Chapter Text
Sirius Black sat on the floor of his Ministry cell, resting his back against the stone wall. He was an Auror, or had been, anyway. He knew how this was supposed to go.
And how it wasn’t.
With the rise of the Dark Lord, things in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had changed a great deal. There was less oversight, and more freedom for aurors to do as they needed to capture Death Eaters. Even the use of the Unforgivables was allowed, something that Sirius thought was going much too far.
But even then, each Death Eater got a trial. Sometimes a dozen a day, yes, and rushed, but they were still happening.
So why was he being sent to Azkaban already?
Sirius let his head drop back against the stone with a sigh, twisting his hands together, white-knuckled. He knew what it meant. The Ministry was so sure of his guilt, they were sending him away without a trial. Likely for life, if that was the case.
He had been to Azkaban before. Had spent enough time with the Dementors to know what he had to look forward to, and to know that it was better to die first.
But any thoughts of suicide were purely theoretical, he knew, even if he were seriously considering it. There were wards on the cells to warn the guards if any inmates attempted it.
He wouldn't even get as far as stripping his robes to make a noose before they caught him,
And how he wanted to die. James was dead. Lily was dead.
Why couldn't he join them?
Sirius let out an anguished sob, burying his face in his hands. All of his anger had drained away sometime after he had been captured, leaving him only with grief.
His brother in all but blood was dead, and here he was, guilty.
Not of betraying them, as the Aurors thought. He would have died in truth first, before doing such a thing.
But it had been his idea to make Peter the Secret Keeper.
His stupid idea.
It had seemed brilliant at the time. Genius. Everyone knew that Sirius and James were inseparable, that everyone would assume he was the one who held their wards anyway. So why not use it? A little misdirection. After all, Peter could be trusted as much as anyone.
He'd never thought that he would betray him. Plump, ever pleasing Peter, who worshiped the ground he, James, and Remus walked on.
Sirius gripped his hair, pulling tightly, almost punishing himself. He had thought that Remus was the traitor, that he had been influenced by the werewolf packs he was sent to infiltrate. It had seemed so reasonable at the time, that Moony should be vulnerable to that sort of thing. Peter had agreed. Of course he had - it made him seem all the more innocent.
And Sirius had fallen for it. Like the fool he was.
He and Remus had been dancing around each other for years. No doubt he'd ruined whatever they'd had, if he even ever saw him again.
Like as not, he'd die in Azkaban, forgotten.
His godson would never know who he was.
Oh, Merlin. Harry .
How could he have been so stupid? He'd had Harry in his arms, and he'd gone and given him to Hagrid? Damn Albus Dumbledore, and damn his orders.
Harry should be with him.
Merlin only knew where Dumbledore intended to stash him, now that he wasn't only James's son, heir to the Potter name. Sirius had heard the gossip. He knew that they were calling Harry the Boy-Who-Lived .
He didn't know if they were right, and Harry really had defeated the Dark Lord. He mostly didn't care.
He just wanted Harry to be safe.
But he couldn't do anything about it, not anymore.
Not since he had given Harry to Hagrid and rushed off like a fool for the sake of something so useless as revenge.
He still wanted to kill Peter.
But killing Peter wouldn't bring back Lily and James. It wouldn't give him his brother back. Wouldn't give Harry his parents back.
Now that his mind had cleared from the haze of grief and rage that had come over him, he understood that.
But it was far too late for his regrets. He was going to Azkaban for life, and he would never see Harry again.
"Wake up, Black!"
He jerked up, looking at the guards wildly. Surely it wasn't time to go to the prison now? He'd thought he had a few more hours as a sane man to reminisce.
"What is it?" he asked, peering up at the men through the darkness.
"You're being released," the guard said gruffly.
"Why?" Sirius asked, completely nonplussed. But a familiar voice echoed through the corridor, and with a sinking feeling, Sirius understood.
"You'd think you want to go to Azkaban! Be grateful, boy."
"Grandfather?" Sirius asked, gaping as he stood up. "What's going on?"
"I've spoken to Bartemius Crouch, not that he'll be in power much longer," Arcturus Black said with the sense of a cat who had gotten his cream, and a canary on top. "He's agreed to let you go, under my authority, until your trial."
"Er," Sirius said. He wasn't one to question fortune, not when it got him out of Azkaban, but this was strange. As far as he knew, his grandfather had retreated entirely from public life after the death of his wife, Melania. Not to mention Sirius had run away, rejected the Black family, and it had rejected him right back. "Thank you, I guess. But why?"
Arcturus sniffed haughtily.
"No son of the House of Black is going to be sent to Azkaban without a trial," he said. "Not while I'm alive."
"What about Bellatrix?" Sirius asked, warily. He'd heard that she had been shipped off just before him.
"Your cousin had her trial. She was... beyond any help I might have given her," Arcturus said, and there was a note of sorrow in his voice. "Now, come along. We have things we need to discuss."
Sirius staggered to his feet, and pushed past the guard blocking the way. He hadn't seen his grandfather in years, but something about being around the man made him straighten his back and his robes.
"Like what?" he asked, suspicious.
"That is not for prying ears, Sirius," Arcturus said, looking at Sirius with a disappointed expression. "You should know that. Come along. We'll head back to the Manor."
Black Manor was an unplottable mansion that had belonged to his family for generations. Unlike the townhouse in London, built to modernize the family name and be closer to the Ministry, the Manor was their ancestral home, where the head of their house lived.
Arcturus was supposed to give it up when he retired, to Sirius's father. But his grandfather had refused.
For the first time, Sirius cared enough to wonder why.
He followed his grandfather, too grateful to be leaving the Ministry to question the man further. If the price for getting out of Azkaban was that he had to listen to his grandfather's speech, he would gladly pay it. He would have preferred to go get Harry, but he doubted they would let his godson go with him while he awaited trial.
Maybe his grandfather would know where Harry was. Or could find out.
They reached that apparition point, and his grandfather took him sharply by the arm. Sirius would have preferred to apparate himself, but his wand had been confiscated. Standard procedure for criminals who might run.
It seemed even the Black name wouldn't help with that.
Not that Sirius had any intention of running, of course. Not without Harry, anyway.
Arcturus turned on his heel, and they disappeared from the Ministry with a pop .
They reappeared in the entrance of Black Manor, Sirius staggering slightly. He hated side-along apparition, but he wasn't about to insist they used the floo, either.
"Come along, boy," his grandfather said, briskly walking away as Sirius scrambled to keep up. "We have much to discuss."
Arcturus lead them to his office, where he shut the door firmly behind him.
"Sit," he barked, and Sirius sat, too exhausted and overwhelmed to do anything else.
Taking his own place behind his desk, Arcturus leaned back in his seat.
"How did you get yourself into this mess?" he asked. "I know perfectly well that you would never betray James Potter. You chose him over your own family, after all."
"That's not how it was," Sirius said sharply. "Mother was on track to kill me that summer. I ran to the Potters - to family . James' mother was a Black, if you'll remember."
Arcturus stared, apparently alarmed.
"What do you mean, Walburga was going to kill you? She told me-"
"Whatever my mother told you about why I left was obviously a lie," Sirius replied, suddenly exhausted. He slumped in his seat. "She used the cruciatus on me. That was the last straw. I didn't even pack a bag before I left Grimmauld Place."
"I see," his grandfather said, his voice far too calm. "It appears I underestimated Walburga, then."
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, wary of this new development. He'd been under the impression that his mother had permission from his grandfather to correct him, but maybe he shouldn't have believed her.
She had lied to him about other things, after all.
"Your mother," Arcturus sneered, "painted a different picture. The specifics are irrelevant," he said when Sirius opened his mouth to ask. "Suffice it to say, I have allowed Walburga far too much freedom in the way she raised you and your brother. Regulus' decision to join that madman was as foolish as your own choices, though I see you had your reasons."
"I thought you'd support You-Know-Who," Sirius said dryly. "Your politics certainly match up."
Arcturus gave him a dirty look.
"Perhaps that's true, in some ways," he said with a dignified manner. "It's Voldemort's methods I disagree with. Attacking muggles in the streets? It's foolish behavior that risks our exposure to them. I sometimes wonder..."
"What?"
"Your parents went to school with him, you know," Arcturus said. "Before he changed his name. I knew him when he was still Tom Riddle. A charismatic young man, with so many plans for the future. I remember looking forward to seeing what he would do in the Ministry. I wonder what changed him."
Sirius gave an uncomfortable shrug. As far as he was concerned, You-Know-Who was evil. His methods, his politics, all of it. The idea that he had once been just another Hogwarts student was almost unfathomable.
"Wait. Riddle ? That's no pureblood family that I've ever heard of. Is he foreign?"
"Halfblood," his grandfather replied, a grim look on his face. "I looked into him, once he started gaining power. His mother was descended from Salazar Slytherin, as he claims, but his father was as muggle as can be."
Sirius snorted.
"I can't imagine many of his followers know that," he said, shaking his head.
"Some must know. He went to school with them and their parents, after all," Arcturus said. "They wouldn't have kept it to themselves."
"Yes, but how many have connected Tom Riddle and the Dark Lord?" Sirius argued. "Even if they remember him going to school with him, he doesn't exactly look human anymore, does he?"
"I've heard the rumors. You've seen him?"
"About six months ago, at the battle in Diagon Alley. James and I... he was targeting the Potter's already, and he went after James. That's when he went into hiding like Lily and Harry."
"And what did he look like?" Arcturus seemed very interested, and Sirius was curious to know why.
"His skin was white, and he was bald. His eyes looked slit, like a snake, and his face was awful. All distorted, and unnatural."
His grandfather frowned, steepling his fingers.
"Sounds like the consequences of some very dark magic," he said. "The kind that's more than dark."
Sirius knew what his grandfather was talking about. There was dark magic, the kind he had learned at his mother's knee. And there was the kind of dark magic that was forbidden, the kind that no sane man touched.
Perhaps that was the point.
"Surely magic like that comes with a price higher than a loss of vanity?" Sirius asked quietly. "What else could he have paid?"
"His mind," Arcturus said.
"It doesn't matter now!" Sirius said, exploding out of his chair. "He's dead, isn't he? What matters is Harry."
"Harry Potter? What about him? I know James was your best friend, Sirius, but it's unlikely they'll grant custody, given, well, everything that's happened."
'He's my godson," Sirius said, turning back to his grandfather. "He's meant to go to me, if anything happened to James and Lily."
"I suppose that would change things. But it will have to wait until after your trial. I'll have my solicitor start preparing your case now, however. Best to be prepared."
"Right. When's the trial?" Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his temper under control. He wanted to get it over with, he wanted Harry to be safe and with him.
"In two days. You're forbidden from leaving Black Manor in that time. No-" Arcturus raised his hand, stalling Sirius's protests. "It's the only way I could convince them to let you out. If you leave, you risk your trial."
"Fine," Sirius said tightly, turning away. "I'm going to bed. It's been a long day. The guest quarters are still in the east wing?"
"Don't be ridiculous. You’ll stay in the family wing. Tippy!" Arcturus called out, and an elderly house elf appeared with a pop .
"What can Tippy be doing for Master Black?" he squeaked.
"Take Sirius to the Vermilion Room to stay. The color should be familiar, at least."
Sirius didn't dignify that with a response, and left his grandfather's office without another word.
The house elf escorted him into the west wing, to a large room decorated in shades of red and black.
"Can Tippy be getting anything else for Master Sirius?"
"No, Tippy, you may go," Sirius said, and waited for the house elf to disappear before collapsing on the unfamiliar bed with a sigh of relief. It had been days since he had slept on anything but a stone floor, and the plush mattress felt like a luxury.
One that he probably didn't deserve.
Sirius blinked back the tears that appeared out of nowhere, scrubbing his hands across his jaw, feeling the stubble of three days without shaving.
He wondered where Harry was.
Maybe he should write to Remus. And better yet, invite him to the manor. If Sirius couldn't check on Harry, maybe Remus could.
And it would give him the chance to apologize to the only friend he had left.
But he was tired today, and the owl could wait. Sirius crawled under the blankets, not bothering to close the curtains, and fell asleep almost immediately.
Sirius awoke feeling comfortable but confused. His bed in his small London flat was nowhere near this luxurious, and the Ministry cell certainly wasn’t.
Oh.
His grandfather had intervened. He remembered now. Old Arcturus had come out of retirement to see him get a trial.
He had been overwhelmed yesterday, sick with grief and fear, and though he knew enough of his grandfather to know that his actions weren’t out of charity alone, he hadn’t thought to question his motives. He had been too grateful that he wouldn’t be heading to Azkaban.
Now, however, Sirius had a night sleep free from fear, though not from grief, and his mind was clear. Arcturus was up to something, and he needed to find out what before he found himself used.
It had been years since Sirius had anything to do with his family, but he hadn’t forgotten how he had been taught to behave. He would need some of those lessons, now, if he were to find anything out. He couldn’t act like the Gryffindor he was. The sorting hat had considered Slytherin for him, and as distasteful as Sirius found it, he had to use some of those traits now.
For Harry’s sake.
He wouldn’t leave his godson to whatever family Dumbledore thought suitable. For it was Albus Dumbledore, no doubt, who had taken guardianship over Harry, and it was Albus Dumbledore who had left him to rot in a Ministry cell.
Because Dumbledore had known that Sirius wasn’t the Secret Keeper, and he hadn’t intervened.
Sirius didn’t know why, but he suspected. Control over the Potter heir and fortune would be tempting enough for anyone. Control over the Boy-Who-Lived on top of that, and it appeared even the great Albus Dumbledore couldn’t resist.
He didn’t know how Harry could have defeated You-Know-Who. Perhaps it was something that James and Lily did, some kind of ward or ritual. Or maybe it was some kind of magical fluke. It didn’t matter, not at the moment. Harry was probably the most famous wizard in Britain at the moment, and that kind of reputation didn’t go quietly away. You controlled it, or it controlled you.
Sirius didn’t want that for Harry.
But first, he had to deal with his grandfather and his trial. He was innocent, but he didn’t trust the process to be fair. Not anymore. His grandfather was his best chance, him and whatever influence remained to the Black family.
The idea was repulsive, but Sirius had little choice.
He sat up, running his fingers through his greasy hair. First, a shower and a letter to Moony. Then he would get to work.
He emerged from the guest room an hour later, feeling refreshed and ready to fight. In his hand he held an envelope, sealed with the Black crest. He had to wonder if Remus would even open the letter, with what he no doubt believed about him, but he had to try.
His grandfather was waiting for him in the dining hall, eating breakfast.
“Good,” he said, looking up at Sirius over his cup of tea. “You’re ready. Sit down and eat, and we’ll talk about our strategy.”
Sirius sat, knowing that he would think better with food in his stomach. Not a moment later, Tippy appeared with a full plate, and set it in front of him.
The food looked delicious, but all Sirius could think of was Lily trying to cook for them the day they moved into Godric’s Hollow. He almost pushed the plate away, but practicality won out, and he dug into the fried eggs, sausages, and toast.
“Who have you hired to represent me,” he asked, trying to take his mind off the memories.
“Leopold Eldridge. He’s not represented any Death Eaters or followers of Voldemort, so we have no precedent for the press to fuss about. And he believes you're innocent.”
“How did you manage that?”
“There’s something about being sent to Azkaban without a trial that sounds suspicious,” his grandfather said, sounding quite satisfied. “Mr. Eldridge was quite outraged on your behalf. Besides, he was a Gryffindor a few years older than you. He remembers you and your little group from Hogwarts, and doesn’t believe that you’d ever betray James Potter.”
“I see you’ve done your research, grandfather,” Sirius said dryly. He thought he remembered an older boy, though he knew him by the name of Leo back at school.
Arcturus shrugged elegantly.
“I needed to make sure we found someone who would fight for you,” he said, unapologetic. “That means someone who believes you.”
Sirius could certainly see his grandfather's point, and he agreed. A solicitor who believed him would be easier to work with. And the fact that the man hadn't represented any guilty parties would make him even more believable. What he hated was that all of this was necessary at all.
He nodded.
"Well, that takes care of that," he said. "Can Eldridge help with custody, as well?”
"I spoke to him last night after you went up to bed. He's agreed to take that on as well, and for no additional fee. It will be quite good publicity for him, I suspect, with this Boy-Who-Lived business."
Sirius grimaced. He wasn't sure he liked the new moniker that had been thrust upon his godson, nor the way people seemed to revere him. A life in the spotlight wasn't one he wanted for Harry. It had been bad enough for him, the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.
“Do you have any idea where he is?” Sirius asked. “I know he went to Dumbledore, but after that, I have no idea.”
Arcturus frowned.
“I was going to ask you that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not surprised Albus is sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. He’s head of that group you joined, isn’t he? The Phoenix Order?”
Sirius bit back the urge to correct him.
“Yeah,” he said tiredly. “Something like that, yeah. We all thought — well, it doesn’t matter now. We did our best to fight against You-Know-Who, and we always thought Dumbledore was the best way to do that. Now... now I’m not sure he was.”
“Because he left you to rot in a Ministry cell? Or because it took an infant to do what you were all aiming for?”
Sirius choked on his coffee.
Of all the things his grandfather could say, that was what he expected the least. Old Arcturus certainly had a way with words.
“I never did trust that old bastard. I know things about Albus Dumbledore that would shock you. There’s a reason no one in House Black trusted him.
Sirius shook his head. He didn’t care about Dumbledore at the moment, beyond the fact that he was an obstacle to Harry. He would have to deal with the fact that the man left him, as his grandfather said, to rot, but that could wait.
Everything but Harry could wait.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said forcefully. “We need to get the trial out of the way, and then get Harry. Merlin only knows where Dumbledore’s put him. Grandfather,” he said, looking Arcturus in the eye. “I need you to promise me that you’ll look after Harry, if I’m convicted.”
“Don’t be ridiculous —“
“I’m serious, grandfather! If they send me away, I need to know that Harry is being looked after.”
“...fine. If that's what it takes to put you at ease, I promise. He's Dorea's grandson, anyway."
Feeling like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, Sirius nodded. His faith in the justice of the Wizarding World had been shaken, and he had doubts that the trial would be anything but a farce.
"Well, that's out of the way," his grandfather commented lightly, taking a bite of his bacon, "we can move on. Your defense should be simple, as you are innocent, yes? No stray curses hitting innocent muggles?"
Instead of losing his temper at the suggestion, as he might have done if anyone else asked the question, Sirius simply shook his head.
"None," he said, with surety in his voice. "I dueled Pettigrew, " he spat, "but he's the one who blew up the street."
"And where did Mr. Pettigrew go?" his grandfather asked quietly. "I hear they found a piece of his body. A finger, if I recall correctly."
Sirius laughed, low and bitter.
"That bastard must have cut it off himself. I never knew Peter had it in him. Well, I suppose I'd best tell you — I'm an animagus. James, Peter, and I learned together, in fifth year."
His grandfather raised an elegant eyebrow.
"Indeed. Unregistered?"
"Of course. It was war, we couldn't give up that kind of information to the Ministry."
"A good defense, though I expect you'll be fined anyway."
"We can afford it."
"What animal can you transform into?" his grandfather asked, perhaps out of curiosity.
"A dog — James always said it looked like a Grim. Peter is a rat."
"A rat? Perfect for hiding in the sewers of London," his grandfather noted. "He'll be almost impossible to catch. I don't envy him, though. Live as a sewer rat is hardly better than Azkaban."
"It's not enough!" Sirius, always hot-tempered, slammed his fist on the table. "It's not enough," he continued more quietly. "He betrayed us all. He as good as killed James and Lily."
"It's what you're going to get, at least for now," his grandfather said, implacable. "You need to focus on your defense, not revenge. There will be plenty of time for that later. Did you forget about your godson so quickly?"
"No, no." Sirius muttered. "I just — I've never hated someone like I hate him. Not even You-Know-Who."
"He made it personal," Arcturus said wisely. "Finish your breakfast, and send your letter. Your werewolf friend can visit you, if it pleases you. Eldridge is coming at two o'clock precisely, so be ready."
Sirius looked a little startled, but shrugged, accepting his grandfather's all-knowing nature. No doubt the portraits — and the house elves — spied for him.
"All right," he said, drinking his coffee, unable to muster up any kind of reply. "I will."
His grandfather left the dining room, leaning heavily on his cane, and Sirius finished eating. The food in lockup hadn't been of the highest quality, when they bothered to feed him at all, and he was starving.
He thought about Harry. Where was his godson, anyway? Perhaps Albus had kept him himself? He snorted. The idea was preposterous, and not only because Dumbledore was far too busy to raise a child. No, he would never be that heavy-handed. Sirius might have trusted Dumbledore, once, but he had never been oblivious to the man's nature. He had simply thought that it was for the best.
No more.
Harry must have been placed with someone Dumbledore trusted. The Weasley's perhaps? Fabian and Gideon had been killed, and he had mourned, but their sister had a kid around Harry's age, if Sirius remembered correctly. It seemed the logical solution. Albus would want Harry to be surrounded by the right kind of influence.
What about Remus? He wondered if he believed that Sirius had betrayed James and Lily.
It wouldn't Sirius if he did. Things had been tense, these last few months of the war — and he could barely believe it was really over. Remus had been with the werewolves, first trying to convince them to join Dumbledore and later spying. And Sirius, to his everlasting shame, had doubted his friend.
It would be just if Remus doubted him, in return.
Finished with his meal, he headed into the library, and found parchment, quill, and ink.
Remus,
By now, I'm sure you've heard the news about James and Lily. And Harry.
I swear to you, Moony, on everything I hold dear, I didn't betray them. It was Peter. We decided to have a decoy. Everyone would assume I was the one James trusted the most, and target me, while Peter really kept their secret.
But he betrayed us all.
Merlin forgive me, but I left Harry with Hagrid and confronted Peter myself. He pretended innocence, blew up the street, and transformed, cutting off a finger to leave behind so that the Aurors would think he was dead.
I was arrested. I expect I would have been sent right to Azkaban, if Grandfather Arcturus hadn't intervened. He convinced old Crouch to let me go, for now.
I'm at Black Manor now, where I'm stuck until my trial. Grandfather has secured a lawyer for me.
We need to find Harry. Dumbledore has him, but I don't trust Albus any longer.
Please believe me, Remus.
You're welcome here. Please, visit me.
Sirius
Once the ink was dry, he folded the letter and took it up to the small owlery. There were two or three owls there, and he offered his letter to one, who hopped closer.
"Take this to Remus Lupin," he said, tying the letter to the owl's leg.
The owl hooted and took off into the sky, and Sirius watched it until it disappeared.
The news had come almost as a physical blow to Remus. He had been away, with a werewolf pack. Not Fenrir's — thank Merlin he wasn't the only Alpha wolf in Britain. Emma Pryce wasn't anywhere near as cruel as Fenrir, and a great deal more reasonable, but she had still joined the Dark Lord.
For all of Dumbledore's efforts, the Light's attitude towards creatures was abysmal. Some, like Emma's pack, saw You-Know-Who as their only option to live a free life.
He didn't agree. But he could understand.
Still, even in the middle of nowhere, the Daily Prophet came, and that was how he had learned the news.
YOU-KNOW-WHO DEAD! the headline screamed. Harry Potter — Boy-Who-Lived?
James and Lily were dead. Peter was dead, and Sirius had been arrested.
His family had been destroyed. Was this the cost of war? Of defeating You-Know-Who?
He had resigned himself to his new choice. Stay with the pack for good, or leave, and join muggle society. He knew that the Ministry wouldn't be kind to werewolves, not now after so many had joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It would be difficult to rejoin them, and dangerous.
Remus didn't expect the letter.
As soon as he saw the handwriting, he was tempted to burn it. He wasn't interested in a traitor's words — even if that traitor was Sirius Black.
In the end, though, the temptation was too strong. He had to know what Sirius had to say for himself, and how he had even sent the letter.
The idea that Peter was the secret keeper, at first, seemed like the desperate lie of a desperate man. But the more Remus thought about it, as he finished reading the letter, the more it made sense.
Peter would be the perfect decoy. It would be the perfect deception — that is, if Peter was a loyal friend.
But perhaps he wasn't.
Remus thought back to the tension, during those last few months, when he was with James or Peter or Sirius. It was all suspicion between them, as it was between everyone. No one knew who had been imperius'd, or who had joined You-Know-Who.
And it would be typical of Sirius, to go off half-cocked after Peter without thinking of the consequences.
What did surprise Remus, even more than Sirius supposed innocence, was the fact the Arcturus Black was involved. Remus didn't know much about the Black family except what Sirius had told him, and he knew even less about the intricate politics of the Wizengamot. But he did know that the patriarch of the Blacks had been out of the picture for years, mostly retired.
So why had he interfered now?
Remus was determined to find out. And the only way was to confront Sirius, at Black Manor. He would have his answers, one way or another.
He spent one last night with the pack. Emma was understanding, and with a hug, told Remus he was always welcome among them.
Remus had only meant to spy, to bring news to Dumbledore, but somehow, he had found another home with her pack. Something he'd thought was impossible, after his experiences with Fenrir.
He would miss them.
Still, he had a responsibility to James and Lily, to Harry, even to Sirius to find out what the truth was. So, with only a twinge of regret, Remus apparated away.
He appeared with a crack in front of a pair of wrought-iron gates, the words Toujours Pur proudly inscribed at the top. Always pure , the Black family motto. As Remus approached them, they slowly creaked open — as clear a welcome as he could get.
With trepidation, Remus entered the grounds, making his way along the stone path to the front door. He could hear the gates close behind him, and a shiver went up his spine.
If this was a trap, he had fallen for it.
But it was too late for doubts. Remus hesitated slightly, before knocking on the front door.
They opened after only a moment, a diminutive figure peering out to look at him.
"I'm here to see Sirius Black," Remus said.
"Oh! Tippy be hearing abouts your from Master Lord Black, yes she has. Master Lupin be coming this way."
Curious, Remus followed her into the manor house, wondering what he would find.
"Moony!"
The call came from up the top of an elaborate imperial staircase, where Sirius leaned against the balcony.
"Padfoot," Remus replied, still cautious. Still unsure.
"I swear," Sirius said, his arms spread as he descended the left staircase slowly. "I wasn't the secret keeper. James and I — we didn't trust you. We thought that you were spending to much time with people on You-Know-Who's side, and it was too dangerous. But I was the obvious choice — too obvious. So I thought Peter, and Peter —"
"Betrayed us all." Remus unconsciously echoed the letter. "I believe you."
And Remus found that he truly did. Maybe it was only because he couldn't fathom the thought of losing everyone, all in one night. Maybe it was because Sirius had always been his weak spot.
But mostly, he thought that if the Sirius Black, heir to House Black, had joined You-Know-Who, he would have heard about it. Peter, on the other hand, was a relative nobody. Pureblood, yes, but nowhere near as notorious.
No one would care that Peter joined the other side.
No one but them.
Sirius reached the bottom of the stairs, and stopped suddenly, looking at Remus.
"I'm so sorry we stopped trusting you," he whispered.
"I'm sorry I ever suspected you," Remus whispered in reply.
Slowly, he approached Sirius, before reaching out and pulling him into a tight hug. Sirius returned it immediately, his strong arms encircling Remus in a way that he hadn't realized he missed.
They stayed like that for a long moment.
"Well, isn't this a touching picture."
The cutting voice of Arcturus Black echoed in the entrance hall, and Sirius pulled back from the embrace, startled.
"Grandfather," he said, and Remus couldn't read his tone of voice. Was it almost respectful?
How odd. From what Sirius always said about his grandfather, he hated the man, and resented him for allowing his mother to treat him the way she had.
"Sirius, your lawyer is in my study," he said. "I'm paying by the hour, so get in there. Mr. Lupin, you're welcome to browse the library while we meet. Tippy will take you."
"All right." Remus glanced at Sirius, who nodded.
"I have to take this meeting," he said regretfully. "I'll come to find you as soon as I'm done."
"Wait," Remus said, mentally scolding himself for forgetting. "What about Harry?"
Sirius flashed him a familiar grin, one that Remus had often seen before a particularly spectacular prank, and he knew that Sirius had things well in hand.
"Don't worry. We'll find him, wherever Dumbledore has him. I'm not going to abandon him. Not again."