Devil Doesn't Bargain

The Birthday

Remus was the first the arrive at Shell Cottage. It was an old family home and had been used as a safe house by the Order for decades. There was a time when he, Sirius, James, and Peter had stayed there in between missions. It was the place Peter had initially made the suggestion that he be secret keeper. It was the place that Dumbledore had agreed. Of course, he didn't learn about this until later, from Sirius, but it still left a sour taste in his mouth. He hated it.

Remus stomped through the sand. The past month had been beyond frustrating. He was thrilled to be with Harry, and the young Weasley boy was mostly pleasant, but they'd accomplished very little. Being so isolated from the wizarding world stunted any sort of hunt. They had very few resources, both within the Order and outside of it. What they really needed was one contact. One person they could rely on to receive accurate information from. One person who could work with them, instead of the hordes working against them. Remus couldn't help but feel they were fighting a losing battle. There still hadn't been any organized Order meetings that he'd known of, but again, he'd been extremely uninformed lately. He hated not doing anything.

After finding Hufflepuff's cup, they'd spent weeks brainstorming ways to destroy the horcrux without Gryffindor's Sword. Finally, he'd heard the entire story about Harry's second year at Hogwarts and realized they might be able to use a basilisk fang. They'd even gone so far as to attempt a break-in, but it soon became apparent that entrance was impossible without a friendly Death Eater to let them inside.

He'd interrogated the boys to see if they knew of anyone, anyone, they might try to make contact with. Perhaps there was an old Slytherin classmate that was forced into serving Voldemort that would be sympathetic to Harry Potter. Ron had lost his mind at the suggestion, ranting about how every Slytherin was just as bad as the rest, and there was no way he was trusting a single slimy one of them. Harry had at least listened as Remus described the boy he'd known during the first wizarding war. A boy who was born into the wrong family, forced into the service of the dark lord and chose on his own to defy him. But Harry hadn't known Regulus; he was too far removed. So they continued on, dropping the conversation.

For now. Remus adored Harry, but he wasn't his godfather. He wouldn't mind going behind the young boy's back if it meant saving them all. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that, but Remus kept that possibility safe in the back of his mind, storing it for later.

He shuffled up the remaining incline and came to an abrupt halt. He quickly turned around to check his surroundings. No...this was definitely the right beach. Remus scratched his head anxiously, tangling his curls even more. He'd only come here on the off chance that an Order member would be stationed here. They were desperate for any news at this point.

But the cottage wasn't there. He squinted. Was that dust in the air? Remus closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Even from this distance, his enhanced senses could pick it up: ash. His eyes snapped open and he hurried forward. He crested the hill and gaped at the desolation.

The entire property was burned to the ground; Remus carefully picked his way through the remains. No natural fire reduced a fully furnished safe house to nothing like this; it had to be magical. So who would do this? He supposed an Order member could have to erase any sensitive information. Remus doubted it, though. Why destroy a perfectly good safe house?

Now Death Eaters...this was certainly more their style. He'd seen Voldemort's followers favor arson many times over, and if they'd somehow identified Shell Cottage as an Order base...yes, that would make sense. It was unpleasant but logical. A small part of him was happy the old building had burnt to the ground.

Remus kicked a charred piece of wood and continued searching the area. The boys were supposed to come looking for him in five minutes if he hadn't returned. He quickened his pace.