*Easy.* Moony warned. *One thing at a time. So. James is not dead. We don’t know what the potion does in reaction to the curse. Therefore, we need to let the wizarding world assume that they’re dead, and the funerals need to commence as planned.*
*Yes. The potion will preserve him, and pureblood tradition requires that they both be encased in the Potter family crypt, not the graveyard. His body will be preserved and safe. The world must believe that they’re both dead. For now. Including Dumbledore.*
Remus growled again, low and rumbling.
*Yield, wolfling.* Moony said gently. *You know that I am right.* He waited, watching as the wizard’s emotions slowly subsided. *Let us return home, check on Harry, and make plans.* He continued quietly. *We will not allow our pack mate to remain unprotected, Remus. But now is not the time.*
They apparated back home, in no mood to take the long way. After taking care of Harry and himself, Remus sat at his table with some parchment, thinking.
“I should probably get in the habit of talking to you in my head.” He said wryly. “I’m considered to be mental enough as it is by the rest of society.”
Moony snickered, accepting the unspoken apology. *A problem for another day. You think better out loud, Professor.*
The wizard grunted at the teasing nickname, which had been bestowed upon him by James and Sirius within the first month of their friendship, but let it go. “So, since we have to wait, I might as well make plans for what we’re going to do once we have him.” He mused, pulling out some parchment and a quill. “ I can come back after the funerals and get his body with no one the wiser.”
“Sirius needs to know about James, yes. I owe him that much. But first, I need to know the truth.” He ‘looked’ at his companion. “Can we wolf-Apparate to Azkaban?”
*Yes. Sirius is still Pack, though the bond is weak. I cannot shield you from the Dementors in human form though, so we need information quickly.*
“Good. Let’s not waste any time then.”
Remus wolf-apparated directly into Sirius’s cell at Azkaban. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dank dimness of the barren space. He staggered as the violent sea winds shoved him a few more steps inside, towards the back wall.
What he had believed to be a leftover, forgotten or discarded pile of rags rustled and moved. A long legged, shaggy, coal black dog emerged from the darkness, stiff legged and growling, head lowered in warning as it glared at Remus.
“Change, Black.” Remus ordered, letting Moony rumbled through his voice and eyes, which were full gold. “We need to talk.”
The dog held his gaze balefully for a long moment, before slowly morphing, lengthening, changing to the man whom Remus had once called his best friend and brother.
Sirius had always been roguishly handsome, with his coal black hair and clear ice blue, almost silver, eyes, and his aristocratic features. Three days in Azkaban under the devastating effects of the Dementors had aged him twenty years, though fire and awareness still burned in his eyes.
“Why?” Remus demanded fiercely. “Why are they saying that you betrayed James and Lily, that you killed Peter? What happened, Sirius?”
“Peter. Murderer. Rat. Secret betrayer. Ickle little Wormtail, who would’ve ever thought the rat was truly a rat? A rat, with the heart of a worm and the colors of a Gryffin!” Sirius cackled. “Dead men tell no tales. Switch the secret, no one will ever know!”