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 42

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. (Now complete!)
Posted:
01/02/2005
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1,120

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Forty-Two: To Strive, To Seek, To Find

October 9, 1992. A small paragraph in the bottom right hand corner of the last page of Transfiguration Today told the heartbreaking story of murdered dreams, last chances, and unspeakable courage. Few who read the simple words understood the cost...but those who mattered, those who listened and fought, remembered. And they mourned.

Nicholas Flamel (1326-1992), the immortal alchemist and famous creator of the only known

Philosopher's Stone, perished in Azkaban yesterday. His wife, Perenelle (1323-1992) died

in the garden of Stone Grove, the ancestral Flamel residence, a few minutes later. Unknown

members of the Order of the Phoenix were with Perenelle in her last moments.

Lily was among them, of course, and would never forget the old woman's courage as she sought her own end. With the last of the Elixir safely locked away inside Grimmauld Place, Perenelle had faced her death with a smile, and had squeezed Lily's hand at the last moment, telling her that she already knew Nicholas was gone. Lily had wept but a little--perhaps it was easier to bear loss when one knew it was coming, or maybe she'd just seen too much death. Either way, Perenelle had passed away in peace, and suddenly it was time to move on.

She had looked up at the sky the next day, wishing she could enjoy the beauty of the sun setting overhead. Perenelle had asked that her ashes be released on this day, the birthday that she would always be one day away from reaching. Lily had done so on a beautiful evening, and had stood alone afterwards, simply looking up. However, even Lily had lost her appreciation for such beauty over the years; though she'd once enjoyed drawing such scenes and watching them come to life under her pencil's tip, she'd lost that talent somewhere during the war years. It hadn't been a conscious loss, really; Lily had simply stopped drawing and had never missed it.

But she missed it now. Desperately. And she knew that Perenelle and Nicholas would have loved to share that sunset, would have loved to chuckle at the clouds' funny shapes as the colors merged in the sky. Somehow, though, the thought made her smile instead of crying. Maybe it was just time.

"Goodbye," she whispered to the clouds, knowing that the Flamels would hear her. Though neither would come back as ghosts, she knew they were there. Somewhere.

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

The witch had very short curly hair and a rather round and flabby face; in addition to that, she wasn't precisely thin, and looked very undignified when she was all but bouncing in a mixture of fear and excitement. The worse thing, however, was her irritating and high pitched voice.

"I could, of course, have taken it to the Minister of Magic," she simpered, sliding closer to him while he tried hard not to shiver in revulsion--but not too hard. "But I did not think it appropriate, given the circumstances."

"The circumstances," he repeated flatly, wishing that she didn't reek of that awful perfume.

"Of course," Umbridge replied promptly, not seeming to hear the ill-concealed sarcasm in his voice. Then her chubby fingers reached out for the parchment she'd handed him moments before.

"I think I will keep this," Snape told her pointedly, but she kept trying to grab the parchment away.

"Hem, hem." She glared at him, but he met the toadish woman's gaze with a sharp look of his own. Still, the idiot pressed on. "Don't you think it better if I--"

"If you present this prophecy to the Dark Lord?" Snape snorted. "No, I do not think it better. In fact, I think doing so would probably cause your death--unless that is what you wish, of course?"

"Of course it isn't!" she snapped, finally losing her cool. He sneered in response, but she ignored it. "I hardly think that He-Who--the Dark Lord--would slay a mere witch for bringing him something of such...value."

Snape stopped resisting the urge to roll his eyes. It simply wasn't worth the effort. "Are you willing to bet your life on that?" he drawled.

Why can't she have gone to Lucius instead of me? he thought suddenly. He'd have just killed her, and done the Wizarding world a well-needed service. Whereas I don't want to kill her, even if she is a toad. He did resist the urge to snap at her. Knowing Umbridge, she'd just fight back and prolong the painful discussion.

"Perhaps..." she hesitated. "Perhaps it would be best for you to bring the prophecy to him."

"Yes. Perhaps it would," he replied, lacing his voice with sarcasm just to see if she'd notice. Umbridge didn't.

She continued in a little girlish voice, sounding hopeful. "But you will tell him?" she asked. "You will tell the Dark Lord who found the prophecy?"

"I believe you meant to say who stole the prophecy," Snape corrected her coldly.

"I would never--" Her bug like eyes grew wide.

"Of course you wouldn't." The Death Eater snorted. "I recognize the handwriting in this corner, Dolores. It is Dumbledore's, which means you liberated this prophecy from his papers at the Ministry. Do you deny it?"

"Do you deny that this prophecy will be invaluable to your master?" she shot back, showing spine.

Snape laughed at her. "Begone, witch, before I kill you and take the credit for myself."

"You would not dare!"

"Don't tempt me." The accompanying sneer made her scamper away, but Snape was not watching her. Instead, his eyes were locked on the words written carefully on the top right hand corner of the old paper, written in handwriting he knew well.

Found amongst the belongings of the late Cassandra S. Trelawney after her death in 1699. Origin unknown, but believed to be genuine by Sybill P. Trelawney upon discovery in 1983. Written in an unknown hand.

He stared at those comments long after Umbridge was gone, standing alone in the empty Muggle park she'd foolishly chosen to meet in. Why he had come, Snape had no idea, but he was glad to have done so now--at the very least because it let the Order understand Umbridge just a little bit better. Lying toad, he thought to himself, but even Snape hardly paid attention to those words. Dumbledore's comments were much more interesting--why write them in the first place? It wasn't like Dumbledore to make notes upon his own belongings...unless he knew that they'd be found. Or meant for them to be.

Snape scowled. Yet another mystery had been caused by Dumbledore; even after his death, the old man could still influence their world. He smiled for a moment, remembering, but the expression faded quickly enough. Too much had happened, and this was too important.

Sighing, he read the words again. He did not have much time before he was due on Azkaban, and hardly any more than that before he was expected elsewhere. Still, there was more present on that parchment than met the eye, even when he read it for a fifth time. This prophecy couldn't possibly mean what he thought it did...could it?

When darkness darkens innocent eyes

And when sick hearts see no way to survive

Alone--forgotten--from the shadows comes one

One chosen by fate, betrayed by choice

Yet still must stand--

Must stand--

Come the dark end, the forgotten will recall:

Yet a child but chosen by fate

His actions--in shadow--shielded from the dark

While time winds down until his moment

Until he--not the other--shall show his mark

And before the darkness conquers the dawn

He who was pushed aside shall save them all.

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

"What's that?" Fred whispered from Harry's left, stopping so suddenly that George almost fell out from underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

"Will you stop doing that?" his twin demanded.

"Sorry," Fred started. "I wasn't--"

"Thinking, I know. It happens to the best of us."

"Ooomph!" an invisible force slammed into all three Misfits' backs, sending the impromptu trio tumbling forward. Ron swore.

"I thought we told you not to stop!" the youngest Weasley brother hissed.

The disadvantage of having two Invisibility Cloaks, as the Misfits were quickly learning, was that one group had no way of seeing the other. That night alone, the two groups had run into each other at least four times, not counting this one, and everyone was getting irritable. And it's making pranks harder! Harry thought with exasperation. Here's hoping that Snape's nowhere nearby...

"Ron, don't be so loud!" Hermione added. "Someone's going to hear you!"

"As if they won't hear you," Ron retorted sourly, making Fred and George snicker. "Besides, I don't hear you telling Fred and George to shut--"

"Shh!" Ginny cut them off. "There's something in the trees."

"How d'you know?" George demanded, and Harry could see him squinting in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"I'm wearing the glasses, troll brain," she shot back.

"Hey!"

"Will you be quiet!" Hermione snapped. Both twins turned to face her, even though they knew fully well that they couldn't see Hermione, no matter how hard they tried.

"Well, no, really, I don't think we will," Fred replied archly.

"Perhaps tomorrow," George added.

"Or if you ask nicely."

"Very nicely."

Both grinned and spoke together. "But you have to say please."

Harry tried to choke back laughter, but met with no success. It didn't help that the twins were also snickering, and that Ron was very obviously laughing out loud. Of course, they should have been trying to be quiet; all of the Misfits knew that being out on the grounds after lights out was bound to get them detention if they were caught. However, Harry figured that if a professor was going to spot them, it would have happened already, especially with Ron using words that would have made Mrs. Weasley screech loud enough to break glass.

"Ow!" Fred suddenly yelped. "What was that for?" he demanded, swinging around to glare at George and Harry, who only stared back in confusion. "And who was that?"

"Who was what?" Ron echoed.

"Someone kicked me!"

"Oh. Sorry," Hermione said in a very small voice. "I was aiming for Harry."

George snorted. "And here I was thinking that Harry is the one who needs glasses. You'd better get your eyes checked out, Hermes."

"Well, I couldn't see you!" she shot back. "And my name is not Hermes! Hermes was a Greek god, and male, too!" Without warning, Ginny gasped and whispered something, but Hermione's rant rode right over her and no one seemed to notice. "Really, is one name that hard to get right? It's bad enough that everyone mispronounces my name by accident--the two of you have to do it on purpose!"

Harry snickered, then coughed to cover it up. There was no way that he wanted to become Hermione's next victim.

"Oh, no. Dear brother, you've got it wrong," Fred interjected. "Hermes could fly. We all know that Hermione can't."

"Shut up," she muttered. Harry could just imagine her going red, and felt sorry for his friend. He opened his mouth to defend her, but Ginny got in first.

"Yes, do shut up. There's someone in the trees."

"I thought you said it was something," Ron objected.

"Well, I did, but--"

"What is it?" Harry interrupted.

"I don't know. It's a shadow, like a cloak, and not that far away." There was a slight rustling noise. "Right there."

"There?" Ron echoed. "I don't--"

"I see it!" Hermione cut him off. "That is someone, and it's too tall to be a student. The Forbidden Forest is really dangerous. I wonder who might be foolish enough to wander around there in the dark."

"Where?" Fred, George, and Harry all demanded at once, wishing that they could see the direction Ginny was pointing in. The Misfits were just on the edge of the forest, and there were trees in every direction but behind them. No amount of squinting showed Harry where Ginny's mystery person was, and he was about to pull off the cloak when she spoke again.

"There. Right next to the--"

"Have the little kiddies come out to play?" a disembodied voice suddenly asked, sending chills down Harry's spine.

"Oh, no," Hermione breathed.

"Oh, yes," the voice purred. It sounded female, but Harry was sure he'd never heard it before.

Harry gulped, willing his voice not to shake. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Oooh. It's little baby Potter. Didn't your precious godfather tell you about me?" A high-pitched giggle. "We had such fun together!"

"It's a Death Eater," Ron said under his breath, just loud enough for the other Misfits to hear. "It has to be."

"Of course I'm a Death Eater, little Weasley!" she announced. "Just like you're a blood traitor."

All four Weasleys growled angrily, and Harry spoke quickly before they could get their mouths open.

"Look, I don't know who you think you are, but there is one of you and six of us." Suddenly feeling bold, he stepped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, raising his wand to chest height. A long moment passed with him standing alone in the darkness, then Fred swore. Less than a second later, the others stood beside him.

She laughed. "As if I would fear six little children." The shadow--Harry had finally spotted it--shifted amongst the trees. "Do you think you can hurt one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers?"

"Lumos," George suddenly whispered, sending light shining into the trees. Immediately, the shadow vanished, only to appear twenty feet to the right. She shifted left again when George tried to follow her with the light, laughing. Was she Apparating? No one could Apparate on Hogwarts grounds.

"Shall we dance, George Weasley?" she giggled louder. "Shall we dance the beautiful dance of pain and death?"

Harry felt his blood freeze as her shadow moved slightly; light reflected briefly off of a tree and he saw her wand coming up. Hermione started to speak, but a loud voice boomed:

"Hey! What are yeh six doin' out here?"

It was Hagrid. Instinctively, the Misfits spun to face the half-giant, who strode towards them purposefully, followed by a growling Fang. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny whip the glasses off and drop them unobtrusively into her pocket, then put on her most innocent smile. Likewise, both twins stepped forward to block Hagrid's view of the Invisibility Cloaks, now puddled up on the ground like so much shiny water. The Misfits had plenty of practice.

"We were, uh..." Hermione trailed off as Harry suddenly twisted right, realizing that no one was watching the shadow any longer.

"She's gone," he said quickly.

"Who's gone?" Hagrid asked just as Ron replied:

"She can't be gone. She was just there!"

"Lumos!" Six voices snapped at once, illuminating the Forest like the sun. Shadows shifted as the trees blew in the wind, but there was nothing else. No one else.

Ginny squinted through the glasses that had somehow wound up back on her face. "There's nothing," she said heavily. "Nothing at all."

"I told you so," Harry muttered, angry at himself for forgetting to watch. He was pretty sure that he'd guessed who the mysterious woman was, but what would she be doing at Hogwarts?

Fear seized up in his throat, and he swung back to face Hagrid as the gamekeeper spoke.

"Now, the three of yeh need ta tell me what in the world yeh think yer doin' out here at this time o' night," the big man said sternly. "It's dangerous out here."

George started to object, but Harry stomped on his foot.

"You're right, Hagrid," he agreed quickly. "It is dangerous. And there's a Death Eater in the forest."

"Blimey! Now, Harry, don't go saying thin--" Hagrid peered at him closely. "Yer not jokin', are yeh?"

"No." He swallowed. "I think it was Bellatrix Lestrange."

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

Six had arrived, and they were sharing a rowdy dinner with their English counterparts, though Sirius felt little desire to join in the excitement. While the entry of France into the war--and the appearance of Jean d'Orville and five other French Aurors (led by Alice Longbottom, who had Apparated to Paris to bring them)--was certainly an uplifting sign, Sirius felt hard pressed to share the others' optimism. Or even their happiness.

He felt cold and alone, standing in the dark trees and watching the others party through the Main Villa's windows. Their losses were still felt--eight dead Aurors and four in St. Mungo's could not be ignored--but the division was healing. All of their wounded comrades were now out of bed and mobile again, save for those in St. Mungo's, and the Aurors had a right to celebrate. They were no longer alone, and as James had said, hope was not lost so long as they still had friends.

But it was hard to remember that, standing in the darkness, cold and alone.

Sirius shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. It had been a lonely two days as the potions took hold, dark and nightmare filled. For months, Sirius had believed that the memories had faded, but now they were back full force. Because of them, he'd slept very little--perhaps two hours in the last four days--and he was exhausted. And he was still remembering. Remembering, in vivid and perfect clarity, every moment of his life.

The Memory Enhancer, he suddenly realized. The thought had been lurking around in his mind for days, and Sirius finally managed to grasp it. He gulped, then whispered:

"Damn. The bloody thing is retroactive."

Why he felt the need to swear, Sirius did not know. Doing so certainly did not make him feel any better, but the urge was still there. Really, he wanted to scream at the universe in frustration, bellow WHY ME? at the stars, but he knew it would do no good. And displaying anything that even resembled insanity would only make the Aurors trust him even less.

They were treating him more coldly now, sometimes as if he was made of glass. They had agreed to trust him, but Sirius knew that was hard. He was dabbling in the forbidden, choosing a road that no sane man would take. Am I even still sane? he wondered distractedly, and found that he did not much care. Thinking about it took a gigantic effort, but as Sirius searched his soul, he found that it was still his own. So, likewise, was his sanity, but both were growing harder to hold on to.

There was a darkness gnawing at him. It had been there since before he'd taken the Conmalesco, but had grown as he'd taken the three potions. Sirius had known the risks, of course, just as he had known them when he'd performed the same dark spells on himself that Tom Riddle had once used. But somehow, the results were still frightening. The danger that lurked within him would rise sooner or later, and the darkness would attempt to take control. He'd known that all along. Reading the journal had shown Sirius the entire process, from start to finish; through the words on the page, he had seen Tom Riddle lose himself and become Lord Voldemort.

And he could be next. If he did not fight the darkness--or failed in doing so--Sirius knew that he would be next. Yet he had done it anyway, for reasons even Sirius did not fully understand.

"Tomorrow," he had told James three days before, but life had turned it into a lie. The Failed Circle had met that night instead, and he'd hardly had time to say a word to his friends. After Dung's heartbreaking admission, little had been said at all; instead, they'd all gone to work, trying to figure out if Fletcher had betrayed them or not.

The facts were still ambiguous, and though no one had stated opinions in that meeting, they would tonight, two days later. Two days was hardly enough time to decide a man's fate, but it was all they could afford. Will they even give me that much, once they realize what I've been doing?

Sirius shivered again. The longer he waited before confronting his friends, the harder it would be. He had even wanted to, once--he had so desperately wanted to pour his heart out and tell James everything. But that was then. Now he was becoming afraid.

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

Bill toyed with his water goblet, feeling out of place. The seven of them sat quietly in the headmaster's office, speaking little and exchanging fewer glances. Fletcher, seated uneasily on an antique chair, actually looked the most comfortable out of everyone, which Bill found extremely unsettling. That was not caused, however, by any lack of trust in Dung's sincerity. Bill simply couldn't believe the sheer silence in the room.

Lily had discussed the French Aurors with Bill before falling silent, yet all the while she'd cast worried glances her husband's way. She had also been distracted--the usually brilliant witch had repeated herself several times, and had hardly heard a word Bill said. In the end, they'd both trailed off, watching the other five instead of talking. Watching four in particular while trying to pretend they weren't.

Bill remembered the "Marauders" from Hogwarts, remembered the four boys who had been remarkably talented mischief makers--but even more remarkable for the friendship they shared. Even then, he had noticed the bond between them. Their care for each other had been so strong that it was obvious to an eleven-year-old boy who hardly knew any of the four. And he had seen them since, together, driving back a hundred Dementors by depending upon nothing more than the bond between four men. He had admired them then, had even been a little jealous. But he had known what they had was special. That there was, quite possibly, nothing else like it in the world.

Where had it gone?

Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus sat scattered around the room. James was to Lily's right, sharing a couch, with Peter to his right in a large armchair that made the short man look tiny. Remus was to Bill's left (after the empty chair), but a small table separated him from Sirius, who he kept looking at as if he expected the dark-haired Auror to speak. Sirius sat next to Dung Fletcher, an odd choice of companions unless he'd done so on purpose.

Maybe he did, Bill thought to himself. With Sirius, there was no way to tell, especially these days. Bill had remained quiet during that last meeting on Avalon, still feeling weak and dizzy, and hardly able to believe his ears. He had a hard time associating the cool and dark man Sirius had become with the wizard who had stepped into his cell on Azkaban--

"Who are you?" he asked, staring at the Auror who had just walked into his cell. His rescuer.

"Sirius Black," the other replied simply.

"But you're dead!" Bill felt his jaw drop, and he stared at the stranger, trying to figure out if he was dead, hallucinating, or both.

"People keep telling me that." Sirius smiled tightly, but it was a smile all the same.

He did not smile often these days. In fact, Bill had rarely even seen him since that meeting--despite the Aurors' display of trust, Sirius had stayed locked up in Lab Six, doing Merlin only knew what to himself. When he wasn't there, Sirius wandered the island, seemingly looking for something, though Bill could not tell if he was searching for something on Avalon or simply for inner peace. Glancing at him now, Bill did not think Sirius had found either, and he was beginning to wonder if the other man ever would.

"Where is he?" Fletcher suddenly growled, breaking the silence. "I realize he has other obligations, but an hour late is a bit much. Even for Snape."

"I imagine he agrees." Lily laughed nervously.

"Dung's right," Peter said in a brittle voice. "It's not like him to be this late. Do you suppose something might have...happened?"

Bill swallowed, thinking of the professor he'd never liked. It was strange being in the Inner Circle and seeing a different side of Snape--still sarcastic and cold, but less aloof than Bill had ever thought possible. And less cruel. Far less cruel.

"We'll know if he does not show up by morning," Remus replied quietly, glancing again at Sirius. However, the head of the Aurors and the Minister of Magic both remained quiet, and Bill sensed an invisible wall between them that a dragon's fire could not have breached. Suddenly, Remus continued in what was plainly a forcibly calm tone. "We'll wait another twenty minutes. If Severus does not arrive by then, we will meet tomorrow night."

"Can we afford to wait?" Dung whispered suddenly, surprising everyone. "I appreciate everyone's efforts, but..."

"Don't even say it," Lily cut him off firmly. "There is always hope, and we will not abandon you because of something you did not cause."

The former Auror tried again. "I--"

"No." This time it was James. "Lily's right. What happened to you could have happened to any of us, and we will find a way to help you."

But Fletcher only shook his head, and Bill saw no light in his eyes, even when the others agreed, voicing their support for him. Only Sirius remained silent, sitting next to Dung and staring into the distance.

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

"Severus."

The cold voice stopped him when he was almost to the door, making Snape freeze in his tracks. "My Lord?"

"Walk with me," the Dark Lord commanded, rising from his throne and sweeping forward. Severus bowed his assent and remained silent, not missing the angry glares he received from his companions--Lucius, who so hated to be overshadowed, despite his appearance of superiority; Bellatrix, who had so recently been foiled when attempting to sneak onto the Hogwarts grounds; Narcissa, who possessed none of her sister's insanity but all of her cruely; and Rodolphus, who had entered Voldemort's closest circle by virtue of marrying Bellatrix and hardly had a skill aside from a violence and an ability to break anyone. Not one of them appreciated a private moment that any of the others spent with their master--it upset their precarious balance of power and position. Yet it was a game that Severus had been playing for his entire adult life, and he didn't really care what they thought, anyway.

The door closed silently behind them. The pair wandered in silence for several moments, drifting through Voldemort's palace and moving closer to the prison all the while. In the distance, Severus could hear screaming, and a shiver ran down his spine as he realized who it had to be--there was only one living prisoner in Azkaban at the moment.

He fought back the urge to swallow. And that prisoner is my student, Severus thought emptily. What kind of monster does it take to leave him here? Regret, however, had no place when one walked by the Dark Lord's side, and he shoved it away. I'm already damned. What does it matter?

But it did matter. It always did.

"It is almost time, Severus." The Dark Lord's voice startled him.

Snape blinked. "Yes, My Lord," he replied after a moment. "It is."

Cold laughter. "Does this surprise you?"

"I--" he sighed. "No, My Lord. It does not."

"But you love Hogwarts," the Dark Lord said suddenly, displaying unusual perception.

Despite his best efforts to hide them, Severus was sure that his emotions were written all over his face. "I do."

A low chuckle. "It is fitting, then."

"My Lord?" Coldness seized his heart.

"It is fitting."

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

They were contemplating leaving by the time Snape walked in--or, rather, Bill, Dung, and Lily were going to leave, because Sirius had a feeling that the others would not let him leave without first getting an explanation out of him. That thought, however, made him sigh. He'd been ready two nights ago, when reality and the Order of the Phoenix had intervened. Now, he was not so sure.

He shivered as Snape walked in, and resisted the urge to rub his arms for warmth. Doing so never helped.

"I apologize for the delay," Snape said shortly. "I was...detained."

"We understand," Remus replied softly. "Please sit down."

Sit the Death Eater did, in uncomfortable proximity to Sirius, who really wished he'd go away. Their few moments of understanding from that night on Avalon had faded, and Sirius had no desire to associate with the one man who knew exactly what potions he had taken. And their affects. While Snape had only brewed the Conmalesco for Voldemort in the past, both the Augeosensus Solution and Memory Enhancer were even more dangerous, a fact Snape better than anyone, save perhaps Sirius. And Snape did not have nearly as many reasons to keep quiet as Sirius did.

"We haven't found anything," Lily began without preamble, her eyes on Snape. "I have already talked to Dung, but the Unicorn Group has not been able to find any cure for the Distance Seeing Enchantment." She took a deep breath. "Except for the old one, of course. Killing the caster."

"I don't suppose you know who cast it," Peter ventured quietly. "It might make things a lot easier."

Dung shrugged helplessly. "I don't remember it being cast," he admitted. "But I think--I know--that it had to have been."

"I disagree."

Every head turned to look at Snape in surprise, and Sirius felt himself grow cold. Yes, this was it. And things always could get worse. Lovely. He resisted the urge to snort bitterly. It wouldn't help.

"Will you explain?" Remus asked Snape reasonably. Remus was always reasonable.

Snape scowled in response. "I have a difficult time believing that we could uncover this fact so suddenly and not dispute it."

"It's not exactly sudden, Severus," Dung interjected. "I have been wondering...for a long time."

"How long?" Snape demanded, his lips pressed tightly together, as if he was trying not to sneer.

Dung shrugged. "Too long. I should have acted before now."

"No. You shouldn't have." Dark eyes swept around the room. "Every one of you is missing the most crucial--and obvious--point of all: What if it isn't Dung?"

Each member of the Broken Circle swallowed and stared at one another. Except for Sirius--he waited for the rest to drop. It did not take long.

"If not me, then who?" Dung demanded angrily.

"Do you have to ask?" Snape's scowl deepened. Every eye swung to Sirius.

He took a deep breath and let it out again, making sure he had a firm grip on his temper. It was far more prone to escaping his control these days; Sirius had spent years learning to control it (ever since the infamous incident with Snape, Remus, and the Whomping Willow), and now had to relearn everything all over again. Sometimes, he felt as if he was trapped with nowhere to go, and the feeling made him want to lash out, just as it had in childhood. Sirius had thought he had escaped. He was wrong.

"I am not," he said very slowly, "under the Distance Seeing Enchantment."

"How can you be sure?" It was Lily, surprisingly, but her voice was gentle.

"Because I remember it," Sirius replied. "Every moment, and every try."

Her brow creased slightly. "There could be something you don't remember..."

"No. There isn't."

"How can you be sure?" Remus asked quietly.

Sirius sighed. This is neither the time nor the place. "I just know."

"Even if it were true, Severus, nothing Sirius could have done explains ICEBREAKER," Dung put in. "He was still in Azkaban, then."

"Nor does that indicate you were at fault," the other replied coolly. "As usual, you are jumping to unfounded conclusions. ICEBREAKER was a Ministry operation as well as an Order one. Too many people knew."

"Not that many," James pointed out.

"Even if so, Voldemort is a sufficiently talented wizard to have uncovered Weasley's surface thoughts and discovered him in that manner."

"I doubt it," Bill replied. "I saw him once or twice during my entire time in Azkaban, and I promise you that the wand and Portkey were the last things on my mind at the moment."

"I agree. It's not very possible," Lily spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "Under the right circumstances, perhaps, but..." She trailed off, shrugging.

"Must we then assume the Distance Seeing Enchantment?" Snape demanded. "My research indicates that it is a very unstable spell, effective only when the caster chooses to peer through the victim's eyes. I find it slightly...coincidental that the Dark Lord has discovered two major undertakings in this manner."

Peter glared at Snape. "Do you have a better suggestion?" he asked testily. "Or are you just afraid of being found out as a spy?"

Snape laughed once, then the amusement in his expression faded into a nasty sneer. "Afraid of what, Pettigrew?" he snorted. "The Dark Lord knows I am a spy. He is aware of my position within the Inner Circle. I report to him as often as I do to the Order."

"What?" Suddenly, Bill was sitting up straight and staring at Snape. "You--"

"Of course he knows, Weasley," the Death Eater snapped. "Do you think I could fool him for twelve years if he did not know my position? I feed him information, and he believes that my loyalty, in the end, belongs to him."

"Just like we do," Bill said coldly.

Snape only nodded.

Lily, however, held up a hand to forestall whatever James was going to say, breaking up the argument before it could begin. "What are you implying, Severus?" she asked calmly. Still, there was a slight edge in her voice. "Sirius does not believe he is under the influence of the Distance Seeing Enchantment. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, we must agree with Dung's explanation."

"I am saying that he"--Snape jerked his head in Sirius' direction--"does not require the Distance Seeing Enchantment. He has this, and the Mark is far more powerful than any mere spell could ever hope to be!"

While speaking, the Death Eater had torn his left sleeve back, exposing his Dark Mark for all to see. Snape's was pure black; it looked more like a tattoo than anything else, dark and foreboding but not constantly burning. Sirius, however, did not even bother to look at Snape's Mark. He knew the symbol well.

"You would know," he told Snape coldly.

Black eyes narrowed. "I'm not speaking about the stain on your soul, Black. I'm speaking of the power it has over your mind."

Sirius stiffened; he could not help doing so. "Power?" he demanded. The word came out far sharper than he intended it to, and the headmaster's office suddenly felt frigid.

"Power," Snape confirmed. "Look at what it's doing to you, fool. Look at what he's doing to you. Through you."

"All I have done, I have chosen to do," Sirius replied coolly.

"Have you?"

And suddenly, there was no point in arguing. There was no point in trying to explain. He knew what he had done, and knew why. The others would not understand.

Rising, Sirius strode from the room. Even when Remus called after him, he did not stop. He kept walking, and went the only place he knew to hide. Thus, the man who was growing too dark to trust his friends went to the Isle of Light.


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