[FIC] What Secrets Keep - R - S/R - 1/15+

[jenexell]

Title: What Secrets Keep
Series: What...
Author: jenexell
Pairings and Characters:Sirius/Remus (implied past relationship), Harry, Ron, Hermione, Pettigrew (the usual suspects)
Rating: R - Some not so pleasant imagery here and there.
Disclaimer: If this was real, I wouldn't share. As its not, I'm sharing with no personal gain or profit, other than perhaps to feed my attention whore complex. non-recognisable elements are mine! plagiarists will be eaten alive by weasels. Much information has been gleaned from the books (obviously), films, various Wiki's, other internet sources and my font of all HP knowledge ttfan.
Distribution: My Journal (jenexell), and quite a few other places too. (attention whore complex). If you want it, link back to my journal, don't steal its naughty.
Warnings: None for now.
Spoilers: Everything and nothing. Set during Book 2, Chamber of Secrets, but does diverge quite wildly from cannon in some respects. References pretty much everything, although I'm trying to ignore Pottermore because she keeps messing up my backstories!.

Summary:Au Book 2. Sometimes there are just too many secrets, and sometimes all it takes to start unravelling them is a failed spell from a broken wand. But with secrets, lies, half truths, mysteries and a giant snake in the pipework, who can be believed?

Previous Parts:
::Prologue::


Chapter One - Lost Boys

Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a place of great renown. Founded by the four greatest witches and wizards of their age, more than a thousand years past, it was the flagship of magical education. The home of the elite, the crème-de-la-crème of Magical Society. If Wizarding Britain had a royal line, then its scions would certainly have graced Hogwarts’ hallowed halls.

As it was there was no such royal line, but instead many great and noble pureblood houses. Houses whose wealth and influence had steered the path of the Wizarding world for generations, and whose magical ancestry was irrefutable. And it was to Hogwarts that this ruling class sent their children, their names upon its register from the moment of their births. The Blacks, the Malfoys, the Crabbes, the Goyles, the Bones, the Crouchs, the Parkinsons, the Potters, the Princes. To name but a few.

They were not however the only ones to whom Hogwarts opened its doors. It was after all, a place of great prestige. Anyone who was anyone of remotest power, wealth or influence attempted to send their child to Hogwarts. As a result, rubbing shoulders with those of old money and old blood, were the children of new money, of parents who had with hard work and entrepreneurial vision (or keen minds and negotiable ethics) risen themselves from their humble beginnings. There were other Wizarding schools of course, other privately funded schools with excellent reputations as well as the less well regarded Ministry schools, but Hogwarts was the one. Hogwarts children were glory bound, destined for greatness. Its history spoke for itself.

It was for that reason that it also found itself the term time home of the children of the Ministry. Ever concerned with public appearance, it simply would not do for the children of high ranking Ministry officials to be educated anywhere else. A place at Hogwarts was guaranteed to anyone born of a parent in a high enough position of government. To make sure this place was taken up, despite the somewhat limited salaries awarded to those in civil service, these places were always - quietly - subsidised.

It was only through this last means, and those discreetly reduced fees, that the Weasleys had returned to Hogwarts. A pureblood house though they were, their wealth and status had been lost many generations past. The last four generations had risen through the Ministry, and as a result the last three had walked the halls of Hogwarts again, adding their names to the lists of their ancestors who had come before.

Thankfully for the school's academic reputation however, the wealth or status of a child's parents were not the only qualifying criteria for admission to Hogwarts. All schools needed funding of course, and without the fee paying students the facilities at the school would not be anything like what they were. Hogwarts had a reputation for excellence to maintain and to that end selected from across the country were the finest young minds and brightest new talents, regardless of financial, social or ethnic background or magical blood lineage. That wasn't to say that those whose tuition was paid for had less talent, (some of the purebloods would argue the exact opposite) some of said students were in fact incredibly talented, but it was a well observed fact, especially by the teaching staff, that money and breeding did not always equal ability.

Selecting these students was always an involved process. The number to be taken on each year varied, depending on those already on the books, how much the Ministry was willing to award in subsidies and of course, the fact that the ability benchmark changed from cohort to cohort. The Trace, which attached itself to every newborn witch or wizard until their 17th birthday certainly helped, monitoring as it did the latent aptitude of each child as they grew; glowing brightly as a child's natural magic matured, or fizzling out as the initial burst faded to nothing, leaving a squib. In fact it was the keystone of the whole process, and the only way to track those of muggle, non-magical birth.

There was one final group of students at Hogwarts, and they were always a rather mixed bag. Few had money, although some did. Many were talented, bright or with high aptitudes, but some were not. Some were pureblood, some were halfblood. None were Muggle-born. These were the children of the Honoured, of those who had performed great service to the Wizarding world, and in most cases had given their lives in the process. Children like Neville Longbottom, whose place at Hogwarts had been given not because his family was pureblood, not because of ability - for many years he had been thought barely more than a squib, and despite scoring fairly well on latent aptitude, his actual ability was generally considered low - but because of his parents, who had sacrificed their futures and sanity to protect the Wizarding world. These children paid not a penny towards their schooling, unless their guardians chose to make a contribution. The tradition had likely started as what it outwardly appeared to be; a gift, a reward, a thank-you. The more cynical minded however, could not help but notice what an excellent Public Relations exercise such students made; for both the school and the Ministry. Not that anyone actually suspected The School of such motivations.

The greatest public relations coup though, came perhaps in the form of the one student who did not exactly fit into any of the aforementioned admissions categories and yet at the same time would have qualified in each. His aptitude was markedly high, although his academic level was considered to be lower than expected. He was descended on his father's side from an old and noble pureblood house, one which had retained its wealth if not its influence. His father had also been, before his untimely passing, an Auror; one who many had tipped for high office in future years. His mother too, although Muggle-born, had clearly been destined for great things. Together, his parents had been heroes. Not renowned at the time, but upon their deaths they had been elevated almost to martyrdom; the boy's mother would most certainly have been in the running for a sainthood had the Wizarding world subscribed to a branch of Christian based religion. The story of this particular boy's parents was the most retold of all the tales from the last great Wizarding war.

The most retold that was, other than his own. For he was the Boy-Who-Lived. He was the child, who as a tiny infant had been responsible for the destruction of arguably the most powerful and evil wizard in known history, and with this act, had singlehandedly ended one of the worst wars the Wizarding world had ever known.

He was Harry Potter.

And never had Minerva McGonagall ever faced a challenge quite like him. She'd been a teacher at the school for more than thirty years, head of Gryffindor house for twenty two and Deputy Headmistress for nine. And never in all her time had she come across a student who so haplessly managed to end up in strife.

He wasn't a poorly behaved child. In fact he was usually unfailingly polite, courteous and obedient. To a point. What he was, was a damaged child. A lifetime of teaching children honed the eye to these things. She'd warned the Headmaster about those damned Muggle relatives of his, the ones Albus Dumbledore in all his wisdom had insisted young Harry must remain with. And sure enough, when the boy had finally started at the school she'd seen straight away the unfamiliarity he had with affection, his confusion and delight at the simplest acts of kindness and the suspicion with which he tried to fathom out the motives behind such kindness.

Most obvious of all however, had been the distrust with which the boy viewed the adults around him, and the responsibility he piled upon himself because of it. He was far too young to be as self sufficient and self contained as he was. Far too young to see the world with so much cynicism. It could have been worse, she knew that, but it was bad enough.

The boy was a legend in his own lifetime. A child of destiny about whom prophesies foretold. And he was barely twelve years old!

If there was one person who should be able to shelter behind the adults who cared for him it was Harry Potter and yet between the boy's fierce independence, belief that he must do everything for himself and the Headmaster's cryptic insistence that the boy must find his own path, he more often than not found his way into trouble far beyond that which would usually find a boy of his age. Far beyond that which would usually find anyone of any age.

Not that he hadn't handled himself well. Curse Albus for bringing the Philosopher's Stone to the school in the first place; but if the events of last year had taught Minerva nothing else it was that Harry Potter was a powerful and resourceful young wizard. To learn that he had found his way through the myriad of traps and wards that had been placed around the stone, with only the aid of his first years schooling and his two undoubtedly heroic and steadfast friends was quite simply astounding. To know that he did this and then defeated the spirit of Voldermort who had for at least a year been in possession of dear sweet and now sadly departed professor Quirrel, was beyond belief.

Yet it had happened. And Minerva had sorely hoped that would be the end of it. She had hoped vehemently that the new school year would bring with it for Harry only the troubles that beset most boys his age. The trials of the onset of puberty, the demands of a rigorous curriculum, spats and tiffs between himself and his friends that would teach him the lessons he would need to learn to cope with everyday life in the future as a well balanced mature adult. Misfiring spells, pranks, mischief and Quiddich practice. Normal things.

For four whole weeks it looked like she would get her wish. Other than an unconventional arrival, those first four weeks had passed without incident. Then there had been that message, written in blood on the wall. The Chamber of Secrets. Of all things, the Chamber of Secrets. And who should be the one to first stumble upon the message and Mr Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, strung up on the wall petrified? None other than Harry Potter.

Four weeks! Just four weeks and he'd managed to get himself into the middle of something. Well alright so he wasn't in the middle. He'd simply found the message, not written it. And it wasn't a threat to him. No the Chamber of Secrets and the monster legend told lived within were only a threat to the Muggle-born. That one of Harry's best friend's happened to be Muggle-born was purely an unlucky coincidence.

Besides, Harry had other things to occupy his mind at the moment. Oh yes. Nothing was ever simple with Harry Potter. And this time it was something entirely to do with him. In fact it couldn't have had more to do with him if it tried.

Just days after the discovery of the message relating to the Chamber of Secrets, while the students were still all abuzz with it, the most curious and amazing thing had happened in class. In her class. It was supposed to have been a fairly ordinary lesson. The start of the second years' journey into the study of live transfiguration. And it had started as she had expected it to.

Harry had almost been late, Malfoy had been late but had been escorted by Professor Snape who had claimed he'd been talking to the boy and was the cause of his lack of punctuality - Minerva didn't believe that for a second - Ronald Weasley had been even later, thanks apparently to his rat's decision to hide in one of his shoes and not come out.

So a fairly ordinary start. Hermione Granger had attempted to answer every question, and had had a text book perfect answer every time. She'd even known that live transfiguration was the route into which one might study to become an animagus; a truly advanced piece of knowledge. The demonstration of the day's spell had gone well; unlike on occasions where the subject would wriggle, flap or even decide to make a break for it, the bird had sat quietly and allowed itself to be turned into a water goblet.

Then she'd thought to take a little revenge on Ronald for his lateness and asked him to perform the spell on his rat, forgetting that he had a broken wand. All things considered, he'd actually done fairly well. A furry goblet with a tail was far better than a half metallic student with a hollow head. But it was at this point that it had all gone wrong.

Hermione had asked about the Chamber of Secrets, and although Minerva was a firm believer in letting children have their childhood, she was also not a proponent of lying to them when they asked direct and serious questions. Unfortunately, towards the end of her explanation of Salazar Slytherin's unpleasant legacy, young Ronald’s rat-goblet had begun to squeak alarmingly, wobbling around on the table apparently in desperation. The half transformed creature was clearly in great distress, and so when the standard reversal spells had failed, Minerva had cast a more potent one. One supposed to return an object or creature to its natural state.

She had expected it to work and it had. She had not expected it to turn Ronald Weasley's rat into a person. Or for that person to be none other than one of her former students, Peter Pettigrew.

Peter Pettigrew, one of the self titled Marauders; a group of four Gryffindor boys who had graduated some fifteen years ago, and who among them, other than Peter, had also numbered one James Harold Potter - Harry's father. The same Peter Pettigrew who had been - at least so everyone believed until the moment he appeared on top of Ron's desk in her classroom - murdered by another friend and fellow Marauder, Sirius Black. The same Sirius Black who had sold out Harry's parents to Lord Voldermort and was directly responsible for their deaths.

To see him there large as life had been shocking to say the least. For the first time in her career at Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall had actually dismissed a class before the end of the designated lesson time. She hadn't been able to think of what else to do. Once the class had gone apart from Harry and Ron, she'd sent the two boys to her office and escorted Pettigrew - whose mumbling, gibbering and pleading had seemed far from sane - to the hospital wing. Once there, and once the Headmaster had arrived, the most incredible story had unfolded.

The story of how Pettigrew had realised what Black had done and gone to confront him. Of how Black had easily disarmed him and taunted him with how he would turn him into a rat, so that when he killed him, no-one would find a body. How peter had severed his own finger with a pocket knife so that someone would know what had happened to him and Sirius would be caught. How Sirius had followed through with his taunt and transfigured him, then cast the spell which had blown up the street, killing twelve Muggles and throwing Peter into the air. How he'd woken up, still a rat and unable to communicate his plight to anyone. How he'd found the Weasleys and hoped the family would notice his above average intelligence and would work it out.

It was a story that made sense. But it was still incredible. That Black had been able to transfigure Peter was not surprising; to this day Minerva quietly, and now ashamedly counted Sirius Black amongst her most talented students. She had fully expected him to pursue the path to becoming an animagus upon leaving school, and had been disappointed when the reference request from the Animagus Registration Department at the Ministry had not landed on her desk.

What was incredible, truly and utterly incredible, was that Peter had been sane and human enough to tell the story at all. Never had she ever heard of a person having been transfigured for so long and keeping so much of their human mind. He hadn't kept it all poor man, nor had he managed to lose some fragments of his rat appearance, too long had he been out of human shape. To speak in technicalities, his morphic field had lost cohesion and was drifting into resonance with the stable physical form. In other words, much longer and even the natural state spell wouldn't have brought him back.

His recovery would be long, and likely arduous. But with specialist help he would probably make a full one. Until such time as St Mungos had an appropriate bed for him however, he was being cared for here at the school by Madame Pomfrey, and since he was in the building, getting to know Harry.

Not that Harry seemed to be overly keen on getting to know his father's childhood friend in return. Minerva had actually overheard the boy describe Peter as creepy to his friends and his reluctance to spend time with the man was obvious. Not that she blamed him; with his ratty mannerism, nervous twitches, overly eager and clingy attempts at physical contact, rodent like affectations in his appearance as well as the scars from the odd bout of mange and his rambling hyperactive speech, Peter was indeed, very creepy. In a pathetic and well meaning kind of way.

Over all though, she was sure even Harry would admit that Peter's return was a good thing. Not least of all, in Minerva's opinion, because it had distracted Harry and his friends from the issue of the Chamber of Secrets.

Unfortunately, given that it was very late in the evening, all of her students had been accounted for in their dorms and yet she had just been summoned to the Headmaster's office she had a sinking suspicion that perhaps he had not been so distracted as she thought. That a stoic, but equally uninformed Severus Snape was walking beside her rather led credence to that supposition. A serious matter between students of their houses they would have known about before now. A serious matter concerning the entire school would have warranted a meeting with all four heads of house. A matter concerning the daily running of the school would not have required Severus' presence nor would it have required a late night summons.

A matter requiring both their presence, and at such a late hour could only mean something not school related, but related to a certain Dark Wizard, his followers, and more recently to Harry Potter.

Whatever that boy had done now to get himself into trouble, Minerva was sorely tempted to let Severus have at him. He clearly wasn't listening to her.

*******

When the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses finally arrived at the office of the Headmaster, it was to find the man looking about as agitated as either could remember seeing him. Not that anyone else would think he was all that agitated. Professor Albus Dumbledore was not a man to flap and carry on even in the direst circumstances. Instead he had a habit of movement. When something troubled his mind he would move. Pace his office or wander the school. For a man of his age, he had a surprising level of mobility.

Standing just inside the doorway, the two Heads of House glanced warily at each other, noted that the other also seemed concerned at the Headmaster's apparent unease and shared a rare look of mutual understanding.

And it was rare indeed. Personally, Severus found McGonagall to be too insufferably Gryffindor for his liking, and Minerva considered Snape to be infuriatingly Slytherin most of the time. Both had often privately noted that no better candidate could ever have been chosen to head their respective Houses, so completely did they encompass the values and characteristics of their House.

Although in saying that, both held the other in the highest regard professionally. Snape still often found himself viewing the deputy headmistress with the same respect and awe with which he had viewed her when she had taught him. He had no idea how old she was, and was too much of gentleman to have ever asked, but he knew she had worked for the Ministry for many years before coming to Hogwarts, and yet like Dumbledore, her face, poise, energy and mind belied little of what had to be an advanced age. And she was clearly powerful. Not as powerful as Dumbledore - In Snape's own lifetime he could think of only two who could have been considered Dumbledore's equal in that respect, and both were now dead. Lord Voldermort and Lily Evans, who later became Lily Potter. But Minerva was close to it although she rarely demonstrated that power.

Minerva in turn knew more about Severus Snape than he likely realised she did. She knew he'd walked some dark paths in his youth, and whatever had driven the young man to turn away from that darkness, she respected him highly for the strength of character it would have taken to turn his back on the temptations that had been placed before him. She saw in Severus Snape a good man. A man that could be trusted and a man who had made his own choices, ones which he fully accepted responsibility for. Oh yes he was Slytherin - ambitious, determined, wily and cunning - but he was no Dark Wizard. Whether he had been in the past or not was irrelevant, he was not one now. His appointment as Head of House had pleased her greatly. If anyone could lift the curse that had fallen upon that House, dispel the false perception held both within and without that it was the nest from which all Dark Wizards hatched, it was Severus Snape.

That Dumbledore trusted him with matters pertaining to the fight against Dark Wizardry spoke volumes, for it was something the Headmaster would not entrust to just anyone. It was not a fight Albus Dumbledore was willing to lose.

And whatever had happened that required their presence now; it was clearly something dire indeed.

Catching each other's eye once again, the two senior teachers shared another look, this time of exasperated impatience, and Minerva pursed her lips. Snape would not speak first as he was least senior person in the room, and if Severus had nothing else it was impeccable manners and absolute professionalism around his colleagues and superiors. So it was down to her.

"You wished to see us Headmaster?"

"What?" Dumbledore, startled out of his pacing and muttering, blinked and sighed. His face collapsed to an expression of one deeply troubled and he absently waved his hand to conjure a couch before waving them towards it. "Yes, Yes. My apologies, please take a seat you two." Moving to his desk, he picked up a bowl and offered its contents. "Bon Bon?"

Minerva raised her hand and shook her head to decline.

"Melanie Applegate in Sixth year brought me a selection back with her when she returned from visiting her family last weekend." Dumbledore explained as he offered the bowl to Snape who merely flicked his eyes up at the Headmaster with an un-amused expression. "Sure? No? Pity. These are truly quite delicious. For all the creativity and wonder of our own confections, I must admit that Muggles have a certain talent for creating truly delightful sweets."

"Headmaster." Snape drawled impatiently. "Perhaps it would be prudent to explain why we have been summoned?"

Minerva had to admit that if Severus hadn't said it, she would have.

"Quite. Again I feel I must apologise. But the news I have recently received has disturbed me greatly. And I am at a loss as to how to explain it." Dumbledore sighed again as he moved lean on the edge of his desk. He was clearly too distressed to sit. Facing the pair on the couch he began to explain. "Shortly before I summoned you here, I received a firecall from the Minister of Magic himself. He felt that the news he had to deliver should be delivered in person, but given the circumstances, he could not spare the time for a sit down meeting."

Expectantly, Minerva sat forward and waited.

"Not two hours ago," Dumbledore continued, "The Minister was informed that a prisoner had escaped from the maximum security wing in Azkaban."

"Surely that isn't possible!?" Minerva near enough yelped standing up. Now she understood why Albus had been pacing. She felt the uncanny urge to pace herself.

"Apparently, it is." Snape remarked calmly, earning a withering look from the Deputy Headmistress. "I assume that the identity of the escapee is of some specific significance?"

"Indeed it is Severus, although I too share Minerva's astonishment at the feat." Dumbledore replied to both of their comments.

"Then who is it?" Minerva demanded to be told, her mind racing through all the death-eaters and murderers she could recall having been sent to Azkaban. None, as far as she could recall would have had the kind of power and ingenuity that surely would have been required to slip the confines of a place like Azkaban.

"Sirius Black." Dumbledore intoned bluntly.

Minerva had to find her seat again quite rapidly at that pronouncement. "No..."

"I am sure you can now see why I am so concerned." Dumbledore looked between his two most trusted senior teachers with worried eyes.

"Headmaster." Snape spoke up smoothly. "As you said the escape was no more than two hours ago. He would not have been able to get far in that time. He will surely be recovered swiftly. Is there truly any need for such concern?"

"Ah Severus." Dumbledore sighed again. "If that were the case then indeed there would not be the need for so much concern, as I too have faith in our Aurors to catch a man with a mere two hour head start. However, just as the Minister informed me, I in fact stated that the Minister was informed of the escape two hours ago, only minutes after the prison authorities became aware of it themselves. Unfortunately, the last time anyone can say for certain that Black was in his cell, was more than a week ago."

"He could be anywhere!" Minerva gasped.

"Not anywhere. I suspect, and the Minister agrees, that he likely has a specific target in mind." Dumbledore informed them.

"You don't think he'd come here?" Minerva managed it a voice barely above a shocked whisper. Then pulled herself together with a visible shake. Yes this was shocking, and truly dire news, but she was not some swooning maiden out of a Muggle romance novel, and would not be seen behaving as such. "Sirius Black is more aware than most of the security surrounding this school. He tested its limits on more than one occasion while he was a student. He would surely not be so foolish as to come here now, when we know to be looking for him."

"Black," Snape cut in with audible contempt, "was not entirely blessed with sense to begin with. What little he did have has likely been stripped from him along with his sanity by the Dementors. I hardly think it wise to count on reason in this matter."

"Might I remind you Severus, that he had enough sense and reason to be able to escape Azkaban in the first place, and I hardly think it wise to forget that either." Minerva snapped back.

"You are both correct." Dumbledore stepped in to recover the situation. "We cannot assume anything in this case. None of us can safely say we knew or understood the motives of Sirius Black before he betrayed the Potters and was sent to Azkaban, to think that we do now would be the deepest folly."

Minerva huffed. "So what should we do?"

"Prepared for the worst, hope for the best." Dumbledore replied sympathetically. "The best, as far as we're concerned of course being that Black is recaptured quickly, failing that he flees the country. Not ideal admittedly."

"And the worst?" Snape asked in a tone which suggested he already knew the answer, but would rather not be the one to say it.

"Harry." Minerva's shoulders dropped sadly. "He'll come after Harry."

"To avenge his fallen master or under the mistaken belief that Harry's demise will bring Voldermort back. That is a possibility that I have discussed with the Minister." Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"We must also consider the timing of this escape." Snape mused with narrowed thoughtful eyes. "It could be just coincidence of course, but considering that Pettigrew's survival has only been common knowledge for a matter weeks surely I am not the only one to think Black may have escaped to finish what he started."

"Even if he hadn't known before he escaped, there's a good chance he'd be aware of it by now," Minerva noted with alarm, "There is no way Peter would be able to defend himself in his current condition."

"Which is why I have decided to request that Peter remain here until the crisis has passed."The Headmaster soothed. "It may delay his recovery, but he is safer here than at St Mungos. The Minister is however more concerned about Harry, and although I have assured him that here at school is the safest place for the boy, and that we will put additional measures in place to make sure that is so, he has insisted that a contingent of Dementors take up station around the school. He has however conceded to my insistence that they not be allowed onto the grounds themselves."

"I should hope not." Minerva bristled. "This is a school! To expose the children to Dementors... Believe me I am as concerned as anyone for Harry's well being, and Peter's, but that is extreme to say the least."

"I did argue this point Minerva." Dumbledore firmly defended himself against the unspoken accusation. "However the Minister would not be moved. The Ministry must be seen to be doing all that it can to apprehend Black, and although the relationship and true significance of the connection between Black and Potter is known to only a select few, Sirius' loyalty to the Dark Lord and thus his likely hatred of Harry will be assumed by many... By the way, I've been meaning to ask. I know you spoke to Harry following Pettigrew's reappearance but how much does he actually know?"

"All of it." The stern witch replied, raising her chin. "At least as much as I myself know. I could hardly not tell him, not when the chances are he would find out from Peter anyway. Far better to have heard it properly, and explained calmly, than to have bombshells dropped on him by a man not enough in his right mind to temper his words to fit the youth of the one he spoke to."

"All of it?" Snape enquired with a sceptically raised eyebrow. "Even that Black is his..."

"Godfather. Yes. All of it Severus. As I said, better to have it come from me, than for him to hear it in passing from Peter."

Once again, the silver haired wizard stepped in to prevent a flaring of tempers. "Might I suggest then Minerva that you speak to Harry before he ventures down for breakfast tomorrow? The news of Black's escape will surely be in the morning edition of the Prophet. For the self same reason, I will be calling a meeting of all Staff at 6am. The Dementors will likely be here before dawn, I would not wish to alarm the rest of the staff unduly."

"Of course." The deputy headmistress nodded, subsiding.

"Well that leaves just one last matter to attend to. Discussion on increasing security for the students can wait until the morning, however this cannot, for there is one other possible target for Black that unfortunately I believe the Ministry will overlook." At the confused looks of his two Heads of House, Dumbledore sighed sadly. The Ministry were clearly not the only ones to overlook this person. Severus he could well understand, but the Headmaster found himself slightly disappointed in Minerva. Although he supposed, she did not know what he knew. "I of course refer to the last Marauder."

Snape's eyes narrowed while Minerva's widened.

Their words came at the same time.

Snape's a sneer."Lupin."

Minerva's a gasp of realisation."Remus!"

"Indeed." Dumbledore confirmed. "I fear, due to unjust prejudices" the ancient wizard chose to ignore Snape's scoff "held by those at the Ministry, it will be left to us to find means of ensuring Mr Lupin's safety."

"Do we even know if he's still alive?" Snape asked with bland callousness.

"Although I myself haven't seen or heard from him in a number of years. Not since the Potters wake in fact. I believe he is yes. I know that Minerva has received the occasional Christmas card over the years." The Headmaster glanced at his deputy for confirmation.

"Not for a few years though." Minerva confirmed with a mix of guilt and sadness. "Although I did see him briefly in Diagon Ally not so very long ago. I'm afraid I can't recall when exactly. It was shortly after his mother passed away I remember that."

Albus nodded thoughtfully, then let his eyes meet those of the potions master, a clear warning to Severus not to be difficult in their depths.

Severus either didn't get, or chose to ignore the message. "That he was alive a few years ago does not guarantee that he is alive now. And you have no way of knowing for sure."

"Alas. I do not. Other than to check when he last registered with the Ministry. Still, I would ask you to use whatever resources at your disposal to find him, so he might be encouraged to return to the school for his own protection. And before you say it Severus, I am aware that in physical strength Sirius was no match for Remus even before his time in Azkaban, but I feel it prudent to inform you that I do not believe that should it come down to it, Remus would be able to harm Sirius, even to save his own life. I do not believe the wolf would allow it."

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