The Gang of Four

Book One - Recalled to Life

Chapter 1 - The Prodigal Return

June 24^th, 1995 - Cemetery of Little Hangleton, England

Severus Snape Apparated next to a broken gravestone. He looked around fearfully, but there was no one to be found, only the ominous Dark Mark hanging high in the sky. Besides the broken gravestones, there was no sign anyone had been there. He walked around the graveyard until he came to the grave of Tom Riddle. There was still a bit of blood smeared on the stone.

With a swish of his wand, the Mark dissipated. He doubted any Muggle had seen it. It was a pity Fudge was not willing to listen. What more concrete proof of Voldemort's return was there than a dead body and a Dark Mark in the sky?

Snape grimaced. He had missed the call. If Voldemort thought him a traitor before, he was sure to be certain now.

He had a lot of connections to contact, and a lot of old supporters to seek out. Severus Snape could not be branded a traitor, not now. He would see to that.

June 24^th, 1995 - Sable House, Hogsmeade, Scotland

Remus Lupin sat in an armchair by the fire, reading. He was reminded of long ago, when the four of them would gather here to play Exploding Snap and argue over who was the best looking female at Hogwarts. That had been a long time ago.

The house, of course, was not his entirely. It was under Sirius's name, but after sentencing, Sirius gave him power of attorney, which rather surprised him. Crouch, in a fit that Voldemort's right hand man had left everything in the care of a werewolf, even opened Sirius's will, a rather morbid thing to do, and found that upon Sirius's death, Remus would inherit everything.

But the law was still the law. No matter how much Crouch could bend it, the contents of Sirius's will had been made public knowledge, and even Crouch could not openly break the law.

Remus had found the whole thing crazy. After their fight, he had thought that Sirius hated him. Sirius had wanted to be open with their feelings, but Remus, who knew persecution well, disagreed. And after James died, he believed the monstrous accusations. He believed his best friend, the man he knew better than anyone, was a murderer, and worse. So for thirteen years, he stayed far away from this place, this house they had inhabited together, pretending to be roommates when in fact they were much more...

And then, last year...

He remembered all too clearly in his mind. It was a full moon. Things always happened in full moons, somehow.

He had met Sirius again. And Peter. Peter, alive, not dead. Peter, the rat. Peter, the traitor.

Sirius was innocent, he always had been, and to Remus, that meant more than anything else in the world. He was not a foolish, naïve boy. He had not been manipulated, lied to, used. Whatever he had had with Sirius had been real, and that mattered much more than he was willing to admit.

And so after leaving Hogwarts, he returned to his old home, now comfortable with the idea. He was no longer inking out a living on the streets. He didn't ave much money, but he did have a nice place to stay.

He wondered how Harry was doing. He had heard the recent rumors, but was confidant that whatever had happened, Dumbledore would be able to take care of it.

As if on cue, he heard a scratching noise on the back door.

It had been a long time since he last heard that scratch, but its distinctiveness was imprinted into his brain.

He jumped up, and unlocked the back door, peering out into the darkness. "Padfoot?" He asked softly.

The black dog darted out of the shadows into the kitchen, shaking water from his fur. Had it been raining earlier?

Remus glanced outside, but saw no one, and quickly shut the door.

"Sirius! What are you doing here?"

The black dog had been replaced by a thin man with scraggly hair who looked much older than he was. "Looking for you, of course. Why else would I be here?" He cracked a smile.

Remus hugged him, nearly cracking a few ribs in the process.

"Whoa..." Sirius hugged him back. "I knew you missed me, but let me breathe a bit!"

Remus backed off. "What's going on, Sirius?"

"He's back. Voldemort's back."

At that moment, everything in the world seemed to spin around them, him and Sirius, standing in the middle of the kitchen, as his brain tried to comprehend what he had just heard.

Voldemort's back.

"How--? When--?" Remus stuttered, trying to ask too many questions at once. One question surfaced to his mind that seemed most important. "Where's Harry?"

"Safe, for now. The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey. Took Harry to the Riddle House. Wormtail was there. With Voldemort."

"Oh my..." Remus felt like he was about to throw up. "Is Harry alright?"

"Yeah, he escaped."

"How?"

"Priori Incantatem."

Remus blinked. "The Reverse Spell effect?"

"Apparently, Harry's wand and Voldemort's are brothers."

"WHAT?" Remus gasped. "But that's--that's impossible!" He paused. "Isn't it?"

Sirius shook his head. "Rare, but not impossible. Then he grabbed the Key and was Ported back to Hogwarts." He yawned, interrupting his explanation.

"Oh, you must be beat. You can tell me the rest in the morning." Remus blushed. How could he have not noticed how late it was? Sirius must have been traveling all night from Hogwarts. Without his Apparation license or a wand, he had to have traveled without magic.

Then another thought hit him. "Sirius...the guestroom's not--" he hesitated, "I'll sleep on the couch." He was blushing again, and the thought that he was blushing in front of Sirius like a 3^rd year embarrassed him even more.

Sirius blinked, then turned slightly red as he too realized their situation.

"I've been sleeping the bedroom," Remus explained rather hurriedly, "I didn't think you'd be able to come back until after..."

"It's okay. I mean...You don't have to sleep downstairs. We're both adults, we..." He stopped.

Sirius hesitantly leaned over and kissed Remus softly.

Remus started to respond before he stopped himself and pulled back.

He felt his throat tighten. "It's been thirteen years, Sirius."

Sirius turned suddenly. "You haven't--Met someone else?--Oh, I should have known... After so long, of course you would have moved on..."

"No, Sirius, it's not like that. I haven't dated anyone. Well, not guys. I tried dating this girl once, but I couldn't--I didn't want that."

Sirius stared at some invisible spot on the floor. "I used to think, when I was in my cell and the Dementors would walk past, that you were still out there. That Harry would be okay with you, that someday, you would prove me innocent and it'd all be happily ever after. And then I couldn't hold onto the happy thoughts, and I feared you were with someone else, someone who made you happier than you ever could be with me."

"Oh, Sirius... I--" he didn't know how to say it. He couldn't. He-- "I love you. And I didn't stop. I used to hate myself because I loved you, and there seemed no rational reason for me to keep doing so. But... You were still everything to me."

Sirius looked up. "Has anything changed?"

"Everything changes. Including us. But...that doesn't mean I'm not willing to give it another shot, to try to live the way we lived thirteen years ago. It won't be easy, and it'll be hard, and we might not make it, but--"

Some inexplicable force pulled him towards Sirius. Their lips met, and suddenly, things weren't so different from thirteen years ago.

When the kiss ended, Sirius took Remus's hand. "I suppose we should go to sleep now."

Remus nodded. "But no...you know. Not yet." He gripped Sirius's hand. "It hurt when they took you, and now...this is going to take some time."

Sirius half-laughed, half-smiled. "Yes, it will. But tonight, I'm just glad to know you're there."

Remus turned off the lights with a flick of his wand. The next day, they would contact the other members of the old team, but for that one night, thirteen years would be only a hazy past.

When Remus woke, the first thing he noticed was Sirius's arm wrapped around his waist. It took him a moment to remember that, no, they weren't seventh years at Hogwarts, and no, Peter was not about to catch them in bed together.

Remus slowly extracted himself from the embrace as not to wake Sirius up and headed for the bathroom. He spent a lot of time in the shower, trying to figure out what was going on.

Only days ago, he was sure that his relationship with Sirius was over, that it ended with James and Lily's deaths and Sirius's subsequent incarceration.

Only now...

He wasn't quite so sure anymore. In fact, he was far more certain that their love hadn't ended at all during those thirteen years, and that it was very much alive, and this certainly surprised him.

That was a strange thought. He hadn't ever really thought about what he would do if Sirius came back and they could go on with their lives. Oh sure, he had daydreamed about a fairy-tale rescue and a life happily ever after, but fairy-tales were, after all, only fairy-tales. Besides, fairies couldn't even talk, much less tell stories.

Before Sirius escaped, he had avoided the subject of Sirius altogether, despite his brain's protests. And each time he lost control of his thoughts, they jumped to the night James and Lily died, and to the fight he and Sirius had only hours before. They had been arguing about the thing they always argued about, almost the only thing they argued about. Or maybe it was just that every other petty disagreement was trivial in comparison.

They fought about their love.

It was quite a simple matter, when you didn't throw in society and stereotypes and old fears and the increasingly complicated world. They were gay. They both admitted that, but no one, besides James, and possibly Lily, knew it. Remus doubted even Dumbledore knew. Sirius was sick of the secrecy, and wanted to be open about their relationship. Remus hated the idea. People already feared and hated him because he was a werewolf. He didn't want to add fuel to the fire. The Ministry didn't look kindly on homosexuals. Though there were no outright anti-gay laws, the lawbooks still defined marriage as one between two people of the opposite sex. They could not have children biologically, and were barred from adopting. Society was worse, believing homosexuality a Muggle affliction that had crept in with 'bad blood'. It was all absurd, but that was the way the world was.

True, some people accepted it, and some European Ministries even allowed them to marry, but the world was hard enough without make it harder for yourself.

And on that Halloween night, they had their biggest fight yet. The arguments were the same, the yelling and screaming.

And then Sirius walked out.

He kicked a table over and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

And the next time Remus heard from him, he was in Azkaban for the betrayal of Lily and James Potter and for the murder of twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew.

And for thirteen years, Remus' greatest fear was that he had, somehow, some way, driven the love of his life to murder.

When he got out of the shower, Sirius was already up and had finished dressing. Remus lent Sirius his wand so Sirius could shave.

Neither said anything.

They had toast, eggs, and coffee for breakfast. Sirius commented on Remus's improvement in cooking ability; Remus talked about the weather, and if it would rain that afternoon. It was all quite pointless, but talk about anything else was too hard.

Sirius mentioned Flooing to Arie's, but Remus dismissed that. There was always the risk they'd Floo to the wrong fireplace and the Ministry kept records of all Floo usage. It would be much safer to have Arabella come to them. It was easier to think about Arabella and Harry and the coming war, where good and bad were easily distinguishable and he didn't feel every emotion possible at the same time.

How quickly and readily he and Sirius had returned to living together surprised Remus. It even scared him a little. It scared him more that it wouldn't last.

To keep him from thinking about that, Remus busied himself with looking through his old address books. He understood why Sirius was here. Dumbledore must have sent him. Otherwise, he wouldn't risk both their lives by returning to England. And the only reason Dumbledore would send Sirius here would be if he wanted to reunite the Hall.

And the first person on the list was Arabella Figg.

After breakfast, he called her up on the Mirror.

She answered absentmindedly, her head bowed, looking at something her hand. "Arabella here." She stopped and looked up at him suddenly. "Oh! Remus!"

She put down whatever it was she had in her hand (It looked like flaxweed) and smiled widely at him through the flames. For a moment, Remus was reminded of Arabella's wedding, for which he had, for reasons unknown, received an invitation, but never attended. In recent years, however, through her association with Harry, he had gotten to know her better and found her to be a sharp-tongued but fun-loving witch. At the present moment, her hair was piled up high on her head in a messy but sophisticated bun (the style of the time), much like the smiling photos of her taken at the extravagant affair. Her dress, however, was nothing like her wedding robes. Although Arabella was one of the most beautiful witches he knew, the pea-green dress with dirty lace sleeves and collar even managed to make her look frumpy. However, she seemed to pay no attention to her costume.

"I'm sorry I'm not quite presentable, Remus." She grinned and bit her lip. "I'm making my next batch of Aging Potion. So, what was so urgent you couldn't owl?" she asked teasingly. Then she looked over his shoulder and saw Sirius standing there. "Oh... Sirius." Her entire demeanor changed at that last word. She was no longer smiling, her cheeks several shades lighter. She had the look of one who had seen a ghost. "What--" she stopped. "Hello."

Sirius sat down next to Remus and fidgeting, uttered, "hello, Arabella."

Remus thought Arabella looked rather tearful, but perhaps it was a trick of the flames. He had never seen her cry.

"How are you, Sirius?"

"I'm fine." He gave her the briefest of smiles, but she seemed to accept this.

"So, why did you Mirror me?" Arabella asked, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

"Arie..." Remus hesitated. He hoped she was sitting down. "Voldemort has returned."

July 4, 1995 - Que Er Mountain, Szechuan, China

(Sparrow Mountain of the Si Chuan Province, Western Middle Kingdom)

The messenger stood silently, waiting to see if the woman had a response to the message.

The woman seemed to have forgotten he was there. She read and reread the letter, holding it so tightly that her fingers left deep creases in the parchment.

"I must go back..."

"Miss?" The messenger wondered if this was her response.

She looked around at him. "No response. Thank you." She paid him with a silver coin and he left, happy with his payment.

The woman raised her arms and the winds swirled around her, lifting her into the air. Then, quick as an arrow, she sped for the convent.

Once there, she packed quickly. She had few belonging here as most of her possessions were locked in a vault in England.

She would be traveling a great deal over the next few days.

But first, she had an old friend to see.

July 8, 1995 - Office of the Governor, Hong Kong, China

Mr. Lu Yong was a very content man. Over the years, he climbed the political ranks to become the governor of Guangdong, which of course, included the international city of finance: Hong Kong. Mr. Lu didn't care much for the polluted and overcrowded Muggle Hong Kong, but even he would admit that the money pouring into the city helped wizarding Hong Kong become a gem of the world. And as he had played a large part in this growth when he had been mayor of the city, he had quite a lot to be proud about.

Mr. Lu was happily married to his wife of 40 years, had raised two children (who both made very large amounts of money, as he was always sure to mention) and was at the point in his career when he could easily stay on as governor for several more terms and then retire very comfortably.

So when a woman he had not seen in fifteen years showed up at his office, he was harshly reminded that life was never as simple as he had imagined.

"You must have heard the news." She didn't say hello.

"What news?" Mr. Lu asked, startled.

"Voldemort's back." Two words. Simple, really. Quite a clear message. But the layers of connotations and fears and hatreds made those two words the most powerful in the world.

"I wish you wouldn't say that name." Just hearing it made him cringe.

She ignored his comment. "I need papers."

"Papers?"

"I need to go to England without anyone knowing I'm there. I need new identity papers." She looked at him expectantly.

"From me?"

"You smuggled me in, you can smuggle me out."

"How?" Mr. Lu asked, flabbergasted.

"You're the governor. I'm sure you have a way."

He started at her. "It's highly illegal and improper, not to mention unethical!"

"So will you do it?"

Mr. Lu finally smiled, remembering the little girl he used to know. "Of course. For you, anything."

The next day, the woman known as Jing Long (at least, according to her citizenship papers and passport) walked into Gringotts (Hong Kong branch), opened an account, and transferred 50,000 galleons into it. She then promptly withdrew 200 ingots and went shopping.

The first thing she bought was a wand. Thirty-one centimeters, bamboo and phoenix feather. The she bought a set of suitcases and a dozen outfits. At her last stop, she bought a Portkey ticket to England.

July 13, 1995 - Hong Kong Port Centre, International Terminal

When she stepped onto the Porting platform, it was as if stepping back in time. How many times had she watched as a dozen witches and wizards shimmered away, leaving only the fixed Key hovering, (rotating slightly, always counterclockwise), over the platform? How many times had she grasped the Key with one hand and her father's hand with the other? How many times...?

She felt the familiar tug at her navel, though not as strong as she remembered. The wind swept at her hair and tousled her robes. As the swirling maze of colors faded, Jing looked upon a sight she had not seen in fifteen years: London Heathrow Port Center's main terminal. Several other witches and wizards on the ride had fallen with the turbulence, but Jing had barely noticed it. She had long ago grown accustomed to far rougher Porting.

Jing picked up her bags and headed for the Local Departures terminal. While British Port Centers were all connected to the Floo Network, Heathrow was the busiest in the world and available fireplaces were always very crowded. On the other hand, if one was willing to pay, Porting straight to Diagon Alley was always quick and convenient.

She arrived in the center of Merlin Square at the north end of the Alley and walked the block to Gringotts.

A goblin bowed and opened the door. The inside of Gringotts looked exactly as it did when she was five years old. The same ornate decoration, the same antiquated feel. The goblin at the counter looked shrewdly at her. "And how may I help you, Miss?"

"The name is Jing Long. I have a letter here." Jing pulled the letter and a tiny gold key from her pocket. "And I'd like to open this vault."

The goblin took both items from her. First he read the letter, then examined the key, all the while muttering to himself and glancing at her. "I see. Will there be anything else, Miss...Jing?"

"No."

"Very well then. Griphook!"

At the call, another, slightly taller goblin appeared next to her.

"Take Miss Jing here down to her vault." The goblin handed the key back to Jing. "And a good day to you, Miss Jing."

At the entrance to the underground vaults, Jing waited and watched as a cart rumbled up to them. A man of about thirty in dusty navy robes hopped out of the cart, carrying a small package wrapped brown cloth.

"Hey, there, Griphook. Milady." He smiled and winked at her. Griphook responded to his pat on the shoulder with a grunt.

Jing watched the man stroll away, her interest piqued. "Who was that man?" she asked her goblin companion.

He waved a hand in distaste. "One of our curse-breakers, William Weasley. Thinks he's the best thing since self-stirring cauldrons just because he can wave a wand around and disarm wards." He grunted again. "I can do that too."

"I see," Jing murmured as he disappeared from her view. "Bill Weasley." She stepped into the cart. As Griphook directed the cart down to the inner sanctums of Gringotts, she couldn't help but smile to herself. Fourteen years had apparently made all the difference. He had not recognized her at all.

Once inside the vault, Jing made straight for the large teakwood desk with the rolling cover at the far end. There were many things in that room that she valued, many things that brought back the sight and sounds and smells of the past, but now was not the time for them.

When she was a very little girl, her father had taught her to open this desk. She pressed her forefinger and middle finger of each hand into two small indentations on the surface and whispered "Quidquid latine dictum sit altum viditur."

The lock sprang open.

Papers, quills, and inkbottles littered the surface. The desk had been enchanted with a fireproofing charm, and thus, it and all its contents were perfectly preserved. One late night her father had left his desk with his work strewn across, never to return again. Nothing had been touched since fire; she had never been able to bring herself to examine its contents until now. Now, there was something she needed to find.

There were pages after pages of notes, lists of names, dates, places. Maps of towns, Diagon Alley, Ministry Headquarters, and Muggle London. Even a picture of the three of them at the lake in front to Hogwarts, waving and smiling.

The item she was looking for was a simple blank piece of parchment. Or rather, one that when held up to the light showed a distinctive watermark of a balanced scaled in the lower right corner. Jing found it under a pile of other papers, buried beneath now-useless paperwork. She spread it out across the now-cleared surface of the desk and tapped it with her wand three times. "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate." As she spoke the words an invisible hand drew out the intricate lines, text, and figures across the parchment.

Jing looked down at the map before her. There were only three copies in existence: One in the Ministry archives, one at MLED headquarters, and this one. This one, that had been supposedly destroyed in the fire... There were only supposed to be two. After all, it was dangerous to have too many copies of such a document lying around. If one fell into the wrong hands...

Jing smiled to herself as she found the name she was looking for. Dumbledore was expecting her, but that could wait. She had to see about an old friend, one she had not seen in fifteen years. First she would have to pay a visit to the place known as Wizarding Hell: Azkaban.