Secrets and Scars
‘Hang on Harry, give me a minute and I'll call you back.’
Remus opened one eye, closing it again quickly as he registered the brightness of the room. ‘Mnn’ he groaned, turning back into his pillow, ‘What’s the time?’
He felt Sirius' cool hand on his forehead, and then his cheek.
‘Stay asleep, Moons. I'll be back in a sec.’
The bed springs creaked as Sirius rolled to the edge, clothes rustled, the door opened and closed. Remus burrowed downwards under the covers and went back to sleep.
When he woke again, the room was dark and Sirius was gone. He rolled over, slowly, limbs aching and pushed himself up against the headboard. He hadn't been this sore after a moon for a while. They'd decided, after much deliberation, not to use the potion this month, feeling that maybe a good run was what they needed - that perhaps it would relieve some of the stress that they'd been under. But Remus had grown increasingly anxious about it as the moon had approached, as he felt the restlessness of the wolf rising within him. They’d apparated back to Westwood Forest, in search of the same relief they’d felt in February, but, lying here now, a full day wasted in bed, Remus knew they hadn’t found it. He rubbed at his eyes, stretching his fingers out before him and rolling his shoulders as he scooted towards the edge of the bed.
He found Sirius at the kitchen table, bent low over one of Regulus’ books. He looked up as Remus approached, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.
‘Morning,’ he said softly.
‘It’s dark outside.’
‘It seemed like you needed the sleep.’
Remus slid onto the bench beside him, reaching for the teapot which was steaming gently in the centre of the table, wincing as he extended his arm.
‘Bit of a rough one.’ Sirius said, lifting the teapot himself, and filling the empty mug beside it, ‘Moony seemed - tense.’
‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I thought I had it under control.’
Sirius added milk to the mug and pushed it towards him, looking up at him as he did so, reaching one hand out to brush his sleep-tousled hair from his forehead. He left his hand there, cupped gently around Remus’ cheek, thumb stroking the dark circle under his eye. Remus let his eyelids flutter closed and for a moment, pretended they were somewhere else, somewhere safe -
‘Let me get you some dinner,’ Sirius murmured, without removing his hand, ‘You must be starving.’
Remus sighed, bringing his own hand up to hold Sirius’ in place, trying to make the moment last a little longer. He really was hungry, but he laced their fingers together momentarily before Sirius rose from the table, returning with a plate of roast lamb and all the trimmings.
‘Kreacher left it for you,’ Sirius said with a shrug, ‘Apparently he celebrates Easter.’
‘Oh, sure.’
‘He got those as well,’ Sirius added, nodding to two huge shining oval parcels on the dresser, ‘Merlin knows why, Walburga never sent him out for Easter eggs growing up.’
He turned back to the book, and Remus watched him, chewing slowly at his lamb.
‘Found anything in there?’
‘Maybe,’ Sirius said, ‘A lot of these are potions notes - I wonder if he was brewing things for Voldemort. Some of these are ways to make potions more effective, but some seem to be ideas to reduce potency, or make them take longer to brew.’
‘You think he was stalling for time?’
‘I don't know. Maybe just experimenting with dosages but -’
‘Why else write in code?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Horcruxes?’
‘Not yet but there's a lot of nasty stuff here - lot of poisons that wouldn't have looked like poison - I just have a feeling he was doing stuff, behind the scenes -’ Sirius turned the page, ‘Also half of it is in bloody Latin first, which I can't do without a dictionary,’ he sighed and rubbed at his eyes, ‘I had no idea - I always assumed he was just -’
Sirius tailed off, shaking his head and biting at his thumbnail. Remus looked at him sadly, ‘I’m sorry I've been out of action today, I'll help properly tomorrow. We'll just go through them one by one. If there's anything to find we’ll find it.’
Sirius nodded, closing his eyes and then the book and pushing it away from him across the table. ‘Harry called earlier,’ he said.
‘He ok? Did he get his egg?’
‘Yeah, he said to say thanks,’ Sirius nodded, eyes on the fire that crackled softly in the grate, ‘The Tournament's back on, they've found someone to cover for Karkaroff. He doesn't have the details yet but the third task is set for the end of June.’
Remus’ stomach dropped. With everything that had happened since the second task, a third had seemed unthinkable - or at least, he hadn’t had any space to really think about it. Why couldn't they catch a break?
‘He really doesn't want to do it,’ Sirius said, ‘He’s got so much on his plate. He spent half the call worrying about homework and then just dropped in at the end how tired he is after his training sessions. It's all wrong - I just - it's too much. He's just a kid.’ Sirius pulled anxiously at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, ‘Albus has got him up there three times a week, doing all kinds of magic a fourteen year old has no business knowing, and he won't even let him come home for the holidays. It's not fair. It's not OK - he's my - I've got to help him, Moony. We can't leave it like this -’
‘But the prophecy?’
Sirius scratched at his face for a moment, fingers searching for something to claw at, coming to a rest over his ears, as if he couldn't bear to hear any more. Remus put down his fork and watched as Sirius stared unseeingly at the fire that was dying in the grate. He looked so tired, no sign of the tinge of pink that had tentatively begun to bloom in his cheeks some time around Christmas. Remus wondered if it had ever been there at all.
‘Maybe it was wrong?’ Sirius said, his voice strained. ‘Trelawney’s an old fraud, everyone knows that. And things change all the time. Divination is wildly imprecise -’
‘I don't know, Sirius, you saw the memory. That looked like a real prediction -’ he faltered as Sirius' eyes slid from the fire, meeting his.
‘Well fuck the prophecy then! It can fuck off.’
Remus bit his lip. He didn't disagree, not even a little bit, but he couldn't see how they could -
‘Maybe if we just get a little bit more prepared. We can go through these books, see how Albus thinks the training is going -’
‘We have no idea if there's anything to find in these!’ Sirius said, loudly, shoving roughly at the stack of precious notebooks he had piled carefully beside him. They slid messily across the table. ‘What if it's all just potions? What if the locket was an absolute fluke? This wasn't the plan - we agreed - steal the cup, kill the snake, help Harry. Teaching him a few spells and sending him to face Voldemort? How is that a strategy?’
Sirius was breathing heavily as he pushed his fingers into his eyes once more. Remus felt frozen to his seat as he watched him. What could be say? What could he do?
‘We can't let it happen. We can't. We can't destroy the cup because Harry's not ready? Of course he's not. He's a kid. He’ll never be ready. But I am. I'm ready. I say we destroy that cup, let the bastard come for us and then we do it. We kill him. Hell, Albus should do it if he's such a great wizard.’
Sirius inhaled shakily and lowered his hands, gripping the edge of the table. He turned to Remus with eyes wide, desperate, pleading. He was right, of course. Suddenly Remus couldn't remember why they'd ever thought there might be any other option.
‘I don't know why we keep doing what he tells us,’ Sirius went on, ‘Every time we're up there it's something new, some other excuse. We made a mistake when we didn't run. We should - we should have…’
Sirius’ voice caught in his throat and his eyes moved back to the fireplace. Just embers now, the kitchen was getting cold. Remus watched the last flickers of firelight reflecting in Sirius’ eyes, and felt his panic. They had done what they were told, again, as they always had. And they'd got it wrong.
‘OK,’ Remus said, nodding, ‘OK. Give me one more night of sleep, and tomorrow morning we go to Hogwarts, get that cup back.’
Sirius looked back at him and his eyes softened just a fraction. Relief, maybe, Remus thought, as Sirius brought his hands up again, both of them this time, cupping Remus’ face. He held it for a few moments, rough thumbs brushing lightly along his cheeks.
‘I love you.’
*
The next morning saw them back again, sitting in their usual seats in Dumbledore's office.
‘Let's try and stay calm about it,’ Remus had said, nervously as they'd made their way, hand in hand, up the long drive. ‘We want him to take us seriously, we've got to make him understand that we're serious-’
‘Yeah well I'll keep the shouting to a minimum if you make sure you don't blow anything up.’
‘Fair enough.’
Now that they were here though, Remus doubted either of them would be keeping their promises.
‘We’ve discussed it,’ Sirius was saying, tone already a little dangerous, ‘And we’re not satisfied that this is the most sensible plan of action. We understand what you're saying about this prophecy, but, with all due respect, Harry is a child and this just isn't appropriate.’
Remus watched as Dumbledore observed Sirius carefully, his eyes bright and thoughtful.
‘Like you said at the Order meeting,’ Sirius continued, ‘Time is of the essence. We are in a good position now: if we destroy the cup, Voldemort is likely to reveal himself, and then we can take him out, and the snake - there are enough skilled wizards in the Order. This is the most viable option. Waiting just gives him more time to regain strength, to start on the offensive.’
Dumbledore inclined his head very slightly as he prepared to answer and for a second Remus thought he'd been convinced.
‘I’m afraid it's not that simple, Sirius,’ Dumbledore replied, ‘You forget that our theory about the snake is just speculation -’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Remus said, flushing suddenly hot in the cool office, ‘That’s not what you were saying before. You dangled it in front of us like the final piece of the puzzle -’
‘And we can't be sure how Voldemort will react. What if we destroy the cup, alert him to our quest and he doesn't respond as predicted -’
‘You know he'll call the Death Eaters to him though,’ Sirius retorted, narrowing his eyes, ‘And you've got your little spy all ready to go. He can tell us where they are -’
Dumbledore paused, his expression infuriatingly mild.
‘If the prophecy is to be believed -’
‘What if it isn't? The prophecy is bullshit. If Snape hadn't been lurking outside that door, Voldemort wouldn't have even known he had anyone to try and get rid of! If Snape had heard the whole thing he might have been much more careful about “marking someone as his equal!”’
‘But the fact of the matter remains -’
‘No,’ Sirius said, ‘Don’t give me any more of that. We haven't come here to negotiate.’
Dumbledore sighed and clasped his hands in front of him.
‘Sirius -’
‘What is the problem?’ Remus snapped. He could feel the heat coursing through him now - perhaps they should've waited a little longer after the full moon for such an intense conversation - ‘What is it you're not telling us now?’
Sirius looked at him, eyebrows raised, as if to remind him of their discussion on the drive, but it was too late. Remus inhaled, sitting forward in his chair:
‘Your plan is insane. You want to send a child, who will, at best, have a few months worth of duelling tuition under his belt off to battle the most fearsome dark wizard since Grindelwald. Our plan is reasonable: to send a task force of experienced and talented adults, including you, the last person to defeat a megalomaniac of this scale - and yet you continually try to fob us off with excuses about a prophecy? Made by someone with very suspect credentials might I add - no disrespect to Sybill - but come on, Albus. We're not morons. What are you not telling us?’
He glanced at Sirius, who was looking at him nervously, biting hard on his lip. He turned back to Dumbledore, expectant.
‘Well? Every time we've been here there's been some new revelation. Some secret you've been sitting on. Tell us what the problem is.’
Dumbledore continued to stare back at him and for an infinitesimal moment, Remus thought he saw a hint of discomfort in the Headmaster's eyes.
‘Tell us,’ Sirius said, quietly, ‘Albus, at this point, surely we have a right to know? Surely we've proved ourselves?’
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, pushing his half moon spectacles back up his nose before letting his hands drop into his lap. He looked down at them for a long moment, before tilting his chin up to face them. He sighed.
‘The night that Harry destroyed the first Horcrux,’ he began, ‘He was able to gain access to the Chamber of Secrets by speaking Parseltongue, an unusual talent that he did not know he possessed.’
Remus glanced at Sirius, who was watching Dumbledore intently.
‘Last summer, you came to me to tell me that Harry had had a dream, in which he had witnessed Voldemort murder the caretaker at his father's house - the same one you searched - in which you found evidence that the events likely happened exactly as Harry saw them.’
Remus nodded, they knew both of these things already -
‘I have come to believe,’ Dumbledore said slowly, ‘That on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Voldemort’s already deeply unstable soul, and caused another fragment of it to be blasted apart from the whole. This soul fragment latched itself onto the only living creature left in that collapsed building -’
Sirius made a strange choking noise and Dumbledore hesitated, his expression grave as he looked between them.
‘Are you saying -’ Remus could feel his chest tightening in panic. He tried to take a deep breath, to make sure he understood -
‘Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort’s mind. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die.’
‘But -’ Remus struggled to take a breath, to form a thought, ‘But - wait - what are you saying?’
Sirius hadn't moved. He was still staring fixedly at Dumbledore.
‘I’m saying that -’
‘He’s saying that everything we have done is pointless,’ Sirius rasped, in a voice that chilled Remus to the bone. ‘He means that while we've been hunting all over, dragging these foul relics from the depths of Merlin-knows-where, destroying them one by one, feeling like we're getting closer to the end, he has sat here, safe in his office, knowing that the whole operation is pointless. Because the last Horcrux is in Harry and we - we can't - how could you?’ Sirius made to stand, stumbling slightly as he rose, his expression one of disbelief.
Remus watched as his eyes darted nervously from the Headmaster to the fireplace, and then the door, measuring the distances. He could feel the fury radiating from him, the magic that was building in his clenched fists.
‘But Harry is not a Horcrux,’ Remus said, slowly, surprised at how steadily he said the words. He shook his head slightly, and looked to Dumbledore for confirmation. ‘He can't be. You told us what it said in that book - about the ritual - the preparation of the vessel, the encasing of the fragment. Horcrux creation requires very specific intent - what we're talking about here is accidental -’
Dumbledore smiled weakly, ‘Ever the good student, Remus,’ he said quietly. ‘However, whatever the method, a portion of soul still resides within Harry - and if Voldemort is to be vanquished-’
‘So we get it out,’ Sirius said, as if the solution was obvious, ‘We get the soul fragment out of Harry. Simple.’
He turned to Dumbledore, who stared, unblinkingly back.
‘We can get it out? Right?’ Sirius said, again, ‘There must be a way? A spell? A potion?’
Dumbledore hesitated before he spoke once more, ‘Once the portion of soul is bonded to the vessel, only destruction of the vessel can-’
The inkwell on Dumbledore's desk exploded.
*
Remus hadn't meant to fall asleep. They had Floo-ed back to Grimmauld early afternoon, after demanding access to every book in Hogwarts containing any hint of information about Horcruxes. Dumbledore had obliged, if only to stop them destroying his office: following Remus’ loss of control, Sirius had allowed himself his own outburst. ‘What was your plan?’ he'd roared, ‘Let him think he could win? Lead him out there like a lamb to the slaughter?’
Sirius had stormed out of the front door the moment they had arrived in the Floo, Remus reaching the top step just in time to catch the flick of a black tail turning the corner at the end of the road. He'd taken the small stack of books to the sitting room, placing them beside the pile of Reg’s school books, meaning to make a start, as he had promised Sirius; but the moon, and the morning, caught up with him.
When he awoke his limbs were stiff and the room was dark. He pulled himself up slowly, reaching for his wand and lighting the lamps. He sat for a moment, the pain in his chest leaving him unable to feel the comfort of the soft red sofa beneath him. The door to the sitting room was open, but the house was quiet. He made his way down the hall to the kitchen.
‘Sirius?’ he called as he opened the door.
He climbed the stairs slowly, wandering down the hallway to the library, but it was dark and quiet. Maybe Sirius was upstairs. Maybe he was still out. Remus was headed back to the staircase, when he heard it, a tiny noise, a sniff, a whimper. He pushed open Harry’s bedroom door.
Padfoot was curled at the foot of Harry's bed, his black fur stark against the pale purple of the duvet cover, his head tucked beneath one shaggy paw. He didn’t move as Remus approached, sitting down beside him and running one hand down his back.
‘Hey,’ he murmured, leaning against the wall, his hand resting gently in the dark fur. The dark circles that had returned under Sirius' eyes weren't discernable in this form, and Remus could feel more certainly the weight he had gained since the summer. The strength. He hoped it would be enough.
‘C’mon Pads,’ he said, his hand moving through the soft fur, ‘I know it's too hard, too much - but - I need you -’
Padfoot whimpered again, burrowing his nose into Remus’ thigh.
‘Come on,’ Remus said again, ‘We’ve got work to do, come on. Sirius, come back to me.’
And suddenly there he was.
‘Sorry,’ Sirius croaked, his head on Remus’ shoulder, ‘I’m sorry -’
‘No no,’ Remus replied, pulling him close. ‘No sorry.’
‘How could he?’ Sirius said, voice muffled against his chest, ‘Did he think he could keep it from us? Use us to destroy the Horcruxes and then let Harry die?’
Remus said paused, Dumbledore had said he had been looking for a way to solve it -
‘He said he was looking for a way -’
‘Doesn’t seem like he's looking very hard though, does it?’ Sirius’ fists were balled in Remus’ jumper.
Remus closed his eyes, replaying the last few minutes of their afternoon conversation in his head. ‘I couldn't be sure until his vision - if Lily's protection remains, Voldemort may still be unable to touch Harry himself, so someone else will have to - it is possible there is another option, but the destruction of the soul fragment may depend on the destruction of the vessel -’ He pushed it from his mind, still ignoring the invisible hands that squeezed at his heart. He didn’t dare entertain the thought -
‘It doesn't matter,’ Remus said, ‘Because we're going to find it, we're going to find the way.’
‘We just got him back. We made him a room,’ Sirius said, helplessly as he pulled himself up, his face was red, sore-looking. Remus brushed his dark hair gently with his fingers, releasing the strands that were stuck to his cheeks.
‘We’re going to find a way,’ he said again, ‘Come on, let’s make a start.’
They moved everything back to the kitchen, laying the books out in a long line down the middle of the table. Sirius began at one end, continuing through the notebooks he had already started, Remus at the other with the Hogwarts texts, Dumbledore’s undamaged copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art top of the pile. He pulled it towards him, opened the cover and started to read.
They worked through the night. At some point, Kreacher had emerged from the basement, watching them from the doorway, before wordlessly firing up the stove and filling the kettle. Aside from occasional mutterings under his breath, Sirius had not spoken, although he had apparently found much to copy down, his quill scratching almost constantly, covering sheets of parchment. Remus had been making his own notes, battling the dense Victorian prose, trying to detach himself from the horror of its contents. He’d found the detailed account of Horcrux creation that Dumbledore had summarised for them, and read through it over and over again -
‘He’s not the same as the others,’ he said, eventually, surprising himself with how loud his voice sounded in the silent kitchen, ‘He’s not a Horcrux. The preparation of the vessel - it is complex and it is essential - but then you also have to encase it - there’s a spell, to fix the fragment within the vessel. If it’s not fixed -’
Sirius looked up, waiting for him to continue.
‘If it’s not fixed,’ Remus repeated, ‘Then surely it can be removed, or moved - relocated?’
Sirius looked at him for a moment, his expression tense. Ink dripped steadily from the tip of his quill, forming a blue puddle on his page.
‘Did you find anything?’ Remus prompted, eyes flicking to the open notebook under Sirius’ hand.
Sirius looked down, moving his leaking quill back in surprise and placing it hastily in the inkwell.
‘Reg knew it might not just be the locket,’ he said, quietly, ‘He suspected there was more than one, Voldemort had them looking for things - there’s something here -’
He climbed awkwardly from the bench, his limbs stiff from hours in the same position and pulled the notebook and parchment across the table towards Remus.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘When I translated the code I got this -’ he dragged his finger across the page, ‘Sepulchrum - that means tomb and then there’s this phrase, an inscription maybe? But he’s crossed it out. And then this - ‘infaustus’. It means unlucky, or unsuccessful, or - maybe disastrous.’