Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author Notes: Infinite thanks to all reviewers for submitting such wonderful reviews for the previous chapter.
By the way, since I don't live in the UK, I have no idea how the so-called Cockney (London East end) accent is spoken. I know that Stan speaks in this Cockney dialect, but please forgive me if the way I have depicted his dialogues do not match the dialect.
Harry Potter and The Sacred Alliance
Chapter 7
The half moon was barely visible through the clouds in the rapidly darkening sky, as dusk descended over the streets of London, which were jammed with rush-our traffic as people were making every attempt to get home before any of their colleagues did. But the traffic was the least of all concerns to the cloaked man emerging from what was the head office of The Quibbler. Subconsciously he eyed the moon - as was his nature, due to the fact that its phases affected his lifestyle profoundly - while his mind was preoccupied with piecing together the incidents that had followed the battle over the prophecy in the Ministry, in its bid to uncover an underlying master-plan that they all could be overlooking.
His gait was brisk as he walked to a nearby taxi stand. He had very rarely used Muggle transport all through his life, but his current mission - which constituted bringing Stan Shunpike under the Order's protection - demanded it. After the outrage that The Quibbler article had created earlier that day all over wizarding Britain, the whole wizarding press was after Stan, and so were Ministry officials. But they wouldn't get to him before the Order did, if Phoenix operative Remus Lupin had anything to do about it. Besides, for an average bus conductor, Stan had quite cleverly hidden himself, probably under the advice of Mr. Lovegood, the chief editor of The Quibbler.
Remus had spent the past two hours inquiring everyone from Stan's relatives to his ex-coworkers (Stan had been fired from his job in the Knight Bus transport service the moment his article was published.) about Stan's whereabouts, before he had come up with the idea of contacting The Quibbler's publishers. After he had proved them his allegiance to Dumbledore - and consequently his support for Harry's innocence - he had been handed the address of a little-known Muggle inn somewhere on the outskirts of London city. It was this address that he was now showing to the driver of the taxi he had just hired.
"I'm in a hurry. How long will it take?" he asked.
"If we're lucky, it'll take three hours, sir, give or take another half," replied the driver, as he started the car after activating its meter.
As Remus sank back in the worn out seat in the rear, the earlier events of the day raced through his mind.
Gasps of disbelief echoed throughout the room as the 'Moody' that had been sitting amongst them gradually turned into one of their former associates - Mundungus Fletcher. If Remus had expected anyone in that room to be disguised under the Polyjuice, then the last in his list would be Alastor Moody. Considering that Moody had spent a whole year at Hogwarts locked in a trunk, while an impostor personified him using the Polyjuice potion, he - of all people - was surely expected to undertake more precautions to prevent similar incidents again. So much for the man famous for practicing "Constant Vigilance" in every aspect of his lifestyle.
But what Remus - and possibly everyone else in the room - felt harder to believe was the fact that Mundungus Fletcher had betrayed them. The same person whom Dumbledore had given a second chance in life. The only person who had ever retired from the Order alive, though the retirement was forced after he had acquired seemingly handicapping injuries in the Death Eater incident in Little Whinging. Yet he was standing in front of them, healthy as ever. Only once before had Remus felt compelled to question Dumbledore's trust on somebody - in the case of Peter Pettigrew, and here was another blatant proof of a clear breach of that trust. Or was it?
"Mundungus," said Dumbledore, perhaps the only person in the room still wearing a calm expression on his face. But the weirdest expression of all was plastered on Fletcher's face, who was still trembling - either, thought Remus, under the effect of the anti-Polyjuice potion, or in fear of Dumbledore.
The seconds ticked by on the large grandfather clock standing in a corner, the clicking sound of the moving second-arm reverberating in the otherwise silent room. But no reply came from Fletcher, though his face expressed a strange mixture of fear, anger, and . . . relief?
"Remus, please keep an eye on Mundungus. The rest of you may return to your duties. We shall meet later when this matter is cleared," said Dumbledore finally; then facing Snape at his side, he added, "I need you, Severus, to get the other potion that I asked you to prepare. After that wait here with Remus until I return."
Saying so, Dumbledore started for his office, the rest of the Order members behind him, before Fletcher suddenly stopped trembling and dashed towards Dumbledore, a weak croak escaping his throat. Remus had never observed the symptoms of any side-effects of the anti-Polyjuice potion before, but this certainly didn't seem a side-effect.
"Dumbledore . . . no don't go . . ." Remus could barely make out what he was saying.
What followed was even stranger. Fletcher came to an abrupt stop just before Dumbledore, a sudden rage flashing in his eyes before they went completely blank of emotion, as he pulled out his wand, bellowing, "Avada . . .". But a dozen stunning spells had caught him squarely on the chest, making him land with a loud thud on the hard stone wall a few feet away.
Remus had distinctly heard the cracking sound of bone being fractured - probably the back-bone. Apparently Dumbledore had heard it too, since he immediately sent McGonagall to fetch Madam Pomfrey, the nurse-in-charge of the hospital wing in Hogwarts. Then he lead the rest of the Order members to his office, from where they would Floo to their respective destinations.
As Remus stood alone by the unconscious body of Mundungus Fletcher, he could think of only one explanation for Fletcher's strange behavior - he was under the Imperius curse. A few minutes later McGonagall returned with Madam Pomfrey, who quickly examined Fletcher for injuries, and performed some emergency healing charms.
A short while later, Snape rejoined them with a flask of Veritaserum, to be shortly followed by Dumbledore. A few drops of the Veritaserum was administered to Fletcher, before he was awaken by Dumbledore. His face and eyes were void of any emotion, indicating that truth potion was taking effect. What followed was a detailed interrogation of Fletcher, regarding the unauthorized disclosure of the location of the former Order Headquarters, mostly conducted by Dumbledore, with frequent interruptions by Snape.
From what Remus gathered, the attack on Fletcher in Little Whinging was staged by Death Eaters in order to put Fletcher under the Imperius curse. Neither Fletcher, nor the other Order members who had rescued him had any idea of the attackers' identities. But what became clear was that the Imperius curse was strong enough to force Fletcher to stun Moody when the latter was visiting him alone while he was recuperating at St. Mungo's. His unsuccessful resistance to the curse had rendered him unconscious, but on waking up Moody's body had disappeared - probably taken away by Death Eaters.
As time progressed, resisting the Imperius became more and more difficult for Fletcher, until he had to give in completely. Under the Imperius, he had been able to obscure his recovery by some clever spells, which had deluded the healers into believing that his magical injuries had taken away his ability to walk. While physical injuries could be cured by magic, curse-induced injuries were a different case altogether, requiring the correct anti-curse to heal. The loss of his ability to walk made apparition risky, resulting in confiscation of his apparition license, and in his retirement from the Order. Within four days of being treated in hospital, he had been able to recover most of his health. Consequently, a day after Moody's capture, he was discharged from the hospital, ridden to a magical wheelchair.
A Death Eater agent met Fletcher twice everyday, handing him the required Polyjuice potion, prepared for assuming Moody's physical appearance. He had unknowingly turned into an undercover agent for the Dark side, impersonating Moody. He had been able to preserve the note that Dumbledore wrote to disclose the Order Headquarters to the new Order recruits, which he had later handed over to the Death Eaters.
Dumbledore's questioning ability was one of his virtues Remus admired most, for in spite of Fletcher's incoherent answers, they were able to reconstruct the above version of events. Yet it still left many questions unanswered - such as why Voldemort would send the note to the Minister of Magic, and where he was holding the real Moody.
* * *
A cool female voice, coming from the speakers on the ceiling of the air-conditioned compartment, announced the name of the next station, jarring Hermione from her thoughts. The regularly appearing emergency lights sped by at 90 km/hr as the subway local rattled through the dimly lit tunnels under the streets of London. The compartment was fairly crowded, though the rush of commuters returning home from work had steadily subsided as the minutes had ticked by after 7 PM.
If not for the fact that she was about to finally meet Harry, she would have been in an off mood, thanks to the letter that was tucked away in one of her her jeans' pockets.
Dear Miss Granger,
We have received intelligence that you, an underage student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, are responsible for a complex charm that was recorded in the premises of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, Diagon Alley at twenty-two minutes past seven this evening.
You must be well aware of the fact that any form of underage magic is expressly prohibited outside school, as laid down by the Decree of Restriction of Underage Sorcery, dated 1875. Considering that this was your first violation of the rule, and taking into account your outstanding academic performance, you have been pardoned this time.
However, further spell-work on your part outside your school will result in your immediate expulsion from Hogwarts, as dictated by paragraph C of the said decree.
Wishing you the best,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk,
Improper Use of Magic Office,
Ministry of Magic.
Strange ways the mind works in times of crisis, she mused to herself. In her anxiety about Harry's welfare, the existence of the decree had totally slipped her mind, while she was trying the Auto-Address spell on the parchment. Another careless step, and you'll be joining Harry in hiding, she rebuked herself. On the other hand, the only remark Ron had been able to come up with, after reading the letter, was, "Hey! Does that mean me and Ginny can do magic once too?"
Not too unexpected, Hermione believed, of someone who had the greatest rule-breakers in Hogwarts, since the legendary Marauders, for brothers. And the fact, that his best-friend was the son of the leader of the Marauders themselves, did not help much either. And it was for the sake of this best-friend that Hermione, Ron and Ginny were in an Underground train, instead of Floo-ing back to Godric's Hollow.
She was amused at how much growing up with Harry, Ron and their misadventures had changed her. The Hermione Granger, that had entered Hogwarts at the ago of eleven, would never have conceded to she and her friends going off on their own to meet another friend, who, incidentally, was on the run from the authorities for a murder he had not committed. Here they were doing exactly that, and more amazingly, she was the one who had suggested it. She didn't even want to imagine the reaction of Mrs. Weasley when they finally returned back to the Order hideout, more than three hours later than the stipulated time.
To be truthful, she had been apprehensive about taking Ginny along, but she had no choice - if there was one thing Ginny had in excess, then it was her stubbornness, inherited, no doubt, from her mother. Presently, Ginny was sitting still with her eyes closed, probably feeling nauseous since this was her first trip through the London Underground. Ron, meanwhile, was busy gazing with fascination at everything from the retreating stations to the air-conditioner outlets to the automatically sliding doors - as if a whole new universe of possibilities had just unfolded before his eyes.
Before long, their destination arrived, and they emerged from the station, heading for the nearest taxi stand. With every step, Hermione's heartbeat increased a few notches, as her mind was filled with anxiety and anticipation for Harry's condition, whom she would be meeting in a short while - that is if the Auto-Address charm on the parchment was still functioning.
* * *
Not more than a few miles away, an invisible green-eyed teenager was swiftly walking in the direction that he hoped would take him to the Underground station. He had never been to this place before - due to the fact that his relatives had never taken him on any of their regular shopping trips to London. Consequently, he had had to take the risk of asking normal-looking Muggle bystanders for directions.
He was extremely exhausted after walking continuously for the whole day - his legs were almost ready to give up. But he drove them on, ignoring the pain in his ankles. He wouldn't rest before he reached the crowded safety of the Underground.From there, he would probably take a train to Grimmauld Place - which, as far as he knew, was still the Order Headquarters.
He was currently passing by an almost empty children's park - the children must have been at their homes, eating dinner with their families, he thought. A pang of grief gripped his heart as he wondered how his life would have been with his parents alive. But it was quickly replaced by an uneasy feeling as the prickling sensation in his scar increased all of a sudden. Probably my imagination, he tried to assure himself, willing his legs to walk faster.
However, for some reason, his legs weren't moving any faster - instead they started slowing down, in spite of his desperate efforts. Even his mind was slowing down, as a cold sensation penetrated his nerves. But it wasn't slow enough to not to realize the cause. Dementors were nearby.
His vision thinned and hearing became muffled with his mother's screams and Voldemort's laughter, the volume of which was ever-increasing in his head. But he wouldn't give up. With all his will, he tried to clear his blurring senses.For a moment during which his vision returned, he could spot four hooded figures gliding through the now deserted park.
It was now or never. Pulling out his wand, he forced his mind to think of his best friends, whom he was missing so much, and bellowed with all his might, "Expecto Patronum!"
Nothing happened. He said it a second time, and then for a third time, but all that emerged from his wand was a thin cloud of silver mist. Meanwhile, the dementors where drawing closer and closer. Even with his almost defunct eyes, he could see that there were more than four dementors - much more.
With a last bit of effort he turned around to make a run for it, but was only met with another horde of the same unearthly creatures. Blood-curling screams of his mother were filling his head... He could see Sirius falling through the veil in slow motion... He was almost on the verge of losing his consciousness... Desperate to his limits, he tried to create a Patronus for one more time, but to no avail.
That was it. There was nothing more he could do. His last thought was that he would probably be meeting his parents and Sirius soon. At last.
* * *
The dusk was replaced by a starless cloudy night, as the imposing commercial Muggle buildings of central London, whizzing past the taxi, gave way to small residential buildings of the suburbia. The air was warm, still and humid, a clear indication of impending rains later in the night. The destination wasn't much far off, the taxi driver had informed him. With some effort, Remus directed his thoughts to the task at hand.
With luck, he would meet Stan in the inn and take him to the new Order Headquarters in Wales. That is, unless Ministry officials or Death Eaters got there first. Remus wouldn't put anything past Voldemort's followers after their expertly crafted infiltration into the Order's inner ring. Of course, special arrangements had been made in the new Headquarters to detect the use of the Polyjuice potion in the future.
After another fifteen minutes, the taxi screeched to a halt opposite to a run-down inn, bordered by a few scattered shops on both sides and woods on the back. Paying the fare in Muggle currency, Remus stepped out of the taxi and headed for the inn's entrance.
A lone electric bulb lit the entrance hall, as Remus made his way to the cash counter - which also served as the enquiry desk. The man sitting at the desk, in shabby clothes, was completely ignoring Remus' arrival. He looked about fifty years in age and was immersed in a crossword puzzle.
"Excuse me..." said Remus.
"Yea?" The man looked up from his newspaper, not hiding his irritation.
"I'm looking for a friend named Stan Shunpike, who may be staying in this inn."
"'Choo sayin'?"
Remus repeated, louder this time.
"Shunpike you say? Never 'eard of 'im."
Not for a second did Remus believe him. Holding out a ten-pound note, he added, "Well I did. And you get another ten if he's here."
After staring longingly at the note for a second, the man's demeanor changed completely. He pulled out a dusty register from under his desk, and started thumbing away the pages, occasionally dabbing his finger to his tongue.
"Stan Shunpike... 'ere he is. Room number 5 upstairs," he said, smiling. "Remember 'im... strange lad, gave me the collywobbles. Come to think of it, he asked to be left alone... You sure yer' a friend?"
"Of course. He's been expecting me."
Handed him the money, Remus headed for the staircase, passing a nearly empty bar in the way. Once he reached the upper landing, he quietly walked upon the creaky wooden floor to the third room from the stairs. With a whispered "Alohomora" and swift wave of his wand, he unlocked the door to the dark room. Lighting his wand, he could make out a man sleeping soundly in a cot near the sole window in the room.
Letting out the breath he had been holding subconsciously, he closed the door behind him, putting locking and silencing charms on it. The snoring man was unmistakably Stan, his pimpled face and large, protruding ears standing out. But they didn't have much time before others knew of this location. Remus shook the sleeping man awake.
"Wha... Who are you?" asked Stan, sitting up, his wand outstretched.
"Remus Lupin. I've come to help you."
"Help me? 'ow didja find me?"
"Mr. Lovegood. I work for Dumbledore. We've got to get out of here. Can you apparate?"
"'old on a minute... You could be one of them Ministry Aurors... No wait, I think I've 'eard your name somewhere before."
"I don't know what you're talking about. Remember that Mr. Lovegood gave me your address, so I am a friend. And we don't have much time before Aurors or Death Eaters do get here. Get your belongings... I've got a portkey if you can't apparate."
Stan didn't look too convinced, but apparently he didn't rejoice at the idea of confronting Death Eaters either. It was decide that they would use the portkey, since Stan had never learnt to apparate. Once Stan was ready, Remus activated the portkey, which was in fact a Muggle ball-point pen.
"Five seconds to go," he said, "four... three... two..."
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The pen shot out of their grips, hovering near the roof for the remaining two seconds before vanishing completely, as they both looked on stunned, unable to react for a few moments. Finally regaining his senses, Remus scrutinized the empty corner from where the spell came, before the realization struck him - Disillusionment charms.
Stan's life must be protected at all costs - his prime objective as Dumbledore had put it. He had seldom failed the Order before, and he didn't plan to now. In a flash, he had aimed his wand at the door and unlocked it.
"Stan! They're here... RUN!" he commanded the pale faced man beside him, still too shocked to move. Finally Stan seemed to understand him and made a rush for the open door, but not before a hooded figure, cloaked in black, appeared right in front of the door, blocking any exit. Stan stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed with shock and fear. Two other figures in similar attires followed, both in the corner which had only a few moments ago seemed empty. Before Remus had a chance to aim, multiple disarming spells had hit him and Stan.
Death Eaters, Remus instantly recognized. Evidently, their objective was to kill Stan. And Remus would probably be a pleasant bonus. They were all pointing their wands at the helpless duo, victorious smirks plastered on their faces - probably getting ready to cast the Killing curse, Remus concluded. There was no way he could take on all three of them by himself, taking into account the fact that both his and Stan's wands were with the Death Eaters. Unless...
"Look who we have here... our werewolf friend!" said the man near the door. Stan, on his part, went even paler, positively trembling in fright.
"Malfoy." Remus could have recognized that voice anywhere. "I had no idea that Azkaban could be bought too..." Buying time was his best option - the other Order members would apparate in there any second.
"That is no concern of yours, Lupin. A dead man has no concern, anyway." He laughed maniacally at his own joke, to be joined a few seconds too late by his associates.
Remus had no doubts about their identities. The thought that plagued him was why the Order members had not arrived yet - it usually took less than five seconds for a distress call to reach the Head. And he had been sending it continuously for a minute now. There could be just one explanation - Harry was in danger too, whose protection was, presently, a more pressing concern for the Order. Which left only one choice for him, if he was to succeed in saving Stan. The choice he had been most reluctant to take.
"Prepare to die, Lupin. But you'll have to watch this coward die first," said Malfoy, aiming his wand at Stan.
He was about to cast the Killing curse, before a growl erupted from where Remus had been standing a few moments ago. It was the Death Eaters' turn to be shell-shocked, as gleaming red eyes, on a hairy body which belonged more to a wolf than a human being, stared back at them. Remus had willed his transformation - made possible by a special potion that Snape gave him daily; one which let werewolves have control over their transformations, though for a short while only. He had approximately ten minutes before he would lose control over himself; the animal part of his self, not being able to bear the absence of the full moon for much time, would change back to his human form.
Before Malfoy could recover, Remus lunged for his throat, baring his fangs. This was a feeling he had never experienced before - usually when he transformed, he would lose all coherent thought as his human mind gave way to pure animal instincts. But now, for the first time, he could experience all the raw animal power of his wolf form, while still possessing his human intellectual abilities - at least for now.
A mad craze for revenge filled his mind, as he sunk his teeth into Malfoy's shoulder. Revenge for what they had done to all those he had cared for. Malfoy had played an important role in the battle for the prophecy, which ultimately lead to Sirius' death. He could have killed the now-unconscious bastard then and there, but with a tremendous effort, he restrained himself, turning his attention to the remaining two, presently cowering, Death Eaters.
With an inhuman strength, he pounced upon them, injuring just enough to demobilize - taking life was not something he rejoiced in. For a moment he thought he had succeeded - Malfoy and both his associates were unconscious on the floor, and would be for at least another few hours unless help arrived. But that was before his sharp ears caught distinct sounds of loud spell-work downstairs. Stan had rushed out the moment Remus had attacked Malfoy. He was alone down there.
Remus leapt out of the room, dashing down the stairs four steps at a time on his four legs. The bar and the entrance hall were in complete disarray, the few Muggles who had been present were either stunned or - Remus shuddered at the thought - dead. But Stan or his adversaries were nowhere to be seen.
Gathering speed, he ran outside, but he hadn't been fast enough. Out on the muddy road, a figure was sprawled awkwardly, face downwards and unmoving. Remus didn't need to see the face to know who it was. Still, with the slightest bit of hope, he clumsily turned around the body with his paws. The lifeless face of Stan Shunpike stared back at him, eyelids open and revealing blank gray eyes. Extreme fear and despair were still etched upon the face - unresponsive to the wolf howling helplessly upon him.
With a newfound rage, he frantically ran around the area, sniffing and searching for the murderers - Death Eaters, no doubt, who had been waiting for them outside. But there was no living soul to be found. The only moving entity was the Mark, floating higher and higher in the sky; the mark that even Remus had grown to fear so much during the first reign of Voldemort.
Remus had failed. And the failure was probably due to his carelessness - he had never stopped to consider the fact that anyone could have followed his taxi to the location. The Death Eaters had evidently done just that, and succeeded in eliminating Stan.
But it wasn't his failure that grieved and irked him the most - it was the loss of the innocent lives. Lives such as this man's, who, though being weak, had dared to stand up to the authorities for the truth, throwing away his job and his family, and unknowingly sealing his own deadly fate. Lives such as those of the innocent Muggles back there in the inn, who had happened to be present in the way of Voldemort's followers. Lives such as those of the hundreds of children orphaned by Voldemort's quest for power, part of whose lives were lost even before they learned to speak.
A/N: I won't put much here except for a pleading request for reviews. And stay tuned for the next chapter...
Qool