Chapter 11

I landed on cold, wet grass under a cloudy and starless sky. My heart raced, and I was almost sick, coughing raggedly into the ground beneath my head as I struggled to my knees. I hated Portkeys. Always had ever since the Triwizard Tournament. My hand brushed against rough-hewn stone, and I grasped it, trying to right myself. I shook my head, begging my eyes to hurry up and adjust to the darkness around me. I smelled earth, felt the cold mist, but sensed no one around. Slowly my eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, and I stood with my back to the stone, trying to figure out where I was.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” I muttered to myself sotto voce. Thank Merlin I had kept my wand tucked into my trousers. Standing still, I listened carefully. After five minutes had gone by without a single sound, I whispered Lumos and shone the soft light around me. I was surrounded by large, ancient boulders, some standing upright, others long since toppled over. Someone had Portkeyed me directly into the center of Stonehenge.

“Fuck me sideways,” I whispered, noticing something ahead. Was it a person, or another boulder? I inched forward, nervous not to have the cold comfort of the stone guarding my back. As I approached, I realized it was, in fact, a person, but a very still, silent one. One leg was bent at an awkward angle, and its hands were bound above its head, which lolled backward in a parody of sleep. Whoever this one was, he or she wasn't with us any longer.

I shone the light around me, checking for attackers, and only when I was convinced I was alone with the body did I shine my wand down toward it. A silver knife protruded from the man's chest, a still-warm trickle of blood pooling around it. I moved the wand closer to the man's face.

“Shite. Shite, shite, bloody shite, shite on a cracker,” I said over and over again, my voice growing recklessly louder. It was Remus Lupin, and he was lying dead at my feet. I couldn't help myself. I've seen plenty of bodies, including too many of my loved ones, but … I turned and vomited loudly into the grass, retching until I thought I might have tasted the soles of my shoes. Wiping my face on my sleeve, I turned back.

“I'm sorry, Remus. I've got to go for help, I need to alert the … the authorities,” I said lamely to his body, aware that there wasn't anything I could do to help. Turning away, I raised my wand to send a Patronus to Ron. But before I could, I heard three distinct pops from outside the ring of stones. I raised my wand and backed up against the slab that held Remus's body. I may not have been able to protect him, but I would be damned if I would let anyone do anything else to him. My knees hit the back of the slab, and I stumbled, my other hand flying backward to steady myself. It hit the knife, cocking it to one side, and I ended up with one hand pressed to Remus's motionless chest.

“Who's there?” I rasped.

“Harry?” I heard Ron's voice calling as if from a hundred kilometres away.

“Ron! Ron, in here!” I called back.

Ron walked into the center of the circle of stones, wand raised. He was followed by Robards and White. “Harry, what's going on ... oh, Merlin, Harry, is that Remus?” he gasped.

“Ron, you've got to believe me,” I said. “Someone planted a Portkey in my office, and when I touched it, I ended up here. I found him here ... he's dead. There was nothing I could do,” I finished, feeling more pitiful than I had in years.

“You found him like this?” Ron asked, motioning to Remus's body. “He was bound and ... stabbed?”

“Yeah, just like this,” I hastened to explain. “I landed over there, by that stone.” I gestured with my wand, noticing that Robards and White gripped their own wands more tightly when I did so. “I waited for a few minutes, trying to see in the dark, trying to listen for anyone around me, but there wasn't any. When I lit my wand, I saw him. He was tied up and the knife was in his chest. He was already dead.”

“White, check it out,” Robards motioned the other Auror over toward the body. “Potter. You say that someone planted a Portkey in your office?”

“They must have done, sir,” I said. “I emptied out the box of papers that I brought home from the office today, and I got frustrated, and I kicked it, and out fell this pen, and when I touched it, I wound up here.” I knew I was babbling, but I just had to get it all out. I had to make sure Ron believed me.

“Robards, he's definitely dead,” White called. “There's a silver knife in his chest. From the looks of things, he couldn't have been dead longer than half an hour at most. He's still warm, sir.”

“Take him in,” Robards said, gesturing at me.

My eyes widened. “Sir ... sir! You can't think that I did this. Remus is ... was ... my friend! I told you what happened. Ron! You believe me, don't you?”

I stared at my best friend, trying to find solace in his eyes, but he wouldn't look at me. I might as well have been stabbed with that knife too, for all the pain I was in. But I had no choice. I had to go in. Tears of impotent rage and hurt leaked from the corners of my eyes, but I presented my wrists to White, who magically handcuffed me.

“Ron, please ...” I whispered. Silently, Ron took one arm, White the other, and a minute later, we were in Robards' office.

Robards himself joined us twenty minutes later, having escorted Remus's corpse to St. Mungo's Morgue. Ron and White hadn't left my side, but try as I might, I couldn't get Ron to look at me. I kicked my heels annoyingly in an aimless pattern against the leg of my chair, wiggling my fingers to keep some feeling in them.

“Alright, Potter, you've got some serious explaining to do,” Robards said in a tone of voice I'd only heard him use on hardened criminals.

“I have nothing to explain. I've already told you exactly what happened,” I said, looking him straight in the eye.

“No, you've told me your version of how things happened, and I must admit, Potter, there are gaping holes in your story,” he snapped. “You can't honestly expect me to believe that days ago, someone mysterious snuck into the middle of the Auror Department, planted a Portkey in your office that you only just discovered tonight, and whisked you off to Stonehenge, alerting us just in time to find you standing over the still warm corpse of Remus Lupin, the ex-husband of your current … flame ... and the father of your poisoned godson, a knife with your fingerprints on it buried to the hilt in his chest?”

My mouth dropped. Merlin's bollocks on a cracker, it sounded ludicrous, but the sad thing was it was the truth. “I ... yes, sir, I do expect you to believe that because that's exactly what happened.” Some secret part of me was very proud that my voice didn't shake when I answered him.

Robards gaped at me. “You've got some bollocks on you, Potter,” he sneered. “We've searched your house. We found the pen you claim is a Portkey, but again, it only has your fingerprints on it. Harcourt touched it, and yet he's standing outside this door, not in the middle of bloody Stonehenge.”

“But that would make sense,” I interjected. “Portkeys stop working after one use, so of course he's here and not there.”

“That doesn't explain how your fingerprints ended up on the knife in Lupin's chest, does it?” Robards thundered down at me.

“When I heard you three Apparate in, I couldn't see you. I backed up against the slab, but I lost my balance, and when I reached back to steady myself, I grabbed the knife by accident. It's coincidence!” I rebutted.

“Coincidence, just like your fingerprints are the only other ones on the letter Tonks got under her door?” Robards countered.

“Yes. Exactly like that!” I said, steaming.

“Then how do you explain this letter?” Robards said, shoving a piece of parchment across his desk at me.