Chapter Text
Once upon a time the plural of 'wizard' was 'war'.
Terry Pratchett
"Well, is it done?" The Dark Lord sounded impatient, as if it were a matter of life and death.
Specifically, his life and death. He wouldn't sound so concerned about anyone else. Regulus was quite sure that the Dark Lord would have murdered half of the pureblood population without blinking an eye, as long as it suited his goals.
"Yes, yes, My Lord," a squeaky male voice responded. Regulus could hear a faint trace of hesitation. It was rare. Most Death Eaters would be eager to report their success on something that was clearly of the highest importance.
He slid his elbow closer to the edge of his desk, using his other hand to move aside the parchments related to the family business. His head was still propped on his hand, though he straightened his position, suddenly interested.
It annoyed him that he couldn't place the voice. He'd surely heard it before. The short, hunched posture of a masked Death Eater who came in a few minutes before also seemed distantly familiar. How weird. Such a task would typically go to someone top-tier, and those were easy to recognize. Bellatrix, Lucius, Antonin, Augustus... Perhaps a few others, but none of them resembled the guy in his father's old study.
"Do go on. I don't have all evening."
"We performed the ritual, My Lord. I'm the Secret Keeper. The Potters' location is..."
Of-bloody-course. His brother's little sidekick. He always knew Sirius had a terrible taste in friends, but he wouldn't take them for traitors. Well, Pettigrew was quite obviously the weakest link. If the Dark Lord needed access to the Potters, he must have been the easiest to turn. What a fucking insanity to make him the Secret Keeper.
"Alright, Kreacher. That's enough," Regulus muttered. "The Potters are none of our business."
When his mother left for their mansion in Wales about two weeks ago, he instantly opened the doors of Grimmauld Place to the Dark Lord, with her blessing. It didn't raise any suspicions. He was a young Death Eater trying to impress; no better way to do it than to flash his status. And offering his family home was a classy way to do it. Only Hogwarts had better protections.
Hell. If his mother left a few weeks earlier, it might all have been true. He would have jumped at the opportunity to improve his standing.
Things were different now. "Yes, Master Regulus. Good riddance to them, the traitors and mudbloods who poisoned Master Sirius," Kreacher whispered with none of his usual fierceness, his bulging eyes piercing the floor. He stopped the spell that allowed Regulus to listen to any conversation in the house by putting his hand to his ear.
It seemed like his elf had aged two decades since Regulus lent him to the Dark Lord about a month ago. Kreacher wouldn't talk for a week and barely managed to do any work after coming back, inspiring his mother to want to get rid of him (and given how much he knew, she would do much worse than clothes). Regulus convinced her otherwise, but when he finally heard the full story, something snapped within him.
Faint doubts had been simmering below the surface of his blind dedication for some time now. He liked to bask in the idea of his family's superiority, and he used to be able to stomach a pinch of cruelty to maintain it. But swimming in the sea of blood, pure or not, and dealing with dark magic, compared to which his father's worst sins looked like school pranks? It ruined all the pleasure.
More importantly, Kreacher was his servant... and friend, perhaps the only one he'd ever had. He didn't appreciate anyone using him like that. And the more he discovered about the whole thing, the less he wanted anything to do with it. But he couldn't unknow it, and it wasn't the kind of knowledge you could sit on and do nothing about.
That was how he ended up inviting the Dark Lord under the false pretense, with the sole goal of spying on him. He was using Kreacher's magic, which could bypass any silencing spells. Having realized that the man was, ridiculously enough, a half-blood, he didn't worry about the risk. It would never occur to the Dark Lord that house elves were wielding such power.
"You don't have to stand in the corner, Kreacher. Sit." Regulus gestured at the chair on the opposite side of the desk. The elf obeyed. His movements were slow and uncertain, but the study Regulus appropriated for himself was so cramped that he barely needed to take a few steps. "I'd say Sirius wanted out of here before he learned to walk. He didn't need James Potter for that."
"Yes, Master Sirius was always a bad, bad boy. He only made Mistress sad," Kreacher said half-heartedly. He'd always loved to insult Sirius, but his hate seemed to have lost its edge in the last month. Did he realize there was no way out for Regulus? Probably. And somewhere deep down, the elf thought Sirius was the only one who could help. But he'd never say it outloud. Thank Salazar, because it wasn't an option.
"Mother also only ever made him sad, Kreacher," Regulus observed. At this point, he had no fucks left to give. He could as well say it as it was, even if he didn't care about Sirius. "It's curious, though. The Potters. I've never figured out why he's so obsessed with them."
"Would you like to listen again, Master?"
"No, Kreacher, I'm just making conversation." If only his father could see him now, entertaining a house elf who didn't even want to talk. "I don't have much time. There's only so much dark shit I can investigate in this lifetime."
Kreacher's ears flopped down. He was fidgeting with the pillowcase he was wearing. It was already evening. The room only had one narrow window, and the elf was outside the range of light provided by the single lamp. Regulus had to strain his eyes to follow the jittery movements of his fingers.
Grim as it was, Regulus could only focus on one thing for the rest of his (numbered) days. He grimaced, taking a leather-bound notebook out of a special drawer in his desk. It opened only upon contact with his fingerprint. The journal contained his entire investigation, which left him unable to sleep or eat. A shiver went down his spine each time he thought about it.
He was sure now. The Dark Lord's obsession with immortality made him reach for the darkest, sickest thing available to a wizard. If he was capable of destroying his soul, what hope was there for the world?
Regulus had always hated his brother's heroic antics. The thought of sacrificing himself for the greater good, something way bigger than the ideas that usually occupied his mind, only made him sick. Yet, what the fuck could he do? There was no point to his life as it was. He wanted no part in turning the Wizarding World into hell; it was where it was going, for mudbloods and purebloods alike. Yet, he couldn't trust anyone enough with what he discovered. With nowhere to turn, he could as well go out with a bang.
They didn't talk anymore. Regulus tried to engross himself in his notes, while Kreacher awaited further instructions. For some reason, Regulus couldn't focus. It occurred to him how ironic it was that Kreacher's ability, which used to drive Sirius mad, now uncovered that his friend was a traitor.
Only it didn't, because no one but Regulus had heard it. He sighed. The Potters would be dead in a few days, if not sooner. And it would be the end of Sirius's world.
The thought made him strangely melancholic. He would soon follow the Potters to the afterlife, and despite his strained relationship with Sirius, it definitely wouldn't help his brother keep his head straight. And was he really prepared to go without saying goodbye to anyone other than Kreacher?
Before he thought it through, he blurted out. "I need to listen again, Kreacher." The elf nodded eagerly.
The meeting was coming to an end. "You're dismissed. I have things to do. Yes, most certainly, I need to move fast now. Off you go."
"My Lord, I don't wish to be a distraction, but I need a hiding place now. I'd be eternally grateful for your protection." Pettigrew's high-pitched voice was bloody annoying.
The Dark Lord huffed impatiently. "Do not use my precious time on such trivial issues. We can talk about this after the Potters' bodies go cold. Besides, what are you worried about? When they are dead, everyone will blame... the traitor who used to live in this very house."
Damn it. Now, Regulus was more than a tiny bit annoyed. Who was Pettigrew to make a foul of a Black?
He most certainly needed to move even faster than the Dark Lord. He had just made the strangest decision of his life. And he felt weirdly peaceful about it.
Something was off, though Sirius wouldn't be able to explain it. He had an uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach since waking up, and it grew more and more persistent throughout the day. Could it be his father haunting him on Samhain? The thought comforted him a little; a perfect illustration of how fucked-up his life had become.
It was nearly midnight, and he was getting impatient, waiting for Peter to answer his Patronus. He poured himself more firewhiskey and instantly set it aside, realizing he might need to check on Wormtail after all.
The fireplace buzzed, startling him. He'd been moving around a lot lately. Hardly anyone knew he was staying in the cottage in Cumbria, which he inherited from his late Uncle Alphard. And most of those who did wouldn't reach him via a Floo call.
"Sirius! Sirius! Are you awake?!" Andy yelled as her head appeared in the flames. Her dark eyes were wide with fear.
Sirius jolted to his feet, knocking over an antique rocking chair. "What's wrong? Is it Ted? Nymphadora?"
She shook her head. "Can I come over?"
Andy wouldn't panic like that for no reason. He needed to know quickly, but he somehow managed to get a grip on his emotions, deliberately slowing his breathing. "No. If something is up, it's too risky. I'll come, alright?"
After she agreed, he grabbed his leather jacket and apparated around to lose any tails, visiting a few random spots in Hampshire and Dorset, before landing outside the gates to Tonks's house near Winchester. He rushed inside. Since he didn't bother to illuminate the darkness, he first tripped on a stone that separated the gravel path from the plants, and then got hit on the stomach by a moving rose shrub. Why did Andy keep that damn monster in her garden?
She met him on the doorstep and shoved him inside, without verifying his identity. He'd have to talk to her about that later. "Hey," she pecked him on the cheek. "Kitchen. Quickly."
He didn't take off his jacket or sit down, lingering near the counter. She said nothing about it and didn't offer anything to drink. Even the familiar coziness of the Tonks's kitchen, still smelling of the meatloaf they had for dinner, mixed with faint scents of herbs hanging on the wall above the counter, didn't serve as a consolation. The situation had all the markings of a crisis.
Sirius's heart was pounding way too fast, also because Peter still hadn't answered his bloody Patronus. "Please start talking before I lose it, Andy."
She wrapped her oversized sweater tighter around herself, and Sirius couldn't tell anymore if she was scared of a threat or his reaction. Gulping, she reached into her pocket. "It's from Regulus. I don't know what it's about; only you can open it. But his elf said it was urgent."
A thousand questions swirled through his mind, but somehow, he felt it was not the time to ask them. It had been years since his last conversation with Reg. Despite all their differences, he knew his brother. If he went through Andromeda, he didn't want to be made by Voldemort. And he wanted to make sure that Sirius would take the message rather than send him away. It must have been important to be worth the trouble.
He leaned against the marble counter, hastily tearing the envelope, his fingers slightly numb from the cold.
"You should know, I got a letter, too.. I think Regulus was saying goodbye. It didn't feel like he was expecting to, uhm, die right away. But he said he didn't want to put me in danger anymore, and he didn't think we would have the chance to talk again," Andy said quietly.
The parchment almost slipped from Sirius's hands. Finally, he managed to unfold it. He pushed all the sudden anxiety away for a moment.
Sirius,
Consider this my final gift: Pettigrew betrayed you. He already spilled the secret to the Dark Lord. They left Grimmauld Place about an hour ago. He plans to move fast, so you'd better do the same.
Good luck,
Regulus
P.S. If you inherit Kreacher, please don't treat him like shit. And don't ever put his head on a plaque, for Salazar's sake!
His heart might have as well stopped. Peter. It couldn't fucking be. But how else would Regulus know? Feeling hot all of a sudden, he turned to the sink and splashed cold water over his face.
"Do you need anything?"
He shook his head and, with a deep breath, waved his wand to destroy the letter. He had no time to spare on wondering how and why.
"I have to go," he said through clenched jaw. "Thank you for everything. I'll contact you tomorrow."
Sirius kicked the door open. "James! Lily!" He roared, stepping into their home's spacious corridor. "Peter is with them! You need to go!"
Lily was first to appear at the top of the curved staircase, holding a crying Harry close to her chest. She was wearing nothing but a light blue nightgown and held her wand between her teeth. Her expression steadily morphed from sleepiness and confusion to mild distress. She moved her wand under her armpit and opened her mouth, only to close it again, her eyes widening in terror. Simultaneously, Sirius felt someone pressing on the door from the other side.
"Lily! Get the Portkey and go! James! Get yourselves out of here! I'll buy you time!" Sirius yelled.
He put up a shield charm in the very moment the door behind his back exploded, pieces of wood piercing his back. He couldn't budge, swallowing down the pain.
"Sirius..."
He wasn't looking at Lily anymore. Five masked Death Eaters and Voldemort stood before him, looking ludicrously inhuman, as if suspended between life and death, and trying to force through his charm. Yet, her small voice reached him through the chaos of their furious spells and cruel cackling. He understood. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind.
But as Sirius watched the attempts to break his protection, resembling an elaborate celebration with fireworks with all their forms and colors, there wasn't even a drop of hesitation in his heart. Lily, James, and Harry were his family. And he got them into this mess. He was ready to die to fix it.
"There's no time, Lily! You have to get Harry out of here!" He realized it was likely their last conversation. He wished so badly he could talk to James. "I love you guys! Stay strong!"
"We love you too, Sirius!" Lily yelled back. He could hear the tears in her voice.
His shield was holding surprisingly well. He gave it everything he had. It could only win extra seconds, perhaps minutes, but they wouldn't need much more.
"Always on the wrong side of things, Black. What a shame! Such a great name, and only your little brother is keeping it pure," Voldemort sneered. Sirius remembered his eyes to be brown, but they now had a scary reddish tinge. Anyhow, Voldemort's words were ironic in so many ways that he had to bite down a snort.
"I can spare you if you move aside, kid. No reason to delay the inevitable, is it?" Voldemort continued. There was every bloody reason, but Sirius couldn't keep it up for long. Voldemort's wand hand was moving with deadly precision, his pale, long fingers dancing elegantly in the near darkness. Sirius could feel that he was the one making the shield waver. His whole body hurt as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. He subconsciously took a step back, almost tripping on someone's shoes.
Inevitably, the protection broke to a triumphant shriek, which seemed to make the entire house tremble. Though the Death Eaters wore masks, Sirius would recognize his wretched cousin, Bellatrix, anywhere. Just his fucking luck; he would die to the laugh of one of his most deranged relatives. On a positive note, at least, it wouldn't plague his nightmares.
He would stand no chance against Voldemort alone. With five Death Eaters on his heels, he could as well throw his wand up in the air. Despite not seeing their faces, he could tell from their changing postures that they were rapidly shifting from breaking the defense to a full-on assault. But he had one more spell in him.
He only needed a fraction of a second to weigh his options; it wasn't his first fight. His back glued to the wall, he looked up and, with a desperate flicker of his wand, vanished the door to Lily's and James's bedroom. It should give them enough time to break through the portkey's protection and get the hell away.
He smirked to himself, satisfied with his decision, dodging three hexes at once by finding cover behind a massive coat closet. Then, parts of the closet exploded, and an unfamiliar curse hit him, knocking him to the ground. It felt as if his blood boiled and then froze, making him unable to move and gasping for air. His eyeballs danced to assess what was going on.
Voldemort rushed past him. "Keep the traitor entertained until I come back. We'll take him with us."
They executed his order so swiftly that the anxiety that consumed him as he watched Voldemort's dark figure get closer to Lily, James, and, Merlin, Harry, got repressed almost immediately. The stabbing pain of Cruciatus penetrated every cell of his body, threatening the corners of his mind, wanting to consume him.
Just as suddenly, it was gone. Too fast. Sirius forced himself to crack his eyes open and realized he had been separated from the Death Eaters by a wall made of, uhm, ivy. Branches and leaves, woven into a tight, solid structure, had appeared out of nowhere and were saving his ass.
It took him a while to piece together what was going on. The Potters' house in Godric's Hollow wasn't as aggressively impressive as many pureblood mansions. Yet, it was ancient enough to hold many secrets and have its ways of protecting its inhabitants. One of them was a small, ugly houseplant in the corner near the entrance, resembling a tiny Wiggentree. James couldn't remove it despite multiple attempts. They never even watered it, but it would almost die and regrow, time and time again.
Thank Godric for that. Turning out to be more than a random nuisance, it just decided that Sirius deserved the status of the house's inhabitant and therefore, its protection. The spells were bouncing off the shield it provided. It was so effective that he now heard more swearing than hexes.
"Cruciatus! Cruciatus, for fuck's sake!!! I'm wasting Unforgivables on a damn plant!!!"
"Bloody hell, what is this thing?!"
"Salazar's cock, it's all useless!"
"Well, dear cousin," Bellatrix drawled. "You certainly have more luck than you deserve. But don't worry. I have something to keep things interesting."
Sirius could see her between the leaves. She reached into her robe and took out an obsidian dagger, which looked like bad news even from afar. She ran her finger along it, as if teasing him, before sending it his way. The dagger pierced through the plant. Sirius rolled over, his shoulder colliding with the wall, but the damn thing was somehow following him. He tried to grab it in a losing fight.
The runes on the blade gleamed eerily. It cut into his thigh, tearing a muscle. He managed not to make a sound, but his mind screamed in agony. Even though it touched only one part of his body, it felt worse than Cruciatus.
Voldemort's burning rage broke through his pain. Relief washed over him, despite everything. They got away. "Kill them both! Kill them!" Voldemort yelled.
Both? What the fuck did it mean?
Before he could ponder it, he heard a crack of apparition. How did it work through the plant? Hadn't anyone tried it before? Never mind; it wasn't important enough to think about in his last moments. He braced himself for the end. At least the pain wouldn't follow him to the afterlife.
He opened his eyes to see if he could recognize who would do the honors. The cacophony in his head made it challenging, but he needed to know. Anyone but Bellatrix. He blinked. It wasn't a Death Eater; James hovered over him, his face scrunched in concern. An awkward combination of relief upon seeing his best friend and dread that he hadn't gotten away pierced through the pain.
"Hey." James lifted Sirius's upper body from the floor, placing his head in the crook of his elbow.
"You shouldn't h-have come b-back," Sirius stuttered. "Too ris—"
"Shh. It's okay. We're getting out of here," James whispered. Sirius instantly felt the pull of a portkey. "And somewhere down the road, you can expect a conversation about who you take me for. I'd never leave you here."
Sirius was grateful he could focus on James's voice, tuning out Voldemort's furious yells.
They landed on something solid. Though James did his best to shield Sirius from the impact, it still felt as if his body was cracking and falling into pieces. How was he even awake? It must have been a pure adrenaline rush. In a rather pathetic attempt, he tried to scramble to his feet.
James gently pressed a hand to his chest. "Easy. Don't try to get up."
"Harry and Lily?" Sirius croaked.
He looked up into James's face to see him inclining his head with misty eyes and a lopsided smile.
Someone clasped his left hand. Lily. "Merlin. We're okay, Sirius." Her voice trembled, which was so unlike her. "Thanks to you." He looked away, thinking that it was the opposite: they had been in danger because of him. She squeezed his hand. "I'll look at your leg now, alright?" He nodded absentmindedly.
"Where—" he started, but then it dawned on him. Of course, emergency portkeys all led to Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. In the unlikely event they were intercepted (despite numerous protections), the Order didn't want to risk endangering the owners of the safehouses. Dumbledore charmed his office to lock the newcomers in until he could clear them; he figured that he was the one person able to deal with any intruders.
"Never mind. Hogwarts. Is Dumbledore here?"
"Right here, my boy." It was weirdly soothing to hear Dumbledore in all the bloody insanity. James adjusted Sirius's upper body a little, helping him see that Dumbledore was on the floor next to Lily, examining his leg. Fawkes settled on Dumbledore's shoulder.
Shit. It looked worse than it felt. The pain was hellish, radiating to his foot on one side and abdomen on the other. But the sight of the dagger glowing eerily, its poison sipping under his skin, and his blood mixing with pus and flowing out onto his leg, which now had a blackish tinge, made the chicken stew he had for dinner travel to his throat.
It was better to forget that some dark shit was replacing his blood. He closed his eyes. James's thumb started rubbing his arm.
There was some shuffling. "Padfoot? Drink this, alright?" James asked softly, putting a vial of what smelled like a pain potion to his lips. He suspected it would have a limited effect, but he obeyed nonetheless.
"Sirius, we need to heal your leg before we deal with anything else." Dumbledore's tone was perfectly calm. "Fawkes is eager to repair the damage, but we need to pull out the dagger first."
"Do it," Sirius whispered. His fists clenched subconsciously. "Put something in my mouth, please. And silence us from Harry. He's had enough reasons to be scared."
"Alright. James—" Dumbledore only had to say a word.
James put a belt in Sirius's mouth. His hand lingered for a moment and brushed damp hair from Sirius's face. "It will be over soon, brother," he said before tightening his hold.
"I'll count to three," Dumbledore announced. Sirius gave a small nod, confirming that he was ready. "One, two, three." The pain that rippled through his leg and all the way up his body took away all his awareness; it was as if his skull cracked in two. It blinded and deafened him. He wasn't sure if he screamed or if he was even breathing.
He wouldn't be able to tell how long he spent in the limbo of agony. When he came back to himself, he was shaking like a leaf in James's arms, his friend whispering assurances into his ear. The pain was subsiding quickly as Fawkes already moved onto his leg, his tears leaking into the wound like a quiet blessing.
When the flow stopped, Sirius forced his messed-up body into a semi-sitting position and touched the phoenix's beak to show his gratitude. Fawkes inclined his head and flew onto his perch on Dumbledore's desk.
Sirius turned around. Concern so profound poured out of James's gaze that his throat clenched. They had an elaborate conversation without exchanging a word, relying entirely on their eyes.
Finally, James said outloud, "Come on. I'll help you onto the couch."
A few minutes and a humiliating walk later, Dumbledore served tea on a small table close to the fireplace. Sirius refused to lie down, since his only major injury was now a tiny scar. Everyone else insisted on it, so he had the sofa to himself, feeling contagious for more than one reason.
"You can imagine that we can't trust everyone in the castle. It would be unwise to get you to the Hospital Wing. I'll ask Poppy to come here instead," Dumbledore explained.
He turned his head to see which of the headmaster portraits were awake, "Phi—"
Sirius quickly raised his hand to stop him. "There's no point, Dumbledore. James has just healed my back. I don't have more injuries."
Dumbledore took a long sip of his tea, studying Sirius with intensity that almost made him uneasy. "Very well. Now, would anyone care to explain what is going on?"
"A travesty, that is for sure! A half-blood attacking the heir of the Most Noble House of Black!" Phineas had unfortunately started paying attention.
"Shut it, Grandpa. I'm no heir," Sirius hissed. "Besides, it was Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black, who attacked me. That's how noble your house is."
"I'm not your Grandpa, young man! You should—" Sirius never found out, because Dumbledore shut his Grandpa up.
Where to start? Sirius ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to translate the fucking insanity into words.
"Dumbledore, before we get to what happened today, you need to know something," James started, perched on the armrest of the large armchair where Lily sat with Harry on her lap. "We thought it would be too obvious if we made Sirius our Secret Keeper. We switched at the last moment. Nobody knew, not even Remus."
"Switched to whom, then?" Dumbledore asked. Sirius could see he didn't like that something happened without him knowing, completely outside his control. Yet, he also fought not to show it.
Sirius gulped. "Peter Pettigrew. We... no, fuck it, I thought Voldemort would never suspect him."
"I see." It might have been Sirius's perception, or Dumbledore's face softened. Perhaps he consciously chose not to put the boot in, sensing Sirius's guilt. "Lily managed to tell me you came to warn them. How did you know?"
Sirius bit his lip. "Can we keep it between ourselves? I'm not sure who to trust anymore."
"You have my word."
Sirius didn't wait for James and Lily to agree. He knew they would never go against him on this. "My brother, Regulus, sent me a message through Andromeda Tonks." James gaped at him. "I swear we haven't been in touch—"
"No one is questioning your loyalty, Sirius," Dumbledore interjected, pouring himself more tea.
"Thanks. Anyway, I would have questioned Reg's, but how could I? He knew about Peter. It was enough." Sirius fidgeted, stretching his aching body. "I didn't tell anyone, because no one else would be able to get through the Fidelius. I didn't want to waste time."
"Understandable. Can you tell me what happened in Godric's Hollow?"
Sirius considered the details rather unimportant, but then again, it did warrant a report. He nodded. As he spoke, the dark sky outside the window became grey, the first light seeping weakly into the office as a reminder that life was still going on, no matter the horrors of the night.
The second he was done, Dumbledore sprang to action. "Excuse me for a moment. I need to inform everyone about Peter Pettigrew. I'll also ask Alastor to join us here and plan our next steps."
Sirius cleared his throat. "Can Remus come, too? Peter... he knows us well. He could try to use Remus to lure us out."
"Of course, of course. I'll let him know. I'll be back soon."
There wasn't a single moment in James's and Sirius's friendship when the silence between them was so loaded. Peter betrayed them. And Sirius's dumb idea to trust him with the most precious thing nearly got them all killed.
His body was still aching, the potion not taking away all the discomfort, but it wasn't bad enough to distract him from a more profound type of pain, somewhere deep in his soul. It felt infinitely worse than Cruciatus and poisoned daggers.
He didn't need to stay composed anymore to report everything to Dumbledore. The portraits chatting excitedly and the weird sounds in the office stayed at the outskirts of his attention. The adrenaline was wearing off. His focus returned to the damn explosion happening in his mind.
He dropped his head into his hands, his eyes prickling.
"Sirius? Are you alright?" Lily's question seemed to reach him from far away.
"I'm so sorry..." he mumbled. "It's all my fault... You lost your house... You almost died... I should've known..."
The couch dipped next to him. James's hand on his back made him turn to look his best friend in the eye. "I'm really sorry..." he repeated like a mantra.
James placed his hands on either side of Sirius's face, which was wet with tears. "Don't you dare apologize, Sirius," he said fiercely. "You saved our lives. You almost died saving us. But we're all here, and that's all that matters."
"It could've been worse if you were the Secret Keeper, Sirius," Lily pointed out. "Peter would have served you to Voldemort, and we would have been next before we knew what was going on."
"Not to mention," James started, and somehow, Sirius knew he would say something entirely out of place, "We would have lost the opportunity to be saved from Voldemort by a bloody houseplant. It's a story for the ages. One day, Harry will be really proud of us."
"Right. Saved by a Death Eater and a houseplant. What a legacy," Sirius snorted, but the thought of Regulus made him lose the fragile mental balance. He tried to take a deep breath, but it didn't seem to reach his lungs. Tears were leaking out of his treacherous eyes again.
James brought Sirius closer with one arm around his back and another on the back of his head. "A Death Eater, a houseplant, and you. Thank you," he muttered. "And don't worry. We'll figure out what's up with Regulus."
Sirius buried his face in James's shoulder, amazed at how well James could read him. Relief surged through his worn-out body, reaching deep into his bones.
"Godric, it was so close. I'm so glad you're still here," he muttered. He realized he was trembling again, whether it was from exhaustion or a wave of emotion.
James squeezed him tighter before releasing him, though he kept one arm loosely draped over his shoulders. "You need to rest, Pads."
Somehow, Dumbledore was back in the office, walking toward them with quiet grace that made it seem as if he was floating above the silk carpet, his emerald night robe fluttering behind him.
"You've all had quite a night," Dumbledore said, his expression kind. He smoothed his beard. "If you follow the door on the left, you'll find a guest room. I have prepared it for circumstances like this. Feel free to use it. We will regroup in a few hours, when Alastor and Remus are here."
James jolted to his feet. He helped Sirius up before taking Harry from Lily. Sirius marvelled at the kid's calm throughout it all, vowing he would do better to protect him from the bloody prophecy. Before he could stop himself, he leaned to kiss the top of Harry's tiny head.
"Thank you, Dumbledore," James said.
When passing by, Sirius felt a hand on his back. "It's not on you, Sirius," Dumbledore assured quietly. "I should have paid more attention."
Sirius didn't respond. A thought flickered through his mind: It might have been Wormtail's greatest gift that he'd escaped everyone's attention. It was starting to come to him how Peter had been manipulating them in small, seamless ways. A sneaky question about why Remus had been so distant here, a remark about how the Fidelius didn't make sense if Lily and James chose an obvious Secret Keeper there.
Sirius felt a fresh wave of nausea. Now wasn't a good time to ponder it. He dropped his gaze to the floor and continued to the room, his step wobbly.
"Paddy! Paddy!"
Sirius pushed through his muddy dreams, his consciousness reaching for the hope it heard in the voice. He slowly came back to the soft bed in Dumbledore's guest room, rubbing his eyelids. Even barely awake, he could feel they were tender and puffy.
He finally opened his eyes to see Harry staring at him with a wide grin. The kid eagerly reached for him with his tiny hands, his crawl toward Sirius suspended by Lily's hold.
"I'm so sorry, Sirius. We were playing on the floor, and as soon as he noticed you, he started yelling for you and crawling to your bed. I thought he might stop when he sees you," Lily explained. She gently turned Harry to face her. "We'll let Uncle Padfoot get more sleep now, right, Harry?"
Harry shook his head. He bumped into Lily's arm, but it didn't discourage him from his struggle. "Nah! Paddy!"
"It's okay, Lilly. Let him." Sirius raised himself to a half-sitting position and outstretched his arms. "Come here, Little Man."
When Sirius's arms wrapped around Harry's little frame, the boy's fingers examining Sirius's face, it felt like some light returned to the world. He reached for the hand hovering close to his mouth and kissed it. Harry giggled.
Sirius glanced above Harry's head. The room looked a lot like their Gryffindor dormitory, though everything was in beige and brown instead of red and gold. It had four poster beds and a small square table with four chairs. There was a large brass mirror on the wall with one portrait on each side, though their inhabitants were absent.
"Where's James?" Sirius asked. All the other beds were empty, and the door to the bathroom was wide open.
"He couldn't sleep. He went back to the office when Remus came," Lily said. The bags under her eyes suggested she'd barely gotten any rest herself, and Sirius knew it wasn't because of Harry.
He didn't blame her. He was too exhausted to stay awake, but he'd been jumping from one nightmare to another, the reality in between only appearing marginally better.
Harry started kneading the skin on Sirius's cheek, as if it were dough. "What are you up to, kiddo? Do you want Uncle Paddy to become bread?" Harry blinked, confused.
"Well, if you want to eat me, I'll have to eat you first," Sirius declared. He mockingly bared his teeth at Harry. Then, he proceeded to tickle him at his sides. They tossed a bit around the bed, Harry defending himself by kicking his skinny legs furiously.
It was a welcome distraction, though Sirius had to bite back a grimace of pain. A few hours of disturbed sleep weren't enough to recuperate.
"Can I bring you something? Tea? Pain Potion?" Bloody hell. Lily saw right through him.
"Don't worry about it. It's time to get up anyway."
"Fuck," Remus muttered. It was his only comment on James's story.
James couldn't blame him for forgetting his usual wit: what was there to say? "Yeah."
They sat in a tense silence for a long while. James was grateful for the rain pounding outside; the gloom matched their moods perfectly. Despite his brief attempt at sleeping, he felt as if he had spent forever staring at Dumbledore's fireplace, with people coming and going, and herbal tea morphing into fresh coffee. He felt too sick to drink it, but the smell somehow anchored him to reality.
His gaze briefly turned to Remus, who rushed to Hogwarts from a werewolf camp in the South of Wales. If not for the circumstances, James would have made a joke about the dress code at the camp. Remus hadn't shaved for days, and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, a far cry from his usual casual elegance.
"Hey, by the way," James broke the silence, "We would've told you when you came back. About the switch, I mean."
They talked long and hard about it, considering all angles. Would it endanger Remus? Was it an unnecessary risk for them? They even explored the possibility that Remus could be a traitor, though now, James shamefully realized Peter was campaigning for it, playing on Remus's tendency to withdraw.
Ultimately, they worked through their doubts and decided Moony needed to know, but they agreed to wait for the right moment rather than dump it on him in the middle of his mission.
"I would have understood even if you didn't. Unnecessary risks and all that," Remus assured. He lifted his cup of coffee, hesitated, took a small sip, and put it down. "How is Sirius doing?"
"Not bad physically, considering what they did to him," James gulped. "But you know him. He's blaming himself because it was his idea. He didn't even hesitate for a second, Moony... He was ready to die for us. And he still thinks he failed us."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I was so damn scared for him. I heard things, but I had to take the protections off the portkeys for us all to have a fighting chance, and it took so bloody long." He exhaled, trying to deal with a kind of quiet desperation that was settling in his heart. "And when I finally got to him, he... he was barely hanging on, but it was as if he thought he didn't matter at all."
Remus pressed his lips together, looking pensieve. "His thick head, we can deal with. You all got away," his voice faltered. "We'll fix the rest."
As if on a cue, the door opened. Sirius walked in, holding Harry, who apparently didn't want to hear of letting his godfather go, despite Lily's urging. They stopped after a few steps, Sirius's pale face shimmering with sweat.
"Alright, Harry. I know you're excited to see Uncle Paddy, but he's had a hard night. We need to give him space," Lily said firmly, grabbing Harry with more force.
Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but he gave up when he almost toppled over when Lily scooped Harry from his arms. "I'm sure he'll find his way back before you know it," she said.
James restrained himself from getting up to help Sirius to the sofa, even though his best friend looked shitty enough for Remus's forehead to crease with worry.
Lily adjusted Harry on one side, shoved her tangled hair away from her face, and took Sirius by the arm. James thought he'd never loved her more than in this moment, marching forward in the nightgown in which she'd escaped their home, fierce determination and profound sadness both finding space on her face. While broken herself, she did her best to hold their family together.
"Remus. Hey," Sirius muttered. He plopped down on the far end of the sofa, away from everyone. One could think he was speaking to his knees.
"Hi. What's with the distance? Developed a sudden fear of werewolves?" Remus quipped, dividing his attention between Sirius and playing with Harry's hands.
Sirius didn't seem amused. He rubbed his thighs, a rare display of nervousness. James noticed that Remus's gaze instantly went to a hole in his trousers.
"More like a fear of dogs. I hear they can be really fucking dumb." Sirius's words cut deeply into James. They were so connected that he felt Sirius's guilt in his guts, and he knew too well that seeing Remus brought a new shade to it.
"Sirius," Remus said, his voice quiet but adamant.
Sirius turned his head sharply. His eyes burned with shame, and his lip quivered slightly. Lily, who'd joined James on the large armchair, leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Don't Sirius me," Sirius hissed. "You shouldn't even talk to me. Wormtail... He kept going on about how you became distant, how something was up with you. I almost let him poison me, convince me you're a traitor..."
James sighed. He struggled to process it himself. They'd long known someone was passing the information to the other side. Peter turned out to be a master of redirecting attention, inspiring them to suspect Remus. It was brief, and they quickly straightened their heads. But the conversation happened. They could never take it back.
"We're at war. And things are clearly out of hand," Remus replied, not even blinking at the revelation. "He wanted to divide us. And he tried the same with me, Sirius. I can't say I've never entertained the thought..."
A fresh wave of fury crashed through James. He was only realizing the extent to which Peter was playing them, pitting them against each other.
Remus shuffled closer to Sirius on the sofa. "But he failed, Sirius," he continued. "We're all alive. And we're still together." He briefly embraced Sirius and placed a brotherly kiss on his temple. "Thank Merlin, you're still here. I'm bloody grateful I can talk to you."
Sirius exhaled profoundly. "Good to have you back, Moony. Is it forbidden to shave in werewolf camps?" At last, an attempt at humor.
Remus nudged him lightly in the ribs as someone cleared their throat. They were so engrossed in the situation that they missed the door to the office clicking open. Hell, James almost forgot where they were and that Dumbledore was even around. Mad-Eye came with him, and they must have swung by the kitchen, because they were levitating plates with sandwiches and cookies.
"Well, lads and gals, you look like shit," Mad-Eye observed, placing two plates with sweet treats on the table.
They reacted with a unanimous snort.
"We had a run-in with Voldemort. And we're homeless. What's your excuse, Mad-Eye?" James asked. He gently forced Harry to lower his hand. One would think a child would be scared of Mad-Eye, but Harry seemed to be fascinated, joyfully reaching for his eye. James worried it would have been his son's last adventure, prophecy be damned.
Mad-Eye smirked. For a moment, his face appeared even more wrinkled. "Arrogant even in the face of death, Potter. It looks like your son will follow in your footsteps."
"I should hope so," James flashed his teeth.
"Not happening," Lily interjected quickly.
Mad-Eye shook his head, though the corners of his lips curved up again. He threw his coat onto the sofa, and the fresh scent of rain filled the entire space. He didn't immediately sit, pausing in front of Sirius to size him up. Prongs inside James could sense Padfoot's discomfort. He suspected it wasn't the sheer weirdness of the magical eye boring into him. Mad-Eye trained them all, but Sirius was by far the closest to him, seeing him as his real mentor and getting more of his attention. Remus and James always drifted more toward Dumbledore.
Now, Sirius seemed ready for scolding, fingers digging into his legs, though he managed to hold Mad-Eye's gaze.
"You, on the other hand, have never stayed quiet that far into a conversation," Mad-Eye said. He unceremoniously used his cane to flap the fabric of Sirius's torn trousers and take a closer look at his leg. "Keep up, or Potter will fly away on his inflated ego."
Sirius shrugged, which would go down in history as the one time he didn't have a retort ready.
Mad-Eye's forehead scrunched, or at least James thought it did. The scars made it hard to discern. "Are you alright, Black?"
Sirius gave him the thumbs up, though it seemed half-hearted. Not to mention his hands were still a bit shaky.
"Good." Mad-Eye leaned forward to clap him on the arm. Sirius's eyes widened; the gesture was uncharacteristically affectionate. "You did well."
"Don't mock me, Mad-Eye."
"Stop moping, lad. We can never foresee all the circumstances. You did well with what you had."
"We have a safe house ready. I assume it won't be an issue for you to live together," Dumbledore stated, wiping traces of butter and crumbs from his beard. "Also, since all of you need to go into hiding, will you be okay with me as the Secret Keeper?"
Everyone nodded. "Thank you, Dumbledore," Lily said.
After over an hour of ironing things out, James dreamed of lying down. He noticed that, like him, Sirius and Remus didn't even touch the food. It was a relief that nothing could affect Lily's appetite thanks to breastfeeding. She was halfway through her third sandwich.
Sirius cleared his throat. "Uhm, I can't go into hiding just yet."
Mad-Eye's eye snapped to Sirius without the man turning his head, which made Harry squirm with joy. James was slowly coming to terms with his kid being bonkers. "Black, it's not the time to go after Pettigrew. His time will—"
Sirius jumped a little in his seat, clearly annoyed. "I'm not an idiot, Mad-Eye. I won't serve myself to Voldemort to get a shot at revenge."
Dumbledore corrected his half-moon glasses, looking mildly alarmed. He'd never done well with Sirius's unpredictability. "What's this about, then?" For James, this one was rather obvious.
Sirius straightened his back, a grimace of pain flickering through his face. "My brother, Regulus. James, Lily, and Harry are alive thanks to him. And he seems to have gotten, or is expecting to get, himself into trouble with the Death Eaters. I got to try to help him."
"Sirius, he's still a Death Eater. We're all grateful for what he did, but you can't trust him," Dumbledore cautioned.
"I know, Dumbledore. I don't want to betray your trust," Sirius sighed, rubbing his neck. "I realize he's still on the other side. But he's my brother. And his intel saved people who mean more to me than my own life." James's heart jolted. "He as good as said goodbye to both Andromeda and me. Something must be up. I can't just leave him to do something stupid and die."
Dumbledore inclined his head. He clearly wasn't happy with where this was going, but he seemed to acknowledge that it was Sirius's choice.
James squeezed Lily's hand. He was about to blow the conversation up, but, of course, that wouldn't stop him. As he looked at Sirius's pale, determined face, he knew there was no other way. Sirius was family, and he deserved to understand what it meant.
"I'll help," James said decisively.
Sirius gaped, and James wanted to shake him hard because of how little importance he gave to himself. "You won't. You have Harry and Lily to worry about. It's not your problem."
"The hell it isn't my problem, Sirius!" James half-yelled. Harry started crying. James kissed the top of his head and handed him to Lily, giving her an apologetic glance. "Hasn't Regulus just saved my family and me? And even if it weren't so, I'd still do it. Because you are my brother."
Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose. James felt somewhat bad for the man, realizing the day was panning out to be his worst nightmare, something entirely out of his control.
"James, it would be highly irresponsible for you to go out of hiding. With the prophecy about Harry, you have a target on your back," Dumbledore said.
"Let's be honest, we all do. They go after every single Order member. I'm not Harry. It's not my survival that is crucial, and frankly, it's not fair to protect me as if I'm worth more than everyone else."
"Voldemort can use you to get to Harry," Dumbledore argued.
"Doesn't really matter as long as you're the Secret Keeper," Mad-Eye said, grabbing a cookie. "Don't look at me like that, Albus. The lad is right. We're at war. Should we send everyone into hiding? Or are we going by your list of favorites?"
"James, I can—" Remus started. It was a tough spot for him; he hated conflict, and he must have felt that he'd already disappointed Dumbledore, the person who'd done so much for him, with the Animagi revelation. Yet, he paused under James's pointed gaze. He weighed his options for a moment, biting his lip. "I mean, I'll help, too."
James gave him a small smile. He knew that Remus received his wordless message: despite Peter's betrayal, they were still Marauders. Brothers. They didn't abandon each other in need, even if the world was burning under their feet.
Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. "Stop it. We don't even know if Regulus wants help. What if Voldemort pressures him? Nobody needs to take the risk but me. Harry won't lose his father over this."
James puffed his cheeks. He was running out of ideas on how to set Sirius's head straight. Misjudging Peter had done a number on him, and his worst insecurities were coming back in full force.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Sirius. Of course, James has to help you," Lily said. Her face was slightly flushed. "And not just because he's not meant to stay on the sidelines, or because he's about to drive me crazy." She flashed James a glorious, innocent grin. He shrugged. He wasn't too good at sitting on his backside.
"You seem to have some things backwards, Sirius," Lily continued. "You aren't expendable. And if you don't stop acting like you are, I'll steal that dagger and stab you again. Do you know how much it killed me to leave you there last night? I had no choice, but this is different. We're in this together, and nobody is letting you run to danger alone."
The moment James was sure she finished, he gently grabbed her face and kissed her. "I love you," he whispered.
"Love you too. But you'd better be careful. I agree with Sirius on one thing: Harry's not losing his father over this."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. They pulled apart hastily, as if someone caught them snogging at school. "I suppose I also might have had some things backwards. I apologize for failing to appreciate your greatest strength. It was pure convenience, which is unbecoming of me, especially in times like this. Perhaps this is how we move forward, together."
Mad-Eye grunted to announce he also had something to say. "When you're all done being soppy, do let me know the plan. I'm in."
"You're what?" Sirius asked.
"Well, Black, you know how I spend my time, don't you? I trail people who lead me nowhere. I do damage control, which I'm not complaining about, because it saves lives. I train people, knowing most of them will never get good enough to defend themselves. Let me be blunt, I rarely see an opportunity to bring us closer to winning this damn war. And who can do better? Our only man on the inside," Mad-Eye replied, instantly making James wonder who it was, "is low-ranking. Your brother clearly knows more. If there's a chance to turn him, getting to him should be a priority."