May 31, 1995

In the Pensieve, Harry looked around at where Mr. Crouch was presiding over the courtroom, addressing the haggard man chained to the chair in the center. Crouch had identified the man as Karkaroff and though he was younger here in the Pensieve, and with a wilder, more desperate look in his eye, there was no mistaking him for anyone but the Durmstrang headmaster.

"You say you have names for us?" Crouch demanded.

"I do," said Karkaroff breathlessly. "Important supporters – people I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely–"

"These names are?" said Mr. Crouch sharply.

Karkaroff drew a deep breath, and began rattling off a list of names, each one shot down by Crouch, whose patience was clearly wearing thinner and thinner with each name Karkaroff delivered. Antonin Dolohov, already apprehended for torturing Muggles; Evan Rosier, killed while trying to evade Ministry officials; Travers, guilty of murdering the McKinnons; Mulciber, specializing in the Imperius Curse – Karkaroff had given a handful of names, and was no closer to buying his own freedom, but when he offered up the name Rookwood, a ripple of discontented murmurs ran through the crowd, and Crouch narrowed his eyes doubtfully.

"Rookwood?" Crouch repeated, nodding to a nearby witch, who began scribbling down notes onto her parchment. "Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?"

"The very same!" said Karkaroff eagerly. "I believe he used a network of well-placed wizards, both inside the Ministry and out, to collect information–"

Crouch gave a dismissive wave, dispelling the rest of Karkaroff's sentence. "Very well, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide–"

Harry could see Karkaroff sweating the torchlight, his white skin paler than usual, contrasting strongly with the black of his hair and beard as he shouted, "Snape! Severus Snape!"

Harry was startled by the name, but Crouch dismissed it as Dumbledore stood at Harry's side, reassuring the onlookers that although yes, Severus Snape had been a Death Eater, he had abandoned the Dark Lord and instead turned spy for the light. Crouch waved a hand and a pair of wizards emerged from the crowd, presumably to escort Karkaroff from the courtroom and back to the dementors that Harry was sure were waiting just outside the courtroom.

"Wait!" Karkaroff shouted in one last desperate attempt. "Lovell! Father and son! They carried out Muggle tortures, and Aldrik – he would provide objects of Dark power to–"

"Kurt Lovell has also been cleared," said Crouch loudly, standing, waving the two wizards forward again. "And Aldrik Lovell has died in Azkaban, turned in by his son before Lord Voldemort lost power."

"I – I swear to you Kurt Lovell is a Death Eater!"

"Who returned to our side, and has proved himself quite loyal to our cause ever since, not unlike Severus Snape. Now–" The two wizards put their hands on Karkaroff's shoulders. "Your assistance in this matter is much appreciated. While your claims of Rookwood's involvement are verified, you will be returned to Azkaban…"

Mr. Crouch's voice and the murmurs of the crowd faded, and as Harry looked around him, the dungeon was dissolving as though it were made of smoke, everything was swirling into darkness – and then Harry's surroundings came back into focus, and he seemed to be standing in a small lobby outside the courtroom he had just been sitting in, though the voice that seemed to be calling order through the open doors was no longer Crouch's.

The lobby was sparsely furnished, just a few benches lining the walls, all of them empty except for the one on the farthest wall, where a blonde woman was sitting with two small children. A red-haired girl who looked like she could be about four years old was climbing into the woman's lap while a dark-haired boy who was perhaps a year older sat sullenly on the bench beside her, his knees pulled into his chest. Just as Harry was thinking there was something familiar about the boy, a voice to his right caught his attention, and he turned to see two men arguing nearby.

"She's innocent!" one of them was saying. "I'm telling you, Dumbledore, there's no way she could have–"

"There was an eyewitness," Dumbledore said gently. "These are dark times, and a firsthand account of such a tragedy–"

"Eyewitnesses are unreliable! Memories can be modified! There were two eyewitnesses to the Meadowes' murder that turned out to be false claims!" The man's voice was desperate. "Please, Dumbledore, you have to make them see reason–"

"That decision does not fall to me." Dumbledore gave the man in front of him an almost pitying look.

"You vouched for Snape! You spoke for him, defended him, why won't you–?"

"I spoke for Severus Snape because of circumstances that had arisen before the end of the war. I have no such evidence in this case." Behind them, through the open doors of the courtroom, the sound of a pounding gavel rose above the chatter of the crowd, and the conversation quieted as the court was called to order. "I'm sorry, Geoffrey. It's time," Dumbledore said quietly, and turned to make his way into the courtroom.

The man he'd been speaking to glanced over his shoulder at the blonde woman and the children, and Harry recognized him as Professor Mansfield, perhaps ten years younger. The blonde woman frowned at him, but Professor Mansfield was already turning away from her again to walk into the courtroom as a woman's voice drifted through the open doors, calling the court to order.

"Emilie Delacroix Mansfield," the woman's voice said. "You stand before us accused of the double murder of Fabian and Gideon Prewett..."

The world began to swirl out of form once more as Emilie Mansfield's defiant curses and shrieks echoed out into the hall.

June 30, 1995

It had taken longer than Mariah had expected to find a new home. Avoiding the wizarding neighborhoods, she had eventually found a house on a row of identical houses in a London suburb inhabited, to her knowledge, entirely by Muggles. The only distinguishing feature of the house was the last digit of its 4-figure door number, and in her mind this was perfect.

In the weeks following her resignation she had been put on temporary paid leave from St. Mungo's following a long discussion amongst the higher-ups. Though personal matters tended to be ignored for good employees at the hospital, the threat of an escaped Azkaban prisoner was much more than a blip on their radar. Two months with nothing to distract her from her troubles had led to many real estate open house visits… and lots of drinking.

But now she had a new home, and her kitchen was nearly organized. She had almost finished unpacking her potions ingredients into the cupboard above the sink when there was a knock at the door.

This was suspicious for a few reasons, not the least of which being that she had charmed her lawn to repel Muggle visitors, so as to avoid the usual welcome-to-the-neighborhood interrogations and ambrosia salad. Remembering the last time she'd had an unexpected visitor, Mariah approached the door with one hand holding her wand and flicked aside the peephole cover before opening it.

"Remus," she said, tugging the door ajar. The grey-haired man smiled.

"Oh good. I could make out the street name, but not the number – I've met nearly all of your neighbors by this point," he said, holding up a stained piece of paper.

"Where did you get my address?" she asked, frowning.

"St. Mungo's. Told them I was a tax agent," said Remus.

"You'd already have my address if you were a tax agent."

Remus shrugged. "A man came in with a mailbox eating his leg before they could ask me too many questions about it."

Mariah leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. "So…long time no see," she said. "I presume you're not here to pick up where we left off?"

"No, I'm not," he answered, sighing. "I think that… that part of our friendship is over. I think we can safely say that finding out you are currently married to my best friend counts as a conflict of interest."

Mariah laughed dryly, shaking her head. "So what then? Are you here to lecture me? Dish out an 'I told you so' or two?"

"You don't read the news much, do you?"

Mariah crossed her arms, frowning. "I've been generally avoiding it… for obvious reasons. Why?"

"Well, if you'd let us in, I could tell you why we're here," said Remus. Mariah's brow furrowed.

"Us?"

"Please," said Remus, a little more seriously.

Mariah stepped aside and pulled the door open. Remus stepped inside, but it was only once he had entered that Mariah noticed the large black dog following closely at his heels. She felt a shock down her spine, and closed the door numbly behind them.

"What, Sirius–?"

"Not here," said Remus, gesturing at the folded curtains on the table. Mariah had not gotten around to hanging them, yet, leaving the wide kitchen windows bare.

She led the way to her bedroom, past a few trunks that lined the small hallway. Her new home was not very large, and the living room was a mountain of boxes, so she did not even bother to find them a space in there. It was only after she had closed the door behind them in her dark bedroom that Remus spoke again.

"Listen, Geoff told us what really happened at the Yule Ball, so I'm not going to lecture you… but I am going to say 'I told you so.'"

"I knew it," groaned Mariah.

"I told you Kurt Lovell's always got something–"

"It wasn't even him, it was Evaleen!" snapped Mariah over Remus's diatribe, but he pressed on.

"–up his sleeve, but did you listen? No. And do you see what happened? You're always just running around doing whatever you please–"

"Oh come on, Remus!"

The dog barked once, and Mariah and Remus fell silent.

The werewolf ran a hand down his face, sighing deeply, looking, if possible, more tired than ever. "Voldemort is back," he said finally.

Mariah looked from Remus to Sirius the dog, and back, waiting for the punchline. "Voldemort is back where?" she asked, finally.

The last of Remus's energy seemed to have drained from him the moment the words left his mouth, and he looked at her bleakly. "He's back, Mariah. He's got his body back. In the Third Task–"

"No…" said Mariah quietly as cold dread slowly spread through her heart.

"–the Triwizard Cup was a portkey. And Harry–"

Mariah put her hands to her mouth.

"–and the Diggory boy were both transported to a graveyard where Peter and… and Voldemort were waiting. Peter killed Diggory, and took Harry's blood, and used it to get Voldemort his body back. He and Harry dueled–"

"He… you're not telling me Harry's dead–"

"Harry's alive," said Remus, dispelling the worst of her fears. "He was injured, but not badly. He brought Diggory's body back."

"But then–"

"It was Mad-Eye," said a gruff voice, and Mariah looked around to see Sirius sitting on the floor where the dog had been moments before. "Barty Crouch's son disguised as Mad-Eye Moody for the whole year, taking Polyjuice Potion."

"W-what?" Mariah's head was spinning. She couldn't remember sitting down on the bed, but she found herself on the edge of the mattress, one hand over her eyes as flashes of Moody from the past year flickered in her mind's eye. Moody in the Great Hall drinking from his flask. Moody at the Yule Ball, his magical eye fixating on her. "The whole time?" she said again, unable to process. "But I – I spoke to him… he said…" I like to keep an eye on people with history, Jaeger.

"I know this is a lot to take in," said Remus. "But we need your help. Dumbledore's assembled a resistance. The Daily Prophet broke the story of the Diggory boy's death, but Fudge doesn't believe Voldemort's really back. He believes the cock-and-bull stories Rita Skeeter has been publishing all year about Harry's mental state. But Dumbledore knows we can't wait for him. We're reaching out to everyone we can trust. We need to act now, before he regains the power, before things go back to the way they used to be."

Mariah looked up at Remus, who was looking back at her.

"You… you want my help?" she repeated slowly, glancing at Sirius.

"We need your help," he emphasized, but Mariah shook her head.

"I can't help with this…"

"Mariah…"

"No, Remus, you're right, this is a lot to take in. Voldemort's back? Are you fucking kidding me?" Her voice rose hysterically. "I thought he fucking died! I thought we were done with this!"

"Us, too," said Remus solemnly.

Mariah felt her eyes grow hot as tears threatened to spill over. "It was over! The war was over! He can't be back. What the fuck are Lily and James dead for then?" She was yelling now. "They died protecting Harry! Voldemort died trying to kill Harry! He was dead, that was the deal! He can't just come back!" She collapsed into tears, her face in her hands.

Remus put a hand on her shoulder, but glanced at Sirius. "I'm going to go make some tea," he said quietly. He dropped the hand from Mariah's shoulder, letting himself out of the bedroom, leaving Mariah and Sirius alone.

Mariah cried for a long time without looking up, but when she did finally, Sirius was no longer on the floor, instead pacing the room away from her. She vaguely recognized his robes as Remus's, though they hung loosely on his shrunken frame, and though his hair was not matted like it had been in the wanted posters, he looked shaggy and unkempt. But beneath his gaunt face she could see the familiar patterns of his energy. Her anger at the news she had just been told had not yet subsided, and came back in full force as she looked at him. Back in England was all he had said to her since their reunion, and she knew he had brought her the issue of Witch Weekly after the Ball. She knew only too well what he must be thinking.

"I suppose this is where your lecture starts, is it?" she said sharply. "Time to lay down thirteen years of passive aggression, well let's have it!"

Sirius turned around, his grey eyes fixed on hers.

"Let's not do this now. You're in shock," he said.

"Oh, what, so we can do it later in a three-word note when it suits you? Fuck you, Sirius!" Mariah wiped her eyes angrily. "Just say what you're going to say already."

Sirius turned away from her, resuming his pacing. Mariah laughed thickly.

"You don't even want to be here, I bet. You're just staying with Remus so you had to come along. I bet he told you we were sleeping together, too."

"He didn't have to, you were there every weekend," said Sirius, running a hand through his hair. "Stop trying to get a rise out of me, it won't work."

Mariah felt a pang, and her sick smile faded. "You didn't say anything. Back in England, that's all you said, for a year, but you were in Hogsmeade the entire time."

"Remus told Dumbledore you had been under a Ministry curse the previous year, and he thought it best not to tell you where I was," said Sirius. "But I decided to anyway, as much as I could."

Mariah didn't say anything. Sirius suddenly stopped his pacing.

"You want me to say what I'm going to say? Fine. How long?" he asked finally, looking around at her. "How long were you with him?" His calm expression scared Mariah, her previous furious energy suddenly missing.

"Remus?"

"Not Remus. You know who I mean," said Sirius.

"Nothing happened at Christmas, I told–"

"Before," said Sirius. His words sounded measured. "You were married."

"Two years," said Mariah quietly. "We were engaged, but never married."

Sirius nodded, crossing his arms. "I knew you were bound to move on, but I've got to say you really went for the kill," he said roughly.

Mariah felt another pang of guilt but it was flushed quickly with anger. "And what about it? As far as I knew you'd murdered twelve Muggles and killed three of our friends. Who else did I know?"

"Well, obviously Remus. Seems you know him quite well."

"Please," said Mariah sharply. "You know perfectly well that I hadn't spoken to Remus until last year for the exact same reason as you. I was thrown in Azkaban for two weeks because of you, and they wouldn't even tell me why. It wasn't until I was brought out for questioning that I heard…" She broke off, her voice strangely high pitched. When she looked up, Sirius's eyes were on hers.

"You were thrown in for two weeks? I was thrown in for twelve years!" shouted Sirius, his calm demeanor finally breaking. "Twelve fucking years, Mariah! I knew I was fucked, I knew no one believed I was innocent, but somewhere deep down I held out an insane hope that the one person who might believe me would be my own fucking wife. And I held onto that hope like it was the last thing I had, only to find out not one year after I was thrown inside you were back with that fucking Death Eater."

There was a ringing silence when he finished. Sirius was breathing heavily. Mariah was frozen, unable to look away from him. His eyes were wild, sunken like his posters, his skin stretched thin over his bones. Mariah felt the fear she had felt for so long of the man she had thought had been responsible for the deaths of her friends. But in moments that wild mask had melted and she saw herself staring into the eyes of her friend, sorrowful and pained. He turned and sat down hard on the edge of the bed with his back to Mariah.

"Why didn't you divorce me?" asked Sirius after a minute, his voice quiet once more.

"What?" said Mariah, her heart racing.

"I was thrown into prison, a man asked my wife to marry him and she said yes, and yet you and I are still married?" he said, his voice tinged with his old signature sarcasm. "Color me curious."

"I don't know," said Mariah numbly. "I suppose… I suppose it felt like all I had left of...of before."

Sirius did not reply. They sat in silence for a long time. Mariah stared at the floor. She felt deflated, as though the pressure of the pain of the past fifteen years had ebbed, leaving her empty. After a while she felt a hand on hers and looked around. Sirius was not facing her, but his fingers curled around her palm where it lay gripping the edge of the mattress. She adjusted her hand so her fingers covered his. They said nothing further.

"There's no way Remus is still making tea," said Sirius after a long while. Mariah felt a flicker of a smile die on her lips as soon as it appeared.

"I can't help you," she said, her voice breaking. "I would just fuck everything up. I can't."

"They need you," said Sirius. "Harry needs you."

"Harry hates me," said Mariah, feeling hollow. "Lily would hate me, too."

"You can't blame him for being angry," said Sirius sharply. "Mariah, he's been raised by people who think he's the scum of the Earth for 14 years when you could have stepped up and prevented it. I'm angry too, Merlin knows I'd have been there in an instant if I hadn't…" He broke off. "Listen, you may not have done the best for him so far, but the past doesn't matter anymore. He needs us now, Mariah. We made a vow to protect him."

Mariah closed her eyes, feeling tears escape from beneath her eyelashes, and put her hands over her face so that her fingers dug into her skull. All of the self-loathing she had worked hard to beat down over the years came bubbling to the surface, and she felt all the more ashamed at Sirius's words. The past may have been beyond saving but it mattered more than he knew.

"I fucked up, I fucked up," she said quietly, shaking her head.

"We all fucked up," said Sirius. "Come help us fix it."

Mariah felt the mattress shift, and a moment later Sirius's arms were around her. It felt like emerging into sunlight after years spent underground. She felt herself crying harder.

"We need your help," said Sirius, so softly that for a moment Mariah thought she had imagined his words. "I need your help, Mariah."

"I'm sorry," said Mariah. She reached her arms up, her fingers feeling his shoulder blades through his robes. He was so skinny, but his embrace was strong, and it tightened as she pulled him closer to her. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," she heard Sirius whisper back.

They held each other for a long time.

"Okay," said Mariah after a few minutes had passed. "I'll help you."

A/N: At long (long, long) last, this is the end of Bell, Book, and Candle! Thank you all so much for reading and keeping up with us all these years! Stay tuned for Volume 3 of the Bedknobs and Broomsticks series Hocus Pocus – coming soon!