AN: Hello, all! Sorry that this took a little longer than expected. But thank you to everyone who has followed this story!
I'm gonna be quite honest here, and say that I really have no idea where I'm going with this. It was intended to be a one-chapter story about Sirius finding the Potters, but then this chapter happened, so I guess I'm just kinda going with whatever comes out. What would you all like to see happen with this? Please let me know, because I need ideas! XD
Also- I need a new name for this story; I've decided that "Promises" will just be the name of the first chapter, so I need something else for the whole thing. I've got a few ideas, but what do you all think?
Anyway, this chapter is from Remus's point of view. I hope I kept him relatively in character (I'm an avid Remus fan xD).
Enjoy!
~Bailey(:
~oOo~
Unfinished Words
Remus Lupin was pacing the short length of his small, shabby two-room flat in a fit of restless and boredom-induced agitation. He couldn't sleep, and the musty, well-worn collection of books he owned had been poured over so many times in the past few weeks that they seemed to have lost their ability to distract him from moods like this one. So he'd taken to moving around his tiny flat, obsessively examining every inch of the place- the small bathroom, the bed that occupied much of the left side of the main (yet still very cramped) living space, the wardrobe, the shelves overflowing with his currently-useless book collection, the pattern of the faded, old-fashioned wallpaper. This activity, however, did not seem to succeed in holding his attention for long when put to use in a small and scarcely-furnished flat, and so Remus was currently attempting to walk off the insomnia that his lycanthropy often plagued him with.
Finally, he planted his feet in front of the solitary window on the far wall, and gazed with a frustrated sigh into the night sky. The moon was nearly full, a bright white orb with a thin sliver yet to appear on one edge. He never could sleep this close to the full moon, his body riddled with aches and pains, a fact that did nothing at all to improve his mood.
Remus had been on his own for nearly two months. He got regular updates, from James, Lily, Sirius and Peter, mostly, but he'd still barely seen them in the time since Lily and James had gone into hiding. In fact, it had been nearly two weeks since he'd actually spoken a word to another person. Dumbledore had deemed it safe for the group to communicate by owl, as long as they didn't send them too frequently, and wrote in code words. And relieving though it was to read in his friends' writing firsthand that they were fine, Remus missed being able to speak to them, to have them around. Loneliness was something he was far too familiar with due to his condition, and the current situation of tense waiting they had all abruptly been thrust into made it ten times worse.
What he wouldn't give for one of those owls right now- Peter hadn't written in over a week, a fact that Sirius had commented on in his last letter. He was usually better at checking in than he had been as of late. From what he read in Sirius's letters, Remus was hoping that Sirius wouldn't act recklessly, though that seemed exactly the sort of thing he'd do if they didn't hear some sort of information soon. Not that Sirius's letters said much- never more than half a roll of parchment, the sentences were devoid of emotion, the paragraphs short.
Remus felt anger and sadness alike welling up inside him at the thought. Unwillingly, still gazing at the moon, he remembered the last time he had seen Sirius. It hadn't ended well.
~
"Would you like some tea?"
Remus made an attempt at breaking the awkward silence as Sirius continued throwing belongings into a bag, not making eye contact, not speaking at all. He had been living with Remus for the past few weeks since they had both admitted to not really wanting to stay alone. But now that James and Lily were being forced into hiding, Sirius had thought it best to relocate to another safe house, closer to Peter's, for some reason Remus didn't understand. Even though Sirius was now Secret Keeper, Remus didn't frankly think he'd be any safer in the middle of nowhere than in the center of London. But although Remus had shown his confusion at the idea, he hadn't really protested. For recently, his best friend had seemed… distant. Sirius had barely spoken to him in the past week, and when he did, his tone was clipped and irritated, and he never looked at him. Remus even thought he'd caught a snide remark or two directed at him during conversation with others. At first he'd wondered if maybe they'd just been seeing too much of each other, living together and all, but they'd shared a dormitory at Hogwarts for seven years; that didn't seem to be the problem. Maybe he was just imagining the whole thing. But Sirius kept packing without answering, throwing things in his bag a little more furiously, as though the mere sound of Remus's voice grated on his nerves, and Remus knew that this wasn't true. He took another try. "I spoke to Dumbledore yesterday," he said. Sirius merely grunted in response and continued his violent packing, but Remus knew he was listening; a conversation with Dumbledore didn't happen extremely often these days, and Sirius would want to know what was said, no matter how indifferent he tried to sound. Remus continued. "According to him… Voldemort's been- 'well-prepared'… 'too prepared to warrant the circumstances' he says." This time there was a definite increase in the speed of Sirius's packing; he was violently stuffing clothes to the very bottom of the bag, and seemed to want to leave as soon as possible. He couldn't take it anymore. "Sirius, what is it?" he said.
Sirius froze his movements. His eyes squeezed shut. He didn't seem about to respond, but Remus didn't give him the chance to anyway- he'd had enough of this, he needed to understand, so he plowed on. "I don't understand what I'm suppose to have done. What have I done to make you so angry? Whatever it is- whatever it is, I'm sorry, okay? But I'd like to know what I'm apologizing for." He let a small amount of emotion escape in his voice- trying to voice the hurt he didn't want to acknowledge, trying to say what he wanted to say without the words: that he couldn't stand the idea of losing Sirius in the midst of this mess, and that he was afraid this was exactly what was happening, and that he didn't know why. Sirius had stayed completely still throughout this, and still didn't move for a moment. But when Remus didn't say anything else, he opened his eyes again and continued working as though nothing had happened. Remus let out a frustrated sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood there for a moment, confusion and hurt pulsing through him in equal amounts. After deciding that interrogation wasn't going to work, he gave up and followed Sirius's example, continuing to speak as though he'd never stopped.
"Anyway… he reckons- Dumbledore reckons… he reckons we've got a spy-" "Well, you'd know," Sirius burst out savagely, rising suddenly from his crouch on the floor and sweeping furiously past Remus to the wardrobe, pulling more clothes from its depths. Remus stood frozen, unsure how to respond. "What the hell is And then it hit. Remus took a few unsteady steps back, the realization slamming into him with such force he felt physically unstable. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, the shock robbing him of speech. "You- you think that I…?" Remus couldn't choke out anymore. Sirius had stopped any pretense of being busy, and stood with his hands on the edge of the wardrobe, hunched over, his back to Remus. Hurt- enormous hurt- was making itself known inside Remus's head, inside his very heart, because this couldn't be it. This- But he heard it, resonating in his skull- WellyoudknowWellyoudknowWellyoudknow… over and over again, and with the truth of those words, the painful truth that Sirius now thought that lowly of him, came another emotion: rage. Pure anger, beginning low in his stomach, rising and rising the longer the silence stretched on, and yet Remus just stood and stared. He was shaking.
Sirius still wasn't moving.
"How- how dare you," he croaked lowly. His words seemed to shock the life back into Sirius's frozen form. He continued to yank shirts and trousers from the wardrobe, folding them unevenly, and the sight only angered Remus more. "Is that it then?" Remus shouted at Sirius's back in his disbelieving fury. "Is that what this war has done to us? What it's turned you into? Because let me tell you, Sirius, if we start this amongst ourselves, we don't stand a chance in hell of surviving!" Though he knew this to be completely true, his own words sounded dull to his ears. He couldn't conjure the right ones to even begin to express the things he wanted to say, the things he was feeling. But Sirius seemed to have been pushed past any kind of resolve. The Animagus gathered the clothes in his arms and whipped around furiously. He crossed the tiny room until barely a foot of space remained between them.
"That's exactly the kind of manipulating bullshit I'd expect to hear from a-" Sirius stopped. He looked almost hesitant, but furious still. Remus's tense stance went slack. His eyes widened, bored into Sirius's grey ones, searching for the truth in the words about to pass his lips. He knew what was coming, but it hurt so much, brought his worst childhood fear to life, emanated so much sadness and anger and betrayal that he could hardly bear to stand there and take it. But it was coming. So let it come. "…From a Sirius seemed to steel his nerve. He looked unsteady at Remus's blank, expectant face, but determined all the same. He looked Remus directly in the eye. "From a werewolf," he said blatantly, not a trace of a tremor in his voice. And he brushed past Remus without another word. Remus didn't turn. There was a loud ringing in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears threatening to escape. No. He wouldn't let Sirius see him break down. At the sounds of Sirius fastening the rucksack shut, Remus felt a strong, hot, poisonous wave of hatred for the man behind him. He felt reckless. He wanted to hurt Sirius. He wanted him to feel the pain that he was feeling. He mustered as much of a scorching tone as he could in his disoriented state. "How do we know it's not you?" He countered shakily over his shoulder, turning to glare defiantly at the grey-eyed wizard. Sirius's head snapped up, the dulling fire behind his eyes burning back to life in an instant. "How
"That is my brother out there," he growled. "My best friend."
"Mine too," Remus snapped, picturing James. Against his will, he added, "So are you," before he could stop himself. He tried to keep his angry exterior. Sirius's cold bark of laughter at this felt like a knife in Remus's back. "That's rich, coming from someone who just accused me of plotting murder." Remus tried to keep the wince off of his face at hearing it out loud- what was really being said between them- and his frustration and rage at Sirius's stubbornness pushed him even further. "Well, don't look so surprised," he answered scathingly, shoving Sirius back this time. "Apparently, blind accusations are becoming synonymous with normal around here." They were both silent for what felt like an eternity. Remus searched Sirius's face for something, anything to tell him that this was all some kind of sick joke, but found nothing except a sort of satisfied revulsion in his silver eyes. Sirius broke the stare first, bending over to grasp the strap of the full sack. "I'll keep in touch," he said briskly to the ground. Then he turned, pulled open the door, and walked out. The poisonous anger finally came to a boil inside Remus, and he was at the door in two strides.
"Don't bother!"
He slammed the door shut with everything he had. For a few moments he stood there, the hot, racing feeling of hate rushing through his veins, but as the seconds passed, it seemed to cool, and suddenly everything was slowing down around him and taking him with it. He stumbled forward, pressing his hands against the closed door to catch himself, and twisted around until his back was sliding down the wooden surface, and the tears were sliding down his face.
~
He still couldn't quite grasp it. Hearing Sirius's voice in his head, accusing him, without actually saying it, of betrayal, of passing information to Death Eaters- the very thought of it sounded ridiculous, inconceivable, and yet… that's exactly what had happened. Sirius had stood there, looked him in the eye, accused him of plotting murder, and on top of everything had snarled in his face that he expected nothing more from a common werewolf.
That part hurt the most; he could feel a bit of himself die a little every time he replayed that moment in his head, and that's all he'd been able to do for the last two months. No wonder he'd been unable to sleep.
Remus backed away from the window, collapsing on the edge of the bed and heaving a long sigh. He rubbed his face with his hands.
What was happening to them? He'd known for a while that the stress and worry that came with fighting a bloody war had been wearing them all a bit thin, but for them to actually start accusing each other…
Remus wondered what James would say, if he knew the awful things that Sirius and he had said to each other. He'd been considering writing to James or Peter for a while now, to tell them what had happened; if there was ever a time that he needed comfort from someone, from a friend… it was now.
But he wasn't sure how much words on a page would even help. Though he knew both James and Peter would be astonished and angry, would rush to tell him that Sirius had been out of line and that he hadn't meant what he said, that there was no truth whatsoever in his outbursts, he didn't think it would make much of a difference to read what he could already imagine in his head.
And James, for sure, would then write to Sirius, regardless of whether Remus asked him not to. And he didn't want that to happen. He didn't want to give Sirius the satisfaction of knowing that he'd gone and asked for help, that the accusations had pushed him that much.
On top of all of this, there was a part of him- a small part, but a part none the less- that couldn't help but believe that maybe Sirius's accusations hadn't been that farfetched. Of course, he wasn't a traitor. He hadn't been passing information to the enemy. But did Sirius- as well as the others- really have no grounds on which to stand and doubt him?
You're a bloody werewolf, said the voice inside his head, a voice he was all too familiar with. You're a monster. They have every right to think you a traitor. Why should they trust you?
Remus slid off the mattress until he was sitting on the floor, staring into the small fireplace, watching the flames flicker and grasp but not really seeing them, feeling the warmth on his skin and yet still feeling so cold.
WellyoudknowWellyoudknowWellyoudknow…
He ran his hands through his hair in defeat, squeezing his eyes shut, and feeling scared yet sadly used to the fact that he had no clear answer to that question.
A week later, Remus was starting to worry. Yes, in the midst of a war, worrying was a commonplace action these days, especially for him, but he was really, truly starting to worry that something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.
Sirius had written him only one more letter since his last. In it, he'd said that it had been a long time since he'd heard from Peter- longer than what was normal for Peter at least. Was there a good chance that there was nothing wrong, and they were just letting the stress get to their heads? Of course. But when Remus had read Sirius's words, even though the letter itself was still short and to the point, he thought he was hearing something else beneath the Animagus's cold tone- doubt. Fear.
He rose from his hunched-over position on the bed, where he'd been pouring over the letter for the thousandth time. He felt like he should be doing something, anything to relieve this tension, but he didn't know what. Remus feared that Sirius would crack soon, that he would cave and run away to find Peter, and while a part of him wanted very much to do this exact thing, he knew that this idea was far from safe. He wanted to write back to Sirius and tell him not to do anything rash, but he thought this might push Sirius to do exactly the opposite, if Sirius was still angry enough with him. He was stuck.
Remus strode to the kettle sitting on the small cooking stove and poured himself a cup of tea, trying to relax. It was October thirty-first- Halloween, a Marauder tradition. He should be celebrating, but it was hard to feel happy about the holiday without the others. If it hadn't been for the row with Sirius, the two of them at least could have been spending the evening together, reminiscing over Hogwarts memories, each telling stories about pranks and adventures that the other had forgotten. No matter how hard Remus tried to stay angry at the Animagus for his accusations, he found he couldn't manage it completely. He missed Sirius. He missed James. He missed Peter. He missed the four of them, the four of them and Lily- and now Harry, too- together and happy, the way a family should be. He could only hope that things would still be that way once the war ended.
His gaze drifted out the window at the rising moon in the darkness, his thoughts still on the others. He hadn't heard from James or Lily in a while, either. Maybe he should write. That might take his mind off of things. He wanted to know how they were doing in the house all hours of the day and night. He wanted to hear more stories about Harry. If there was one thing he regretted most about these days of solitude and isolation, it was that he was missing out on seeing Harry grow.
Remus went to his desk and took out a fresh piece of parchment and his quill and ink. He thought for a moment, and began to write.
Prongs,
Moony writing, How're things? I imagine you must be going mad cooped up for so long. The Flower- this was Lily's codename to be used in writing, one she'd picked out herself to their amusement- must be holding it together enough for the both of you, though. Don't worry- the Master (Dumbledore- courtesy of Sirius,) will have a plan. You three will be out of there in no time, I'm sure of it.
Speaking of you three, how's Little Prongs? Lily had picked this name as well, to James's delight. Remus felt a smile inch across his face at the thought of his nephew, a little toddling ball of black-haired fury that was the perfect mixture of both his mother and father. I imagine that he's quite a bit bigger than the last time I saw him. Sorry again that I couldn't be there for his first birthday- tell him hello from me!
Remus paused here, not sure how to continue.
Should he tell them what Sirius had done? How in the name of Merlin could he even phrase it?
He sat contemplating for few moments, thinking of every possible reason that validated telling James, and every reason that validated the opposite. It went on like this for some time, quill hovering over the parchment, deciding.
Should he or shouldn't he?
Making up his mind, he slowly lowered his quill, forgetting for a moment to use the nickname.
James,
Suddenly, a blast of green light and a whoosh of sound came from behind him, making the parchment flutter beneath his hand. Remus whipped around, and saw, to his great surprise, Dumbledore, brushing off his grey robes and blinking the soot out of his eyes.
"Albus?" he said, rising from his desk. He cleared his throat. It was the first time he'd spoken to someone since Sirius had left.
"Hello, Remus," Dumbledore answered, glancing around the room, not moving, not offering an explanation. Remus stood stock still and waited. Dumbledore didn't meet his eyes when he spoke.
"Can I help you with something?" he asked, voicing his confusion at the unannounced arrival. Dumbledore still didn't meet his gaze, staring down the tip of his long, crooked nose, his fingertips gently pressed together in front of him.
He spoke quietly after another moment of silence.
"Sit down, Remus."
Remus felt a coldness he had never felt before wash through him, robbing him of all feeling in his limbs. He suddenly couldn't hear the crackle of the flames in the fireplace anymore. He could only hear the blood pounding in his ears, a steady pump pump pump that was increasing every second. He tried to move. He couldn't. He tried again. Nothing.
He tried to speak. There was no air in his lungs. His mouth was too dry. Dumbledore had only spoken three words, and yet the somber, quiet tone he'd used had been enough to immobilize him, to force him to stand there and wait for what was coming.
Something had happened. He didn't know what. But the feelings of uneasiness that had been rising within him since Sirius's letter seemed to whisper sadly, Told you so, and he knew. Dumbledore had brought news. And he didn't think he could bear to stand there and take it.
But it was coming. So let it come.
"What's happened?" he spoke in barely more than a whisper. He tried to wiggle his fingertips, anything to spark some feeling back into his body. Still nothing.
"Please sit down, Remus," Dumbledore asked, almost pleading, yet still with the same somber tone, gesturing toward the bed.
"No," he answered partly because he was still unable, partly because he felt that if he moved an inch, some spell would be broken, and it would mean that the terrible things he was about to hear would be true, and not just some awful dream. "What's happened?"
Dumbledore closed his eyes, fingertips still pressed together, his whole form as unmoving as Remus's and yet somehow more substantial, because Remus felt as though he were continuously dissolving, dispersing into the air and rushing back together over and over again in the agonizing silence.
"What's happened?" he asked a third time, demanding that Dumbledore place this burden on him, break him down before he simply broke all by himself.
Dumbledore opened his eyes and gazed at Remus with all the pity in the world, all the sadness of someone who'd felt loss and grief a hundred times over, and Remus felt his composure beginning to crumble.
"Remus…" he spoke slowly. Remus pried his jaw open and shuddered in as much air as he could, waiting, waiting.
Dumbledore continued.
"Remus… Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow this evening."
It began in his chest, his very center, and shuddered it's way out; a series of small, fast convulsions that forced the feeling back into his entire body, all at once, pulling out the air in his lungs as quickly as he sucked it back in, once, twice, three times.
He shut his eyes, willing this to be some sort of hallucination, praying though he wasn't sure to whom, begging and pleading that he would open his eyes and Dumbledore would be gone, and he would be able to breath again.
He opened his eyes. Dumbledore was still there.
He knew what Dumbledore's words meant. Of course he did. But he found that he couldn't stop him there. He needed to hear what was next.
"And?" he asked, his voice cracking, broken and defeated, staring at the floor.
On the edge of his vision, Remus could see Dumbledore teeter on the edge of movement, as though deciding whether or not to step forward and touch him. It occurred vaguely to Remus that he had never seen the Headmaster look more unsure, more lost, more human than he did at this moment.
He heard Dumbledore start to speak. "Remus…" he said, in as quiet a whisper as any, "James and Lily…"
At this, these words, these four little syllables, Remus finally shattered. His voice and breath were caught in a great, shuddering gasp, and he bit down hard on his fist, trying to stem the flow, trying with all he could muster to hold in the terrible sobs that wracked his body. He found that he could stand no longer, and stumbled forward, grasping for something, anything to keep himself upright, but the weight of everything was finally too much. Remus fell to his knees, clutching the edge of the mattress with one hand and covering his face with the other as everything was ripped away from him in one horrible, violent pull.
This couldn't be real. It couldn't be.
Remus could numbly feel a hand on his shoulder, but he did not look up. He curled up as small as he could, clutching and grabbing as though he wanted to hold himself together and rip himself apart at the same time. The sounds escaping him were utterly broken, defeated noises, because it felt as though he had been fighting this feeling, forcing himself not to succumb to this sensation for his entire life, and the only things that had kept him away from this edge had been his friends, the wonderful, wonderful people who had accepted and loved him the way no one else ever had, the way he'd secretly feared and believed no one ever would, and now two of them were gone, and the dam burst.
Prongs…
James was dead. The words sounded meaningless. He could not make himself believe that they were true. He couldn't force himself to realize that he would never see the familiar messy hair and lopsided grin directed at him ever again. James, with his glasses and brown eyes and his broomstick in his grasp and that grin that made you believe you were about to be swept along into some new adventure, and you were going to have fun whether you liked it or not. Remus would never feel that again.
And Lily… with her piercing green stare and violent red locks swept over her shoulder, who's smile could light up an entire room. Remus would never again be embraced by her warm, strong grip that made him feel good no matter how bad his day had been, that made him know everything would be okay somehow.
They were gone. He hadn't seen them in months. He would never see them again.
James… Lily…
It suddenly occurred to Remus that these were the only two names Dumbledore had mentioned.
Harry.
"-Harry," he gasped, raising his tear-stained face to look at Dumbledore, who had crouched in front of him, and whose hand had slipped from his shoulder when Remus spoke. "What happened to Harry?"
"Harry is alive, Remus," Dumbledore spoke soothingly.
This was enough to spur him into movement again. He pushed himself to his feet and moved very quickly toward Dumbledore, feeling no hesitation or embarrassment through his grief and pain.
"How? What happened to him? Where is he now? Who's taking him?"
"Harry is perfectly safe, Remus, I promise you," Dumbledore said, grasping Remus's shoulders and looking him directly in the eye. "But I'm afraid we must first discuss… other matters."
Remus was still too disoriented, too grief-stricken, too worried about Harry to think rationally. He grasped Dumbledore's arms that were still grasping his own as Dumbledore led him gently but firmly to the edge of the mattress, where he was lowered until he was sitting with his arms limp at his sides, staring at the ground, feeling nothing and mind racing at the same time- HarryHarryHarryHarryHarry…
He vaguely heard the scraping of wood on wood as Dumbledore moved the desk chair so he could sit across from Remus. He placed his hands in his lap and leaned forward slightly, intent on telling Remus whatever else it was he needed to say, which sent another dull thud of pain through Remus's chest, because he didn't think he could bear anything else on top of this.
Dumbledore was silent for a few long minutes, seemingly giving Remus time to collect himself. After a long while, Remus lifted his gaze from the floor to the Headmaster's face, which was still watching him with that same expression of pity and sadness.
Remus opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, the pain in his chest making every physical movement ten times harder, as though he were moving through very thick mud.
Finally catching his breath, he tried again.
"What- what else do we need to talk about?" he said quietly. Every word hurt, because they were sitting there talking about other matters and not James, not Lily, not Harry, and he couldn't see the point of anything else.
Dumbledore shut his eyes a moment, and opened them again, the piercing blue staring right through the werewolf opposite him.
"Well, first allow me to be a bringer of better news," he began, and Remus jerked his gaze to the wizard's eyes in anger, because if Dumbledore thought he could do or say anything to fix this, to make this okay, then Remus didn't want to hear any of it. Yet the sincerity of the other man's eyes was exactly that- sincere, and Remus could tell that whatever else Dumbledore had to say was important, and so he stayed silent, waiting.
"It seems," he went on, "that tonight's… events have left a very intriguing outcome." Remus flinched at the words, so cold and empty of the horror of what had truly happened tonight, dull and forward.
Dumbledore continued. "When Voldemort attempted to attack Harry-" Remus flinched again- "he was unsuccessful."
"How do you mean?" Remus asked almost reluctantly, yet wanting to hear more about Harry.
"I mean that when his attempt on Harry's life failed, he was forced from his very form," said Dumbledore. "The power exhumed left the house in ruins, and no word of Lord Voldemort's whereabouts has been received. He seems to have vanished."
Remus listened in shock. How could this be? Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark wizard in a hundred years, defeated by a toddler?
"You mean he's just… gone?" Remus asked incredulously.
"It certainly seems to be the case," said Dumbledore.
This didn't make sense. It was ridiculous. And yet here they sat.
"So where is Harry now?" Remus asked without hesitation, sweeping the rest of the information he'd received to the side in concern for James's son.
"I have sent him to his relatives," answered Dumbledore slowly.
"Relatives? What relatives?" said Remus in a rush. But then a horrible thought occurred to him. "You don't mean… Lily's sister?"
"Petunia Dursley's home is Harry's current residence," said Dumbledore even more slowly, as though trying not to let something slip. "It is the safest place for him now."
"You couldn't find anyone else to care for him?" Remus asked angrily, because it seemed to him that Dumbledore had taken James and Lily's son and given him away without a second thought. "What about me?"
"You know as well as I do, Remus, and, please, forgive me for saying so, that you would be in no fit condition to care for a child on your own."
Remus felt the familiar feelings of shame rise up at his condition, but brushed them aside impatiently.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Wait, hang on- Sirius is Harry's godfather, why on earth wouldn't you send him straight to-"
And then it hit.
Sirius.
Sirius.
Where was Sirius?
He left, remember?
Why?
Because- because he accused you of working for Death Eaters.
But why?
Because we were all being forced into hiding for James and Lily.
He left because he was trying to find a safer place to stay.
But why?
Because he-
Because he was the Secret Keeper.
Sirius was the Secret Keeper.
Remus was on his feet in a second, eyes wide with horror at the realization. Dumbledore still sat, looking up at him with that strangely-human look of sorrow, as though he dreaded saying any more.
He began pacing the room, trying to piece it all together, but his brain wasn't working properly, as though he had been hit with a Confundus Charm.
He stopped pacing at his desk, hunching over the wooden surface and grasping the sides of it, feeling as though he might be sick.
With a stab of pain, his eyes fell on the letter he'd been writing when Dumbledore arrived, on the last word that trailed off with no explanation.
James,
He didn't know where Sirius was now. He didn't know what had happened that night. But there were two terrible things he was certain of.
Sirius had been the Secret Keeper.
And James and Lily were dead.
~oOo~
I hope this chapter lived up to the standards set by the first one. I have a few ideas about how this story will play out, so I imagine the next chapter is where we'll see it start to pick up.
Speaking of the next chapter, I was thinking five reviews, and then I'll post it? Yeah, I think that's reasonable(;
Thank you so much for reading! I'll try to have Chapter Three ready soon!
~Bailey xx