Chapter Seven: Innocence
In retrospect, Remus decided that his biggest mistake was thinking “Thank God, I made it through the school year.” He should have put off thinking that until the school year was actually over. The last week didn’t count. There was still plenty that could go wrong in one week.
All he had to do was grade his exams. Since most of the tests were field exams of some sort, they’d been graded on the spot and the students had been told how they’d done. The higher years had gotten written exams as well, but those wouldn’t be difficult to correct.
He was actually fairly pleased with himself, or at least as pleased as he ever got. The end of the school year had been more like the beginning: fewer disasters and less pain. He put Sirius in the back of his mind and thought about him as little possible. The Maurauder’s Map was neatly rolled and stuck into one of his drawers.
Now, however, he was considering getting it out. He was sure that Harry was going to attempt to sneak down to see Hagrid. The reason he was so sure of that was because it was exactly something like James would have done. He decided he had best get out the map and keep tabs on them. If anything went awry, he’d probably be able to tell.
Boring work, really, sitting there staring at the map. They walked down to the hut and stayed there for about twenty minutes. Remus watched, bored out of his skull, as four dots labeled Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Peter Pettigrew left Hagrid’s hut. He yawned and considered getting some tea.
Then he blinked.
Looked again.
Blinked again.
Kept looking.
He had been so caught up in the entire comparison between James and Harry that at first it hadn’t struck him as odd in the slightest that Peter would be there with them. Then the part of his brain that monitored present events kicked in, and Remus remembered that Peter Pettigrew was definitely, permanently dead.
But the Maurauder’s Map never lied.
“There . . . there must be some other student here . . .” Remus said out loud to himself, trying to convince himself. He knew it wasn’t true. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a required class. He had met all the students. He didn’t necessarily know them all by name, but he would certainly remember if one had been named Peter Pettigrew.
“It must just be malfunctioning or something . . .” Remus muttered. He tapped it a few times with his wand, as if willing the dot that signified Peter to disappear. “Peter can’t be here. Dead people don’t come back from the dead. It’s just impossible.” He realized his voice was shaking. “Totally impossible.”
His eyes were caught by a new dot, neatly labeled ‘Sirius Black.’ He watched, half-dumbfounded and half-horrified as the new dot met up with others.
If someone died, their dot disappeared from the map. Remus knew this to be true; they had designed it that way, even though he’d never actually seen it happen. But none of the dots disappeared. Sirius apparently grabbed Ron and Peter and dragged them under the Whomping Willow.
Without even thinking, Remus ran out of the room, holding his wand to the ready. He knew where Sirius was going; he could think as he ran.
Somehow, it all came back to Ron. Sirius hadn’t made a mistake when he’d been standing over Ron’s bed with the knife. He hadn’t gotten the wrong bed as everyone, including Remus, had assumed. He had been after Ron all along.
Except that made no sense.
And Remus remembered suddenly, remembered with a force that nearly made him stagger.
“Ron has a bloody pet rat!”
As he continued to run, he continued to remember; Ron had been complaining once that his rat was ill. Then, a few weeks later, the rat had disappeared. Eaten, it was presumed, by Hermione’s cat. Remus couldn’t help but remember; Ron and Hermione had been spitting mad at each other. It was impossible to ignore.
They had never found Peter’s body; it had been assumed that the force of the curse had destroyed it. But that was just because no one, outside of Sirius and Remus at that point, had known he was an Animagus. He could easily have turned into a rat and run away before Sirius had been able to catch him.
And if Sirius hadn’t killed Peter . . .
That meant it was very likely he had never been a traitor to begin with.
Remus had to pause to catch his breath. He was still missing a few very vital pieces. Sirius had been James’ Secret-Keeper, he was the only one who could have divulged that information. Remus didn’t understand what Peter could possibly have had to do with that.
All he could hope was that he got to the Shrieking Shack before anything untoward happened.
“God, I’m such a bloody idiot,” he moaned, picking up a stick and prodding at the Whomping Willow until it stopped moving. Harry had even mentioned once that Ron’s rat was extremely old. Then again, Remus supposed, you couldn’t go around assuming every rat you saw was a friend of yours who was supposed to be dead.
And even if Peter wasn’t dead, what about the other people who had died that day? They were all still equally dead. Sirius had still killed all them. But then, why had Peter remained as a rat for the next twelve years?
Remus reached the end of the tunnel and ran through the house. Dimly, he could hear someone shrieking as he pounded up the stairs. He pushed open the door and took stock of the situation in one brief glance. Ron was lying on the floor, looking slightly green but otherwise unharmed. Hermione was hiding in a corner of the room. Harry was standing with his wand pulled out, held over Sirius, who had a cat crouched on his chest.
Oh, God, Sirius . . .
No time to think or question. Remus disarmed everyone efficiently and caught everyone’s wands. Then he stopped to take a second just to catch his breath.
He walked over to Sirius, trying not to stare so obviously. Sirius looked even worse than he had in the papers. His face was bloody and bruised; his eyes sunken and hollow. Remus had to swallow twice before managing to speak. First things first. “Where is he, Sirius?”
Everyone stared at Sirius as he pointed at Ron.
All right. That made sense. Ron was still carrying the rat. It was his rat, after all. Just not technically a rat.
Remus tried to think. There was still that huge piece, looming outside the range of his comprehension. “But then . . . why hasn’t he shown himself before now?” It was there, he could practically see it, he was so close to figuring it out. Why would Peter have hidden for twelve years while Sirius was in Azkaban? “Unless . . .”
There had to be an ‘unless.’ There simply had to be. Remus would have bet his heart and soul on Sirius’ innocence if it hadn’t been so clearly obvious that he had killed Peter. Peter wasn’t dead, but James and Lily had still been betrayed.
And then the missing piece dropped into his mind and he nearly fell over. “Unless he was the one . . . unless you switched . . . without telling me?” That would explain everything. Peter had been the Secret-Keeper, Peter had betrayed Lily and James, Peter had killed the twelve other people and then turned into a rat and left, leaving Sirius to be blamed. It was so bloody obvious now that he knew that he was amazed he’d never thought of it before.
Sirius stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, then very slowly nodded.
Relief swept over Remus, relief and sheer joy, nearly making him cry right there in front of everyone. Everything could wait, any explanations or further details could wait, all he wanted was Sirius in his arms again. So he did just that, lowering his wand and striding across the room. He pulled Sirius to his feet and embraced him, holding him so tightly he was worried that he might cut off circulation.
The world paused for just a second, and Remus wasn’t aware of anything else, just the fact that Sirius was his again, they could be together, somehow he knew they would fix everything. He hid his single tear in Sirius’ shoulder, then whispered five simple words in Sirius’ ear before letting him go and turning to face the other three.
“I never stopped loving you.”
****
Sirius Black was used to silence. The only noise that was ever in Azkaban was the occasional moan or wail of another prisoner. Those noises were hardly nice to hear, so he far preferred the silence over him. And now he was sitting, calmly, hardly believing he was so calm, waiting for his soul to be sucked out through his mouth.
The door creaked open. Sirius jumped what felt like twenty feet in the air. But there were no dementors, no guards . . . just Dumbledore.
“Sirius,” he said gravely, inclining his head.
Sirius fumbled for words. There had to be some way he could make Dumbledore understand. Dumbledore always had a way to fix everything; this couldn’t possibly be any different. “Professor Dumbledore . . . I . . . I didn’t . . . I never killed any of them, I swear to you . . . Remus can tell you . . . Harry and his friends can tell you, they were there, it was Peter, they saw him . . .”
“Sirius,” Dumbledore said quietly. “There is not much time. Whatever explanations you have, gather yourself together and give them quickly and clearly.”
Sirius took a deep breath. Tried to center himself. Thought of freedom, of being alive again. After a second, he felt calmer. He opened his mouth, started at the beginning, and explained everything. At the end, he took a deep breath, then whispered, “Do you believe me?”
“They say truth is stranger than fiction, Sirius,” Dumbledore said. “That’s probably the most creative thing I’ve ever heard, excepting the excuse you gave Professor McGonagall in your fifth year when you didn’t finish your Transfiguration Exam in the allotted time.”
Sirius blinked at him.
“You probably don’t remember,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “I’m sure Azkaban sucks out most of the good memories. Never mind, in any case. I do believe your story, mostly because there is little point in telling a story that long and complex when there were four witnesses whom you depend on. And also, Sirius, I never wanted to believe you were the traitor. It never felt right. But there was no basis for that feeling.”
Sirius let out a sigh of relief.
“However,” Dumbledore said, “there is no proof of any of this.”
Sirius looked up. “Please -- I’ll take Veritaserum -- ”
Dumbledore shook his head. “Many servants of Voldemort were able to defy the effects of it. People will simply say you are doing the same.”
“There must be some way . . .” Sirius whispered.
Dumbledore was silent a long moment, looking out the window. “I believe there may be a way,” he said slowly. “I will speak to some people.” He looked at Sirius closely. “Believe me, if there is any way I can stop this, I will.”
Sirius nodded. His eyes were burning with unshed tears. “Please . . . if there’s no way . . . can you give Remus a message for me?”
“Of course,” Dumbledore said quietly.
“Just tell him . . . I love him very much . . . and I never forgot about him. Not even in Azkaban.”
Dumbledore regarded him silently for a minute. “Is that true? That you never forgot him?”
Sirius closed his eyes. “No,” he whispered. “But I don’t want him to know that.”
“Last words should never be a lie, Sirius.”
Sirius looked away, his eyes haunted. “I don’t remember what it is to love anymore,” he said softly. “I don’t remember what it feels like. I know I loved Remus, but when I look at him now . . . I feel so empty. I don’t know if I can ever . . . be with him again. The way we were before.”
“These things need time, Sirius,” Dumbledore replied. “People who have been in Azkaban for lengths of time have spoken of the same thing. Feeling returns slowly, but it does return. And given Remus’ stubborn propensity to continue loving you even though you were judged guilty of murder and betrayal, and given a life sentence in Azkaban, I’m sure he’ll be able to stay with you through this.”
Sirius managed a wan smile.
“I must go now,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll do my best to save you, Sirius. Don’t give up hope just yet.”
Sirius nodded and watched him go, his eyes dull. He wanted desperately to believe what Dumbledore was saying. But as he didn’t remember how to love, neither did he remember how to hope.
Ten minutes later, he heard a tapping at his window.
****
Remus awoke slowly. He had a headache. And his face was squashed into something. He realized, after a moment, that it was the ground. He sat up and rubbed his face blearily. His robes were tattered and torn and practically hanging off him. His memory was blurry and patchy.
Something was tugging at his brain. Something he ought to remember. Something about Sirius . . . and Harry . . . and Peter . . .
“Jesus Christ,” Remus said. He staggered to his feet and started to run towards the castle. As he ran, he inwardly berated himself for forgetting to take his potion. He didn’t know how he could possibly have been that stupid.
Well, no. That wasn’t true. The minute he’d realized Sirius was possibly innocent, all other thoughts had been wiped clean from his brain. And it was a good thing he’d left when he did, or Harry might have really managed to kill Sirius. Well, he doubted that, but it still might have gone badly. And he couldn’t exactly have darted into Snape’s office on his way by and gotten a drink of Wolfsbane.
But still, what on earth had happened? His memory stopped as soon as he began to transform. At least, he noted dryly, he could tell from the gnawing hunger that he hadn’t eaten anything while in werewolf form.
He skidded into the castle and ran full force for Dumbledore’s office, gaining quite a few odd stares. He practically flew around a corner and collided with someone full force, going sprawling. He hauled himself to his feet, gasping for breath, and looked down to see Snape, viewing him with more animosity than ever.
Animosity was a good thing. Animosity from Snape meant that Sirius might be all right. Of course, Snape had plenty of reason to be angry at them after what had happened the previous night, but if Sirius had been caught again, Snape would have been dancing with glee. “Severus,” Remus gasped out. “Where’s Sirius?”
Snape got to his feet in a slow and dignified manner, then brushed himself off. “That doesn’t concern you, Lupin.”
“Then get out of my way.” Remus shoved past him and forced himself to walk down the two remaining corridors. Snape trailed him, apparently finding his flustered state amusing. Remus stopped outside Dumbledore’s office and looked at the gargoyle. “Lemon drop.”
It didn’t move.
“Password’s changed,” Snape informed him casually. “Don’t you pay attention to anything, Lupin?”
Remus turned, so angry his hands were shaking. “Tell me what the password is or tell me where Sirius is. I don’t care which.”
“I already said, it’s none of your concern.”
“You bloody bastard,” Remus managed, his voice trembling. “Where the hell is Sirius?”
“You think I’m going to tell you?” Snape hissed. “You were helping him all along, after all those pretty little speeches about how you hated him, I saw how you were looking at him last night. The children may not have noticed, but I did. Get out of my sight, Lupin, and get out of this school. Everyone knows you’re a werewolf now. You have no place here any longer.”
“You told them,” Remus said flatly.
“I may have happened to let it slip,” Snape said, with an arrogant smirk.
Remus laughed. “Don’t you get it, Snape? I don’t care who knows I’m a werewolf. Right now, that is taking up approximately one percent of my concern.”
“Oh?” Snape asked. “And what’s the other ninety-nine percent?”
“That’s all taken up with exactly what horrible things I’m going to do to you if you don’t tell me where Sirius is right now.”
Snape’s lips twisted in a sneer. “You don’t scare me, Lupin. You’ve never scared me.”
“Oh, yes I did,” Remus said quietly. “Don’t think I’m not aware of why you never physically came after me while we were in school together. You’d try to push Sirius and James around, but never me. Too afraid that someday when I was a werewolf, I would remember and come after you.”
Sirius turned white, then red. “That had nothing to do with it,” he snarled.
“Sure it didn’t,” Remus snapped. “I knew. You envied James and you loathed Sirius, but you were always afraid of me. And that’s why you always hated me more than them. Now either tell me where Sirius is, or tell me how to get into Dumbledore’s office, then get the hell out of my sight.”
Snape stared at him for a minute, hatred twisting his face. Then he spat out, “cockroach cluster,” and turned and stomped away.
The gargoyle opened up and Remus darted into Dumbledore’s office. For a panicked minute, he thought that after all that, Dumbledore wasn’t there. But then Dumbledore emerged from behind a stack of books. “Ah, Remus. Sit down. I’ve been expecting you.”
Remus didn’t sit. “Where’s Sirius?”
“He’s gone, Remus. Please sit.”
“Gone? Gone, how?” Remus sank into the chair Dumbledore indicated.
“He escaped,” Dumbledore said. “There was no proof of his story, or he would have stayed. As it was, he had to flee for his life.”
Remus swallowed hard. “Please -- tell me what happened.”
Dumbledore related the story as Sirius had told it to him while Remus listened, his fists clenched in his lap. Then he went on to add how Harry and Hermione had rescued Sirius.
“Oh,” Remus said faintly. “That’s why Severus was so angry.”
“Ah, yes, Severus is not in a very good mood right now.” Dumbledore cleared his throat. “He did tell the Slytherins you are a werewolf, you know.”
“I know,” Remus said. “It doesn’t really matter.”
Dumbledore gave him a long, steady look. “You’re going, then?”
Remus nodded and managed a weary smile. “Severus will probably never know what a big favor he did for me. If I’d just left, everyone would think I was chasing after Sirius, and no one knows he’s innocent but us. Now I can ‘resign’, and go back to my lonely life in London.”
Dumbledore smiled. “Speak to Harry before you go. He’ll miss you.”
Remus nodded. “I will. I’ll miss him too.” He sighed a little. “He’s so much like James, just looking at him . . .”
Dumbledore nodded, his face suddenly very somber. “I know.”
“Did Sirius say where he was going?” Remus asked.
“No,” Dumbledore said. “He did not.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll send me a message of some sort,” Remus said.
“He may not, Remus,” Dumbledore said quietly. When Remus blinked at him, he hastened to explain. “You must understand what Sirius is going through right now. If you’ll allow me to use a metaphor, it’s as if Sirius has been inside an extremely dark closet for twelve years. Now he’s finally free to walk in daylight again. And it blinds him, Remus. The light hurts his eyes. He spent so long with the dementors that he no longer remembers what it’s like to be happy. You’re going to have to be very patient with him, and I think he’s afraid that you won’t be.”
“But . . . of course I would be . . .” Remus whispered.
“You know that, and so do I,” Dumbledore said. “But Sirius has grown accustomed to thinking negatively. You can help him, Remus, and I hope you do. But I don’t think he’ll contact you on his own.”
Remus nodded. “I’ll find him, then. And . . . Professor Dumbledore . . . I’m sorry.”
Dumbledore raised one silver eyebrow. “For what?”
“I . . . betrayed your trust,” Remus said quietly. “I should have told you he was an Animagus. I should have told you that he could have been getting in that way. I should have given you the map.”
Dumbledore rested a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Yet if you had, Sirius would have been caught, perhaps killed.”
Remus looked at the floor.
“The reason you never told me those things,” Dumbledore said, “was because deep down, you believed Sirius was innocent.”
“I never -- ” Remus protested.
Dumbledore cut him off with a swift shake of his head. “I’m not saying you thought this on any conscious level. It was buried far too deep within you for you to be aware of that. But I don’t think it was because you loved him, or because you didn’t want him to be guilty. I think it was simply because you knew him so well, that your heart was unable to believe it.”
Remus said nothing.
Dumbledore sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, Remus, you are not accustomed to listening to your heart. You should try to do so more often . . . you’ll be surprised at what you might hear.”
Remus managed a hesitant smile. “I’ll give Sirius three days . . . and if he hasn’t contacted me by then . . . I’ll go get him myself.”
“Good luck, Remus. I think we’ll see each other again.”
Remus nodded. Then he frowned. “Professor, when Sirius explained to you what had happened . . . did he mention why he never told anyone why he and Peter switched places?”
Dumbledore gave Remus a grave look. “You think he didn’t trust you.”
Remus nodded slowly. “And he . . . agreed. When we spoke yesterday.”
“But it doesn’t feel right, does it,” Dumbledore said.
Remus shook his head.
“That’s your heart trying to speak up again,” Dumbledore said. “I suggest you listen to it. There are far different reasons behind Sirius’ logic, but I doubt it was something he wanted to go into in front of all the others. If you ask him, he will explain.”
Remus nodded again. “All right.” He stood up to go. “And . . . thank you. For everything.”
****
Part Eight
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