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 26

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: Remus starts searching for a new DADA teacher, Peter does the unexepected, and Rita Skeeter again tries to ruin someone's life}.
Posted:
07/22/2003
Hits:
2,096

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Twenty-Six: Unforeseen Choices

"I was thinking," Remus said over breakfast, "that since you have deprived me of my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, you owe me a favor or two."

Sirius snorted. "It wasn't exactly my idea, you realize."

"True, but in the absence of Voldemort, I certainly must blame someone." His friend smiled slyly.

"I see how it is." Despite himself, Sirius smiled in return. Doing that was getting easier--sometimes. And although he'd hardly slept the night before, it was shaping up into a fine day, especially with the events they had planned for that night.

Remus chuckled. "I'm glad you do."

"Indeed. What favor do you feel I owe you, then, o fearless headmaster?"

His cheek was rewarded by Remus almost choking on his orange juice, and Sirius smirked. It took the headmaster a moment to contain himself, but then Remus rolled his eyes. "You keep saying things like that, and I won't offer you a job!"

"A job?" he looked at his friend oddly. Whatever had crawled up Remus' robes this morning? A job? Surely, he'd gone crazy.

"Yes, a job," the other replied mildly. "The Dark Arts position, to be precise, seeing as how you've lately proved yourself to be rather qualified for it."

Sirius stared. He blinked, turning over the possibilities in his head. It was odd to think of himself as a teacher, especially given all the detentions he'd served--and all the ones he'd managed to get out of by shear virtue of not getting caught. Remus had always wanted to teach, and Sirius had never had a problem imagining him being at Hogwarts, but as for himself...the thought was simply foreign. And Remus could not be serious about it. He gave a lopsided smile. "I think too much time around the kiddies has mucked your brain up, mate."

"I'm quite serious, Sirius."

"Changed you name, did you?" he riposted immediately. "Liked mine so much that you couldn't resist?"

Remus groaned. "You had to do that, didn't you?"

"You left yourself wide open," he agreed.

"Don't change the subject." His friend gave him was probably his patented 'headmaster' look, but Sirius blew right by it, unfazed.

"Did I?"

"You certainly did, you insufferable maniac!" Remus replied with exasperation. "Look, I'm being...dang it--being around you makes me restructure all my sentences--The offer is genuine, Sirius. I'm not joking; I'm offering you a job."

For a moment, all he could do was stare. A second had to pass before he could even begin to mull over the possibilities in his head, which gave Sirius a very strange feeling indeed. Trying to picture himself as a teacher was difficult, even if the Dark Arts had always been his best subject. The years at Hogwarts had been the best of his life, and returning to them was a sorely tempting thought; in many ways, Hogwarts was the closet thing to home that he had ever known. Coming back to stay might do a great deal towards healing the gaping wounds still resident in his soul and psyche, even if he wouldn't be seeing James or Peter every day. Heading to Hogwarts when he'd escaped from Voldemort had been a natural decision--the castle had always been a safe haven for him.

Sirius blinked, and then peered out at the hundreds of young faces eating breakfast in the Great Hall. Were they so very different from what he and his friends had once been? They lived in a darker world, and yet he saw the same laughter, the same smiles. Like he, they would someday leave Hogwarts and face the bitterness of reality; unless Voldemort was stopped, these children would enter the same war he had been fighting, in one way or another, for fourteen years. Many would make the choices here, at Hogwarts, that would determine how they fought that war, if they lived or died, and even which side they would chose. To do so, however, they would need guidance and preparation from people like Remus Lupin, who were dedicated to their futures and well being.

Slowly, he let out the breath he'd been holding. As a student, he'd never respected his teachers enough... He looked over at Remus, and saw his friend's deep blue eyes watching him expectantly. On the surface, the choice was hard--until he remembered what he once had been, and what he always would be. Finally, he spoke quietly.

"I'm going to have to refuse, Remus," Sirius said gently. "As much as I admire what you do here, and how it helps our cause, I can't do it. I can't sit on the sidelines and teach. It's a noble and worthwhile pursuit, but it's not for me."

"You'd be safest here, you know," his friend replied softly.

"I know," he admitted. "But I can't let him frighten me away like this. And I'm sick of being a victim. I've got to fight back."

Remus frowned. "No one could argue that you haven't already done enough, Sirius."

"The war isn't exactly an equation, though, is it?" He shrugged. "I don't really know how to explain it, Remus. It's just that I can't. I've got to keep fighting. It's one of the only ways I know how to prove to myself that I am all I once was."

The headmaster looked at him worriedly, and Sirius tried to clarify.

"I feel a responsibility to do so, now... I much the same, but I am different from before... Something happened, and I don't remember what, but Azkaban changed me. I become more aware of it every day."

"Aware?" Remus asked warily. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. It's as if something is just outside of my consciousness, just beyond my reach," Sirius shrugged. He opened his mouth to further describe the feeling, and was caught completely unaware by the memories.

Screaming.

Chains.

Fighting and not completely remembering why.

He'd never been so tired. Recent memories were a blur, but he had a sense that the battle of wills had been going on for some time. Somehow, he also knew that this wasn't the first time.

A thin white hand raised a wand, pointing it directly at Sirius' heart. He braced himself, digging deep to find resistance of any kind, and clinging to the tattered and fading memories of life before hell. After what seemed an eternity, the high and cold voice spoke very precisely.

"Mandatus Prospicio Subigum!"

Each clipped word sent pain shooting through his body. A fire started burning in his heart and spread outwards, making Sirius buckle in the chains, struggling for air and for control. Instinctively, he knew to fight it, although he didn't quite understand why. His senses told him this was Dark magic, very dark and very ancient, yet he'd never heard of the spell he was fighting with all his heart and soul. He only knew he had to, had to ignore the pain and keep his mind his own--

"Sirius?"

Remus' voice jerked him out of his unexpected daze, and Sirius shook his head unsteadily, blinking hard to banish the memory. Suddenly, his friend's hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and Sirius realized he was shaking.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked quietly.

He swallowed. "I'm fine." His mouth was very, very dry for some reason. "Just a memory."

"You went as white as a ghost, Padfoot."

"I'll be okay." Sirius shook his darker thoughts away, banishing them by force. "It just caught me by surprise."

"If you're sure...?" Remus' hand withdrew after a final squeeze as Sirius nodded.

"Have you ever heard of a spell with the incantation of 'Mandatus Prospicio Subigum'?"

The headmaster frowned. "No, why?"

"Just wondering."

"Are you sure that you don't want to reconsider the Dark Arts job?" his friend asked quietly. "Just for a little while, even. Until you're, well...better?"

"Like Fletcher, you mean?" he asked, jerking his head down the table in the Transfiguration professor's direction.

"Hogwarts is a safe place to heal, Sirius."

He sighed. "I know. But I don't think there's any way to beat my demons except by facing them. I can't hide."

"I had to try, you realize." Remus smiled slightly.

"I know. But why don't you offer Dung the job? He's at least as qualified as I am," Sirius pointed out.

"He won't touch it. Says he doesn't want to deal with the Dark Arts," was the quiet reply.

"Ah." Part of Sirius couldn't blame Fletcher, but a part of him could not understand the fear. Running from things, in his experience, only made things worse in the long run. And no one could flee before Voldemort forever. "I see."

"Yeah," Remus agreed quietly. "It's getting interesting, too. I've had a few applicants, although I'm not very interested in any of them."

"Oh? Like who?" he asked with interest.

"Oddballs, mostly. Barty Crouch's son, for one--he's working in the Department of Mysteries right now. Gilderoy Lockhart, too, although I'm not sure that I could stand an ego that big around here. Dolores Umbridge has also applied, but that woman gives me the creeps. She's also created all kinds of trouble down in the Department of Magical Catastrophes with Cornelius Fudge."

"Sounds like a full roster," Sirius commented sarcastically.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Hardly an hour of experience between them, unless you count Lockhart, and I certainly wouldn't believe a word of what that man says."

"Why not?" The name of Gilderoy Lockhart rang a faint bell for Sirius, but he was certain that he'd never met the man, unless they'd been at Hogwarts during any of the same years.

"Because he's an arrogant and pompous git, that's why," Remus replied with disgust. "Every witch in the Magical world is drooling over him, and I hear he's got some new book coming out, titled Magical Me, or something like that. He was four years ahead of us here, Hufflepuff--although I think they've disowned him by now. Be glad you haven't met him."

"I'll take that under advisement," Sirius responded. "So what are you going to do about the DADA job?"

"Interview all three of them, of course," Remus said fairly. "Crouch Junior will be in today, Umbridge tomorrow morning, and Lockhart the day after that. Ought to be entertaining, at least."

"I bet."

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

James swallowed as Arthur and Molly both took seats at his kitchen table, trying not to look nervous, but knowing that he was failing miserably. Lunch was all ready set out for them, and looked appetizing enough to the eye, but he was anything but hungry. Right now, the mere thought of eating made James sick to his stomach.

"Where's Lily?" Molly asked suddenly.

"Still at work. Dumbledore's in a meeting with the Daily Prophet and she couldn't get out."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Molly replied.

"Yeah," James replied quietly. "Me, too." But in some ways, Lily's absence made this easier. He still didn't know how to tell them, but at least he would. That much he was sure of. As he was busy trying to figure that out, Arthur abruptly took matters out of James' hands.

"Something is bothering you, James," the older wizard said gently. "This isn't simply a social lunch, is it?"

The tabletop suddenly seemed very interesting, but he forced his head to come up and meet Arthur and Molly's eyes in turn. "No," he said slowly. "It's not. In fact, it's about Bill."

Molly gasped. Arthur went white. Perhaps, James realized, he should have approached the topic in a different manner, but he was stuck now.

"He's not dead," he clarified quickly. "That much we know. But the Order hasn't been entirely truthful with the two of you about what's been happening--"

"He hasn't been...kissed, has he?" Molly whispered.

"No." At least as far as we know, he added silently. But James would rather lie than tell the truth, especially since they didn't know. He took a deep breath and continued. "What you haven't been told is why Bill was captured in the first place."

They both gave him confused looks. Slowly, Arthur spoke. "'Bella told me there was a raid, and that he made a mistake..."

"There was no mistake." James swallowed. He had known this would be hard, but had never imagined how much it would be. "I sent him to Azkaban."

"What?"

"Bill's capture was a part of Operation Icebreaker, which the Order has been working on since last September. The idea was for one wizard to infiltrate Azkaban, armed with a carefully concealed Portkey and wand. After one week, both would appear, enabling him to either break out or to bring others in. But something went wrong. The week deadline has come and gone, and we've been monitoring the Portkey as best we can. It has not been activated.

"This, unfortunately, means Bill was discovered," James continued quietly. "How, we do not know. But now he's on his own."

They took it better than he had expected, but the blow still hit the Weasleys hard. However, Arthur and Molly were both strong individuals, and it took only a few moments for Arthur to find his voice. "So now what?"

"We're still trying to crack Azkaban," James replied. "And we might even have a chance, now...but I can make you no promises. All I can say is that we'll do our best to get him back."

Molly swallowed, and the look on her face told James that lunch would go uneaten. "Well," she said quietly. "I suppose that's the best we can ask for, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wish there was more I could say." I wish I could stop sending good people to death.

"We know, dear." Molly squeezed his arm, and he saw tears glittering in her eyes that she was too proud to shed. "And I'm sure that Bill understood the risks."

James closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, swallowing back emotion. "Yeah. We all do."

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

"How'd you get caught, kid?" the scratchy voice asked.

Bill thought it had been three days since he'd first discovered the ability to speak to the prisoner in the cell next to his, but this was the first opportunity they'd really had. After that first day, first Bill, and then his neighbor, had been taken by the Lestranges; following that, as there always was at night, the Dementors roamed freely around the prison. Combining their effect with torture had made Bill catatonic for awhile, which accounted for his difficulty grasping how much time had passed--as if Azkaban alone wasn't capable of doing that.

He hesitated before answering. For a moment, Bill considered telling the truth--he had nothing to lose, after all, since Voldemort all ready knew and had foiled his mission. But a part of him was unable to tell, unwilling to crack, even after so much time. It didn't really matter to anyone except for him, but he had to cling to something.

"A raid," Bill finally responded. "Things started going wrong, and then I got caught..."

There was a cough from the other side of the wall that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "If you don't want to tell me, kid, just say so. You don't have to lie about it."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be," Frank replied. "Place like this...it's good to see that you're still thinking, at least."

"What about you?" Bill asked.

"Dumb. Trying to play hero..." Frank coughed. "But I got my team out, anyway, and that's what counts."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. He felt strangely free without the Dementors around; for some reason, every day around noon, they retreated for a while. Why, Bill still did not understand, but he was not about to press his luck. It was nice to own his soul for once, even if it was only for a little while.

There was a long moment of silence before Frank spoke again. "So...you were outside more recently that I. Anything new and extraordinary?"

"Not really," Bill admitted. "They're still trying to break into here." If Frank was in the Order, he'd understand that 'they.' If not, he'd probably just assume the Ministry--and either way, Voldemort knew the truth. Bill was finding it hard to care about that.

"Ah. Too bad they don't hurry on that one, eh?"

"Yeah."

They shared a silent moment of companionship again, saying nothing, yet both were grateful for the knowledge that they weren't alone. Finally, though, the need for conversation--reassurance--grew great, and again, Frank spoke. His voice was very quiet. "I heard there was a breakout."

"A what?" Bill's heart started thundering in his ears. Could it be possible?

"Yeah. Rodolphus Lestrange was muttering like mad about it...have you heard anything?"

"I wish," he whispered. Maybe there was hope, after all... Pointlessly, his eyes started scanning the four dank walls of his cell, searching for any way out--but there wasn't one, of course. There never was.

"Keep your ears open, though. Maybe, someday..."

Frank seemed unable to finish the thought, and Bill couldn't either. Hope was almost impossible to grasp. "Yeah...someday..."

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

Salamander's had been the premier fine dining establishment in the Wizarding world since its grand opening in 1842. Although there were restaurants that could claim longer and more illustrious histories, none were more luxurious or could boast of finer fare. This magnificence was accompanied by prices that could clean out a poorer family's Gringotts vault, of course, but that was to be expected. With only one exclusive location, deep inside London and just off Diagon Alley, Salamander's waiting list often stretched to days long, and sometimes even weeks. But the oldest families always had a table reserved.

Even so, it wasn't every day that the senior members of two of the Fourteen Families walked through the great ebony doors. Accordingly, the maître d' immediately rushed past the three parties whom had been vying politely for his attention and approached the newest group of guests. At the same time, a trio of servers rushed to prepare their most exclusive table for four, already alerted, with customary Salamander's efficiency, that one of their guests required special needs and not to put out the silver,no matter how nice it looked.

"Mr. Black, Mr. Potter," the maître d' bowed graciously. "Welcome to Salamander's. Please, right this way. A table for four?"

Remus and Peter exchanged bemused glances, but James nodded graciously. "Private if you have it."

"Of course."

The Marauders followed their guide docilely enough, trying to ignore the curious--but circumspect--glances that drifted their way as they were led deeper into the spacious restaurant. Finally, they reached a beautiful round table made entirely of ivory. The chairs were plush with purple cushions, and the dinnerware was pure gold; over all, the effect was of something out of another and more elegant place and time. As each wizard reached his seat, he found his chair pulled back by a human server who wore a courteous smile. Salamander's had always prided itself on the 'human touch'; in this greatest of Wizarding restaurants, there would be no magical gimmicks.

After taking their drink orders, all four servers disappeared.

"Wow," Peter said quietly. "This place is amazing."

Remus arched a skeptical eyebrow. "I'll reserve judgment until I taste the food."

"Oh, come on, Moony," James chuckled. "You can't deny that the service is fantastic."

"All very well for you to say, Mister Potter, but I'm not exactly used to the royal treatment." But Remus allowed himself to chuckle softly.

James laughed. "Nor I! I haven't been in this place since my sixteenth birthday--you know how my family eschewed the status game."

"My parents, on the other hand, lived for it," Sirius interjected darkly. "I've been in Salamander's so often that I used to have the menu memorized." Then a lopsided smile creased his features. "I imagine that it's changed a bit in ten years, though."

"Just a tad, I suspect." James grinned, looking up at Remus. "Well, Moony, are you going to crack your menu open or sit there and starve in protest?"

Remus noticed with some embarrassment that all his friends were already engrossed in making their choices and shrugged self-effacingly. "I suppose I might take a look." Finally, a grin wormed its way free of his control.

To his left, Peter glanced up. "The prices here are astronomical, James," he said in an undertone. "I mean, when I suggested that we go out to dinner together, I didn't mean..."

"Don't worry about it, Wormtail," James replied easily. "I've got--"

"You're not doing a damn thing," Sirius cut him off. "My treat."

"Sirius--" all three of them started, but each Marauder shut up upon seeing a familiar mulish look on their companion's face.

"That's right," he said cheerfully. "Don't even bother arguing with me. After all, I've got more money than I know what to do with--even more than you, Prongsie-boy--and it's been doing nothing but collecting dust and interest these last ten years in Gringotts. So let me do this for my friends, who helped me in ways even they might not understand."

It took a moment for Sirius' last words to sink in, but when they did, Remus had to stop himself from staring in open-mouthed surprise. Rarely, even in their early years, had Sirius expressed himself so openly, and right now, with that still-haunted look in his eyes, it meant more than ever. Sirius smiled though, as they stared at him in silence, and this was a real smile that went a great way towards dissolving the lump in Remus' throat. The Marauders waited quietly as the servers reappeared with their drinks and departed just as swiftly, but none of the trio took their eyes off of Sirius. They'd lost him once, and thought him gone forever; right now, it seemed each was realizing just how lucky they were to have him back.

Sirius picked up his goblet and held it high. "Allow me to propose a toast:

"To friendship," he said quietly. "To bonds that don't break. And to brothers, who stay together--no matter what--until the end."

"To friendship," the chorused, raising their glasses in salute.

In that moment, everything clicked. Ten years of separations faded into nothingness, and while each still bore the scars of loss, choices, and mistakes, the distance that had marked their transition into adulthood was gone. Never again would one stand alone enough to be targeted by Death Eaters. Never again would one disappear without the others tearing the words and themselves into shreds to find him. And never gain would any Marauder stand alone against any odds, for they had come full circle. It had taken losing, mourning, and regaining one of their own to do so, but once again they were four seventeen-year-old boys bonded and unshakable, together until the end. They would never break again.

The four glasses touched with a soft clink, brining to mind a handshake in a small secret passageway so many years ago. Remus smiled as he sipped his drink, remembering, and saw his expression mirrored on three other faces as they did the same. He lifted his glass once more.

"To the Marauders," he said. "Long may we reign."

Full-fledged grins broke out and glasses touched once more. "Marauders!"

"Now," Peter interjected with a smile, "let's eat!"

"You know, Wormtail, I have never heard a finer idea," Sirius declared, burying his head in the menu once more. Chuckling, Remus did the same, and as he finally made his choice, a server magically appeared at his elbow, asking,

"What would you like tonight, Headmaster Lupin?"

Remus smiled slightly, somewhat surprised to find himself so well known. Of course, he shouldn't have been amazed at all; if Dumbledore having appointed him as the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts years ago hadn't been enough to wake up the Wizarding world, his ascending to the headmaster's position had. The flurry of pro-werewolf legislation (along with increased rights for centaurs, merfolk, house elves, and all other kinds of beings) that Dumbledore had pushed through the Ministry had certainly helped Remus become the most well known of his kind, too. If they hadn't been at war, the new laws would probably have never passed, but they had, and over the ensuing years, Remus had ceased to be viewed as so much of a frightening monster. Now, he was just an abnormality of nature, grudgingly acknowledged as human at any other time than the full moon.

He placed his order with a polite smile, pleased to notice that the server showed no particular unease around him. After the servers were all gone, James looked across the table at Peter. "So, why did you want to get together, anyway?"

"Not like this isn't a brilliant idea, of course, but you did seem to have an ulterior motive," Remus chuckled.

Peter smiled slightly. "You all know me too well."

"You're uneasy, Peter." Leave it to Sirius to ignore niceties and get straight to the point. "What's wrong?"

"Well... I guess I just wanted you three to hear it from me before you read it in the paper tomorrow morning," Peter shrugged.

"Read what in the paper?" A lead weight had just taken up residence in Remus' gut. The others, he noticed, looked equally wary.

"I did an interview with Eric Dummingston this morning," their friend replied quietly. He took a deep but slightly shaky breath before continuing, "The article will be in tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet. In it, I openly admitted to being a Death Eater...and I publicly renounced Voldemort."

In all their years together, Remus had never heard his friends so quiet. Finally, though, it was James who spoke.

"You know what this is going to do to you, don't you, Peter?"

"Make me the biggest target since Sirius escaped Azkaban, yeah, I know," Peter smiled crookedly. "But I had to do it. I don't want to be a spy, and I can't just hide." His green eyes searched their faces desperately, seeking understanding. "I want to make a difference."

His words echoed in Remus' ears. How many times had he heard them before? From himself, from Sirius, from James...but never from Peter. Peter hadn't ever overcome his own natural timidity strongly enough to feel the burning need to fight--until now. And what could one say in the face of such unexpected courage? Remus was at a loss for words, but he knew Peter needed to have his friends' approval. He only wished that he could say what his friend needed to hear.

It was Sirius who leaned to his right and clapped Peter on the shoulder. "You will, Peter," he said with a smile. "I have no doubt that you will."

"Nor I," Remus agreed, finding his voice. Suddenly, though, James snickered.

"Congratulations, mate," he said with a grin. "You're about to make Voldemort's all-time want list. By tomorrow morning, I'm sure Skeeter will have laid odds on how long it will take you to die."

At Peter's aghast look, Remus punched James in the left arm. "Don't worry. He's only joking."

"So says the only Marauder not on that list," Sirius snorted. "You're falling behind, Moony."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Thanks, but I'll forego that particular honor."

"And there is such a list," James interjected. "I'm currently rated number two, right behind Dumbledore, but Sirius is set to take my place soon. Thanks to you, I might even get to fall to number four!"

"That's not very funny, James," Peter pointed out.

James shrugged. "Laugh or it kills you. Personally, I'd rather laugh."

"Me, too," Sirius agreed quietly.

As their food arrived, conversation turned to lighter topics. Soon, they were reminiscing about old times, old pranks, and old friends. It was amazing to see the years lift away from them all, but even more rewarding to see the lines slowly ease off of Sirius' face and see him truly laugh and enjoy himself. Remus hadn't seen him this carefree in over a decade, yet looking at him across the table, there were moments when the same light would enter Sirius' eyes and he would seem ten years younger, unscarred by the hell Voldemort had put him through. Watching him argue good-naturedly with James--inevitably, it was about Quidditch, just like nearly every other disagreement they'd ever had--was like looking into the past.

"But you have to see Harry play," James concluded. "He's completely amazing. I've never seen a Seeker like him. Forget that Bulgarian--what is his name, anyway, Drum? Something like that. Anyway, Harry is simply unbelievable. You've got to see it to believe it--tell him, Remus."

Hogwarts' headmaster laughed. "For once, Sirius, James isn't just bragging about his son. Harry is rather unbelievable."

"It's Krum, by the way," Peter interjected. At James' blank look, he clarified: "The Bulgarian Seeker. His name is Krum, not Drum."

"Oh. Right. Who cares about Bulgaria, anyway?" James asked, but the others laughed.

"I never thought I'd see the day when James Potter made a mistake when talking about Quidditch," Sirius snickered. "It's about damn time."

"Oh, shut up."

"Good evening, gentlemen," a voice suddenly intruded on their discussion, and all four turned to face Mr. Salamander himself. After a moment of surprised silence, the Marauders managed to remember their manners and return the greeting.

"Has your food and service been satisfactory this evening?" Salamander asked.

"Yes, thank you," Remus replied. "Everything has been wonderful."

"If there is anything else you require, please let us know," the restaurant's owner continued with a smile. After James assured him that they would, Salamander turned to go, only to stop and offer a half-bow in Sirius' direction. "And welcome back, Mr. Black. You have been missed."

"Thank you," Sirius replied quietly, and Salamander departed.

"Talk about service," Peter remarked.

"What else can you expect with a Black and a Potter sitting at the same table?" Remus chuckled. "They'll bend over backwards if they have to."

Sirius snorted. "You should have seen what happened when I brought Julia to this place--"

He cut off with the most surprised look on his face, blinking twice as if he couldn't believe what he'd just said. The most extraordinary expression crossed Sirius' face, then, and Remus watched as a new light entered his eyes.

But Remus remained silent, noticing immediately that James and Peter were doing the same. How could they break the news to Sirius without shattering what little remained of his heart? He was finally coming back to them, finally starting to heal--but this could undo it all. Unfortunately, Sirius had noticed when his three friends' expressions turned to stone.

"She's a Death Eater, isn't she?"

His voice had gone hollow, and the face that had so recently been filled with light had darkened. He was pale, now, heart struck, making Remus remember just how precarious hope could be.

"Yes," James answered very quietly, and Remus didn't miss it as something odd crossed his face. "She is."

Sirius closed his eyes. His face went blank, but when he looked out at them again, his eyes were resigned. "Well," he said slowly, "I suppose it's not a surprise."

"Talk to Snape," Remus said suddenly, the words escaping his mouth before he had a chance to think it over. The need to give Sirius hope had overridden all other precautions. He clarified quickly when faced by his friend's blank look. "He's her friend, Sirius, and knows her best. There may be something more here than meets the eye."

"What do you mean?" Sirius demanded.

"I don't know, but--"

"Excuse me, Mr. Black, but Mr. Salamander thought you might like to see this immediately." The arrival of the maître d had cut Remus off in mid-sentence, and Sirius accepted the offered copy of the Daily Prophet. Apparently, it was the evening edition, but Sirius' face steadily grew more fixed as he read the front page. In the meantime, James thanked the maître d', who retreated in due course, leaving the three friends to wonder and wait.

Finally, Sirius looked up from the paper, his eyes haunted and face tight. Wordlessly, he passed the Daily Prophet left to James, whose eyes widened angrily upon reading the headline. Remus, however, kept his gaze focused upon Sirius as his friend dropped his chin into upturned hands and sighed. Once James handed him the paper, Remus shifted left so that Peter could read with him.

AZKABAN ESCAPEE CLOSE TO THE EDGE

by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent

Haunted eyes look out from a face that is still too thin, and Sirius Black

declines the chance to talk about his experiences. The once handsome

wizard is now but a shadow of his former self, grossly underweight and

walking with a slight limp that he will undoubtedly have for the rest of his life.

His eyes are dull now, and empty when he's distracted; close friends speak of

how he seems to be only a corpse walking around in the body of Sirius Black.

Once a famous Auror and very outgoing wizard, Black is now quiet and

withdrawn, haunted by ten years in the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-

Named. News of his miraculous escape has been all over the Wizarding

world in recent days, and he has been feted as a sign of hope--yet experts

from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries say not to

place too much faith in Black just yet.

"Black has undoubtedly suffered intensive psychological damage in during

his time in Azkaban," says Horace Funderburke, the Healer-in-Charge of

St. Mungo's Mental Ward. "At this early stage, it would be ludicrous to expect

too much out of him. Right now, what Black clearly needs most is counseling

and professional help."

Many in the Magical community are skeptical about Black's sudden escape,

his new status as a hero, and most of all, his much-celebrated capabilities.

Although there were many witnesses to yesterday's incident in Diagon Alley,

the truth of the matter is that James Potter, the famous Auror who had been

accompanying Black, probably did most of the spell work involved in fighting

off two Death Eaters.

Sources close to Black confirm these reports, saying that he is currently in

no condition to enter the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He is

constantly disturbed by memories and nightmares, apparently having difficulties

functioning on a day-to-day basis. There are also, of course, lingering questions

about his sanity after spending so long in the hands of the most powerful Dark

Wizard in history, not to mention the Dementors of Azkaban, to which he has

been constantly exposed.

Therefore, while Black's future role in the war is yet to be seen, it is clear that

he will be doing very little at the present, and is hardly symbol of hope that

others have already begun to claim he can be.

Remus looked up and met James' unhappy gaze. The silence remained, however, until Peter had finished the article; he had always been the slowest reader of them all. Finally, as Peter set the Prophet down, muttering an oath under his breath, they all turned to Sirius. In the few moments it had taken Remus to read the article, Sirius' face had transformed from haunted to angry. His blue eyes were narrowed.

"Do I look insane to you?" he asked sourly.

"And 'close friends', my arse," Peter snarled. "Who the hell has she been talking to, Snape?"

"Even he's not that stupid." James shook his head. "More likely the witch just made it all up."

Remus peered carefully at Sirius. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He raked his hands through his shoulder-length black hair irritably. "Aside from the being insane, incompetent, and empty part, that is." He smiled bloodlessly and shrugged. "Well, one out of three isn't too bad."

"Don't even joke about that, Sirius," James said with alarm, and Remus watched Sirius force a smile.

"Sorry, mate. I'm being slightly bitter, that's all."

"You have every right to be," Peter said quietly. "Especially after this piece of trash."

Sirius shrugged again. "I'm just glad that James took her damn Quick Quotes Quill."

"I wish it could have done more," James responded, but Sirius waved him off. His face was still angry, but he was calculating quietly.

"So," Remus wondered finally. "What are we going to do about it?"

"We?" Sirius echoed skeptically.

"You honestly don't think we'll let you take on that bat by yourself, do you?" Peter demanded.

"Not likely," James commented.

Remus smiled. "Not possible."

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Anyone who's interested in seeing the "Unbroken Universe" trailer, check it out (in Windows Media Player format) at the following link: www.gladiator.scriptmania.com/Unbroken%20small%20win.wmv.