- Text Size +
Do You Know the Way?


Regulus Black’s arm burned.

The Mark upon his wrist, usually so pitch black against his pale skin, now stood out scalet on his flesh. He balled his fist against the agony of its ache and he bit his lower lip so hard it bled as he sat in the chair before the fire place, his arm shaking as he resisted answering the summoning of the Dark Lord.

He was sweating with the agony of it.

Maryrose sat on the arm of the chair and held against his forehead, trying to comfort him as much as she could as tears filled his eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” Maryrose whispered, dragging the cloth over his her skin.

“He can’t win, Maryrose,” Regulus choked the words out. “He can’t. What if he does? What if he rules all the world like this? With secret and lies and deceit? What would happen?”

She sighed, not even wanting to imagine such a thing as Voldemort winning for how terrible the wizarding world - and the world in general too actually.

Suddenly there came frantic knocking upon the door and Regulus and Maryrose both looked up at it in shock and fear and Regulus stood up quickly, careful not to knock Maryrose off the arm of the chair, and he hissed, “Bloody hell, he’s found us.” He drew his wand, wincing at the bending of the dark mark as he moved.

“They can’t of found us,” breathed Maryrose, “He would never dream of knocking.”

Regulus didn’t know if he would put anything past the Dark Lord. If there was one thing he knew for sure it was that Voldemort certainly loved putting on a good show and the creepy knocking upon the door was increasing their anxiety levels…

“Hey, open up in there, it’s me!” called a voice. Sirius.

Maryrose looked at Regulus warily. “What if it’s polyjuice?” she whispered.

Regulus gripped his wand tighter. He went to the door and he took a deep breath - as deep a one as the pain he felt would allow him to - and he made his move quickly. He tore open the door, reached through, grabbed hold of the knocker’s throat, shoving them back across the hall as hard and fast as he could so as to maintain the shock factor, and pressed his wand directly to the heart of him. “Prove it’s you.”

Sirius stared at him in surprise.

“PROVE IT’S YOU, SIRIUS, AND NOT SOME DEATH EATER IN DISGUISE!”

Once upon a time, there was a dog name Snuffles,” Sirius began. The instant the words were out of his mouth, Regulus began to ease up. “He was a shaggy dog, with the darkest black fur you’ve ever seen...” Sirius’s eyes burned into Regulus’s, and he finished, “And he needs your help to save his best mate, Reg.”

Regulus dropped the grip he had on Sirius - it hadn’t been much of one anyway. He fact that Sirius hadn’t just thrown him off in the exchange showed that Sirius hadn’t believed Regulus would actually hex him. A million flashbacks of duels in which the brothers had faced off as kids, always threatening each other with hexes and curses and never actually doing it, flooded both their minds for a flash of a moment, as Regulus stepped back and lowered his wand.

“You’re back even sooner than I thought,” he commented.

Sirius paused for a long moment, then looked into Regulus’s eyes with a solemn expression. “I never should have left in the first place.”

Maryrose hovered nervously in the door frame behind them, biting her lower lip, her eyes travelling from the two Black Brothers to the nervous expression upon Remus Lupin’s face as he stood watching, too, his eyes trained on Sirius.

Sirius straightened his waistcoat, which had become jostled by Regulus’s attack, and he cleared his throat, “Do you know where Voldemort is keeping James Potter?”

Regulus shook his head, “No. Only that he has him… and he’s being tortured.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened at these words. Then, summoning all the strength he had in him to get over the idea of his best mate in pain, he asked, “Is there any reason why they might be at Durmstrang?”

Regulus’s eyebrows knit together, “Durmstrang?”

“Snape went to Evans,” Sirius explained, and he drew out the scroll she’d sent, holding it out to Regulus as though it were a delicate item. “She mentioned James being there and acting funny and then asked the location of Durmstrang.”

Regulus had just finished the letter. He looked up at his brother again. “I mean, Durmstrang is a school,” he said, “I don’t know why he would --”

Sirius’s stared.

Regulus paused.

“All of the Future Death Eaters Club blokes from Slytherin are gone,” Sirius whispered, “Have been all term. They’ve gone somewhere, Regulus. They’ve gone to Durmstrang, haven’t they? To be taught the Dark Arts.”

Regulus didn’t know what to say.

Sirius continued, “We know he used Snape in his plan. So there are likely more of them involved. Schools are so hard to find and penetrate, he might think he’s safe from having to worry about a rescue mission.”

Regulus felt chills going up and down his spine and arms.

“Well. He might have to worry about it, Reg, because I refuse to rest a wink until I’ve taken James Potter back from him.” Sirius’s voice was low, solemn, “The problem is that very few can find Durmstrang,” he whispered. “Only those who have been invited.”

Sickness in Regulus’s stomach.

“If all of the death eaters are there,” Sirius said darkly, “Then surely you have been invited as well.”

Regulus swallowed the nerves that crawled their way through his belly. “Yes,” he whispered.

Sirius said, “And do you know the way?”

“I have a… a general idea,” whispered Regulus. “But I don’t know how we would get there. We wouldn’t be able to disapparate. It’s too far. Even for Kreacher.”

Sirius looked frustrated.

“And we can’t fit all of us onto a broomstick in order to fly,” Regulus continued.

Remus spoke up, “I… I might have an idea.”

They all turned to look at him and he stared about from face to face, “The Morris Mini.”




Lily’s hands shook as she stood, trying to regain herself. She unfolded the wool coat from her arm and pulled it back over her shoulders and tried to button up, though her fingers were shaking so violently that she couldn’t quite line them up right. The image of that poor little watch, laying upon the counter, Mopsus’s finger forcing it to tick, forcing it to live… the words he’d spoken about her and James and the feeling of her tightened chest as the time had left her, as time had been allocated to that little watch and the cogs with in had begun their spinning on their own…

Suddenly the door behind her slammed opened and she turned around in surprise at the sound of it. “Lilith Erin Evans!” Sirius’s voice was excited as he thundered down the stairs of the porch and over the walkway to the stunned Lily, flinging his arms about her, “I got your letter! I know he’s acting oddly - Lil, he’s just not himself - rather literally.” Sirius pulled back, holding her out at arm’s length and she saw Remus and… and Regulus Black and Maryrose Jenkins coming up behind him, Remus glancing over his shoulders into the house as the front door was pulled shut quietly by Regulus, whose eyes were twitched and narrowed and his fist balled….

Lily said, “Where’s he gone? He said goodbye!”

James didn’t,” Sirius emphasized. “It’s Snape that’s done it.”

“Snape? Severus Snape?” Lily asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Snape’s been using polyjuice potion to mask himself, to play at being James,” Remus intoned from over Sirius’s shoulder.

“On the Dark Lord’s command,” added Regulus Black.

“Voldemort has James,” Maryrose confirmed.

“Since the day he fell from the dock at Hogwarts,” Remus added.

Sirius announced, “And we’re going to rescue him.”

Lily’s skin had gone cold, her heart near to stopping. Sanity told her to question it, to argue that the words Sirius had spoken just couldn’t be true, but a flashback from standing on queue at Fortescues and the way James had grabbed onto her hand - the way she’d had to tell him more than once to let go... James Potter never did that to her. She thought of how he’d just ordered for her, hadn’t let her choose… how he’d been so weird about recalling the caramel corn ice cream flavor… how he’d acted, how he’d moved, how he’d spoken… She remembered the way his eyes hadn’t seemed quite right….

“Oh my gods,” she breathed and the strength went out from her knees. Sirius caught her before she could fall, and he supported her, letting her lean against him as the truth struck her down. “Oh god, what have I done.”

“It isn’t you,” Sirius murmured. “It’s just as much me as it is you.”

And he meant it.

“It’s neither of you,” Remus argued.

Lily felt tears burning her eyes, threatening to fall.

“Is that the flying car?” Regulus asked, pointing to the Morris Mini. He felt too exposed standing here in the Lupin’s front yard and he desperately needed to get out of the open. His mark was still burning a rather excruciating pain, “We can talk on the way,” he added.

“On the way?” Lily looked to the car, then back to the others.

“Yes darling, of course, as I’ve said - we’re rescuing Prongs!” Sirius announced again, “And we’ll be needing your lovely little car to do it in.” He turned her, walking toward the Morris Mini, “Come, come. We take to the skies to Durmstrang! This very moment! And we do not return ‘til we’ve got him back.”




James had felt it.

The tightening of his heart when the cogs stopped moving, when Kostos Mopsus had paused in his administrations to transfer the precious seconds.

The cruciatus upon him, one might think that he wouldn’t have felt the tightening of the muscle.

Except that when his heart had stopped, for just the fraction of a moment that it had taken Kostos Mopsus to work his magic, James had felt… peace.

Peace that he had not felt since the dock had been blasted.

Peace that he had not felt since he’d been taken and tortured.

Peace that he would have liked to have kept on feeling.

But the heart had started again, and he’d choked and spat and there had been Peter Pettigrew, blurry and far off across the room, shouting something - words that sounded as blurry as James felt… and the Dark Lord’s shadow casting over Pete… flashes of light, jets of sparks… and Peter on the ground and the Dark Lord’s laughter… and James knew he should fight, knew he should find some way to get up and protect Peter Pettigrew…

But he was just so… tired…

And he closed his eyes, hoping that the peace would return soon.