There was silence in the room as Regulus processed Remus's words. Azkaban. Sirius, his brother, perhaps the most loyal man in the world, was trapped in Azkaban, for charges of treason and betraying his closest friends in the boggled the mind. He knew how it happened, could even reckon why given enough effort, but still he found it difficult to believe. Finally, however, his gaze settled onto Remus, who was still pale with his own realization over Sirius's innocence.

"We need to get him out." The dark-haired man stated, without even a scrap of hesitation or doubt. Their could be none, if anything was going to work out anywhere resembling alright. Only Sirius had the right or ability to steal Harry, and he wouldn't leave his brother to rot in that hell-hole besides, not for a crime he didn't commit. Remus blinked at the words, before shaking himself. When he met Regulus's eyes again, there was thankfully no dissent there; just confusion.

"How?" The werewolf asked, shaking his head. Regulus opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped as remus raised a hand palm up. "No, I agree with you that it needs to be done. If you're telling the truth, Sirius doesn't deserve that, and Harry needs a proper family. But this is Azkaban, Regulus. We can't just stroll in and outwith hardly a by-your-leave." His words lef ta sour taste in Regulus's mouth, but he couldn't find it in himself to deny them. Before the younger man could think of something to say though, they were both interrupted by Miriel, the red-haired woman speaking up from where she had remained mostly silent on the couch so far.

"Sorry, but what's Azkaban? Some sort of Wizarding Prison?" She asked, brow furrowing in thought as she looked between the two men. Remus quirked an eyebrow in surprise, most likely at her lack of basic knowledge, before glancing towards Regulus, who just shook his head. Later, he mouthed, before turning to answer his companion.

"Azkaban is not just a Wizarding prison, Miriel, but the Wizarding prison. It's where Magical Britain puts all their real criminals." There were a few, of course, who were only held in the Ministry holding cells for short periods of time, and things like misdemeanors or other crimes which only called for fines as punishment, but most all who broke the law experienced at least a short stint on the bleak prison island to enjoy the company of dementors. Wizarding Britain's laws were harsh, but with magic in play there were few other options to safely secure prisoners.

Miriel, for her part, only furrowed her brows tighter, looking down at her hands as if in thought. She frowned harshly, before suddenly blinking and gasping. When she looked back up again a moment later, her eyes were burning with an inner light that reflected like fire as she stared Regulus directly in the eye.

"As Fire lies chained in darkest hole, to his side Light and Shadow must go.

The wrath of brotherhood burns bright, marching forth with righteous might.

Fear not the Dark for They have no hold, on souls of peace and those most bold.

As Fire lies chained in darkest hole, to his side Light and Shadow must go"

The voice that poured forth from Miriel's lips was not her own, bright and kind and warm, but a high thing, thin and airy as it rasped through the air to reach both men's ears. The woman herself sat stock still as she spoke, almost as if she were a statue were it not for the moving mouth. When she eventually stopped, this changed to a near total collapse, her entire form dropping like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She coughed and haccked for a few moments before, finally, picking herself up to look back at the now wide-eyed men who had become glued to their seats.

"What just-" She asked, before cutting herself off and sighing. "Shit, I just did it again, didn't I?" She muttered, glancing away.

Regulus stared at her for a long moment, wondering for himself just what she was babbling on about, before finally a thought sparked in his brain. The Sight. When they first met, Miriel had mentioned briefly that she had the Sight, which was how she knew all she knew about him. At first he believed it to be merely dreams, a limited gift, but that was a true prophecy. One that made little enough sense, perhaps, but that was par for the course with these things.

"Are you… alright?" Regulus asked after another moment, his expression changing from the battle-wart tense to something a bit softer. Miriel appeared mostly recovered from her experience, but there was still a tremor or two in her extremities. The woman smiled back up at him, trying to wave dismissively.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She assured him, or tried to at least. The slight shaking of her voice was enough to disprove that well enough. "I should be more worried about you. Whatever I said, it… probably wasn't pretty." Here she looked away, and edge of guilt and remorse crawling onto her features in a way that left Regulus baffled. Before he could respond, however, Remus finally seemed to recover from his own shock, speaking up.

"You didn't mention she was a Seer, Regulus." the werewolf hissed, his voice low and quiet. Regulus glanced his way, grimacing.

"I was under the assumption her gift was limited." The younger man snapped back, before turning back to Miriel. Hesitantly, a hand came up, touching her shoulder before retracting when she flinched. He frowned even harder, especially when she refused to meet his eyes. "Miriel, look at me." He half-ordered, and slowly but surely, she complied. There was fear in her eyes, he noted, a sort of fear he recognized easily. It had met his gaze in the mirror every day until that night in the cave, when for good or ill he was forced to leave his family's home. The fear of scorn, rejection, hatred, and all the pain that came with them.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Miriel asked in a voice no longer even trying to hide the quaver, making his heart clench. "I don't know what it was I said, but it probably wasn't good. Most of my fortunes aren't." Regulus, despite himself, cocked an eyebrow at this, but held back his snort. Instead, he reached out once again, this time confidently as he gripped her chin in a gentle but firm hold, keeping the woman from looking away again.

"The Sight is a rare gift, Miriel, but not one to be scorned." Regulus admonished, guessing where these fears must have come from. Muggles, for all he recognized weren't nearly so bad as Voldemort and his doctrine stated, must still be a suspicious lot when it came to anything magical, and if Miriel was prone to more unfortunate portents, he would not be surprised that they had turned the blame for it on her. He sighed, smiling. "And besides, I hardly understood what was being said to begin with. Words do not scare me, bearing the tides of Fate or not."

Regulus took great pleasure in the spark of surprise and, dare he say it, hope that ignited in her eyes as he spoke. Miriel coughed again, this time glancing away in embarrassment rather than shame as her cheeks burned. Regulus let her go, releasing his grip on her chin as he recalled where exactly they were. He too glanced away, though retaining enough composure that he did not blush as well.

"I-ah, thank you." Miriel muttered after a moment, quiet and hesitant. Still, it brought a smile to his lips.

"You are always welcome." He said smoothly, still not looking back to see her reaction. He could have sworn he heard a hitch in her breathing, but distracted himself with thoughts of cold showers, before turning back to Remus, who was now watching the two of them with something approaching amusement, albeit hidden under the thick layer of tension still adorning his frame. "So," He started, coughing slightly, "Where were we?"

"Before or after the prophecy?" Remus asked, his lips quirking upwards even as his hands remained clenched at his sides. In front of him his tea cup sat awkwardly on its platter, as if it had been set down quickly. Regulus grimaced.

"After, I think." He said, before shaking his head. "There's not much we can do about Azkaban at the moment, not without a lot of thought, and this might help us in some way. Do you recall the words?" Regulus asked, earning a nod from Remus, who repeated them slowly but carefully. Regulus listened carefully, frowning deeper with every line. Once the other man was done, he sighed, leaning back in his seat heavily.

"I will be honest. Not a word of that makes sense to me." He stated, bringing up his own cup of tea to help himself think. Who were these Light, Shadow, and Fire. They seemed to be people, if nothing else, but he knew no one by such names, and they seemed more to be titles besides. Remus, for his part, simply furrowed his brow in thought, reaching out for his own cup of tea.

"I think it may be talking about Azkaban." The werewolf said after a moment, lips pursing tightly. "The line about Fire being chained in darkest hole implies some kind of prison, and 'fear not the Dark for They have no hold, on souls of peace and those most bold.' That sounds almost like a dementor, if you consider the Patronus Charm." Regulus cocked an eyebrow, thinking it over. That didn't sound entirely out of place, but still left the rest of it mysterious. Could the Wrath of brotherhood mean him, then? If one were to presume Sirius, the only prisoner in the place they might care about, was the chained Fire… but then who were Light and Shadow? What roles did they play?

"Mister Lupin?" Miriel suddenly spoke up from his side, snapping Regulus out of his thoughts. Salazar, he'd nearly forgotten about the woman's presence, for all that she had been the one to spark it all off. Still, he wasted no time in focusing his attention on her, eyes as sharp as Remus's.

"Yes, Miss… Miriel, was it?" Remus responded evenly. Miriel smiled wanly, shaking her bushy haired head.

"It's Puck, technically. Miriel Puck." She replied, before continuing. "I wanted to ask, but have you ever seen the symbol of a six-pointed star around an eye? Tattooed on somebody's body, perhaps?" The sudden question made Remus jerk in surprise, and Regulus himself flinched, turning confused glance towards Miriel. She remained steadfast though, staring directly at the werewolf, who, after a few moment's shock, was now back to watching her in turn, very carefully indeed.

"I might have." He said slowly, his features giving nothing away despite their ever-present haggardness. If anything, it helped, casting shadows that concealed any hint of real emotion by burying it beneath the pain and exhaustion. "Why do you ask?" Miriel cocked her head at the vague response, before smiling slightly.

"Well, Mister Lupin, the reason for that is simple. Whoever bears that mark may just be the key to saving Regulus's brother." There was a pause as Remus blinked, absorbing her words. When he glanced to Regulus, the other man simply shrugged. Finally, he narrowed his eyes at Miriel, but did not say a word. Instead, he reached down to his right sleeve cuff and started to roll it upwards, inch by inch. Finally, he stopped, just short of halfway up the bicep, and as he did so Miriel gasped, while even Regulus drew in his breath a little sharper than usual. There, laid across the muscle as if gripping it, was the same mark he had seen under Miriel's shoulderblade, and which adorned his only. The only difference was in color, Remus's marking being a deep, dark grey, almost black where Regulus's was white and Miriel's green.

"The Shadow," Miriel breathed, gazing at the mark sharply for a moment, before turning to Regulus with a softening smile. "And the Light." Then her smile turned mischievous, and her next words bore a tone of levity which had so far been entirely unpresent in the conversation. "I guess this won't be so hard after all."

XXX

Of course, it wasn't so easy as all that. Even the vagaries of Fate could not tell Remus and Regulus how they might manage their goal of breaking Sirius out, and Miriel knew little enough of Azkaban or Dementors to help in that regard. The only known method of fighting the latter was a Patronus, and but against the multitudes nesting in the prison, no one man-or even two-could manage a powerful enough spell to hold them off. Eventually remus had to bid the two visitors leave him in peace, exhaustion overcoming him, and so the meeting was broken off. As they walked out the front door, Remus collapsed onto his couch, groaning.

It had been a hard six months since the end of the war. With all his friends either dead or convicted of the murder, he was left alone in this cold, dreary world, made all the harder by his status as a werewolf. With all that people like Fenrir Greyback and his pack had done during the war, even the already high disdain for his kind was ratcheted up into outright hostility. And now this. Remus didn't even know where to begin with all this.

Sirius was innocent. That was one of the main thoughts whirling through his mind at the moment, something he clung onto for dear life. Sirius was innocent, and now he was rotting in jail for a crime he didn't commit. Not to mention Regulus being alive, another friend returned if not quite so close of one. Godric, that was going to be a mess if ever he saw one, and Remus had seen many messes in his time, mostly courtesy of Sirius himself. The Black brothers had not been particularly friendly for nearly a decade, and the confusing labyrinth of ties and allegiances which defined them was difficult to comprehend. Of course, none of that particularly mattered if they didn't find a way to free Sirius from Azkaban in the first place. Nothing did, really. But how?

Eventually, his exhausted thoughts turned to the last major thing occupying his attention, that about it rang familiar in his mind, the words nagging at his thoughts. Fire, Light, and Shadow. What did those mean? The Puck bird seemed convinced they described Sirius, Remus, and Regulus, but how? Why? The only time Remus had ever heard people being referredto as elements like that was… His eyes snapped open from where they had snapped shut, and his hand gripped his wand tightly. It was a foolish thought, almost a fairytale come to life. But what was the harm in looking? Enough impossible things had occured today. One more wouldn't be asking too much.

"Accio tome," he called croakily, raising his wand, and there was a shifting sound from his bedroom where Remus kept most of his books on the shelves. The door was open, thankfully, so the book came flying through the house on the winds of magic to land before him without difficulty, settling on the coffee table in a heavy thud. Remus glared at it before groaning, and forcing himself up enough to reach out and snag it. The book was old, and heavy, but he managed, and within moments it was opening to the appropriate pages, with only a small bit of help from the table of contents. What he saw there almost made him gasp sharply.

The book was a history on some of the most important aspects of Wizarding culture that had been lost to the ages, Things forgotten, outlawed, or simply never continued for one thing or another, and the section he was looking at addressed one thing in particular. The Coven. Covens were, generally speaking, a gathering of Witches and Wizards who shared their powers magical and mundane to achieve some sort of goal, almost like a political party except extending to any purpose one could think of. Some Covens had been formed to fight wars, others to push through social reforms, and even more for esoteric designs, such as the guarding of an ancient and powerful artifact or place. That was just generally speaking though. There hadn't been any Covens in centuries, the practice seeming to fall out of use sometime shortly after the Statute of Secrecy came into play. Still, there were a few ways to identify the members of a Coven marked down in the tome, and it was here Remus found his eyes drawn. The first and most prominent was a simple sign, usually found somewhere on the Coven member's body and marking the magical pact which bound them to their purpose. A simple, six-pointed star, with interchangeable symbols locked inside depending on whatever their stated purpose was. A sword, for warring, a shield for defending… and an eye, for the guidance of some person or peoples to a grander purpose.

Digging deeper, Remus found something even more definitive. Covens were always formed of six people, those more formal ones at least, and each member was said to be bound by an element related to their particular role in the group. The specifics of these roles were complicated, but what interested him more was the identification for each. Their Coven marks would be different colors, each denoting an element. Blue for Water, green for Air, brown for Earth, red for Fire, grey for Shadow, and white for Light.

Finally, Remus snapped the book shut, sighing didn't know what to think, after reading it. On the one hand, he had never agreed to join some cabal of magic users dedicated to some express purpose, but on the other hand, it wasn't expressly clear what made Covens form. Could they be some act of Fate, gathering strangers from distant corners to fulfill a greater purpose? Or was all this some grand hoax? He closed his eyes, shaking his head. The answers would come later. For now, he needed to sleep. Tomorrow was the full moon, and he would need all the rest he could get.

His dreams were filled with the rattling of chains, and a man's sobs in the dark night.

XXX

Well, that just happened. I'll be honest, I have no idea where this came from. I was just glancing through my stories when the writing bug jumped me. Don't be surprised if I toss another chapter or two up shortly, but don't expect it either. As i said, this was completely out of the blue.