Promises Remembered

RobinLady

Story Summary:
Sirius is ten years out of his time. Remus is having disturbing visions. James is struggling to hold the world together. Peter is trying to learn how to live without lies. In the sequel to "Promises Unbroken," the Wizarding World remains on the edge of disaster, and Voldemort seeks final victory.

Chapter 37

Chapter Summary:
Sirius is ten years out of his time. Remus is having disturbing visions. James is struggling to hold the world together. Peter is trying to learn how to live without lies. Sequel to Promises Unbroken--the Wizarding World is on the edge of disaster, and darkness is on the rise. AU.
Posted:
12/13/2004
Hits:
1,260

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Thirty-Seven: (Heroes) And Ordinary Men

"You know..." Bellatrix purred. "The nice thing about immortality is that it gives you all the time in the world to play."

Flamel coughed up blood, but the fool had the sense not to reply. In response, the black-haired Death Eater crouched next to his head and brushed the blood out of his eyes. She smiled gently, insofar as much as a monster could smile gently.

"Of course, in your case 'time' is negotiable, isn't it? How long does your elixir last, Nicholas dear?"

Pain-filled eyes blazed. "Not long enough for your purposes."

"Oh, what courage!" Bellatrix laughed, leaping up from her crouch like a little child offered ice cream and cake. Merrily, she spun around to face her companion. "What do you think, Martha? Do you think he's bluffing?"

Blackwood shrugged, sharing little of her colleague's headache-inducing enthusiasm. "I think there are ways to find out," she replied with a cool smile.

"Oh, yes." The senior Death Eater patted Flamel's cheek. "Did you know, Nicholas darling, that Martha here was almost barred from practicing magical medicine because she developed several...interesting truth potions? It seems that while the Ministry was searching for an alternative to Veritaserum, they were unwilling to accept certain...side affects."

She giggled again, but Martha stepped forward before Bellatrix could continue. While she could not fault the other witch's ability to force information out of resisting prisoners, Bellatrix's methods were incredibly annoying. If I have to listen to her insane giggle one more time...

"The Dark Lord," Martha put in, "is not nearly so discriminating."

Bellatrix snickered, and the sound was no less infuriating than her giggle. Martha was ready to hex her, and just wished that she'd go away, but Flamel's pain-racked comment startled them both.

"No surprise, that," he wheezed.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix retorted, and the old man screamed. Martha rolled her eyes at her comrade's blatant lack of creativity. Really. You would think someone as bright as Bellatrix would have done research into the Wizarding World's older torture methods, and know that there are much better things to use... She sighed, shrugging the thoughts away. Her time locked up in here must have really addled her brain.

Only a few seconds passed before Flamel sunk into unconsciousness, and the newer Death Eater held back a laugh when Bellatrix made a strangled noise of exasperation. Serves you right! she thought.

"Perhaps I ought to administer a Longevity Drought," she said diplomatically.

"Definitely." Bellatrix sneered. "Apparently, immortality hasn't improved his stamina one bit."

"Age will do that," Martha reminded her. "And he is over six centuries old."

"Just get to work," the other snapped. "And don't take as long with him as you did with the Jordan brat."

Martha bit back the reply that comment so richly deserved; baiting Bella Lestrange was not a good way to succeed amongst the Dark Lord's followers, especially with how much their Lord seemed to favor the witch. "I do not recall you arguing with my results."

"Not yet I haven't."

With that, Bellatrix spun on her heel and exited the Interrogation Chamber, slamming the door shut behind her. Martha did not bother to watch--she could hear the sharp crack of the door shutting without having to witness a mobile temper tantrum. Instead, the healer-turned-Death Eater strolled over to the rack of potions ingredients against the far wall. The nice thing about having transferred Flamel to Azkaban from the Riddle House was the permanence of the surroundings; Aurors certainly weren't dropping in to 'spy' on them here! Of course, she wasn't nearly as taken with the prison's atmosphere as the Riddle House, but Martha supposed that her fate could have been a lot worse. While she'd never liked Dementors, she strongly suspected that the Aurors would have had even nastier plans for her if she hadn't been warned by one of her colleagues that James Potter's Mudblood wife was looking for her.

Thankfully, there were enough people with sense left in the world to figure out which side was going to win.

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

"I've been thinking," Auriga Sinistra bit her lip and glanced at Lily across the table. Unexpectedly, Hogwarts' Astronomy Professor had asked Lily to meet her at the Three Broomsticks for lunch, and the head of the Unicorn Group had rushed to get there on time. Auriga was not the impulsive type, and if she'd wanted a meeting, it was important.

"About Nicholas?" Lily prompted gently, and Auriga nodded. "So have I."

"I gave a test to my second years yesterday," the other replied somewhat distracted, then blinked. "Sorry. But it gave me time to think... I know we can't breach Azkaban. It's been tried so many times, and..." She trailed off. "Well, you know what I mean."

"Yeah."

Auriga bit her lip again before continuing, "Anyway, it occurred to me that we could try Reverse-Apparation."

"It's never worked on a human before," Lily replied immediately.

"We've never tried it on a human before," her friend corrected her. "And I'm sure that Perenelle has something with enough of Nicholas' 'signature' on it for us to use."

Lily let out a deep breath, thinking fast. "You're probably right that we can't get into Azkaban," she said slowly. "At least not without help..."

"But we've only got two weeks."

"I know." Lily closed her eyes for a moment, trying to look at the problem in a dispassionate manner but failing. It was always so much harder to do so when the prisoner in question was a friend. She swallowed. Especially when that friend is dependant upon the Elixir to live and will die without it after two weeks. The next words rose unbidden, and she hated herself for what had to be said. "We might have even less time if he..."

"Breaks," Auriga finished. "I know. V-Voldemort has always wanted immortality, and Nicholas knows the key. Even Perenelle doesn't know how to recreate the Stone, but Nicholas could. We both know that he never forgets anything, and if they can force him to show them how...it's all over."

Lily nodded shakily. "We need to get Perenelle in on this."

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

"I can't believe you did not tell me," her mother managed with infinite dignity. Tonks knew that her mother was holding onto her temper by a thread, but it was impossible to tell. She's always been able to do that, the young Auror thought with exasperation. And she's always been able to make it look like I'm the one who's wrong!

"I did tell you, Mum," she replied as levelly as she could--which was a good deal more levelly than she would have sounded before Auror training. "I wrote you a letter."

"In August!" Andromeda exploded. "Two months after you started training!"

Tonks swallowed and looked to her father for help, but he just shook his head. Thanks, Dad, she thought irritably. Is this another one of those 'life lessons' I'm supposed to be learning? Meanwhile, her mother continued, having hit full stride and fury.

"And you told your father, yet you did not trust me far enough to do so," she snarled, clearly reining her temper in but becoming no less angry. "Instead, you lied to me and claimed you were working at Gringotts."

"Well, Mum, I really didn't lie..." Tonks started, then trailed off. Pointing out that she hadn't told an actual lie (she simply hadn't told her mother that she had changed jobs) wasn't a good idea at all. She sighed. "I didn't want you to stop me."

"Do you think I would have?" her mother demanded sharply.

"Yes!" She finally exploded. "You would have, and don't you dare tell me you wouldn't!" Tonks was on her feet, and she knew she shouldn't be, but it was hard to care. "You would have told me that you knew better than I did, no matter what I knew was right, and that I had too much to worry about and shouldn't make our family a target!"

"And now you have," Andromeda snarled. "I hope you're proud of yourself."

"Droma!" her father yelled, shocked, but Tonks rode right over him.

"We already were a target, Mum! How could we not be?" she retorted. "I remember Auntie Bella swearing that she'd kill Dad when I was three years old, and Aunt Narcissa saying that I wasn't worthy because I'm not pureblooded! D'you think they'll ignore us forever?"

"I--"

She never gave her mother the chance to answer. "And even if they do, do we deserve to be ignored? Should we hide just because we can, or should we try to make all the difference possible?"

Abruptly, Tonks bit her tongue, suddenly aware that her mother, father, and little brother were staring at her like they'd never seen her before. Poor Pat, she thought to herself. He really shouldn't have to be here for this. And poor Dad. He takes a Saturday afternoon off of work to see me, and I spend all the time screaming at Mum. But she wasn't really sorry. She wasn't sorry at all.

"You sound remarkably like Sirius," her mother said softly. "Like he always has."

"Maybe he's right," Tonks replied, trying to sound as reasonable as she could.

"Maybe. I know your father thinks so." Andromeda cast a sideways look at her husband, then suddenly reached out and put a hand on Tonks' shoulder. "Nymphadora, we have tried to raise you to be independent and think for yourself...and to know the difference between right and wrong. I suppose that I should not argue when you display those traits."

It was hard to smile instead of grimacing when her mother used that name, but she managed. "Thanks, Mum."

Andromeda sighed. "I can't say I agree with your methods. There are other ways, less obvious ways, to fight back, to 'make a difference.' But...I suppose that if this is what you want to do, we--I--ought to support you. Instead of yelling at you."

"I really shouldn't have yelled back, either," Tonks admitted sheepishly, then grinned, glancing at her younger brother. "Don't get any ideas, Pat. Mum'll eat you alive."

They all laughed together, and within seconds, the moment had passed. The Tonks' had always been such a close family, especially since they'd been so isolated from the rest of their world, and it had hurt to know how angry her mother was. I guess Bill was right, Tonks thought. Coming home is good for the soul.

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

"I don't need a bodyguard!" Peter snapped, and James tried hard not to laugh. The two had gotten together to discuss last minute preparations for Peter's final trip to France, but James had (typically) thrown a wrench into the works.

"Yes, and that Death Eater lying in the gutter is dead because he wanted to give you a cookie!" Hestia Jones snarled back before James could answer. For a moment, he was tempted to intervene, but then he decided not to. The fiery Auror had been lucky to run into Peter when they'd both been on their way in, and had saved his life in result. At least that's a good beginning, he thought behind a twisted attempt not to grin.

"I--" Poor Peter was overmatched.

"You're a target, Pettigrew! Get that through your thick head!" Hestia overrode him.

"You didn't have to kill him." Peter frowned sullenly.

"I know that. But I wasn't trained to take chances." To her right, Clearwater nodded, and James wondered what kind of dangerous combination those two would turn out to be. Today, it had been Hestia who'd killed the single assassin who had been on Peter's tail, but tomorrow...?

The bad news was that neither of them seemed to have noticed the significance of this attempt. James cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt, but..." He forced a slight smile. "You know, Peter, that she's probably right."

"I don't need a bodyguard," his friend repeated stubbornly, making James' eyebrows rise slightly. Years before, the frightened boy Peter had been would have jumped at the chance to be protected...but he had changed. He'd grown, and the Gryffindor courage that his friends had always known was within him was now there for all the world to see.

"I disagree. We've always known that it's only going to be a matter of time before Voldemort came after you again--you've betrayed him and lived, and he can't tolerate that," he replied bluntly, looking his friend in the eyes. "The last thing we need is for him to target you when you're in France, Wormtail. Here, you've got us to turn to, but there..."

Peter's shoulders slumped slightly. "I know. But I don't like having to be protected."

James snickered. "I think that Sirius and I have rubbed off on you, mate!"

"Yeah, I guess you have," Peter smiled lopsidedly, then glanced at Jones. "Are you always like this?" he demanded.

James sputtered out a laugh as Hestia's eyes grew to the size of ultra-large cauldrons.

"What?" she yelped.

"Always so blunt and obnoxious," Peter replied easily.

Clearwater looked ready to die. "Now, wait a minute--"

Hestia burst out laughing. "Oh, don't bother," she told her protégée, then glanced at Peter narrowly. "You know, Pettigrew, maybe you've got more courage than I thought."

"I'll need it to deal with you," Peter shot back.

James howled with laughter.

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

The letter had only said "I need your help," so he had gone. Out of morbid curiosity if nothing else. The fact that any senior member of the Fourteen would request assistance from anyone, even one of their fellows, in such a bald and boldfaced manner was bound to get his attention, even if he did hate the wizard in question.

That was how he'd found himself standing in a deserted clearing, just ten feet away from a crater he would rather pretend did not exist. Of all the warped senses of decency in this world, I do believe his is the worst, Snape thought bitterly. Does he have no senses at all? Of course, he had known the answer to that question since he was eleven years old. Sirius Black did not have any sense. Severus knew that as naturally as he knew how to breathe.

He should just go home. Well, to Hogwarts, but Hogwarts was home. There was a gigantic stack of papers on his desk waiting to be graded, and he'd be up all night with them if this little meeting did not end promptly. Or if the idiot he was meant to meet ever even showed up, that was--he ground his teeth in frustration. Why did I even bother? He probably thinks this is just some cosmic prank or another. Bastard.

Still, even Black's pride ought to prevent him from trying this kind of prank. I need your help, the letter had started. There'd been nothing else other than the meeting place, right next to the ruins of the old Country House. Was there meant to be a message in that? Black had never been known for his subtlety, but he'd never been stupid. If this was meant to be a message, it was a damn clumsy one, but the point was made. And the place was quiet.

Damn you, Black. Won't you hurry up?

Severus resisted the urge to growl and settled in for a long wait. Had he been feeling particularly honest (a rare trait for him to exhibit outside his own mind), he could have admitted that this wasn't entirely Black's fault. He shouldn't have bothered showing up early--Black was on his side, for crying out loud! Instinctive paranoia had insisted that this had to be a trap, but the location of the Country House was only known to the members of the Inner Circle...and to Voldemort. He grimaced. Was there a message here?

"Bastard," he whispered out loud, more at the universe than at Sirius Black, but neither answered.

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

Two days of preparation later, the Unicorn Group was finally ready to proceed. Every moment had grated upon them, and they'd hurried in every way they could, but some things simply couldn't be rushed, and they had to do this at night. Any other time, someone was bound to be watching Nicholas, and if the Reverse Apparation process started before a Death Eater's eyes, one of them might have the wit and the reflexes to stop it. It was possible, after all. In fact, doing so was rather easy, which was the major drawback to the spell.

But Nicholas had been in Azkaban for four days now, and that was four days too long. Every minute of each was engraved into Perenelle's face, too, even though she was desperately trying to lock the pain and worry away. That's the problem with friends, Lily thought distractedly. We always see what you try to hide.

She took a deep breath. "Is everyone ready?"

Shaky and/or emphatic nods greeted her words, but each expression was equally grim. Dark circles ringed eyes, but the pain and regret on every face did not change the necessity of what had to be done. Nor did it make them less ready--the Unicorn Group might have been intended for research purposes, but its members were multi-talented witches and wizards. If anyone could pull this off, squeaking through Azkaban's defenses to do it, they could.

And that's the real beauty of the spell, Lily thought, trying to distract herself while Perenelle made the final preparations. Anti-Apparation wards do not matter, so long as the person being Reverse-Apparated has an emotional or physical connection to the caster. In fact, the Unicorn Group's creation was almost more of a relocation spell than an Apparation spell; it used more concepts from relocation than anything else, which was why any sane witch or wizard would not even think about using it on a human being. But it had worked with Auriga across London and Perenelle doing the Apparating.

Lily only prayed that their luck held.

"I am ready." Perenelle spoke quietly, but her voice was tight. Lily reached out to squeeze the older woman's arm momentarily, then let go. It was time to get to work.

As one, the Unicorn Group lifted their wands, concentrating on Perenelle Flamel and beyond. Almost any spell could be amplified by additional power if enough people were willing to work together, and the Unicorn Group was not about to take chances with Nicholas' life. They would probably have only one chance at this--if they failed, alarms across Azkaban were likely to be tripped, and Voldemort would certainly figure out a way to block their efforts. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was every bit as brilliant as he was evil.

Lily let out one last breath. "On three?" she asked Perenelle. But the older woman shook her head.

"No...now."

As one, they spoke the simple words: "Remeum Apparate."

Lily let her eyes slide shut, feeling the power radiate from their small group. For several moments, nothing happened--she could only sense the spell swirling around them, reaching out, diving into the distance... And then there was nothing. She held her breath, waiting and hoping, but not daring to look. Then she felt a sharp tug and heard Perenelle gasp--

"It's working!" Jason Montague shouted.

Ten seconds. She felt the link form up, could almost feel Nicholas from so far away, could feel his pain and his determination not to break. Yet there was hopelessness in that determination--until he felt the connection, too, and strength poured into the link. Ten seconds. All they needed was ten seconds more. Reverse-Apparation was a slower process than Apparation itself, but ten seconds wasn't really all that much time when compared to the grand scheme of the universe. Let no one be there, Lily thought desperately. Let them not see. Let them not realize. She was still holding her breath.

Another tug.

And then nothing.

The link snapped.

There was a long moment of silence before Ted swore. Lily looked up as he shrugged apologetically, but her attention was stolen by the tears on Perenelle's face. Molly, too, had seen the same thing.

"Let's try again," Molly said firmly, and the others nodded. There wasn't really much of a chance of it working, but they had to try.

The preparations went far quicker this time; they had to, else whomever or whatever had stopped them might catch on. Within seconds, they were ready, and were lifting their wands once more. Perenelle's voice was shaky as she counted down: "One..."

Lily struggled not to hold her breath and to simply concentrate on the moment. On reaching out and forming the required link. This has to work, she thought desperately. She didn't want to think about what would happen if it did not.

"Two..."

One by one, they closed their eyes. Lily, however, kept her eyes locked on Perenelle's face, letting the older woman's grief and pain fuel her magic. At this point, any type of strength was useful.

Something flirted on the edge of her consciousness.

"Thr--"

"Whatever you're doing, stop!"

The voice came from the fire and made them all jump--Lily hadn't even realized that the fire was actively on the Floo Network today. Someone else must have connected it before I got here, she thought with confusion, blinking as she tried to register the face floating in the fire. Molly and Ted had both dropped their wands in surprise, and Jason had jumped to his feet without meaning to. Perenelle had gone strangely pale, and Auriga looked ready to curse someone. That was Sirius' head in the fire.

"Sirius?" Lily and Ted managed at the same time. Yet their minds were still working slowly, still transitioning from reaching outwards to thinking inwards, and--

Something cold and dark rushed out to meet them.

"Stop!"

The link cracked and broke as control overrode shock and everyone withdrew. Together, the Unicorn Group stared at Sirius. "What's wrong with you?" Molly demanded.

"Whatever you were doing, Voldemort knows it," he replied without even bothering to take offense at her angry tone.

"How do you know that?" Jason asked suspiciously.

Suddenly, Sirius' eyes were on Lily. "Ask Lily. She felt it."

"I did," she replied slowly, nodding. "There was something dark..."

"But how did you feel it?" Molly picked up when she trailed off. "And where are you?"

"I can't tell you that," Sirius responded immediately. "And I felt it through the Mark."

Instantly, Lily knew that wasn't true. Nor was it exactly a lie, but Sirius wasn't saying something. She opened her mouth to object, but he got in first.

"I have to go. Someone's waiting on me." He blinked, then looked Lily in the eyes, seemingly pleading with her not to ask. "But be careful. Please."

And then he was gone.

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

"You're late," the acid voice said as he Apparated onto the field where the Country House had once stood. Purposefully, Sirius avoided looking at the crater as he forced a sweet smile in Snape's direction.

"I didn't know you cared," he responded in kind.

"Don't waste your energy on me, Black," the other snapped back. "You might fool your friends, but I can see the darkness within you."

Years ago, he would have argued with the remark, but Sirius knew that he'd changed. He'd also grown up enough to realize that childhood rivalries had no place in the real world, no matter how much hatred lay between them. "Perceptive," he observed.

"I do try."

A moment ticked by in silence while they contemplated one another. Snape seemed to be waiting for Sirius to explain his odd letter, while Sirius was still trying to figure out how. It grated at him to ask Snape for help, especially with this, but he knew that it was the only way. Once you do this, there is no going back, a voice in his head warned him, but Sirius pushed it away. He was cold inside, and half-terrified of what was to come, but the choice had been made.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, whipping his robes out behind him and throwing hair across his face. By the time he scraped it out of his eyes, Sirius realized that there was something else in there with it--ashes from the now gone Country House. He could feel the black smudge they left across his cheek, and glanced at Snape to see if they'd done the same to him. The Potions Master was busy wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe.

"Why meet here?" Snape demanded. It probably wasn't the question he had intended to ask, but it did serve as an opening. Sirius took a deep breath.

"It's private," he replied. "And quiet."

Snape frowned, his black eyes flashing. "He already knows of this place."

"I know he does. And if he learns what I am doing through you...so be it." Sirius shrugged, then nodded slightly in response to the puzzled look on Snape's face. "He cannot stop me, and he will know soon enough through the link between us."

"Link?" Snape echoed warily.

Silently, Sirius lifted his left arm, letting the long sleeve of his robes fall away to reveal the Mark. A certain tightness entered the Death Eater's features, but recognition flared in Snape's eyes. Sirius knew what he saw. Unlike Snape's Dark Mark, Sirius' still glowed red and angry underneath the black outline, as if there were two layers: one burned in and one carved. The difference was subtle; one who did not bear the Mark would probably never notice. But Snape did.

The Death Eater nodded once. "You asked for my assistance. What would you have me do?"

There was something atypical in his voice, something almost respectful. The sarcasm and venom had faded, perhaps because Snape had turned to the business at hand...but perhaps not. There was an acceptance in the dark eyes Sirius had never seen before, an acknowledgement of pain, of purpose, and of choice. They would always hate one another, but there was an off chance that each might understand the other--someday.

"I need you to brew the Conmalesco Potion for me," Sirius replied, letting his left arm fall. Slowly, he clasped his hands, watching his old enemy's face.

Snape's eyes grew wide, his voice razor-sharp. "What?"

"I know you've brewed it before."

"How?" Snape demanded, his usual coolness gone as a different edge entered his voice. "How do you know?"

"It was the first potion you brewed for Voldemort. Your first test," Sirius responded softly.

"How do you know this?" Snape snarled, and for a moment, Sirius thought he saw fear flicker in the implacable eyes.

"Come with me and I shall show you."

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

"Are you certain, Perenelle?" Lily asked softly. "There is still time. We could..."

Gray hair swished from side to side as the ancient witch shook her head, and Lily saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "No," she said softly. "This is the only way."

Lily squeezed her hand, but she knew that the gesture was pointless. Perenelle hadn't just chosen her own death; she would force death upon her husband as well. And while six hundred years might seem to have been a long and full life, Lily knew that human nature would always cause people to crave just a little while longer. Still, Perenelle's voice was even when she continued:

"Long ago, Nicholas and I made a promise. Centuries before Voldemort, or Grindelwald, or any of the terrors you remember, we knew that it might come to this." She took a deep breath, and looked directly into Lily's eyes. "And we promised one another that if one of us were to be caught, with no chance of rescue, this is what we would do."

"You are far braver than I," Lily whispered.

"Far from it, child." Perenelle managed to smile, and it was not very bitter. "I am simply older. I can bear the pain...but like you, I cannot bear the cost."

Lily swallowed, refusing the let the image of an immortal Voldemort ruin the significance of the sacrifice the Flamels were making. "How much Elixir do you have?"

"None that I will drink." Lily stared, and Perenelle smiled again. "Nicholas and I...we shall fade together. We have always known that there is not another way."

"Perenelle..."

"No." The old woman squeezed her hands. "The decision is made, and now we must carry it out. Have you brought the Stone?"

She nodded mutely, removing the Philosopher's Stone from her pocket. This was the only of its kind, Lily knew; in thousands of years of effort, humanity had only produced one Philosopher's Stone. And now there would be none.

They sat in the ruined basement of Stone Grove, the same site where the stone she held had been dreamed of and developed. Where it would now be destroyed.

Hot oil burbled slightly as it boiled in a nearby cauldron. Lily had been shocked to learn that such a common substance could destroy the immortal Philosopher's Stone; the required oil did not have any magical properties at all. Yet boiling oil was the only substance capable of destroying the Stone, and Lily was seconds away from throwing it in. She glanced at Perenelle, holding the Stone out in a shaky hand.

"Would you like to...?"

Perenelle pushed Lily's hand away, shaking her head. "Dumbledore trusted you," she said quietly. "As do I...especially with something I would hate to do so much."

And I don't? Lily bit her lip, forcing tears back. The bitter words wanted to rise; she wanted to demand why she had to condemn two of her friends to death, but Lily felt she had no right to say them. If Perenelle can face this, so must I.

"Are you ready?" she whispered, watching the clock.

"I am."

At midnight on 28 September 1992, Lily dropped the Philosopher's Stone into boiling oil. By 12:01 on September 29th, it was gone.

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

Other decisions were made, and other fates decided. She was the only one permitted to visit Casa Serpente uninvited, but she would rarely presume to do so. Bella preferred it that way. Thus, the ancient home of Slytherin maintained its lure.

They walked together in the darkness, guided on their way by bright and ancient torches which lined the stone path. There was little moonlight as the new moon slowly grew into itself, but the darkness had always been appropriate. They were creatures of it, after all: creatures of death and darkness.

He was silent as they walked in the towering shadow of his ancestor's statute, but he usually was. Few appreciated the silence of their Lord, recognized the strength which lay behind it, but Bella did. She was simply honored to walk by his side, to share in his greatness. The others did not understand. They wanted to talk, to prattle, to be recognized. They thought he would pay more attention if they annoyed him to death. To death. Bella suppressed a giggle. It had happened before, and at the rate some of her miserable colleagues were moving, it would happen again.

"Tell me, Bella, what is so different about Hogwarts." His soft voice startled her, and she looked up at him attentively. Still they walked.

"I--" She hated not knowing answers, especially when he asked. "I do not know, My Lord," she admitted.

"Of course you do not," he replied dismissively. "No one does." Eloquently, he glanced up at the towering statue of Salazar Slytherin before continuing darkly. "Except one."

Bella hissed. She knew who he meant--Lupin. One of her cousin's friends, one of the ones who made him hold on and hold out for so long. Had she not despised the half-breed already, she would have hated him for that, for providing her dear cousin with a reason to fight back. The three of them had done that, she knew, and for that they would have to die.

One by one and piece by piece, if need be, but they would die.

Her Lord was still moving, and she quickened her pace to catch up with him, having fallen a step behind when concentrating on darker thoughts. His steps were graceful and long, but unhurried all the same. Here at Casa Serpente, he was always at peace, always in control. As he should be, she thought approvingly. As he always is. Still, she frowned slightly. Unlike lower Death Eaters, she was not expected to agree without thought.

"Are you sure that he knows, My Lord?" Bella asked thoughtfully. "Dumbledore did, but...him?" She shrugged.

"Oh, he knows." He laughed. "He knows."

The silence stretched between them, and she wondered what he saw.

"Bring me the werewolf, Bella," he commanded. "I want answers."

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

"This is Avalon."

Somehow, Sirius wasn't surprised that Snape guessed their location within three seconds of arrival. Anything else would have been disappointing. "Yes."

He stepped forward, already feeling the power swirl around him. Sirius had brought Snape to the Secondary Apparation Center because it was furthest from everything on Avalon, situated as it was on the east coast of the island, nearest to the old outbuildings and the Minefield. It was also rather close to the Lab that Sirius had appropriated, but most importantly, it was away from the Main Villa. Sirius trusted and liked Derek Dawlish, and the Longbottoms, but there were some secrets he intended to keep as his own. So, avoiding the current residents of Avalon had become rather high on his list.

Especially Frank. I really don't think he'd take this well.

Inhale. The doors of each Apparation Center didn't take kindly to darkness, and Severus Snape was, despite his best efforts at change, one of the darkest of the dark. Over the last few weeks, Sirius had become much more aware of the giant stone doors, and he'd realized that they didn't take kindly to his Dark Mark--they simply admitted him anyway because he was an Auror. A few hours of thought had brought him to the same conclusion where Adam was concerned; as far as Avalon was concerned, those who had been accepted by the doors would always be accepted. That, of course, had become a problem, but throughout history, not many Aurors had betrayed their fellows. Until Voldemort. Enough of that, Sirius, he told himself firmly. You need to concentrate.

He stretched out his awareness, reaching not only into the doors, but into Avalon itself. The longer Sirius spent on the Aurors' Island, the better he came to know it, and he now understood that Avalon wasn't what everyone thought it was. It was far, far different, and infinitely more powerful that he might have ever guessed.

But it also listened, and the doors slid open to allow them to pass.

"Follow me," he said quietly, turning to Snape. "If you fall back, the doors will crush you."

"Typical," Snape muttered darkly, and Sirius felt the automatic hesitation in his own step. Once, such a remark would have made him stop cold and face Snape, reminding the other not to underestimate Avalon, for the island would know. But now he kept walking, and it was less from a desire to see Snape squished into goo than one to simply get the job done. He did notice, however, that Snape kept close behind him. Irritating though he could be, the man was far from a fool.

They exited SecApp without incident, and Sirius led Snape across the dark fields, skirting close to the abandoned outbuildings (used only for storage now) and keeping clear of the Minefield. Frank and Alice had recently begun reconfiguring the field for the next class of Aurors, and Sirius had no desire to find out whatever nasty surprises they were planning first hand. A very faint light glowed in the distance, more for Snape's benefit than anything else, and it grew larger as they approached Lab Six. Neither spoke until the door closed behind Snape.

"Explain to me, Black, why you have brought me to the Aurors' last haven in order to convince me to brew deadly, not to mention illegal, potions."

"Because you're the only one who can," Sirius responded evenly.

"You mean because I am the only one who has," the other retorted bitterly, and there was anger in his eyes. Demons, too, but Sirius knew all about them.

"Yes. That, too."

"How do you know?" Snape demanded.

"Because of this." Reaching inside his robes, Sirius held the leather-bound book up in his right hand. Ever since Adam had wandered in on his work just over two weeks ago, Sirius had been careful to carry the journal with him wherever he went. He did not know what the journal would do to someone without the Mark if they attempted to open it, but Sirius did know that there were too many possible consequences if the book were to fall into the wrong hands. Both for me and for whoever takes it.

"A journal."

Sirius nodded mutely, and watched recognition flash across his companion's face. Snape's eyes widened.

"Where did you get that?"

"I don't think you want to know," Sirius replied quietly. "But you are right in thinking that it belonged to Voldemort."

A long moment of silence passed while Snape stared at him, his eyes still the size of a startled owl's. Rarely did the Potions Master lose such control, but his mouth opened slightly, and then closed again, as he struggled to find words to say. Then horror replaced the surprise, and his face tightened.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

He was the only one in the world who had enough information to put the pieces together, and Sirius knew that there was no use lying to him. Instead, he answered simply: "What has to be done."

"You're insane."

Sirius didn't argue with the flat reply. He only nodded. "Possibly," he admitted, slipping the journal back inside his robes. "Will you help me?"

Snape stared. "Why?"

Sirius just looked at him. There weren't words to explain what he needed, wasn't a way to convince Snape to play along with the rank insanity of the path Sirius had chosen to take. There was simply purpose, necessity, and years of anger and pain welled up behind the walls built around both men's pasts. Both had made mistakes in their life, and Sirius was about to make another. The only question was: would Snape help him? Those obsidian eyes were unreadable, save for the shock still lurking in their depths. Does his past horrify him so, or is it my future?

"The Conmalesco," Snape finally replied, his voice not quite devoid of emotion. "You do realize that the root of "mal" replaces the inner syllable of convalesco expressly to reference the consequences of the potion? Moreover, creating the potion requires a potent act of Dark Magic--"

"I know." He had to cut the lecture off. Sirius' research had told him enough about the potion to know the dangers, and he knew what it would do. Probably better than Snape did, actually, even if Snape had seen the transformation happen over time.

The other man sighed irritably. "I suppose that if you had to pick one of the potions, I ought to be relieved that you chose the least dangerous."

"I need all three of them, Severus." Again, he spoke quietly, and Snape's first name had escaped before he realized that he'd spoken. Oddly, it felt natural in the sentence, perhaps because he was asking for help instead of demanding it.

Snape went pale. "Which three?"

Here's your last chance to back down, Sirius. A chill raced down his spine, and Sirius had to force back the urge to shiver. But there was no turning back. Not anymore. He had come too far. "The originals."

"You're--"

"Yes."

There was no doubt in Sirius' mind that Snape wasn't about to call him insane again. No, the man knew too much.

"You feel that you have to do this." Snape's voice was empty now. "You are certain that there is no other way."

Sirius nodded slowly. "There is no one else who can."

"Then I will brew the potions," the Death Eater replied. "And I will pray that you do not grow into the monster he has become."


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