Promises Unbroken

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Twenty-Five: Mysteries

The corridors were almost eerily quiet. Although the Misfits had done more than their share of wandering around after hours at Hogwarts, there was still something almost different about that night, a unique quality about the castle that told them that they really should choose somewhere else to create trouble. At any other time, they would have ignored the creepy feeling worming into all their minds, but that night, with one failed prank already under their wing, they were beginning to consider quitting.

Only for the night, of course.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you'd have listened to me in the first place, Ron, we wouldn't even be here. I already told you that Hogwarts, A History says that the stairs are controlled by an old magic unique to the castle itself--"

"I know," Ron snapped. "Will you stop reminding me already?"

"She does have a point, Ron," Lee pointed out. "If you had paid enough attention to her, then we would have come up with another prank instead of using your idea."

Harry swallowed. He hadn't exactly been listening to Hermione, either--after a while, one learned to listen around her long dissertations from Hogwarts, A History--but since their failed prank had been Ron's idea, Ron was getting the blame. He didn't feel that it was especially fair, but then again, all the Misfits had ragged on George when his latest experiment had proved disastrous only two days before, so he supposed it was only the way things went. However, he did feel honor-bound to interrupt. "So what are we going to do now? It seems like a real waste to have stayed up so late for nothing."

And it was late. The Misfits had already wasted two hours desperately trying to enchant the stairs to turn into rather slippery slides (for Slytherins only, of course), and now it was well past midnight. They weren't going to get much sleep at any rate, and the consensus was that they might as well use the time they had. Not a one of paid much attention to the eerie quiet; each thought it was only their imagination, and didn't want the others to think them crazy. Hogwarts was always eerie, in general terms, anyway. The castle was old, after all, and no one knew all its secrets. Even the Misfits.

Especially them, as it turned out.

Footsteps rang loudly against the castle's hard floors, and the six Misfits hurriedly exchanged startled glances. The Marauder's Map, checked several minutes before, had accounted for Filch, Hagrid, and all the professors, and none of them should have been able to reach this third floor corridor in such a short amount of time. Quickly, the six mischief-makers ducked into the closest hiding spot they could find; a small room off to the left, whose door had creaky hinges. Hermione whispered a silencing spell on it immediately, but even then, sound escaped. They held their breaths.

Harry felt his heart pounding. The last thing they needed was to get caught so close to the Easter holidays. He really didn't want to be serving detention when all the other students were getting ready to go home--although he knew that Remus would never make students stay over the holidays if they didn't want to, the prospect of detention instead of relaxation in the last two weeks of classes wasn't very appealing. And I had to leave the cloak behind tonight, didn't I? he berated himself. Way to go, Harry. Way to go.

The Misfits sank deep into the small room's shadows--a place, where, come to think of it, Harry had never been before--and looked at one another with hopeful eyes. Of course, Lee was very predictably cursing under his breath and mumbling something about how the room had no exit other than the way they'd come in, but that might not matter in a moment. Perhaps whoever it was hadn't heard them--

Then the door creaked, and Harry's heart crashed into his throat.

"The first rule of pranking is not to get caught," a familiar voice remarked casually. Dim light from the corridor began to seep towards them, and the Misfits sank deeper into the shadows, hoping against all hope that they wouldn't get spotted. Maybe he'd just go away if they pretended they weren't there. And maybe Malfoy will grow up into a Muggle-loving house elf, Harry though sarcastically. Right. We've in for it. The shadowy figure of a tall wizard was now visible in the doorway.

"The second rule, of course, is that when you are caught, not to pick a hiding place with only one exit."

Harry held his breath, and knew the others were doing the same. Perhaps he was just fishing in the dark...

"You can come out now," Sirius Black said lightly. "All six of you."

Lee mumbled something under his breath that his strict mother would probably wash his mouth out for. After a hesitation, though, Harry led the Misfits out of the shadows to face his godfather, who had stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. Sirius' blue eyes were focused on them; finally, a flick of his wrist and a mumbled spell brought light to the room and illuminated his slight smile.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed with relief. Of all the adults presently at Hogwarts, being caught by his godfather was a wonderful stroke of luck. Sirius was probably the only one who wouldn't turn them in.

"Guilty as charged," his godfather replied.

Harry frowned a little. "But what are you doing here?"

"Wandering." His blue eyes twinkled, but beneath the surface, Harry sensed that there was something deeper and less cheerful "As are you, I suspect. After hours, of course."

"Are you going to turn us in, Mr. Black?" Hermione asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Turn you in? Why would I want to do a thing like that?" Sirius asked. "And don't call me Mr. Black. It makes me feel old." His gaze swept over the six of them, finally centering on Harry. ""So, are you going to introduce me to your fellow mischief-makers, Harry, or do I have to guess?" His smile grew a little. "Let me see...the twins, obviously, Fred and George Weasley, which makes you Ron. Of course, Hermione Granger is the only girl, and Lee Jordan looks remarkably like his father. A rather diversified group, the Misfits."

"You told him about us?" George demanded of Harry in a hiss. But before Harry could stammer out an answer, Sirius chuckled.

"Of course he did. Your headmaster is the rule-following Marauder--at least these days--but I've never had an inclination to do so. Where else do you think he got the idea for that marvelous portrait changing prank that you pulled the other day?"

Harry grinned with relief, but his friends stared.

"That was your idea?" Fred managed, and then turned to glare at Harry. "But you told us that you got it from your dad."

"Actually, I told you that the prank had been done before. And my dad was in on it, but he didn't tell me about it." Harry smiled. Five sets of young eyes swiveled to look at his godfather, who gave a mock bow in return.

"Monsieur Padfoot, at your service."

Lee whistled. "You really are him."

"Of course I am. Didn't Harry tell you?"

"Well, yeah." Lee shrugged, and Harry snickered.

The following moment of silence, however, was hard to breach. Although Harry's fellow Misfits were delighted to meet the fourth Marauder, none of them seemed able to forget what had brought him there. Even now, behind the lighthearted smile and jovial words, there was a darkness that Sirius carried with him. It had retreated somewhat since Harry had seen him last, yet the haunted look in his eyes wasn't gone. Sometimes, when his eyes seemed to flicker aside momentarily, Harry caught glimpses of he demons lurking in his past, and knew that despite Sirius' apparent ease, he was far from healed. Finally, Hermione asked:

"So why are you here?"

"Wandering, mostly," Harry's godfather replied in an offhanded way that led Harry to believe he couldn't sleep. "When I heard the racket you six were making, I decided to discover if Hogwarts current generation of mischief makers was up to the Marauder's standards."

"We're better," Ron replied promptly.

Sirius chuckled. "Are you now?"

"Well, we don't get caught as much, anyway," Harry replied. After growing up on stories of the Marauders' feats, he wasn't willing to make declaration quite as bold as Ron's, but he knew they were good.

His godfather nodded. "Your father told me that he gave you the cloak. But we didn't get caught as often in our first few years, either--your problems will come later, when all the professors start watching for you." He smiled slightly. "But then again, with Moony as the headmaster..."

"It would be better if we didn't have Snape hunting for us," George replied glumly.

"No kidding," Ron agreed. "He hates us."

"Of course he does. Snape's always a cog in the wheels; he was at school, and I'm certain he is now."

"You went to school with him?" Fred asked with sudden curiosity.

"Unfortunately," Sirius replied dryly.

Hermione frowned pointedly as the others chuckled. "You know, it is rather late..."

"Come on, Hermione," Ron retorted. "Don't be such a pain."

"It's not that late," Lee argued, making Sirius smile.

"Actually, I would suggest that you listen to your voice of reason," he replied lightly. "As I know for a fact that Filch isn't in this part of the castle right now..."

Harry watched George check his watch as the Misfits exchanged glances. "I suppose you're right," the third year replied reluctantly. The Misfits weren't exactly a paranoid or suspicious group by nature, but like all witches and wizards, they were slightly superstitious. Right now, they were zero for two; their first attempt at a prank had failed, and then they'd been caught--which made the omens for a third try undoubtedly inauspicious. They hadn't been such successful pranksters through being stupid and careless, after all.

Quickly, the Misfits said farewell to Sirius, promising to speak to him again sometime (the prospect of learning about many of the Marauders' pranks had Fred and George all but drooling in anticipation). Then Lee, the quietest mover of the group, checked the corridor and signaled that everything was clear. Moving as stealthily as possible, the Misfits exited the room, but they hadn't gone more than ten steps before Harry stopped.

"I'll catch up with you guys later," he said. "I want to ask Sirius something."

Before the others could object, Harry rushed away, jogging in the opposite direction that his godfather had taken. As he approached, Sirius turned. "Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry slowed. "I just wondered if I could talk to you for a minute."

"Sure."

They walked in companionable silence as Harry tried to put his thoughts into words. Meanwhile, he couldn't help but notice how his godfather still walked with a slight limp, favoring his right leg ever so slightly. The corridors were very quiet as they traveled, which added an eerie feel to Sirius' presence. Every now and then, haunted eyes would cast flickering glances around, serving to highlight the remaining gauntness of Sirius' features and remind Harry just how long his godfather had been gone. That, of course, only made things harder, because unlike Remus and Peter, he hadn't known Sirius for all of his life and didn't feel quite as comfortable asking him questions.

"What's on your mind?" Sirius asked, jerking Harry out of his reverie.

He took a deep breath. "I was wondering what happened with Professor Quirrell two days ago. I mean, it's obvious that he's a Death Eater, but why did he act now? And how could he hide at Hogwarts?"

"You're very perceptive, Harry," Sirius said quietly, and the warmth in his voice made Harry redden slightly. There was a slight hesitation before his godfather continued. "To answer your second question first, it's better the enemy you know than the enemy you don't."

"You mean...?" Harry cut himself off, knowing better than to say more as the truth dawned on him.

"I do. As for the rest, well," Sirius shrugged. "Voldemort wants me back."

His words sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Although he'd grown up hearing his parents use the Dark wizard's name, somehow it was different to hear Sirius do so. Sirius had spent ten years in Voldemort's hands and wasn't afraid to do so, yet wizards who had never even seen He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were terrified of speaking a simple name. Harry swallowed. Somehow, he had a feeling that kind of courage wasn't easily gained.

"I wanted to do something," he said glumly, speaking almost before he'd realized the words were coming out of his mouth. "But there was so much confusion and everything happened so fast. Everyone was shouting and by the time I could get anywhere close, everything was over." Then he brightened slightly. "You were really fast."

Sirius snorted. "I managed, but I'm really out of practice."

"I think you were brilliant." He smiled, but then shrugged. "But I still wish I could have done something."

"I'm glad you tried, but it's probably a very good thing that you couldn't."

"Why?" he tried not to feel betrayed, but Sirius must have heard it in his voice, because he stopped and looked down at Harry.

"The first thing you have to understand, Harry, is that the very last thing your parents need is for Voldemort's attention to be drawn to you," his godfather replied seriously. "They've spent a very long time protecting you, and the longer we can keep him from remembering who you are, the safer you will be."

"But you--"

"I'm a grown wizard, Harry, and I doubt Voldemort can hate me more than he already does."

"Everyone always says I'm too young for things," he replied with bitterness that Sirius didn't really deserve. But the answering look was grave.

"Maybe you are," he replied quietly.

"I'm eleven."

"So?" his godfather asked. "I'm thirty-two, and there are lots of things I wish I was too young to know." He coughed, and then smiled slightly, but there was something haunted behind the expression. "Live your childhood while you can, Harry--God knows, it will be over soon enough. I know you get impatient with being left in the dark, but your parents are fighting to protect you...and so your generation doesn't have to fight the war that mine does."

The sadness and emptiness in Sirius' eyes gave Harry pause, as did the words he'd spoken. Somehow, when one of his parents mentioned how something was for his own protection, it didn't mean as much as when the same words came from Sirius. He swallowed suddenly, remembering that Sirius had almost died to protect his family.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't be; kids are supposed to be impatient," his godfather replied lightly. "That's part of growing up."

Harry nodded, and then changed the subject as Sirius' words made him wonder. "Were you in the Order, Sirius?"

"You're not supposed to know about that, Harry."

He grinned. Something in that tone told Harry that Sirius wasn't surprised.

"Yes, I was." Sirius chuckled softly. "A long time ago."

"Will you be again?"

"I don't know, to tell you the truth." His eyes darkened. "There are some doubts about my...reliability."

Harry looked at him in shock. "Why?" he demanded.

"No one has ever escaped Azkaban before," Sirius replied. "And the few that have ever escaped Voldemort's hands have never done so unscathed... Most have been corrupted and twisted into serving him."

"But Professor Fletcher did, didn't he?" he frowned.

Sirius shook his head. "Before the war, Mundungus Fletcher was one of the most laid back and carefree people you could ever meet. In fact, he wasn't even an Auror when I entered the division; he spent many years on the shadier side of the law. He only became an Auror when things started getting really bad. His experiences changed him, as I'm sure you can tell."

"Yeah."

"He was also rescued, which reassures many. They think it means Voldemort couldn't have let him go."

The bitterness in Sirius' voice was impossible to miss, but Harry didn't know what to say to that. They resumed walking in silence as he thought about what Sirius had said. Although it was still galling to be dismissed as being too young for something, he'd rarely considered why his parents wouldn't tell him things. All he ever thought about were the surface reasons and the fact that he was only eleven years old. Harry had always known that his parents were deep in the war with Voldemort, but they rarely brought work home and didn't often discuss things with him. He'd always been irritated by that, but Harry knew they loved him. That, and if anything, his parents had always been too protective.

"My, my, my... What have we here?"

Both Harry and Sirius spun upon hearing the dry and sarcastic voice, and Harry noticed as his godfather bristled upon meeting the eyes of Professor Snape. The dislike certainly seemed to be mutual, though, because Snape's eyes narrowed and he sneered.

"What a surprise," he continued acidly. "Potter wandering around after hours, encouraged, no doubt, by his irresponsible godfather."

"What a surprise it is to see Snivellus poking his nose in other people's business," Sirius retorted.

Snape's dark eyes burned. "Couldn't sleep, Black?" he demanded, striding forward menacingly with his robes sweeping around him. Those robes, Harry suddenly noticed, were different from the ones he usually wore, but the significance was not immediately apparent to him. "Are certain demons haunting you?"

Harry frowned. How dare Snape mock Sirius' time in Azkaban? Did the man have no feelings whatsoever, or at least respect for the hell Sirius had gone through? He was about to reply hotly, but his godfather's hand clamped heavily on his shoulder to stop him. Sirius, he noticed, had gone very white. Every line of his body was tense with anger, and his grip on Harry's shoulder was so tight that it was becoming painful. However, his eyes were dark and haunted as they stared the other wizard down. "I imagine," Sirius said tightly, "that you have never had the same problem."

Snape stopped. "You," he spat, "have no idea what I do."

"No?" Sirius retorted. "You can fool a boy, but I recognize the robes you're wearing.

Death Eater robes! Harry's eyes widened in shock as he remembered where he'd seen those before, although he never would have believed that Snape would have the gall to wear them at Hogwarts. The deputy headmaster, however, did not appear surprised at Sirius' recognition; however, he was still far from satisfied. His features tightened angrily. "Then you, of all people, ought to understand the necessity of doing so."

"As if that excuses the choices you've made," Sirius snorted. "But there are other things I understand, too, Snape. One of which is that you'd probably go to the Hospital Wing before you fall over."

"Your time spent in Azkaban has clearly addled your wits," Snape rolled his eyes as Harry peered at Sirius in confusion.

"Not enough that I don't recognize the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse." Steady blue eyes centered on Snape. "The pale features, the shaking hands, the uncertainty in your step--"

"My health is of no concern of yours!" But he'd shoved his hands inside his robes before Harry could tell if they were shaking or not. However, he was even paler than usual.

"And I'd just as soon not trouble myself with anything to do with you," Sirius agreed. "But I suspect that it is of some slight importance to others, if you know what I mean."

"I know perfectly well what you mean."

"Then don't be such a fool and stand here arguing with me," Harry's godfather replied with a nasty smile. "After all, I'm sure you have better things to do."

"I am capable of adequately dealing with the Cruciatus Curse, Black," Snape snapped irritably.

"And I'm not?"

The two wizards glared at one another for a long moment with matching and unmistakable hatred etched upon both faces. Finally, though, Snape's sense of self-preservation seemed to prevail, and he started to walk away, snapped over his shoulder as he went. "Get that brat out of the corridor before I subtract fifty points from Gryff--"

He collapsed.

Late night meetings were hardly James' favorite thing to do, but there were times when he couldn't' deny the necessity of doing so. A quick glance at Arabella's wall clock reminded him that it was nearly ten, the time that he'd absolutely promised Lily he'd be home by, but he was almost finished. As long as nothing untold happened--like an arrival of Barty Crouch, Sr., who had recently taken an unhealthy interest in his division--James figured that he'd be able to make it back to Godric's Hollow in time to avoid having to sleep on the couch.

"So that's it, then," 'Bella said quietly.

James sighed. "Yeah. With all the excitement surrounding Sirius' escape, I'd hoped there might be a chance, but..."

He shrugged, and his superior nodded. There were too many buts; too many things had gone wrong. That, and they both knew the price of false hope. "I find it difficult to believe that he'd be able to act after another week in that place," she agreed. "Unfortunately, the fact tat we have hard nothing probably means that his Portkey and wand have both been either confiscated or destroyed. Operation Icebreaker has failed."

"We were so close," James lamented quietly. "So damn close."

"Indeed we were," she agreed coldly--but her eyes glistened suspiciously with emotion, revealing the lie behind her uncaring demeanor.

Frustration welled up inside him along with worry for a man who he'd come to know as a friend. You sent him there, a nasty little voice in James' head taunted him. Bursting with confidence in your grand plan, you sent Bill to Azkaban, where he will now die. How are you going to tell Arthur and Molly Weasley that you have lost them another of their sons? Cold pain filled u his gut. "I want to know why," James spat angrily. "What went wrong? We know he made it in, and those spells were undetectable--so how the hell did Voldemort know?"

"It's possible that Weasley slipped..."

"Not Bill," James interjected. "He's better than that."

"Anyone can slip in Azkaban," his former Mentor pointed out. "And what other explanation is there?"

"We could have been betrayed."

'Bella's office suddenly grew very cold, and he swallowed once. The Order had encountered spies and traitors before, of course, but that never lessened their devastating impact. It never changed how much was at risk, or how deeply betrayal could burn. Finally, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement replied grimly:

"By who, James? So few knew...who do we blame? You or I? What about Dumbledore or Lily, perchance? Mundy would sooner cut off his own foot, and Severus did not even now for his own safety. And I hardly believe that Weasley would crack, given the circumstances. But then the list of suspects grows rather short, doesn't it?"

"There's something we're not seeing," James grumbled.

"Indeed there is," Arabella agreed quietly. "Then again, there always is."

The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was Remus Lupin. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a concerned expression looked down at him as he lay, he abruptly realized, upon his own bed.

"Tell me he's not here," Snape grunted immediately.

"He's not," the headmaster replied with an almost imperceptible sigh. His yes, however, gave his displeasure away.

"Good." He started to sit up, only to have Remus force him back down with a shove.

"However," he replied sternly, "you are quite lucky that it was Sirius who found you. Anyone else might not have had the sense to bring you here."

"He was in my chambers?" Severus demanded. Images of his shattered wards and wrecked quarters came immediately to mind, and he scowled deeply. It wasn't hard to imagine the chaos Black would wreck on the personal domain of a man he hated so much.

"Of course he was," Remus said evenly. "As was I, once he sent Harry to retrieve me. I might also mention that Sirius was smart enough not to take on your wards, especially given that I know all of the passwords."

"Well, that's a surprise." Snape rolled his eyes. He barely stopped himself from saying the next words that came to mind: I didn't realize he was capable of intelligent thought. Unfortunately, Remus knew him rather well after so long.

"Severus..."

He recognized the warning tone but duly ignored it. Instead, he gave the headmaster his most irritated look. "Can I get up now?"

"No." Remus looked as if he had more to say, but Severus overrode him.

"What time is it, anyway? I have classes to prepare for."

"I'm sure you do," the other replied in that dammed mild voice of his. "But first I want to know what caused you to drop unconscious in a corridor in the middle of the night."

Snape knew there was no arguing with that tone, but he had never claimed to be polite, even to his own friends. Especially after such a long night. "What do you think happened?" he asked bitterly.

"Perhaps I should rephrase the question to ask why Voldemort was so angry with you," Remus responded calmly. Few were the times when Severus could goad him, and this clearly wasn't one of them. Snape sighed.

"Black," he spat, and watched brown eyebrows rise curiously.

"I was under the impression that you could excuse the wand as an 'accident'," the headmaster replied.

"I did," he admitted, shifting slightly as pain shot through his chest. His vision was going blurry, but he' be dammed if he'd admit that. It was, after all, only a common side effect of the Cruciatus Curse. He'd dealt with worse, too. Many times.

"Did he believe you?"

Snape shrugged and regretted doing so immediately. "I am alive, so I assume so."

Remus frowned but did not argue; he, too, knew better than to bother. "Did you learn anything of use?"

"Aside from the fact the Dark Lord still wants your idiot friend very badly?" he asked dryly. He met Remus' eyes. "I still think there is something Black isn't telling us."

"He says that he does not remember, Severus."

"I heard him," Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes again. "But believe me, the Dark Lord does not ever act without a reason, and he is quite obsessive about getting Black--alive, if possible, which is not his normal method of operation, as you well know. There is something going on here, and I think that bastard knows what."

Remus' eyes narrowed. "He's got no reason to lie."

"Doesn't he?"

"No, he doesn't." The headmaster's voice grew hard and cold. "You may not like him, Severus, but Sirius has never been anything but loyal to the Order, and you know it. Also, Voldemort wouldn't be chasing him so madly if he was a plant."

"I never said he was a plant," Snape objected emptily. The anger that was glinting in Remus' eyes wasn't something that he saw every day. Besides, he didn't really think Black was a plant--the evidence was, after all, to the contrary--but he knew something was wrong with this entire situation. Why was he the only one who could see that none of the pieces quite fit together?

"No, but you certainly implied it." The other wizard gave him an intense look, in response to which he could only shrug. So I don't trust him, Snape thought irritably. I have absolutely no reason to. However, the headmaster continued again in his habitually calm and quiet voice; only because he knew him so well could Severus tell how controlled he was. "I believe him. If Sirius says that he does not remember, he doesn't remember, and while I'm sure there is a reason why Voldemort wants him so badly, unless you can uncover it, we will simply have to wait."

"Fine," Snape snapped, "but if this ends badly, don't blame me."

"It won't." There was something almost serene in Remus' voice.

"Do you know something I don't?" he demanded. Pain and exhaustion were making him irritable and dizzy.

"Not at all," was the casual reply. "I just know Sirius Black."