In Flesh and Bone

Chapter Two: What Had to Be Done

     The five of them found themselves sitting in the living room of Grimmauld Place a week later, under the gaze of distinctly ruffled looking Albus Dumbledore. None of them had spoke about that evening, and in fact, had not seen each other after Voldemort was defeated some hours later in Godric's Hollow. Harry Potter was again a hero. Unconscious at the moment, but still alive, and expected to make a full, speedy recovery, lying in a bed in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Others were not so fortunate, and both sides suffered their loses.

    "However," Dumbledore said, continuing from his report of casualities, "if it weren't for you five and your information about Godric's Hollow, and where Voldemort would be striking, no doubt countless other lives would be lost." Despite his words, Dumbledore did not seem pleased. "How did you find out?" Predictably, no one spoke, but everyone looked to Moody.

    "We asked," Moody said shortly.

    Dumbledore pressed his lips together. "You had veritaserum?"

    There was a long pause. They had done torture in the heat of the moment, but lying, somehow, seemed like something else again. Snape lifted his head, gazing at Dumbledore with deep, empty eyes. "We had none."

    Dumbledore took a deep breath. "What did you do?"

    Moody reacted angrily. "What do you want, a list? We did what had to be done. We made sure that Potter wasn't sent alone into a trap." He looked around at the others, and saw a resolve in each face, a willingness to face the consequences of that dark night, and an unwavering conviction. "We did what had to be done," he repeated.

    Dumbledore frowned, surveying each person. Alastor Moody. No surprise. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry had ever seen. Severus Snape. He'd seen a lot in his time. Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was a trained Auror, and knew what had to be done. It was the last two that really unsettled Dumbledore. He looked from Arthur Weasley, face resolute, lined, looking very angry, and not avoiding his gaze at all, to Remus Lupin. The full moon would be coming soon, and he looked more tired than usual, arms crossed, and looking away. "Remus," he said quietly.

    Remus jumped, then looked uncomfortable at being addressed directly. "Yes?"

    Dumbledore frowned again. "Remus." Remus shook his head, took a deep breath, then turned away. "Severus?" Dumbledore tried a different tact.

    "We did what we had to do, Headmaster," Snape said, in much the same tone as Moody.

    Dumbledore looked as though the bright shining world he had built around him had collapsed. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Wands." He didn't want to know, or see, but had to, had to know the worst. One by one the men stood up and gave their wands to Dumbledore. The headmaster whispered "Priori Incantatem," avoiding the sight of the stoic faces as images of torture, of pain and death, rose from every wand except Arthur's. "Arthur?" he said, when the hideous show had stopped. "You - you can go if you wish."

    "Knife," Arthur said shortly. "We did what we had to." He didn't move.

    Dumbledore stared at Arthur for a minute. Arthur Weasley, slightly bumbling, always positive, a little strange, but generally good natured. He looked away. He'd seen Pettigrew, or what remained of him, after the fighting. A knife. Throughout his life, Dumbledore had thought he'd seen nearly everything, but nothing had prepared him for this. "Very well," he said, tucking all five wands into his robes. "The Ministry-"

    Moody stood, cutting Dumbledore off, saying, "The Ministry are fools. They're the ones who let Voldemort get so far. Without us, Potter would've been dead. On your suggestion," he said brutally, ignoring Dumbledore's reproving look. "Because of us, this entire fiasco is over."

    Kingsley stood, followed closely by Snape and Arthur. Remus, who looked rather ill, rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes a few times, then stood as well. Dumbledore looked at the resolute figures. "This is too much for me to decide. The Order will meet at Hogwarts in a week's time. We will vote. I will keep your wands."

    There was silence and, by common consent, the five men left the room. They were silent as they walked down the hall, silent as they strode into the kitchen. When Remus pulled down a bottle of Firewhiskey and five glasses, Arthur spoke. "Molly is in the Order. All my sons. Maybe, maybe Azkaban would be better. They shouldn't know."

    Moody looked at him darkly. "You're not the only one with a woman in the Order, Arthur. And I don't think they allow conjugal visits in Azkaban."

    Snape looked at Lupin. "Perhaps you can give me tips on being out of work, Lupin." His voice held none of its usual bite, however.

    Remus poured Snape a rather large glass and pushed it over to him. "Drink up."

    Snape raised his glass in a mock toast, then downed it in one shot. They continued like this for some time, none of them speaking, and soon, the near full bottle of Firewhiskey was empty. Remus extended them lodgings for the evening, as none of them would be able to floo or Apparate in their condition. Snape was the first to stand, a bit unsteadily, and leave the kitchen. Kingsley followed shortly after.

    "Get some rest this week," Moody said, standing. He looked between the two of them, then left.

    After some time, Remus broke the silence. "Do you think we'll be sent to Azkaban?" he asked, almost timidly.

    Arthur frowned, his head swimming. He took off his glasses and leaned forward, forehead almost on the tabletop. "I can't answer that," he said, his voice sounding very hollow.

    Remus tried to think, to use his mind. "I can hardly imagine that your family would vote to convict, not knowing what happened to Ginny. They comprise a fairly large fraction of the Order."

    "Percy," Arthur said. "And Ron will be sickened." He gave a bitter laugh. "I don't even know what Molly will do. Merlin, Remus, what else could we have done?" His tone was pleading. "You saw what he had done, how he laughed. He laughed, Remus!"

    "I remember," Remus said darkly. "Do you think - do you think the Dementors will be sent back to Azkaban? That we'll spend every day knowing only that..."

    Arthur closed his eyes. "I'm going to bed," he whispered. He stood up unsteadily, leaving Remus alone in the kitchen.

    Remus watched as the fire died out, slowly reducing itself to glowing red embers. He tried not to remember the fire that had started to consume Pettigrew that night. 'Avada Kedavra.' He'd used the killing curse. The worst out of the Unforgivables. How was it possible? He'd never done it before, never even considered using it or the other two, ever. His thoughts floated back to his old friends. James. Lily. Sirius. What would they have done in his position? The same? Shown Pettigrew mercy? His fist tightened around his empty glass, and tears filled his eyes. It was Pettigrew's fault they were all dead. The first people who'd ever shown him what friendship, what love, was like. Did Pettigrew deserve it? He stood, the kitchen almost pitch black, save for a single torch. With effort, he threw the glass into the cold fireplace, and turned to go upstairs. "Yes."