Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Harry Potter James Potter Ron Weasley Remus Lupin Sirius Black
Genres:
Action Drama
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 02/26/2003
Updated: 11/13/2003
Words: 164,724
Chapters: 41
Hits: 101,291

Promises Unbroken

RobinLady

Story Summary:
Sirius Black remained the Secret Keeper and everything he feared came to pass. Ten years later, James and Lily live, Harry attends Hogwarts, and Voldemort remains…welcome to a darker world.

Chapter 18

Chapter Summary:
Sirius Black remained the Secret Keeper and everything he feared came to pass. Ten years later, James and Lily live, Harry attends Hogwarts, and Voldemort remains…welcome to a darker world where nothing is as it seems. {This Chapter: Midnight pranks, mistrust, and aftermath}
Posted:
05/25/2003
Hits:
2,220

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Eighteen: Loyal Until the End

"There's somethin' I have ter tell yeh three," Hagrid said suddenly, causing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to look up. There was something serious in his voice, a sober quality that the trio had never heard before from the gamekeeper.

"What is it, Hagrid?" Hermione asked. They had gone to pay him a visit in lieu of Harry's normal Quidditch practice (because of Oliver's death, the Quidditch season had been canceled, which had caused the Slytherins to rise in uproar, but Harry definitely agreed with. He couldn't imagine finishing the season without Oliver). Contrary to popular belief, Hagrid did make excellent hot chocolate, even if the rest of his cooking was horrible. At the moment, though, having drunk their fill, the trio's ears perked up as the gamekeeper's mood changed.

"Well, yeh see...I'll be leavin' for awhile. Leavin' Hogwarts, that is," the half-giant replied. "I was suppos' ter go awhile ago, but things got delayed a tad... Anyway, I wanted ter tell yeh because the three of yeh are so nice about visitin' me an all."

"Leaving?" Ron asked.

"Where are you going?" Harry said at the same time.

Hagrid puffed up his chest importantly, and Harry had to fight back a smile as the gamekeeper beamed. "I can' tell yeh that."

"Can't tell us? Why not?" Hermione pressed, ever curious.

"'Cause it's a secret, that's why. Now don't go askin' me more, 'cause I really can' say." But Harry was almost positive he could guess who Hagrid was working for, if not where he was going. There was, after all, only one answer that made sense.

"A secret?" Ron echoed dubiously.

But Harry looked up at the big man, whom much of the magical community treated with outright disdain but he had come to love. Most people that hated Hagrid didn't know him at all. Still, he couldn't resist asking, "Is it about the giants, Hagrid?"

"What?" He was rewarded by a widening of the eyes and a shocked expression that Hagrid's reflexes weren't quick enough to cover up. "What gives yeh that idea, Harry?"

"I was just thinking," Harry shrugged. "I mean, if they're going to send someone, you're the most logical--"

"Wait jus' a minute!" the gamekeeper cut him off. "Who's this 'they' yeh keep talkin' about, Harry?"

He'd gone too far. Even his parents didn't realize how much Harry knew about the Order of the Phoenix, and revealing that to a stranger wasn't a good idea. "Uh... No one?"

"An' what makes yeh think that I'd be the one to send?" Hagrid eyed him suspiciously.

"Umm..." Fortunately, Hermione came to his rescue. As usual.

"Hagrid, we know you're a half-giant," she said quietly, quickly continuing before he could reply. "But we don't care. Professor Quirrell was talking about giants one day in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and--"

Harry cut in, trying to spare Hagrid a lengthy explanation that he didn't want or need to hear. "It really doesn't matter," he reassured the gamekeeper, whose expression had become very strained. "We don't think of you differently because of it."

"You're still our friend," Ron added, much to Hagrid's surprise. It took the gamekeeper a long moment to reply.

"Yeh don' care?"

"Why should we?" Hermione asked innocently, and Harry did not add the list of reasons that he could think of to care--because none of them mattered. They were only old prejudices that Hagrid had nothing to do with, and didn't deserve to be blamed for.

"Well..." the half-giant started.

"We don't care, Hagrid," Harry cut him off. "Really."

"Thank yeh." Hagrid blushed slightly, and started blinking rapidly. "Yeh don' know how much it means ter me ter hear yeh say that..." Suddenly, the gamekeeper sneezed noisily. He smiled. "It means a lot, an' yeh three are special. Don' ever let anyone tell yeh otherwise."

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

It was nearly sunset by the time the trio headed back from Hagrid's hut, having said their goodbyes for how long they did not know. They would miss Hagrid, but the children understood that there were more important things for him to do than remain as Hogwarts' gamekeeper. Who would replace the half-giant, they could not guess--even Hagrid did not know, although he assured them that Professor Lupin would find someone, and Hogwarts would manage fine. Their worst nightmare, however, was acquiring a gamekeeper who was as bad as Filch. Hagrid was wonderful, because he didn't mind their pranking, and wouldn't have wanted to catch them, even if he saw them wandering around at night. A new gamekeeper, on the other hand, could prove seriously detrimental to the Misfits' midnight activities.

And then there was Professor Snape, who could prove detrimental to anything the trio wanted to do, including walking peacefully across the grounds. Spotting him from far off, they took the long way back, skirting around the outer wall to avoid him. The last thing they needed was to ruin a perfectly good day with Snape.

"So who were you talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked as they trekked towards the castle's main entranceway.

"Huh?" Harry blinked.

"They," she responded, eying him carefully.

"Oh, that." Harry shrugged. Then he smiled. If you couldn't trust friends, who could you trust? "Well...I probably shouldn't tell you, but..." Both Hermione and Ron stopped, watching him now, as curious as he'd ever seen them. "I meant the Order of the Phoenix."

"So your dad is a part of that," Ron whistled.

"Yeah."

"Then what is it, really? What do you know? Who's in it? What do they do?"

"Ron!" Hermione grabbed the red-haired boy's arm before he could get carried away. "Harry's right. He shouldn't tell us."

Ron scowled. "Sometimes, Hermione, you are absolutely no fun."

Hermione rolled her eyes, retorting, "Sometimes, Ron, you really need to--Oh, look!"

"Where?" Ron asked. He and Harry both followed the line drawn by Hermione's pointing finger, which led straight to the Hogwarts gates. At first, Harry had to squint to see in the fading light; the nearby trees put the gates in shadow and a cloud had just passed over the sun, which made it hard to figure out what she was pointing at. However, Harry was able to see what she was talking about after a moment's study.

A giant black dog was limping through the front gates.

"Come on!" Hermione bolted forward while both boys stared. "It needs help."

"Hermione, wait!" Harry made a futile grasp at empty air as she shot away, trying to tell her that in the Wizarding world, not every animal was what it seemed. Ron apparently had the same idea.

"It might not even be a dog, you stupid girl!" the redhead howled. "Get back here!"

Of course, she didn't stop, and having no choice, both boys took off after their friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Snape's head snapping around to face the dog, and to his surprise, the deputy headmaster broke into a sprint. But the students had less ground to cover, and the boys caught up to Hermione just as she slammed to a stop. Dreading what he would find, Harry tore his eyes away from her and looked at the dog, just in time to see it stagger one more step, and then transform into a man.

And collapse.

He might have been a tall man, but it was hard to tell when he was on the ground. His hair was long and black, tangled and dirty from years of misuse. His skin was a ghostly shade of white where it wasn't discolored by bruises, and it was stretched tightly over his thin frame. A second glance revealed to Harry that there was blood matted in with the dirt in his hair, and the right side of his face was caked in dried blood. The filthy robes the man wore were in tatters; gaps in them revealed more bruises and half-healed or open gashes and cuts. His right arm was at an odd angle, too, and--

"My God," a soft voice whispered from Harry's right. It was Snape, whose features were nearly as pale as those of the man lying on the grass.

Pale blue eyes flickered open, blinked, and then slid shut once more. "Dumbledore..." the man rasped. "James..."

He shuddered once, and then slumped, unconscious. For several long seconds, the trio and their least favorite professor stood frozen, their minds working in overdrive as they tried to figure out what was going on. Snape swung into action first, his hand landing heavily on Hermione's shoulder.

"Granger, get the headmaster," he snapped. "The password is Procopius. Go!"

Hermione flew off like lighting as Snape knelt by the stranger's side, checking carefully for a pulse. If Harry hadn't stepped forward at that moment, noticing how shallow the pale man's breathing was, he would not have heard the professor whisper under his breath, "This is impossible..." But then Snape was rising, and his wand was out.

"Transferocorpus." With a flick of his wrist, the deputy headmaster conjured a stretcher and levitated the unconscious man onto it. He glanced briefly over his shoulder. His dark eyes were sharp, yet still unreadable. "Weasley, run to the Hospital Wing and alert Madam Pomfrey."

Some other time, Ron might have argued, but like Hermione, he raced away to do Snape's bidding. Harry, on the other hand, kept his eyes fastened on the stranger, having been given no tasks to complete and having nothing to do except watch the deputy headmaster. The closer he studied the mystery wizard, the worse his condition appeared to be. For example, as he watched, the man seemed to twitch slightly, his face tightening in pain. There was more than dirt covering his robes, too, which might have once been gray but now seemed to be a sinister shade of grimy--and bloody--brown. Most of those dark patches, Harry was coming to realize, were not dirt. The man's bony wrists were torn and raw, and there were ominous marks around his neck, too. But then Harry had to jog to catch up as Snape strode forward, levitating the stretcher behind himself and taking the shortest path toward the Hospital Wing.

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

Hermione reached the stone gargoyle in what she felt had to be record time, grateful that she had managed to remember the way without mishap. After all, she had only been to the headmaster's office once, and there wasn't time for mistakes. Panting, she spat out the password, but nothing happened. For the first time in her life, she resisted the urge to curse as she struggled to catch her breath. There wasn't time for this! A man's life could depend upon how fast she was! Stupid password!

"Procopius, already! Pro-cop-ius." she snapped. Finally, the gargoyle began to move. "Hurry up!"

Ever so slowly, the gargoyle rotated aside, revealing the spiral staircase behind it. Without hesitation, Hermione jumped onto the stairs, taking them two at a time until she reached the top and then had to wait for the staircase itself to finish moving upwards. Impatiently, she taped her foot, wishing that generations of Hogwarts headmasters had chosen a slightly speedier way to enter their office. Sure, it was graceful and dignified, but what did people do when they were in a hurry? Finally, the doorway slid open.

"Professor Lupin!" Hermione burst in, already shouting. "Professor Lupin!" She glanced around desperately. "Oh, please be here! Professor Lupin!"

"What is it Hermione?"

She looked up to see him at the top of the staircase, leaning on the railing and looking down at her with surprise. Lupin was dressed simply in plain work robes; clearly he hadn't been expecting visitors. Hermione supposed that students didn't burst into the headmaster's office everyday, madly shouting his name. However, she didn't have time for niceties. "Please, sir--you've got to come. Professor Snape said to get you--"

Lupin was already in motion, his long legs taking the stairs two or three at time as he rushed down. "What happened?"

"There was a dog--an Animagus--he came through the gates and collapsed. He looks like he might die--" The words were all coming out in a rush, and Hermione struggled to control herself. "Please Professor, you have to come. He's in really awful shape and I think Professor Snape is taking him to the Hospital Wing."

But Lupin had stopped cold and had become even paler than the man they had found outside. For a moment, it seemed like he had to struggle to speak, and when he did, his voice came out in a strangled whisper. "A dog?"

"Yes," Hermione tried not to sound impatient, but she knew she failed.

"What kind of dog?" Professor Lupin asked shakily. His knuckles were very white, gripping the staircase's railing.

Hermione frowned. What did that matter when they were wasting time? "I'm not really sure. Big, and black...but what does that have to do with--"

"Like a Newfoundland?" the headmaster whispered.

"Yes, I suppose so--"

Suddenly, Lupin was in motion again, leaping down the remaining stairs and bolting through the doorway. Startled, Hermione followed, trying to understand the taunt expression on the headmaster's face as he waited anxiously for the stairway to spiral downwards. He looked ready to explode, and fairly well did so the moment that the gargoyle swung aside, forcing Hermione to run as hard as she could to keep up with his longer strides. Heedless of her failing efforts, Lupin raced through the castle's passageways, scattering confused students as he went. Many eyes followed his frantic journey, but the headmaster paid them no heed, and his lead over Hermione lengthened as they grew closer to the Hospital Wing.

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

As they entered the Hospital Wing, Harry witnessed Madam Pomfrey nearly succumbing to a heart attack. The matron stared at the man on the stretcher with wide eyes, deeply shocked despite the warning that Ron must have provided. However, she started moving quickly enough, and gestured at the nearest bed in the empty Hospital Wing. "Put him here, Professor."

Snape complied, and Harry tried to keep out of the way as the stranger winced slightly upon making contact with the bed. Pomfrey bent over her patient immediately, checking pulse and studying him in a professional manner, but even that could not hide the surprise and disgust on her face. The matron was abnormally pale, but she cast her diagnostic spells in a steady voice. The results, however, made additional horror wash over her features.

"What happened to him?" Pomfrey demanded.

"I don't know, but I can venture a guess, and it is not pleasant," Snape replied shortly. The stretcher had disappeared.

"And?" the matron inquired sharply, gesturing with her wand until a tray of medical supplies and potions floated her way.

"Voldemort." Snape yanked a vial out of her hand even as Pomfrey pulled it off of the tray. His face tightened darkly as the man on the bed moaned softly. "Don't use any potions I've brewed."

"What?"

"Just trust me," the deputy headmaster replied cryptically. However, his response was obviously not good enough for her, because Pomfrey's face colored with anger.

"Who is he?" she demanded, reaching for a different vial.

"I'm not sure." Snape glanced down at the stranger, his face oddly blank. He studied the other as the man twitched again, awakening slowly and painfully.

"Guess." Pomfrey's voice was harder than Harry had ever heard the kind woman be.

"If I'm right, a dead man," Snape replied, moving around the bed suddenly. He reached for his wand once more. "But this isn't the time for explanations--"

A sudden noise cut him off, and Harry turned to see the door fly open with a crash, and Remus Lupin standing frozen in the entranceway, as pale as a ghost. The headmaster's blue eyes were as large as saucers as he stared at the stranger, and unless Harry was mistaken, Lupin seemed to be shaking. Hermione appeared behind him, then, out of breath and with her hair all disheveled. Remus shot forward.

"Sirius!"

Haunted blue eyes flickered open once more as Lupin reached the stranger's side, but they slid shut again immediately. Far to the side, Harry heard Snape's sharp intake of breath from where the deputy headmaster had moved out of his superior's path to the bedside; a quick glance revealed to him that Snape was far paler than usual, yet his dark eyes were intense and still unreadable. Lupin, on the other hand, was just as pale, but his anxious eyes searched the face of the stranger--

"Sirius?" he whispered tightly. He bent over, touching the stranger's bloodied face with a shaking hand. The headmaster looked ready to collapse. "Padfoot?" Finally, the other man's eyes opened tiredly.

"Remus...?" His left hand moved slightly, and Lupin grasped it in his own.

"Oh, God...Sirius..." Seemingly close to tears, Lupin sat down on the hospital bed, still holding his friend's hand in his own. "We thought you were dead..."

"Almost," Sirius coughed; his breathing was strained. "But not...quite."

"What happened?" the headmaster asked quietly.

"Voldemort..." A shudder ran through him, and he winced in pain. From the side, Pomfrey started forward, only to be stopped as Snape grabbed her arm, shaking his head minutely. The patient coughed, and Harry thought he saw blood come up. "Need to...talk to Dumbledore."

Remus did not question him; the headmaster merely looked up and met Snape's eyes, getting a jerky nod in return. The deputy headmaster's voice was hard. "I will go."

He swept out of the room as Sirius spoke in a whisper. "Don't tell James."

"What?"

Lupin's startled question produced an echo in Harry's mind. He sensed both of his friends staring at him, but his mind whirled in response--could this really be his father's old friend, Sirius Black? Harry had grown up believing that Sirius, the godfather that he hardly remembered, had died to keep his family safe. But what if he hadn't? What if this was him? Harry didn't have time to consider the possibilities before the skeletal figure on the bed spoke once again.

"Not yet," he whispered shakily. "Promise me."

"But why?" the headmaster asked.

Sirius shuddered painfully. "I don't trust myself."

"I promise," Remus replied quietly, emotions whipping across his features to fast for Harry to read them.

"Thanks..." Sirius' eyes slid shut, and he slumped in exhaustion. Moments later, Pomfrey was at the bedside again, and Harry knew what her frown meant before she even spoke.

"Out, all of you!" She shot an especially stern glance in Harry's direction, and even though he wanted to stay--Could this really be my godfather?--he knew Madam Pomfrey would never allow it. However, still sitting on the bed, Remus was replying:

"I'm not leaving, Poppy."

His voice was quiet, yet very few ever made the blunder of mistaking Remus Lupin's quietness for weakness. He wasn't a screamer; when he spoke softly, you knew you were going to lose. She scowled at him, but from the unhappy expression on the matron's face, Harry could guess that she had previous experience of running into the wall that was Remus Lupin. Sirius coughed again, and this time there was blood.

"You don't have to stay, Remus," he whispered.

The headmaster looked down at him and smiled sadly. "Call it payback, Padfoot," he whispered as Sirius smiled slightly in return as he opened his eyes. The expression seemed almost alien on his battered face. "Unless you want me to go...?"

"No." Something haunted and pained flashed in Sirius' eyes. "Don't go."

"I won't," Remus replied, squeezing his friend's hand. "You're not alone, Sirius."

"I know." He shuddered. "It's just been a long time..."

But the headmaster's reply was drowned out as Pomfrey's attention returned to the trio. "Out you go!" she commanded, pointing at the door. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances, but they knew that they would lose. Still, in the back of Harry's mind, the question lingered: Could this really be Sirius Black? Reluctantly, they departed. "And close the door behind you!"

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

Sirius' grip on his hand was both very tight and very weak at the same time. His eyes told Remus all that his words had not said; they were haunted in a way that Remus had never seen a man hurt. Voldemort, Sirius had said. What he hadn't said, hadn't needed to say, was ten years. Ten years ago, he had been captured--but it was more, actually, if the truth were told. Today was the second of February, which made it ten years and four months...but the headmaster did not have the time or the inclination to worry about particulars--Sirius tensed as Pomfrey lifted her wand. Remus glanced at him anxiously.

"Sirius?"

Something old and pained flashed in his friend's eyes. "Sorry..." Sirius replied quietly. "Habit."

His voice was hoarse, and for a moment, Remus wondered why, until he realized how foolish that question would be to ask. Probably from screaming, you idiot, he thought angrily. Where do you think he got hurt like this? Remus had to bite back a surge of fury that wouldn't do Sirius any good. His sensitive nostrils picked up a lot more than the eye could see, or perhaps even Pomfrey's spells could identify. This didn't happen escaping. He was tortured.

And Remus didn't know what to say to that 'habit.' All he knew to do was squeeze Sirius' hand and be there for him. "It's been a long time," his friend had said. Sirius had been alone for ten years. No wonder why he flinched when someone pointed a wand in his direction. But Pomfrey was frowning mightily.

"What is it, Poppy?"

"There's something wrong." The matron's eyes were narrowed in concentration. "My diagnostic spells are coming up...odd."

"How so?" Remus felt his breath grow short with concern. For a moment, he considered the notion that this wasn't really Sirius, but discarded it just as quickly. There was no denying that this was Sirius; there were things that could be faked, but the number of people in the world who knew about Padfoot could be counted on one hand--and even then, there was no way Sirius' grim-looking form could be faked. No, there had to be something else wrong.

Sirius' shaking became more pronounced. Remus smelled intense pain. Pomfrey replied softly, "If my spells are correct, there is no way he should have been able to walk."

"They're not wrong," Sirius whispered. He shuddered again.

I almost don't want to know what those spells are turning up, Remus thought to himself, but he glanced at Pomfrey. "What can I do?"

"Not much." She frowned, biting her lip in concentration. "I need to deal with the internal injuries, first..." Poppy's eyes darkened with compassion. "You realize, Sirius, that this is going to hurt a great deal."

"I figured," the patient responded softly. Remus winced to hear the exhaustion in his friend's voice. How long had he been on the road? Where had he come from? Remus could only think of the hell that the journey had been for Sirius...especially if he had come from Azkaban, which Remus was almost afraid to ask. Later, he told himself. Right now, he had to be there for Sirius, and do what he could...even if it was, in truth, very little. Instinct, however, propelled him to take the next step, and Remus pulled Sirius upright ever so slightly, wrapping his arms around his friend. Sirius tensed at first, but after a moment, Remus felt him relax. Then, ever so slightly, he felt Sirius' left hand tighten on his shoulder.

"You're not alone," Remus whispered. Sirius nodded silently, and Remus released him with reluctance, taking his hand once more. He had a feeling that his friend would need it.

He was right. Sirius shuddered as Poppy went to work, leaving the headmaster to simply to give him something to hold onto and inspect the damage done. Magical medicine was an advanced art, he knew, but even then, some things took time--and others caused pain. Ten minutes into Poppy's complex spell work, Remus almost stopped her to ask why she couldn't give Sirius something to numb the pain, but then his sensitive nose answered the question for him. Sirius reeked of potions, so many that Remus couldn't even begin to separate the scents from one another and figure out what they were. But the pain he could not miss, nor the obvious injuries.

The reason why Poppy had thought her diagnostic spells wrong was because by all rights--or for someone who did not take Sirius' native stubbornness and Animagi form into account--Sirius shouldn't have been able to walk. His right leg lay, even now, at an odd angle, and a tear in his trousers showed Remus a bloody and mangled knee and lower leg. His right shoulder, too, was definitely broken; Remus could see the way it laid at an odd and wrong angle. The fact that his right arm was also broken did not really surprise Remus; Voldemort subscribed to the old theory of how breaking the wand arm disabled the wizard.

Sirius' body jerked suddenly, and Remus had to grab his friend tightly to hold him on the bed. However, when he tried to avoid the broken shoulder, Sirius' sharp intake of breath warned him of broken ribs. Remus swallowed hard. He hated being useless and helpless, and all he could do was whisper an apology and say, "Hang in there, Sirius."

All he got was a tense nod in reply, but at least it meant that Sirius was listening. Several minutes later, Poppy finished healing Sirius' internal injuries--the number of which Remus was almost afraid to ask--and moved onto the more obvious problems as Sirius shuddered in pain. After they stripped the disgusting robes off (Remus promised himself to have them burned if Poppy didn't see to it), the matron used almost an entire bottle of Wound Cleaning Potion on Sirius' numerous cuts and gashes. Too many of those looked like whip marks to Remus, especially on his friend's back. Later, he promised himself. Now is not the time. But he didn't like the way Sirius tensed at any touch.

Poppy spent a great deal of time on Sirius' torn wrists, and had to bandage both heavily even after she cast a Blood Clotting Charm on them. Then, she moved on to splinting both Sirius' leg and arm, at which point they learned his shoulder was merely dislocated, and not broken. Finally, Poppy fed Sirius a liberal dose of Skele-Set to help speed his broken bones' healing. By that time, Remus noticed that his friend had to blink to keep his eyes open, and he was shaking weakly.

"Sirius?" His friend blinked dizzily. "What's wrong?"

"Tired..."

And it hurts, but you still don't want to admit that, Remus thought. A little corner of his mind marveled at the fact that Sirius was there at all, that he had lived through that hell... "Rest, Sirius," he said quietly, reaching out to brush a clump of filthy hair away from his friend's eyes. Sirius' waxy paleness matched the snow-white sheets too well.

"Dumbledore...?"

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Remus replied. "Try to rest until then."

"I'd rather...not," Sirius whispered. His eyes were open again, with that haunted and hurt look that Remus had never seen from him before. Once, Sirius had been so carefree and happy--even as an Auror, having seen the war's atrocities first hand, Sirius had been a happy man.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Nightmares." In a word. Sirius shivered.

"Were you in Azkaban?" He hadn't meant to ask, but the question just escaped.

"Yeah." The pale blue eyes scrunched shut once more, but Sirius shook his head, trying to push it away. He shuddered.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up," Remus said quietly. What else could you say to the friend who had just defied death and returned from hell? Words just didn't seem to suffice, but Sirius understood. His eyes opened once more.

"It's okay." There was a moment of silence, and then Sirius blinked up at him in confusion. "Why are you at Hogwarts?"

Remus stared at him for a moment, and then forced himself to remember that Sirius really didn't know. He had been gone for ten years. He forced himself to smile through the melancholy that threatened to overtake him. "I work here."

"Teaching...?" Something flickered in his old friend's eyes, yet this time, it wasn't deep and dark. It was an older feeling, one that harkened back to the unbreakable friendship shared by four boys in the best years of their life.

"Since 1983." He nodded. "Actually, I am the headmaster, now."

Sirius' brow wrinkled, but even as his mind tried to work, his voice was weak. "Where's Dumbledore?"

"He's the Minister of Magic," Remus explained. "McGonagall's death drove him out of Hogwarts. He was needed there, and he couldn't stand it here anymore. So he went."

"Oh," his old friend said softly, assimilating the information. Something dark flashed through his eyes, and he shuddered. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too."

Finally, Sirius smiled slightly, which seemed genuine even if it was a little forced. "Thanks, Moony. For everything."

Remus had to swallow. "You're welcome."