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.

Promises Unbroken 29

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 different world where nothing is as it seems. {This Chapter: Reunions, Hogwarts Histosry, and unexpected consequences}.
Posted:
08/05/2003
Hits:
2,863

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Falling Together

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Albus." Remus smiled, holding out a hand, which his predecessor took warmly. "How are you?"

"Good, thank you." Mischievous blue eyes twinkled. "And how are you, headmaster? I hear you interviewed Dolores Umbridge this morning."

Remus chuckled ruefully. "That was an interesting experience, I'll admit," he replied. "Dolores has many...ideas."

"Indeed she does," the Minister replied gravelly. "Between her and Fudge, one would think I am inept, senile, and completely incapable of running a sweets shop, let alone the Ministry and a war."

"Rubbish."

"True, but I am getting up there in age, you know." Dumbledore smiled gently, but Remus peered at him curiously. Seeing that, the former headmaster waved a hand in the air to signify that his comment was of no importance. "Don't mind me," he said cheerfully. "These are simply the ramblings of an old man."

"I doubt that," Remus contradicted him quietly. "You always have an ulterior motive."

"And so I do," Dumbledore agreed. "Will you take a walk with me, Remus? I have a sudden urge to explore the castle."

"Of course." They had been standing just inside Hogwarts' great front entranceway, but they moved off together, with Remus allowing Dumbledore to set the direction and the pace of their travel. Although his predecessor was well known for being eccentric and even slightly odd, Remus knew him too well. He knew that Dumbledore hardly ever did anything without a purpose. Finally, as they walked down an empty staircase, Remus continued quietly. "I suppose the meeting about Ministry teaching guidelines was merely an excuse?"

"Perceptive, as always, I see, Professor."

He shrugged. "I thought that seemed a little fishy."

Dumbledore smiled and merely led him deeper into the castle. As they walked, portraits cried out greetings to both current headmaster and old, and suits of armor snapped to attention, saluting as the two wizards strolled past. For Remus, the journey was like a scene out of memory; he remembered taking one just like this the day that Dumbledore had asked him to take his place at Hogwarts. There was no one, he remembered Albus saying, that he would rather trust with his school and his students. Those were words that Remus would never forget, especially coming from the first man who had trusted him for who he was, and had given him a chance regardless of the beast that lived inside.

As they walked, Remus noticed the ease of their travel. Although the castle was always more accommodating for its head, Hogwarts was still an old place with a great deal of personality. Staircases had a tendency to move without notice simply because they wanted to, depositing travelers--even headmasters--in places they did not want to be. However, this time the staircases were lining themselves up perfectly, often moving to fit in the line of Dumbledore's chosen path as if commanded to do so.

"What are you doing? he asked quietly. This was something Remus had never seen before, and as well as he knew the castle, had not thought possible.

"You shall see."

Remus arched an eyebrow, fighting the urge to tell Dumbledore that he wasn't a child anymore. However, he resisted; he was old enough to know that the old man only did things for a reason, and he could wait. Smiling, he corrected himself.

"Perhaps the question I ought to ask is where we are going."

"You always did as the smart questions," the former headmaster remarked. "Tell me, Remus, have you ever heard of the Founders' Door?"

He nodded immediately. "We found it during second year. There's nothing there."

Dumbledore's silver eyebrows rose in silent query.

"Or," Remus corrected himself slowly, "nothing that we could see."

"Correct again, Remus."

They traveled in comfortable silence down two more flights of stairs into the very bowels of the school. This had been the place of many meetings and practical jokes in Remus' youth; in the days before the Marauder's Map and their discovery of all the secret passageways, the basement levels were the best, and darkest, places that the Marauders could hide. But their interest had waned, eventually, as the four boys turned on to bigger and better game; even the discovery of the Founders' Door had not whetted their appetites.

The Founders' Door was one of Hogwarts' more minor legends. Long ago, it was said, the Founders--together, before difference and time split them apart--built a door deep in the castle to protect their greatest treasure. This door was said to be unbreachable by any except the Founders' chosen few, protected by the strongest concealment spells and wards that witches and wizards could create. Legend never told what was beyond the great door, of course, but rumors abounded. Some said riches, others power, and still more said knowledge. Once, it had even been rumored that the Philosopher's Stone lay behind the Founders' Door.

There was only one problem.

Remus stopped and studied the ancient door. It appeared little different from how it had two decades previously; the wood was rotted away in most places, leaving only half the original door in place. The bottommost hinge was gone, and the brass fittings that had once adored the wood were rusted and discolored beyond recognition. The Founders' Door could no longer close, let alone lock; whatever treasure laid beyond it had been long since carted away. Barely viewable in faded letters above the arched doorway were the words "Leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus." They made Remus smile at the mystery, just as they always had. The burden which is borne well becomes light. Placed over such a door, the words made little sense.

"Shall we?" Albus asked, and Remus nodded mutely, following his old headmaster through the Founders' Door.

"Welcome to the heart of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said quietly once they were inside. The chamber was full of discarded and decrepit furniture that had been seemingly rotting away for centuries. It, too, hadn't changed since Remus and his fellow Marauders had wandered this way; the room was just another basement chamber, full of rubbish and dirt and dust.

"The heart of Hogwarts?" he echoed.

"Indeed." Dumbledore turned to face him. "Legends tell, I know, of the Founders' Door and how it was built to protect the four founders' greatest treasures. Over the past one thousand years, this has brought many to Hogwarts, seeking riches, enlightenment, or power. However, they have each encountered the same thing you see today: nothing. What they never understood was that the founders' greatest treasure was their students, nothing more."

Realization dawned on Remus. "The door was built to protect those outside from what was within, not the other way around."

"Very good. In my Hogwarts days, this chamber was considered something of a great cosmic joke. Secret meetings and duels took place down here far more often than anywhere else, and like so many others, I came to disbelieve all of the legends. Such was my mistake."

Slowly, Dumbledore walked to the very center of the room, raising his wand. When he reached a perfectly round and remarkably intact table, he stopped. A sudden flick of his wand banished the table, though, and left a gapping circular hole in its place. There was a grate over the opening.

"This grate and the wards were not here when I was a child," he said. "All the evidence that I have been able to discover leads me to believe that my teachers shared our skepticism over the legends, and never thought to check this room. But this is a Font of Power."

"I didn't know such things still existed," Remus said in amazement, and his heart flipped over in his chest as he contemplated what that meant for his school.

"To my knowledge, this is the only one remaining in the world," Dumbledore replied. "Hogwarts was built upon it, as this is an ancient site of magic, and the founders built their door to shield the students from its powers--and the dangers inherent in any such power. For a student to fall into the font would be...disastrous.

"As I found out in my first year at Hogwarts."

Remus gaped. "You?"

"Yes." Dumbledore smiled slightly. "A group of us were practicing hexes and charms down here--meaning no harm, but simply being reckless children. There was an illusion over the Font, then, but only to keep us away from it. The enchantment was very old by then, and not too effective. When I failed to block a Hurling Hex, I was thrown into the Font. I still live with the effects to this day."

"You survived falling into a Font of Power?" Remus asked incredulously.

"I did," the legendary wizard replied quietly. "As must you."

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

"Concentration is the key," Jones lectured. "You cannot allow yourself to be distracted."

Sirius glowered. "Tell me of a situation when I'm not going to have a wand and still be stuck with Death Eaters firing spells at me."

"It is an entirely possible situation."

"Then I'll just run," Sirius countered, crossing his arms.

"You can't always run," Jones retorted levelly.

"And you can't dodge forever, either." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and struggled to remind himself that Hestia Jones was eight years younger than himself. When he'd started Auror training, she'd only been in her first year at Hogwarts; Jones simply hadn't seen the things he had. She'd been in the field, of course, and was good, too--her talent showed through even in moments like this--but she hadn't encountered the same darkness Sirius had. She didn't know, and he doubted that she'd ever stared failure in the face and known she was caught.

Heck, she'd probably never even been on a failed mission, judging from her attitude.

"And you can't allow pain to distract you, no matter what," Jones replied.

Sirius growled under his breath and hauled himself forward to face her closely, trying not to favor his game leg too much, even though it was throbbing like mad. They'd been working a basic Auror exercise: avoiding spells when wandless--however, Jones had insisted that he keep going well beyond the normal time limit, and while Sirius had been doing very well, he'd rolled wrong once and landed hard on his right leg, which had thrown his timing off enough to get hit on the next pass.

"Look," he snarled. "I would say that I know a great deal more about allowing pain to be a distraction than you do, seeing where I came from and what I did to get to where I am. However, I also know that it's not good to push the body beyond a certain limit unless you absolutely have to do so. I know all about working through pain, Jones. I've been doing it for ten years."

Her dark eyes regarded him narrowly. "Are you telling me that you don't feel the need to train as you would act in combat?"

"No." Sirius met her glare inch for inch. "I'm telling you that there's a line between training and stupidity."

"And I suppose you know just where that line is, do you?"

"Obviously, I'm more acquainted with it than you are," Sirius snapped. He knew that he shouldn't lose his temper, but Jones made it very hard, especially when she couldn't control her own. He reined in his boiling anger with an effort. "I'm taking a walk."

"We're not finished yet," she objected as he limped toward the door.

"I am." Sirius glanced over his shoulder at her one last time. "Or else I'll do something we'll both regret." Without waiting for a response, he strode out the door, heading out of the Ministry and towards sunlight.

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

"What?" Remus sputtered, staring at Dumbledore. But the old man only smiled sadly.

"When I fell into the Font, I found myself changed, Remus. Not only did the waters increase my natural magical abilities, but they also linked me irrevocably to the castle itself. As a first year student, I understood more about this castle, its secrets, corridors, and even passageways than any of my professors, because Hogwarts itself seemed to speak to me. When there was trouble, I would know before anyone else could because the castle would tell me--not with words, but I would know.

"When I came back, first to teach and then as headmaster, I kept these abilities a secret. You are the first person aside from Minerva McGonagall with whom I have ever shared this secret."

"Why me?"

"Because you are in need of this link now, Remus," Dumbledore responded. "I am certain you see the importance of it. When Lord Voldemort attacked the school in 1984, it was my connection to the castle that made him fail. The fact that he and I faced one another was completely accidental; neither of us intended to do so. He wanted to shatter the castle's defenses; I sought to preserve them. But without my connection to the castle, through this Font, Hogwarts would have fallen."

"But why now?" Remus asked. "Why not before?"

"Because there are other consequences to the font as well, ones I have been trying to understand for my entire life. The visions I have, Remus, the bits and pieces and wavering glimpses of the future, are not something I would wish upon anyone. They often do more harm than good. Often, I have wished that I could view the world through normal eyes, if simply to gain perspective that I no longer have." Dumbledore paused. "I think, however, that I have found a way for you to avoid the most adverse affects of the Font."

Remus' mind was reeling with the new information it was trying to assimilate. He didn't really know much about Fonts of Power; only a few books ever even mentioned them because they were considered to be more legend than fact. But from what he remembered, a Font was deadly if not channeled correctly. Finally, he asked, "How?"

"I was submerged in the Font for almost twenty minutes," Albus replied. "A much shorter time, however, will be enough to link you permanently with the castle while hopefully not burdening you with the visions as well."

"Why were you in for so long?" he wondered.

"I was a boy, and my companions were as well. It took some time for them to remove me from the well."

"The well?"

"The opening to the Font. I know not what lies beneath it, for the Font is very deep, but you will only enter the well, should you choose to do so at all," Dumbledore replied.

Remus chewed cautiously on his lower lip, staring at the well. It was such an innocent looking hole in the floor, if one did not count the grate, which seemed solid and sinister looking. That grate represented a boundary. On this side was the life he'd always lived, simple and fairly straightforward--and on the other lay a future unknown, containing powers that Remus did not even understand. But was it even a choice? Upon inheriting Hogwarts from Dumbledore, he'd sworn to protect the students at any and all costs, sacrificing heart and soul to do so if necessary, and Albus wouldn't have brought him here if he didn't think this was necessary.

"Do you think it will affect my condition?" he finally asked.

"No," the other replied slowly. "If anything, I believe that the Font may give you more control over the wolf...but I am only guessing."

Remus' heart pounded in his throat, but he forced it down back to where it belonged in his chest. That's only a guess, he reminded himself firmly. And this is dangerous enough without introducing false hope into the equation. He took a deep breath and prepared to accept. Dumbledore, however, spoke first.

"You can refuse this if you wish, Remus. I will understand."

"I know you would." He smiled slightly. "But I also know why you brought me here...and this is worth the risks."

"Very well then," Dumbledore replied. The left side of his mouth curled up in a lopsided smile. "I suggest you leave your clothes behind, then, else you'll emerge wearing nothing at all."

Remus chuckled and began to disrobe. "I'll take that under advisement, then."

A flick of Dumbledore's wand made the grate slide aside. "Only those who have been in the Font can move this grate," he explained. "Someday, you may choose to do as I have done, and pass the powers to another. Choose carefully, though, and remember that if you die before you move this grate, there will never be another."

"I understand." The finality in Dumbledore's voice sent a shiver running down his spine, but he looked at his predecessor. "Should I take my wand?"

"If you did, it would also be destroyed. After one minute, I will raise you from the Font."

Remus handed over his wand, which he had no intention of losing--ever. Stepping forward, he looked down into the well, noticing that the substance that had at first looked like water was full of subtle colors, dancing in the shadows. Light flickered every few moments, and now, standing so close to it, Remus could sense the power thrumming from the Font itself. He shivered, and glanced over at Dumbledore.

"Do not be surprised if one minute feels like a lifetime," the old wizard cautioned him. "An eternity will pass in your mind before you are released."

"All right." He swallowed. This was probably one of the singularly most stupid things he had ever done in his life, but at least it had a purpose. And he trusted Dumbledore.

"Whenever you are ready," Dumbledore said softly.

Remus stepped forward and fell into nothingness.

Sirius was looking in the front window of Quality Quidditch Supplies when an owl landed on his shoulder. He'd spent the last hour walking in Diagon Alley, and although he'd originally not intended to return to Auror Headquarters at all that afternoon (it was nearing lunchtime), he was beginning to think the better of that decision as his temper cooled down. Sure, he was still more than slightly peeved at Jones, but the job he'd set out to do seemed to be more important than indulging a minor grudge. Time, he knew, would prove him right, yet he didn't have time to argue with her. Voldemort wasn't about to give him that long.

Turning his head, he faced a giant brown barn owl that a corner of his mind knew he'd seen before. It was staring at him with large and bright eyes, and hooted impatiently when Sirius failed to notice the letter sealed in its claws. Blinking, he took the letter and was surprised to see the owl take flight before he could even figure out if it required a reply or not. Sirius frowned and unsealed the letter.

Sirius,

I am at Fortescue's, if you're willing to talk.

J.M.

It was suddenly very hard to breathe. Sirius blinked, trying to refocus on the letter before him, trying to make sure that this wasn't some kind of rude hallucination. After a moment, though, the words didn't disappear. They stayed, and more importantly, he recognized the handwriting. It was Julia's.

The mere thought of her reawakened a lot of things he'd thought dead. James' revelation in Salamander's had been extremely difficult to bear, but he'd coped by not thinking about Julia at all. Why hope for what he could not have? But here was hope, staring him blatantly in the face. He'd meant to ask Snape, per Remus' suggestion, but had never gotten around to doing so. Or maybe he just hadn't wanted to talk to the slime ball. Either way, Sirius knew no more than what James had said the other night--She's a Death Eater. That meant, of course, that this letter could very well be a trap. The words haunted him now, running over and over again through his head. She's a Death Eater.

But that doesn't mean she isn't still Julia. His life would have been so much less complicated if he hadn't fallen in love fifteen years ago or if he were simply able to banish those feelings now. But he had, and he couldn't. Julia. Unfortunately, Sirius knew himself. Trap or not, he'd go to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and find her. If you're willing to talk... Sirius snorted to himself as he set off. If. What a stupid, stupid, question.

His long strides ate up the ground between Quality Quidditch Supplies and Fortescue's. In no time at all he had reached the ice cream shop, and his anxious eyes scanned the crowed tables outside. Even though he knew nothing about what could happen, his heart was pounding, and Sirius almost hated himself for that. It was foolish to hope, he knew, but there was no convincing his heart of that.

Finally, his eyes found her. Julia was looking in the other direction, so for a moment he could admire her in profile, looking at the face he hadn't seen in so long. Her blond hair was shorter now than he last remembered it, cut to just below her shoulders, probably, although he had a hard time telling with it pulled up in a utilitarian ponytail. Her features were still cut from the same classic Malfoy mold, finely boned and yet hinting at hidden strength. The fingers of her right hand drummed lightly against the tabletop, while the left toyed with the spoon she held; both, of course, did not possess the manicured nails of a society witch. Julia's nails were ragged and short, cut to stay out of the way, regardless of appearance.

With an effort, Sirius stopped staring and moved towards her table. Oblivious, Julia looked down at her ice cream, stirring it absent-mindedly and unaware of his approach. Finally, though, he had come close enough to stand over her. It took a long moment to find his voice.

"Is this seat taken?"

Julia's head snapped up like a spooked Hippogriff's. She stared at him speechlessly, with gray eyes that were as wide as saucers, and Sirius swore that he could hear her heart pounding in time with his. For a long moment, neither could do more than stare at the other dumbly; there were no words to speak in a reunion that had waited so long in coming. Eventually, she managed to shake her head.

"No," Julia said quietly. "It's not."

Sirius sat with her letter still grasped tightly in his left hand. He didn't want to let go of it because he was afraid that if he did, both she and the letter would disappear, proving all his hopes to be lies.

"Hello," he finally said hoarsely. It sounded stupid, but that was all he could manage.

"Hi," she replied weakly. Then there was a long silence, and it was uncomfortable to the core. How could he find nothing to say when faced with someone who he had once known so well? How could mere years do this to them? They started to speak at exactly the same moment.

"Julia--"

"Sirius--"

She laughed. It was an uneasy and uncertain laugh, but it was still the most beautiful sound Sirius had heard in a long time. He tried to smile a little, and was somewhat surprised when the effort didn't fail entirely. "You first."

"I thought you were dead," she whispered suddenly. "I didn't know."

Sirius looked at her in astonishment. "I never thought you did."

If he had, the thought would have broken his heart. Julia seemed to see that as she blinked, replying, "You didn't?"

"I didn't even know that you were a..." He couldn't bring himself to say the words, and had to take a deep breath. "...until two days ago."

"Oh." Something flashed in Julia's gray eyes too quickly for him to follow. Once, Sirius would have been able to read that emotion like a book, but they had been apart too long. She whispered, "I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to press against the bridge of his nose as he tried to clear his head. "But you still are, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then why this?" Sirius asked bitterly. His eyes snapped open, and as much as he tried to hide the pain, he knew that it showed through. "Why do you even want to see me? You know what I am, Julia. That won't change, especially now. Not after where I've been."

"I know." Suddenly, her left hand shot out to grasp his right and Julia spoke in an undertone. "We're being watched."

Instinct and old training reawakened instantly, and Sirius felt a rush of adrenaline whip through his body. The response was instinctive. "Yours or mine?"

"Both, I think," Julia answered. "I recognize the wizard to my right, but not the witch to my left. I think she's an Auror."

"Brilliant." His arm was tingling where Julia's hand rested upon it, and although common sense screamed that he ought to pull away, his heart would not let him. Her touch reawakened more than just memory.

Her fingers tightened around his. "Will you trust me, Sirius?" Julia asked quietly. "Just one more time, if I swear to you this isn't a trap? I know I have everything to explain, but I promise you there is a reason--"

"I trust you," Sirius cut her off. It was a risk, he knew, but he'd taken chances before. Still, he had to swallow back pain. "But I need answers," he whispered.

"Tell me where to go and you'll get them."

He almost asked, rather stupidly, if she meant that instant, but Sirius knew Julia. She wasn't one to procrastinate, especially when things were important. So his mind began whirling, considering and rejecting possibilities as fast as possible. "Do you remember that Muggle hotel we went to once, just outside of London?"

"I remember." A smile touched her eyes, and Sirius knew she was recalling the same things he was. But there was no time for reminiscing.

"Then let's go."

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

Colors swirled around Remus, whipping him into a spiral from which there was no escape. He was submerged in the Font, now, and had never felt such pure power. It was all around him, ancient and implacable; Remus could almost feel the Font speaking to him. But the words were like distant whispers that took place just outside his range of hearing, quiet and mysterious. Finally, they faded into the background, leaving Remus alone with the spiraling sea of color.

It seemed like forever passed within the variations of dark and light. Warmth encased him, and Remus felt his bones tingling as power worked its way through his body unchecked. Magical phenomenon were unpredictable, uncontrollable--yet here he was, deep in the center of one and allowing the Font to permeate his very being. The color changes increased in frequency, suddenly, flashing on and off as he spun like a child's top. Remus' mind was working at an incredibly slow pace, and while he knew that, there was still no stopping it. Panic tried to rise within him, but he pushed it down. Surely he hadn't been in the well for as long as it felt. Dumbledore had said that time would pass with unnatural slowness.

He could feel the power at work. While he had no idea what the Font was doing to him, Remus could feel it happening, and could feel his body responding. Something was changing; a chill ran down his spine despite the apparent warmth in the well. His limbs were shaking now, in a very slight and gentle way, but they still trembled with the effort of trying to adapt to...what?

Power, he knew. Power and awareness--suddenly, he could feel the castle, knew every corner and mystery of Hogwarts--but that awareness faded quickly, replaced by something older and greater. Images flashed before his eyes, containing faces of friends, allies, and enemies alike. Three faces figured predominately in the vision though, and those were of his closest friends. First James, then Sirius, and then Peter's features flashed through his mind's eye, and then Remus saw the four of them, standing side by side against a windswept background of a stormy sky...

Suddenly he was free and cold.

Remus lay on his back on hard stone, sputtering for air and staring up at Albus Dumbledore as soon as his eyes would function. He blinked once, struggling to focus on the blue eyes that looked down kindly at him, offering Remus his robes as soon as he was able to sit up. Belatedly, he realized he was shivering.

"What happened?" the headmaster managed to ask.

"The Font would not release you as quickly as I had hoped," Dumbledore replied quietly. "Five minutes passed before I was able to free you."

"Is that all?" Remus whispered incredulously.

Dumbledore reached down and helped him to his feet; Remus was still very shaky. "That is all."

Rubbing his arms seemed to bring some of the circulation back. "I feel cold."

"It will take you a moment to readjust," the other said in response.

"Oh."

A long moment passed in silence as Remus finished dressing himself. Finally, though, he was able to look at Dumbledore once more. "So what does this mean?" he asked. "You said the Font would not release me. Why not?"

"I wish I had the answers to your questions, Remus, but I do not," the old wizard replied quietly. "The only experience I have with the Font is my own. I suspect, simply, that the Font was not ready."

"Not ready?" Remus asked with a frown. "Why?"

"That, I do not know," Dumbledore said quietly. "And I suspect that the only one who ever will is you."

Remus nodded quietly, finally tearing his eyes away from Dumbledore and looking around the room. At first, the room beyond the Founders' Door seemed no different to him; clutter and decaying furniture still filled the chamber, strewn about haphazardly and without meaning. Slowly, though, his eyes began to pick up colors flickering in and out of focus, dancing in the walls and the doorway. When Remus finally turned to look back at the well, it was surrounded by rainbow of color that was virtually identical to the spiral he'd encountered within the Font. Those were the same colors drifted in and out of the walls and doorway, too, and he began to understand.

"Unbelievable," Remus whispered.

There was a whisper of power in his head, too, and Remus began to be aware for the first time in his life. Blinking, he realized that he could feel the structural integrity of the castle, could sense the wards protecting his students both inside and out. He could feel the walls, the rooms, the doors--the power was intoxicating, unbelievable. The grounds became an extension of his senses, and he could feel the darkness of the Forbidden Forest at their edge, alternately protecting and threatening Hogwarts. He could feel the presence of power in bright instances, centered on certain individuals who could outshine others--Dumbledore's hand gripped his arm.

"Breathe, Remus."

The unexpected contact snapped his connection with the castle, and Remus suddenly found himself light headed. He blinked rapidly, struggling for air and realizing that he'd been so caught up in his newfound abilities that he had concentrated on nothing else. The awareness, however, did not flee. It remained in the back of his consciousness, waiting and ever available.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Dumbledore chuckled without humor. "Come," he said softly. "Let's go to your office."

Remus existed in a daze as Dumbledore led him from the room. He watched with amazement as the old man sealed the Font once more, instinctively understanding the entire process. His eyes widened as they walked; with each step, Remus saw or felt something new in the castle. He could now see the union of stone and magic all around him, could sense the lines binding the two together and making Hogwarts ageless and strong. He could feel power shifting all around him, could feel the aliveness of the castle. As he and the former headmaster walked together, staircases and hidden pathways suddenly made themselves available; the entire castle was signaling, subtly, that it was at his disposal.

But even as he reveled in the newfound power and understanding, Remus recognized the danger of it.

"How do you live like this?" he asked.

"You become accustomed to the awareness after some time," Dumbledore replied. "It is not difficult to control, once you have adjusted, and the feelings become somewhat muted. They are always there, only in the background, waiting."

Remus blinked. "It must be hard for you to live away from Hogwarts."

"It is," the old man admitted. "But we all do what we must, Remus--just as I had to bring you to the Font. You will need this power, in times to come."

"A vision?" Even as he spoke the words, a feeling of foreboding snuck into Remus' gut.

Dumbledore nodded without replying aloud. The expression on his face was suddenly sad, and Remus had never seen him so withdrawn. However, he had a feeling that the former headmaster was not about to share whatever affected him so much, so Remus changed the subject.

"How much of this awareness will remain with me outside the castle?" he wondered.

"Some," Dumbledore replied after a moment. "You will find your natural powers augmented--but in what ways I cannot tell you. It is different for everyone. And you will sense more, if you learn to listen." He paused. "Few will understand your newfound abilities, Remus. You must be careful when you use them."

"You mean some will fear them, especially from a werewolf." Coldness seeped into his gut with his words.

"Yes. Oh, not your closest friends," Dumbledore smiled. "Peter is too trusting to doubt you, and James and Sirius are both heirs to very powerful lines themselves. Sirius, moreover, has been changed--I will venture to guess that he will understand this better than any other. But strangers will not understand, and you will frighten them if you are not careful."

"So, in other words, I ought to be careful what I do where others can see me," Remus replied.

"Quite. I have rarely shown power, save when directly confronted--I have always found that wisdom serves as a better guide than power, and that I can do more good through others than on my own." The other smiled. "But you must find your own path."

Remus' eyes were still adjusting to his new sight. Even the corridors seemed different now; they were richer in color and larger in scope. He could feel their connections, too, to the rest of the castle, and suddenly understood how every little piece fit together to make the whole. "I will," he said quietly.

"That," Dumbledore said with a smile as they reached his office, "I do not doubt."

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

Sirius stared out the window in silence. The sun was just beginning to fade behind gathering storm clouds, now; they had been talking for over an hour and trying to explain, trying to understand. Or rather, Sirius had been trying to understand.

His back was to Julia. It had to be as he tried to think about what she had to say without letting emotions get involved. If he looked at her, Sirius knew, his resolve would crack completely. How could something that felt so right be so wrong? How could one simple choice of his change everything? But it had been the right choice, he knew. Even with the consequences that becoming James and Lily's Secret Keeper had entailed, he had done the right thing. And like he had told James not too long before, he would do it again.

Still, though, that choice was making it very hard to go on with his life. It was already apparent that he couldn't simply pick up where he left off--too much had changed. Not only, though, had the world been transformed in the years he'd been absent--Sirius had, too, and he knew it. The only question was how much.

"So let me get this straight," he said quietly, still staring sightlessly out the window. The storm was coming on fast. "Voldemort sent you to spy on me and then hand me over when the time is right."

"Yes." He couldn't see her face--didn't want to see her face--but Julia's voice was tight.

Sirius took a deep breath. "But you're also spying for the Order."

"I am."

And only because I'm alive, Sirius thought painfully. He didn't know if he should be pleased or not by that fact; Julia had always been a fence sitter, with too much to risk choosing either side, but now she had. First, because of his supposed death, and now because he lived. Did he have a right to influence such a strong women in that way? Julia had always been ferociously independent; who was he to turn her world upside down? But he could not deny that it had been her choice to make.

Just as this choice was his. She'd placed it firmly in his hands and promised to abide by the outcome. She would walk away if he wanted her to...or stay if Sirius asked. But there was no choice, really, and he knew it. On one hand he could risk everything--yet on the other, he would hate himself forever. And Sirius couldn't deny one of the very things that made kept him alive in Azkaban.

In the end, the heart always won, even against his better judgment.

Still, though, he closed his eyes and whispered, almost against his will, "I wish things were simpler."

"Me, too," Julia responded quietly. "I wish I could make things easier for you, Sirius, but I can't walk away without knowing. I just can't."

"I know." Sirius opened his eyes and turned to face her, ignoring the storm at his back. "Neither can I."

Her gray eyes searched his face silently, looking for answers that Sirius didn't even know himself. Finally, Julia asked, "What now?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I'm sure of so very few things... Maybe time has changed us both too much, but then again..." He took a deep breath. "The only thing I'm certain of right now is that I still love you."

He held out his hands and she took them. Their gazes locked, and for Sirius, it was like going back a decade into the past, when the world had been simpler and everything had made so much more sense. Everything, it seemed, spiraled down into that one moment, and nothing else mattered.

Thunder crashed at his back as they kissed.

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

Author's Note: Next Chapter: research, review, and Duel of the canon Defense Against the Dark Arts professors....

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