Promises Honored

Chapter One: Promises Made

October 20, 1981

Their professors would hardly have recognized them now. Carefree, wild, and out of control, James Potter and Sirius Black had careened their way through Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, leaving pranks and disasters strewn in their wake and excelling only through the lucky possession of superior intellect. They were always smiling in those days—unless deep in concentration whilst planning another escapade, and nothing seemed to bother them.

Not so, these days.

Neither looked much older than their twenty-one years, but both looked tired. Sirius appeared less so, but even with his friends, he presented an almost deadly-cheerful exterior. James suspected that doing so was a defense mechanism developed out of growing up in the miserable home he’d run away from five years ago. That self-same family still hounded him, James knew, pressing Sirius to become the family spy within the Aurors.

He’d contemplated double-crossing them more than once, but kept coming to the conclusion that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black wasn’t worth his time—besides, he’d told James, he’d have to talk to his parents in order to betray them, and he was more than happy having already been disowned. Never mind that he was a rising star in the Aurors, ranking far above his best friend and partner, and he’d earned that. James understood that Sirius wasn’t going to risk losing the hard-won trust of his fellow Aurors; the white sheep in the Black nest had a hard enough time getting where he was and had no intention of going back.

“What d’you think?” Sirius asked around his ale. The pair had left the Order of the Phoenix’s meeting and headed into the Muggle pub for some time alone. James’ quiet use of a Privacy Charm ensured that their conversation wouldn’t be overhead by nearby patrons, though both had done a thorough scan of Partridge's Pub before speaking. Thus far, they were the only wizards in the place, and they intended to keep it that way.

“Hell of a thing to tell a new mother, that,” James finally replied, forcing his voice to be level. “Lily doesn’t sleep enough as it is, and this is only going to give her nightmares.”

“It gives me nightmares, mate, and I’m only Harry’s godfather.” Sirius ran a hand through his recently-trimmed black hair. “Even Frank looked rattled, and he’s solid as a bloody rock.”

“It’s different when there’s a crazy prophecy about Voldemort and your kid, Padfoot. Dumbledore’s not exactly the nervous type, either, and he’s the one who told us to go into hiding.” James scowled. “Speaking for myself…I’d rather just spit in the bastard’s eye and tell him to do his worst, but I can’t do that to Lily. If Voldemort caught me, he’d force her to choose between me and Harry, and…”

He trailed off with a shudder.

“And that’s the reason you have to, James,” Sirius finished for him. “No one’s calling you a coward for protecting your wife and child.”

“Except for me, you mean,” he sighed.

“Well, you’ve always been dense.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Sirius grinned briefly. “Anytime.”

Somehow, the light response—and the knowledge buried beneath Sirius’ easy smile—threw James off balance. He’d been rehearsing this conversation in his mind ever since Dumbledore had warned him that he, Lily, and Harry would have to go into hiding, yet somehow Sirius’ acceptance of everything made the words harder to say.

The Order’s Inner Circle, the Potters, and the Longbottoms had heard Trelawney’s prophecy for the first time just over an hour ago, and acting normally was almost impossible. Just thinking about it made a chill tear down James’ spine; the words kept echoing in his mind.

“So,” Sirius said when James couldn’t speak. “Dumbledore suggested the Fidelius Charm. Even Voldemort knows the obvious choice for Secret Keeper is me, so when do we start?”

“Padfoot…”

“I’m serious, Prongs.” He didn’t even smile, didn’t pounce on the over-used play on words. “You’ve got to do this, and the sooner the better. Moody already knows, and he’d cover for us in the Auror Division.”

“I can’t ask you do this,” James finally managed to get out around the lump in his throat.

“Good thing you don’t have to, then.”

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Two hours later, they were sitting in the house at Godric’s Hollow with Lily and a (thankfully) sleeping Harry, who was nestled in a baby carrier on the couch between the Potters.

“I had a thought,” Sirius said slowly, watching James’ expression carefully. Lily hadn’t been shocked when told of Sirius’ offer, just grateful, but now her emerald eyes were focused on Sirius full of something akin to reverence. They’d known one another for years, he and Lily, and they’d even been friends after she and James had fallen for one another, but she’d never looked at him like this.

It made Sirius feel guilty, knowing what he was about to suggest.

“I don’t smell smoke,” James replied lightly, making a show of sniffing the air. “Must not be a good one.”

Sirius managed a half smile, knowing it was lopsided. He felt terrible, just thinking this, but… If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the Aurors, it’s that being nice gets people killed. If you’re not suspicious of everyone, you’re going to wind up in a locked vault on Avalon for all eternity. He sucked in a deep breath and plunged in before he could lose the courage to do so.

“I may not be the best person to be your Secret Keeper. I’m willing—more than willing, so don’t think I’m bugging out of anything—but like I said earlier, I am obvious. Every Death Eater knows we’re partners, James, and I’m your oldest friend. If you’re parents were still alive, they might think of someone else, but…”

He trailed off as all three remembered the brutal murders of David and Diana Potter, and then forced himself to continue.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is that if Voldemort wants to find you, he’d know where to look. And while I certainly don’t plan on telling him anything more than my Mum’s terrible recipe for escargo enflambe”—Sirius grinned briefly—“he’d still know who he has to ask.”

“You could go into hiding,” Lily suggest quietly. “Dumbledore said—”

“I know,” Sirius cut her off. “I heard him. But I think a bit of creative misdirection might come in handy here.”

James’ eyes widened in realization. “You mean Remus.”

“I wish I did.” Now here’s the part to feel guilty about, Padfoot-my-boy. “But we know that Voldemort has been recruiting Dark Creatures, making promises—”

“You can’t think Remus would betray us!” Lily cut him off angrily.

“The bastard you never suspect is the one who gets you in the end,” Sirius retorted with one of Moody’s favorite aphorisms. Then he sighed. “Lily, I don’t think he would. But he’s a werewolf, and once a month he can’t control himself. What if they could find a way to get at him then?”

Sirius didn’t finish the argument, glad that Lily’s reluctant nod saved him from doing so. He’d have gladly trusted Remus with his life, or even with James’ or Lily’s, but Harry was a baby. He couldn’t fight back. He couldn’t even understand what was happening. He didn’t have a choice, so they couldn’t be too careful.

“I was thinking of Peter,” he concluded quietly.

“Peter?” James and Lily echoed in unison.

“Yeah. Look at it this way: if I’m the obvious Secret Keeper, and everyone thinks I did it, I go into hiding and the bad guys chase me. Meanwhile, Wormtail slips off, tucks himself into some tiny hole no one can get in, let alone find…and you’ve got two layers of security. Even Dumbledore wouldn’t know that it wasn’t me.”

“Not tell Dumbledore?” Lily asked slowly, frowning. “I’m not really…comfortable with that.”

But Sirius’ eyes were on James.

“I’m not sure I could do that to Peter,” his best friend said after a long moment. He’s only in the Order because we are, and he’s been trying to stay on the fringes of the war. He’s come so far, but…”

“But can you imagine him in Voldemort’s hands?” Lily whispered.

Sirius was trying very had not to.

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By the end of the evening, they’d only managed to delay the decision for a few days while the Potters considered their options. A farewell dinner at James and Lily’s was already planned for October 24th, anyway—something Dumbledore had advised against, but the Marauders simply had to do. They’d decide by then, and whoever planned to be Secret Keeper would stay when the others left.

Peter hadn’t been asked, yet. And Remus would never know. Lily’s words kept echoing in Sirius’ mind, and he’d had nightmare after nightmare envisioning his friend in Voldemort’s hands. The thought of being tortured didn’t bother Sirius so much for himself (at least he tried not to think it did), but for Peter…

The words popped out without his meaning to let them.

“I’m thinking about not being the Potters’ Secret Keeper,” he told Moody on the afternoon before the dinner.

“What kind of birdbrained idiot are you, boy? Constant vigilance! Don’t go blabbing your secrets out for every Death Eater to hear,” the legendary Auror growled at him, snapping his wand out and muttering a Privacy Charm along with a half dozen different shielding spells. They were alone in Moody’s office, which was theoretically secure, but both knew better.

Sirius shrugged helplessly. He really hadn’t meant to be quite so…open about it, but he needed advice. Badly. His attempt at explanation was weak. “Misdirection?”

“Don’t sound so confident,” his former Mentor snorted.

“I’m—”

“I don’t want to know,” Moody cut him off. “Don’t trust anyone, Sirius. Not with this.”

“If you’re a traitor, Alastor, we’re done for,” the younger man retorted. “All of us, the Ministry, the Aurors, and especially the Order. If I can’t trust you, who can I trust?”

“Dumbledore,” was the immediate answer.

“He’s got enough on his mind.”

Moody shrugged. “True enough.” His one live eye zeroed in on Sirius; the other rolled back and forth several times before doing the same. “Mad-Eye” hadn’t had the replacement for long, and it was still giving him problems from time to time. But he was all business, clearly not caring that the wildly rolling eye drove Sirius to distraction. “Now, assuming you blurted that out on purpose and meant to be overheard, the obvious answer is that you do it anyway. Be Jimmy-boy’s Secret Keeper and make everyone think you chickened out.”

“Except—” Sirius tried to object.

“Except that’s the obvious answer, and obvious won’t do. Even the dumb Death Eaters know that, and you’ve got a reputation for being so unpredictable that you surprise yourself,” the other Auror reasoned. “So then the answer is that you don’t do it. And you find someone no one would expect.”

All this double- and triple-think was making Sirius dizzy.

“Of course, you have to find someone with the sheer guts to stand up to torture,” Moody continued dispassionately. “Because Voldemort will catch up with whoever it is, boy. Make no mistake about that.”

Sirius couldn’t help shivering. He might have been offended by the detached acceptance in the other’s voice, but he knew that Alastor had lost a lot of friends in the war and was haunted by each memory, by each might-have-been. He could see the hint of old pain in the blue eye—the real eye—and could see that Alastor hoped he wouldn’t do it.

It was a forlorn hope every Auror shared: Not my friend. Not this time. Sirius knew the feeling well.

If he asked his boss what he should do, Moody would tell him to find someone else and keep bringing the fight to Voldemort. Sirius was his protégée, the most successful Auror of his generation. Someone else could hide; Sirius’ job was to fight. As head of the Auror Division, Moody was obligated to say just that.

If he asked his friend, his teacher, the answer would be the same. They’d grown too close for anything else, and even Moody had his breaking point. Even Moody could only take so much.

Sirius meant to ask. In another lifetime, he would have. But something stopped him.

“I’m going to do it,” Sirius Black said quietly.

And one choice changed it all.

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October 24, 1981

Peter was never told. After dinner was eaten and goodbyes were exchanged, Sirius stayed behind to execute the Fidelius Charm that would protect his best friend and his family. Everyone knew where the Potters were, of course, but that wasn’t the beauty of that old and complicated magic. Voldemort himself could look in the windows of their home and not see the Potters; without being told, he could do nothing.

And they had a bit of time. Several days would pass before the news reached the Dark Lord—officially, the Potters were vacationing in France, “running” just a tad too obviously. So, Sirius went back to work until the other shoe dropped, buying James, Lily, and Harry every moment he could.

Misdirection, Moody called it. Sirius just knew it was necessary. He had to do what he could to save his friend, no matter what it cost. James would do the same, Sirius knew, just as Remus or Peter would. They’d made promises, promises they would keep.

Over a decade would pass before anyone understood how very much one choice could matter.

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Moody introduced them the next day, as Sirius went about his normal life as best he could, coming to work with a reckless grin on his face and not a care in the world.

Gawain Robards was a rookie, barely two days out of his Mentorship with Gideon Prewett. Strictly speaking, he’d needed some more time, but Prewett and his brother had been trapped and murdered, and then there simply hadn’t been anyone available to take the kid on. Sirius was years away from being actual Mentor-material (and trying like hell to keep people thinking that he was too irresponsible to take on a student), but he’d inherited Robards for the time being.

Not that their relationship was going to last long, given the way things were going at the moment. But Sirius would do his best, despite the deer-in-the-motorbike-headlights look that Robards was giving him.

“Robards, meet Sirius Black. You’ll be his new partner,” Moody gestured from one to the other, looking even more grumpy than usual. “Sirius, this pink-cheeked fuzzy child is Gawain Robards. You’ll be babysitting him.”

“Fantastic,” Sirius replied, struggling not to laugh at the shocked expression on the kid’s face. He extended a hand cheerfully. “Nice to meet you.”

“Um, yes—Sirius Black?” Robards squeaked, his hand going limp in Sirius’. “The Sirius Black?”

“The one and only. Seriously Sirius.”

Sometimes, he absolutely couldn't resist.

“You do that again, boy, and I’ll hex you into next year!” Moody barked, making Sirius’ grin grow.

“Don’t mind the old man,” he told his new partner. “He just wishes his parents had named him something that had a such nifty ring to it.”

If possible, Robards’ eyes only got bigger. Sirius, however, just grinned back at Moody, knowing that his old Mentor’s good eye was twinkling. Contrary to popular belief, Moody did actually possess a sense of humor—most people just didn’t get to see it. Sirius, however, knew the crusty Auror well, and half of his poking fun at Robards was aimed Moody’s way. After all, if he couldn’t poke fun at Moody, who could?

“You’re riding for a fall, you are, boy-o,” was Moody’s dark response.

“Usually am. Isn’t that one of the problems you have with me?” Sirius countered, and then flashed Robards a genuine smile. “Why don’t you and I go get acquainted, kid, while Alastor goes off to torment someone else?”

“Sure,” Robards managed to squeak, and Sirius led him away as Moody snorted out laughter behind them.

Robards’ hero-worshiping attitude improved a bit during the following briefing, but if Sirius had honestly thought he’d be with the young Auror for any extended period of time, he’d have gone crazy. He’d become quite well-known as an Auror over the past few years, but he’d never encountered something like this—did the younger generation really see him like that? He was hardly that much older than the lot of them. He’d not expected anyone to admire him so much, and Robards’ obvious wonder gave him the creeps.

Still, as unfair as it was to Robards, the kid’s presence was really only part of the game. Misdirection at its finest—if Sirius acted as if he’d done nothing special, hid out in the open, perhaps Voldemort wouldn’t suspect him as the Potters’ Secret Keeper.

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October 26, 1981

Then the other shoe dropped ahead of schedule.

The offending piece of footwear, of course, was dear cousin Trixie, Bellatrix Lestrange. She was confident enough to come after Sirius alone in the Leaky Cauldron, just naive enough to think that she’d pull it off and win her master’s undying gratitude. She almost didn’t leave.

Sirius’ Dragon’s Breath (a very hard mixture of cider and firewhiskey) was halfway to his mouth when a red jet of light hit it square-on, splattering glass and drink everywhere. With a bit better aim, Bellatrix might have ended the encounter then and there, but even Aurors had a hard time Apparating and hexing someone at the same time. Death Eaters were nasty, but they hardly had the same degree of formal training.

“Get down!” Sirius bellowed at his partner, yanking the younger Auror down when he hesitated.

“Obfirmum!” Bellatrix shrieked as Sirius dove behind a recently upturned table, dragging Robards along with him. He popped his head up to take a quick look-around and fire a curse back her way.

“Stupefy!”

It was a weak opener, and Bellatrix batted the spell aside easily, but at least she’d been distracted long enough for Sirius to see what was going on.

“Crucio!” she shouted in return, but the table took the spell without breaking; thankfully, the furniture in the Leaky Cauldron had long since been reinforced against just about anything (between duels and brawls and misplaced hexes, the Wizarding pub had seen everything) and the spell simply bounced away.

Almost all the patrons had taken cover or Apparated away the moment Bellatrix had popped in; there were few people brave enough to stick themselves in between Aurors and a Death Eater, especially when that Death Eater was notoriously cruel. Of course, Sirius hadn’t exactly chosen the Leaky Cauldron because it was a safe refuge; in fact, he’d come there for the exact opposite reason. If anything was going to tell him that he was on Voldemort’s hit list, coming out in the open would do the trick. Perhaps it was reckless, but he needed to know.

Few people came to the Leaky Cauldron to socialize these days, not with no one able to tell if their neighbor at the bar was a Death Eater, a sympathizer or just plain crazy. No one dared make friends these days, or even casual acquaintances; Wizarding society was on the verge of breaking down as people stayed home and hid, hoping for something—anything—to make things better. Coming out in the open and fighting the Dark Lord made you a target, and few people had the guts or the skills to survive that.

Sirius Black, however, had plenty of both.

“Extundo!” he bellowed, and got his head up just in time to watch the curse hit Bella full-on in the chest. She stumbled and swore, her return spell flying far wide of the table the Aurors sheltered behind and striking the glasses lined up behind the bar.

Crash. Tom the bartender yelped in pain, but Sirius didn’t have time to worry about him.

“Anti-Apparation wards, now!” he ordered Robards.

“What?”

The kid’s voice was shaky, and a quick glance his way showed Sirius a face so white that it might have belonged to a ghost.

“Anti—”

“Debellum!” Bellatrix cut him off, her voice high and furious.

“Everbero!” Sirius shot back, not bothering to watch his cousin’s counter. He twisted back to face Robards. “Anti-Apparation wards, get them up now!”

“Oh! Right—”

He didn’t listen to the rest of the sentence.

“Roteventilo!”

Luck was with him; Sirius’ next try hit, too, even as the fringes of Bellatrix’s next Stunner made his fingers tingle—he hadn’t gotten his hand out of the way in time. But she was flying backwards, spinning over twice in the process, and clearly hurting.

We’ve got her this time—Sirius started to think. But he was too smart to come out of his crouch just yet; even injured, Trixie was dangerous—

Pop.

And she was gone.

“Wards up,” Robards finished lamely.

“Shit,” Sirius sighed, not bothering to put too much emotion into the word. It wasn’t like he’d really expected his little test to catch anyone, anyway; Bellatrix’s ambush had answered the important questions already.

“Sorry about that, Sirius,” Robards said sheepishly. “I thought you had her.”

“So’d I.” He managed to shrug as if it didn’t matter, but Sirius knew it did. Only three days had passed since the casting of the Fidelius Charm, but the game was up.

Pop.

The appearance of “Mad-Eye” Moody made Robards jump. Apparently, he needs to work on those Anti-Apparation wards, Sirius thought wryly. There’s no way Figg would have let him graduate Avalon like this! Moody wasted no time with the startled kid, though; he turned straight to Sirius.

“You got a bolt hole, boy?” the older Auror demanded, stomping his wooden leg against the ground for emphasis. His actions drew the attention of every witch and wizard still in the place, of course—but Moody wasn’t asking questions he already knew the answers for his own health. He was asking to impress the audience.

Every word passed here would get back to Voldemort, and they both knew it. Maybe the news already had reached the Dark Lord, maybe even through young Robards. The Aurors knew there was at least one spy in their ranks, and no one had any idea who might be the traitor. However, the question had now been voiced aloud, and everyone knew Moody wasn’t that careless. A little misdirection…

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded, looking distracted for the crowd. “I’ll—”

“Constant vigilance, Black!” the shout cut him off. “I don’t want to know. Get you gone.”

Of course, Alastor didn’t want to know—he already did, since he was Sirius’ life insurance policy. They’d thought about casting a second Fidelius Charm to protect Sirius, but that was just foolish. It was hard enough magic to manage once, and Moody couldn’t afford to disappear. Neither could Sirius afford to wait for the charm to expire if Moody died in the line of duty.

Anything’s possible, Sirius told himself for the billionth time. I might even survive this.

He smiled at Moody, one last reckless grin, and then Sirius was gone.

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Harry was crying already when the head appeared in their fire. James, however, was too distracted by his munchkin, to even notice the call until Lily’s voice reached Harry’s room.

“James! Get down here, you’ve got a call!”

Even within the safe confines of their home at Godric’s Hollow, she didn’t dare say more—and if that wasn’t a sign of the times, James knew nothing else was. Hidden away and protected by some of the most advanced magic known to Wizardkind, Lily didn’t dare speak Sirius’ name aloud.

And of course it was Sirius. The Secret Keeper was the only one who could make a Fire Call once the Fidelius Charm was in effect; everyone else would just see an empty house, even if the Potters had tried to talk to them. Any Fire Call wasn’t safe, though; the Ministry of Magic could still track calls (as could Voldemort, probably), which meant Sirius didn’t often call—this, in fact, was the first time he’d dared.

“Everything okay?” James asked immediately, hurrying into the room.

“Yep. I’m leaving now. I just thought you should know.”

James recognized the Auror Division’s office in the background—that’s Moody’s office!—and he almost laughed aloud. Moody’s office fire (installed in complete violation of the Ministry of Magic and Auror Regulations) was actually untraceable. Trackers could tell that the call originated in Auror Headquarters, but not where it went.

Then Sirius’ words sank in, and James’ smile vanished.

He swallowed the sudden dry lump in his throat, forcing a deep breath in around it. Speaking was hard. “Thanks. Really. For everything.”

Sirius grinned, and James would always consider this the last image he had of his friend.

“I’ll see you on the other end, Prongs.”

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He left Moody’s office right away and picked up the pre-packed bags from his own flat, shrinking them down in size so that they easily slipped into a pocket of his regulation robes (Aurors had stopped wearing uniforms in public some time ago as a safety precaution, but Sirius had always loved to flout the rules). He couldn’t exactly call the next person, couldn’t risk it, but he had to say goodbye. Somehow.

She knew, of course—he’d never told her that he was James’ Secret Keeper, but to pretend that she didn’t realize that was stupid. Worse than stupid, as she knew Sirius far better than that, and wouldn’t tell anyone, anyway, even if they did ask. And they would. So…Sirius sent her a letter, agonizing longer on those few lines than he had time to waste.

Julia,

I’ll miss you. I’m sorry I can’t say more.

Don’t fall in any holes in Africa, or wherever you are this time. I’ll see you when this is all over.

Sirius

Suicidal, Moody called his relationship with Julia Malfoy. Unhealthy, was Dumbledore’s verdict. On-again, off-again was how Peter described it, and Remus maintained that she was “dangerously good” for Sirius. However you cut it, though, Sirius couldn’t vanish without a trace. Not without telling her something.

Maybe a relationship with a top Death Eater’s sister was a disaster waiting to happen, but Sirius trusted her. He sent the owl on its way moments before he left his flat for the last time, taking a deep breath and raising his wand.

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Sixteen hours, one train ride, three cross-country broom flights, and two dozen Apparations later, Sirius hauled his bags into the rundown flat he was renting under a Muggle identity he’d prepared years ago for a mission and never had used. His broom flew off in yet another direction on its own; accounting for stops along the way, another forty-three hours would pass before it dove into the English Channel and automatically shattered into a thousand-plus pieces. No one knew its flight path except Sirius—even Moody didn’t expect him to settle into his flat for another few days.

Misdirection.

Everyone expected Sirius to get as far away from James as he could, to keep his distance from the Ministry of Magic. Running was a logical part of hiding. Distance meant time, and by getting away, Sirius could give the Potters long enough, perhaps, for Voldemort to decide their son was not important enough to kill.

Sirius, however, was a contradiction for a reason. He believed in hiding in plain sight, which was why he’d chosen a nondescript apartment building located in the outskirts of Muggle London, a place so normal and so close that no one would bother looking there. Of course, he was also a student of Alastor Moody’s Professional School of Pessimistic and Paranoid Aurors, so he also believed in setting up booby traps…lots of booby traps.

The Death Eaters would find him eventually if they tried hard enough, and Sirius would be ready.

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Ye Olde Author’s Note: Here we go! Again, if you haven’t checked out the rest of the UU, feel free to take a look at Promises Unbroken and the follow-on stories, available here on my profile. Also check out the Unbroken Universe Yahoo Group at http:// groups .yahoo .com/group/Unbroken_Universe/ (remove the extra spaces) and the Unbroken Universe Café Press shop at http:// www. cafepress. comunbroken_u. As always, thank you very much for reading, and please do review!