Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.
Inspired by the Ministry fight, this is a pair of double-drabbles, 200 words each, telling the story of two turncoats. Note the summary: This story is not for Lupin-lovers. Enter at own risk.
Fortune favours the quick-witted. When I saw Dumbledore arrive, I realised this was my chance. Destroy the prophecy as I had destroyed the Horcrux, let myself be taken – Azkaban without Dementors is a safer refuge than most – and establish my alibi for any Death Eater crimes committed after my incarceration.
If the Dark Lord wins, I have taken my punishment; if he loses, which seems likely, my lawyers will argue that this was the only safe way to disenrol from his service. A fine, some testimony against my former-fellows and I may yet go free. And if I do not, Azkaban is still better than dead.
I never wished the Dark Lord's return, why would I? A life of ease and political influence is far preferable to being at the beck and call of a torture-loving lunatic whose immortality guarantees he will never need a successor. Ah, had I known that when I joined, how much trouble I'd have been saved.
A well-placed spell sent both real and alternate prophecy child tumbling. A rip, a kick, a crash and the prophecy smashed. For the moment, I have retired from the game. No matter, I will wait. My time may come.
A/N Lucius's reference to having "destroyed the Horcrux" suggests that he planted the diary on Ginny in the expectation that it would be eventually discovered and destroyed, but preferably not until it had damaged the standing of both Arthur and Albus, his old enemies/rivals.
OotP, ch 35:"Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Neville again … A spell hit the stone bench at Harry's heel; it crumbled away and he fell back to the step below. Neville sank to the ground … He gave another stupendous heave and Neville's robes tore all along the left-seam – the small, spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and, before either of them could catch it, one of Neville's floundering feet kicked it: it flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step below … 'Dubbledore!' said Neville …"
Canon doesn't specify who sent that spell or exactly when Dumbledore, whom Neville spotted in the doorway immediately after the prophecy dissolved into nothing, had arrived.
The Marauders were never my real pack, just a temporary substitute. Granted, they became Animagi for me, but true friends would have become werewolves, my brothers all month round.
Then Padfoot sent me Severus. A poor substitute, but better than none. Only Prongs wouldn't allow it. I was his tame werewolf; he didn't need two.
I'd have killed him then if I could, alpha or no. Selfishly to deprive me of my greatest need, my pack, rather than lose the Forest once a month. Two weres together might be able to bring down a stag, where one could not. I tried anyway, snapping at his heels down the tunnel till he escaped and turned, antlers ready. Pity.
Perhaps he dimly sensed my secret rage. After we left school, slowly we separated. I was sent to spy and, in the "enemy", I found my brothers.
Men say you catch more flies with honey. (Poor Severus never understood that.) After Padfoot returned, apologising and trusting anew, I bided my time. At the Ministry, I found it. You all thought it was Bellatrix's hex that sent him through the Veil, not mine. I hide my smile and wait, teeth sharp, for another straggler.
A/N OotP, ch 35:
"Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light … The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest … his eyes widened in shock … Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell … Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back."
Canon doesn't specify who sent that second Stunner. Lupin was nearby; he had the opportunity and I've given him the motive.