A/N: It's me again! Sorry, I know it's been awhile. I've been--well hell, I've just plain been uninspired. However, in celebration of the fact that Rowling outed Dumbledore (and didn't the fanfiction authors know it first?) I've decided to update. Thanks as always to all of my wonderful reviewers - you're all fabulous people. And now:

---

9: News of a Dark Lord

It's worse now than it ever has been. Remus hasn't heard from Sirius in nearly a month, and he can't help wondering why. His illogical side immediately leaps to the worst conclusion possible: Sirius has been captured, or killed. His more rational side scolds the illogical part and says that Sirius is probably just busy running from place to place or being cautious and doesn't have time to send a note. Remus figures that all this arguing with himself can't be doing anyone much good.

He sits in his kitchen, listening to the old radio blare out updates on the results of the final task. Harry had emerged unscathed, but the other Hogwarts champion, a student Remus had known and taught, a charming Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, had been killed. That sort of thing did happen in the Triwizard Tournament, of course, that's why there had been the age line, but it didn't make this any easier to accept. The thing which really puzzles Remus is why no one has announced the cause of death. Everyone had seen two live boys leave with a portkey, which all the commentators said had been part of the challenge, albeit a surprise, and one live boy and one dead boy return. But hadn't Harry told someone how Cedric died by now? How close had Harry, now the winner of the entire tournament, come to meeting the same fate?

Remus is now tuning the radio out, largely trying to concentrate on his thoughts, Sirius, and Harry, and Cedric, dead, and then Sirius again. He suddenly hears something that startles him out of his musings: a loud knock on the door.

Knocks on the door typically mean surprises. And in times like these, when boys are killed without explanation and Dark Marks are cast over Quidditch World Cups, it's best to prepare for the worst.

Remus grabs his wand and, holding it at the ready, makes his way cautiously towards the door. "Who's there?" he calls out.

"Open the door, Remus," says a very familiar and weary-sounding voice from the other side. Remus' heart skips a beat. He's almost afraid he's imagining things. Sirius?

Remus obliges and lets the other man in. Sirius looks thin and tired and worried, but he's alive, thank Merlin, and he reaches out and puts a hand on Remus' shoulder and just looks at him and isn't a hallucination and that's alright.

Remus and Sirius don't say anything, only it's the kind of not-saying-anything where the air fairly crackles with heat that has nothing to do with summer. It is impossible to say who moves first, the only thing that matters is that they almost meet in the middle, and then each holds the other's face for a tenuous moment before they crash in a kiss. It's the sort of powerful, fiery kiss where heavy words like "I missed you" and "I love you" and "thank Merlin you're alive" don't need to be said because they can be felt through contact alone. They kiss and kiss and kiss for what feels like so beautifully long and is entirely too deliriously short, because then they need to breathe and the kiss evolves into a hug and they're panting and laughing and so damn relieved that nothing else matters.

They break apart and just look at each other, again, longer. Sirius says, "You've gotten thin."

"So have you. And your eyes—"

"Yours too."

"Your hair is longer."

"Yours is almost all gray." Sirius brushes a strand of almost-all-gray hair from Remus' face back behind his ear. "We're getting old, Moony."

Remus smiles, and he means it for the first time in months, and he feels like laughing. Or crying. Whichever comes first. "That we are."

Sirius takes Remus' hand and kisses it softly, strokes it with his thumb, as if touching even a small part of Remus is enough. There are tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, I lost touch, it was…Remus, it was Harry, he's been in grave danger, if only you knew…"

Remus nods. "I figured as much. Sit down, tell me about it."

"I don't have that much time," Sirius says. "I wish I had more. I have to get to everyone else, all the old crowd. I came to you first because I didn't want you to have to worry for too long…"

"Sit," Remus commands. "You're weak. I'll get you something to drink, just sit down for a second. The others can wait fifteen minutes to give you time to catch your breath. Merlin," he adds, "you don't know how good it is to see you again."

Sirius slumps down on the couch. When Remus returns from the kitchen with a drink, the other man has his head in his hands. Remus sits next to him and puts a comforting arm around his shoulders and just lets Sirius breathe. Too much has happened. Too much.

After a minute or two of comfortable silence he hears Sirius say, "He's back, Remus."

"Who's back?" Remus asks, fearing that he already knows the answer.

"Voldemort," Sirius replies, his voice barely above a whisper, and Remus tenses at the confirmation. "Harry saw him come back. He killed that boy, that other boy, Remus. He—"

Something breaks then and Sirius can't continue. He stops and shudders and leans into Remus for a moment and Remus lets his hand wander in Sirius' long black hair before saying gently, "Start from the beginning. It might be easier that way."

Sirius nods and begins. He talks first about how he wandered around the British countryside for some months, mostly as a dog, before finally getting an owl from Dumbledore about a cave outside of Hogsmeade where he could stay. He speaks almost jokingly of having to live off rats and collect old Daily Prophets that people threw out to find out anything of what was going on in the world at large. He had visited with Harry, kept an eye on Harry, tried to advise Harry as to what to do. But it turns out that they had both been barking up the wrong tree all along. Moody was Voldemort's spy in the castle, or rather, not Moody, an old Death Eater impersonating Moody. He had helped Harry get to the center of the maze with Cedric, where the trophy actually turned out to be a portkey, which had transported the two to a graveyard. Sirius apologizes for sounding so farfetched, but Harry has to be telling the truth, Harry wouldn't lie about something like this.

And it's what happens inside of the graveyard that Remus does, indeed, find hardest to believe. Voldemort kills Cedric, yes, that he can understand. But then that strange ceremony with the bone, the blood, and the flesh—Pettigrew's flesh, no less—that resurrects Voldemort is so strange, so dark, that Remus would not have believed it had he not already been familiar with the ritual from his knowledge of the Dark Arts. Then the summoning of the Death Eaters, the duel, the connection between Harry's wand and Voldemort's…it all seemed so implausible. And the fact that Harry had escaped with his life…

"Remus," Sirius says. "I believe him, it's just…he was so close, Remus, so close, to ending up like Lily and James…he handled himself so well, just like his father, but…I was so afraid for him, so worried, he isn't my son, but he is, but in some ways…"

"I think I know what you mean," Remus tells him, holding him, letting him make as little sense as he likes. He knows, though, that there's more of James and Lily in Harry that shows than either of them could have imagined. And what do you do with a boy like that? Do you act like a parent he's never known, or a friend he's never had?

Just a few more minutes of silence and Sirius straightens and says, "I should go…tell the others. But I'll be back this time. Dumbledore said…I think it's safe for me to be back, now. Here. With you."

"I'll go with you," Remus volunteers. "Or I'll tell half of them. You don't need to do it all yourself."

Sirius shakes his head. "Thank you, but I feel like…I have to, does that make sense? It might not. It's—"

"I'll wait up for you," Remus says.

"Thanks." And Sirius kisses Remus lightly and tells him he loves him before he walks out the door again.

Remus leans back into the couch and sighs and wonders—not for the first time, and not for the last—what they've all gotten into now, and how they'll ever get out of it.

---

Today was the day.

A month had passed. Time flies when you're having fun. And while initially awkward, the dueling sessions tutored by Professor McGonagall had become almost that. Fun. Of course, Remus never forgot the seriousness of what they were doing, training to be in the Order, part of an important secret organization, but Sirius sometimes did, and watching him run through curses and countercurses with that adrenaline-induced smile on his face made it seem less like work and more like play. And McGonagall was more than impressed by their progress, by Sirius' impossible drive to master every curse he didn't get the first time, and by Remus' apparent natural aptitude for defense against the Dark Arts. At the end of the month, she was supposed to submit a recommendation to Dumbledore as to whether or not they should be fully accepted into the Order, but McGonagall told them not to worry about it. Remus thought he saw her wink.

On that one fateful Monday night, McGonagall knocked on their door for the last time. Remus was cleaning up dinner, so Sirius answered. They were used to her by now. They knew when to expect her. They knew when they shouldn't be doing anything that could potentially create awkward situations like the one on the first day.

McGonagall walked briskly into the flat, her black cloak swishing behind her. "Thank you, Sirius. Where's Remus?"

"Kitchen," Sirius said. "Moony, get in here!"

Remus, who had just finished drying off the last dish, rushed in. "I'm here, I'm here. So, what's the verdict?"

She smiled. "Congratulations, boys."

"Yes!" Sirius punched the air victoriously. "We did it!" And before anyone could stop him or he'd even thought it through, he ran up to Minerva McGonagall and threw his arms around her in a hug. She made a little strangled throat-clearing noise and he let her go, startled. "Er, ah, sorry. Got a little carried away."

Professor McGonagall straightened her spectacles. "Understandable. Perfectly understandable. Now, you two will be coming with me. We're flying tonight, just so you know how to get there, and in the future be aware that there will be protections set up to keep anyone from Apparating directly into the house." They nodded. Remus didn't really like this idea. "Good. Grab your brooms."

"I, erm, I don't own a broom," Remus said. He'd never been able to afford one of his own, and it seemed useless to buy one when he could Apparate or Floo almost anywhere.

McGonagall looked at him rather sternly. "I'm sure you won't mind flying with Sirius, Remus."

"I—er, I mean, I won't, but…"

"I don't use a broom," Sirius explained. "And he's afraid of the flying motorbike."

"With good reason! That motorbike is a menace to society! I'm convinced that it goes out and hunts small animals at night. Maybe small children."

"You're being absolutely ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with the motorbike. It has a wider seat than a broom, anyhow, so you're less likely to fall off while flying over London."

"Falling. Thanks. That makes me feel great about flying on anything."

"Remus," Professor McGonagall interjected. "Calm down. I'm inclined to agree with Sirius on this one. Flying is perfectly safe if you can keep two hands on a broomstick." Remus opened his mouth to protest, and McGonagall shot him a look. "I've never known you to be so unreasonable about anything before."

"I don't…like flying," he finished lamely.

"I'm sorry," McGonagall said, a little coldly. "You're going to have to. You need to know how to get to headquarters. Now, you're either coming with Sirius, who I'm sure would be happy to share his motorbike, or with me."

Remus gulped.

When they dismounted about a half an hour later, Remus was windswept and his knees were shaky and he felt like he was going to be sick. And this was why he didn't like flying. Werewolves weren't meant to fly. Werewolves were meant to stay on the ground, where they couldn't fall thousands of feet and break their necks. He felt ill. He felt very, very ill. Sirius, however, was focused on something entirely different.

"I can't believe you chose to ride with McGonagall instead of me!" he exclaimed, dismounting his motorbike smoothly. "What were you thinking?"

"That she's older and wiser and doesn't operate some enchanted and highly dangerous Muggle contraption," Remus said, sitting down on the cool, cool grass and trying to concentrate on keeping his dinner in his stomach, where it belonged.

Sirius sat next to him. "I feel like you don't trust me."

"I trust you," Remus said, "just not to be careful. I saw you doing all those loops back there. And if we could please not have this conversation now—" He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick. He lay on his side and waited.

Sirius looked genuinely concerned now. "Breathe, Moony, breathe," he said softly, stroking Remus' arm. "You'll be fine. Relax. Breathe. Deep breaths."

After a minute or two, Remus obviously wasn't going to hurl, his color had become somewhat less green, and he felt a bit better. He sat up slowly. "Oh man. Sirius, I'm sorry."

Sirius shrugged. "Motion sickness happens. And you haven't flown much before, have you?" Remus nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it. For the record, I would have been a lot more careful had you been on the bike. Need help getting up?"

Remus nodded. Sirius took his hand and stood, pulling Remus up and catching him in an embrace. Remus held on, only partially to keep himself upright. He buried his head in Sirius' shoulder, the place where his soft hair used to fall. Sirius had gotten it cut the week before, and thought it was still thick, it was shorter than it had ever been. "I don't like your new haircut," he said into Sirius' neck. "I miss your hair. Grow it out."

"You're just delirious from the motion sickness," Sirius laughed. "Come on, we should go, McGonagall's waiting for us."

They walked together to where McGonagall was standing, and Remus became aware of his surroundings for the first time. They'd landed in the middle of an apparently empty lot of land right in the middle of a new-looking suburban neighborhood. Some of the houses still had "For Sale" signs up. It looked very quiet, very peaceful. A sort of an odd place for headquarters, but, then again, no one would think of looking for a secret wizarding organization out here.

"Here," Professor McGonagall said, handing each one a scrap of parchment, "Read these and memorize them."

The two recognized Dumbledore's handwriting and memorized the unfamiliar address on the parchment. When they looked up, their eyes met a strange sight: a house appeared to press its way out of the ground. An ordinary, new-looking Muggle-house, first the roof, then the second story, and then the bottom level, grew up on the spot as if someone had planted it, until it sat there, occupying the space as if it had been there all along. Which it probably had. Sirius and Remus glanced at each other. They'd expected something of the like, but that was, wow. A lot.

"Well, boys," Professor McGonagall said, "Come inside. Most of the Order is already here."

The pair looked at each other and followed her through the completely ordinary front door of the completely ordinary house. The interior was bright and cheerfully lit, the floor hardwood, the walls white and blank and devoid of any personality. They were in a small foyer, which led to a hallway, which branched off, one side to an office of some sort, the other a dining room. The stairs ahead of them led to a second floor that they couldn't see, but Remus assumed that it was practically set up with bedrooms to accommodate Order members who needed to spend the night for whatever reason. A long table with benches had been set up to accommodate everyone in the dining room, and Remus immediately saw a familiar face sitting at the far end.

"Frank!"

Frank turned around—he'd been talking to a round-faced girl sitting across from him—and grinned and waved from the table. "Remus! Sirius! Hey! Long time no see, huh?"

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "Didn't know you were in the Order. Kinglsey here too?"

"Not yet," Frank said. "I don't know if he was contacted, honestly, with us being not supposed to ask and all. Oh, this is my friend Alice," he added abruptly, indicating the girl, who looked a couple of years older than him. "Alice, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black."

"I remember you two," Alice said, looking from one to the other. "You…Sirius, you were always getting in trouble. You—and James, right?—jinxed the banners in the Great Hall so that they would stay Gryffindor colors even though Ravenclaw had won that year." She grinned and gave them a thumbs up. "Nice work there."

"Well," Sirius said, almost modestly, "we try."

"I know Alice through Auror training," Frank said. "She's only got a year left and I've just started."

"How is that?" Remus asked, genuinely curious. "James and Kingsley are doing that with you, right?"

"A blast. Literally." Remus rolled his eyes at the horrible, mangled pun, but Sirius grinned, no doubt relishing the image of James, Frank, and Kingsley blowing things up during training. "I mean, it's hard work, but with James and Kingsley we're able to make it enjoyable enough. Everyone at the Ministry is impressed that three boys from one year met the Auror qualification standards."

"We're also impressed at how well you three are doing," Alice said, smiling at Frank. "Took me awhile to get the hang of it."

"Well, we help each other out," said Frank humbly.

Just then, Sirius grabbed Remus' arm and whispered excitedly, "Remus, do you know who that is?"

"Who?" Remus looked over to the people who Sirius was gaping at, all the way at the end of the room, two tall men talking to a guy in a dorky-looking hat. "Hat Guy?"

"No, no, not Hat Guy. The people talking to Hat Guy. Ugh, for once I wish you were James." Remus thought Sirius was kidding. He thought so. "Those are the Prewett Brothers! The Prewett…no…stop shaking your head at me Moony, you should know who they are. Practically legends among Hogwarts pranksters…no…you are so culturally uneducated!"

"You're one to talk. So do you want to go meet them, or what?"

Sirius paled suddenly. "Meet the Prewetts? You mean, like, talk to them? Face-to-face? Person to person? As…as…equals?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I think McGonagall wants to introduce us to someone," Sirius said abruptly, and he dragged Moony the other direction.

Professor McGonagall did indeed want to introduce them to someone, Edgar Bones. He and his sister, Amelia, were already moving up in the Ministry, and Remus couldn't help but feel more than proud when she talked about their aptitude for defense. Then Marlene McKinnon, who Sirius seemed to get on with but Remus found a bit intimidating, and a wild-haired woman named Dorcas Meadowes, and then two very familiar faces burst through the front door and there weren't time for any more introductions.

"Padfoot! Moony!" James exclaimed, leading Lily Evans in with his arm around her waist. "Sorry we're late, Moody took us by way of Scotland to make sure we weren't being followed."

"Worked, didn't it?" asked a gruff voice from behind James and Lily, and Sirius and Remus craned their necks to glimpse a rather grizzled and scarred man who must be the famed, if paranoid, Auror, Alastor Moody. "We didn't give 'em the chance to catch on."

"Well, erm." James seemed of a bit of a loss for words, obviously not wanting to insult his mentor. "Yeah, I guess…it did work."

Peter came puffing in behind them. "Hey guys! Am I too late? Have we started?"

"No, Peter," said a very fond, familiar voice behind them. They turned to see Albus Dumbledore, dressed in a long, official looking robe, his blue eyes shining behind his spectacles. "Not yet."

"Where'd he bloody come from?" Sirius whispered loudly.

"We're waiting on three more, and then we'll begin," Dumbledore continued, as if nothing had been said, although Remus was almost positive he'd heard Sirius. "I would step away from the door, if I were you," he told Peter.

No sooner had a rather puzzled Peter edged away than the door burst open, smashing into the wall where he had just been standing. In the doorway stood a giant of a man with a mane of bushy black hair and a thick beard, a familiar sight to all of the Marauders.

"Hagrid!" James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus all cried in unison, happy to see the Hogwarts gamekeeper, who had always been friendly.

"Hello, good to see yeh all here" Hagrid said cheerfully. Then, addressing Dumbledore, he added, "Sorry I'm late, sir, it's hard, relyin' on Muggle transportation. Not sure how they manage. An' I picked up these two along the way, Diggle took a wrong turn over London and was havin' some trouble."

He moved out of the doorway to reveal Kingsley Shacklebolt, and an excitable-looking older wizard who must have been at least two heads shorter, despite his ridiculous top hat. They were a comical pair, and Remus wondered what it was like for a wizard like Diggle to have to train someone like Kingsley. An interesting experience, no doubt. It would be hard to find a more ill-matched pair. Had Dumbledore done that on purpose?

"Well," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "if that's everyone I believe we should begin. Please, take your seats."

As the small party in the foyer trooped back towards the dining room, Remus heard Sirius whisper to James, "Hey, Frank and Alice, is anything…going on there?"

James looked bewildered. He wrinkled his brow. "What? I—no, I don't think so. Why do you ask, Pads?"

"No reason," Sirius said. "But if I were you, I'd keep an eye on them. The way they act around each other made me think they're a couple."

James laughed and shook his head at his friend's assumption, but Remus wasn't willing to dismiss it so easily. Oddly enough, Sirius' intuition when it came to these matters, relationships, that was, was unbelievably keen, almost as sharp as Lily's. Must come from experience. He wouldn't be surprised if Sirius were right about Frank and Alice. Now that he thought about it, they did seem a little too smiley for their own good.

Everyone, Remus, Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter, that was, took seats on the right-hand side of the long table. Remus found himself squeezed in between Sirius and Moody, who had insisted on the seat to the right of the head, which was Dumbledore's place. Perhaps, as an Auror, he thought it would be best if he personally saw to the protection of the leader of the Order. Or perhaps he was just crazy. Remus supposed that James and Lily, after a month being instructed personally by him, would be the best judges of that.

Dumbledore was the only one who remained standing. With his long white hair and beard, those wise, alert blue eyes behind the spectacles, and the flowing silver robe, he was indeed an impressive sight. He cleared his throat, but it was an unnecessary gesture, as he already had everyone's attention. When he began, there was no trace of the usual good humor in his voice. "I believe you all know why we are here."

No one moved. No one made a sound. Several people blinked at him curiously.

"You are here, of course," he continued, "on my request. I believe that each and every one of you brings with you experience, talent, courage, integrity, loyalty, cleverness, or some mixture of those qualities which we so value. The question is, why have I called you here?

"As I'm sure you are aware, as I'm sure you were told upon being informed that your services were needed, a Dark Wizard is coming to power. Voldemort." Peter and a few others, including giant Hagrid, flinched at the name. "Yes, Voldemort. Calling him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named only turns the man into something more than what he is. A man. He is motivated, as many other men are, have, will be, by a thirst for power. He has turned to Dark Magic and evil deeds to quench this thirst. He has been gathering followers, Death Eaters, surreptitiously for the last five years. More are being enticed to join him every day, with false promises of wealth, power, or anything their heart desires.

"You've surely heard by now of the mysterious disappearances, of the deaths. I am sorry to say that the Daily Prophet will not report these murders as the work of Voldemort and his followers, although there has been much evidence to lead to the belief that they are. However, I am sure that you have also come to the very same conclusion as I, that the wizarding world, that the Muggle world, for that matter, is in grave danger.

"The most horrifying truth—and I will not mislead you on this point—is Voldemort's goal in seeking power. He wishes to cleanse the world of all non-wizards, or those not from wizarding stock. He believes that this will result in a superior race, that ridding the world of those so-called blemishes will make it a better place for all those worthy of living there. Consequently, many of his supporters come from old, pureblood lines." Remus squeezed Sirius' hand under the table. You're not one of them.

"But who those support him are beside the point, as we are all united in opposition. Everyone present should know that this could not be farther from the truth. All creatures, wizard, Muggle, or otherwise, has the potential to bring something into this world which serves for its betterment. The Order of the Phoenix was formed to defend those whose rights would be taken away, whose lives would be destroyed. Among the Order, all are equal. We're not just sabotaging Voldemort's plans; we are preventing him from destroying millions of innocent lives. Our goal is simple. The task is complex."

Dumbledore seemed to be nearing the end of his speech. He surveyed them all over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "The protection of the human race. It is a noble goal. Some would call it a fool's war we're waging. As of now, we are outnumbered. But we have something that Voldemort does not, and will never truly have. It is something in our hearts, something which cannot be taken away from us. And that, fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix, is a cause worth fighting for."

Dumbledore bowed his head; he had finished. After a few moments of silence, everyone started clapping. Some stood, even. The room, no, the entire house filled with the overwhelming noise.

After the applause had carried on for a minute or so, Dumbledore raised his hands to quiet them. The mirth was back in his face. "Now, I'd say something to commemorate the occasion, the first meeting, is in order. At least before we get to all of the picky little administrative details. Minerva, did you bring the camera?"

"Yes, it's in the living room," said Professor McGonagall, gesturing to the adjacent room.

"Excellent. Well, file out, everyone, and follow Minerva. I trust her to know what she's doing."

In the chaos that ensued, with everyone trying to get into the same room through the same small doorway at the same time, Remus was separated from Sirius. He didn't see him again until they had all organized themselves into rows somehow and Sirius waved at him from the other side of the room. James, Lily, and Peter had all ended up next to each other down in the front.

Kingsley, who, whenever James and Sirius decided to take Remus' camera and go on a photographic rampage, always said he didn't photograph well, was helping Professor McGonagall set up the tripod and get the camera focused. Technology these days was just beyond some people.

"Yes, yes, thank you Kingsley, I think I've got it now." Professor McGonagall peered into the camera. "Oh, for goodness' sakes, look happy, this isn't a funeral."

"Yeah," someone said, perhaps one of the Prewett brothers. "We're saving the world, after all. Is this how you want to be remembered?"

Some laughed at that. The general somber mood had broken. Whatever came tomorrow came tomorrow. For today, they had the Order. They had each other. Remus looked at Sirius and smiled.

Professor McGonagall pressed the shutter button and captured the moment forever.