Of Arrogant Toerags and

Of Arrogant Toerags and Rabid Redheads
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/31346966.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Category: F/M, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom
Character: James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter
Pettigrew, Frank Longbottom, Alice Longbottom, Marlene McKinnon,
Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall
Additional Tags: Romance, Action, Comedy, Action/Adventure, Romantic Comedy,
Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Fluff, Angst, Humor
Stats: Published: 2021-05-17 Updated: 2021-12-27 Chapters: 32/? Words:
253913
Of Arrogant Toerags and Rabid Redheads

by messengeroflove
Summary
James and Lily are polar opposites, yet exactly the same.
One a Marauder, the other a Prefect, both brilliant and marvellous in their own right and,
according to Sirius, both complete idiots.
A Sixth Year Lily Evans finds herself inexplicably drawn to a changing James Potter.
James finds it impossible to draw himself away from her. They are as similar and different
as a Stag and a Doe.
A Good Day
A pile of dishes stared at Lily Evans, and Lily Evans stared back.
Her wand was feeling very heavy in her back pocket, but she didn't reach for it.
"Does she not know how to wash a dish?"
Vernon Dursley was very bad at whispering. Or maybe he wanted her to hear him, Lily couldn't
say.
"She's not the greatest dishwasher," her mother conceded. Then, with a worried tone to her voice,
she called, "Lily dear, you will wash those dishes, won't you? By hand?"
"Yeah Mum, I've got this."
Because she did, in fact, have this.
"Oh, you have an electric dishwasher?" Vernon peered into the kitchen, craning what little neck he
had. The bushy caterpillar posing as his moustache quivered on his lip each time he opened his
mouth.
"No," Mr Evans addressed Vernon for the first time that night. "The only automatic dishwasher we
have is our Lily here." He gave a booming laugh that was definitely not his normal laugh, and
stuck out his chest a little more than he already had.
Vernon seemed confused. "If you don't have an electric dishwasher, then why ask Lily if she will
wash them by hand? I mean, how else would she wash them? Magic?" Now it was Vernon's turn to
let out a booming laugh.
The Evans family all gave Vernon uncomfortable smiles. Except Lily, obviously. She was much
too busy washing dishes and hating Vernon Dursley with everything she had.
Vernon cleared his throat, filling out the silence a little bit. "Well, I had best be off," he announced
eventually, standing at his full height.
Mr Evans stood too, walked over to Vernon chest-first, and they shook hands. "That's a shame," Mr
Evans told him with a straight face somehow. "What are we losing you to?"
"My sister, Marge, needs my support right now. She's going through a rather tough time."
Lily's mother's eyes filled with concern. "Goodness, what happened to her?"
"Her new dog, Terror, passed away."
Mrs Evans sighed and leaned back, shaking her head. "How awful. What was the cause?"
Vernon cleared his throat again.
"She sat on it."
Now that put a smile on Lily's face.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The pile of dishes was still not even halfway washed, but Lily didn't care anymore. Nothing could
ruin her good mood.
"Marge killed her dog," she sang quietly. It was getting late, and her parents had already gone off to
sleep. "Marge's dog is dead."
She was definitely in a good mood.
I don't need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!
"Terror got sat on, Terror got sat on, dah, dee, doo, dah, day."
Lily, I said I was sorry a hundred times. You know I didn't mean it.
"For there once was a dog named Terror."
Will I at least see you around before term starts? We can go to Diagon Alley together!
"And Terror had a very good life."
But we always go to Diagon Alley together! Lily, don't you see? This is exactly what Potter wants!
"But my sister's boyfriend's sister killed him."
Lily. Lily, please!
"And soon she'll be his wife."
Lily!
She looked at her reflection in a plate.
"You know, Evans," she told the plate, "You're not too hard on the eyes."
She wiped the plate off, and looked at it again.
"Not too hard at all," she decided.
Alright, Evans?
Humming her little tune, she put the plate aside and picked the next one up.
"Terror got sat on, Terror got sat on."
Yes, she was in a very good mood indeed. After all, things could only get better going forward. So
what reason could anyone possibly have to not be happy?
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"I am terminally ill," said Mr Potter.
James and Sirius stared at him in stunned silence.
"I found out two weeks ago."
He leaned back in his seat, and drummed his fingers on his desk. It was polished wood. Everything
in Mr Potter's study seemed polished. It wasn't tidy by any means, with folders and memos and
books strewn about the place, but there was some sort of order to the madness. The books were
stacked, the memos were grouped alphabetically, and the folders were color-coded. A messy, yet
polished system.
"W-What do you mean?" James eventually croaked. "Wizards don't get 'terminally ill', only
Muggles do. There must be a mistake."
Mr Potter surveyed James for a moment from behind his desk. Sirius was still speechless.
"You're quite right, James. So then tell me how this is possible."
James stared at him hard, sitting forward in his seat. "Last month," he said slowly. "In the Prophet,
it said you led a raid on the Goyle residence."
An encouraging nod from Mr Potter.
"Only one casualty," Sirius said quietly.
Mr Potter sighed now, and gave them both a sad smile. He ran a hand through his hair, messy and
dark though peppered with grey. "You two are among the brightest boys Hogwarts has ever seen,
I'd wager."
"Lethargic, weakened, no appetite," James listed off quickly, not listening.
"He sleeps for fifteen hours a day, one meal a day, with paling skin," Sirius added, matching James'
urgency.
The two boys looked at each other, frowning.
"What are those symptoms?" James wondered.
"A variant of Spattergroit?"
"Can't be, the skin wouldn't pale. Could it be a curse?"
"I don't think so. The curse would have to be Dark Magic to be this strong, and the Goyle raid had
no arrests."
"Don't bother, boys," Mr Potter cut in, taking his glasses off and inspecting them. "I was seen to by
St Mungo's best, and they couldn't identify the cause."
"Is that right?" James stood suddenly and turned to Sirius. "Send word to Remus and Peter. Tell
them to come immediately. I'm no potions expert, but I'll see what books we have in our main
study and I'll brush up as best I can before they get here."
Sirius nodded and stood, too.
"Boys."
It was the loudest they had heard Mr Potter speak for a long time. Now that James thought about it,
since he and Sirius had come home for the Summer his father hadn't raised his voice once.
"Boys, sit. Please."
James and Sirius were still for a moment, but after a quick glance at each other, they slowly took
their seats again.
Mr Potter ran a hand through his hair again. Not for the first time, James was struck by how much
it seemed like he was watching an older version of himself sitting behind that desk.
"I didn't tell you this just to have the four of you cook up some hair-brained scheme to help me."
Mr Potter's tone was matter-of-fact, demanding the two boys to understand. "I'm beyond helping.
This illness will kill me before long."
"I'll find a cure," James said immediately.
Mr Potter snorted. "What a great idea. How did the St. Mungo's staff not think of that?"
"Lack of imagination, I'd expect," James hypothesized.
"We are quite imaginative," Sirius nodded.
Mr Potter sighed once again. "Don't waste your time. Please, if nothing else, don't waste your time,
boys. With the talents and resources the two of you have, no, the four of you have, you can make
changes to the world the likes of which an old man like myself could only dream of. You're both
young. You have whole lives ahead of you. Please don't waste your time."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Sitting on the roof of Potter Manor, James was afforded a lovely view in the moonlight. The
house-elves kept the garden maintained to perfection. Trees were sculpted into lions and
hippogriffs and dragons, enchanted lanterns floated around the estate, shining yellows and golds
and reds across the extensive lawn. It was a kaleidoscope of Gryffindor spirit and Potter-ness that
James would never get tired of. He didn't like flaunting his wealth, but at times like these he
couldn't help but marvel at it.
"I thought I'd find you up here."
It was Sirius. James didn't need to look. He'd really expected Sirius to find him before long,
anyway.
"Hey, Padfoot."
Sirius sat down next to him.
They were quiet for a good few minutes. Sirius gazed up at the stars, searching for something.
Whatever it was, he didn't find it.
"We could still do it, you know."
James knew what he was talking about, but he waited for Sirius to elaborate anyway.
"Find a cure, I mean. Moony and Wormtail would be here in a heartbeat, and you know there's
nothing the Marauders can't do."
James waited a long moment before he answered. "It would be a waste."
Sirius hesitated. "A waste of time?"
A nod. "That's what the old man said."
They were quiet for another few minutes. Thinking and looking. Processing.
Predictably, it was Sirius who broke it again. "My dad, or at least my biological one, once sat me
and Reg down when we were kids," he said, his tone the sort one would use when talking about
the weather.
James hadn't heard Sirius tell a lot of stories about his father, and listened with surprised interest.
"He told us 'The Grindylow without horns must be put down, its defect removed from the gene
pool. Those with more are worth more.' I thought at the time it was a lesson about how to breed
Grindylow. Turned out to be Pureblood propaganda."
James snorted. "Sounds like a real role-model."
"Yeah. Well, no, he was the worst. I'm well shot of him, mate."
"Right. And so your point was...?"
"Didn't really have a point," Sirius admitted. "Just thought I'd share it."
James didn't know what to say to that, and Sirius seemed to guess that James wasn't much for
talking just then. James relished this silence, needed it, at least for a moment.
The red and gold lanterns seemed to paint the grounds of Potter Manor with a melancholy brush
that night. Shadows and silhouettes popped out to James as he gazed across the property, bringing
memories to the forefront of his mind, unbidden, that James wasn't particularly keen to delve into.
But delve he did. Into duels in the corridor, nights in the forest, beating Peter with pillows in the
dorm room, and his own advances of one particular redhead.
Ideas collected in James' head. Less than ideas, really. More of just gut feelings. Feelings that he
was doing it all wrong, somehow. That so far, he had only done the opposite of what his father had
just advised: wasting his time. For the life of him though, he couldn't quite figure out why. He was
perfectly happy with everything he did. Maybe he just wanted... more?
James hoped his best friend could make something of it all.
"Padfoot?"
"Mhmm?"
"We need to do better. Be better."
Sirius said nothing.
"There's a war out there. And it's going to kill my Dad. Sirius, are we really going to spend our last
two years at Hogwarts pranking First Years and cursing Slytherins? Is that the Marauders' legacy?
Is that the best I can do?"
Still nothing.
"Granted, I don't have any better ideas, but... you said it yourself. We're the Marauders. There's
nothing we can't do. Right? So let's do... more."
It wasn't coming out the way he wanted.
"More how?" Sirius asked at last.

James grimaced. "I'm sort of just hoping we'll figure it out as we go. But surely for a start it can't
hurt to, I don't know, be nicer? You know, to First Years, or Slytherins... and First Year
Slytherins."
Sirius considered this for a moment, before responding.
"If a First Year is a snotty little brat-"
"Then we can prank them."
A pause.
"And Snivellus?"
James grinned. "I think we can still make time for an old pal like that, don't you?"
Satisfied, Sirius nodded. "That's all a Marauder can ask for, my dear Prongs. I'm all in. So what sort
of mature rot are you thinking?"
A wry smile. "You should know, Padfoot old boy, that I don't think about mature things before I do
them. Otherwise I'll just talk myself out of it."
The Mark
"Five Galleons is a lot to pay for some owl treats," Lily mused to herself.
Eeylops Owl Emporium was mostly empty, but for a few sad saps who'd left their shopping for
two days before term started. Lily, of course, bought everything she needed as soon as her letter
came. Today she was simply killing time - Petunia had her nasty friends over, and Lily wasn't keen
to spend the day with people she didn't like.
"You're right, Evans, that is a lot for some owl treats."
Lily jumped out of her skin, and turned around to find James Potter standing by her side, grinning
his lopsided grin. She whacked him on his shoulder. "Potter! Don't sneak up on me like that."
He ignored her and continued walking down the aisle, examining owl treats like they were the
most interesting thing he had ever seen. "Of course, I'm more of a Hippogriff person myself," he
continued.
Lily narrowed her eyes and followed him along the aisle. She could see the smirk on his face as she
trailed after him, but she didn't much care. "You can't send mail with a Hippogriff," Lily informed
him.
"Of course I can, Evans. It would just take a little imagination. I could give the Hippogriff a big
bag full of mail, and it could drop a letter off to each house through the chimney like Santa Claus."
Lily smiled, but was careful not to let James see it as they continued strolling down the aisle. James
would bend or crane his neck to look at the various knick-knacks on the shelves while he talked.
"Or I could give the Hippogriff its own little satchel to wear, and it can go out on paper runs."
"You're ridiculous, Potter."
"I'm practical, Evans. Innovative. Brilliant, even. You see, a Hippogriff goes out and hunts for itself
- you don't need to feed it, and therefore, you don't to spend money on it. Because, as a wise
redheaded Prefect once said 'Five Galleons is a lot to pay for some owl treats'. Isn't that right,
Evans?"
Lily's smile grew wider. "Indeed it is, Potter."
They were quiet for a few moments, and not for the first time Lily was reminded that James Potter
certainly had moments where he pleasantly surprised her. In fact, she found that she quite easily
slipped into a companionable mindset around him - behaviour she was quite set on curbing.
"What are you doing here anyway, Potter? Or did you only come in to annoy me?"
James raised his eyebrows, amused. "I was in this shop before you. How did you not notice me?"
Lily gave him a sardonic smile. "Must be wishful thinking. I've gotten really good at pretending
you're not in the room."
James' eyebrows rose even further, and he grinned. "Very impressive, Evans. Is that also how
you've managed to pretend not to be madly in love with me this whole time?"
She gave an exaggerated nod and smiled far too widely. "Yes Potter, the truth is I find bullying
tendencies and pig-headed behaviour extremely attractive, didn't you know?"
James nodded too. "I should've guessed - there had to be some explanation for your friendship with
Snape."
Lily's smile now, sarcastic or not, vanished.
The other students in the shop had stopped what they were doing to watch. They never wanted to
miss a show between Lily and James, whether in Diagon Alley, the Great Hall, or the Gryffindor
Common Room. The two of them could always draw a crowd.
Anger started bubbling inside Lily, and she narrowed her eyes at the boy. "You have no right to
bring up my friendship with Severus, Potter. Especially considering you're the whole reason that
that… day even happened in the first place."
James, surprisingly, looked offended. "I've told you a million times, Evans. I'm not the one who
made him say that word to you. I levitated him in the air, showed people his mouldy underwear, so
what? It was just harmless fun. He didn't get hurt, which is a privilege he would never grant me if
the roles were reversed. And believe me, the roles are reversed plenty."
"You're trying to justify bullying, and you're doing a terrible job of it," she told him frankly.
James scoffed at that. "He's the enemy, Evans. All of them are. They hurt people, and they spread
hate."
Lily saw Sirius Black enter the shop from the corner of her eye and approach them cautiously, but
she didn't address him.
"So your solution is to do the same to them?"
"Well it certainly isn't to help them, that's for sure!"
She narrowed her eyes at him even more.
Marlene McKinnon put a hand on Lily's shoulder. Lily hadn't even noticed her walk in. Her
attention was fixed entirely on the messy-haired boy in front of her, who currently epitomised
everything she detested in a person.
"Hate isn't what ends wars, Potter. Compassion, love, forgiveness-"
"Evans, if you try fighting a war with love, you'll be fighting it from under a tombstone."
"Excuse me?" she exclaimed.
"Lily, let's go." Marlene was shaking her shoulder now.
"Potter, you are the most arrogant-"
"-bullying toerag, yes Evans you've made that very clear." James rolled his eyes. "If you would just
get off your high horse and listen, you'd understand what I'm saying. War isn't a game, Evans. And
if you treat it like one, people you care about get hurt. Believe me, I would know."
"Okay, time to go Prongs." Sirius Black had his friend by the shoulder, too.
There were twice as many people in the shop now than there had been a few short minutes ago.
Even the shopkeeper had stopped moving, instead watching them from behind the counter. The
owl treats aisle was now filled with Hogwarts students, peering over shoulders to see what was
going on.
"Ladies first," Sirius bowed to Marlene in the cramped aisle, gesturing toward the door with the
hand that wasn't clamped around James' shoulder.
The onlookers in the aisle cleared out, giving room to these four of Hogwarts' most beloved
students.
"Why thank you, Black." Marlene curtseyed. "We'll go left, you go right."
He tipped his head.
"'It's no big deal, Padfoot,'" Sirius mimicked. "'I just want to get some owl treats, Padfoot.'"
James said nothing. The walk through Diagon Alley back to the Leaky Cauldron was long, and he
fully expected his friend to rant the whole way there.
"'Let's be better, Padfoot. Let's be mature, Padfoot. Let's stop bothering Evans, Padfoot.'"
"I never promised that," James mumbled.
Sirius sighed.
The sky had been bright and blue when they'd left that morning, painting the ground with shadeless
glee. At some point before they had entered Eeylops Owl Emporium, however, clouds began to
gather in bulk, and by the time they left, those clouds were dark, and brooding, casting a veil of
gloom over the ground.
It was like the heavens themselves were invested in James Potter's courtship of Lily Evans. Or at
least, James quite liked the way that sounded.
"So you're still not over her, huh?"
Now James sighed. He should have expected the question, should have prepared a convincing
answer. As it was, he had none. "I guess not."
They walked in silence for a few minutes then. James was glad for it.
If he was being honest, he really agreed with Sirius. All his talk from that other night really hadn't
seemed to do much good. The thoughts that had run through his head that night were still prevalent
in his mind. It was that feeling he'd had, that he still hadn't been able to convey properly to Sirius.
And, he guessed, because he hadn't been able to articulate it properly, the matter only continued to
weigh heavily on his mind, plaguing him constantly over the last couple of days. The feeling that
he could do more.
James was annoyed with himself too, disappointed really, that he couldn't even have
a conversation with Lily Evans. He had wanted to be better, much better than this, and he had
thought that he was by now. But it seemed not.
Or perhaps, he supposed, it was just Evans' knack for exposing the worst in him.
"You couldn't even have a conversation with her." If Sirius knew that he was just echoing James'
thoughts, he didn't show it. Although James figured that he probably did. "Have a conversation
with me, Prongs."
"I'd rather not."
"Go on. I'm Lily Evans."
"We're not doing this, Sirius." James picked up the pace, freeing himself of his best friend for a few
moments.
"Of course we are." Sirius caught up to him and matched his speed. "Go on Prongs, do it."
James tried walking a little faster, but once again Sirius caught up. People in the street were
hurrying now too, eager to get out of the open and back home before it started to rain. The clouds
looked like they could burst at any moment.
James looked at Sirius and sighed, slowing back down to their normal pace, kicking a stone on the
cobbled street in annoyance. "Alright, fine." Sirius grinned and clapped his hands as James
continued. "We'll role-play this one time and never again. Got that?"
"Yes, yes, never again."
"Okay… Hi, Lily."
"Don't talk to me," Sirius snapped.
"What?"
"Don't talk to me, Potter."
"Oh, right. Um… How are you?"
"Did you not just hear me? I said don't talk to me, you arrogant toerag!"
"Okay, we're not doing this."
James picked up the pace again, power-walking away from his friend.
"Hey, I'm not done with you, Potter!" Sirius was chasing after him now, yelling at the top of his
voice. "You arrogant prick! You self-centered arse!"
James broke into a run, sprinting down Diagon Alley at full throttle.
"Your glasses look silly! Quidditch is dumb! Snape is a better kisser than you!"
"Who does he think he is?"
Marlene didn't seem to know, so Lily answered for her.
"He thinks he's something like Merlin's nephew and Dumbledore's grandfather rolled into one,
that's who. But do you know who he really is?"
Marlene didn't seem to know, so Lily answered for her.
"A bully. Plain and simple. He's arrogant, selfish, and frankly not even that good looking."
"Well," Marlene piped up, "That's not strictly true though, is it? They don't give fan-clubs to the
ugly ones, Lily. And James Potter is no ugly one."
Lily fixed her best friend with a withering glare. "That's when you choose to voice your opinion on
this? To talk about how good-looking Potter is?"
Marlene raised her hands in defense. "I said nothing about him being good-looking, that was all
you. But hey, now that we're on the subject, he is quite good-looking, isn't he?"
Lily rolled her eyes. Marlene had taken her on the longer way towards the Leaky Cauldron,
presumably to avoid Potter and Black, but then it had started to drizzle, and soon after that it really
started to pour down.
Now they were sat in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. He had offered to let them use his Floo
Network to get home dry, and they'd gladly accepted.
"Don't tell me you're part of his fan-club too, Mar," Lily grumbled with a roll of her eyes.
"Of course not Lily, I still have my pride."
"Good."
"I'm just saying, I wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with him either, you know what I mean?"
Lily stared at her. "No. I do not know what you mean, Marlene."
She was distracted from further dissection of her friend's attitude towards Potter by Florean
Fortescue returning from the back room with a confused look on his face.
"Sorry girls, the Floo network seems to be down. I had a word with the neighbours just now and
they appear to be having the same problem."
Lily looked at Marlene in despair. "So we're going to have to walk to the Leaky in this downpour?"
But Marlene wasn't paying attention. She was looking out the window with an expression
somewhere between confusion and horror.
"Lily… Is that Bellatrix Lestrange?"
Sirius had thankfully tired out quite quickly in the rain, and they walked in silence now. They
weren't worried about getting a bit wet - one can't spend almost every full moon running around the
Forbidden Forest with a werewolf and still be peckish about the rain.
James wondered if he would see Remus before term started in two days.
"Tomorrow is the full moon, right?"
Sirius grimaced. "Yeah. I really hate the nights when we're not there to help him through it all.
Even right now he's probably bedridden already."
James nodded slowly. The brick wall that served as the barrier between the Leaky Cauldron and
Diagon Alley was before them now, and a large crowd had gathered in front of it.
James and Sirius joined the back of the throng, and tried to peer over some heads to see what was
going on. Pushing their way between people, they soon got close enough to get a good view of the
wall.
And all they saw was a brick wall.
James looked at Sirius with furrowed brows. "What's the big deal?"
Sirius shrugged and turned to an excitable man standing near them. "Oy, what's going on?"
The man's eyes were wide and fearful. "The wall's not working. We tapped the right bricks, but it
won't open up to the Leaky Cauldron. We tried all sorts of destructive spells, but nothing can break
it. We're stuck here!"
James and Sirius stared at the man.
"So we're stuck in Diagon Alley," James said, still not getting it. "So what? I'm sure someone will
be along soon to fix the wall."
The man looked at James like he was crazy. "We're all going to die!"
"What?"
"Have you not seen it?" he asked, a tremble in his voice.
James and Sirius shook their heads.
With a shaking finger, the man pointed to something in the air, behind them.
The boys turned around and saw it immediately. It was so big, one had to wonder how they hadn't
noticed it in the first place.
In the sky, hanging among the clouds that James had observed suddenly appearing during the day,
big and green and dark and terrifying, was a great big skull. A snake slithered out its mouth like a
grotesque tongue and coiled around the emerald face poised above them all, staring down at
Diagon Alley like a master would its subjects.
The Dark Mark.

It's a Rat's World, Afterall
Peter Pettigrew was the Head Boy of Hogwarts. He was also the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
These two truths seemed at odds with one another, but Peter didn't question it.
Ah yes, he was also the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
And he could transform into a dog. A black, shaggy dog. Definitely not a rat.
He was walking down the corridor and people would call out his name and wave and say hello.
Then he was in the Great Hall and all his friends sat around him, listening to his crazy stories
which were all true and exciting and very awesome.
Peter Pettigrew was very awesome.
Then he woke up.
Peter didn't open his eyes just yet. Instead, he screwed them shut and tried very hard to go back to
sleep.
"Give me the same dream, give me the same dream…"
He waited. Peter was a very good waiter. He felt like he'd been waiting his whole life.
Through his closed eyelids, he saw a flash of white light. Peter finally opened his eyes and sat up in
bed. His room was dull and void of anything eye-catching. A bed, a desk, a floor, a ceiling, and a
window just for a little bit of flavor.
Or at least, this was normally the case. When Peter opened his eyes that morning, there was
something most definitely eye-catching sitting in his room.
It was a Patronus. A shaggy dog, blindingly white, that was all-too familiar to Peter.
"Pete, we need your help!"
It was Sirius' voice. He was speaking quickly, and Peter noted a tone to his voice that was very
rarely present - that of fear.
"Death Eaters are in Diagon Alley. Prongs and I are trapped here, there's no way out. The brick
wall's locked somehow and the floo-network is down. Someone tried apparating just now and he
left half his body behind. It really smells, Pete."
Peter jumped out of bed and scrambled around on the floor for some pants as Sirius continued
talking.
"The Dark Mark has been cast. We don't know who's dead or how many, but there's every chance
it's not over yet. Prongs reckons this is the big one."
Peter tugged a ripped pair of cargo pants on and pulled a black sweater over his head. Then he
jumped over his bed and reached for his wand.
"I've sent a Patronus to Remus as well, but tomorrow night's the full moon and I doubt we'll get a
whole lot from him right now. You're the only one who can help, Pete. Here's what I need you to
do. I need you to-"
Sirius' voice cut off. There was a noise that sounded worryingly like a body hitting the pavement.
Then, its message sent, the shaggy white dog faded into nothingness, leaving Peter standing in his
room, holding his wand, without the slightest clue what he should do with it.
Peter stared at the spot the dog had been, and frowned.
"I need you to… lie in your bed and go back to sleep."
He paced from one end of his room to the other.
"No," he realized. "I don't think Sirius would say that."
He paced faster. Surely that meant his brain would work faster, too.
"I need you to sit in your room and do nothing. I need you to go to the shops and buy some milk. I
need you to count to one thousand really quickly."
He sighed loudly and flopped down onto his bed.
"Sirius wouldn't say any of those things."
I've sent a Patronus to Remus as well.
"I bet he sent the Patronus to Remus before he sent it to me, too."
Although, Peter had to admit to himself, even if that were true, he couldn't exactly blame Sirius. An
urgent message had come for him to save his friends' lives, and what was he doing? Lounging
about in his bed.
What would Remus do?
Well, that was simple. Remus would analyze every single word of what Sirius had said. And then
he would probably go to the library.
You're the only one who can help, Pete.
How on earth was he the only one who could help? Did Sirius need someone to eat some
Chocolate Frogs? Then sure, Peter's his guy. Did Sirius need someone to laugh loudly at a joke he
told? Then absolutely, Peter could do that. Did the Marauders need someone to press the knot at
the bottom of the Whomping Willow to freeze it?
Well, Peter rationalized, that one doesn't quite count. He could only press the knot on the
Whomping Willow because he could fit into really tight spaces as a rat.
Peter bolted upright. Yes, rats could fit into some very tight spaces, couldn't they?
"I'm the only one who can do this," he intoned.
The traditional means of getting into Diagon Alley were blocked. But how many people could
crawl through the sewer? Enter through the drains? Had anyone ever even tried to enter through
the drains?
There were two things Peter knew for certain.

The first was that he needed to be a little braver. He pulled off his black jumper, opened up his
packed suitcase, and held his Gryffindor sweater in front of him.
Yes, he decided. That would do just fine.
The second thing he knew for certain was that he would need the help of someone much more
talented than himself if he wanted any hope of pulling this off.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Frank Longbottom was a perfect human being. He had the body of a Greek god, a beautifully
chiseled face, more brains than Peter knew how to measure, and was impossible not to get along
with. With Peter's best friends out of action, he was the natural next-in-line.
"Pete?" Surprise lined the flawless features of the soon-to-be-Seventh-Year. "To what do I owe the
pleasure?"
Peter wrung his hands anxiously on Frank's doorstep. "Hey, Frank. You seen the news?"
"About Diagon Alley? Yeah, I have. Scary stuff. Come in, come in." He opened the door wider and
let Peter in. "You want anything? Pumpkin Juice, Chocolate Frog?"
Peter walked through to the lounge and collapsed on an armchair. "Chocolate Frog sounds great,
Frank, thanks."
"You got it, mate. Back in a sec."
Frank left the room. Peter closed his eyes and massaged his temples.
This was it. Something big was going down.
No James, Sirius, or Remus. It was all resting on Peter. Peter didn't often have anything resting on
him. Sometimes Sirius would rest his legs on Peter's shoulder when he sat behind him in
Transfiguration. One time Peter had half an assignment left to him when he was partnered with
Lily Evans for Charms. She had ended up doing all the work, to nobody's surprise.
Now here he was, already hatching an impossibly crazy plan in his head and putting together a
team to fight Lord Voldemort. It was usually 'You-Know-Who', but Peter was so pumped up with
Gryffindor spirit that it seemed ridiculous not to say the name in that moment. Or at least
to think it.
"So what's up, Pete?"
Frank dropped some Chocolate Frogs on Peter's lap, and sat down on the sofa adjacent.
Peter took a deep breath before answering. "Frank, James and Sirius are in Diagon Alley right now.
They need our help."
Frank's jaw dropped. "Merlin, Pete. That's… Merlin, that's terrible." He clapped his hand. "Alright,
I'm in. What do you need me to do?"
Peter looked Frank in the eyes for a long moment, and knew he'd come to the right person.
He reached into his pocket, and put two items on the coffee table in front of them.
"Cigarette lighters?"
"Deluminators," Peter corrected.
Two red Deluminators sat on the coffee table. As lighters, they had been bought at a Muggle
supermarket, and the cheap, plastic bodies had been scratched and chipped from usage.
"An invention of Dumbledore's."
Frank looked impressed. Peter couldn't guess why, he hadn't even told Frank what they did yet.
"Dumbledore gave you these?"
Peter gave a small smile. "Not quite. James and Sirius found Dumbledore's model lying on his desk
one night, last year. They'd been told to wait in his office for him and touch nothing, but you know
James and Sirius. They're not good with instructions. It took a while, but eventually we managed to
more or less replicate Dumbledore's model in these two beauties in front of you."
Frank was staring at the devices. "What do they do?"
Peter hesitated. "It's complicated. Dumbledore's model can remove and restore all light sources
within an area."
Frank looked dubious. "Can you show me?"
Peter wrinkled his nose. "These ones don't actually do that. We didn't manage to crack that part of
the spell."
"Oh."
"Yeah. But Dumbledore's Deluminator has one other trick."
Frank perked up again.
"James and Sirius couldn't figure it all out, but there is some really complex magic around it
regarding apparition. The way it works actually breaks the rules of apparition. You know The
Three D's?"
"Destination, Determination, Deliberation," Frank quoted at once.
"Right. Um, wow, great job. Well, the Deluminator breaks the rule of Destination, in that you don't
need to know your destination."
Frank took a moment to process that, then nodded slowly.
"So," Peter continued, "The question had to be asked: what other rules does it break?"
Frank looked at Peter sharply.
"Are you telling me one of these can get us into Diagon Alley?"
Peter, even though he had been unable to offer any help to James, Sirius, and Remus when they had
cast the spells, nodded smugly. "Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, you name it."
Frank's jaw dropped, and he laughed in amazement.
"There are only two problems: firstly, even though they ignore anti-disapparition jinxes, they still
notify the caster the instant it happens. Secondly, Dumbledore is a far more powerful wizard than
even James and Sirius. He only needs one Deluminator to make it work. These are a set."
"So…"
"So the holder of one of these can only apparate to wherever the holder of the other is. That's all
we've managed to get them to do."
Frank raised his eyebrows. "That's all? Pete, this is amazing! And by fifth years no less!"
Peter scratched his head, feeling awkward. "Yeah, I suppose so."
"Deluminator indeed." Frank sounded delighted. "Alright Pete, we're doing this. I'll go get Alice
from her place, and-"
"What? No."
"No?"
"No."
Frank looked put out about this, and seemed like he was about to argue the point. Then he paused
and turned to Peter, confused.
"James and Sirius don't happen to have another one of these on them, by any chance?"
And here it is, Peter thought to himself. The hard part.
"Nope."
"And you said we can only apparate from one of these to the other?"
"Yep."
A pause.
"I don't get it, Pete."
Peter took a deep breath.
"I can get into Diagon Alley. By myself. And I can't take anyone with me."
"How?"
"Can't say. I'll carry a Deluminator with me, and when I-"
"Peter, how can you get into Diagon Alley by yourself? What's the deal?"
Peter hesitated, and then put a hand on Frank's shoulder.
"Frank, this will only work if you trust me. I can't tell you how I'll get in, so don't ask. Alright?"
Frank surveyed Peter for a few moments, and then nodded slowly. "Alright, Pete. While you're
doing… whatever it is you're doing, I'll get in touch with Dumbledore. Maybe even Moody, if I can
manage it. Then-"
"No."
"No?" Frank asked again, more than a little confused now.
"Frank, I don't know how to put this. The way I intend to get into Diagon Alley is illegal. Very
illegal. The type of illegal that might make our Headmaster and the Head of the Auror Department
a little unhappy with me."
Frank stared for a moment. "Okay, Peter. I didn't want to have to do this, but… I'm going to be
Head Boy this year. I got my letter the other day."
"Oh. Er, congratulations?"
"Thank you. Now, Pete, if you don't tell me what you're hiding-"
"I change my mind. We'll bring Alice, too. Let's go."
"I will- wait, really?"
"Yep, let's go Head Boy."
"Right, yeah. Let's go."
Peter grabbed his Chocolate Frogs, took the elbow his Head Boy offered him, and one excruciating
moment later, they were outside someone's house.
It was evening by this point. The moon was already visible in the sky, a day away from being full.
"Are you sure you even want her to be a part of this, Frank? This is going to be extremely
dangerous."
Frank laughed at this as they walked up the driveway.
"Alice is a better duelist than I am, Pete. I'd be an idiot not to want her help." Then he looked at
Peter with somewhat of a troubled expression. "Not to mention, this is my last year at Hogwarts.
She'll be Sixth Year with you guys, but this is my last year to win her over. I'm not even sure she
knows I exist."
Peter gave Frank an amused look as the Seventh Year stepped up to the door.
"You're literally best friends, Frank."
"But still…"
Frank knocked on the door with an anxious look on his face.
Peter stood to the side and smirked as he watched the anxious expression turn into a gleeful one
when the door opened.
"Hey, Alice! Wanna go bash some Death Eaters?"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Peter, Alice Prewett, and Frank huddled together on the corner of Charing Cross Road. Not far
from them, they could see the Dark Mark in the sky. Below that, who knows what awaited them.
The muggles took no notice of what was in the sky. Peter was no expert, but he supposed that they
probably couldn't see it. If that was the case, it was awfully considerate of You-Know-Who to
make it that way.
In Peter's head, he noted his internal omission of the name - of the 'V' word. He was running out of
steam.
"Okay," he said, looking at Alice and Frank seriously. "Here's the plan."
He pulled out a ball of red yarn.
"I enchanted this. You guys take one end and wait here. In theory, it will stretch out indefinitely, so
you only need to hold it. When I'm ready for you guys to apparate in, I'll enchant it to turn green."
Frank nodded.
"You know Peter, you really are a very talented Wizard," Alice said kindly.
For some reason, this only made Peter feel worse.
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way Alice."
She nodded and smiled.
"Now, an alarm will likely go off the moment you apparate in. You need to be prepared to fight for
your lives from the moment you arrive. Got that?"
"Yarn, apparate, dangerous," Frank ticked off. "Got it."
"Good. Keep the Deluminator on you. Seriously, do not lose it. The boys will kill me."
Frank and Alice nodded again.
"Alright, and…" Peter searched for something else to say, and recognized that he was stalling. "I'll-
I guess I'll be off then."
And with that, he turned on his heel and walked to the corner of the road.
"Pete," Frank yelled before he turned off.
Peter turned back.
Frank grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up.
"Don't die on us!"
Peter saluted, and turned the corner.
The moment he was out of sight, he leaned against the wall and threw up.
"I'm going to die," he realized out loud. "I'm going to die, I'm going to die."
He threw up again, and spat the rest out.
It was raining quite heavily. He only just noticed. He was already soaked.
Peter looked down into a puddle.
In the puddle, he couldn't see any tears in the eyes of his reflection. He couldn't decipher whether
his expression was panicked or not.
All Peter saw was the Gryffindor jersey.
"Where dwell the brave at heart," he muttered to himself. "Brave at heart, brave at heart."
He pushed himself off the wall and power-walked further along Charing Cross Road. The Leaky
Cauldron was up ahead. It looked like it was full - several Witches and Wizards were gathered
outside it, trying to look in, being all too conspicuous in the process.
Peter ignored them and walked further on.
He reached a manhole on the side of the road. There was moss growing on the rim, and around the
finger-holes in the middle. Peter screwed up his nose, got a firm grip on the damp plate, and pulled
it all the way out with one heave.
Before he could overthink it, he dropped his legs into the hole. Then he placed an arm on either
side of the road, and slowly lowered himself down. When he could lower no longer, but still
couldn't touch the bottom, Peter had one last moment of indecision. The rising smell almost
brought more bile up his throat while he hung there. He couldn't do this.
You're the only one who can help, Pete.
He could do this.
He reached with his left hand for the cover of the manhole, and manoeuvred it back into place
without losing his purchase.
Then, with one last deep breath, he let go.

That Battlefield
The day before the Defence Against the Dark Arts Owl, James Potter was sat in detention.
Sunlight filtered in through the gaps between the curtains, lighting up some of the desks, and
keeping the rest shrouded in darkness. James was sat near the back, at one of the shady desks.
He was the only student in detention. His task had been to wipe ink off the tops of the desks without
his wand, but Sirius had lent him his own, so he'd finished the job within thirty seconds.
He could have left, but he knew someone would come to check on him at the end of the hour.
He could have still left anyway, as he really didn't care, but he happened to know who that
someone would be.
Right on cue, the door opened behind him, and in walked Lily Evans.
She strode to the front of the room as though about to teach a class, glancing at the spotless desks
as she swept by them, and then she turned and surveyed James with a hand on her hip.
"We both know you didn't clean these desks by hand, Potter."
James raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. "Ah, Evans. You always assume the worst of
me."
"And you very rarely surprise me."
James grinned.
Peter burst onto the streets of Diagon Alley as a rat, scuttling out from the end of a drainpipe.
With a stretch and a squeeze, the rat transformed back into a fifteen-year-old boy, and he took a
moment to get his bearings, plucking the red thread he'd pulled through the sewer from out of his
mouth.
"Easy," he panted.
Peter stood in the middle of the empty street for a moment, glancing around for any movement.
Then, Peter caught a whiff of himself on the wind and gagged hard, struggling not to throw up for
the third time that day. As a rat, he hadn't cared what he'd been sliding around in down there, but
now that he was a human covered in all sorts of unspeakables, Peter was finding it a lot harder to
cope.
No alarm had gone off, which was a great relief. He was definitely in no state to fight a Death
Eater.
Although, Peter mused, where were the Death Eaters? Where was anyone?
The street was empty, and devoid of any sign of movement whatsoever. He couldn't signal Frank
and Alice to come yet - not until he knew exactly what the situation was. It would have to be at the
perfect moment, as the anti-disapparition jinx would set an alarm off the instant they appeared.
Setting off at a light jog, Peter cut from alleyway to alleyway, looking for something - anything.
The silence was starting to unnerve him.
Then, he heard voices. A lot of voices. They were coming from somewhere close, too.
Peter followed the sound, down a sidestreet, through another alleyway, and his jaw dropped as he
reached it.
"You have got to be joking."
Where once a collection of shops had been, now only rubble stood, as though it were an ancient
ruin of what had once been an entire section of Diagon Alley. So many familiar streets had been
levelled down to the ground and cleared away, creating a huge clearing comparable in size to the
Great Hall.
Gathered in this open space that had been a bustling shopping complex only a few hours prior were
all the residents of Diagon Alley. Peter recognized shopkeepers in this crowd, students, families, all
huddled together and muttering amongst themselves. They were covered in dirt, hugging loved
ones tightly, or standing in groups and talking with panicked expressions.
Peter estimated roughly two hundred of them in all, but he was not a very good counter.
Ahead of the crowd, a podium had been erected atop a house. It wasn't fancy really, just a wooden
platform pitched a few metres above a chimney, but it was high enough to denote power over the
crowd, wordlessly heralding those who were really in charge.
Death Eaters stood on this podium, looking down at the crowd jeeringly. Sort of jeeringly, at least.
It was difficult for Peter to tell behind their masks. Although, the masks themselves were quite
jeering in nature, so there was that.
Peter guessed there were about twenty Death Eaters standing on the podium, and a further thirty
spread out at ground-level around the crowd, caging them all in.
Peter searched the crowd from where he stood, trying to spot James or Sirius, but knew it would be
futile to do it from a distance. He laid the red thread down near a rubbish bin in the alleyway, in
such a way that he could easily find it again later.
Then, with a squeeze and a stretch, he was a rat again.
Peter scurried along the cobbled stone ground, reaching the crowd quickly and having to make
sure not to get stomped on or squashed or killed once he got there. He weaved in and out of the
collection of shoes attached to legs, trying his hardest not to die
Peter stopped when he heard familiar voices.
"-do you mean, Potter?"
He followed the source as best he could.
"I mean exactly that, Evans. Back-up is on its way. I have faith in my friends."
A scoff.
"You realize Black was spotted unconscious, right? There's every chance he didn't get the message
out in time. What makes you so sure?"
Peter found them. James and Lily. Sirius seemed to be missing-in-action for the moment, but Peter
was confident he would find him.
"I have faith in my friends," James repeated stoically.
Though rats could not smile, Peter certainly tried to at that moment.
"The Death Eaters have been smart," James continued. "By gathering everyone like this, they
essentially hold us all hostage. If we try to fight back right now, innocents will be put in danger."
Peter, having been about to transform, paused at this.
There were a few things for him to consider. Firstly, as a human he would reek of sewage waste,
attracting the crowd's attention to himself and causing a scene. He couldn't risk it.
"You know Potter, you're not altogether stupid."
Secondly, what James said was very true. Peter couldn't call Frank and Alice in recklessly.
Not with all these people here.
"Can I get that in writing, Evans? We can shock the Death Eaters to death."
A small laugh.
"Yeah, Potter. Get up on that podium without dying, and let me know how that works for you."
Like a bolt of lightning had hit him, Peter was struck by inspiration at Lily's words.
He scurried back out of the crowd, navigating his way through all the legs, re-entered the
alleyway, and a moment later he was a human again, crouched behind a rubbish bin. He pulled his
wand out and cast another enchantment on the red thread he'd laid there.
"This better work," he muttered to himself.
In ninety seconds, it would turn green by itself now, and Frank and Alice would apparate into
Diagon Alley wherever Peter decided to place the Deluminator. And he now knew just the place.
He pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket, and a second later he was a rat again. He picked the
Deluminator up with his mouth, biting down as hard as his little rat-teeth could. Then, he scuttled
out of the alleyway again, weaved in and out of the crowd's legs once more, and before long he
came to a stop in front of the Death Eaters' podium.
He took a deep breath, bringing in as much air as a rat's lungs could hold.
There would be no going back once he was up there.
With his mind made up, he scampered up the tiling of the house that the podium sat on top of, and
reached the podium itself with twenty seconds to spare by his count.
Death Eaters, dozens of them, stood around Peter on the wooden platform, but none of them
noticed a rat. No one ever really did.
Peter dropped the Deluminator from his mouth by one of the Death Eater's feet and, his work done,
he stayed put and just panted. From his vantage point up there, Peter could make out James and
Lily's faces in the crowd. He also spotted Florean Fortescue, Ollivander, Madam Malkins, and a
bunch of his fellow students. The Death Eaters were still jeering down at them all.
It all fit perfectly, Peter figured.
In fifteen seconds, Frank and Alice would apparate onto this podium.
The alarm would go off, and the Death Eaters would be thrown into disarray. Instead of cursing
into the crowd, they would be cursing at each other, trying to hit the intruders. Frank and Alice
would be prepared for it, too. Peter had told them it would be the fight of their lives from the
moment they appeared in Diagon Alley.
And it was only Death Eaters they had to worry about.
They could do this.
With ten seconds until Frank and Alice would appear, the crowd suddenly grew deathly quiet.
This confused Peter greatly. He whipped his little rat head from side to side, trying to spot the
problem. He could feel something. A presence of some sort, the likes of which he'd never felt
before.
Footsteps. In all of Diagon Alley now, no noise could be heard other than this single pair of
footsteps.
Treading so lightly, so uncaringly, that the sound somehow radiated with effortless power.
In five seconds, Frank and Alice would apparate onto the podium.
Then Peter saw him.
Bone-white skin, robes as black as death, bloodshot eyes filled with hate, he walked like he had all
the time in the world, and looked at each person like he knew their most intimate detail, and their
most intimate detail repulsed him. Red and black and hate and suffering leaked from every pore of
his body, and he basked in it.
Though Peter couldn't see it from the podium, the red thread in the alleyway was now green.
Frank and Alice would appear on the podium at any moment.
And standing atop the very same podium was Lord Voldemort.
"That's not true, Evans."
"What's not true?"
She sat on a now-spotless desk at the front of the room and crossed one leg over the other.
"I surprise you all the time. Remember that time I jinxed your hair blue?"
Lily narrowed her eyes. "Was that before or after I jinxed all your hair off?"
"Just before, I believe."
"Then yes, I do remember it Potter. Congratulations."

She gave him a sarcastic smile. James' grin grew wider.
"What about my birthday present for you? Remember that, Evans?"
Lily's smile faded a little. "You snuck a pair of Severus' underwear onto my pillow."
"Surprising, eh?"
"Surprising, but not funny, Potter."
"Aw, come on, Evans. It was all in good fun."
"No. It was fun for you, though Merlin only knows why you find playing with Severus'
underwear fun."
"Evans-"
"Potter, you could be so much more, don't you see that? You're talented, funny-"
"Merlin Evans, my eyes are up here."
"Oh, shut up. I'm serious, Potter. Don't you ever stop and think that maybe you could be doing…
more?"
James frowned. "No," he lied. "I'm top of the year, and everyone loves me. What more could I
need?"
Lily didn't have an answer for that.
"I mean," James continued hesitantly, "What would you have me do?"
Lily raised an eyebrow at him. "Surprise me."
Peter watched Lord Voldemort stand over the masses, and he knew he would never again witness
such an effortless display of power and menace. He was frozen in fear and shock and terror, and he
couldn't look away.
Voldemort looked down into the crowd, peered into every pair of eyes there, and whatever he saw
pleased him.
"Do not fear," he said slowly, in a high, cold voice that reverberated through Peter's bones. "For all
those with magic in their blood, rejoice. I am not here to kill, or to harm, and if my followers have
done so, it was not by my command. You have magic. You have value."
He waited a moment, as if to let this sink in.
"Today, Diagon Alley will be cleansed. It will be purified. So if you have the truest blood in your
veins, rejoice. But more than this, what has happened here will be a statement to the rest of the
world."
He raised his arms and spoke up, as though celebrating.
"Diagon Alley has been taken, with no resistance. I myself did not lift a finger. You all simply
accepted it. It was you, all of you, who have shown the world today that Lord Voldemort cannot be
resisted. Lord Voldemort cannot be denied. You have shown to all those out there with clean blood
coursing through them that in your hearts, you know your rightful place is at the top of this world.
There is nothing that can oppose our power."
Peter was sure the crowd would clap. Certain of it, in fact. Before this could be tested, however, it
happened.
The Deluminator on the ground started glowing, pulsing with brightness like a little heartbeat.
Then, a blinding flash of light hit the podium, and the crowd, the Death Eaters, and Lord
Voldemort himself had to cover their eyes.
Pop.
"Stupefy!"
A Death Eater went flying off the podium.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Another Death Eater dropped to the ground.
The light cleared, and everybody uncovered their eyes.
Frank Longbottom and Alice Prewett stood atop the podium, back-to-back, eyes narrowed.
"Incarcerous," Alice bellowed.
Ropes flew from Alice's wand and hit a Death Eater, binding around him tightly and bringing him
to the ground.
"Confringo," Frank yelled, pointing his wand at another Death Eater.
Lord Voldemort flicked his wand, and Frank Longbottom's wand-arm twisted at a sickening angle
with a loud crunch. Frank dropped his wand and screamed.
"Frank!"
Alice barely had time to look at Frank before she saw another Death Eater point a wand at her from
the corner of her eye and she was forced to look away again.
Frank watched Lord Voldemort point his wand at him once more.
"Bleeding shit," he cursed.
Frank let his mangled arm hang loose and dived to the side, landing by a Death Eater who had
been advancing on him, and with his good arm he grabbed the Death Eater by the waist and hauled
him down to crash on the ground.
He snatched the Death Eater's own wand and, rising up to full height, pointed the wand at
Voldemort with his left hand.
"Stupefy!"
His aim was off, and the jet of light brushed within an inch of Voldemort's face.
The crowd down below, which had been shouting and screaming since Frank and Alice's
appearance, went silent and still now.
Everyone on the podium, even Voldemort, stopped moving. They all watched that jet of light,
having come so close to hitting The Dark Lord, careen off into the air and fade into nothingness.
Then all eyes turned to Voldemort.
Voldemort's gaze bore into Frank with an unreadable expression.
Frank gave him a cheeky grin.
"You wanna take a step to your left and let me try that again?"
Lord Voldemort slashed his wand through the air, and Frank Longbottom's eyes rolled up into his
head, and he hit the ground face-first.
"Frank," Alice screamed again, running to him now.
Another slash through the air from Voldemort, and Alice swayed in the air for a moment, and then
hit the ground beside the Head Boy.
The Death Eaters still standing lowered their wands, letting out collective breaths.
In all of this, Peter Pettigrew remained completely still, not even daring to breathe. No one had
payed the rat any attention. He was alive. Safe.
But guilt coursed through his mind like a sickness.
He had brought Frank and Alice into Diagon Alley. Gone to their houses and asked for their help.
And when they had needed him, when they had been in the fight of their lives against Lord
Voldemort, he had stayed put, and let them be crushed.
Peter didn't move a muscle, still.
Lord Voldemort turned to face the crowd.
Peter could see James and Lily at the front of the crowd now. He had no doubt that they had been
pushing their way through, trying to make it to the podium in time. They stood with identical
expressions on their face as they looked up at Voldemort. It wasn't hate. It was determination.
"Proof of my appreciation for magical talent," Voldemort pointed to Frank and Alice's bodies,
addressing the crowd loudly, "is that these two children are still breathing."
Relief mixed with Peter's guilt, now. They were alive, at least.
"They will make valuable additions to my followers, I am sure. They only need a little…
convincing."
A few Death Eaters chuckled.
"In fact, you all will demonstrate your willingness to serve, right now."
Voldemort took a moment, seemed to stare into the soul of each member of the crowd individually,
before he spoke again. "Kneel."
The Death Eaters all dropped to their knees. The people in the crowd weren't as readily compliant.
They all looked at one another with hesitation on their faces. The question in their minds was
obvious. Really, what harm could it do to simply kneel?
Do it, Peter pleaded silently of two people in particular. Just kneel. Please.
"It is not a difficult request," Voldemort said quietly, though there was no doubt that everyone
heard him. "And I will not ask twice."
That was enough for the crowd. As one, they slowly knelt to the ground before Lord Voldemort.
Of course, there were two exceptions, and this didn't surprise Peter in the slightest really.
James Potter and Lily Evans stood before the podium, alone but for each other, their figures
seeming to cast light over the crowd behind them, and they gazed up at Lord Voldemort with fierce
determination.
Now Peter was galvanized into action. Voldemort didn't notice the rat scurrying along the
platform. Peter didn't even know where he was scurrying to, or what he intended to do. Only that
he had to do something.
He would not let James and Lily fall victim to Voldemort. Of that one thing, Peter Pettigrew was
certain.
"If you are trying to be another little pair of heroes-" Voldemort started.
James Potter lifted his wand, pointed it at the podium itself, and yelled something.
The wooden platform beneath Peter splintered and exploded, and the rat went flying into the air.
Peter heard shouts and curses and the whistling of flying shrapnel as he soared off the podium
amidst all the falling debris.
Then, he hit a wall, and fell to the ground.
James mulled Lily's words over for a moment.
"Turn around, then," he said eventually.
"What? What for?" Lily raised her eyebrows at James from her perch atop the desk.
James sat forward in his seat and grinned again. "You want me to surprise you, right? Turn
around, Evans."
She frowned at him and considered his request for a few seconds, and then swiveled about on top
of her desk to face the other way.
"Now walk to the blackboard and tap it with your wand."
She looked back at him in confusion.
"Just do it, Evans."
Dubiously, Lily hopped off the desk and walked to the blackboard. She stared at it for a moment,
and then tapped her wand to it sharply.
As if an invisible person was drawing on it, chalk lines suddenly arced across the board with long
flourishes. More and more lines of chalk were added, giving shading, outlines, and incredible
detail to the picture that was slowly taking shape. By the time it was over, Lily had her hand over
her mouth in amazement.
It was a Snitch, drawn in painstaking detail over the length of the blackboard, fluttering its wings
just as rapidly as a real one would and bobbing up and down in front of her.
And in the middle of the drawing, inscribed upon the Snitch itself, were the initials 'L.E'.
She turned back to stare at James with wide eyes, speechless.
"So yeah, I didn't have time to scrub the desks by hand," he said, messing up his hair as he spoke.
"I've been pretty pre-occupied for the last hour."
Lily laughed softly. "James, it's… it's beautiful."
He had to resist the temptation to say "So are you".
"Yeah," he said instead. "Surprise."
Under any other circumstances, if he had woken up to see the green eyes of Lily Evans gazing
down into his own with concern, James would have simply stayed put and accepted that he was in
heaven.
As it was though, he bolted upright in a state of panic.
"Voldemort," he gasped. "Frank, Alice, podium-"
"Potter. Potter," Lily said forcefully, placing a hand on his shoulder and making him look at her.
"Shut up."
James stared at her face for a moment, waiting for his mind to settle. Then, he began to take in his
surroundings and glanced around quickly. They were sitting on cold, stone floor in a dark, damp,
and musty room. He couldn't make much else out in the darkness - at least not until his eyes
adjusted.
He did see two familiar faces a few feet away, though.
"Oh, hey Frank, Alice," he greeted casually now. "Glad you're alive."
Frank grinned at him through the darkness. "Morning, sleepyhead."
James gasped. "Is it really?"
Frank nodded seriously, but Alice sighed and swatted his arm.
"It's still evening, James," she told him. "And thank you. I'm glad we're alive, too."
Lily nudged his arm and James looked at her. "You've been out for a little over an hour. Some
falling debris hit your head pretty hard, I was worried you might have brain damage."
James smirked at her. "And would that have saddened you terribly?"
She deliberated over this for a moment. "Well, I'd feel a right bit worse about putting you in
detention going forward, that's for sure."
James beamed at her. "So even with brain damage, I'd still be breaking the rules?"
"Of course," she nodded with no hesitation. "Some things never change."
James wagged a finger at her. "Ah, but other things do, my dear. After all," he continued a little
quieter, "I have been known to surprise you."
Lily looked at him quickly, and a small smile crept onto her lips.
Frank cleared his throat awkwardly.
"So… aren't you going to ask what happened while you were out cold?"
James looked at the Head Boy sharply.
"Right. Well, what happened?"
The Head Boy nodded towards Lily, leaning back and resting his palms on the ground behind him.
"Lily was the only one of us conscious. She explained it to Alice and I already, but I have to say,
I'm little confused. I want to hear what you have to make of it."
James nodded and looked at Lily expectantly. She was still staring at him oddly, and shook her
head before she began to speak.
"Well," she started, "After you blew up the podium, you got a few good hexes out too before you
were knocked out. I managed to drag you to where Frank and Alice had fallen among the debris,
but from there we were stuck - I couldn't drag all three of you."
"You should play Quidditch, it helps tone the arms," James suggested. "We have a couple spots
open."
"Shut up, Potter. Anyway, once the remaining Death Eaters got up from the rubble, they
surrounded me pretty quickly. Between the lot of them and You-Know-Who, there wasn't a whole
lot I could do. I was sure he'd kill all of us, but… he didn't. He got someone to restrain us, and said
he'd deal with us later. He said he was impressed. Impressed that we defied him or some obnoxious
rubbish like that."
James frowned a little and nodded.
"Then they took our wands and we were brought here. This is the cellar of one of his followers, I
think. Middle of Diagon Alley. They dropped us through a trapdoor in the ceiling somewhere.
Frank and Alice woke up an hour or so later, and you were not too long after that. I just don't get
why we're still alive - because we impressed him? Pretty dumb reason, to be honest. Does he spare
everyone who impresses him? Because that just sounds like a bad business model for a Dark
Lord."
When she was done talking, she, Frank and Alice looked at James quizzically.
James didn't say anything immediately, looking deep in thought.
"When was the last time you were in touch with Moody?" he asked Frank eventually.
Frank looked surprised at the question. "Few months ago, I guess. Why's that?"
James hesitated before answering. "This is strictly confidential," he said, looking each of them in
the eyes. Once he got three nods, he continued. "Moody believes Voldemort is recruiting Hogwarts
students to be Death Eaters."
The three of them frowned at James following this.
"I'd hardly call that confidential, James," Frank said after a moment. "Everyone knows there's a
bunch of wanna-be Death Eaters at Hogwarts. So you're saying Voldemort thinks he can recruit
us?"
James nodded. "Imperius, blackmail, whatever. The thing is, those 'wanna-be' Death Eaters -
they're no longer just 'wanna-be's'. If you believe the intel, they already are Death Eaters. In fact,
they were probably among those standing on that podium just before. And Moody… Well, he
reckons he has a confirmed list of them."
Now the three stared at him with wide eyes, shell shocked.
James proceeded to answer the unasked question.
"Mulciber. Avery. Dolohov. Rosier. Travers. And..." James hesitated, and refused to look at Lily
when he said the last name, "And Snape."
The day after the Defense Against the Dark Arts Owl found James in the library, begging Lily
Evans to hear him out.
"Evans, it was a joke. Everyone else found it funny."
She whirled around, her bag hitting a book off its shelf.
"In what way is levitating a person in the air and showing everyone his underwear a joke, Potter?
And what is your obsession with Snape's underwear, anyway? Everyone else found it funny
because you found it funny. They all mindlessly follow you and look up to you, Merlin only knows
why, and you just use your influence to be a bully! A worthless, cowardly bully."
James blanched. "Evans, we were getting on so well the other day-"
"Potter, that was me giving you a chance. Loathe as I am to admit it, you're fun to be around. Even
though you always pick on my best fr- pick on Sev- pick on Snape," she colored a little bit, "I could
have moved past it if you had just stopped doing it, like I'd asked you to. But your arrogance…
your ego! You are the most self-satisfied arse I've met in my life, Potter!"
"Evans, I wasn't the one who called you that - that word. The M-word. And for your information,
he starts fights with me just as often if not more than-"
"So what if he hexes you first? So what if he insults you, Potter? Is your famous pride so fragile
that it can't bear being the bigger person, for just once in your life?"
That was too much for James. "You don't know anything, Evans. There are things I've heard about
Snape that would make you want to curl up into a ball. Things he's done-"
"Potter, do you think I haven't addressed that with him myself? If you haven't noticed, if the King
of Hogwarts is somehow out of the loop, I'm not friends with him anymore. Got that? So you can
just stop with your pathetic mission to discredit him, or whatever it is the two of you are into these
days. Merlin."
James took a moment to compose himself. He was here to make amends. Make her see his side.
Then she'd realize he was speaking the truth. "There is a war going on, Evans."
"Oh, here we go."
"And people are taking sides."
"People are taking sides? In a war? No way."
"And it's happening in this very castle, Evans. The war has already started for us."
Lily surveyed him for a few seconds, and then sighed. "And why would you say you're on the right
side of this war, Potter?"
"Because," he started, not sensing the trap immediately, "I don't hurt, or attack, or target any…
one… Oh."
"Oh," Lily agreed.
"Very clever Evans, but that's not the point. If we fight fire with fire-"
"Then there will just be a bigger fire. And then everything burns."
"No, everything on one side burns. Their side."
"And you would just stand there and watch them burn, Potter? You need to fight their fire with
water. Fight their hate with love, Potter."
"If you're asking me to love Severus Snape, Evans…"
"Oh Potter, will you just shut up? Just shut up!"
That had been louder than she'd intended.
Everyone in the library was now looking at them. Madam Pince was stalking over to them at that
very moment, glaring so hard it was a wonder they were still breathing.
"I'm leaving," Lily announced to James, before Madam Pince got too close. "Don't follow me."
She began to walk away.
"Evans. Evans, wait!"
She stopped, turned, and gave him a look that clearly said 'This better be good'.
James pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. "Here. This is for you."
She narrowed her eyes and snatched the parchment impatiently, unfolding it in front of him.
Inside was a drawing of a Snitch, smaller this time, but with the same 'L.E' inscribed on it.
"I drew it during the Defence Owl yesterday. Before the… you know. I was going to give it to you
while you and the girls were by the lake."
"In such a way that all of them would notice, I'd imagine," she commented dryly, without looking
up from the picture.
But something in her expression had changed.
"Of course," he grinned, feeling relieved.
When she looked back up at him though, she quickly changed her expression back to being annoyed
and impatient.
"If you think I'll forgive you just because you drew me a picture, you're sorely mistaken."
"No, Evans I-"
"I'll see you in class, Potter. And I've informed McGonagall that you didn't serve your detention
properly. She's advised me that you'll re-serve it tonight, and that she'll personally monitor you
this time. I hope that teaches you something about doing things the right way."
And with that, she stalked off.
Before she was out of his sight though, James saw her slip the parchment into her pocket.
Frank and Alice were talking quietly on the other side of the dark room.
Lily had been silent since James' revelation. The conversation had sort-of just ended there. What
else could be said?
"I suppose you must be quite smug about all this," Lily said to him quietly after around ten minutes
had passed.
James considered this. "No," he said honestly. "I want to be. But I think I just find it sad."
Lily looked at him but said nothing.
"He's our age. And we're just kids, Evans. We shouldn't be fighting a war. We should be back in
Eeylops or something, arguing about the price of owl treats."
She laughed softly. James took no notice, though. He needed to bounce off someone all the things
that had been on his mind, and for some reason it was coming out better with Lily than it did with
Sirius.
"Not to mention, at the end of the day, whatever dark hole Snape ends up in, he'll be there because
I pushed him into it. Not Avery, not Yaxley. Not even Voldemort. Me. How could I be smug about
that?"
Lily opened her mouth to answer, but James wasn't done.
"I owe you an apology," he realized. "For this morning. And I suppose for every day before that."
"Not every day," Lily whispered, nudging him in the side.
He smiled. "No, I suppose not. But for all the rest of them, I'm sorry. I mean it, Evans."
Again, she opened her mouth to say something, but he still wasn't done.
"My dad's dying," he said bluntly.
"Potter…"
"During the raid on the Goyle family's estate, he was exposed to something. It's unclear what it
was, but it's untreatable, and it's killing him. It's helped me understand what you mean. Responding
to the Death Eaters by trying to beat them at their own game only results in more cases like my
dad's. And starting this kind of cycle of hatred as early as Hogwarts… it's just tragic."
Lily nodded approvingly. "Well I'm glad you've come around to my way of thinking, Pott-"
"That's just the thing though," he interrupted. "I haven't. I still disagree with you. I still stand by
what I said about it, Evans."
Lily frowned at him. "Potter, how could you still justify-"
"The Goyle family is suspected of funding Voldemort's whole agenda. Ministry support, bribes,
campaigns - they're a huge asset to him. Taking the initiative with a pre-emptive strike on them
was, in theory, the best option."
"But your dad-"
"My dad did what he did to try and stop this war from happening. And I'm sure that if he could go
back and either stop himself from leading the raid, or take another crack at it, he wouldn't hesitate.
He'd do it again in a heartbeat."
Lily gazed at James with an unreadable expression on her face. He pushed on, hoping she could
understand.
"In that regard, I am my father's son. I will do anything to protect the people I care about, Evans. If
that involves getting my hands dirty, then I'll do it. Whatever it takes. Pride, honor, even my life,
they would be meaningless without those important to me. It was wrong of me to treat a lot of
people the way I treated them. I agree with you on that. But if Sirius is in a fight, someone's getting
hexed. If Peter gets made fun of, someone's getting hexed. And if Snape so much as looks at
Remus the wrong way, the next thing he'll be looking at is the ceiling of the Hospital Wing."
"Potter, really now-"
"And if you can't accept all of that, Evans, then tough shit. Because that's just the way it is. Okay?"
Lily swallowed the words in her mouth, taking a long time to process them first. James watched her
mull it over, sorting everything out in her head. When she finally spoke, it was exactly what James
wanted to hear.
"Okay."
And for both of them, that was enough.
Waking up shirtless did not perturb Sirius Black. It happened often.
Waking up with a wide gash spreading from his lower abdomen to his collarbone, however, was
quite the novelty.
"Merlin, fuck."
"Yes, that about sums it up," Marlene McKinnon nodded, her wand tracing over the opening in his
skin with slow precision. "You've always had a way with words, Black."
Sirius groaned, being careful not to move too much as Marlene worked on the wound.
He craned his neck as much as he could without moving the rest of his body, and scanned the
room. It was modest, with nothing really to look at. The paint on the walls was faded, the carpet
peeling, the furniture dusty and cobwebbed, and the dining table he was draped across was
chipped, and it wobbled each time Marlene nudged it.
Two windows on either side of a wooden door afforded Sirius a view of an empty Diagon Alley
street.
Diagon Alley streets were never empty.
"Where are we?" Sirius turned back to peer at Marlene. "What happened?"
She bit her cheek and frowned in concentration as she answered, not looking away from her wand-
work.
"Well, I don't know what the last thing you remember is, but as for myself, I got separated from
Lily shortly after we spotted the Dark Mark. The street was packed with everyone trying to escape,
and it was impossible for me to keep track of her. Death Eaters started showing up in the streets,
and they were herding everyone towards the centre of Diagon Alley."
"What for?" Sirius asked through gritted teeth, trying to distract himself from the pain of having his
skin magically sewn together.
"I didn't stick around to find out. It took me a while to find an opportunity to slip away. There were
so many Death Eaters, enough to be a small army. I didn't know You-Know-Who has so many
sympathisers."
Sirius, knowing all too well just how many sympathisers Voldemort had, didn't say anything to
that.
"Eventually I found you lying on the ground in the street. It's a miracle you weren't trampled on,
there was barely any room to walk anywhere - the Death Eaters were herding literally everyone in
Diagon Alley. You're lucky the good people were kind enough to walk around your body."
"I do have quite a marvelous body," Sirius grinned, although it quickly changed to a grimace as
another particularly painful tremor wracked his torso.
"It's not bad, I'll grant you that, Black. Quidditch works wonders for the core."
"Ah, McKinnon, you're making me blush."
Marlene shook her head. "Anyway, when I found you I thought you were dead. If you think this
wound is bad now, you should have seen it then. You really looked like a corpse."
Sirius nodded and frowned. "That's my cousin's doing - Bellatrix. You'd know of her, she finished
at Hogwarts in our Third Year."
"Of course I know of her. She's in the paper every other week, the Ministry's looking for her. I saw
her in the street just before all this started. She married Rodolphous Lestrange last year, right?"
Sirius nodded again. "Lunatics, the both of them. This," he gestured to his torn torso, where
Marlene's attention and wand-work were currently directed, "is her idea of a practical joke, I think.
She caught me while I was trying to get a message out. So what happened after you found me?"
Marlene bit her lip now, her wand-work becoming more complex.
"Well, I overheard one of the Death Eaters telling another that they have explicit orders from You-
Know-Who not to harm anyone, just to gather us all. So I picked you up, you're surprisingly light
by the way, and brought you over to them-"
Sirius interrupted with a sharp gasp of pain.
"It's almost over, you little baby. Just hold on," Marlene smirked. "So I brought you to them and
told them I'm your girlfriend, and that I just want to get you inside and patch you up. They were
very keen to get you out of sight, so we slipped away quite easily."
"Death Eaters aren't that bright," Sirius observed.
Marlene's wand was slowing, with most of the job done, and Sirius could barely feel the finishing
touches she was putting on.
"No, they're not," she agreed. "So I carried you through an alleyway, tried doors until I found an
unlocked one, and here we are. I've been working on you for about two hours, actually."
Sirius looked at her in surprise, and felt a surge of gratitude towards Marlene Mckinnon. "Thanks,"
he said simply, looking at her with interest.
She took no notice, nodding away his thanks quickly. "And…" she said with a final wand flourish,
"Done! Consider yourself healed, and your life owed to me, Black."
Sirius sat up slowly and hopped off the table.
"Just make sure you don't move too much and you'll be fine," she said, sounding tired now as she
walked over to a wooden chair and flopped down onto it.
Sirius shook his head, picking his discarded shirt off the ground and slipping it on. "No can do,
McKinnon. I have no clue where James is, but I'm going to go find out, and then we're all getting
the hell out of here."
Marlene straightened up in her chair like she'd been electrocuted, and stared at him. "Black, that's
suicide. You don't know what's out there, and you're barely in a state to walk. Believe me, I get it.
Lily's out there too, how do you think I feel? But the only thing we can do right now…"
Sirius had buttoned his shirt up, picked his wand off a chair, and was already opening the front
door to the streets of Diagon Alley.
"You're not listening to me, are you?"
"Nope."
He stepped outside, ignoring the shooting pain running through his chest.
The street was still empty. It unnerved Sirius to no end, seeing the always bustling street barren.
"Black! You literally owe me your life, can you at least wait up?"
Marlene had run out of the house after him, hurrying along behind him as he strode quickly
through the street.
"This is me waiting. I'm not running, because you told me not to."
"I told you not to walk, Black," Marlene sighed resignedly, finally matching his stride. "Do you
even know where to look for them?"
They cut through an alleyway and emerged into yet another empty street.
"Nope," he admitted. "But you said everyone was being gathered towards the centre of Diagon
Alley, right? Sounds like as good a place to start-"
"Padfoot!"
Sirius stopped in his tracks. Marlene stopped a few feet in front of him and looking back in
confusion.
Sirius scanned the street, looking for movement, and found it soon enough.
Running towards him at full pelt and skidding to a halt was a grubby, out-of-breath, funny-looking
boy with grime-covered cheeks and watery eyes.
"Wormtail," Sirius exclaimed happily. "You did make it!"
Peter bent a little and wheezed, blinking at the ground, before standing up straight.
"I know," he puffed, "how to get… James, Lily, Frank, Alice… I-"
"Frank and Alice are here?" Sirius asked in surprise.
"I brought them… they have our Deluminator… and… I know how to turn off… the anti-
disapparition jinx-"
"You know how to turn it off?" Sirius stared at his friend in amazement.
"Let me finish," Peter panted pleadingly. "Explosion… podium… You-Know-Who…"
Sirius' eyes widened at the name.
"He's here," he muttered disbelievingly.
He looked at the ground for a few moments, thinking hard.
Then he looked at Peter, who was leaning against a wall and breathing heavily. He was pleasantly
surprised with everything Peter had managed to achieve in all this without another Marauder with
him.
He was just opening his mouth to comment on that and congratulate his friend, but Marlene beat
him to it.
"Pete, why do you smell like shit?"
Frank was flopping his mangled arm around in front of him, and Alice was staring at it with an
expression somewhere between horror and morbid fascination as she slowly shuffled away from
him.
"You can see bone shards sticking out of the skin in places," Frank announced to the three
disgusted teenagers watching him.
James was grateful the room was so dark. He was quite sure he didn't want to see 'bone shards
sticking out of the skin in places'.
"Doesn't it hurt?" Lily asked with a wrinkled nose.
"Nope," Frank grinned. "I lost all feeling in the arm about an hour ago. I have to tell you, I really
wasn't expecting to fight Lord Voldemort today."
The other three nodded in agreement - none of them had.
"That reminds me," Lily said with a slight frown. "How did you guys suddenly appear on the
podium? There should have been no way in or out of Diagon Alley."
Frank opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped himself, seeming to realize that he didn't
really know how to explain it. He looked at James helplessly.
James sighed and looked between Lily and Frank with a resigned expression. "I'm assuming Pete
brought you guys in?" he asked Frank and Alice.
They nodded.
"Wait, Peter's here? And he got Frank and Alice in? How? Where is he now?"
James wasn't entirely sure which question to answer first. Luckily for him, he didn't have to try.
Just as he opened his mouth, Frank's pocket emitted a bright light, blinding the four teens whose
eyes had adjusted to the darkness.
Pop.
"Lumos."
As the flash of the deluminators faded, the grinning faces of Sirius and Marlene were illuminated
by wandlight, standing in the center of the now well-lit room. Peter stood by them, bent over and
panting hard.
A moment passed in which the three newcomers beamed at the four teens slumped on the floor.
"Merlin, what's that smell?" Lily complained, breaking the silence.
The next five minutes were spent catching all parties up on each one's missed business. James in
particular found it quite interesting - he was very impressed with what Peter had accomplished over
the course of the day, especially given that it had largely been by himself.
"And that's not all," Peter was saying, his face still a little pink but his breathing back to normal. "I
know how to turn off the anti-disapparition jinx."
The eyes of Frank, Alice, Lily and James snapped to Peter and stared disbelievingly.
"Frank," Peter said, looking at the Head Boy, "do you remember what I told you would happen the
moment you apparated in? One of the Deluminator's side effects?"
Frank looked at Peter and frowned for a few moments, before understanding dawned on his face.
"An alarm was supposed to go off. The moment we apparated in," he said slowly.
Peter nodded excitedly, almost jumping in glee. "But it didn't! The alarm didn't go off."
Most of them continued frowning, but James, realization hitting him, starting laughing. "Pete,
you're a genius mate."
Peter's grin grew wider. "What was the first thing you did when you apparated in?" he asked Alice,
haste in his voice now.
"I…" Alice trailed off, pursing her lower lip. "I think I stunned someone. Right?"
She didn't seem sure, but Peter seemed certain.
"Well, what if," Peter licked his lips, "what if the Death Eater you stunned was the one who cast
the anti-disapparition jinx? And maybe the alarm didn't go off properly because the Death Eater
who cast the jinx was unconscious. What if you took the exact right one out at the very start?"
They all stewed in silence at that, before Frank spoke. "The odds of that happening are…"
"Slim to none," Peter finished for him. "But it happened."
"Brilliant, right?" Sirius grinned.
A moment passed, before the four teens sitting on the ground jumped to their feet to join Peter,
Sirius and Marlene in the centre of the room. A sense of urgency filled the air, and they talked
more quickly now.
"So is the jinx off?" Lily asked. "Can we disapparate?"
Marlene shook her head. "I tried it when Peter explained all this to us earlier. Almost splinched
myself, but nothing happened."
"It's a jinx," James affirmed. "The way to turn it off is with the counter-jinx."
"But to know the counter-jinx, we'd have to know the jinx in the first place," Alice reasoned.
Peter nodded again. "So we go back to the platform. The crowd is still all gathered there, but I'm
able to... pass through crowds unnoticed, shall I say. I'll find the wand, and we can use a reverse
spell on it, see what its last spells were."
"Wait, what do you mean you're 'able to to pass through-'" Lily started.
"Doesn't matter," James, Sirius, and Peter said at the same time.
"Okay," said Frank with a tone of finality. They all looked at him. "So here's what we do. Sirius,
Marlene and Peter, you'll go back up. You three still have wands. We'll stay here in case anyone
comes back to check on us. Pete, do what you have to do, get that wand. Sirius, Marlene, you two
focus on getting our wands back. I don't think Voldemort will be holding on to them personally. I
honestly wouldn't be surprised if our wands are just sitting in this house somewhere. Be quick, but
discreet. Do not engage any Death Eaters."
Sirius looked like he wanted to argue this last order from the Head Boy, but Marlene elbowed him
hard and he closed his mouth.
"Meet back here in thirty minutes," Frank finished. "Got it?"
The three of them nodded.
Sirius waved his wand in the general area of the ceiling, and a trapdoor sprung open from above
them. He looked at Marlene and Peter, and they nodded again. They positioned themselves under
the open trapdoor, and Sirius turned to glance at the four staying behind.
"If you guys aren't still here when we get back," he began.
"Then I'm sure you'll come find us, wherever we are," Frank finished for him. "Now go."
Sirius gave another nod.
Then, with a brief wand flourish, the three of them were propelled upwards to the floor above, the
trapdoor closing behind them, leaving the room shrouded in pitch-black darkness once more.
"Seriously, though," Lily said after a moment of the four of them standing idly in the dark. "Why
does Peter smell so bad?"
"I know you're a Death Eater."
Snape stopped walking abruptly, and turned around to face James.
The corridor was empty but for them, and Snape had clearly thought he was alone if the rare look
of surprise on his face was anything to go by. His expression quickly melted back into his usual
dispassionate disposition.
"Assuming you are correct rather than deluded," Snape spoke slowly, carefully, "it is awfully
foolish of you to tell me so. If you believe I am a Death Eater, you must also be aware that I could
kill you without a moment's hesitation."
James smiled without humor. "If that were true, I would already be dead. I'd imagine I've given
you enough reason."
"Give me another then, Potter. Right now. Give me one more reason and we can test your little
theory of whether or not I'm a Death Eater without wasting any more words."
Snape's proposition hung in the air between them, he at one end of the corridor, James at the
other. It was enough distance for neither boy to really feel the nuisance of the other's company, but
small enough to cover with a few long strides - small enough that they would be truly hard-pressed
to miss with their spells, if they were so inclined.
James shook his head. "I didn't come here to fight, Snape."
"No, I suppose not. After all, you don't have your entourage with you."
"I came here to make one thing clear. I know Voldemort's recruiting students. I know there is
already a group of Death Eaters within these walls. And I am telling you to
leave anyone associated with me out of it. From Sirius to Frank, hell, everyone in Gryffindor,
really."
Snape raised a brow.
"Why would the Dark Lord waste his time with any of your filthy lot? Unless someone has
something to offer? Perhaps Lupin? Tell me Potter, what are the chances that I have already
relayed to the Dark Lord the events that I witnessed that night in the Shrieking Shack-?"
"You will leave him out of it," James cut in clearly. He stood casually, kept his face uncaring, but
in his pockets his balled up fists were shaking. "Him, Pete, Sirius... everyone."
Snape looked at James for a long moment.
There was a name he hadn't mentioned. But, when it came to the two of them, it never needed
mentioning.
James took a deep breath, unclenched his fists, and gave a small sigh.
"That was some show we put on after the Defence Against the Dark Arts Owl the other day, huh?"
James asked quietly, gauging the other boy's reaction.
Snape's lips thinned. "You took from me the one person in this castle whom I actually cared for,
Potter. You don't sound as scared as you should be."
"You did it to yourself."
They looked at each other across the corridor in silence, as though sizing one another up.
"I will kill you," Snape said softly after a while.
"You'll certainly try," James agreed.
Another long moment passed, filled only with contemplative silence.
"And on that day," James added eventually, "On that battlefield, we'll end this. Until then, you will
keep everyone else out of it if you know what's good for you."
Snape smiled coldly. "Is that a threat, Potter?"
"It's a promise, Snape."
Snape snorted and turned away, showing his back to James as he started walking.
James took his cue and turned too, walking the other way. Before he was out of earshot though, he
heard Snape speak again.
"Until that battlefield, Potter."
Frank had gone back to showing Alice his arm. She didn't look too pleased about it.
Lily was staring off into space, seemingly deep in thought, so James prodded her shoulder with his
finger.
"Evans."
"What?" she asked, turning her gaze on him.

"We have a truce, right?"
She wrinkled her nose. "No. I just tolerate you a little more."
"Tolerance is the foundation of any good truce, Evans."
"No Potter, the foundation of a good truce is a truce, which we don't have."
James fake pouted. "So if I brought firewhisky into the Common Room for the first night back,
you wouldn't turn a blind eye?"
She gave him a suspicious frown. "Were you being nicer to me before just to butter me up for
this?"
James pretended to consider this. "If I say no, will you turn a blind eye?"
"No."
"Then no, anyway."
"Good."
James hesitated. "Was that a test?"
"No."
"Worth a shot."
She laughed.
Then quite suddenly, the trapdoor above them burst open, and Sirius, Marlene, and Peter dropped
down in front of them.
"Quick, get up, there's no time," Sirius said sharply.
Marlene handed the four teens who had quickly jumped to their feet their wands.
"Here," Peter said, handing another wand to Frank. "It took me some time to find where you
blasted the poor bastard off to - nice work on that though - but this is his wand."
Frank held the wand out to Alice with his good arm, and she tapped it with her own wand,
muttering an enchantment. Neither wasted any time now.
"It'll take us a while to pinpoint the jinx and then figure the counter-jinx out," Frank advised, as
ghostly images of the previous spells cast by the wand appeared in the air in front of them.
"Unfortunately, we don't have a while," Sirius said grimly. "We were seen coming back here.
Death Eaters will swarm in soon, we have to get out now."
James nodded and spoke up. "Frank, Alice, get to work on that counter-jinx."
The two didn't seem to notice, already hard at work.
"We've all got wands now," James continued, looking at each of the rest in turn. "Once we're up
there, we'll be outgunned and penned in. It'll be dangerous from the get-go. So we move straight
for the exit, get to open air. Be careful, and watch each others' backs. This won't be easy."
They all looked at one another briefly, in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable and buy
themselves some precious few seconds more, before they would have to go up.
"Marlene and I will lead," Sirius said quietly after a few moments. "We know the way."
James nodded his agreement. "Pete, you know the way too, right? You'll flank them. Lily and I
will cover the rear. Frank and Alice in the middle."
More nods from the lot of them.
James clapped his hands together. "Showtime, then. Let's go."
They gathered under the opening in the ceiling, and all took a collective breath, steeling
themselves. Then Sirius waved his wand and, as though a gust of wind had burst through the stone
floor below them, they were propelled upwards, above the trapdoor, and landing gently on a tiled
wooden floor.
James kicked the trapdoor closed and looked around. They were in a narrow corridor, wide enough
for only two people to stand comfortably abreast.
Sirius and Marlene took the lead immediately, heading off down the corridor with Peter a step
behind. Frank and Alice followed. It looked like they had cracked the exact jinx already, and they
now seemed to be trying to develop some sort of counter-jinx, muttering and waving their wands in
erratic arcs.
James and Lily followed close behind them. The two would glance back every few seconds, down
the other end of the long corridor, taking turns by unspoken agreement.
At the end of the corridor, the path split in two directions, hard left and hard right.
Sirius stopped near the end, Marlene close behind him, and he gestured to all of them with a wave
of his hand to get back against the wall to their right . Once they did so, he slowly edged forwards
and peered left and right.
He quickly pulled back and turned to look at the rest of them.
"Death Eaters," he mouthed.
After a few moments, James heard the footsteps of the Death Eaters. They were hurrying, and were
only a few seconds away from the sounds of it. When their shadows loomed past the corner, the
teens sprung into action.
Two Death Eaters turned the corner and Marlene cast a Silencing Charm on them both before they
even seemed to register what they were seeing.
James couldn't see their eyes properly through the slits in their masks, but he imagined them being
wide open in surprise.
Lily stunned the first one before either Death Eater could recover from shock, and Sirius gut-
punched the second before pulling its masked head down to meet his knee with a loud crunch. The
first Death Eater hit the far wall and slumped on the ground just as his friend collapsed against the
wall adjacent, clutching at his masked face.
"Petrificus Totalus," James said calmly, binding the first Death Eater and the second soon after.
"Great work, Potter," Lily deadpanned. "Couldn't have done it without you."
"Yes, I do try my best Evans," he winked.
The group continued on, taking the right corridor, and then a left, following Sirius, Marlene, and
Peter's directions. Corridors blended into more corridors, some identical, others decorated with
framed pictures or fancy rugs.
Some of the corridors had closed doors lining their walls, leading to any number of unknown
rooms or, James figured amusedly, perhaps more corridors. He figured the house must be
impossibly large to fit all this, especially within Diagon Alley - this would mean it was enchanted,
which would also mean that they probably couldn't just blast their way through the walls to get
outside. He didn't have time to test this theory, though.
Four Death Eaters turned the corner at the far end of yet another corridor that the group was now
hurrying along, with more joining soon after. Five, six, soon ten Death Eaters were hurtling
towards the teens.
"We'll charge right through them," James yelled to his friends, running forward to join Sirius and
Marlene at the front of the group. It didn't surprise him to find Lily right there next to him.
Jets of light shot towards them, and after a quick glance and nod at Sirius, both boys pointed their
wands at the ground and waved them in the same motion.
The tiled floorboards ahead of the group peeled off the ground and stacked vertically, creating a
thin wooden wall just in front of James and Sirius, looming just a few inches over their heads.
James peeked past the side of the wall and pointed his wand at the now tile-less ground just ahead
of the Death Eaters
"Incendio," he roared.
Fire burst from his wand as though from a hose, covering the tile-less area with raging flames that
roared and tumbled on the ground like a tide, radiating heat to fill the whole corridor.
Sirius cast a Shield Charm on their flimsy wooden wall at the same time.
"You two are insane," Marlene breathed.
"You two get back," James told Marlene and Lily, not looking away from what was now a no-
man's-land between them and the Death Eaters.
"Like hell we will," Lily snapped, elbowing past James and taking his spot at the edge of the wall.
"Reducto!"
The roof above the Death Eaters blew apart to smithereens, dropping wooden debris on the Death
Eaters and opening up the corridor to the blue sky of the outside world.
Smoke and heat rose through the opening, and the teens gazed in wonder at their way out into
Diagon Alley.
"Nice work, Evans," Sirius said approvingly.
"We can make it out now," Marlene yelled over the raging fire and shouts from Death Eaters. "We
just have to get to that opening!"
James nodded, and made to extinguish the bonfire he'd conjured in the no-man's-land, but stopped
when he heard a voice and a spell that he would recognize anywhere.
"Sectumsempra!"
A portion of their wall blew apart, creating a gaping hole in their only defense.
A single Death Eater ran ahead of the rest, and with a flick of his wand the fire parted ways for
him, splitting into two and creating a thin opening in the no-man's-land, wide enough for a person
to move through without touching the flames. He started shuffling through this small space,
making steady progress towards the wall.
"Stay here," James growled. "Get that wall back up."
He skirted past Lily and what was left of the wall, and joined the Death Eater in the thin space
between the two infernos.
When it was just the two of them, standing on either end of this small pathway between walls of
fire, they both stopped and looked at one another. Heat blasted onto James face and skin, smoke
through his nose, his eyes watered, and he was sure his skin would blister.
But still he felt the sheer coldness of the eyes behind the slits of that Death Eater's mask, chilling
him to the bone.
No words were wasted. They had done more than enough of that in the past.
James pointed his wand at the masked face of Severus Snape, just as his enemy raised his own
wand back.
"Avada K-"
"Stupefy," James yelled.
Snape had to stop mid-spell and weave to the side. James' spell shot off behind its target and hit
one of the Death Eaters who had gotten up from the rubble of the collapsed roof, knocking him to
the ground again.
"Crucio!"
James ducked, and hoped to Merlin his friends had gotten the wall back up and he hadn't just
inadvertently subjected them to torture.
Snape didn't let James have a break while he ducked under the Cruciatus Curse.
"Reducto! Confringo! Incarcerous!"
James leaned this way and that, dodging the onslaught of spells through reflexes honed in over
countless hours of time on the Quidditch Pitch. Although, he knew that luck was also a factor, and
he could not keep it up for long.
"Sectum-"
"Protego!"
Snape stopped himself from finishing the spell, lest it get bounced back at him.
James seized the opportunity to take back his momentum.
"Expelliarmus!"
Snape shifted to the side, barely avoiding the spell whilst the fire tickled his back. James took a
step forward.
"Stupefy!"
Snape took a step back.
"Impedimenta!"
James rushed forward after casting this last spell, and Snape, after ducking it, let out a cry of
surprise at James' quickly approaching figure. Snape shuffled backwards and tripped over some
rubble from the roof, falling to the ground in a heap.
James ran at him, ready to settle this score at long last.
"James," Marlene's voice called shrilly from behind him.
He looked up and stopped running abruptly.
Lord Voldemort stood, a few feet behind Snape's slumped form on the ground, smiling sinisterly at
James.
A moment passed in which he looked into those cold, hateful eyes.
I could end the war, right here and now.
Flames licked at his face and arms, and as he considered all the countless lives he could save, and
the suffering that could be avoided, James truly felt the weight of the world on his shoulders for
the first time in his life.
In a moment of acceptance, James raised his chin and squared his shoulders, lifting his arm to point
his wand at Lord Voldemort.
"Potter, don't you dare try it," the voice of Lily Evans yelled from behind.
James hesitated.
It was a bad idea, he knew. Perhaps it was the arrogance she spoke of so often that made him
believe he could win a duel against Voldemort. James preferred to think of it as inextinguishable
optimism.
But it was a bad idea.
So, for once, he didn't do it.
James closed his eyes and waved his wand, first casting a Shield Charm over the body of Severus
Snape, then pointing it in a stabbing motion at Voldemort. The flames in the corridor leapt up and
rushed at Voldemort in their entirety, filling the air in front of James with the inferno.
Then, without checking to see the result, he turned on his heel and sprinted towards the wall and
his friends, not looking back.
They had managed to rebuild the wall, thankfully, and James skirted around it and rejoined them.
Peter was unconscious now and slung over Sirius' shoulder, Frank and Alice were still whispering
to each other and waving their wands furiously, Marlene was shooting stunning jinxes from behind
the wall, and Lily Evans had her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at James.
She made to say something, but he held up his hand, stopping her.
"No time. Hey, is there another exit?"
Sirius shook his head miserably. "Not that we know of."
James nodded, and looked at Frank and Alice. "How close are we, guys?"
Frank didn't look away from his work as he answered. "Very, very close. We need more time."
James nodded again. "Well we won't get that time staying here. McKinnon, pack it up, we're off."
Marlene sent one last jinx off into the sea of fire at the other end of the corridor, before reinforcing
the wall with a spell and turning to James.
"Back the way we came?" she asked.
He wrinkled his nose. "I'm afraid so. Let's go."
And with that, they turned away from the wall and sprinted back down the corridor, leaving the
inferno, the Death Eaters, and Lord Voldemort behind them. For how long, James was not certain.
If he had to hazard a guess though, it would not be very long.
Back they went, hurtling down the never-ending series of corridors at full throttle, not daring to
pause or look back for a single moment. A left, then a right, then a long stretch of tiled wood, and
James still didn't feel even a little tired, all the adrenaline in his body kicking in and flooding him
with strength and energy.
Soon they closed in on the spot where they'd left the two Death Eaters from earlier slumped on the
ground.
Only, it wasn't just the two Death Eaters waiting for them. Running towards the teens, wands out
and masks glinting in the lamplight, were eight more Death Eaters.
James stopped from the front of the group and looked back, seeing shadows looming down the far
end of the way they had just come.
He looked around in desperation, and his gaze rested on one of the closed doors lining the corridor
wall to their right. He grabbed the handle and yanked it open.
"In," he said quickly, hurrying the group along.
The door opened to a small, barren, windowless room, lit only by the lamps hung just below the
ceiling.
They rushed in, Frank and Alice first, followed by Lily and Marlene. Sirius lingered by the door
frame with James for a moment, Peter still slung over his shoulder.
"A closed door isn't going to stop him," Sirius said quietly, as Death Eaters from either side of the
corridor charged towards them. "No matter how many enchantments we put on it."
"We don't need to stop him," James replied, unperturbed by the hordes of Death Eaters closing in
from both ends. "We just need to buy some more time."
"For Frank and Alice?" Sirius asked sharply. "So it's just a gamble on time, now?"
James nodded slowly and entered the room, Sirius following him in. Shutting the door gently,
James rested his palm against it before replying.
"Trust in our friends, Padfoot."
Sirius looked at him for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he pointed his wand at the door.
"You'd better be right, Prongs. Protego totalum!"
"Salvio hexia!"
"Colloportus!"
They threw defensive spell after defensive spell at the door. By the time they were done with it, it
glowed a hot white.
"How long will that hold for?" Marlene asked.
"In a perfect world?" Sirius grimaced at the door. "Forever."
"Glad we live in a perfect world then," Lily sighed.
James and Sirius walked away from their handiwork and turned to face the group.
"How close are we, Frank, Alice?" James asked, sounding more relaxed than he had any right to.
"We're almost there," Frank murmured.
"Just keep that door shut," Alice added.
James nodded easily. "Will do."
No sooner did he say it than a heart-wrenching cracking noise could be heard from behind him.
James whirled around and watched a spider-web of crevices break out across the area of wall
surrounding their enchanted door.
"Oh, bollocks…"
Jets of light flooded into the room through the cracks, hitting the walls, floor, ceiling, and forcing
the teens to duck for cover.
"Close the holes up," James yelled over the sounds of splintering wood and shouts from both
within the room and out. "Buy Frank and Alice as much time as possible!"
He and Lily ran to the left side of the door, Marlene and Sirius to the right, and began pouring a
stream of protective spells into the crevices. But it was too late - the openings were made, and
curses and jinxes were flowing through them like tap-water.
A wide crack suddenly split across a part of the wall near James' head, and a green curse burst
through, coming within an inch of his neck and flying past to sizzle into the far wall.
"Bloody hell," James breathed.
Lily aimed her wand through the crack. "Stupefy!"
A grunt came from the other side of the wall, and the sound of a body hitting the ground soon
after.
"You know Potter, you really are the master of excellent planning, terrible delivery."
James gaped at her, leaning to the side as another spell burst through yet another crack in the wall.
"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"
Lily ducked under a blast of red light from a particularly large gap. "You really enchanted just the
door and not the wall? What, were you hoping the Death Eaters would be nice enough to stop
chasing us and go home when they saw the door was locked?"
James pointed his wand into a small crack and shot a jet of white light through it. "I'm sorry, I
didn't hear you making these wonderfully constructive criticisms when they mattered."
Lily scoffed and cast a shield charm on a large hole near her head just in time, bouncing a flash of
yellow light back where it had come from. "Well it didn't occur to me that our great leader, who
sees fit to order all of us simpletons around and take on the big problems himself, would need help
from a silly, weak little girl like me."
James gave a frustrated sigh and jabbed his wand forwards into one of the larger holes. A stream of
fire erupted from his wand and gushed through to the other side, bringing forth yells and curses
from the Death Eaters. "It has nothing to do with you being a girl-"
"And everything to do," Lily interrupted, her red hair flying as she twisted between a string of
hexes, "with you being an arrogant, egocentric idiot who has to do everything his way."
"Really?" James turned to face her. "This again?"
"Yes," Lily burst exasperatedly, stopping and facing him too. "It will always be this."
The streams of light continued to pour through from between the cracks, but James and Lily took
no notice of them. The two would have to shift a little every few moments, avoiding the curses, but
otherwise acknowledged nothing at all except the other's gaze. Somehow, this was enough for
them to avoid being hit, as if the Death Eaters were happy to give them a moment.
"I told you I'll do things my way," James said. "That the way I approach this war is up to me, and
it's my own business. I said if that's not good enough for you, then tough, because that's just the
way it is."
Lily said nothing, staring at him with an unreadable expression.
"And you said okay," he added, sounding tired. "This was literally less than an hour ago."
Lily bit her lip and just looked at him for a few moments before responding. "I didn't realize
how stupid your approach to this war is," she said at last. "Were you really going to try to duel
You-Know-Who yourself?"
James hesitated. He made to answer, but heard a yell from elsewhere in the room.
"We've done it!"

It was Frank. He tossed aside the Death Eater's wand that had cast the anti-disapparition jinx, and
he and Alice joined the four by the door.
The jets of light had stopped raining in through the cracks in the wall, but none of the teens
noticed, distracted as they were by this long-awaited good news. They failed to observe the sudden
lull from the other side of the wall.
"We cracked the counter-jinx," Frank beamed. "It's off now!"
"So let's get out of here, you lot," said Alice, looking exhausted but happy.
James, Lily, Sirius and Marlene took a moment to let this sink in. Then, grateful grins broke out
across their faces, their shoulders slowly relaxing and letting the tension slip away, at ease at last.
They all started laughing, tentatively at first, and then happily, joyously, with identical looks of
disbelief and glee on their faces.
"Thank Merlin," James breathed.
Sirius, letting out his cheerful bark of laughter, walked over to where he had left Peter's still-
unconscious form and slung him over his shoulder again. Then he walked back and joined the rest
of them as they looked at each other in wonder.
They all stood there for one small moment, just before linking up to disapparate, processing the
idea that they really would make it out of there alive.
The silence of the moment struck James as odd. It shouldn't have been silent, right then. It
shouldn't have been calm, either. Something was odd.
James glanced at the door. It wasn't glowing white anymore.
His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to yell a warning to his friends, but he was too late.
The wall exploded deafeningly, raining chunks of debris and plaster and wood at the teens, the
force knocking them off their feet.
The roof was blown off from above them, smashed and torn and gone in a split-second.
James closed his eyes as a wave of dirt flooded his face and he flew through the air for a moment,
before hitting the ground hard enough to take all the breath from his body.
His ears were ringing and his eyes were closed and he couldn't process a single thought.
Chunks of rock or wood were falling on his body and he barely registered the pain as he lay in a
heap on the ground.
After what felt like an eternity, James opened his eyes blearily and saw a blue sky where the roof
had been just moments before. He felt weight on his chest and looked down. Planks of wood and
lumps of plaster lay on him. He reached down and brushed them off, and then tried to sit up. James
gasped in pain, feeling like something was stabbing him from the inside of his body.
He was experienced enough with injuries to recognize at least a cracked rib or two, as well as
internal bruising and bleeding.
He looked around.
All the walls had received the same treatment as the roof, smashed or broken, opening up the small
room to the rest of the massive house.
It was bright now, the sun shining down into the room, the clouds from earlier in the day nowhere
to be seen anymore, bathing the room in sunshine, as well as parts of the house he was sure had
never seen light.
James' eyes rested on the front of the room.
Lord Voldemort stood where the door and wall had been, looking in with an amused smile and his
eyes ablaze. He lowered his wand now and locked eyes with James. The urge to run away as far as
possible struck James as he met those eyes, an urge he had never before felt in his life. Of course,
James had no intention of doing so.
With a groan, James pushed himself off the ground and stood, wincing and clutching his torso at
the excruciating pain.
Around him, he dimly noticed Lily, Alice, and Frank also stand, the four of them gathering
together to meet Voldemort's chilling gaze.
Sirius and Marlene were slumped on the ground, just by where Peter still lay, all covered in planks
of wood.
A good few seconds passed as Voldemort looked at the four who stood against him.
Behind him, his Death Eaters gathered once more, forming a sea of black just beyond the Dark
Lord.
Voldemort slowly raised his wand again, pointed it at the four teens.
James closed his eyes. He didn't feel fear - if anything, it was calmness. He knew he'd done all he
could, for himself and his friends, to keep them alive. And in his mind, he knew that this was
the more he'd been looking for these last couple days - the more that he hadn't been able to explain
to Sirius, but somehow to Lily.
Behind his closed eyes, he steeled himself to see that flash of green.
It didn't come.
Instead, it was a blinding white light that hit his shut eyelids. He opened his eyes.
Albus Dumbledore stood in front of the four teens, all the sunlight in the world seeming to pour
onto the one spot where he stood, filling the room with an aura of hope and salvation that even
James hadn't dared to grant himself before that moment.
The elderly wizard stood as tall as a gladiator, and the fearsome presence of Voldemort paled in
comparison with the blinding brilliance of Hogwarts' Headmaster.
Voldemort had frozen on the spot, staring at Dumbledore disbelievingly. When he spoke, it came
out as more of a hiss than anything. "Old man."
James couldn't see Dumbledore's face from behind, and couldn't make much out from the back of
the great man's head, but when Dumbledore spoke it was as clear as the blue sky above them all.
"Good evening, Tom."
The four teens frowned and looked at each other confusedly at that, the question in their eyes quite
obvious. Who was Tom?
The name seemed to have some sort of effect on Voldemort, though. His eyes narrowed, and the
expression on his face contorted into one of pure hatred.
James thought Voldemort would raise his wand and curse Professor Dumbledore. Or maybe even
just yell at him.
Instead, with a simple pop, Voldemort disapparated away.
A moment passed in which every pair of eyes present stayed fixed at the empty space where
Voldemort had just been, as though expecting him to reappear. After a few seconds, the Death
Eaters seemed to realize it was over. Gradually, one by one, they too disapparated away with a
series of pops.
Dumbledore didn't move to stop them.
Once they were all gone, and the only ones left were he and the teens, Dumbledore turned around
and looked at them. At Sirius, Marlene and Peter on the floor, submerged in rubble. At Frank,
Alice, Lily and James, huddled together in front of him.
He gave them a small smile, half amused and half exasperated. His blue eyes twinkled behind half-
moon spectacles as he looked at each of them in turn. When eventually he spoke, the teens realized
it really was over.
"Term begins in two days," he said, his tone light and conversational, as though talking about the
weather, "so I would be remiss to grant Gryffindor an abundance of points before the Hogwarts
Express even pulls into Kings Cross Station."
He paused thoughtfully, and the teens stared at him with confused expressions.
"But," he continued, sunlight glinting off his spectacles, "I can't imagine anyone being upset over,
say, a ten point head start. Can you?"
Front Page
Lily walked down the street she'd grown up on, smiling at neighbours who had probably never had
a small army of lunatics trying to kill them.
If old Mrs Pickerton from down the road had stared down the end of Lord Voldemort's wand, Lily
wondered if she would be able to trim the hedges and prune potted plants with the same carefree
ease.
The events of the previous day had haunted Lily's dreams during the night, and the morning had
found her hugging her mum and dad that little bit more tightly. She'd knocked on Petunia's door,
but got no answer.
Lily kicked a pebble along the footpath, frowning a little as she walked.
She couldn't tell her parents about the war. They worried about her being off in a wonderful,
magical, yet mind-bogglingly complex world enough as it was. How could she tell her parents that
because they were not magical, she was worth less in the eyes of every powerful or influential
person in her world?
Of course, Lily remembered, there were also people like Albus Dumbledore around.
And James Potter.
Even after the events of the previous day, that boy was still somewhat of an enigma to Lily.
Was he despicable or admirable? Funny or cruel? Brilliant or arrogant?
There were times when he could be any or all of those things.
What bothered Lily the most was that when he was at his very best, she found herself inexplicably
drawn to him, like a moth to candlelight. And yet when he was at his very worst, she still found
herself drawn to him, albeit for different reasons.
No matter which one it was, she and he seemed to always be entangled, and Lily was not pleased
with it one bit. Even as the group of them had posed together for a photo the previous day, which
Lily figured was probably for the front page of that morning's Prophet, Lily was right by his side,
laughing maliciously at how silly he looked as he vainly messed his hair up for the photo. Of
course, the photographer chose that moment of her smiling at him to take the picture. It was as if
everything involving James Potter happened only to frustrate her. Or, she had to admit, on rare
occasion, delight her.
"Why can't he just be consistent?" Lily grumbled, giving the pebble a particularly strong kick.
The neighbourhood gradually began to change as Lily walked. The streets grew dirtier, the smiles
grew tighter, and the colors grew duller. Even the sun saw fit to hide behind the clouds, leaving a
cold, sullen atmosphere in the air of Spinner's End.
It didn't take Lily long to find him. She was thankful for that, as it saved her the trouble of having
to go to his house and ask for him.
"What are you doing here?"

Lily gave no indication that she'd been caught off-guard, and turned around slowly to face Severus
Snape. He looked mostly the same as when she had last seen him, pleading with her after the end-
of-term feast to talk with him, to be his friend again. Pale faced, sallow skin, and, Lily had to admit
to herself, quite greasy hair.
One thing had changed though. His eyes were different now. Not in color, but rather… the life
seemed to have left them.
Where once she had seen excitement in those eyes, as he explained to her what a 'Slytherin' was,
and that 'Yes, ghosts really do exist', now Lily only saw black. A cold, calculating sea of black. The
same black eyes behind the Death Eater mask that James Potter had taken one good look at and
then immediately thrown caution to the wind for, to run into the inferno and throw down the
gauntlet against his enemy.
"We need to talk," she said.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Then talk."
Lily sighed. Now that she was there, looking at him, she found that she really didn't want to talk.
"You were there yesterday," she said quietly. "Weren't you?"
Snape didn't answer, just looked at her. It was all the confirmation she needed.
"So would you have captured me?" Lily needed to know. "If Potter hadn't beaten you, would you
have tried to duel and capture me?"
Snape's blank features twisted into a telling sneer. "Potter did not beat me-"
"Please Severus, I was there. I saw it."
Snape closed his mouth and seemed to make a concerted effort to control his emotions. When his
expression was blank again, he repeated himself.
"Potter did not beat me," he said calmly. "Our duel was not over. In fact, it still isn't."
"That wasn't my question. I couldn't care less about your duel," she told him. "Sev, I need to
know… would you really have tried to capture me?"
Lily saw the gears turning in the boy's head, and she wondered if he knew the answer himself.
"Even if my answer is no," he said after a pause, his expression guarded, "what would it really
change?"
Lily's response was more of a plea, begging him to understand.
"Everything."
Life flooded into the boy's eyes at the word, at the olive branch. Lily was filled with hope as she
saw emotion, softness, and perhaps a glimmer of regret - life - swim around in the black eyes of
Severus Snape.
"I… I don't know what I would have done," he said eventually, softly. His eyes were downcast,
looking at the ground like it knew what the correct response was.
Lily nodded, more of a twitch of her head than anything. Though it wasn't the answer she had
wanted to hear, it wasn't the one she had dreaded hearing either. At the very least his honesty spoke
volumes to her that, at least to some degree, she could trust him.
"Well, let me know when you find out."
Breakfast at the Potters' was the same mad, lively affair it always was.
"Well, obviously I'm in the middle of the photo," Sirius reasoned. "I'm better looking."
"You are not in the middle of the photo," a very stubborn James insisted, scowling a little at his
plate.
"Except I am."
"You are clearly at least half a centimetre left of the middle."
"Notice how he didn't contest you being better-looking, Sirius," Mrs Potter chuckled, as she swept
round the table to ladle scrambled eggs onto each of the four plates.
"There's not much to contest, is there?" Mr Potter chimed in, eyeing the scrambled eggs eagerly.
"One of the boys is clearly better looking than the other."
"'Clearly' is a strong word," James grumbled.
"But you are quite grotesque looking, James," Mr Potter insisted, reaching across the table to grab
a slice of toast off the pile.
"I am often told that I am the spitting image of you," James frowned.
"Whoever told him that must have just felt sorry for him," Sirius whispered to James' parents.
The three of them threw their heads back and laughed. Mrs Potter even pointed at James as she
laughed.
James ignored them and then smiled to himself as he repositioned that morning's Daily Prophet in
the middle of the table to see it better.
Lily Evans didn't seem to think he was all that bad, judging from the photo. While the photo
version of James alternated between mussing his hair up and trying to shove Sirius further to the
left so he could claim the middle of the picture for himself, Lily was standing on his other side and
watching him, a wide grin on her face and a twinkle in her eyes.
"But really, James," his mother said, drawing his attention back to the three of them, "if you would
just comb your hair once in a while, you would be such a handsome boy."
James gave her an exasperated look as he began to butter his toast. "Mum, combing my hair is just
as effective a method of taming it as giving me a detention is to 'improve my behaviour'. And for
your information, the girls at Hogwarts all think my hair is plenty attractive as it is."
"Most of them," Sirius corrected.
"Most of them," James agreed. "My point being, I reckon I've done alright so far."
Some mothers may have dropped the point there, but Mrs Potter was not some mothers.
"But you have bits of wood in your hair, James, see?" She pushed the newspaper further towards
him and jabbed her finger at photo-James' hair. Photo-James dodged to the side, avoiding the
accusatory finger and bumping into photo-Lily, who punched him in the ribs.
"Yes Mother, that would be because a building got dropped on me. Twice!"
Sirius made a face. "More like one and a half times. And you blew the first one up yourself, too."
Mrs Potter opened her mouth, no doubt to leap onto James' blowing up of the podium, but Mr
Potter spoke up.
"On that note - you've probably been told this already, James," he said, his face growing serious as
he paused his shovelling of scrambled egg into his mouth. "But you really did do an extraordinary
job yesterday. And you, Sirius. The two of you have made us very proud indeed."
Sirius visibly swelled at the praise, grinning at Mr and Mrs Potter with an unusually shy, childlike
demeanor that a five-year-old might get when patted on their head and told 'good job'.
James meanwhile stared at a spot on the wall, thinking that the praise was rather empty to him.
"I had to do something," he said aloud. He'd realized that, amid all of the praise he had received
over the course of the last day, and it made him understand that his actions really weren't all that
impressive. He would always have done something - as long as Voldemort was threatening
muggleborns, and especially as long as a certain someone happened to be one of them. "To stop
him from killing all the muggleborns present, I had to do something. I'll never lose someone close
to me if there's something I can do about it."
The other three stopped eating for a moment after this declaration. As James could have predicted,
it was Mrs Potter who broke the silence. He could not have predicted what she said, though.
"Who's the muggleborn that's close to you, James?"
James froze. Sirius' head whipped up to stare at James, a grin threatening to break out across his
face. Mr Potter watched James with curiosity, too.
James panicked, his mind hurriedly sifting through the muggleborns he knew. "Gavin Gergitch,"
he said.
"The fifth year Hufflepuff?" Sirius asked in a strained voice, biting his lip quite hard.
"That's right," James said defiantly.
"You know," said Mrs Potter, "I think I recognize that name."
"No, you must be mistak-"
"It was in a letter we received from Professor McGonnagal, I believe," she continued thoughtfully.
"Didn't you push him into the Great Lake?"
"He was standing on the edge like an idiot," James responded immediately. "What was I supposed
to do, not push him in?"
"It was winter, James."
"Gavin has a great sense of humor."

"He could have frozen."
"And yet he didn't. Just like that, I made a beautiful friendship," James insisted with forced gusto.
Mrs Potter didn't look convinced.
"And now we're quite close, really," he continued. "If I lost Gavin, I… I don't know what I would
do."
Sirius had his fist in his mouth, trying and failing to hide his laughter, tears in his eyes.
"Hm," said Mrs Potter. "Well, you can tell me more about Gavin while you help me fry the bacon.
Up you get."
She stood up and strode over to the kitchen, looking back at James and waiting for him.
James groaned. "Can't Sirius help? I'm eating."
"And I'm not?" Sirius quirked an eyebrow.
James opened his mouth to tell his friend he didn't care, but Sirius changed his mind, getting to his
feet and walking over to Mrs Potter. "Although I'd be happy to help, Mrs P. You know how much I
love our chats."
Mrs Potter beamed at him and they headed to the kitchen together, babbling on about one thing or
another.
"Suck up," James muttered under his breath, turning his attention back to his breakfast and
scanning the front page of the Prophet.
After a few seconds, he noticed his father watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he turned
to meet his gaze. "What?"
Mr Potter smiled slightly, waiting a moment before responding. "Despite it all, you really enjoyed
yourself yesterday, didn't you?"
James blanched. "Of course not. It was terrifying and traumatizing and-"
"James."
James paused and saw the twinkle in his father's eye, then cracked a smile and continued. "And
exhilarating. Maybe even, I don't know, fulfilling? Despite everything that was wrong about
yesterday, there were a handful of things that were very… right."
Mr Potter nodded, giving James a knowing smile. "You're a natural leader, James. You have an
incessant need to help people, as well as to constantly challenge yourself and even those around
you. It's a gift."
James shrugged off the praise - something he'd been doing a lot of recently.
As he pondered the events of the day before, his thoughts drifted to Hogwarts, and the new term
starting in just over a day. And, as always, brilliant ideas flooded into James Potter's mind.
The Knight Bus sped along, flitting from street to alley to even the occasional sidewalk.
Remus' headache felt like it was splitting his mind in two, and the jostling of the bus was not
helping one bit. He felt lethargic and weak, and with each bump it took all his strength to stop
himself from falling onto the people sitting either side of him.
"Full moon tonight," said the man next to him suddenly, not taking his eyes off the morning paper.
Remus stiffened and turned to look at the man, slowly and inconspicuously reaching for his wand.
"They say Mars will be visible, too," the man continued, jabbing a long article on the paper. "I still
need to pick up a new telescope from Diagon Alley. Are you much of an Astronomer, boy?"
Remus paused, and then relaxed his arm back onto his lap. "No," he said. "I'm not a big fan of the
night sky, if I'm being honest."
The man shook his head disapprovingly. "That's the problem with all you kids, you're all about the
flashy spells and smelly potions. No appreciation for the finer magical arts."
Remus didn't respond. He worried if he did that he might throw up.
The man flipped the paper back to the front page. Remus took a look at the page and then looked
away promptly.
"That Diagon Alley business was a right mess, let me tell you," the man said after a moment of
scanning the page. "No Aurors, no apparating, no floo… it's a miracle no one died!"
Despite himself, Remus couldn't resist another peek at the page. The huge picture that took up half
the page popped out at him, just as it had that morning when he'd first seen it. Remus looked for a
long moment at all his bruised and battered best friends waving up at him from the paper with wide
grins on their faces.
"And to think, it took these kids to save the day in the end," the man wrinkled his nose. "I'd
imagine all the others are feeling fairly useless right about now."
Remus looked away from the paper again, and stared at a spot on the floor as his mind waged war
with his body.
"Yeah," he said. "I'd imagine they are."
"I'm not sure I've understood you, Dumbledore," said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, hanging on
the wall of the Headmaster's office among all of Dumbledore's other predecessors. "Are you really
planning on turning these children into a military unit?"
Dumbledore chuckled lightly and leaned on his desk, glancing sideways at the portrait. "Nothing
quite so crude I'm afraid, Phineas. I now only recognize the need for a group of talented,
determined, and influential students to take on tasks around the school that, for instance, a
Headmaster may not be able to. Voldemort already has Death Eaters among the students coming
back to the castle tomorrow, who will seek to influence, harm, and corrupt their classmates. It is
critical that we have a group of our own."
Fawkes flew out of his cage then, gracefully arcing through the air to perch on Dumbledore's
outstretched arm, spreading his magnificent wings wide and drawing the attention of all eyes in the
room, portrait or not.
"And what about once they've finished school, Dumbledore?" Phineas asked quietly after a few
moments. "Will you send those hot-headed seventeen-year-olds into a war for which they will
likely lose their lives?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily and cast his gaze towards the Daily Prophet sitting on his desk. "Look
at the frontpage of the paper, Phineas. I didn't send them anywhere, yet still they went. The least I
can do is guide them now."
Fawkes squawked, almost in agreement, bringing a small smile to Dumbledore's lined features.
But Phineas wasn't done. "How do you know all these kids are trustworthy? How easily could just
one of them turn traitor? What of the were-wolf, where was he yesterday?"
"Tonight is a full moon, Phineas. He was smart not to go yesterday - unfortunate as it is, he would
have only been in the way."
Phineas snorted. "Sounds mighty convenient, if you ask me. The attack was scheduled right in time
for the full moon? We know the Dark Lord has been recruiting were-wolves. And we know
how trustworthy these were-wolves are anyway-"
"Remus Lupin is not a traitor," Dumbledore cut in, speaking slowly but revealing the smallest hint
of anger in his voice. "And this is the last I will hear on the matter."
And it was the last he would hear on the matter. For at least another handful of years, at any rate.
Worth It
The Hogwarts Express chugged out of King's Cross Station at last, and Lily for one could not be
more relieved that the break was finally over. The dreary and uneventful summer, coupled with its
terrifying and life-threatening end, had taken a strong mental toll on her - much less of a 'break'
than she had hoped for.
"Do you reckon Slughorn will be mad that I didn't do the homework?" Marlene asked as she,
Alice, and Lily navigated their way along the corridor, stopping at each compartment to check if it
was empty. "I was busy fighting off You-Know-Who, afterall."
Alice looked doubtful. "Given that it only happened the day before yesterday, I imagine he won't
see that as much of an excuse."
Lily peeked into a compartment as they passed it and kept walking.
"What do you reckon, Lily?" Marlene poked her shoulder. "Sluggy loves you, surely you can put in
a good word."
She peeked into another compartment. Fourth Year Hufflepuffs playing Gobstones. Kept walking.
"Professor Slughorn loves me because I do my homework," she said, not breaking her stride. "Next
time, don't procrastinate."
Marlene scoffed. Lily couldn't see it, but she knew her friend was rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. We
both know I'm just going to copy yours anyway."
A few loud Second Years came running down the length of the narrow corridor. Alice and Marlene
were kind enough to pause and wait as Lily stopped the kids, giving them a stern warning.
Marlene smirked at her when she turned back to them. "Someone's feeling grumpy, I see."
Lily rolled her eyes and set off again at a brisk pace, slowing only when she felt Alice's hand on
her shoulder.
"You haven't said a lot since we've seen you today. Is something bothering you?" the mindful girl
asked with a furrowed brow.
Lily wrinkled her nose, waiting a moment before she answered. "No. Nothing really."
"Are you sure-"
"Yes, Alice. I'm fine."
She waited until Alice nodded, and then they kept walking. Her friends were quiet beside her now.
Lily groaned inwardly. She hadn't meant to let her frustrations show, but now she'd gone and put a
damper on the mood. In a way at least she was glad for it. She didn't much feel like pretending to
be upbeat just then, and she could at least make use of the silence while she had it. Maybe she'd
crack open a book once they found a compartment, get a nice few hours of quiet before the
madness that was Hogwarts.
The last thing she wanted to do was entertain a conversation that wasn't going anywh-
"Hey, Lily." A compartment door just ahead of her opened, and out walked a Seventh Year
Ravenclaw with slicked back hair and a very punchable face. His name was Tim, or something to
that effect. "You're looking as ravishing as always."
Lily didn't say anything. He seemed to realize she didn't intend to respond so he quickly continued.
"First Hogsmeade visit isn't too far off, you know. I was wondering if you would like to
accompany me to it, maybe as friends? Or maybe as something more, who knows?"
He winked.
Lily noted with detached amusement that this was their first ever conversation. If it could even be
called that. She answered his question with one of her own, and pretended that his answer would
have any sway on her decision. "How do you compare to the last person who asked me out, Tim?"
"Tom."
She didn't correct herself. Again she watched him figure that was she wasn't inclined to respond.
"Who- Who was the last person to ask you out?"
She smiled. "James Potter."
The look of realization that crossed his face made Lily want to laugh. He should have expected
that, really. Whether she liked it or not, the darn prat's name and hers tended to go in the same
sentence.
"I'm sure you know of him," she continued. "His reputation really does proceed him. And even
though I rejected him, being the possessive and arrogant prat that he is I doubt he'd take kindly to
you asking me out."
The boy's face flushed first, and then colored rapidly. "I can take him."
Lily snorted. "No, you can't. And I don't fancy a downgrade from him either, bad as he is. So I'll
have to kindly reject your offer, Tim. Do stay in your compartment until the train reaches
Hogsmeade. I'm due to patrol soon and I'd hate to have to give you a warning."
With that she walked on, leaving him there to gape at empty space.
Marlene and Alice hurried to catch up with her.
"Grumpy Lily is my favorite," Marlene whispered.
Alice was smiling slightly. "You realize that rejection was you saying you're basically involved
with James Potter, right?"
Lily clicked her tongue impatiently. "By an extraordinary stretch of the imagination, perhaps.
Besides, if Potter insists on being an insufferable git then I may as well benefit from it every now
and then."
Alice let out a cough that sounded rather like the word 'excuses'.
Marlene was up ahead of them, looking into a compartment. "Well, seeing as you feel that way
Lily," the girl said, sliding the door open, "I doubt we'll find an empty compartment, so this will
have to do."
Inside were Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, and they looked up eagerly as the
girls walked in.
"Top of the morning," Sirius said loudly, grinning and spreading his arms wide. "Please, make
yourselves at home. We'd like you to think of our compartment as your compartment. You need
anything? Drinks, food, tour of the room?"
Marlene swatted him on the back of the head and collapsed on the seat next to him.
Lily looked around and almost asked the obvious question, but stopped herself in time.
Alice asked it for her.
"Where's James?"
Lily sat next to Remus and smiled at him warmly, to broadcast to anyone watching that she wasn't
bothered about Sirius' answer to the question.
"Quidditch meeting," Sirius said dismissively, with an off-handed gesture to somewhere further
down the train.
"Already?" Alice looked surprised.
A twinkle appeared in Sirius' eyes. "He's putting a lot on his plate this year. Best to start early."
Lily gazed out the window as Alice and Marlene probed Sirius for more information, with the latter
remaining tight-lipped on the matter.
"Are you alright, Lily?" Remus asked her. "You seem quiet."
Lily wanted to sigh in annoyance, but she couldn't do that to Remus.
"I'm fine," she said instead. "Just tired."
Remus nodded. "I know the feeling, trust me. Are you having trouble sleeping?"
Lily groaned. "Merlin, yes. I woke up from a n… dream at about two in the morning. I ended up
eating and wandering about the house until sunrise, I couldn't go back to sleep."
Or rather, she didn't want to go back to sleep. Not if she would just get the same 'dream' again.
"Yeah," said Remus. "I was up for most of the night too."
Lily looked at him curiously. "Same problem as me?"
A wry smile from Remus. "Pretty much. A lot of wandering about. A little bit of eating that I'm not
very proud of."
Lily chuckled. "Oh, I can definitely relate to that. I had corn chips. You?"
Remus hesitated. "About the same, really. Hey, aren't you due to patrol now?"
Lily froze for a moment, and then jumped to her feet. "Shit, how did I forget? Oi, you lot - I'm off
to patrol, I won't be long. Thanks Remus!"
She heard him say "Don't worry about it" before she closed the compartment door behind her and
set off to the front of the corridor to start her patrol.
As she patrolled, alone with her thoughts, Lily found herself settling back into an irritable mood.
Over the length of the corridor, she gave eight verbal warnings, three lectures on proper conduct,
and four detentions.
"But I have an audition for Flitwick's choir on that day," the twitchy Third Year protested.
"You should have thought about that before you set a niffler loose in the corridor," Lily informed
him, sticking her nose in the air.
Five detentions.
She stalked off, looking for more punishments to dole out. She had expected to be in a better mood
by then. Talking to Remus had been nice, but it hadn't really done much other than only briefly
abate her foul mood. What more could she do?
As she reached the end of the train, she caught a glimpse into one of the last compartments.
Before she could stop herself, she slid open the door and stepped in.
"Alright, Potter?"
James Potter was alone, sitting by the window and pouring over some notes. He looked up at her in
surprise, and then a grin spread across his face.
Despite herself, Lily felt a small smile of her own creep on.
"I'm not bad," he said. "Yourself?"
She walked over and sat down opposite him.
She didn't say she was fine. She had no reason to placate or reassure him.
"Argue with me," she said instead.
"I'm sorry?"
"I want to argue, Potter. Go on, say something stupid and obnoxious."
He watched her for a moment, confusion blending with amusement on his face, before he shrugged
and rose to the challenge as she knew he would.
"There's going to be a party in the Common Room tonight. When I asked you back in Diagon Alley
if I could bring alcohol in, you said no."
Lily nodded. "I did say no."
"And now?"
She didn't hesitate. "No."
"Right, see, I thought you might say that. Now see here, Evans. People are expecting to have a
good time tonight-"
"And you're saying they can only do so if they're drunk?"

"No, I'm saying it would certainly help if they were drunk. Let me tell you a story, Evans."
"Oh, here we go."
"It's about a little Second Year Gryffindor boy called Jeronimo."
"How sweet."
"Quite. Now, Jeronimo has a little Second Year Gryffindor girl that he really likes. But he doesn't-"
"What's her name?"
"What?"
"The girl's name, Potter. What is it?"
He glared. "Does it matter?"
"It'll help me get more immersed in the story."
"Fine. Her name is Lucy."
"Are you sure? Not Laura? Lydia? Lorelei?"
"No, it's Lucy."
"Okay."
"Okay. Now Jeronimo really likes Lucy, but she's rejected him countless times."
"Shocker."
"Yes, Jeronimo thinks so too. But he's hoping that if she just loosened up a bit-"
"I'm sure Lucy is plenty loose already."
"Jeronimo disagrees."
"He does, does he?"
"Yes, he told me."
"Well you should tell Jeronimo that he should really just take no for an answer, and rather than try
to change Lucy's mind he should consider why she rejected him in the first place."
"I'm sure Jeronimo has already put plenty of consideration into why she-"
"Furthermore," Lily continued, "you can tell Jeronimo that there are better ways to Lucy's heart
than getting her drunk and trying his luck."
"He'll probably want to know what those ways are."
"Well tell him that's tough. He has to figure it out himself."
"He probably won't be pleased with that."
"Yeah, I can imagine. He sounds like a real self-entitled brat."

"Actually," James argued, "I think he's a lot better these days-"
"He's twelve."
"Thirteen, thank you very much. And he's really found his element recently-"
"Well, I'd love to meet him. Where is he?"
"Unavailable."
"Is he not on the train?"
"I won't give you his location. You called him a brat, he won't feel safe."
"A very impressive little boy, I see."
"Well Lucy's not that much better."
"Oh really?"
"She's stubborn."
"He's arrogant."
"She's obsessed with the rules."
"He's obsessed with himself."
"Pale skin-
"Crooked grin-"
"Prude."
"Prat.
"Idiot," they both said at the same time. Then they paused and looked at one another, half smiles
starting to form on their faces.
And they laughed. Lily slowly felt her whole day brighten as she sat opposite James Potter and
laughed, both teens grinning and guffawing at one another as a sunny, blue and green meadow
rolled past the window.
"I needed this," Lily said after a few more chuckles. "Thanks, Potter."
He inclined his head, still grinning.
Feeling bubbly now, Lily threw her restraint out the window and hopped across to the other side,
sitting next to him rather than opposite.
"So what's all this, then?" she asked, peering at the notes he held.
"You first," he said, tilting them away from her.
She stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Well," he said, folding the notes and tucking them away, "you seemed a little down earlier. And
you came in here to talk specifically to me. You must have been in a terrible mood."
He waited, perhaps for her to deny it. When she didn't, he pressed.
"What happened?"
Her face clouded. "It's not a fun story."
"Well, I'm not in it, so that's a no-brainer really."
She elbowed him in the side, hard.
"It happened this morning."
"I know about your condition."
Not for the first time, Lily was struck by how ridiculous Vernon Dursley looked and sounded. Even
the way he carried himself, like a strutting peacock with a beer-belly, was comical for her to
behold.
"My… condition?"
Vernon nodded, the ends of his moustache swaying in the air. "Petunia told me all about it. Your
tricks and freakish, unnatural tendencies."
Lily eyed him cautiously. "You mean magic?"
"Hocus pocus."
"No, just magic."
"Occult voodoo."
She sighed. Having stayed up all night, refusing to go back to sleep, Lily could think of plenty of
other ways she would rather be spending the morning of her first day of Sixth Year than this, sitting
at the dining table with Vernon Dursley for an interrogation.
"Sure," she said. "Well, what about it then?"
Vernon drew himself to his full height, Lily assumed in order to look somewhat impressive. She
poured cornflakes into her bowl and started munching down on them in the interim.
"I do not approve of it," he declared.
Lily nodded, leaning back in her seat to give him her full attention.
"It is abnormal. It is ludicrous, and therefore offensive, destructive and dangerous. I will not-"
Lily stood up suddenly.
"Needs milk," she explained. "Go on."
"Right." He cleared his throat and turned to speak to Lily's turned back as she rummaged through
the fridge. "I will not allow it to be a part of my future. And, as I intend to marry your sister, it, and
by extension you, must be kept at arm's length going forward."
Lily said nothing.
"I have a bright future ahead of me. I'll be very prestigious in the drill manufacturing industry, and
by the time I'm thirty I'll be slightly richer than any average working class man, I assure you. I'll
have a nice property in a respectable neighborhood, and start an upright and virtuous family with
Petunia. Unextraordinary. Normal. And your… your antics will not be conducive to that sort of
lifestyle for us. So- So we can't have you around us to ruin it. Petunia agrees. We will not have a
freak around."
Lily kept her face planted in the fridge. It was funny, she thought.
There was a tear running down her cheek, its descent slowing as the blast of cold air from the
fridge tried to freeze it there. Let it, she thought. Then she wouldn't need more tears. That one
would do just fine, a permanent part of her.
Right then at least, if a tad bit melodramatic, she rather liked that metaphor.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
She hesitated at Petunia's closed door. Her suitcase was at the bottom of the stairs, and she was all
ready to go.
Lily sighed, heavy and long. She wanted to close her eyes, if only for a moment. But she couldn't -
wouldn't. Every time she did, another image from the night returned to her. Petunia, slaughtered
on the street. Her parents, screaming behind a closed door. Blood on the ground, blood on her
hands, blood on the walls. The empty eyes of her friends staring up at her. Albus Dumbledore
collapsing on the ground in front of her, his head severed. And it was her fault. They'd be safer
without her around, they all would.
M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D
Lily snapped herself out of it.
She opened Petunia's door and entered the room, refusing to convince herself otherwise.
Petunia looked up from a glossy magazine. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"
Lily ignored that. "I just spoke with Vernon before he left."
"Oh." Petunia watched Lily for a moment, and then put the magazine aside and folded her hands in
her lap, looking Lily hard in the eye. "And?"
"And?! And, it's completely bloody stupid, that's what-"
"Whatever Vernon said, I am fully on board with," her sister said clearly, staring Lily down. "He
put no words in my mouth. It's not like I haven't been saying much the same to you for years now."
Lily blinked fast. "I… I just assumed you would, I don't know, grow out of it. Grow out of saying
you want nothing to do with me, and one day we could be-"
"Friends?"
"Sisters!"
Petunia didn't seem to have a response to that.

Lily took a breath and leaned against the door frame lightly. "Do you remember when we were
little, and we'd talk about the future? About each of our kids playing in the backyard while we had
tea and watched them from the kitchen? Our daughters would play dress-up while our sons wrestle
on the grass-"
"And you would lecture our daughters that they can wrestle too, and do it better than the boys,"
Petunia snorted, looking somewhere Lily couldn't see and smiling.
"Because they can!"
Petunia laughed, and met Lily's eye with a smile on her face. Then, just as quickly as it came, the
smile faded.
"It can't happen, Lily."
"It can. It all can!"
"Well it won't."
"Why?" Lily demanded.
Petunia took a few seconds to answer, and Lily got the feeling the answer satisfied her just as little
as her sister. "Because that's just the way it has to be."
James was watching her face carefully as she finished the story, and she was thankful to him that
he hadn't interrupted at any point.
They stood on the rain-washed road outside Hogsmeade Station, watching as the next horseless
stagecoach pulled up for them to clamber on. A few Second Years climbed on after them, glancing
at the two Sixth Years, almost awe-struck.
Lily could only assume Alice, Marlene, and the Marauders were well on their way to the castle by
now, with her and James having dawdled on the train as she talked, and trudged together slowly
over to the carriages.
She sat close next to James, making room for the Second Years. He was still watching her intently,
and she met his gaze, waiting for his take on her story.
"It isn't the fact that she doesn't want you around that bothers you most, is it?" he asked eventually.
Lily was always taken aback when he displayed his more observant and shrewd qualities.
"No," she agreed softly. "It's the possibility that she might be right. She'll be better off without me
around. Safer."
She looked away from him, down at her hands. He took a few seconds to respond. When he did, as
always, it surprised her.
"Yeah," he said. "She'll definitely be safer if you're not around her. A lot of people will probably be
really hurt, or in danger, just because you're in their life."
She turned to look at him, a tear almost threatening to break again, not sure if this was his idea of a
joke. She was in an uncharacteristically fragile mindset today, and this was the last thing she
needed.
"The closer a Muggleborn like you gets to someone, the more likely they are to be tortured, injured
or killed."
Her image of the world starting to splinter, vulnerability creeping into her expression, she nodded.
If this was how James Potter felt, what hope did she have?
"Okay."
"But," he continued, "everyone who is close to you is there because they want to be. Because
you're worth it to them. No, I won't lie to you and say your sister will be perfectly safe as an active
part of your life. She'll be much safer being far away from you. But if she thinks that is worth not
being around you, she's barmy. And you can make do without her."
He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and shook her.
"There are countless people who will stand right by your side, knowing the risk, and stare down
the wands of a thousand Death Eaters. Because to them, you're worth it. It's up to you whether or
not you let them do that, but if you want my advice, I think you should let them. If they want to die
for you, let them, because there's nowhere else they'd rather be. The people who do that for you are
the ones that make life worth living - why force yourself to push them away?"
Lily hung loose in his grip, feeling like she might fly away with the weakest gust of wind if he
wasn't holding on. She knew this was weak, and on any other day she would have scorned herself
for being so pathetic. But today was different.
"But if I let them die," she whispered, "I'll have to live without them anyway. And it will be my
own fault."
"No," he said loudly, bringing her closer and forcing her to look him in the eye. "It will be their
fault for deciding you're worth it, for knowing you're worth it, and Voldemort's fault for being a
prick."
Lily smiled faintly. The Second Years stared at James, wide-eyed and mouths agape.
"Let those people in, Evans. There are so many of them."
She felt the strength return to her mind and body at the same time as she noticed just how close his
face was to hers.
"Oh? Like who?" She was close enough to see every speck of color surrounding the pupils of his
eyes by the moonlight.
"Well, I heard Jeronimo is particularly partial to you-"
"Oh, shut up," she laughed, elbowing him in the side and squirming out of his grip.
"It's true Evans, he has a bit of an obsession."
"With who? Himself?"
"Among others, yes. He has a healthy dose of self-assurance."
"Oh, healthy?"
"Yes, Evans. Healthy. In fact, let me tell you a story…"

And so they talked, in much the safe fashion, for the rest of the moon-lit carriage ride to Hogwarts,
over the walk to the Great Hall, and even right through the Sorting.
It wasn't until she watched him tuck into a glistening drumstick of roast chicken that a thought
occurred to her.
"Oi, you still haven't explained what those notes were. The ones you were looking at really
intensely on the train."
"Ah, you mean before you came in to harass me?"
"Before I came in to make your day, yes."
James put the now meatless bone down and piled a few more onto his plate. "Quidditch notes. I
have a lot of work to do."
She narrowed her eyes. "Sirius was being all mysterious about you supposedly having big plans,
and 'a lot on your plate' this year."
James rolled his eyes. "No, they really were just Quidditch notes. But I do have big plans this year.
Nothing mysterious about them, but that's Sirius for you. And as for my plate," they both looked
down, "...it tends to fill up quite quickly."
She stayed persistent. "If your plans aren't mysterious, then what are they?"
"First, let's settle another matter. A party is happening tonight. So, when I do bring alcohol in, with
or without your permission, what can I expect from you?"
She pretended to deliberate this for a moment. "How about I turn a blind eye and only give
you one detention?"
He grinned. "I'll take whatever mercy I get."
James looked over his Quidditch notes at his desk one last time before the Marauders would head
down to Hogsmeade for the alcohol.
"They're clearly chummy, Moony," Sirius was saying from behind him. "Prongs should just ask her
out now."
"He has to learn to be her friend before they can enter a relationship," Remus argued. "Regardless
of how 'close' they were sitting at dinner. She only just stopped hating him!"
Sirius scoffed. "I don't think she ever really hated him. Remember how she used to look at him,
even back then?"
"Regardless," Remus pressed, "they've reached a good place now. Let that be what it is, I say. Why
rush?"
"I agree with Remus," Peter piped up.
James tried to drown out their voices with limited success. "Shut up," he mumbled to no one in
particular.
There were three empty spots on the team, so he'd have to arrange try-outs as soon as possible. It
had been funny during the meeting on the train to have Frank Longbottom, Keeper and now Head
Boy, answer to James. It had been perfectly expected last year when James was made Captain
instead of Frank. He was glad to see that even after Frank's new appointment, the team dynamic
hadn't changed at all. Though he hadn't been too worried about it.
James folded the notes up once more and placed them in a drawer. Quidditch was the least of his
concerns now.
"But something has obviously changed between them," Sirius persisted. "Prongs would be an idiot
not to make the most of it!"
"I agree with Sirius," Peter flipped, predictably.
All James knew for sure was that a lot of change was on the horizon, both for himself and the
school. He, certainly, was ready for it. As for the school, well, he would just have to wait and see.
James grinned as he draped the Invisibility cloak over the four of them and they headed out.
A Fight is a Dance
"-because honestly, who even still supports the Tornados anyway? So I told him, I said-"
For James, one of the few drawbacks to his popularity was how much it tended to get in his way.
"-and you must come to my father's beach house this Christmas James, it's to die for-"
His attention was always in such high demand, it was exhausting. He'd made the mistake of
dawdling at the drinks table too long, and the masses had seized the opportunity to trap him in a
seemingly inescapable vortex of dull conversation.
"-but it's like I always say, good things come to those who invest in property!"
Tinkling laughter came from the small mob surrounding James consisting of breathy, awe-inspired
Second Year boys, blushy, eyelash-fluttering Fifth or Sixth Year girls, and a few stragglers who
seemed to just like being part of a crowd. All of them talked at the same time, so James couldn't
say who or what they were laughing at really.
They all seemed to be waiting for and expecting him to do or say something extravagant - to bring
the party from a fun time to a crazy time. Normally James would be more than happy to fill that
role, as he so often found himself doing, but this time he had other priorities.
He looked across the Common Room and saw Lily in a corner of the room, talking in hushed tones
with Marlene and Alice, a drink in her hand. He needed a way to get away from the crowd -
something exciting that would capture their attention.
Then Sirius came down the stairs to the boys' dormitory, stumbling and staggering, clearly already
piss drunk.
James watched his best mate pull his shirt off, wave it in the air, and then in a drunken slur yell
something about dragons to the room at large.
Everyone cheered.
"So you like him again?"
"What do you mean 'again'?" Lily protested, being sure to keep her voice down. She looked over
Marlene and Alice's heads and watched James stand by the drinks table, entertaining a large crowd
of his fans. She could bet the conceited prat was just loving that. "I never liked him in the first
place."
Marlene scoffed. "Oh please Lily, we saw the way you used to look at him back then."
"Back when?"
"You know, before he and Snape started bloody flirting with one another."
"Potter bullied him Mar," Lily said in a low tone. "Call it what it was."
"Way too much underwear stealing involved for that to not be called flirting," Marlene said under
her breath.
"What Marlene means," Alice picked up, "is that before the little spat between the two of them
got really serious, we used to notice a few… looks that you would send his way. There was surely
something there, at least back in, say, Third Year or so. Right Mar?"
Marlene nodded.
"There were no 'looks'. And that was a long time ago anyway," Lily said resolutely. "He was a
bully and I couldn't stand him."
Marlene twigged on to her wording. "You're right, Lily. That was a long time ago. You certainly
don't seem to think he's that much of a bully now, do you?"
Lily very much wanted to get away from this conversation. And, with another innocent glance
towards the drinks table, she saw where she would much rather be at that moment.
If only she could get away from these two first.
Then Sirius Black took his shirt off on the other side of the room, and Marlene and Alice's ogling
eyes were drawn away from Lily.
Thank Merlin for alcohol.
And, with alcohol in mind, Lily quietly withdrew from her friends and wandered over to the drinks
table. It was laden with alcohol that had somehow been smuggled into the castle from Hogsmeade
by a group of ruckus boys, decidedly against her advisement.
She leaned forward to whisper deviously into the ear of one of those boys.
"I believe I owe someone a detention."
Caradoc Dearborn held his head high and tried to act like he felt right at home in an underground
complex filled with Death Eaters.
Ferox Goodman walked by his side, a handsome man who strode with the air of someone who
always had a place to be and not enough time to reach it.
The two young men were aurors, and had known each other for a few months now. Ferox had
become an auror only half a year or so after Caradoc, and they had risen in the ranks together over
the last few months thanks to their partnership-of-sorts.
Not that they were here on actual auror business, though. No, strictly speaking Law Enforcement at
the Ministry wasn't currently investigating the Death Eaters at all.
So when Caradoc and Ferox were asked by Albus Dumbledore himself to infiltrate the Death
Eaters as spies, it had really been a very simple decision-making process.
And so here they were.
"You're walking like an auror," Ferox criticized. "Too stiff."
"We're supposed to walk like aurors you idiot. They know we're aurors. It's the whole reason they
want us on their side in the first place."
"Yes but we're bad aurors. Bad aurors walk differently."

Caradoc sighed. "We're walking the exact same way."
"No. You're just ambling along like you don't know what you're doing. I do. So I'm strutting."
"Shut up."
"I will not-"
"Shut up, we're here."
They turned the corner and the corridor opened up into a wide, expansive room filled with masked
figures in black robes, waiting for them. Each masked head turned to look at them as they entered
the dark room.
"Hello there," Ferox said cheerfully. "How do you do?"
"Shut up," said one of the Death Eaters near the center.
Ferox complied.
"We have been instructed," said another Death Eater to the left of the first one in a silky voice, "to
evaluate the two of you. To check how trustworthy you are."
Caradoc stepped forward. "You talk of trust, yet you keep your masks on. Has the information we
have already provided you with regarding the auror department not been enough?"
The eyes behind the mask watched him for a moment, almost calculatively, before the silky voice
came again. "You are right, of course. I do this, then, as a show of faith."
A hand slid out of the black sleeve of the Death Eater's robe, rose to the mask and gripped the
edges, coming down again with the mask held lightly between thin fingers.
Rodolphus Lestrange had high cheekbones, an angular jaw, and black eyes that bore into Caradoc's
like a drill.
Caradoc worked to keep the surprise off his face. Already, he and Ferox could walk out of here and
report to Dumbledore with enough information on the Death Eaters' business to change the tide of
the war. This was proving to be quite fruitful.
"Now, Caradoc. Your wand, please." Rodolphus extended his hand, waiting. "You too, Ferox."
Caradoc pretended to look surprised. "You already know our names."
Rodolphous rolled his eyes and gave him a patronizing look. "Of course we do. Since we came into
contact with you, we've had people following your every move. Recruiting two aurors is a big risk,
after all."
Caradoc had twigged onto this quite quickly, of course. He'd almost attacked the Death Eater
following him once he'd noticed, but stopped himself in time.
"Impressive," he said at last.
He drew his wand and handed it to Rodolphus. Beside him, Ferox hesitated.
"Why do you need our wands?"

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow. "You are aurors. We take no risks."
"What threat could the two of us be? There's what, fifteen of you? Just let us keep them."
Rodolphus' eyes flashed. "You do not seem to realize who you are speaking to with that tone."
"Give him your wand, Ferox," Caradoc muttered.
"We're not one of your Death Eaters. We don't answer to you." Ferox took a step closer to
Rodolphus. Every Death Eater in the room raised their wands at him in an instant. Ferox took no
notice, squaring up to the only unmasked face, almost nose to nose. "You can't boss us around."
"Is that right?" Rodolphus almost whispered.
"Ferox, shut up and do what he says right now." Caradoc reached out to pull Ferox back.
Rodolphus lifted his wand as quick as a flash and Caradoc, to his great surprise, found himself
propelled back into the wall before he knew it. Restraints materialized, fixing his arms and legs in
place.
"Ferox knows what he's doing, Caradoc," Rodolphus said softly. "You can't stop him. He's going to
show us all who's really in charge, isn't that right Ferox?"
Ferox opened his mouth wide to respond, but got smacked to the ground before he could. It wasn't
by Rodolphus.
A great, hulking Death Eater had stepped forward from Rodolphus' side and stood above Ferox. It
had to be one of the largest people Caradoc had ever seen, standing almost as tall as Hagrid, the
Hogwarts groundskeeper, and just as wide. A beefy hand the size of a frying pan reached up and
pulled off the mask, revealing a beefy face the size of a beach ball. The big man smiled a sinister,
crooked-toothed smile that reached up to his beady eyes.
Ferox groaned on the ground, rubbing his jaw.
Rodolphus' smile grew wide, and he stepped back to the far wall. All the other Death Eaters in the
room followed suit, creating a wide, open space in the center of the room large enough to be a
wrestling ring, just for Ferox and the great brute.
"Ferox, I'd like you to meet Koshulynsky. We brought him from Ukraine, and he
handles… discipline, among other things for us."
Ferox got to his feet. Koshulynsky watched him, not making a move.
"You think I can't beat the snot out of him?" Ferox called to Rodolphus, a confident grin on his
face. He took a step back and pulled his wand out, taking a moment to size his opponent up.
Rodolphus seemed amused. "I'd certainly love to see you try."
Ferox locked eyes with the brute, not moving a muscle. Koshulynsky waited, still grinning his
dumb grin.
"Go on, then. Attack him," Rodolphous goaded.
"Ferox, give Rodolphus your damn wand and back down," Caradoc said, not knowing why he was
even bothering.
The pause that followed was long enough that Carodoc thought Ferox might have actually come to
his senses. Just when he began to feel relieved, his friend struck.
"Stupefy!"
The spell thudded uselessly into Koshulynsky's chest. Now, Koshulynsky walked forwards, closing
the small space Ferox had built between them dangerously quickly.
"Impedimenta!"
Koshulynsky froze for one brief, hopeful moment, before he started moving again, slowly at first
but quickly returning to his initial pace.
"Incarcerous!"
Ropes bound Koshulynsky for half a second before snapping.
"Incendio!"
The smallest of flames began to erupt from Ferox's wand before Koshulynsky, the distance
between them now fully closed, grabbed the end of the wand even as fire gushed out and he
squeezed, snapping it in half.
The Death Eaters all laughed.
"I hope that teaches you a less-" Rodolphus began to say.
Ferox dropped the broken wand and jabbed at the big man's chin, having to reach way up. The shot
had no juice and bounced off uselessly. Koshulynsky grinned.
"Ferox," Caradoc groaned.
Ferox still wasn't fazed, ducking under his opponent's attempt to grab his arm and sending a right
hook to the diaphragm followed by an elbow to the ribcage. These also seemed to have no effect.
He jumped back as another grab was made for him. The Ukranian strode forwards, boxing Ferox
into a corner of the room, pushing him closer to the Death Eaters lining the wall who all quickly
shuffled out of the way.
Before his back hit the wall, Ferox dived forwards, rolling between Koshulynsky's legs and, when
he emerged behind his opponent he fired a kick to the groin. Koshulynsky caught the kick between
his legs just before it hit the target and stepped over Ferox's outstretched leg as he turned around.
He pulled the leg towards him with one hand and Ferox's eyes widened as the other giant hand
rushed towards his face.
Ferox's head rolled back as the fist connected with his jaw and he flew some feet into the air before
he hit the ground. For a few moments he didn't move. When he did, it was to lift his head off the
ground and spit teeth out. A front tooth apiece, from his lower and upper rows each, was missing in
his wry smile, as well as his lower left canine.
"Stay down," Rodolphus warned.
Ferox groaned. He spat out a bit more blood and leaned a hand on the ground to steady himself.
"Stay down, Ferox," Caradoc called, desperation finding its way into his voice.
Ferox moved to a crouch first, and then slowly and painstakingly stood. He raised his fists and spat
more blood out. Didn't say anything.
Koshulynsky advanced again. Ferox weaved to the side, got behind the brute. He jumped onto his
back, wrapped his right arm around the Ukrainian's thick neck until he could latch onto his left
bicep and pushed with his left hand on the back of Koshulynsky's head.
Koshulynsky stumbled around for a few seconds, starting to gag, before he saw the easy way out
and fell backwards.
In slow motion Caradoc's eyes widened and a shout of warning came from his lips, but there was
nothing he could do.
Ferox disappeared between the ground and the body of the monstrous man, having only enough
time to scream before he was covered by the giant.
There was a pause, as everyone watched Koshulynsky lay on the ground for a moment. Caradoc
couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. The Ukrainian wiggled around on the ground with a
sadistic, playful grin on his face. Then he stood. Blood was on his back. On the ground was Ferox's
now mangled body.
Blood gushed. Bone protruded.
Ferox was still blinking up at the ceiling. Out of his broken jaw, an almost inaudible noise could be
heard, a whispering, wheezing breath.
There was silence in the room for a moment other than this sound.
"Well," said Rodolphus eventually, "this thing won't be much use to anyone now."
With a flash of green light, the noise stopped.
Caradoc still stared in disbelief at what was on the ground. Didn't notice Rodolphus striding
towards him until the man was right in front of his face.
"I'm going to enter your mind now," Rodolphus said quietly, no gloating or mocking tone to his
voice. "If I'm satisfied with what I find, I will release you, return your wand, and you will serve us.
If not… well, I'm sure you can imagine what's in store."
Caradoc didn't allow himself to process what he'd just seen. He scrambled internally to prepare his
mind for invasion even as he began to feel a niggling sensation in the back of his head.
He hated muggles. Disillusioned in the auror department and Ministry, Caradoc reached out to
Death Eaters to try and make a positive difference in the world. He convinced his friend Fer- No,
that person meant nothing. His death did not change Caradoc's resolve. His willingness to serve
remained absolute.
The niggling sensation stopped and Rodolphus stepped back, satisfied. The restraints on his arms
and legs disappeared, and Caradoc dropped from the wall to a crouch. His wand was handed back
to him. And, just like that, he was in.
It was only later, after he'd sat down with Rodolphus, after he'd passed on more of the fake
information Dumbledore had given him, once he'd found an empty corridor in this maze of
corridors under the ground, that he gave himself a moment.
Just a moment.
Then, with a deep and shuddering breath, he let that moment pass, and did his job.
"Expecto Patronum."
A ghostly white fox appeared in front of him. It sat back on his hindquarters and looked up at him
attentively.
A message to Albus Dumbledore, quick as it was concise. His tone was empty as he relayed the
news of Ferox's death.
"-so I'll have to remain here for a little longer before I'm cleared to go, but they suspect nothing. I'll
have a full report for you once I manage to get out."
He ended the charm and the white fox bolted off, fading into nothingness as it leapt into the air.
Then, Caradoc turned to walk back the way he'd come, and was met with a sight that stopped him
in his tracks. Standing down the end of the corridor was Koshulynksy. The big man took up the
entire width of the corridor, and was easily within earshot.
"I don't suppose you speak a lot of English, by any chance? You hear any of that, big guy?"
Koshulynsky flexed his fingers before curling his hands into fists, and strode forward the same
way he had when fighting Ferox. Before he killed Ferox.
Caradoc licked his lips, sizing the big man up. Then, he dashed towards him, pointing his wand not
at the man but at the ground beneath Koshulynsky's feet. That ground changed consistency, turning
into a mushy, muddy version of what had previously been wooden floorboards. The brute started
slipping and sliding along the floor towards Caradoc. When they were close enough, Caradoc leapt
into the air, bringing both legs up to his chest while Koshulynky tried to regain balance and, as
Caradoc fell towards the behemoth, he kicked his legs out at Koshulynky's knee. With a jolt, the
kneecap shattered as it took the monster's weight at the wrong angle, and Koshulynsky let out a
deep, gravelly shout of pain.
Caradoc landed on his back and rolled to his feet, before launching himself up into the air again as
Koshulynsky balanced on one leg and clutched at his knee.
Caradoc brought up his open palm, curled his fingers back, and hit the monster in the fleshy part of
the throat with the base of his wrist. The throat gave way under pressure and, together with
Caradoc's momentum, made Koshulynsky tilt backwards on one leg before falling to the ground
head first. The giant landed on his back with a resounding thud, Caradoc on top of him.
Breathing heavily, Koshulynsky blinked up at him and opened his m-
Wham.
A punch to the face and the beast's nose was broken.
Wham.
Another punch and Koshulynsky's eyes rolled back into his head.
Wham.
The fight was over. Ferox's crushed body stayed fixed in Caradoc's mind. The lack of mercy his
opponent had had.
Wham.
He didn't feel better.
Wham.
He wouldn't feel better.
Wham.
At least, not yet. This wasn't enough.
Caradoc reached for his wand and pressed it against the forehead of the hulking man. He panted,
channelling his hate and loss and pain. He looked into the face of the man who had taken pleasure
in killing his friend, the man who likely would have done the same to him.
The simple spell was on his lips. It would be so easy to do it. And it would make him feel better…
Except it wouldn't. And Caradoc knew that.
"Obliviate," he said.
Koshulynsky walked down the empty corridor. Nothing to see. Slipped, twisted knee, fell on face,
blacked out.
Weary, Caradoc got up. Koshulynsky looked rather peaceful to him, spread-eagled on the ground
as though trying to make a snow angel on the re-hardened floorboards. Caradoc walked down the
corridor, brushing himself off.
Infiltration successful.
The Gryffindor Common Room, even in the earliest hours of the morning, was not empty.
Moonlight left over from the night flooded in through the windows, shining on the unconscious
forms of teens who would certainly not be in any state for classes in the morning, slumped on the
ground or over tables or on the couches. Plastic red cups littered the floor, spilt firewhisky pooled
by fallen bottles and stained the rugs and carpets, and all the lights had long since been
extinguished.
Or at least, almost all the lights. The fireplace still crackled, very much lit.
If one looked in through the window, they would see two silhouettes by the fireplace, swaying to
and fro. If one opened the window, they would hear music, coming from a battered record player
sitting on the floor. It was a song by The Imperios, frowned upon by many older folk for its vulgar
implications and at times jarring, raw sound. Admittedly, it was not an easy song to dance to. Its
rhythm was wild, and its tempo inconsistent.
This didn't seem to faze the figures by the fireplace though, as they swayed to a rhythm that was
very much their own.
If one climbed in through the window and stepped a little closer, they would see the figures more
clearly. His messy black hair met by her fiery red locks would compliment each other rather aptly
in this picturesque scene by the fireplace.
He would spin her out, and she'd laugh before he reeled her back in quickly, meeting her close in
the middle. She, laughing harder then, would spin him out and reel him back in, making him twirl
very delicately, comically. He would guffaw. She would snort in between giggles.
Then, they would meet in the middle again, and the silhouettes would grow closer, almost one.
Another step towards them and one would see arms curled around necks, foreheads resting against
one another, noses almost brushing.
And small, peaceful smiles on both faces.

Fanning the Flames
The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Anton Windstrum, was handsome.
Marlene was more than willing to admit that much. Clearly, she noted, her fellow female
classmates had reached the same conclusion, if their sudden attentiveness and bright-eyed gazes
were anything to go by.
Alice, sitting to Marlene's left, fanned herself with a fluttering hand and looked sideways at
Marlene, flushing. "Dumbledore has fantastic taste."
Marlene snorted, hiding her face in her hands to muffle herself.
Professor Windstrum strode to the front of the class as all eyes locked on to him, and he introduced
himself in a charming, likeable sort of way.
Marlene had stopped paying attention by that point. She only dimly registered the new teacher and
James Potter entering into some sort of back-and-forth rhetoric that had the rest of the class
chuckling and smiling. Potter seemed to respect the teacher, given that the two weren't yet on poor
terms.
Marlene's inattentiveness was not of her own free will. Rather, the person sitting to her right was
being somewhat of a pain.
"McKinnon," Sirius Black hissed, nudging her arm.
She ignored him, trying to pay attention to the new teacher.
"McKinnon, it's urgent!"
She sighed and looked at him. "What?"
He grinned devilishly as he leaned in. "There's an empty classroom down the corridor from here."
She stared. "How in the world is that urgent? What part of an empty room makes you think 'Oh
wow, I can't wait to tell someone about this', Black?"
He rolled his eyes and leaned closer. "It's not so much the fact that the room's empty, as much as
the implications of what can be done in it."
"Like what?" Marlene raised an eyebrow.
"Like… well, like hooking up," Sirius said, his exasperated expression indicating he thought it had
been obvious.
"Wait," Marlene held up her hand, just putting it together, "you mean with me?"
Sirius looked a little confused. "Well, yeah. We had a connection back in Diagon Alley, didn't we?
I mean, we've been flirting non-stop for days now."
She processed this for a moment. He seemed to be waiting for her to agree.
"Well," she said, "this is awkward."
"What?"
"I thought we were just friends."
Sirius' mouth opened and closed. It was a second or two before he spoke again. "But… in Diagon
Alley-"
"I healed you."
"You took my shirt off!"
"To heal you."
Sirius looked more confused now, and didn't seem to know what to make of this.
"You're welcome," Marlene added as an afterthought.
"Yeah," he said after a moment, in a distant voice. "Thanks."
They both watched Professor Windstrum write something on the blackboard for a few seconds
before Marlene felt the urge to test the water.
"You're fine with just being friends, right?"
Sirius looked pained. "I guess."
"Good."
Marlene faced the front again, ready to work.
"It's just," Sirius continued, "I thought there was room for us to be more than-"
"There definitely isn't, " Marlene said promptly.
"Right. But don't you think-"
"Nope. Just friends."
Sirius Black seemed unfamiliar with rejection. His face didn't crumple or anything pathetic like
that, but instead it froze with a faded smile fixed in place.
"You won't be weird about this, will you?" she pressed.
"Nope," he said between clenched teeth.
Marlene rolled her eyes. "We'll work on that."
"I hear the students have taken quite a liking to you," Professor Dumbledore said, surveying Anton
Windstrum from over his lowered half-moon spectacles.
Friday evening found the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in the Headmaster's study,
settled into a chair and sipping tea.
"I noticed," Anton said with a wry smile. "Some of them have taken to following me around the
castle. Normally I don't mind it, but it does get exhausting. I've taken to hiding in empty classrooms
just to hear myself think - works for the most part, but a bit awkward when a couple bursts in."
Dumbledore smiled. "It hasn't been too long since you were one of those students traipsing about
the castle with ill intentions, if memory serves right."
"I guess so," Anton said with a snort, staring out the window and sipping his tea.
He waited for Dumbledore to address why he had really summoned him, aside from tea and a
catch-up.
"I recall that you and Caradoc Dearborn were good friends, in your time as Hogwarts students,"
said the Headmaster.
"Of course," said Anton. "Haven't seen him since I got back to this continent last week, but I
probably will soon."
"Sooner than you might think," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. "I have sent Caradoc to spy on
the Death Eaters."
Anton's eyes widened, and he looked at Dumbledore in shock.
"He has infiltrated them successfully, but lost the partner I sent him with in the process. I need you
to-"
"Why are you telling me this?" Anton exclaimed. "Just hold on a minute! What if I'm a spy?"
Dumbledore considered this for barely a second. "Are you a spy?"
"No."
"Splendid. Now I need you to serve as the middle-man between Caradoc and myself. I should have
as little direct contact with him as possible while he is undercover. This is why I approached you
for the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, your natural proficiency for defensive magic
aside. I'll need you to assist and coordinate with Caradoc, as and when necessary, and report back
to me. Naturally, this task must be prioritized after your duties as a Professor at this school, but I
am sure that you're up for the challenge. Provided, of course, that you are up for it."
He stopped, and waited for Anton to respond.
Anton stared at him for a few seconds, taking a moment to let this news settle.
Dumbledore saw fit to prompt him. "Can I count on you, Anton?"
It was another few seconds before Anton even registered that he needed to respond. He stared for a
moment longer, then shook his head a little and laughed in wonder.
"Well, yeah," he said. "Obviously."
Lily was still in bed on Saturday morning, staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought in her empty
dormitory.
James Potter, she realized, had changed.
She wasn't exactly sure when or why it happened, and she couldn't even really say what it was
that had changed. It was something subtle. Something at his foundations had changed in the most
minute way, causing everything above to somehow shift and become… better.
"I like him," she said aloud.
Odd. That wasn't nearly as painful to say as she'd thought it would be.
The roof wasn't caving in, the world wasn't ending, and she wasn't even sure that if she walked to
the window and looked out, she would see pigs flying.
It was just a normal statement. Completely mundane, and altogether trivial.
She liked James Potter.
But what did that mean? Did she like him romantically, or did she like him the same way she liked
french toast?
"I enjoy being around him," she tried.
She let the statement hang in the air for a moment, and decided that it was the truth.
"He's attractive," she continued.
She didn't feel weird admitting that, though she would certainly never repeat it. He wore his messy-
rascal look well, and she could see how one might find that endearing. If one were so inclined. And
as of late, she conceded grudgingly, perhaps she had been inclined.
"But he's still an arrogant toerag," she concluded.
Granted, she figured he wasn't as much of a bully as he used to be, but he hadn't seemed to shake
off all his other questionable traits just yet. The arrogance, the stubbornness, and the steadfast
refusal to follow the rules were all still very much there.
So then where did that leave them? Rather, her opinion of him? How did she feel about him?
She decided, rolling off her bed, that she couldn't quite be bothered figuring that out. It was too
much of a headache. The very idea of her and Potter being more than they had already quickly
become seemed like too much for her. She much preferred the idea of waiting, letting the
current… state of things settle in before even thinking about moving on to whatever came next.
She walked down into the Common Room and out through the portrait hole feeling quite happy
with where she'd landed on the matter, as she set about to look for her friends.
If James Potter continued his miraculous trend of self-improvement, then maybe she could
reconsider. He was, after all, quite fond of surprising her.
Severus loathed the company of idiots. They said things that irked him, and did things that
perplexed him, and altogether left him with a bad taste in his mouth.
"I want to kill some mudbloods."
Prentice Travers was one such idiot.
For a would-be bully who used intimidation as a crutch, he was not particularly intimidating. He
had a slight frame and a pointy face that really brought out the uninspired dimness in his eyes, and
he talked and walked with the air of someone who didn't seem to notice the looks of intense dislike
those around him would send his way. Like at this moment, for instance.
He stood beside Severus in the middle of a corridor on the third floor as they waited for Mulciber
to join them.
"Do you ever feel that way, Severus? When you just hate something so much you feel this intense
urge to be rid of it?"
Severus stared unblinkingly at him. "Yes."
"I thought you would. You and I are the same, really," Travers said, nodding to himself a little.
"Wouldn't you agree?"
"Like two peas in a pod," Severus said, not removing his gaze.
"Yeah. Like that."
Travers was quiet for a few moments then, and Severus slowly looked away.
"We're like the brains of this whole operation," Travers said, glancing at him. "Mulciber and the
others, they all know it. They answer to you because they respect you. So really they also answer
to me. Because we're so similar."
Severus regarded Travers with no expression on his face. "They answer to neither of us, only to the
Dark Lord. Those of us that he chose are to be his will at Hogwarts. There is no leader but him."
"Of course," said Travers, sounding somewhat impatient, "but amongst us, there has to be a leader.
And they always listen to what you have to say."
Severus' gaze bore into those pale, dim eyes. "That is because I speak only when I have something
of value to say. It is a trait that many people, myself included, hold in high regard."
"Yes," Travers nodded. "People also often tell me that I am like that. All the time."
Travers was saved from being the victim of an unfortunate accident, that no-one would be able to
trace back to Severus, by Mulciber finally rounding the corner and walking up towards them.
"You sure took your time," Travers sneered.
Mulciber ignored him and nodded to Severus. "Alright?"
Severus didn't bother nodding back. "What kept you?"
"Detention," he snorted. "Longbottom doesn't like my use of the word Mudblood, I think."
"There seems to be a lot of that going around these days," Severus said, keeping the wistful tone
from his voice. "Regardless, that's not what we're here for."
"Which raises the question, what are we here for?" Mulciber asked.
"Yeah," Travers piped up, clearly trying to contribute to the conversation. "Why are we here,
Severus?"
Severus looked only at Mulciber when he answered. "Our job is to find more students who will
join our cause. Our obstacle is any chance of a student reporting to Dumbledore what we tell them.
Secrecy, good judgement, and discretion, therefore, are imperative."
Travers frowned. "That doesn't explain why we're meeting here, in the middle of some random
corridor. Why not the Common Room?"
Severus didn't respond, merely stared at a spot on the wall that provided him patience.
Mulciber sighed. "He just said secrecy is important. We can't be overheard by any passers-by,
Slytherin or otherwise. We can't risk it."
"Right," Travers nodded, like he'd been the one who had said it. "As long as you know that,
Mulciber."
Severus decided that he didn't want to stick around these two for much longer. "Do your jobs. Be
discrete. We'll meet again in a week."
He turned and walked down the corridor, leaving them to their squabbling.
Secrecy, of late, was something Severus had been valuing much more highly than he once had. It
was what kept prying eyes far away from any secret meetings with his fellow Death Eaters. It was
what kept his fellow Death Eaters oblivious to the tentative rekindling of his friendship with Lily
Evans. And, most importantly, it was what kept Lily Evans from knowing that, presently, he was
still very much a part of the Death Eater presence in Hogwarts.
For her, he would have to maintain this secrecy. This chance, as slim and impossible as it was, to be
back in her good books needed to be preserved at all costs, at least until he could finally decide
where he stood between serving the Dark Lord and loving Lily Evans.
So, until then, Lily could not learn about his continued involvement with the likes of Travers and
Mulciber. He would have to make sure of that.
He turned a corner and bumped right into her.
"Hi," said Lily, stumbling, leaning a hand on the wall to regain her balance.
Severus didn't reach out to help her. She hated getting help from others.
She was looking at him, waiting for him to say something.
"Your cry of surprise, by default, is… hi," Severus stated, wanting to clarify.
"I'm friendly," she said defensively, crossing her arms.
He surveyed her, amused. "In that case," he said slowly, "hi."
She smiled. "Hi."
He stared at her for a few more moments.
Eventually, she cleared her throat. "I'll… well, I'll leave you to it then."
She made to walk past him - past him and right into the corridor with Travers and Mulciber.
"I've been meaning to talk to you," he blurted.
She paused and tilted her head curiously. "What about?"
He stared. "Potions."
"Potions?"
"Yes, potions."
She nodded slowly. "Anything about them in particular?"
"That-" he swallowed, "that Potions homework Slughorn gave us, it… uh, it sure is something else,
huh?"
Severus never talked like this and she knew it. And he knew she knew it. But what he didn't know
was whether or not she knew that he knew she knew it. She probably did though.
A warm, understanding smile spread across her face.
"Severus," she said, "are you asking if I'd like to study the Potions work with you?"
He nodded quickly. "Yes. That's exactly where I was going with that. Will you?"
She nodded back and laughed. "Of course. Let me go grab my stuff and I'll meet you in the library
in, say, fifteen minutes?"
Severus nodded again, feeling silly. "Great. Brilliant. See you then."
She turned and walked quickly back the way she'd come.
When she was out of sight, Severus let out a breath he definitely knew he'd been holding.
Very few people in the world could rob him of his meticulous, surgical precision with words. And
he would be spending his day studying with one of them.
The first true smile of the last few months spread across Severus' face.
James could feel Sirius glaring at him, but he didn't look.
"And you flick your wand like this," he said, demonstrating, "and then wave it again like so. Make
sure the waving is precise. Even a slight variation will lose you some marks."
The Fifth Years' heads went down as they wrote, some drawing a diagram of this specific hand-
waving motion.
"Your examiners will be looking for the second flick - most people forget it, focussing instead on
the wave. This spell, perfected, is the minimum requirement for Exceeds Expectations."
One of them, a Ravenclaw girl, raised her hand. "Does it contribute towards an Outstanding?"
"No," he said. "It's a given that you'll have it perfected for an Outstanding. Granted, they may ask
you to perform it under varying conditions, which in turn could delve into Outstanding territory.
It's not common, but they do that sometimes. I would just recommend practicing this spell as often
as you can, the same with the other spells."
She nodded and made a note of this.
"Alright," he said, clapping. "That's everything for now. I'll meet you lot same time next week. If
you have any questions, just give me a shout in the Great Hall or something. And make sure to
bring some friends along next time, too."
The assortment of these six Fifth Years set about packing up and leaving the library.
Madam Pince was glaring at James. He probably shouldn't have clapped, but it had felt right.
Sirius strolled up behind him. "I can't believe you."
"I am unbelievable," James nodded.
"All that talk of having 'big plans', and 'a lot on your plate', getting me all excited, and you really
just meant tutoring?"
"I said I have big plans once. Which I now regret."
"We're Marauders," Sirius grumbled. "We don't tutor, we prank."
James sighed. He looked across a few desks to where Remus was sat with some other Fifth Years,
talking about Potions. Peter sat next to him, nodding along like he knew it all.
"We're brilliant, Padfoot. We should share that brilliance with the rest of the school."
"Yeah," said Sirius, "with pranks. And funny jokes."
James looked at him and frowned. "When we talked about this the first time, you said you were on
board. You agreed that we can be better - that we can do better."
Sirius wrinkled his nose and clapped a hand on James' shoulder. "Of course I'm on board. I just
didn't think it would be quite so boring."
James laughed and smacked Sirius on the back of the head. "If it was interesting, we'd have been
doing it for years."
James glanced again at Remus and Peter, then turned to leave. The other two likely wouldn't finish
any time soon, they'd started well after him.
As he and Sirius left the hushed tones and stacked shelves of the library, Sirius looked at him
curiously.
James raised an eyebrow, prompting him.
"This whole 'be better' business," Sirius said, watching James closely, "it isn't just some dumb
attempt to impress Evans, is it?"
"No," James said honestly. "The thought occurred to me too, but I don't think it is."
"You don't think?"
"I don't know, Padfoot. I'm playing this whole thing by ear. Since my Dad's had one foot in the
grave, I've had to realign my priorities. I can't be a kid anymore." James looked at the floor as they
walked, thinking. "And as a by-product, I get to help people. Lead them. I don't know, something
about it all just feels right to me."
Sirius nodded, and then grinned. "And I suppose it doesn't hurt that it's helping you with Evans,
either."
James knew exactly what he meant. "What do you mean?" he asked anyway.
"In the past week, the two of you have gone from being mortal enemies to being quite good
friends. I have half a mind to be jealous, Prongs."
James laughed. "Yeah. It sure is unexpected, to tell you the truth. But I'm hardly going to
complain."
"How many times have you asked her out?"
"Guess."
"Ten?"
"No."
"Eleven?"
"No."
"Merlin's beard you sly dog. Twelve?" Sirius asked incredulously.
James punched him. "None, idiot."
Sirius rubbed his arm and stared. "None? Well what have you been doing the whole time, talking
about the weather?"
James shrugged. He didn't know how to explain it to his friend. "It's different now. I can feel it. It's
a good friendship."
"Yeah, and it would make a bloody good relationship, I should think."
James shook his head. "Every time I involve my feelings when it comes to her, historically, it goes
south."
"Well sure, in the past. But you two get along now. You've gotten all mature and boring for her.
How could you mess it up?"
"The thing is," James started, really at a loss for how to make it make sense, "we've gotten along
plenty of times before. That's not the hard part. It's keeping it that way, that's where I fail. And the
point at which it always falls apart is when I get caught up in my stupid feelings."
Sirius looked at him, unimpressed. "So you're just going to bottle it all up and be friends?"
"Exactly. And if I can get over her at some point and move on… then everyone wins."
Sirius stared at him for a second more before he looked away and grinned. "But you know that's
not what's going to happen."
"Most likely not."
"You're going to lose your patience."
"I have been known to do that."
"I give it a few more days until you ask her out."
"I wouldn't be surprised if it happened tomorrow," James grumbled. He knew he had come
dangerously close to making a move over the past week. "I guess I'll just have to work on trying to
stay away."
Sirius snorted. "I suppose I'll have to help you, then. I can imagine you'll need it."
"You will do no such thing," James said with stern glance at his friend. "In fact, involve yourself as
little as you possibly can."
Sirius held up his hands and laughed. "Alright, alright. You know you could really use my help,
though. I just have a way with words is all I'm saying."
James could only shake his head.
Then, down the end of the corridor, impossibly, unbelievably, appeared none other than Lily
Evans. She was hurrying in their direction and looked rushed.
"Hi James," she beamed when she saw him. She slowed down as she reached them.
"Hey," he said, smiling back as she stopped in front of them.
She turned to Sirius. "Black."
"Your Highness."
She rolled her eyes, smiled at James once more, then continued on her way.
When she was out of sight, James punched his friend on the arm. "Idiot."
Saturday night found Alice brushing her teeth, the same as any other night. Then she flossed,
rinsed, spat the fluoride, and gave her teeth another quick once over with the brush. Her dental care
routine was rigorous, but bore results. Her smile was radiant and blinding.
"Black offered to hook up with me," said Marlene.
"Oh," said Alice, splashing water onto her face.
"It was a couple days ago actually, but since I rejected him he hasn't been talking to me as much,"
she added.
"You rejected him?"
"Um, yeah."
Alice turned to give her a funny look. "Why?"
"I mean," Marlene frowned, "well, why wouldn't I? We're just friends."
Alice's eyes widened. "Oh. I thought you guys were together, to be honest."
"What?"
"I thought the two of you have been hooking up since Diagon Alley," she shrugged. "Just from the
signals I've picked up from you."
Marlene glared. "That's more or less what he said, too. Does everyone think Black and I have been
together this whole time?"
Lily walked into the dormitory then, carrying armfuls of parchment containing what looked like
their Potions homework. She looked rather pleased with herself.
"Lily," Marlene rounded on her, "what do you think of me and Black?"
Lily dumped the parchment on her bed and shrugged. "Cute couple, I guess."
Alice laughed, stuffed some things into a small overnight bag, and threw the strap over her
shoulder.
"Now where are you off to at this hour?" Marlene complained, hands on hips.
"Staying the night at Frank's," Alice called without turning. "Lily, cheer Mar up, will you?"
As she started walking down the stairs to the Common Room, she could faintly hear Marlene
interrogating the redhead. When she reached the Common Room, she turned and bounded up the
stairs to the boy's dormitory, her bare feet slapping a quick rhythm onto the wood.
The Seventh Year boys each had the curtains of their four-poster-beds drawn when she reached the
dormitory, and she tip-toed her way through strewn clothes and discarded junk on the way to
Frank's bed.
She parted the curtains and slipped through, dumping her bag by the side of the bed.
He was already asleep, the lazy sod. His blonde hair was ruffled, his lips parted slightly, and his
closed eyes were closed. Well, not for long.
She crawled under the blankets and sidled up to him, then jabbed him in the ribs. Hard.
He woke with a start.
"You went to sleep without me," she accused.
He looked round at her, then rolled his eyes and released a breath.
"Hello to you, too," he said, lying back down and wrapping an arm around her.
"Goodnight, more like," she said with narrowed eyes, nestling her head in the crook of his arm and
resting a hand on his chest. She felt it rise and fall and she splayed her fingers.
"Good day?" he asked.
"It was alright, I guess. Oh hey, Marlene's going to try-out for Gryffindor tomorrow." She watched
him raise an eyebrow.
"She plays Quidditch?"
Alice nodded. "And she's really good, so you better make sure James picks her."
Frank laughed. "If she's good enough, I'm sure he will."
"And if she's not?"

He snorted. "I wouldn't dare undermine James' authority. Especially now that I'm Head Boy. He'll
probably see it as a personal attack and throw a tantrum."
"I think it's kind of cute when he does all that," Alice said with a smile. "I've always found his
juvenile side oddly attractive. I wonder what that says about me..."
Frank looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Really? You think he's cute?"
"Yeah," she shrugged. "Of course. Have you seen the bugger?"
A grudging nod from Frank. "Yes, I suppose I have." He was quiet for a few moments before he
spoke up again. "So who else do you think is cute?"
Alice thought about it for a second. "Ben Watts is quite dashing. Travis Powell from Hufflepuff
seems like a decent candidate too."
"Candidate for what?"
"To date of course. I need to get back out there!" Then she frowned. "Or at least, I need to get out
there. I don't know if I was ever really there. I haven't dated since Third Year, and that hardly
counts."
"Oscar Price," Frank grumbled.
"Oscar Price," Alice agreed. "The bastard."
"I warned you about him."
"You did, you did. And you also made sure to rub it in my face endlessly afterwards. And when
you say you 'warned' me, it really just consists of you saying don't do it, he's a Slytherin.
Disappointingly close-minded, Mr Head Boy."
Frank scowled. "I have no problem with Slytherins."
"Really?"
"I just have a problem with you dating Slytherins."
She gave a tinkling laugh.
"Shut up," groaned one of Frank's mates from elsewhere in the room.
"Sorry," Alice called back.
They went quiet. Alice closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose on his arm like it was a pillow.
"That tickles," he mumbled.
"Your arm is comfy."
"You say that every time."
"Because it's always comfy."
They were quiet for another few seconds before he whispered again, "I bet Ben Watts and Travis
Powell don't have comfy arms."
She snorted. "Sure Longbottom, your arm reigns supreme. But it's not like I can date you, can I?"
There was something in his voice now that she couldn't quite place, or perhaps she was too tired to
recognize it. "Why?"
"Why what?"
He hesitated. Or maybe he just forgot what he was going to say. She couldn't tell. "Never mind."
Just about asleep and not really paying attention anyway, she gave the smallest of nods. "'Kay."
Breakfast was Severus' least favorite meal of the day. He couldn't properly place why, but he found
something infuriatingly obnoxious about the style of the food. From kippers to toast, eggs to bacon.
It all just seemed so insufferably cheerful.
Be that as it may though, when Severus sat down for breakfast that Sunday morning, he found that
he didn't much mind.
He loaded kippers onto his plate, spread eggs across his toast, and even dabbled in a fair few slices
of bacon. He was, if he even dared to say so, rather jolly.
And why shouldn't he be?
He had spent his entire Saturday in the library with Lily, pouring over Potions notes, collaborating
with his only equal in the subject, talking to her, looking at her, simply spending time with the only
person in his life who made him happy.
He was in quite the breakfasting mood.
"Hey," said Evan Rosier from next to him, "watch me jinx that Mudblood at the Hufflepuff table."
Rosier was in quite the halfwit mood. Which he was entirely entitled to, Severus supposed.
"Look at her! Her hair changed colors and she hasn't even noticed!"
"Very good, Rosier," Severus said, helping himself to more toast.
While Rosier sniggered to himself, Severus swept his gaze over the rest of the Great Hall. A few
stragglers were only just making their way in for breakfast, stretching and yawning as they entered.
"Which Mudblood should I play with next?" Rosier asked thoughtfully, more to himself than
anything.
Severus didn't answer. Lily Evans had just entered the Great Hall. She was accompanied by her
friend, McKinnon, and laughing about something. As much as Severus enjoyed seeing her
laughing, he tensed, chancing a glance at Rosier.
But Rosier had set his sights elsewhere along the Gryffindor table, at some Fourth Year girl, and
Severus relaxed.
He went back to watching Lily. She was looking ahead, and he followed her gaze and narrowed his
eyes. She was walking towards Potter, who stood looking deep in conversation with Frank
Longbottom, close to where the rest of their friends were sitting and eating.
She stumbled as she approached him, and he looked around in time to reach out and catch her. His
hands were on her hips, steadying her, and lingered a moment longer than necessary.
Severus waited for her to scold him. She hated getting help. She hated getting help.
She smiled at him and said something. He laughed and said something back. Then she laughed too,
said another thing, touched his arm, and walked on to where McKinnon had joined Alice Prewett
at the table.
Severus frowned and looked away.
His gaze fell to the girl Rosier was jinxing. He took no pleasure in seeing Rosier's twisted idea of
fun, but nor did he care much. As long as it kept the nutcase occupied, Severus really couldn't
complain.
The girl yelped as the bacon in her plate slapped her in the face. A few people looked over at her
but for the most part, this went unnoticed.
Rosier was snorting with laughter beside him. The bacon whacked her in the face again, harder,
leaving a red grease mark on her cheek. Only one person looked over at her now. These sorts of
things were rarely given much attention.
James Potter watched with a frown on his face. When the bacon coiled to strike her again he pulled
his wand out and it dropped to her plate. She stared at it, utterly confused and not even noticing
how Potter had helped her. She looked around, but Potter had already looked away. After a few
seconds, she wiped her face and went back to eating.
Further along the table, another Muggle-born cried out in surprise as their spoon started whacking
them over the top of the head. Along even further, a Muggle-born boy was going cross-eyed as he
stared at his nose, which was rapidly changing color. Severus really hadn't a clue how Rosier knew
which ones were Muggle-borns. Severus himself only knew because he made it his business to
know such things - he had to in order to recruit on behalf of the Dark Lord.
With a wave of Potter's wand, each case of mysterious hijinks abruptly stopped. The Muggle-borns
took a moment, looking utterly bamboozled, before they too shrugged and returned to their food.
Potter didn't. He looked over towards the Slytherin table and, of course, made direct eye contact
with Severus immediately. Those hazel eyes, even at this distance, had a clear question in them.
Severus held his gaze, pouring the full extent of his hatred into the cold stare as much as possible.
Then after a few more seconds, Severus budged. He tilted his head, almost imperceptibly, towards
Rosier.
He watched Potter's gaze drift towards Rosier, and then back to him. A small, equally missable nod
from him. Then, as if nothing had happened, Potter looked away and jumped back into a
conversation between Longbottom and Black.
Severus kept his gaze on Potter's profile.
The last time the two of them had made eye-contact, Severus had been trying to kill him. He had
no doubt that Potter remembered this just as clearly as Severus did.
Severus tried to kill him, Potter fought back, and now they were simply at school. The contrast
almost made him want to smile. Almost. After one more glance at Lily, Severus returned his gaze
to his plate and found he wasn't quite in the breakfasting mood anymore. He glowered down at the
plate full of happy food, and ate in silence. Rosier had at least grown bored of being a repugnant
hooligan, and returned to his meal.
Rosier finished eating after a few more minutes, then got up and left the Great Hall. Quietly and
suddenly, Potter got up and walked out after him.
Remus watched James go curiously. He looked around to see if anyone else found their friend's
abrupt departure strange, but he seemed to be the only one. Sirius was stuck in a conversation with
Marlene looking somewhat uncomfortable, while Peter was staring up at the enchanted ceiling
with a particularly absent look on his face.
Remus sighed.
"Chin up there, Lupin," said Frank from opposite him. "We've got a long day ahead of us."
Remus grimaced. "Don't I know it. Only James can turn Quidditch try-outs into a school-wide
spectacle."
"Yeah," Frank said with a smile, shaking his head. "He certainly has a healthy appreciation for the
spectacular."
"Healthy," Remus snorted.
"You're guaranteed to stay on the team," came another voice, "aren't you Frank?"
It came from a pretty blonde-haired girl with a kind, delicate face, who took this opportunity to
settle into the seat next to Frank. Remus recognized her, if vaguely. Amelia Fawcett, a Seventh
Year Gryffindor, reasonably well-liked and good-natured - he hadn't ever had much to do with her,
but Sirius would talk about her from time to time.
"Of course," said Frank, smiling politely. "James wouldn't dare make us old hands try-out, he's too
scared we'll revolt."
She laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly, putting a hand on his shoulder for a second before
responding.
Remus looked away and smiled to himself, tuning them out. He certainly hoped he was reading
those signs right - it was about time Frank had a spot of fun with a girl. At least, 'fun' in a different
capacity to being Alice Prewett's best friend.
As Remus let his eyes wander around his friends, he could have sworn he saw Alice herself give
Frank a funny look as he talked eagerly with Amelia. Perhaps he was simply imagining it, as she
turned back to her conversation with Lily as though she hadn't looked at all.
Remus grinned at his plate, considering himself lucky to have avoided the abundance of drama that
seemed to be creeping upon his friends.
He was distracted from his musings by Professor McGonagall striding towards them.
She stopped when she reached the group and waited until they were all looking at her before
addressing them. "Your presence is required in the Headmaster's study, the lot of you. You are to
meet there as soon as you've finished your meals."
"Even me?" Amelia asked.

McGonagall looked at her in surprise, only just seeming to notice her. "Oh, no. Not you, Ms
Fawcett."
Amelia looked like she didn't know whether or not to be happy about this.
"Is this in regards to Diagon Alley at all, Professor?" asked Sirius.
The corner of McGonagall's lip twitched. "In part, yes, Mr Black." Then she frowned. "Where's
Potter?"
"He walked off not too long ago," Lily piped up, surprising Remus. Although he supposed it really
shouldn't have come as a surprise that she'd noticed.
McGonagall nodded. "And do you know where he'd have wandered off to?"
"I can probably find him," Remus offered. "I'll pass on to him to meet with you all at
Dumbledore's."
McGonagall turned her frown on him. "And why would you not be joining us, Mr Lupin?"
Remus blinked in surprise. "Well… I didn't think I was, uh-"
"All of you are to be there," she said sternly. "No excuses."
Then she turned and strode away.
"Nice try, Moony," Sirius said consolingly, clearly misinterpreting Remus' hesitance.
As the group finished their meals, got up from the table, and made their way over to Dumbledore's
study, Remus couldn't help but feel out of place. The rest of his friends had been there at Diagon
Alley, had helped, had risked their lives. And Remus hadn't done a thing. When the full moon had
been less than two nights away, and while his friends were being heroes, he was alternating
between being essentially comatose and effectively useless, unable to take even twenty steps before
needing to sit down and get his head straight.
Not for the first time, Remus found himself wading in a sea of disconnection, separation, and
estrangement from his closest friends.
Liza Clarke was feeling resignedly displeased.
Both her parents were Muggles, and though she was only a Second Year she had already
experienced a great deal of Muggle-born hate in this brand new world to her, without ever having
so much as a say in the matter.
Needless to say, she felt rather hard done by.
So when Evan Rosier cornered her on the fourth floor, Liza was altogether unimpressed.
"What's wrong, little Mudblood?" he sneered. "You're not lost are you?"
"No," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to breakfast and you're in my way."
"Am I now? Sure you're not lost?"

"Quite."
"Because you see, last I checked, this was a school for magic. You don't belong here, girlie. So you
must be lost."
She fixed him with a disapproving stare. "I received my Hogwarts letter on the eighteenth of July,
little over a year ago, inviting me here. I have magic, and my teachers tell me I am quite gifted at it.
Not only do I have the proof, but I also need not prove it to the likes of you. So, if that will be all,
I'll be on my way to breakfast."
To her dismay, her words didn't seem to have done much good.
Rosier barred her way and slowly stepped towards her, pulling out his wand with a sinister smile.
"You have a mouth on you, Mudblood."
Liza stepped back, the makings of panic seeping into her, followed quickly by an immobilizing
fear. "What are you doing?"
"Me?" Rosier asked with a mocking smile. "I'm simply teaching a lesson. Nothing to worry about."
"Please don't hurt me," she said in a small voice.
His smile grew wider. "Oh, I won't hurt you. I don't want to get into too much trouble for this."
"Oh, Rosier," said James Potter, leaning against the wall, "it's much too late for that now, isn't it?"
Rosier whirled around. "You!"
"Me," he nodded. He strolled forwards, towards them, and Rosier visibly tensed as he drew near.
But he walked right past Rosier and stopped in front of Liza, crouching down in front of her.
"Alright, Liza?"
"You're James Potter," she said, almost breathlessly.
"I am."
"You know my name," she added.
"I do."
"How do you know my name?"
He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I can learn the names of everyone in this castle, if I so wish. As
well as their whereabouts, but that's less impressive and more creepy, so we won't dwell on that.
Think of it as my superpower."
She stared at him, wide-eyed, and said nothing.
"But you, Liza, are particularly important."
"I am?"
He stood and turned to face Rosier. "Oh, yes. You see, because of you, I now have the excuse I
was looking for to punch our dear friend Rosier's jaw loose."
At this, Rosier seemed to find his tongue again. "You think you're so tough," he sneered.
James pondered this for a moment then shook his head. "No. I just really want to punch you."
"You can't trick me into duelling you, Potter. I know I won't win. You've been trained by the Head
of the Auror Department since you were-"
"Who said anything about duelling?" James asked, tilting his head. "I said I'm going to punch you."
Rosier hesitated, and then harrumphed. "You're probably just going to sucker punch me when I'm
not expecting it, and then you'll run off to brag."
James looked at him for a few moments before sighing. He made a show of putting his hands
behind his back and tilting his face towards Rosier. "I'll let you start then, how about that? Free
shot, Rosier. Go ahead."
Rosier stared. He seemed hesitant, wary of some sort of trick.
James sighed impatiently. "Go on. Punch me, Rosier. I'm trying to be a better person, so I can't just
beat you senseless in good conscience anymore without some provocation. Now do it. But you'd
better give me your best shot, because if you don't, I promise you I will."
Rosier still seemed cautious. Another few moments passed, the gears turning behind his eyes, and
Liza half expected him not to do anything.
Then, with no warning, Rosier lunged forward and connected his fist with Jame's chin, hard. James'
head flew back and his feet left the ground, and he fell onto his back.
Rosier stayed in his stance for another moment, looking almost surprised that he'd actually done it,
before standing up straight with a smug expression sliding onto his face.
He took half a step forward and then stopped, his smug expression wiped clean off, when James
started laughing from where he was on the ground, not even making to sit up yet.
Rosier stared, at a loss for words.
James slowly started to sit up, rubbing his jaw with one hand and still laughing. "That was really
your best shot?"
Rosier frowned and looked ready to attack again when a clear voice rang out through the corridor.
"Rosier, detention!"
Liza turned to see Professor Windstrum walking towards them, fixing a cold stare on Evan Rosier.
Rosier whirled around and glared. "What for?"
Professor Windstrum raised an eyebrow. "For punching a student?"
"He told me to!"
Windstrum shrugged. "Detention for jinxing all those students in the Great Hall just now then.
Whatever. Just get out of here. You'll spend the rest of the day in your Common Room, and report
to Professor McGonagall first thing tomorrow morning. She has desks that need cleaning."
Rosier surveyed him for a few moments. Liza almost thought he was going to spit at him. Instead,
after a couple more seconds, he scoffed, and walked away.
Once he was out of sight, Windstrum looked at Liza and jerked his head the other way.
"Off with you then, Liza. Breakfast won't last much longer."
She nodded quickly, looked back one more time at where James was still sat on the ground, and
then ran off for a well-deserved meal.
When she was gone, James massaged his jaw and looked up at Professor Windstrum from where
he sat. He shuffled to the side and rested his back against the wall. "You let him go," he said dully.
Windstrum watched James with something of a smile on his face before he abruptly dropped down
to sit next to him, and he too rested his back against the wall. "I did."
James scowled. "So I let him punch me for no reason."
Windstrum grinned and looked at him. "You did."
James glared at the ground. He wasn't feeling particularly pleased with Anton Windstrum just then,
and he didn't take long to voice why. "A detention, Professor? Really? That's the punishment you
saw fit for him?"
Windstrum merely shook his head. "Your inexperience is showing, James. You've tasted war, and
you want to fight-"
"I have to fight."
"No, you want to fight. You know full well you could have simply stood between Rosier and dear
Liza, and he would have backed off without much fuss."
James scowled again. "Fine. I wanted to deal out a little justice. So what?"
Windstrum shrugged. "Like I said, it just shows your inexperience. You're not thinking long term."
James raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Let's say this all went exactly how you saw it going. You punched Rosier's jaw loose, beat him to
a pulp even. Liza runs off happy and safe, and you go on to your Quidditch try-outs without a
second thought. What happens when Rosier recovers? Do you think this humiliation will make him
less likely to bully Muggle-borns in the future? Or more?"
James didn't answer.
"We fight when we need to, James. Where there's another way, and especially when there's
a better way, we should always take that route. You need to think more carefully about the
consequences of your actions. What would you have done if Rosier went on to attack more
Muggle-borns because of you?"
"I'd stop him in time, just like now."
"I know that you're smart enough not to believe that's possible. You can't save them all. And when
you fail, the consequences are on your own head."
James looked at him dubiously. "And you think giving him a detention is the solution then? You
think he won't just go on to be a menace anyway?"
Windstrum shrugged again. "There's no simple solution to magic away all our problems. But a
detention, at the very least, won't fan the flames."
James jerked his head. "I guess."
A few seconds passed then, and they both looked at the opposite wall, thinking.
"I feel weird giving you a lecture," Windstrum admitted. "I'm not very much older than you, you
know."
James looked at him. "I figured as much. What are you, twenty-two?"
"Twenty-three," Windstrum corrected. "And not nearly qualified to be teaching."
James smirked, but didn't interrupt as he continued.
"Granted, I've always been brilliant at Defence Against the Dark Arts, so that's not an issue. But
I've just spent the last five or so years travelling around the world, not even coming near any sort of
academic environment. So being back here is rather jarring, to be honest."
"I'm sure you missed it," James reasoned.
Windstrum laughed. "Oh, undoubtedly. I was the king of these corridors in my day. My friend
Caradoc and I may as well have had thrones here. Not unlike yourself and Sirius Black, in fact."
James scoffed. "Not half as brilliant."
Professor Windstrum laughed again. "Perhaps not." There was another small, easygoing silence
then before Windstrum spoke up, as if he'd just remembered. "Oh, Dumbledore wants to see you in
his office."
"What? What for?"
"Not for anything bad, don't you worry. In fact, I imagine you'll quite like it. Your friends should
all be gathered there by now, so you'll want to hurry I think."
James stared for a moment, before getting to his feet. "You're sure?"
"Of course. Fizzing Whizzbees."
James nodded. "You too."
He set off down the corridor. He turned back when Windstrum called his name, raising an
eyebrow.
"Just remember, James. It may be a war, but being a warrior is about more than just fighting."
He nodded slowly, waiting to see if Windstrum had anything more to add. When Windstrum
inclined his head in dismissal, James turned again and made his way to Dumbledore's office.
"Fizzing Whizzbees," he said to the Gargoyle statue, and it stepped out of his way. He stood on the
circular, moving stone staircase, still thinking about all of Winstrum's words.
At the top, he walked into Dumbledore's study and was greeted by the sight of all his friends -
Sirius, Remus, Peter, Frank, Alice, Marlene, and Lily - standing in a row before Dumbledore's
desk, behind which sat Dumbledore himself, with McGonagall standing by his side.
They all turned as James walked in.
"Ah, James," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands happily. "We've been waiting, my dear boy.
Now, shall we begin?"
Frankness
"I have summoned each of you here today," said Dumbledore, "to ask a favor."
James raised his eyebrows in curiosity and looked around at the others, seeing similar expressions
on their faces.
"This favor, while not necessarily dangerous, may eventually lead to danger. Your involvement,
therefore, is entirely in your own hands, and you must feel no obligation to participate." He waited
a moment and looked at each of them, as though expecting one to turn and leave, before he
continued speaking. "Now, to the heart of the matter. As I am sure you all are aware, some of the
students in this castle have, most regrettably, become Death Eaters. It is my belief that those
students will spend their time here trying to recruit others to join their cause, and I can not stress
enough how much I wish to prevent this from happening."
James nodded slowly, guessing where Dumbledore was going with this. Around him, the others
also seemed to be twigging on, nodding too.
"Therefore, what I am asking of you all is simply to keep an eye out and, when necessary,
intervene. This might mean paying close attention to particular students, perhaps even keeping tabs
on their movements and who they might be talking to. This is a big request for me to make, and
could potentially even put any and all of you in a dangerous situation in case of some unfortunate
turn of events. This is why I have chosen to address this with you all in particular. Your actions in
Diagon Alley, not even a week ago, reflect your willingness to help, as well as your bravery,
resourcefulness, and refusal to stand back and watch something terrible unfold."
James said nothing as he surveyed Dumbledore, thinking hard. So Dumbledore knew full well that
some of his students were Death Eaters. Yet, for some reason, they were still allowed to be his
students. He hadn't cracked down on them at all, interrogated them, or even broached the matter
with them. Why was he allowing them to even have the chance to recruit other students? Why was
he allowing them to stay at this school?
James didn't voice these thoughts, as Professor Windstrum's words from not even ten minutes ago
were still running through his mind. Was this what it meant to think long-term?
So James thought about it. What would happen if Snape and the others were expelled? Well, he
figured, they certainly wouldn't have a miraculous change of heart, that was for sure. If anything,
they would be set even further upon a path of vindictiveness and cruelty. They would really just
turn out even worse. So was the best thing to do… nothing?
No, he realized. Clearly, Dumbledore wasn't doing nothing - his solution to the problem was
simply more nuanced than James' would have been. This, right here, was how Dumbledore had
decided to combat those Death Eaters, and this was James' opportunity to be a part of the solution
the right way. Significantly less violent and action-packed, but it was right.
"Well, you know I'll help," said Frank with a small smile.
James nodded firmly. "Me too."
"And me," added Lily.
One by one, they all voiced their pledge to help, and Dumbledore inclined his head at each of
them, smiling like he expected nothing less from the group.
"Now," he said, "this is no excuse to go around breaking rules. Of the lot of you, only Mr
Longbottom, Ms Evans, and Mr Lupin have permission to be patrolling the corridors at late hours."
He looked significantly at James and Sirius as he said this. "And I certainly don't expect this to get
in the way of your studies."
They nodded once more, some of them looking somewhat sheepish.
With all said and done, he dismissed them. They turned and made to file out of the office.
Remus lingered behind them all, and James glanced back to check on him inquisitively.
Remus jerked his head and gave him a reassuring look, so James nodded and left with the others.
With the last of them gone, Remus turned back towards Dumbledore.
He'd expected Dumbledore to look curious or confused, but instead the Headmaster smiled
knowingly, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.
"I have something to say," Remus said, his voice not giving away any emotion.
"Of course," said Dumbledore. "Minerva, if you please."
McGonagall looked at Dumbledore in surprise, but quickly masked it and nodded. She walked
around the desk and left the office, leaving just Dumbledore and Remus.
Remus looked at Dumbledore and Dumbledore simply looked back, waiting. "I shouldn't be here,"
Remus said eventually. "In this office, I mean. I wasn't there that day. I didn't help or prove myself
or show you that you can put any sort of trust in me. Really, I'm in this office right now simply by
association. Because my friends are exceptional."
"You wouldn't call yourself exceptional?" Dumbledore asked, sounding almost sad.
Remus laughed humorlessly. "In the most literal sense, I suppose I am. The boy that turns into a
bloodthirsty beast once a month. How quaint."
"And what about Remus, the Prefect, the scholar? Is he not exceptional?"
Remus said nothing.
"The caring boy who only wants to do the right thing? The clever boy who is, I dare say, one of the
four most notorious students this school has ever seen? The honest boy, full of integrity, who
walked into my office today determined to prove how unworthy and undeserving he is of my
trust?"
Remus opened his mouth to retort but was cut off as Dumbledore continued.
"The boy who, in doing so, gained my trust more fully and implicitly than any amount of life-
saving and wand-waving could do?"
Remus closed his mouth and stared.
"If you are willing, I have a special task specifically for you, Remus. One that, granted, can only be
taken up by someone with your lycanthropic affliction, but at the same time, were you not a trusted
and valued ally, it is a task I would not have otherwise given to you."
Remus blinked, surprised at how quickly Dumbledore had switched from reassuring him to
offering a seemingly very important job.
"Now, there will likely be some danger involved, but nothing I don't think you can handle. Can I
count on you, Remus?"
"Of-Of course," said Remus, hesitance giving way to his eagerness to seize this opportunity
to do something, to help, to finally give his own contribution to the cause.
"Excellent. Professor Windstrum will be in touch with you to discuss the matter further. But for
now, go enjoy your day, Remus. That is, I'm afraid, an order."
Sitting across from one another in the armchairs by the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room,
Lily stared at James.
"You have a bruise on your chin," she told him.
He reached up and rubbed the mark, but didn't look surprised. "Does it make me look dashing and
adventurous?"
"No. It makes you look bruised."
His face fell. "Really?"
She hesitated. "Well I mean, looking bruised can still be charming. In a sad, defeated sort of way,
you know?"
"Right, yeah," he said, wrinkling his nose.
She smirked at him. "So how'd you get it?"
"I got punched," he said shortly.
"Yes, I gathered. By who?"
"Some guy."
Lily waited, but he didn't elaborate. She couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. She had really
wanted to think he'd grown up - for her own, selfish reasons if nothing else.
Even now, sitting across from him, she felt an unmistakable attraction. She'd already decided that
she liked him as a person, as a friend, but in this moment, watching him ruffle his hair in a poor
attempt at nonchalance with the fireplace lighting the angles of his face, a part of her liked him as
something more than a friend. Perhaps it was a small part, but it was definitely there.
Lily could even pinpoint multiple other times this past week when she'd felt the same way. She
would look at him and just feel something, something indecipherable in the pit of her stomach, and
it made her feel happy.
But then she'd get a sign. A sign that he hadn't grown up quite as much as she thought he had. A
sign that he wasn't yet the kind of person that she could think of as someone more than just a
friend, someone whose decisions and lifestyle and choices she could abide by, could stomach.
He was still someone who got into fights and bullied, someone arrogant and churlish.
"Did he at least have it coming?" she asked eventually.
James looked surprised. "Oh, I didn't harm a hair on his head. He just punched me."
She blinked at him, her thoughts coming to an abrupt halt.
He rubbed his jaw wistfully, looking annoyed at the fact, and she believed him.
"Did… you have it coming?"
"No! I-" He hesitated. "Okay, I told him to punch me in the face-"
"What? Why?"
"Look, it's complicated and I'd rather not talk about it. How's the weather?"
She stared. "Good."
"Grand."
"You told him to punch you in the face?"
He scowled. "It was an intimidation tactic."
"Do you think bruises are intimidating?"
"We're not talking about this."
"But I just want to know-"
She was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind her. James' eyes flicked over to the
person and his face fell infinitesimally before he steeled it, and Lily turned in her seat to see
McGonagall by her shoulder, looking at James appraisingly.
"Potter."
"Professor."
"It has come to my attention that you have scheduled Quidditch try-outs for tonight."
He nodded. "Yep."
"Quidditch try-outs," she repeated.
"Yes."
"At night."
"That's the plan."
She narrowed her eyes. "You are aware, of course, that no students are to be out of bed after
hours?"
"I am," he nodded. "But I was hoping we could make an exception. You should see what I've got
planned, Professor. It's going to be more than just Gryffindor try-outs. We're going to have picnic
mats and blankets set up all over the grass of the Quidditch Pitch, the whole school can camp out
all night and watch us, or sit in the stands and watch us, or do whatever they want while they
spend all night watching us."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Professor, I've turned Quidditch try-outs into a social event. It's unprecedented, unexpected, and
frankly brilliant. Surely, as Head of Gryffindor House, you can see the value and appropriacy of
Gryffindor being centre stage while the rest of the school watches in admiration and adulation-"
"Potter," she cut in, clearly running out of patience, "what you seem to have forgotten, in what is
likely your most noble and thoughtful attempt at self-indulgence yet, is that to have most of the
students of this school all in one place after hours, you will need prefects and members of staff
there as well to maintain some modicum of order."
James nodded, giving the impression that he'd seen this point coming. "Frank will be there," he
said with a grin. "You know, Head Boy and all that."
"Yes, Potter, I am aware of who Frank Longbottom is. I am also aware that he is on the team, and
will be in no position to keep watch properly."
James hesitated. "Remus is-"
"Mr Lupin is one person, Potter. Is your entire plan really dependant on a solitary Lupin and a
distracted Longbottom being in charge of hundreds of students?"
It didn't look like James had an answer to that.
Lily gave a resigned sigh and cleared her throat. "I'll be there, Professor. I can rustle up some of the
other Prefects to help me keep an eye out, most of them planned to go anyway. We'll be happy to
help."
McGonagall's eyebrows rose high into her hairline - she clearly would never have thought Lily
Evans would come to James Potter's defence. Frankly, neither had Lily.
"And I can hold you accountable for the outcome of the night, Ms Evans?"
Lily grimaced. "I suppose so."
McGonagall turned back to James. "I don't like how you've gone about this, Potter. I still have half
a mind to simply shut it down."
Now James looked like he'd definitely seen this coming, and he offered a devious smile.
"Professor, it's Sunday already and Gryffindor is the only house that hasn't held try-outs yet. Now,
it's midday and I can't guarantee a change in schedule would reach all the right ears in time."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed as James' smile widened.
"It looks to me like it's in Gryffindor's best interest to proceed as scheduled. It would certainly be
less damaging than to make us wait a whole extra week before holding try-outs, a whole extra
week before we have a full team. As far as I can tell, it looks like this is our only option."
Lily couldn't believe how devious he was. He had purposely left try-outs this late, kept his plan
under the radar for this long, so that McGonagall would have no choice but to allow it.
Professor McGonagall's eyes were still narrowed, but Lily could have sworn she saw her lips
twitch. "Very well, Potter. I know when I've been outplayed. Have your night, but just know that
every student who walks in late to my class tomorrow morning will each lose Gryffindor ten
points."
And with that, she walked off.
A triumphant smirk began to spread across James' face, but was cut short when McGonagall's
voice reached them again from the portrait hole.
"And you'll serve a detention tomorrow evening, Potter. I don't appreciate being played for a fool."
James looked a tad less smug, and she continued. "Though I understand this is your first detention
for your Sixth Year. Consider me… proud."
She stepped out and the portrait closed behind her.
A tentative grin spread slowly across his face. "Believe it or not, that was probably the best case
scenario."
Lily could only shake her head. "You never cease to amaze, Potter."
"Hm, I really don't, do I?"
Seven-thirty at night had seemed a bit late to make an entrance, Peter had thought. To James, it
was still too early.
At eight-thirty, Peter started to get anxious. He sat on his bed and drummed his fingers on his
knees. James was lounging on his own bed, flipping through a magazine.
"How about-"
"No, not yet, Pete. It's still not late enough for us to be fashionably late."
Eight-forty was when Peter got really restless and started pacing the room, and eight-forty-five was
when James finally gave in and they headed down to the Quidditch Pitch.
"If anyone important arrives after us, it'll be on your head, Pete," James warned.
Peter looked at him curiously. "Since when do you care about that sort of thing? You're being very
dramatic about this whole affair, James."
James looked torn for a moment before he sighed. "I'm going to ask out Evans tonight."
Peter looked at him quickly but didn't say anything.
"I keep changing my mind about it, to be honest. But now I'm set. Now I think she might actually
say yes. I don't know, Pete, I've just got a… a feeling. You know?"
"Not particularly."
James sighed again. "You can't change my mind."
"I wouldn't even try. I wouldn't have a clue what to say, really."
"Good. Because it can't be changed."

"Well, alright then."
A slight pause.
"But you think I shouldn't do it?"
"I really couldn't say-"
"We are working really well as friends…"
Peter waited a moment to see if he'd add anything. "Well if that's what you-"
"No. I'm doing it."
Peter sighed. It was like James was in Fourth Year all over again - the unsureness, the nerves, the
smallest hints of fear. Peter had almost forgotten how frustrating it was, as awful as that sounded.
He let his friend ramble on in much the same fashion until they reached the Pitch.
Peter had to gasp as they walked in. It was, and there was really no other word for it, spectacular.
What must have been half the school sat on various little picnic rugs on the grassy Pitch, wrapped
up in blankets with baskets of food scattered all over, like a giant hand had opened above the
Quidditch Pitch and sprinkled down baskets and rugs and blankets and laughing, talking, buzzing
people, all for the benefit of the Gryffindor Quidditch try-outs. There were also plenty of people
gathered in the stands, with more blankets and food. Peter looked up at the very tops of the stands
and saw six orbs of bright light spread around the circumference of the entire Quidditch Pitch,
illuminating the whole Pitch like floodlights at a stadium.
Music played, from where Peter couldn't say, but it emanated all around the Pitch with no clear
source or direction and while it was definitely not quiet, it was also somehow just quiet enough that
everyone seemed to be perfectly content with the volume. It must have been a spell of Sirius'. It
worked wonders - the atmosphere couldn't feel more alive.
He saw Sirius handing out hot drinks at a stand in the middle of the Pitch, and when he saw James
and Peter enter he turned quickly and waved his wand in the general area of the top of the stands
above them.
It couldn't have been more perfect for James, Peter knew.
Filibuster's Fireworks sparked and blasted into the air above them, popping and cracking with wild
bursts of color into the night sky, and every head turned to see James and Peter walk in.
Then, as if it couldn't get any better, they all started clapping and cheering. An entire school
celebrating his entrance had James' lopsided grin as smug and as wide as it ever could be. James
waved to them all, and Peter gave a half-hearted nod to no-one in particular.
"Sonorus," James said quietly, his wand held to his throat. The crowd quietened down gradually,
waiting. Then, in a voice that filled the Pitch and likely carried over to the castle too, James
addressed them all. "Did I get here in time?"
The cheering instantly picked back up, louder than before, and Peter almost wanted to cover his
ears. But goodness, James sure did know how to work a crowd.
"Alright, alright." They quietened again, and James now oozed with confidence. "Try-outs will
start in a half-hour or so. I want to grab a bite to eat, and then we'll get straight to it. All hopefuls
can get in the air now if you want, warm up and all that. The rest of you, just sit back, relax, and
enjoy the show."
After another hearty cheer, the buzz of enthused chatter filled the Pitch once more.
Peter followed James over to an unoccupied mat, and they dropped down onto it.
"Don't you want to go find Lily?" he asked, leaning his elbows on the ground behind him.
James grinned lazily and nodded somewhere ahead, and Peter craned his neck to see Lily Evans
walking towards them with a wry smile on her face. "She'll come to me of course, Pete. She has to
after all that."
Peter didn't like the way that sounded. He watched his friend closely, saw that smirk, the same
smirk he used to wear in Third Year, whenever he was nervous, about to talk to Lily, and
invariably made a fool of himself. False bravado; an over-compensation. It seemed like natural
progression to Peter. James only knew one way to be romantic with Lily, and it was not a good
way. "James," he hesitated, and then continued quickly, "I don't think you're doing this right. I
think you're looking at it all wrong right now, you're regressing, maybe because you're nervous and
scared. You should take some time to-"
"Nonsense, Pete," James said, eyes only for Lily. "There's no better time than the present."
She reached them and dropped down to sit next to James with a sigh. "Bit self-indulgent, all this,
Potter. If I didn't know any better I'd call you an arrogant toerag."
He smiled. "Thank goodness you know better."
She hummed. "Perhaps."
They were quiet for a few moments, and Peter stared at the ground.
Fireworks were still going off in the sky, and would likely go on for another ten minutes - the
Marauder's Filibuster's supply was vast. People ooh'd and aah'd all around the pitch.
"I'll admit," said Lily, "you know how to put on a show."
"I have a keen eye for beauty," he said, staring at her.
There was a pause. Peter didn't look, so he didn't know if she was blushing or not.
"Potter…" she said eventually.
"Evans," he said, his voice low.
Peter looked now, and watched James lean closer to her and his eyes widened as Lily leaned away
from him.
"Potter, don't."
"Go out with me, Evans."
"No."
"Go on," he said, as if asking for a favor and leaning in again.
"No, Potter. Why are you doing this? Why do you have to-"
James' demeanor very quickly changed from what he must have thought was charming to what was
very much not so. He looked offended, and hurt, but mostly like a child who had been promised
sweets from the shops and hadn't gotten any. "What could your excuse possibly be this time,
Evans? I haven't touched a hair on Snape's head-"
"Merlin, Potter! Does it not occur to you, after you say all these stupid things, that I just don't want
to go out with you?"
"Why not?"
"Why n…" she repeated, looking at him in disbelief which very quickly turned into a boiling, red-
faced anger. "Because of this! Moments like this, right now, that's why I don't want to go out with
you. Merlin, just when I think you've stopped surprising me, you go and pull this out of your arse!"
"Should I go?" Peter asked, feeling very awkward.
"Yes, bugger off please," James said through gritted teeth.
"No, Peter," snapped Lily. "Stay. I want you to hear how much of a complete and utter prat your
friend is."
"Well, I'm not going to stay and listen," James growled, getting to his feet.
"Yes, you do excel at disregarding anything others might have to say," Lily retorted, getting to her
feet too.
He snorted, she harrumphed, and they both pivoted and walked away in opposite directions,
leaving Peter sitting alone on the mat feeling somewhat silly.
He looked around for someone he recognized, not knowing what else to make of the situation. Not
far from him, Alice Prewett sat alone on her own mat, looking off into the distance. With a sigh,
Peter got up and walked over, sitting down next to her. "At least you're not being stressful and
dramat-"
"I hate Amelia Fawcett," she said. Peter followed her gaze to see Frank Longbottom and Amelia
standing around, chatting. Frank was leaning on his broom, smirking, and her hand was on his arm.
"She's stupid."
Peter frowned. "Her grades are quite good, from what I know."
"She has a stupid face."
A hesitation. "I suppose, as far as faces go, it… might… be stupid."
She grunted.
He really didn't know what else to say.
After perhaps a few more seconds, she scoffed and stood up. "I can't even watch anymore."
Then she walked away.
Peter sighed one more time and looked up at the sky. It was a very pretty night.
Lily plopped down next to Marlene, and Alice joined them not a moment later.
"Boys," Alice spat.
"Boys," Lily agreed, louder than she'd intended.
"They only want one thing," Marlene nodded sagely.
The fireworks were still going. Lily would have found them stunning, were she not completely fed-
up with anything Marauder-related.
"I'll never go out with Potter," she declared.
Alice raised an eyebrow. "Never?"
"Never ever."
Alice eyed her cautiously. "Say another girl came into the picture, started getting too friendly with
him…"
"I'd feel sorry for her," she said shortly.
Her friends were quiet at that. After a moment, Marlene spoke up. "That sounds like a never ever to
me."
"It does indeed," Alice said.
"That's because it is." Lily crossed her arms and scowled.
After another few seconds, Marlene turned to Alice. "And what's got you worked into a frenzy?"
Alice seemed to consider the question, then narrowed her eyes when she settled on an answer.
"Boys."
The other two nodded.
"The bastards."
To James, the party had officially died. Although no-one else seemed to think so.
"Alright, Potter?"
He ignored whoever that was as he walked to the changing rooms.
"Hi, James!"
"Shut up," he mumbled.
Peter had been right, of course.
Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot.
Did he even deserve her? Well, certainly not after that little performance. Merlin, was that his last
shot at her? It felt like it. Could his run with Evans be over? It shouldn't be, but something about
that conversation just then… it really felt like that was it. "Idiot!"
He sat down on a bench and lay his broom on his lap.
Frank walked in then, looking far too pleased with himself. "Alright, Captain?"
James snorted and shrugged, dripping frustration.
Frank didn't seem to notice. He opened his locker and rummaged around, and as he did, he
hummed to himself.
James sighed. "Out with it then, Longbottom. Why are you in such an insufferably good mood?"
Frank looked surprised at the question, and shrugged. "Nothing, really." He hummed to himself
again, and then stopped and looked at James. "Amelia Fawcett sure is a treat, eh?"
"I suppose so… Frank, are you - are you interested in her?"
Frank flushed. "I guess. At the very least, she's interested in me."
"And Prewett?"
The color returned to Frank's face. "She is decidedly not interested in me."
"And are you still interested in her?"
Frank shook his head firmly.
When James still looked doubtful, Frank pressed the matter. "Really, I'm not. It's my last year here.
I don't intend to waste my time anymore. Amelia likes me, and she's great. That's all there is to it
now."
James nodded slowly, and felt glad that his friend at least seemed to have been able to move on.
Now he was next.
"Good on you, Longbottom."
Much later, well after try-outs had ended and students had started to drift back up to the castle,
Remus was approached in the stands by Professor Anton Windstrum.
Windstrum had asked Remus about himself first, wanting to properly get to know him. They hadn't
yet talked outside of class, not really, and Windstrum offered up just as much information on
himself as Remus divulged.
Windstrum told him some stories of his time in Africa, and then Russia, Australia, the U.S. He was
clearly very well travelled. Windstrum had led civil uprisings in the states and fought off a hydra in
Germany. He even had a very interesting story about a Minotaur in India. Remus in turn told him
about, well, the only thing he really had to tell people about.
The day he was bitten, the day he'd first transformed, even the day James, Sirius, and Peter had
found out he was a were-wolf. Of course, he didn't relay the conversations that came about after
this - Windstrum's stories weren't that good.
Gradually, Windstrum seemed satisfied, and debriefed him on some of the finer points of
Dumbledore's assignment for them. It wouldn't clash with class, his Professor stressed, but he also
promised to be somewhat lenient with Remus when it came to late homework submissions. Remus
assured him that wouldn't be necessary, but Windstum winked and told him to just take it.
"We'll leave the castle on Friday evening," Windstrum said. "I expect we won't get back until
Saturday night, maybe even as late as next Sunday."
Remus wrinkled his nose. "Next Saturday is the first Hogsmeade visit."
"Yeah, sorry about that. We can hit Honeydukes on our way out, if you want. And when we get
back, too."
Remus grinned. "Sounds like as good a plan as any."
"Perfect." Windstrum clapped his hands and started walking away. "You'll meet my friend Caradoc
once we get out. You'll like him, he's great."
Remus nodded. "Looking forward to it, boss."
Windstrum's retreating figure was replaced by that of Peter's. He looked tired and altogether done
with this whole affair. Much the same as Remus, then.
"Where's James? And Sirius?" Remus asked.
"Sirius left for the castle not long ago. James has wandered off somewhere, not sure where. It
hasn't been his night."
Remus snorted. "I know what that means."
Peter nodded. "Unfortunately." Then he looked around, watching the last dregs of students stretch
and yawn and amble out. "Can we go?"
Remus yawned just from watching them all, and jerked his head. "Yeah."
Much, much later, when the sun had cracked the horizon and the Pitch itself was almost empty,
Alice approached the only other person left.
James was sprawled out on the last mat on the Pitch, staring up at the sky. He didn't look over as
she reached him, nor when she lay down right next to him.
"Bad night?" she asked.
He grinned. "You heard?"
"Sort of. You're a prat, apparently."
"I'm definitely a prat."
The sky was split still, as though unsure what time of day it wanted to be. The streaks of yellow
and orange hadn't yet penetrated through all the navy blue the night had brought, and James and
Alice stared up at it all, watching the roots of light spread into the sky.
"Frank kissed Amelia," she said, breaking the silence.
He nodded. "I saw. It was unusually forward of him, to be quite frank."

Her lips twitched. "To be quite frank?"
He rolled his eyes. "Quite."
She rolled onto her side so she was facing him directly. "Well, may I be frank with you, Mr
Potter?"
He glanced at her and quirked an eyebrow expectantly.
"I don't think you're a prat."
He laughed. "Well, that changes everything."
"I already know you're arrogant and conceited."
"Undoubtedly."
"And I'll be completely frank with you, James. I don't much care."
He rolled over onto his side too, their faces mere inches apart. "My dear Ms Prewett, you can't
seriously be flirting with me."
She frowned. "No, I'm not. At least I don't think I am."
He nodded approvingly. "Good. Because you cannot handle romantic Potter."
Her face grew nearer. Their noses were close enough to brush together, if they tried.
"Romantic Prewett is something of a menace herself, James."
He tilted his head - it was the tilt. The tilt that meant when he leaned even closer, his nose moved
past hers and their lips were a hair's breadth apart. Behind his eyes, there seemed to be a battle
waging - for what, Alice couldn't be sure.
Then, his expression settled, and he grinned. "I'll be the judge of that."
They kissed.
Lips on lips, nothing more, both applying the gentlest pressure. Alice searched and sorted through
the resulting emotions, and pulled away, putting proper space between them again.
"That," James said after a moment, "wasn't as weird as I thought it would be."
She nodded quickly in relief. "It should be weird, right? It came out of nowhere! We've never been
even remotely like... this. It seems so random. I was expecting to be really grossed out."
"Really grossed out," he agreed. "But… I'm not."
She waited a moment. "Then what are you?"
He considered this for a moment. Then he seemed to forget what he was considering as they both
stared at each other, eyes wandering over the other's face, searching for a hint.
Whatever it was she was looking for, Alice found it in his eyes.
She lunged forward, her hand at the side of his neck, and he was able to give a short laugh before
her lips captured his again.
Blithe
If villages could make friends, Upper Aberington was a lonely little village that lacked the social
skills and general friendliness to even maintain an acquaintance. Its cobbled streets were dark and
uninviting, and its ramshackle houses looked like they would sooner fall in over one's head than
provide any sort of comfort. Its main attraction was a mossy fountain in a clearing at the centre of
the village that, every ten minutes or so, would ooze a drop of dirty brown water into a struggling
little puddle.
It came as no surprise to Remus that the village had numerous reports of potential Death Eater
activity. What he couldn't understand was why he was there in the first place. "It almost feels like
we're just waiting for Death Eaters to come and find us."
Professor Windstrum nodded. "I can see how it might feel that way."
Remus looked around the empty village square before pressing, "So what are we waiting for?"
"Death Eaters to come and find us," said Caradoc Dearborn, looking rather chipper about it.
The three stood in the village square and watched the wind blow leaves across the ground and the
fountain continue to drip and drop.
Remus frowned "I thought we're here to look for someone."
"The best way to begin looking for anything, Remus, my boy, is to wait," said Caradoc.
"Oftentimes, you'll find that it will find you."
"Or something else will find you and try to kill you," Windstrum added, looking equally
untroubled.
"Yes, that tends to happen a lot too."
Remus suppressed a sigh. They had been like this all night, the two of them. Reunited after a
handful of years, they were much too eager to dive headfirst into the mission. They'd already
jumped on a Muggle man on the outskirts of the village who happened to wear a black cloak, and
the man hadn't been plenty impressed.
"So what do we want from the Death Eaters?"
"Information and a good few minutes of entertainment," Caradoc said, his handsome features
spreading into a wide grin.
"Highly sensitive information," Windstrum added, clearly picking up on Remus' frustration. "The
Death Eaters still don't trust Caradoc fully, so we have to get it the old-fashioned way."
"By knocking their heads together," Caradoc grinned.
Remus watched the fountain let another slow drop fall. "And what is this information we want?"
"A name." Caradoc's grin was slowly replaced by a frown, growing on his face like mold on
cheese. "There is someone in the Ministry working against us. I don't know who, but it's someone
with lots of influence. And I'm not talking about the Goyles or the Notts, or anyone like their sort. I
mean enough influence to block the Auror Department from making a move against the Death
Eaters. Enough influence to ensure that the few moves we do make have been prepared for long in
advance. Our inquiries are useless and our raids are futile. Just look at the raid on the Goyle
residence - no results and Potter, the Head of the Auror Department himself,
was conveniently taken out of commission."
"In Potter's absence, Emmett Fawley is trying his best to at least be somewhat useful as interim
Head of the department, but there's not much that can be done. This mystery person has been too
elusive." Windstrum grimaced. "In all honesty, I hadn't even known of this person's existence until
a few days ago. I've asked around among the few Ministry contacts I have, but it's not much-"
"He's being modest," Caradoc told Remus. "They love him over at the Ministry. Tell him about the
Bowtruckle Banquet, Anton."
"He doesn't need to know-"
"We were in Seventh Year," Caradoc began, quickly smiling at the memory, "and your teacher
here had made quite a name for himself at the time. He was a prodigy at defensive magic."
"Shut up," said Windstrum, scowling.
"That's what they called him, you see. Did you know he single handedly developed the technique
of using a Patronus to send a message over a distance?"
"I did not," said Remus, impressed.
"It was quite revolutionary. He got an O on the Owl, naturally, and come Seventh year he found
himself as somewhat of a celebrity in certain circles."
"Pretentious, worthless circles," Windstrum added.
"In other words, some people over at the Ministry."
"Pureblood fanatics," spat Windstrum. "I didn't realise immediately, of course. I wanted to be an
Auror, and I thought they'd be good contacts - Morgan Bullstrode and his lackeys."
"Not dangerous folk at all, mind you, Remus," Caradoc continued, "but nor were they very savory
company. Not particularly impressive people, either - not if you have half a brain, at any rate. As
the way the world is, though, they were the ones with power in the Ministry, and they were
grooming Anton here to be the next Minister for Magic."
"Which I promptly turned down."
Caradoc sniggered at his friend's sourness. "They invited him to the Bowtruckle Banquet, a
real who's who of the Wizarding elite, where they intended to surprise him with the good news of
their plans. Provided, of course, that he be a puppet figure for them as Minister."
Remus stared. "They wanted a seventeen-year-old to be the Minister?"
"Not immediately," Caradoc clarified. "They'd give him a few more years to become more well-
known and respected, all the while entrenching him within their little group. You have to
understand, I really do mean it when I say that they are not impressive people. They could never
become Minister themselves. I'm sure you can see the appeal of a young, powerful, and well-
respected new Pureblood figure they could use to their advantage. So when the time was right, they
made their case to Anton at the banquet."
"They never anticipated Caradoc being there," said Windstrum, shaking his head.
Caradoc grinned. "They of course figured Anton would bring a date. I was much less a date and
much more a nuisance."
"Caradoc overhead one of them talking about me being a puppet for their schemes, and he saw fit
to let a few cratefulls of Cornish Pixies loose."
"It was rather silly of them to keep Pixies around in the first place. Apparently it was to be
entertainment, sickly enough. Anyway, in the ensuing madness I grabbed Anton and told him what
I'd heard."
"And then we trashed the place together and left."
Remus' jaw dropped and he looked from one of them to the other. "Did you get in any trouble?"
"Of course not," Windstrum scoffed.
"They didn't dare make a big fuss over it, not after revealing their hand. We simply left, reported to
Dumbledore, and didn't hear another word from them."
"The whole experience ruined my dreams of becoming an Auror," Windstrum grumbled. "I can't
stand Ministry folk anymore. It's no surprise I took a few years off to travel the world."
"So, like I said, they love dear Anton over at the Ministry."
Windstrum rolled his eyes. "I wish that was the case. It's a wonder I have any contacts left at all."
"This Morgan Bulstrode," Remus repeated slowly. "You don't think he could be our mystery
person, by any chance?"
Caradoc looked at him, then turned to Windstrum with raised eyebrows. "He catches on fast."
"He's a good student," Windstrum nodded. "Yes, Remus. We still can't be one-hundred-percent
sure, but I think if anyone's the one we're looking for, it's Bulstrode."
"But we can hardly knock on his door and ask him," said Caradoc. "So we have to do this the hard
way."
"Yes, I can't imagine he'd be too gelled to see me these days. Especially seeing that Eugenia
Jenkins ended up becoming Minister."
Caradoc nodded. "Only the second Muggle-born Minister ever. But, more importantly, a capable,
good person. Bulstrode must hate you, Anton."
Windstrum sighed.
Remus didn't understand. "If she's so good, how come the Death Eaters still seem to have so much
control over the Ministry?"
The two were quiet for a few moments.
"That's the question we all want answered," Windstrum said eventually. "But from what it looks
like, someone important is working against her. This is why our mission right now is so essential."
"So on that note," said Caradoc, a little louder, "It's about time we greet our new friends, don't you
think, Anton?"
Windstrum grinned. "Oh, I think you're quite right, Caradoc."
Remus' eyes widened slightly, he nodded, catching their drift, and the three of them turned around.
The five Death Eaters sneaking up behind them froze.
"Hello," called Caradoc. "Nice night for it, isn't it?"
Just a few paces away, the masks on their faces gave no hints of emotion, but there was hesitance
in their eyes. The closest one spoke after a moment, his voice slightly muffled. "Who are you?"
Caradoc beamed. "None of you recognize me? None of you were there that night I spoke with
Rodolphus?"
The five of them turned to one another confusedly before eventually turning back. "No," said the
Death Eater.
"Brilliant," said Caradoc. "That makes this much simpler."
Caradoc and Windstrum raised their wands simultaneously, almost like they'd rehearsed it, and sent
stunning spells and disarming spells shooting at the Death Eaters in quick succession. Most of the
Death Eaters dodged but one of them was caught by a jet of light and flung backwards, sprawling
on the ground and not getting up.
Another Death Eater ran at Remus, eyes narrowed behind the metal mask. Quickly lifting his wand
as the Death Eater got near, he hit him with a jelly-legs jinx and the Death Eater tripped and fell.
"Petrificus Totalus," he said distractedly, looking around at the others while the Death Eater
stiffened up.
Windstrum was circling around the fountain, a Death Eater facing him on the other side. Caradoc
was conjuring ropes and binding another one, not noticing the fifth Death Eater sneaking up behind
him, wand raised.
"Look out," Remus yelled.
Caradoc whirled just as the Death Eater started waving his wand. "Protego."
White light shot from the Death Eater's wand, hit something invisible and reflected back, knocking
him down with a grunt.
The fountain exploded and Remus turned quickly. Windstrum dived forwards, rolling onto the
shattered fountain and springing up right in front of the remaining Death Eater. With a punch to the
chin the mask went flying off, revealing a pale, spotty face that twisted into a snarl. A right hook
found the Death Eater's nose, breaking it instantly on contact, and a left cross sent him straight to
the ground.
Caradoc and Remus joined Windstrum by the man's slumped body.
"Is he still conscious?" Remus asked, frowning.
Caradoc kicked him.
"Ow."
"Yes," he said.
The Death Eater got to his knees and glared up at the three of them, blood dripping from his wonky
nose down to his lips. "You'll all die for this."
"That's the spirit, lad. Now," said Caradoc, hunkering down to meet him at eye level, "what's your
name?"
"Tobias."
Caradoc tapped his chin and tilted his head. "Tobias Selwyn?"
"Yes," he said slowly. "How do you know?"
"I'm an Auror," said Caradoc. "And you're under arrest."
Tobias grinned, blood on his teeth. "Arrest me if you want. I'll be free as early as tomorrow
morning."
Windstrum narrowed his eyes. "You're implying there's someone in the Ministry on your side?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Tobias said, looking away with a smugness pulling at his
lips.
Caradoc raised an eyebrow, and then gave an evil smile. "I think you do know what we're talking
about, Tobias. And I think you're going to tell us."
Tobias frowned. "Why would I-"
Caradoc grabbed his head and mashed it onto the ground. Tobias spluttered against the damp,
cracked stone, flailing his legs about and trying to push Caradoc away. "Our friend here, he's been
quiet this whole time, Tobias. You know why that is?" Caradoc leaned close to Tobias' ear.
"Tonight is the full moon."
Remus frowned. It definitely was not the full moon.
Tobias stopped struggling. He tried lifting his head but Caradoc pushed it back down. Against the
ground, his muffled voice rose. "That boy's a… a werewolf?"
"Oh, yes. Even as we speak, he is struggling against some violent, bloodthirsty urges to rip your
throat out. And the more of our time you waste, the closer he'll be to doing so."
Tobias tried to sound confident. "You won't let him kill me."
"I wouldn't presume to 'let' him do anything, Tobias. He's a werewolf. If he wants to taste your
kidneys, there won't be much argument from me. These sorts of things happen all the time. The
werewolf community is very active, and notoriously difficult to discipline."
Windstrum nudged Remus.
Remus grimaced at his teacher before sighing inwardly. He shifted around and grunted and
groaned, trying to replicate the involuntary reactions he usually had when he was close to
transforming.
"Okay," Tobias shrieked, "I'll talk, just don't let that thing eat me!"
Remus scowled.
"Anton, do escort our fluffy friend here a safe distance away, please."
"But it's so scary," Windstrum said in a bored voice. "Please don't make me."
"I'm afraid I must insist, my friend."
Windstrum clapped Remus on the shoulder and they took a few exaggerated steps back, with
Remus grunting and dragging his feet. They stomped on the spot for a few more seconds, like they
were still moving further away, before their stomps grew less pronounced and then stopped
altogether.
"Now talk," said Caradoc. "And spare no detail."
"Can you at least let me up?"
"If the next thing out of your mouth isn't useful to me, you'll be the next thing in my friend's
mouth."
"Alright, alright. Look, there is someone high up in the power chain that's working against the
Minister. And Eugenia trusts him, she has no clue he's on our side."
"So it's a man?"
"Yes."
"What's his name?"
"I don't know-"
"What's his name?" Caradoc roared, shaking him by the neck.
"I don't know! I swear I don't!" Tobias' voice was shaking. "Very few of us do. Even fewer have
actually seen him."
"Who, then? Who's seen him?"
"Other than the Dark Lord? I really don't know. Maybe none of us."
Caradoc watched him for a seconds before removing his grip and standing, looking ponderous.
Tobias brought himself to his hands and knees and looked up. "Is that all?"
"What do you know of Morgan Bulstrode? Do you think it could be him?"
Tobias blinked and offered a half-shrug. "Maybe. I don't know a lot about him, but I don't see why
not. He could very well- Wait… That's not a full moon!"
His gaze shifted from the sky to Windstrum and Remus and his eyes narrowed.
"Obliviate," Caradoc said lazily.
Tobias' eyes became vacant.
"Stupefy."
He hit the ground once more and stayed there this time.
"I'll have to clear all their memories," said Caradoc, looking around the square at the unmoving
forms of the other Death Eaters and sounding tired. "Rodolphus still doesn't suspect I'm a spy. I
can't have him seeing me in this lot's heads."
"He said the Minister trusts our mystery man," said Windstrum, still looking at Tobias and
frowning. "But Eugenia should have more sense than to trust Morgan Bulstrode."
Caradoc nodded. "Which leaves two possibilites. Either, Bulstrode is innocent-"
"Unlikely."
"-or he's managed to fool the sharpest woman we know."
They both looked troubled, and Remus took the opportunity to speak up. "Was this the whole
reason you brought me along? To scare Death Eaters?"
Caradoc laughed. "Of course not. I had no clue he'd be that stupid, but it worked out. No, Remus,
you actually will have an important role to play soon."
Remus wasn't impressed. "And you're not going to tell me what that role is until just before I'm
needed, right?"
Caradoc grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Right you are, Remus! Otherwise, where
would the fun be?"
Windstrum punched Remus on the shoulder and winked. "Welcome to the team, lad."
Remus watched them walk away and realized it would be a very long weekend indeed.
"I just think it's weird," Lily said, for what felt like the thousandth time.
"You've said that," said Marlene. "A thousand times."
They sat in the Common Room, by the windows. Marlene was studying. Lily was watching James
and Alice be weird, over by the fireplace.
"Well, am I wrong? Isn't it weird?"
"No," said Marlene, not looking up. "It isn't weird. They're oddly sweet together."
Lily pursed her lips and frowned. "It's like incest, though."
"Maybe," Marlene nodded. "Except not at all. Not even remotely. Not literally, not metaphorically,
not faintly. Lily, you're being dramatic."
"You're just defending James because you're on the Quidditch Team now."
"A little, perhaps. Although I find it interesting that you don't think I need to defend Alice."
Lily turned her gaze back on Marlene sharply. "You need to defend her, too. They're both in the
wrong."
"Why's that?" Marlene asked, with the sort of tone that indicated she was growing tired of saying
the same things in the same conversation.
"James is the enemy because he asked me out, clearly had feelings for me, acted like an arse, and
after I rejected him like he deserved he just turned around and hooked up with one of my best
mates!"
"Because it's definitely as simple as that."
"It is. And Alice is in the wrong because after everything, everything I've ever said about that boy,
even after I complain about him annoying me on that very same day, she went and hooked up with
him!"
"How terrible of her."
"It is," Lily said again. "If he thinks this will make me jealous, he has another thing coming."
"Why would it make you jealous?"
Lily stared. "Well, it doesn't. That's my point."
"It is?"
"Yes."
"Because I was starting to think you didn't have a point."
"And I'm starting to think you're not taking this seriously."
"What gave me away?"
Lily glared and stood up. "Traitors. The lot of you. Traitors everywhere."
The next morning was bright and sunny, and when a Saturday morning was bright and sunny at
Hogwarts it was essentially an unwritten rule that everybody be outside to enjoy it.
James and Alice sat against the tree by the lake, watching the Giant Squid as it lurked close to the
shallows, sneaking up on some Third Years by the edge.
"Hogsmeade today," Alice said, a small smile playing on her lips.
James raised an eyebrow and said nothing.
"I'm waiting for you to ask me out, you know. And I'll punch you if you don't."
"Remember when Alice Prewett was a sweet, gentle soul that wouldn't hurt a fly?"
"You've corrupted me, James. The least you can do is take me to lunch."
"I am taking you to lunch. I thought that was a given."
"You have to ask me, James."
He frowned. "I do?"

"You do."
"Well, now I'm not going to. Just on the sheer principle of it."
She laughed. "What happened to 'romantic Potter', hm? He lasted all of five minutes."
He put his arm around her and squeezed. "Liar."
She grinned and rested her head on his shoulder. "Fine. You're not bad. You're passable."
"That's not how you say 'brilliant', Al."
"You're mediocre. Run-of-the-mill."
He sighed. "Some people just don't know a good thing when they have it."
They watched as the squid reached a tentative tentacle out of the water, sliding it along the ground
towards a short boy's ankle.
Alice turned her head to him, her nose almost touching his cheek. "You know who really doesn't
know a good thing when they have it?"
James tilted his head towards her slightly and waited.
"Lily," she said. "I know I really shouldn't be inflating your ego more, but I can't understand how
she would possibly reject you."
"I'm an arrogant toerag," he mumbled.
"No." She reached up to his chin and tilted his head towards her more. "You're just an idiot."
"Okay now that's-"
"Shut up and listen. Now, I can't testify as to whether or not you've been an arrogant toerag in the
past, although I'm inclined to believe you have. No- Shush, James. The thing is, you've clearly
changed, and Lily likes you now."
He narrowed his eyes but didn't interrupt.
"It's painfully obvious. You're still arrogant, of course, but loveably so. But here's where I think it
gets complicated."
The tentacle wrapped around the boy's ankle, lightly at first but steadily growing tighter. The boy
didn't notice.
"I think you're arrogant in ninety-nine situations out of a hundred. But there's one where you're not -
in fact, there's one situation where you become the opposite, and you shrink into this defensive
stance of unsureness and a brutal dismantlement of your own self-worth. And that's when you ask
out Lily. As if to compensate for all the things she's ever told you, you exhibit those qualities
tenfold, like some sort of self-destructive defense-mechanism."
"Peter said something like that," he mumbled.
"It's apparent to us all, James," she said, smiling kindly. "Well, all except Lily, I guess."
He snorted.
"James, what you need to do, before you even try asking her out again, is get out of that funk.
You're not an arrogant toerag or a cowardly bully or whatever else that little voice in your brain is
screaming at you. Overcome that, and then I think you and Lily will have clean sailing ahead of
you."
He looked at her, amused. "You're a fantastic girlfriend, you know that?"
She shrugged. "You could stand to say it more often."
"Duly noted." He paused, then had to probe her. "So, Lily likes me."
"Yep. You're wondering what kind of friend of hers would go out with you anyway?"
"No."
"Liar. Really though, I'm not entirely sure. She had just said at the time that she'll never be with
you, and even if she changes her mind I know she's stubborn enough to commit to that. I figured,
why waste a perfectly good boyfriend?"
He grinned. "Aren't we a pair?
"We are indeed."
They were quiet for a few seconds. She had rested her head back on his shoulder and closed her
eyes.
"Frank likes you too, you know," James said, grinning.
She looked at him sharply. "He what?"
"He's liked you for years, but you're his best friend. He's been too scared to do anything."
"Scared of what?"
"Scared that you'll say no, obviously."
She seemed to ponder this. "Up until a week or two ago, I probably would have said no. And
then…"
"And then Amelia Fawcett came along."
"Yeah. That bitch."
He smirked. "So in turn, my advice to you as your boyfriend, my dear Alice, is to show him you're
interested. Let him know that now you wouldn't say no."
She raised an eyebrow and moved closer towards him, bringing her hand to the side of his neck.
"Only after I'm done with you, of course. "
He placed his hands on her hips and brought her closer so she was almost resting on top of him.
"And when do you think that will be?"
She leaned down and kissed him lightly. "I don't know. At least not until after I get my lunch date."
The tentacle yanked the boy into the lake. The air was filled with the startled cries of his friends as
they dove in after him, trying to pull him free of the squid's clutches.
"Well in that case," he said, grinning slyly and rolling them over, "will you go for lunch with me,
Alice?"
Scheduling Quidditch practice for right before a Hogsmeade trip had not been a popular decision.
To Frank, it was just another sign that James Potter was a twat now.
"Alright, team," said James, surveying the rest of them as they hovered in the air. "We're almost
done here, just bear with me for ten more minutes."
The others rolled their eyes but didn't look too bothered. Frank glowered at him.
"Murphy, Walsh, keep working on your synergy. I know you've only just started working together,
but we need you two to be a well-oiled machine as fast as possible. Murphy, run him through some
drills from last year."
Murphy nodded, and the two flew away.
"Smith," James said to the Seeker, "you know what to do."
Smith nodded and flew off, pursuing the Snitch or something rather. Frank never quite clued on to
what drills the Seeker did at practice - it was all very odd and complex.
"McKinnon, O'Brien, we'll keep to the posts. Your accuracy impressed me at try-outs, the both of
you, but it's still not quite at a competitive level. I'll run you through our formations properly
another time. Longbottom-" He hesitated.
Frank raised a cold eyebrow and James' eyes quickly steeled.
"-let's get you up at the posts and have our newbies take a crack at you."
Frank nodded, turned, and flew to the posts. While he knocked Quaffles away from the hoops, he
imagined they had messy black hair and lopsided grins. Needless to say, Marlene and Eamon
O'Brien scored very little against him.
After fifteen minutes, Frank counted, James called them all over again, and practice was over.
"Murphy, Walsh, whenever you have free time, see if you can meet here and whack a Bludger
around for a bit. Just whenever you can."
The Beaters nodded and walked off.
"Now, does Monday afternoon work for you two to meet me in the Common Room to talk
formations?" James asked Marlene and Eamon.
"Do you think we could push it to evening, Captain?" asked Eamon. "I have a date in the
afternoon."
"On a Monday afternoon?" James gave him an odd look, then shrugged and laughed. "You're a
strange one, O'Brien. Yeah, that's fine. Let's say five-thirty? McKinnon, all good?"
The two of them nodded, and off they went.
James glanced at the stoic Seeker and inclined his head. "Whatever you have to do, Smith."
Smith gave a curt nod and wordlessly departed, leaving just Frank and James standing on the pitch.
They watched each other for a few seconds.
Eventually, James' hard expression fell and he grimaced. "Frank, come on, what are we even-"
"Are you taking her to Hogsmeade today?"
James frowned and his eyes searched Frank's. "Of course I am."
Frank nodded slowly but didn't respond.
James sighed impatiently. "This is stupid. If you're going to hit me then hit me. If you're not, then
let's just stop this and move on with-"
Frank punched him hard on the cheek and James stumbled back, bringing a hand to his face.
"Are you crazy?"
"Are you?" Frank shouted back. "You're supposed to be my friend. You know I've liked Alice for
years. You know this!"
"Frank, you made a choice to date Amelia."
"And so you decided to immediately snap up Alice?"
"I didn't snap up anyone. You're so besotted with Alice, yet you think so little of her that you don't
trust her to make her own decisions? Not that it's any of your business, but she came on to me!"
Frank tackled him and they both hit the ground. "You- are-" said Frank, trying to put him in a hold,
"-a terrible - friend - James."
"You-" hissed James, rolling over to try to get on top, "-don't - own - her."
Frank wrapped an arm around his neck and planted James' face in the grass, locking in the choke
hold with his other hand. James' hand grasped at Frank's sleeve but his grip grew weak when Frank
tightened the hold.
"Yield," Frank said through gritted teeth.
James said nothing, continued struggling. Frank couldn't see his face but his ears and the back of
his neck were growing redder and redder. James started trying to pry Frank's hand loose so Frank
applied more pressure. Then James changed tact and pried at Frank's fingers instead. He lifted
Frank's ring finger up, stretching the muscles connecting the fingers, and Frank cried and lifted his
hand. Before Frank could reapply it, James broke from the hold and twisted his body slightly,
wrapping his legs around Frank's own neck. Frank gagged, couldn't shake James' legs loose,
couldn't lift them away. He pounded James' shins with his fists, James tightened his legs, and
specks of white light started filling Frank's vision.
As a last-ditch-effort, he stretched out his own leg and kicked James in the side. Once hard, twice
harder, and on the third James screamed and loosened his hold.
Frank rolled away, gasping for air, and James rolled the other way, coughing and clutching his
side. They both lay on the ground, breathing hard and wincing up at the sky. Eventually, Frank
stood. James got to his hands and knees.
Frank walked towards him and James looked up at him warily. Then, after a moment of
consideration, Frank stretched his arm out. "Hospital Wing?"
James looked at the outstretched hand for a second before taking it. "Yeah."
Frank pulled him up and James threw an arm around his shoulders for support. Together, they
hobbled up to the castle, wincing and groaning like idiots.
Remus lingered behind the other two on the doorstep, and Caradoc knocked on the wooden door
three times, loudly. Night was coming in fast and Remus was tired, as usual.
"This guy loves me," Caradoc said over his shoulder. "I've arrested him a few times and we get
along really well."
Remus eyed the door with uncertainty. "Who is he?"
"Cassus Lucio," said Caradoc. "He's in the know for most shady goings on in Wizarding Britain,
and is also a Death Eater affiliate - but only ever an affiliate, he'll be quick to remind you. We have
this great back-and-forth, him and I, you'll love it."
There was a clink of metal on the other side of the door. It opened a crack and a lined, grumpy face
peeked through.
"Hi, Cassus," said Caradoc, leaning in to see him. "Cleared of all charges again, I see."
"You," spat Cassus, eyes narrowing. He moved out of sight and the door slammed shut.
Caradoc waited patiently, hands clasped behind his back. After thirty seconds, he knocked again.
"Is now a bad time?"
No answer, still. After a further minute of waiting, Caradoc knocked once more. "Cassus, I've got a
werewolf with me." He stepped back expectantly.
Surprisingly, before long, metal latches were undone on the other side of the door and it swung
open. Cassus stepped out, short and stout and looking like a wrinkly little teapot. His eyes instantly
fell on Remus and he waddled forward and shone something bright into Remus' eyes, gazing up
into them like they'd tell him something he'd always wondered about life.
"Yes," Cassus said after a pause to no-one in particular. "He is a werewolf."
He shifted back inside, but left the door open.
Windstrum raised his eyebrows and Remus blinked rapidly.
Caradoc grinned. "Isn't he a riot?" Without waiting for a response, he strolled into the house.
Remus looked at his teacher and Winstrum sighed and shook his head before following his friend
in. Remus hesitantly stepped into the house and jumped when the door slammed shut behind him.
He looked back, saw no one closing it, no mechanism to move it by itself.
Unnerved, Remus looked closer. The door was metal and shiny. In fact, most of the house seemed
to be metal and shiny. Metal umbrella stand, metal picture frames, even some of the walls shone
with a silvery hue of metal.
The corridor he found himself in was lined with a few metal statues of Roman gladiators, and he
got the eerie feeling that they were watching him. At least, Remus could have sworn that their
heads hadn't been directly turned to him when he'd first walked in - and were all statues so
frighteningly life-like?
"Remus," Windstrum popped his head into the corridor, "stay close to me."
Remus nodded and hurried to his teacher, who stood at a diverging corridor.
"This way."
Remus followed him. "Professor, what's going on with this house?"
Windstrum glanced at him briefly. "Cassus has a… fascination with werewolves. It's a long story.
But consequently, he's filled his house with silver and has all sorts of enchantments around the
place, in some silly attempt to actually detain a werewolf. I've heard he even wears silver plates
under his clothes."
Remus frowned. "Silver doesn't stop werewolves at all. That's some Muggle fairytale nonsense."
"Well, of course it is, but we can't exactly tell him that. It might put him into shock. He's clearly
hedged all his bets on silver being even remotely dangerous to one such as yourself."
Remus sighed, for perhaps the hundredth time over the last day or so.
They walked into a living room of sorts, although it didn't resemble any place Remus could
imagine a person comfortably living in. Aside from some armchairs, which admittedly did look
somewhat luxurious, the room was barren of color apart from Cassus' beloved silver, and devoid of
any other personal touches. Except for more statues, of course. Those had managed to persist into
the room, ahead of anything like a rug or a fireplace. Even in here, Remus felt sure those metal
faces were watching him, following his progress into the room.
Cassus sat stiffly on one armchair and Caradoc lounged on another opposite him. Cassus waited
until Remus and Windstrum were seated too before glaring at each one of them in turn, finally
settling his gaze on Caradoc. "If you've come to arrest me again, Auror, I will be most displeased."
Caradoc waved a hand dismissively. "What's a few arrests between old friends, really, Cassus? I'm
sure we've moved past this long ago."
"I spent six months in Azkaban."
"Yes, well that is regrettable."
"I wanted to die."
"Most regrettable indeed. Now, with that in mind, I actually have good news for you, Cassus. I'm
not here to arrest you again."
Casssus' cold expression didn't change.
"Please contain your excitement, old boy. No, I'm really here to ask for a favor."
Now Cassus' eyebrows rose on his lined forehead, disbelief etched into his face. "You want me to
do you a favor? After you chased me halfway across the country just to put me in a cell?"
"Yes, but it's a very small favor, if that makes any difference. All I want is a name."
"Ask your question already so I can get on with saying no," snapped Cassus.
"Very well." Caradoc leaned forward. "There is someone in the Ministry, close to Eugenia Jenkins
herself, who is working with Voldemort. A man. What is his name?"
Cassus' eyes bore into Caradoc's, and he didn't move for a few seconds. Then, quite suddenly, he
lifted his arm and pointed back the way they'd come. "Out. Get out of my home right now, Auror."
"Cassus-"
"Even your being here could threaten my life, do you know that? They could be watching my
house, for all I know. If they even suspect that I gave you information, I will be tortured and killed.
Leave at once."
Remus glanced unsurely at the other two. Windstrum kept his face impassive.
Caradoc hesitated before pressing. "Allow me to rephrase. I want to make a deal more so than ask a
favor."
"What could you possibly have to offer me?" Cassus spat.
"Well, most notably, I won't arrest you here and now for conspiring with Death Eaters."
"I haven't conspired with a soul!"
"Suspectedly conspiring, then."
"Who 'suspects' me?"
"I do. And that will be good enough for the Dementors."
Cassus' face paled and his eyes widened.
Windstrum quickly cut in. "We don't want it to come to that, of course. If you give us the name
we're looking for, we can arrange twenty-four hour protection from the Ministry - Caradoc is an
Auror, while I am well-connected-"
Caradoc hid his snigger in a sneeze.
"-so we can guarantee your safety, if you cooperate with us. We're not the bad guys here, Cassus.
We just want to keep everyone safe - yourself included."
It was clear to Remus, then, that the entire conversation had been rehearsed - or at the very least,
Caradoc and Windstrum had done this before. This routine simply seemed far too polished. Cassus,
at any rate, didn't seem to twig that he was being played.
"Yes, that's quite right," said Caradoc. "What's more, we have with us a werewolf."
Cassus' eyes found Remus once more, and the hairs on the back of Remus' neck rose. "You're
offering me your werewolf?"
"Yes," said Caradoc swiftly. "He's all yours."
"You know I'll kill him, correct? It is still legal in Britain to kill werewolves once they have
transformed. I'll store him for two weeks and I'll kill him."
"Kill away, my friend," Caradoc said, smiling good-naturedly.
Remus gaped at Caradoc and then snapped his head to stare at Windstrum, panic seeping into his
belly, but Windstrum didn't even glance at him. In fact, he looked completely relaxed about this
turn of events.
So, Remus supposed, this must be why they had wanted him along on the trip. But was it just a
ruse? Well, of course it was a ruse… it had to be a ruse. What would Dumbledore say if
Windstrum returned to Hogwarts without him? No, it was definitely a ruse, and Remus would just
have to trust them.
Under Cassus' gaze, Remus suppressed his emotions and sighed resignedly, looking down at the
floor.
After a few more seconds, Cassus laughed suddenly and Remus looked up, watched him nod and
rub his hands together. "Very well, Auror. You have my cooperation."
Caradoc nodded at him and waited.
"The man you're looking for," said Cassus, "he goes by the name Blithe. I do not know if that is his
real name, although I very much doubt it. I've never seen the man myself. I'd imagine only You-
Know-Who has, and perhaps a few select others."
"Why make it such a big secret?" Windstrum asked, leaning forward.
"Because whoever he is, he's a trusted and respected figure in the Ministry," Cassus explained, like
it was obvious. "If his identity was made known, his usefulness would dissipate very quickly."
"Trusted and respected," Windstrum repeated with narrowed eyes. "I suppose that rules out Morgan
Bulstrode."
"Not necessarily," said Caradoc thoughtfully. "Bulstrode has many allies in the Ministry."
"Yes but Euginia isn't one of them."
"We don't know that."
Windstrum stared. "You can't seriously suspect the Minister for Magic is involved? She's Muggle-
born, Caradoc!"
Caradoc shrugged. "I'm only saying we mustn't rule out any possibilities. Doing so may end up
costing lives."
"If it helps," said Cassus, relaxing into his armchair and clasping his hands over his stomach, "I
know that the interim Head of the Auror Department, Emmett Fawley, has been investigating
Morgan Bulstrode."
Caradoc stared. "That is an internal Auror affair. How could you possibly know that?"
Cassus smiled widely but didn't answer.
Caradoc frowned at him, then shook his head and stood. "At any rate, it's clear we came to the
right place. Your information actually helps our investigation a lot, Casuss. You have our thanks."
Windstrum stood too. "Indeed. We'll arrange for this house to be put under protection. I
recommend you stay inside until the morning. Now, we'd best be off. Come along, Remus."
Remus nodded and got to his feet, starting to follow them out.
Cassus narrowed his eyes and sat bolt upright. "Do you think I've forgotten our terms? The boy
stays."
Caradoc halted and grimaced.
"He remembered," Windstrum said accusingly.
"I see that," Caradoc snapped back.
"You said he wouldn't!"
"He's old, I thought it was a safe bet!"
"You lied to me," said Cassus, getting to his feet slowly. "You never intended to give me the boy,
did you?"
"Not in the slightest," Caradoc nodded.
"That's a relief," muttered Remus.
Anger boiled over Cassus' face and he lifted his hand, then twisted it sharply. As one, the metal
soldiers that lined all the walls stood to attention and then ambled forwards suddenly. From the
corridors outside the room, Remus could hear all the other soldiers' metal footsteps clunking along
the ground.
"You will pay," Cassus hissed.
The soldiers quickly had them surrounded them and advanced with their arms raised like zombies.
Remus, Caradoc and Windstrum gathered together and faced outwards with their backs to each
other, eyeing the growing army with a wary grimness.
Together, they took out their wands.
The Common Room was empty. Lily sat in front of the fireplace and leaned against an armchair,
her Charms book propped against her knees.
It was getting late, but she'd always found that she worked best with absolutely no one else around -
just her, the fireplace, and a book. No room, time, or patience for any other things to distract her.
"Alright, Evans?
Lily closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the armchair. "Go back to bed, Potter.
Really. I don't want company."
He joined her on the floor, grinning, and leaned against the armchair opposite. "What if I tell you a
funny joke?"
"Does the punchline involve you going away and leaving me alone?"
"No, but it might cheer you up a bit."
She sighed. "I don't need to be cheered up, I need to be left alone. Particularly by you."
"Are you still sore about last week?"
"You mean how you asked me out like a prat, got on my nerves like a prat, and then turned around
and got with one of my best mates like a prat?"
"I thought you might be upset about that."
She laughed scornfully. "Of course I am. I'm sure that's why you did it in the first place though, as
some ill-advised attempt to make me jealous. Did you really think it would-"
"I'm sorry, Evans."
She stopped and narrowed her eyes, confused and annoyed.
"Really, I am. I was a prat, you're right, and I'm not ready to date you the way I am." He ruffled his
hair and grimaced. "And I realize how me turning to Alice immediately after you turned me down
might rub you the wrong way."
Lily folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.
"I didn't want it to bother you - I wish it didn't affect you at all, honestly, Evans. It wasn't supposed
to have anything to do with you. But I guess it was always going to." He sighed. "I suppose I just
want to apologize for this whole mess I've made of things."
She wrinkled her nose, feeling some of her anger fade a little bit. "You tend to apologize to me a
lot."
He laughed. "Yes, well I imagine it will be something of a constant over the course of our
friendship."
"Friendship?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Evans, we've been friends quite a few times now. Admittedly, all of those times have ended with
me doing something stupid-"
"Ah, yes, this does sound familiar now."
He snorted and gave a wry smile. "But our current friendship started a few seconds ago, when you
forgave me."
"I forgave you?"
"Yep."
She tilted her head and looked at him for a few seconds. Then she sighed and shrugged. "Alright."
Cassus didn't look particularly enthused that his statue collection was now nothing but rubble and
bits of little metal body parts strewn about his living room floor. He glared at them from his
armchair, and likely would have cursed and grumbled if they hadn't gagged him and restrained his
arms and legs.
Remus almost felt bad, but he was too busy cradling his left arm and wincing in pain.
Caradoc had a few scrapes on his cheek, but was otherwise unscathed. "Lift it," he instructed,
conjuring a sling for Remus' arm. "There you go. Now just be careful not to jostle it around until
you get back to Hogwarts."
"I can barely move it, let alone jostle the darn thing," Remus scowled.
"Count yourself lucky," Windstrum grumbled. "I'd much rather have the broken arm." He held his
snapped wand in his hands and stared at it mournfully.
"Bad luck, mate," said Caradoc, wincing.
"Maple and dragon heartstring," continued Windstrum, not hearing his friend. "Supple, Ollivander
said. But strong."
Caradoc patted him on the shoulder awkwardly. "We'll get you a new one from Diagon Alley in
the morning, how about that?"
"I killed a chimera with this, you know. In the alps. It was twenty feet tall and had destroyed whole
villages."
"Very impressive."
"And I killed a hydra. Exorcised a particularly nasty spirit in Nantucket, too. I've faced all manner
of man and beast with this wand, and the foe that I lost it to in the end," he said, looking up and
straight at Cassus, "was you and your statues."
"They were very scary statues, Anton."
"I'm going to punch him."
"Well you can't punch him, we're supposed to protect him now."
Windstrum huffed. "At least let me snap his wand in return."
Cassus protested weakly through the cloth they'd stuffed in his mouth.
"Excuse me," said Remus, making them turn to look at him, "you two still haven't quite explained
some of this. Why on Earth was he going to kill me? He doesn't even know me!"
Now Windstrum looked uncomfortable. "Ah, yes. Well, Cassus here hates werewolves."
"I figured."
"We should have told you," said Caradoc, not looking the least bit abashed. "But seeing as we
didn't, and you found out anyway, there's really no use dwelling on it."
Remus frowned at him. "Right. But you still haven't really answered the question."
"When Cassus was a child," said Windstrum, "he witnessed a werewolf slaughter his whole family,
right in front of him. It burst through the front door and ripped his mother's throat open. Then it
cornered his father, who was apparently screaming-"
"Quite understandable," said Caradoc.

"-and it ate him."
"Merlin," Remus said, covering his mouth.
"So, through the fear and the grief and the shock, Cassus ran to his baby brother Benny and stood
between Benny and the werewolf, holding a silver spoon out in front of him - presumably in a
desperate attempt to ward it off. And, amazingly, it worked. They say that the werewolf watched
him for a few seconds, and then quite suddenly it turned and ran."
Remus frowned. "The silver spoon actually saved him?"
"Maybe."
"Or," chimed in Caradoc, "more likely, the werewolf was just quite full after feasting on his
parents."
"That is the generally accepted theory, yes."
"But he saved him?" Remus insisted. "He saved his brother?"
"Yes," Caradoc nodded, before frowning. "The next year though, Benny was killed viciously by
another werewolf - completely unrelated."
Cassus gave a grief filled whimper from the armchair.
"That's awful," Remus whispered.
"Before you start feeling too bad," said Windstrum, "remember that he did just try to kill us all."
Caradoc nodded. "And he's dedicated his whole life to hunting down and killing werewolves. Not
even necessarily on a full moon - I've heard plenty of stories about how he holds them here until
the full moon, and then… well, who knows what he does, but I doubt it's pleasant and it is perfectly
legal."
"Even if it wasn't, the Ministry wouldn't care. As far as they're concerned, the less werewolves the
better." Windstrum looked down at Cassus and narrowed his eyes. "I really want to punch you."
Caradoc folded his arms and surveyed the frightened man. "What should we do with him now? We
still need to make sure he isn't targeted for helping us, that would set a terrible precedent for
anyone else we need help from in the future. He's also seen me asking questions with you two - if a
Death Eater found him, my cover will be blown. We have to keep him out of their hands."
Windstrum shrugged. "I say we arrange for some people to check up on him in the morning and
just leave him here for now. I'm sure he can last a night by himself, and our back-up will keep a
close eye on him from there."
"Yeah," said Caradoc, "but I still don't want to risk that."
Windstrum rolled his eyes. "Caradoc, he's a grown man. I'm sure he can last a whole night without
offing himself."
"We have to either stay with him until morning," said Caradoc, ignoring Windstrum's protests, "or
we can just escort him to the Ministry right now."
Remus frowned and chimed in. "But this Blithe person is in the Ministry, isn't he? Or at least, we
think he is, right? Isn't that the most dangerous place to keep the person who gave us Blithe's
name?"
Caradoc tilted his head. "Great point. Well, Cassus, what do you think? Can we leave you for a
night?" He pulled the cloth from Cassus' mouth.
"Please don't," Cassus said immediately, his voice cracking. "The more I think about it, the more
sure I am - they definitely have someone watching my house, and they surely know you're here.
They could come to kill me at any moment, please, you can't go!"
Windstrum snorted. "Don't be so dramatic. No one's going to-"
There was a knock on the front door, so loud it carried to the living room through the two corridors
in between.
Windstrum cursed and turned to glance into the corridor, then looked at Caradoc. "You don't
think…?"
Caradoc looked grim. "Must be. I don't think Cassus has any friends."
"I'm not even going to bother correcting you," said Cassus. "But I-"
Caradoc stuffed the cloth back into his mouth, and the rest of what he said was muffled.
"I'll go round the back entrance," Caradoc whispered to Windstrum. "You get the door."
Windstrum nodded, and they stepped out into the corridor and went separate ways, leaving Remus
alone in the living room with Cassus.
Cassus looked at Remus and tried to say something through the cloth in his mouth.
"You want me to untie you, I assume?" he asked dryly.
Cassus nodded.
"I'm not going to do that." Remus saw the hate quickly flood into Cassus' eyes, his whole face. "I
know if I untie you, you will kill me, so… I'm not going to do that." He looked away then, at the
ground. "I don't blame you, though. For wanting to kill me, I mean. I'm the same kind of monster
that killed your family. Even though it obviously wasn't me personally, if put in the same situation
I would have done the same thing, I know it. Werewolves are monsters, that's all there is to it.
So… yeah."
Cassus said something indecipherable through the gag. Remus liked to think it was something
heartfelt and reassuring.
"Thanks," he replied.
Windstrum walked back in, frowning. "No one was there. Must have been some kids."
Remus wasn't so sure. "Where's Caradoc, then?"
Caradoc came bursting through the wall and hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop and groaning.
They stared and watched as a dark skinned man in a crisp, teal tuxedo walked in after him through
the new hole in the wall. He adjusted his lapel and surveyed them behind aviator sunglasses.
"I don't suppose you're here for tea?" asked Windstrum.

The man raised his wand.
"Guess not," said Windstrum, and dived to the side as a jet of light streamed by.
"Stupefy," Remus yelled.
The man put up a shield charm effortlessly and flicked his wand in return.
Remus dodged to the side. "Expelliarmus!"
The man dodged again. Remus could see Windstrum patting down Caradoc's pockets before rising
with Caradoc's wand in his hand. Windstrum straightened and raised the wand at the man just as
Remus was hit with white light and blown backwards. He hit the ground and couldn't move. He
heard grunts from around the room, and more walls being hit with things.
Then Caradoc knelt by his side and grabbed Remus' wand before rejoining the fight.
"Impedimenta!"
The man countered the jinx and sent one back at Caradoc. Remus could lift his neck. Windstrum
was sending a stream of hexes at the man. Caradoc started to match his rhythm, and the man was
being pushed back. Caradoc and Windstrum together were too much for him.
But then with a grunt from the man and a complex wand motion, the two were sent flying back
into a wall. Remus could move his arms and legs, but barely. He tried bringing himself to his hands
and knees but fell back down.
He looked up in time to see the flash of green light, and Cassus Lucio went from struggling against
his bonds to being limp in the armchair, head lolling to the side. He was dead.
"No," Caradoc yelled. He got to his feet and raised his wand, but the man flicked his own wand
again, impossibly fast, and once more Caradoc was taken off his feet.
Windstrum snarled and ran at the man, forgetting his wand. He ducked under a jet of light and
swung a punch at the face. The man blocked with his forearm and headbutted Windstrum, sending
him stumbling back.
The man pointed his wand at Windstrum at point blank range, and Remus put all his strength into
lunging forward. He grabbed his teacher's arm and yanked him back. The jet of green light
careened past, missing Windstrum by an inch, and it blasted another hole into another wall.
Caradoc ran forward then, standing by Windstrum's side, and the two pointed their wands at the
man and he pointed his wand at them. Given space and composure, Remus was sure that
Windstrum and Caradoc would be a match for the man now. He'd given them too long.
The three men stood there for a moment, eyes wide and wands raised, no one making a sound. It
was a stalemate if ever Remus had seen one.
Then, as if deciding they weren't worth the extra trouble, the man turned on the spot and
disapparated with a pop. He was gone as suddenly as he'd come.
Caradoc and Windstrum lowered their wands, panting.
"Was that Blithe?" Remus asked, his voice shaking.
"Maybe," said Caradoc. He rubbed his neck and coughed. "Or he might be working for Blithe."
They turned and looked at Crassus' body, at the fear still etched on the man's face, and then at
what was left of the room, with the holes in the walls and the metal body parts of soldier statues
littering the floor.
"What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?" Windstrum asked.
Early on Sunday morning, Blithe apparated into the underground complex of criss-crossing
corridors that comprised the Death Eaters' base of operations.
He walked quickly, as he didn't have much time.
"What an honor," said Rodolphus Lestrange, appearing by his side and matching his pace. "The
fabled 'Blithe' has come to visit at last. You should have told me, I'd have arranged a welcoming
party with pasties and pumpkin juice."
"I would say pettiness doesn't suit you, Lestrange, but I won't, because it actually suits you just
fine. It's like you were born to be an irritating git. How's your wife?"
"Bella is fine. And how is your dull, pointless job?"
"I do important work, Lestrange."
"I wonder how many times a day you tell yourself that," said Rodolphus with a cruel laugh.
"Funnily enough, it's the same amount of times a day that I talk to idiots. I'm starting to think there
may be a correlation."
Rodolphus looked at him, unimpressed. "I don't like you."
"I think I'll get over it."
They reached a small, dimly lit room with only a table and a chair in it. Lord Voldemort sat in the
chair, reading something from parchment. He looked over when they walked in, his eyes
glimmering.
"Blithe," he said in that cold, bone-chilling voice, "I assume something has gone wrong to warrant
your visit?"
Blithe nodded. "Yes, my Lord. I'm afraid Dumbledore is on my trail. Properly on it now."
Voldemort clasped his pale hands over the table. "How close is he?"
"It's hard to say. It really depends on how quickly the right person is questioned - seeing as they're
already on my trail, it could be as soon as tomorrow that it all comes out. But I think I can hold on
to the current state of things for another few months, at least."
"You had better, Blithe. For your own sake, if nothing else. Need I remind you that you are only
useful to me so long as you remain trusted by Eugenia Jenkins? So long as you have allies?"
"No, you need not, my Lord," he said, lowering his head a little. He was sure he heard Rodolphus
snigger a little from beside him.
"Very well. You may leave then, Blithe."

Keeping the anger from his face, Blithe turned on the spot and disapparated, vowing to himself
that he would make sure that Albus Dumbledore payed for his interference.
Hope and Death
October brought with it the usual grey skies and damp, muddy ground that it was known for,
forcing all but the brave or the dim to remain indoors whenever they could. Every now and then,
the sun would peek out one morning, as though reminding them all that it was still there, but it
would quickly be quashed by the clouds before anyone could attest to actually seeing it.
On a particularly rubbish Wednesday evening, Peter was sat in the Common Room getting his
bottom wholloped at Wizard's Chess by Remus. Gryffindors, despite their alleged bravery, were
not ones to brave the poor weather, it turned out.
Unfortunately for Peter, this meant most of his housemates were packed into the Common Room
and spectating his game.
"Are you going to make a move?" asked Peter's rook, looking up at him in a huff. "Or are you
going to sit there with that vacant expression on your face all night?"
"I'm thinking."
His bishop scoffed. "You've been thinking for ten minutes, boy. Just sacrifice the pawn already."
"No," said the pawn. "You need me. I'm keeping the pressure on that knight over there."
"This is boring," said a spotty-faced Fourth Year boy Peter immediately didn't like the look of.
"Bugger off then," he mumbled.
"If it helps," said Remus, sitting across from him and smiling kindly, "I think sacrificing the pawn
is your best move right now."
Peter shook his head. "Of course you would say that, it's what you want me to think."
After a few more seconds, he made up his mind and picked the rook up.
"No, you stupid boy," cried the rook. "You can't sacrifice me!"
"Don't listen to that rook, boy," the pawn called jubilantly. "Trust your instincts!"
Peter placed the rook down and Remus sighed as he responded with his own move. Remus' queen
grabbed the rook and smashed it onto the chessboard like a wrestler, stomping it down before
kicking it aside. The rook picked itself up and limped off the board, shooting a glare up at Peter as
it went.
"All part of the plan," Peter said unconvincingly. He reached for the pawn.
"You can't," piped up Lily from behind him. "You're in check, you have to move your king first."
He hesitated. "Wonderful."
"You can't move your king, either," said Remus with a grimace. "It's checkmate."
"Wait, so…" Peter frowned, "I lose?"
"Yes," snapped the rook, picking up a part of its arm that had fallen off.
"Oh." He wrinkled his nose and pushed the chessboard away. "Chess is dumb. Where are James
and Sirius?"
Remus shrugged. "They both wandered off some time ago. James left with Alice."
Peter chanced a glance at Lily, but she looked genuinely untroubled by this.
"Play again," someone called.
Remus frowned. "Don't you all have homework to do? Classes tomorrow to prepare for?"
Blank stares and blinking faces.
He sighed. "For a moment, I almost forgot what house I'm talking to."
James watched Alice write on the blackboard in big block letters.
She said each word out loud as she wrote them. "You are not a bad person."
Sirius nodded. "You're not. As the two people in this castle most invested in your happiness,
Prongs, we really need you to get this through your head."
James sat on a desk and looked at the two of them, standing side by side at the front of the
otherwise empty classroom. He blanched. "Where is this coming from all of a sudden? I know I'm
not a bad person. I don't need to be told that. Really guys, I appreciate the sentiment but there's no
need for this."
"Prewett and I have discussed it, mate. We think you actually do believe you're a bad person, at
least on a subconscious level. I certainly know you well enough to see something along these lines
is in the back of your head. I catch little hints of it often enough. The uncomfortable look on your
face when you see someone we used to bully, the newfound hesitation in your voice when you
receive a compliment nowadays, and this baffling idea that, for some reason, you don't even
deserve to go out with Lily Evans."
"Because I go out with Alice Prewett, thank you very much," James snapped.
"James," said Alice, "let's be honest, neither of us sees our relationship as a long-term arrangement
or something very serious. That's not to say it isn't real, of course. I know you, James. And Black
and I wouldn't be doing this for you if we didn't think it was necessary. Please just hear us out."
He looked her in the eyes for a few moments and she looked back earnestly. He sighed and crossed
his arms. "Fine. Let's assume you're right. What then?"
"Acknowledgement is the first step," said Sirius. "But the next step has to come from somewhere
inside you. Now, Prewett has a theory on where this all came from."
"Yes," she said. "Lily, while one of my best friends, has never been very withholding of her
critiques of you, James. Now, while most people will very rarely hear all the bad things other
people think about them, you have heard it all, specifically from Lily, on far too a regular a basis -
to the point where all those things have developed into an insecurity of yours."
"Since when did you two become psychologists?" he complained.
"Since you became as easy and elementary to read as Peter's Charms essays," Sirius said with a roll
of his eyes. "Shut up and listen."
"Neither Black nor I can simply lecture this insecurity to death," Alice continued. "You're going to
have to conquer it on your own. However, seeing as you're aware of it now it will be much more
feasible for you to do so. By making yourself aware, you enable yourself to control it and,
hopefully one day soon, defeat it."
James looked at them doubtfully. "That's assuming you're right about this 'insecurity' existing, of
course. Which you're not. This is all hypothetical."
"Of course," said Sirius, clapping James on the shoulder and walking to the door. "Purely just a
thought-experiment. We all know you don't have any feelings, Prongs."
James nodded approvingly. "Just as long as we're clear on that."
Sirius gave him an amused look that said he knew better though, James gave a half shrug that said
he probably did, and Sirius snorted and walked out. Once the door had closed behind his friend,
James looked back at Alice.
She was watching him with a sly grin on her face. "Now that we have the room to ourselves, do
you want to-" she wiggled her eyebrows, "-talk about our feelings?"
Not for the first time, it occurred to James how incredibly attractive she had really been all these
years. He smirked and pulled her to him. "I thought you'd never ask."
Severus felt nerves writhe around in his stomach like a school of piranha, flocking onto that brief
flaring of hope inside of him and descending upon it with an undiscerning viscousness. His hope
was a small thing, but the kind of small that one can never truly extinguish. It was the ant that
escaped from under the boot, or the piece of paper that could only be folded so many times.
For the first time since that day by the lake, when he had said that word to her and he'd thought it
all to be over, Severus felt there was a real chance that Lily Evans was ready to forgive him. A
chance that they might soon be friends again, real friends, and he could reconnect with the only
person he'd ever truly connected with.
He stood at a window on the east tower of the castle and looked out onto the grounds. There were a
few idiots splashing about in the puddles that collected along the path to the Quidditch Pitch.
Gryffindors, no doubt. Severus' gaze drifted further along, to a little alcove of trees just shy of the
Forbidden Forest. They weren't very tall trees, nor were they particularly pleasant looking. Because
of this, and also in part to its proximity to the forest, it was a spot that very few students frequented
in favor of the lively and social scene by the lake and the tree on a sunny day. It was, therefore, a
spot that Severus held in high regard.
He took Lily there in their first year. He'd found the spot a few days beforehand while prowling
about the grounds, and had instantly taken a liking to it. He remembered with a silly grin how
scared she'd been at first.
"It's so close to the forest, Sev," she had said, tugging on his sleeve. "Professor Dumbledore said
not to go there!"
He'd told her to relax. It was perfectly safe, and far enough from the forest not to get them into any
trouble.
There was a surprise waiting, of course. A picnic blanket, with a few platefuls of her favorite meals
(french toast, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream) with a few books stacked to the side, just for safe
measure (A History of Magic, Magical Drafts and Potions, and The Standard Book of Spells,
Grade 1 - her favorites). She'd gasped when they reached the spot, clapped a hand over her mouth
and looked at him with wide green eyes. It was an image he knew he'd never forget. They had a
great time that day, and many other days in the same spot.
In Third Year, after her first ever date with a boy (Isaac Barnes, a Ravenclaw with surprisingly
little brains) had gone terribly, they had sat on the blanket in that little alcove of trees, and he'd
convinced her that it really wasn't the end of the world, as she was beautiful, and smart, and plenty
of boys would always be scrambling over one another just to make her smile. And she did smile at
that, with a little more help from some food (french toast, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream) and
some books (A History of Magic, Practical Household Magic, and The Standard Book of Spells,
Grade 3 - her favorites). She'd smiled widely, and it was mesmerizing. Severus knew he would
never forget that, either.
Every time they would go to that spot, they would talk and smile and be Lily and Severus, away
from everyone else, away from her increasingly disapproving friends or his housemates' growing
penchant for nastiness, and all that mattered was what they thought, or wanted, or felt - it was
just their time. Severus could remember every single one of those days in perfect detail.
Those many sunny afternoons spent with her were the brightest parts of his memory, and soon he
might get it all back. After weeks of hard thought, Severus had made his mind up.
Come Saturday, he would invite her for a walk. She might hesitate, but they had grown more than
cordial over the last month and he felt sure she would agree. She wouldn't immediately realize
where he was leading her, but once she did, it would all come together. The blanket, the trees, the
afternoon sun, they would have their moment away from all else once more.
Spending that afternoon together, just like they used to, would be the spark to finally reignite what
they had, after months of Severus stacking a grudging yet budding friendship over the smouldering
flames.
He turned away from the window and walked down the corridor with a spring in his step.
The hope flared in his chest once more, growing steadily, refusing to allow itself to die.
At night, Sirius wandered about the dark corridors of the castle, grinning to himself for no
particular reason other than grinning being a fun thing to do.
It was well past the time students were permitted out of bed, which Sirius suspected was the reason
he was enjoying himself so much. It was quite fun anticipating when he would bump into a Prefect
or a teacher on patrol. He hadn't done nearly enough antagonizing lately.
The Marauder's Map was in his pocket, but he didn't look at it as he felt that would be cheating. He
didn't light the way with his wand, either. It was pitch darkness, just the way he liked it. Aside
from walking into a few walls, he found that not being able to see a thing only added to the fun.
It was getting colder the further he walked, and the darkness was somehow getting darker. He was
on one of the lower floors, he guessed. He couldn't really tell, and he wasn't too bothered, but-
"Is someone there?"

Sirius froze.
He couldn't place the voice. Was it a boy or a girl? A ghost or something else entirely? Something
about it made his lips dry and fear grip at his heart. He could almost hear it beating in his chest,
and vainly urged it to quiet down before it gave him away.
"I can see you," came the voice, closer now.
Sirius' eyes widened. There was no way. No person should be able to see in this darkness.
An idea sprang to his racing mind and he acted on it immediately.
He closed his eyes, his body stretched and squeezed and contorted, and Sirius became a dog
without making a noise.
"Oh… you're gone. How curious."
Through a dog's eyes, there was a shape discernible through the darkness. Or maybe there wasn't. It
was a scent. No, not a scent, either. A… presence.
As Sirius tried to focus on the presence, it faded. Soon, it was barely even there anymore. He
counted to ten in his head, and then turned the other way and bolted, careening down corridors as
fast as a dog's legs could take him.
He stretched, squeezed, and shifted into a human, stumbling along the ground.
"Lumos." There was no one around him. An empty corridor, with a broom closet to his right. He
got in the broom closet, and closed the doors behind him.
He stood still, panting quietly, and listened for any sounds outside the broom closet.
Something touched his shoulder and he cursed, whirling around with his wand raised. He stared at
a fallen broomstick and let out a breath. He was alone in there.
Sirius reached in his pocket and took out the map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Lines appeared over the map's surface, criss-crossing and flourishing into the perfect map of
Hogwarts that he and his friends cherished so dearly. He scanned all nearby corridors, looking for
a name, an answer. The only name in the area was Sirius Black, hunched in an empty broom closet.
He frowned and rested his head against the back of the closet. It didn't make any sense. The map
never lies.
Could the voice have belonged to a portrait? A portrait with particularly good eyesight?
No, he had seen something. There was something there. Whatever it was, it didn't have a name or
identity, otherwise it would be on the map. But it was there.
It couldn't be a ghost, as even their names should show up. Sirius' eyes trailed over the map, eyeing
Nearly-Headless Nick, or Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington as the map had him, idling around
Gryffindor Tower, and he glimpsed Peeves somewhere in the East Wing.
As he searched the map his mind wandered, and all thoughts of this mysterious encounter were
forgotten abruptly when something distracting caught his eye. In a corner of the map were a
handful of names gathered in one of the dungeons, names that Sirius recognized at once.
Regulus Black, Prentice Travers, Egan Mulciber, and Severus Snape.
Anger filled Sirius quickly, consuming his thoughts.
For four years, Snape had stayed away from his younger brother, knowing well enough to leave
him be. Now the slimy git was reportedly recruiting Death Eaters, and looked to be getting his
greasy fingers on Regulus?
If Remus were there he would tell Sirius to calm down, he knew. Peter would stay out of it. But
James would happily go along with Sirius to bash all their heads together. Or at least, he would
have, not too long ago. These days Sirius could never properly predict what James would do.
One thing was for sure, though. He had explicit permission from Dumbledore
to… investigate potential Death Eater activity in the castle. Granted, Dumbledore had specified not
to do so after hours but, seeing as Sirius had long since broken that rule, there was no use in letting
that stop him.
"Mischief managed."
He left the broom closet and took off down the corridor, cold anger giving fuel to his pace. When
he reached the dungeons, he double-checked the map, saw that they were all still there. Voices
carried over to him, and Sirius crept along the wall, stopping before the entrance,
"We don't need an answer immediately," came Snape's voice, sounding authoritative. "Think it
over for a couple of weeks. Before Christmas break, let us know if you're in or not. No later than
that, I'm afraid."
"Alright," said Regulus, not sounding frightened at all but not quite excited either.
"No later than Christmas, Black," repeated Travers uselessly, in a poor attempt to match Snape's
tone.
"I heard him," said Regulus with ice in his voice.
"You show promise," said Mulciber. "And you come from noble heritage. I don't think you'll
disappoint us."
"I couldn't care less about disappointing you. And my heritage has nothing to do with my talent."
"Watch your tone, Black," jeered Travers. "We are your-"
"Travers," snapped Snape, "go stand in the corner over there until we've finished talking."
"What?"
"Now. I won't ask again."
"What?"
"Travers, really," sighed Mulciber. "Just go stand in the corner."
There was a pause, before grudging footsteps on the stone floor rang out.
After a few seconds, Snape spoke again. "We only want you if you're dedicated, Black. If not, don't
bother. What we're doing here isn't for the faint of heart, and we can't afford to have someone who
will squeal to the Aurors at the first available opportunity."
"Understood."
"Do you? Do you understand?" Snape pressed. "I need to emphasize, Black, that your mind needs
to be entirely made up."
"Yes, I understand," said Regulus testily. "I'll give you my answer before Christmas."
After another silence, Snape eventually sounded satisfied. "Very well. If you have any remaining
inquiries, arrange a meeting with me in a subtle, untraceable manner. Make sure not to speak of this
to anyone else. If anyone expresses interest, direct them to me."
"Of course."
A brief silence, before footsteps drew close to Sirius and he ducked back into an adjacent room and
leaned against the wall. He glimpsed the back of Snape's head as he passed the room, and let out a
breath as the footsteps retreated.
"Travers," came Rosier's voice, sounding annoyed, "get away from the damn corner, we're
leaving."
"Is Severus still there?" asked Travers, his voice sounding muffled and bringing a slight tilt to
Sirius' lips.
"No, you idiot. I just said, we're leaving."
Travers harrumphed, and spoke clearly now. "That Snape sure has-"
"Just shut up. Please. Let's go."
Sirius watched the backs of their heads streak past the room. Regulus wasn't with them.
He left the room once their footsteps had faded, and walked into the dungeon.
Regulus was sitting on a desk, looking lost in thought. His head snapped over to Sirius when he
walked in, and his eyes widened. "Sir- Sirius?"
Sirius leaned against the doorframe.
"I should punch you," said Sirius, eyeing his brother with contempt. "Right on the cheek. Then
maybe kick you on the ground a little bit."
Regulus seemed perfectly used to Sirius' threats, still merely looking surprised at his sudden
appearance. It occurred to Sirius that they hadn't been in the same room, he hadn't looked upon his
brother's face, in almost a year. The way Regulus gazed at him with wide eyes reminded Sirius of
the four-year-old boy he had played with in the garden and wrestled on the carpet. Countless
broken vases and promises not to tell their mother, sugar-filled nights of Chocolate Frogs and
comparing cards, hours spent theorizing where babies come from and being disgusted by books on
anatomy.
"What are you doing, Reg?" he asked softly.
Regulus didn't seem to be sure. "Being a good son."
"Why?"
"One of us has to."
"No," Sirius said fiercely. "Neither of us has to. They're mental, Reg. You must know that. You
must know what they believe in is cruel and wrong."
There was a little more strength in Regulus' voice. "That's your perspective."
"And it should be yours, too. We have the same upbringing, for Merlin's sake! I know you're
having doubts."
"That's where you're wrong," said Regulus, his voice hardening more and more. "Because you've
always been rebellious, you've always gone against Mother's wishes, I've been the one to fill the
void to Mother and Father. I've been their son, and I'm going to fulfil their expectations of me,
Sirius."
"Regulus, I'm begging you. Please. It's not too late, you can still turn away from it all before you
get people killed - before you get yourself killed! Let me help you, just come with me to
Dumbledore's office and-"
"Dumbledore," spat Regulus, laughing humorlessly and shaking his head. "And then I suppose
we'll run off to James Potter's house and play a game of backyard Quidditch? Wile away the years
until the Dark Lord comes to kill us all? No, Sirius. The sides have been chosen."
Sirius stared at him. He didn't look like the same Regulus he'd grown up with anymore. The
expression on his face was more reminiscent of a Rosier, or a Mulciber. "That's how it is?" he
asked quietly. "The sides have been chosen, Reg?"
"Go back to your Common Room," Regulus muttered, looking away.
"We'll meet on the battlefield. You know that, right? What will you do then?"
"I'll do what I have to."
"You'll kill me?"
"If I have to."
Sirius didn't know what to say to that. Hearing those words from his brother made him weak,
almost made tears break away from his eyes. He didn't let them, though. He kept his gaze cold.
The last time Sirius had cried he'd been a fifteen-year-old boy, beaten bloody by his father, blasted
off the family tree by his mother, and running off with a suitcase and his wand. This boy in front of
him wouldn't have the honor of reducing him to that.
"Let me tell you something in return, then," Sirius said in a flat voice. "When the time comes, if
you come after me or any of my friends, I'll do what I have to. Without hesitation. You don't
deserve that from me anymore."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode out of the dungeon, not paying attention to the
turns he took and the corridors he found himself in as he walked.
He couldn't think of anything. His brain felt dead.
There was a broom closet near him.
Sirius walked up to it and looked at it for a moment. Then he plunged his fist through the wood
with an incensed cry of rage.
A high pitched voice shrieked from inside the closet and Sirius stumbled back in surprise. "We're
being attacked, Brian!"
"Get off me," yelled a gruffer voice.
The closet doors burst open and two Fifth Years stumbled into the corridor with wide eyes, their
clothes loose, their hair ruffled, and a bit too much of their skin exposed. They looked around
rapidly before their gazes settled on Sirius.
"You're Sirius Black," said the boy, the alarm on his face turning into mild surprise.
"Yes, sorry about that," said Sirius, rubbing his neck. "Didn't mean to, er… alarm you."
There was silence before the girl tilted her head. "So, did you want to join us or something?"
Sirius blanched. "Is that the sort of reputation I have?"
The two looked at each other, shrugged, and looked back at him. "Yes," they chorused.
"No, I don't want to bloody well join you. And have you noticed you're barely dressed?"
"I certainly noticed you've been looking," the girl said accusingly.
"Yes, I apologize for finding your exposure unusual," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Get back to
your Common Rooms before I find someone to give you a detention."
He started walking off.
"But you're Sirius Black," the boy called after him. "You don't care about the rules."
Sirius snorted to himself. Just then, he was regretting breaking curfew entirely.
In the morning, Marlene fell out of her bed. This was not unusual in the slightest. In fact, she had
clothes and cushions strewn about the side of her bed specifically for when she fell out of it, and so
it felt like falling out of one bed and right into another, albeit a bed that was uneven, significantly
less comfortable, and tended to wake her up. The falling part also tended to wake her up.
She yawned and got to her feet, rubbing her eyes and peering at the time piece on her bedside table.
It was eight minutes past ten, and she was very late for Potions. Being late wasn't new, nor
particularly troubling to Marlene - especially not for Potions.
Taking her time, she hummed to herself as she put on her uniform, sang to herself as she applied her
make-up, and smiled at herself in the mirror, because she looked absolutely gorgeous.
She picked up an empty bookbag and strolled down the stairs to find the Common Room filled to
the brim with what must have been the entire Gryffindor House, all lolling about in jeans and
sweaters and pyjamas.
Marlene dropped her bag and pursed her lips. Now this was most unusual.
Lily and Alice were sitting in a secluded corner of the room, if it could be called that. There were
still a handful of others around them, lounging about, but it was as secluded as the Common Room
could really get at times like these.
Marlene stalked over to them, eyes narrowed. "It's definitely not the weekend yet. I would have
known."
Alice grinned at her. "Classes are cancelled. Potentially for the whole day. We're not even allowed
outside our Common Rooms."
Marlene frowned. "What?"
"McGonagall was here at seven in the morning," Lily explained. "Guarding the portrait hole,
making sure no one left. She instructed the Fat Lady not to let students through at about nine and
sealed the portrait hole behind her, then she went off to help."
"Help what? Has there been an attack? Are there Death Eaters around?" Marlene gasped. "Is it
You-Know-Who?"
"No," Alice giggled. "Professor Kettleburn messed up. He let a creature get loose last night and it's
been prowling the corridors since. Apparently it's so dangerous that we're all on lockdown. Isn't it
great?"
Marlene stared. "So no classes?"
"No classes."
"Wow… that is great."
Lily rolled her eyes. "Well I think it's a nuisance."
"Of course you do," Marlene smirked.
"It's a nuisance and it's dangerous. A few students were already out of bed before seven, you know.
They could have been hurt if McGonagall hadn't found them in time."
"So what kind of creature is it?"
"No one's completely sure," said Alice. "McGonnagal didn't even know. Liza Clarke was one of
the students that left the Common Room early in the morning, and according to her it was a
banshee."
"But she later admitted to not being entirely sure what a banshee is," Lily added.
"I think it's a sphinx," said a boy sitting to Alice's right.
"Daryl, you said you think it's a dragon not ten minutes ago," said Lily, looking tired. "Stop
weighing in on this."
Daryl looked away sulkily.
"James reckons he can get past the Fat Lady," said Alice, smiling. "He wants to take a look at it."
"Yes, well 'James' reckons he can do just about anything, so that comes as no surprise," Lily said
with a roll of her eyes.
Alice made a face that suggested she'd eaten something unpleasant and looked away. "Okay."
Lily cleared her throat and looked at the ground after a moment, her lips pressed together tightly.
"Well," said Marlene, getting up, "I think I'll leave you two to it, shall I?"
She walked away from them, feeling something between irritation and exasperation towards Alice
and Lily. For close to a month now, the subject of James Potter had generally been an
uncomfortable one around them. Despite Lily having made up with the bugger himself weeks ago,
sinking once more into an amiable dynamic between the two, the dynamic between Lily and Alice
was still left somewhat… frosty.
Marlene supposed she couldn't exactly blame them - how could it not be like that, after everything?
There was really no other possible outcome, and this was quite likely the best-case scenario.
Regardless, it left Marlene short of any sane company.
"Good morning, McKinnon," said Sirius Black, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the
stairs going up to the boys' dormitories. "Fancy a chat?"
"Black, if you're trying to come onto me again-"
"Nothing of the sort, oddly enough. No, I genuinely just want to chat."
Marlene narrowed her eyes and reluctantly followed him up the stairs. The dormitory was as messy
as she expected, perhaps even a little messier, but not by a whole lot. She had certainly expected it
to smell much worse than it did.
Sirius walked over to his bed and sat on it. Marlene pointedly sat on the next one over, James'
judging from the Quidditch notes scattered over the covers.
"Now, you must be wondering why I brought you up here."
Marlene never had much time for the obvious, and it must have shown on her face.
"I promise you, it's for a good reason," he added hastily. "I- This isn't easy to talk about, mind you,
McKinnon, so you'll have to bear with me - I was out late last night. I'm pretty sure I ran into
Kettleburn's creature at some point, which was terrifying and definitely not a dragon, that rumor is
way off. Unless it's some dragon I've never heard of, because, you know, it fits into a corridor and
speaks English-"
"You spoke to it?"
"Yes, it was very unsettling. Well, it spoke to me. Anyway, that's not the point. While I was out, I
bumped into Regulus with Snape and Mulciber."
"Regulus Black?"
"No, Regulus Dumbledore."
"Just making sure, Black."
"Yes, Regulus Black. Snape was talking to him, recruiting him. To be a Death Eater, that is. And
I'm pretty sure he's going to say yes."
Marlene watched him carefully. "This isn't much beyond what we already suspected," she said
slowly. "Have you told Potter? Anyone else?"
He shook his head. "I will. But I… look, do you remember how I tried coming onto you that time-"
"And I promptly rejected you and you proceeded to avoid me for a month, yes."
"Right." He shifted. "Well, there's a reason I asked you out, McKinnon. I like you."
"The answer is no."
"I'm not asking anything. I'm just saying I like you. And I mean as a person, not necessarily as a
partner or a lover-"
"This is gross."
"-but just as a person to be around. So I figured why not make out as well, right? But you rejected
me, so I got over it-"
"After a month."
"-and now I see the value of keeping you around. We mesh well."
"There will be no meshing in this dormitory today, Black."
"I want your advice," he said, looking at her with a genuinely troubled expression. "What do I do?
Should I report it to Dumbledore? Remus would want me to. Peter wouldn't say much. And James
would take this as an excuse to break Snape's teeth, and he's been doing really well at restraining
himself lately and I don't want to ruin that for him. Help, Marlene."
She looked at him appraisingly. Who would have thought that there was more to Sirius Black than
rugged good looks and a troubled childhood?
"What do you want to do?" she asked quietly.
"At first I wanted to help him. After talking to him, I realized that's not going to happen. Now I just
want to stop him, all of them, by doing whatever is necessary."
She nodded. "Then we'll do that. All of us. You talk to your lot, I'll talk to mine. We'll all meet.
Dumbledore told us to keep an eye on the Slytherins and intervene when necessary, so that's
exactly what we'll do."
A grin broke out across his face. "See? You're a fantastic addition to the people I keep around me.
You're great for me to talk to, and we mesh."
"No meshing, please."
"Maybe it's a feminine touch that I needed in my life," he said thoughtfully. "Whenever I spend
time with other girls, we don't do a lot of talking, if I'm being completely honest."
"And there's my limit," Marlene nodded, getting to her feet. "So glad we could do this, Black."
"You sure you don't want to stick around and cuddle?"
"Quite."
"Aw, McKinnon, you could at least give a reason."
"I'm not looking for a relationship."
"Why not?"
She didn't answer that one. She just waved vaguely over her shoulder and walked out.
It was a banshee that was loose in the castle.
Silvanus Kettleburn knew this because he had been the one to let it loose. Well, he didn't like the
way that sounded. He hadn't 'let it loose'. That implied this whole thing had been intentional. It was
not.
Admittedly, he had brought a banshee to school. According to Professor McGonagall, that was his
first grievously stupid decision. His first grievously stupid decision in regards to this whole affair,
at least. In the grander scheme of things, he had made countless grievously stupid decisions, many
of which McGonagall had called out in much the same fashion.
That was all moot, of course.
His second decision, which reportedly 'flummoxed' McGonagall, and was possibly just as stupid,
had been to weaken the sedation and allow the banshee to wake up. Professor Kettleburn had never
had the pleasure of talking to a banshee before, so how could he not wake her
up? Professor Kettleburn, teacher of Care of Magical Creatures, having never talked to a banshee?
Ludicrous, absolutely ludicrous.
Unfortunately, the banshee sat up, opened its mouth, and screamed. Kettleburn would have died,
were it not for the earmuffs. In theory, they cancelled out all noise, but he was dreadful at charms
and so he hadn't been one-hundred-percent sure about them. It turned out he'd botched the charm,
heard the scream, and fainted.
When he woke up, his fellow members of faculty had been standing over him in his office, looking
most displeased. He remembered the scowls on some of their faces.
Professor Anton Windstrum, walking beside him, was looking at him with that same scowl on his
face.
"I really cannot be blamed for this-" Kettleburn started.
"You let a banshee loose, Professor," said Windstrum. "They can kill people with a scream."
"Not even six years ago, you were still a student here, Anton. I seem to recall you getting up to
your fair share of mischief in the day, hm?"
"I never set a banshee loose."
"Dungbombs, banshees, the point is we've all let a few things loose in our time, and pointing
fingers has never done a jot of good to anyone - not least of all the ones being pointed at."
"A banshee, Professor."
"My friend, you're looking at the trees but you're not seeing the forest! Banshees are terribly
misunderstood-"
"I'm looking at a banshee and I'm seeing a banshee."
"Yes, you've made yourself quite-"
Windstrum pointed straight ahead and Kettleburn shut his mouth when he saw the banshee.
They were coming down the stairs to the Entrance Hall, and she stood by the great oak doors
sealed firmly shut that blocked the way to leave the castle.
Windstrum summoned his Patronus, a wolf that stood tall, up to Kettleburn's waist, and looked at
him with intelligent eyes. He sent it off to Dumbledore and waited.
After only a few seconds had passed, there was a flash of light beside them and Albus Dumbledore
appeared with a crack.
He nodded to Windstrum. He'd given Kettleburn the cold shoulder all day, which Kettleburn found
rather unfair.
The banshee turned to look at the three of them. With floor length black hair and a skeletal, green-
tinged face, many people found them to be terrifying, unsettling creatures. They were undeniably
fascinating, though, and to Kettleburn, fascination equated to beauty and wonder and awe.
She smiled as she looked at them with empty eye sockets.
She'd done the same thing just before she'd screamed at Kettleburn earlier. He wasn't worried,
though. This time, Dumbledore had specially charmed swabs of cotton that they'd all stuffed in
their ears. They could hear just fine mostly, but everything louder than a speaking voice was
unable to break through the cotton.
Dumbledore and Windstrum strode forwards, their knees slightly bent and wands at the ready.
Kettleburn hobbled along after them, wincing on his bad knee.
She watched them approach, still smiling. She even watched as they surrounded her, each keeping
a reasonable distance away.
"This way comes three men, each of whom has knocked on Death's door with abandon, yet still
they walk with the living." Her voice was from another world. It didn't belong to a thing with vocal
cords or a diaphragm, she simply spoke and words leaped from her lips.
"She knows when we'll die," Kettleburn told the other two. "She sees our deaths already."
She looked at him. Kettleburn tried to look into those empty eye sockets, but saw only the abyss.
"Though pain follows you in your life, upon your end it will turn its eye away."
Kettleburn frowned. "Thank you?"
But she was already bored of him. She looked at Dumbledore, and watched him for a few seconds.
"Those who seek to master Death have only disappointment ahead of them."
His eyes widened behind half-moon spectacles, and he inclined his head and said nothing.
"You have much suffering, both behind and in front of you," she continued. "But when the time
comes, you personally invite Death to your door."
She turned to Windstrum then, and tilted her head. "You, on the other hand," her smile grew wider,
showing cracked teeth, "your suffering has scarcely begun."
Windstrum raised an eyebrow.
"You have brushed with Death without a care in the world. Yet when He chooses to take you, you
go kicking and screaming."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "You see my future, you know I suffer. Am I to assume you know
everything that is going to happen?"
She looked at him appraisingly. "The shore can be clear to the trained eye without glancing at the
murky depths."
"But you still see it?" Dumbledore pressed. "Is Voldemort defeated?"
"All things must come to an end."
"Well, we can't just wait for him to grow old," Windstrum snapped. "What about my future? Do I
ever find out who Blithe is?"
She looked at him and though she had never stopped smiling, now she looked genuinely amused,
like a joke had passed between them.
He frowned. "What? Answer me!"
"I think she is answering," Kettleburn whispered to him.
Windstrum's frown deepened. "What kind of answer is that?"
She looked away from him and her smile faded. "I grow weary of this. You all survive this
encounter, though I know not how."
She opened her mouth wide suddenly, but no noise came out. It took Kettleburn a moment to
realize she must be screaming.
Dumbledore waved his wand in a short motion, and her body quivered for a moment before it
swayed and dropped to the floor.
A moment passed while they all stared down at her. Windstrum looked unimpressed. "How
incredibly foreboding."
On Friday morning, Severus was in very high spirits. Lily had walked past him in the corridor the
previous day, after students were allowed out of their Common Rooms, and she'd smiled brightly at
him. Brightly.
He smiled to himself at the back of Potions class. He'd tried to pair with her for the task of brewing
a hiccoughing solution, but he hadn't been fast enough. It was fine. The plan he had in place was
good enough, and he only had to wait one more day.
"What are you so smug about?" Rosier asked, prodding him on the shoulder.
Rosier was not a terrible partner, all things considered. He was somewhat intelligent, and knew
enough to know not to interfere whatsoever while Severus did all the work. He did have a nasty
habit of talking from time to time, though.
"The potion is done," Severus said shortly.
"Oh, brilliant. Good show, Severus." He went back to reading a lewd magazine.
Severus let his gaze wander around the room. He found Potter and his friends, but promptly swept
over them, not wanting to spoil his mood. He focussed on Lily instead. She was talking to Alice
Prewett. Lily was smiling, oh, how Severus loved that smile, and Prewett was nodding, which was
of little consequence, and then they broke into identical grins and hugged. It seemed like
something of a heartfelt moment for the two.
Severus wondered briefly if Lily would hug him, once they were friends again. She used to hug
him. Not often, in fact only a small handful of times, but Severus could still remember how it felt.
It was like a static shock over his whole body, while a buffalo writhed about in his belly. Every
time, he had just felt so incredibly warm. Not just physically, but something in his mind, in his
heart, became warm and tepid, like a still lake by a farm on a sweltering day.
He still couldn't believe he was going to get it back. And at no cost, too. He had realized, over the
last month, that he was awfully good at secrecy. Severus didn't need to choose. He could serve the
Dark Lord and love Lily Evans, be around, be with Lily Evans, all at the same time. Mulciber and
Rosier and Travers and the lot of them would remain none-the-wiser, Lily would be appeased
about Severus ostensibly not keeping company with those fools any longer, and the whole time he
would have it all at once.
His hope bubbled and fizzled and popped in his belly, much like the hiccoughing solution had in its
earlier stages.
He stirred the potion and breathed in its foul smell. It was all coming together.
"As far as meeting places go," said Lily on Saturday morning, keeping her hands carefully folded
on her lap, "I can think of ones more sanitary."
The Gryffindor changing room wasn't actually that unsanitary. It was just a changing room, no
mess, no overbearing smell, with a blackboard that had Quidditch formations scribbled on it.
"It's the most private place there is," Frank said dismissively, surveying the blackboard with his
hands on his hips. "No one comes here without James' express permission."
"Don't wipe that off," James said urgently. "We still haven't finished going through it all."
Marlene made a face. "Again?"
"Yes, McKinnon. Again. Our first match is coming up and we're still not ready."
Frank turned the blackboard around and started writing on the other side. What do we know?
They all looked at the words for a few seconds.
Marlene spoke up first. "Snape, Mulciber, and Travers seem to be at the middle of it."
Lily's eyes snapped over to her. "What? No, Severus isn't involved with-"
"Evans," snapped Sirius. "I witnessed them discussing it."
"Discussing what?"
"Recruitment."
She scoffed. "How can you be sure? Did they explicitly say 'Hey, let's go kill some Mudbloods',
and-"
"Really hate that word," Frank muttered.
"He was talking to Regulus," Sirius said. "They said nothing explicitly incriminating, but the sub-
text was quite clear. Not to mention I spoke with Regulus in private immediately afterwards, and he
confirmed it all."
Frank nodded and wrote Snape, Mulciber, Travers, and Regulus down.
"And Rosier," said Alice. "I overheard him talking to Mulciber about meeting Snape this morning.
I couldn't get any details, though."
Frank looked at her, and there was something indecipherable in his eyes. Alice shifted
uncomfortably. James cleared his throat and Frank turned away like nothing had happened, and
wrote Rosier's name down too.
Lily had to admit, something about all of them being together was awkward. Between Frank,
Alice, James, and even herself, they had all made this needlessly complicated and uncomfortable.
But she had more pressing matters on her mind at present. "I thought Snape had changed."
"Some people never change," said James.
She looked at him hard and he looked away.
"Other people do," he added quietly.
Alice slipped an arm around his waist. No one else seemed to notice, but Lily did.
"So what do we do?" asked Remus.
Frank didn't hesitate. "We'll watch their every move. Follow them. Learn who they're talking to,
who the people they're talking to are talking to. The next time they meet, we'll be there, catch them
in the act."
The others nodded around Lily. Lily was barely listening. Anger started to boil inside her. Had
Snape been playing her for a fool this last month? Did he really think her to be that stupid? In
fairness, she had believed him. Perhaps she was that stupid. This only made her more angry.
"James, Sirius, Remus, Peter," said Frank, "I'll leave it to you four to facillitate the following of our
suspects. I know you can't tell us how, but you're the best ones for the job. Bring one of the rest of
us with you whenever you can. Conversely, the rest of us will watch anyone else in Slytherin
House carefully. Anyone suspicious will be added to the list of people to follow."
Lily tuned the rest out, so caught up was she in her anger.
When they each went their separate ways, Lily parted from Alice and Marlene, saying she was
going to the Owlery. Really, she just wanted to be alone. She was standing on a secluded balcony
on the third floor when a small, brown owl fluttered into her vision and slowed as it approached
her. She held out her arm and it perched on it before sticking its leg out to her. She pulled off a
letter tied with a red bow.
It was Snape's handwriting.
"Go to the courtyard on the second floor," she read aloud.
A few questions sprang to mind, but they were quashed by her urge to confront him. She shouldn't
go, and she certainly shouldn't go alone, her brain told her. She didn't listen.
She reached the courtyard in minutes, but it was empty when she got there. She looked around,
knowing Snape to at least be above practical jokes. There was a letter tied to a bench. It had the
same red bow on it.
"There are some cauldron cakes beneath the bench. I know how partial you are to them. Your next
stop is the portrait of Warren the Wretched on the first floor…"
She couldn't believe it. He had given her a bloody treasure hunt.
She crumpled the paper and threw it onto the ground before setting off for the first floor. She
would finish this little game of his. And he had better be there at the end when she did.
He watched her approach from a distance. Her red hair was unmistakable, swaying in the wind.
Severus glanced once more at the picnic mat, making sure everything was laid out just right.
French toast, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream, placed perfectly symmetrical on the plates. Each
plate was the same distance from each other, too. Severus had spent the last half hour obsessing
over it all - it had to be perfect. The books were stacked perfectly, of course. A History of Magic,
Witches in the Twentieth Century, and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6.
In short, it was all her favorites.
The hope was back in his belly, soaring and swooping, making him feel so incredibly alive in that
moment as Lily approached him. She was close enough for him to see her face, now. She was…
glaring at him?
"Mulciber, Severus?"
"I'm sorry?" he asked, leaning forward, sure that he'd misheard her.
When she reached him, her eyes were cold. She didn't even look at the picnic mat. "Travers?
Rosier? You're still with that lot?"
She had seen him with them at some point. Somehow, she had seen him. She must have. It was the
only explanation.
"We're in the same House, of course they'll be somewhere near me from time to time," he laughed,
waving it off.
She relaxed. "Oh. Okay, that's a relief."
He laughed again. "Yeah. Hey, look at this picn-"
"Just to be clear," she said loudly, "you're saying that you don't associate with them? You've made
your choice? Turned away from all that Death Eater business?"
He looked her full in the eyes, knowing he had to sell this. "Of course, Lily. I choose you."
She stepped closer. "Really?"
He inched forward too. "Yeah."

"This is your full honesty, Snape? Nothing else to tell me?"
"Yes, Lily," he said, smiling widely.
Her face fell. "Damn."
He faltered. "What?"
"I don't know. I was just really hoping you'd at least admit it. Then I could stay angry."
"What?" he repeated.
"I'm not even sad," she seemed to realize. "I don't feel… any sorrow about this. Maybe- Maybe I
knew it would just come to this again, but this… doesn't surprise me at all. What does surprise is
how much I just," she gestured wildly, searching for a word, "don't care anymore."
"Lily, what are you talking about?"
She suddenly seemed to remember she hadn't explained herself to him. "I know you're recruiting
Death Eaters, Snape. Right under Dumbledore's nose. You've been doing it from the day we came
back to school and you thought I wouldn't hear."
"Lily, hold on-"
"You even tried to lie." Her voice was empty, devoid of emotion.
"Lily, listen, please! I need you to hear-"
"I don't care anymore, Snape. I thought I could save you. Bring you back."
"Lily." His voice broke, and he could feel tears threaten to break.
"You won't hurt me anymore. It's over. Completely over this time. I want nothing to do with you."
"You don't mean that," he whispered, the tears starting to spill.
"Don't approach me. Don't talk to me. I'd frankly rather you not even look at me anymore."
He had known Lily to never ignore someone who was upset. Now she looked at him with those
uncaring green eyes, and that's what finally told him it was done.
"Lily," he cried, spittle flying from his lips. "Please!" Tears flowed fully done his cheeks, he was
aware of a little snot dribbling down his lip, he knew he looked properly disgusting.
She turned and walked away. "Goodbye, Severus Snape."
He looked at her retreating form until he couldn't see those fiery red locks anymore. Then, he fell to
his knees and wept even harder.
In those moments, the last dregs of his hope left him, never returning from then to his dying breath,
leaving only bittersweet memories.
Eugenia
The Fifth Year girl, Priya, waved her wand and the whiskery little mouse sitting on the table
vanished.
"Very good," said James, leaning down to inspect the table. "Almost perfect."
She frowned. "Almost?"
He picked up part of a whisker and held it to the light between his thumb and forefinger. "There is
still some mouse left."
Her face fell and she put her wand down on the desk, glancing out the classroom window with a
disheartened expression.
"Don't worry," he said, discarding the whisker and smiling at her. "It's a complex spell, and you
still have months before O.W.L's. Just keep working at it. McGonagall will have a few more
classes on this throughout the year."
She nodded and James turned to the next student, who was struggling to keep his mouse on the
table.
Sirius cleared his throat quietly and approached Priya. "Try not to flourish your wand too much
when you wave it at the end," he said gruffly, before moving away with James to the next student.
James looked sideways at him with half a grin and Sirius pointedly ignored him.
After another half hour of this, James called the tutoring session to an end and dismissed them,
feeling very good about himself as he did so. There were around fifteen students who came to his
little sessions each week now, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't look forward to it.
Sirius glanced at him as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. "You're grinning like an idiot, you
know."
"Hey," James frowned, "that's how I always grin."
"Exactly."
He rolled his eyes. "I can't help it, Padfoot. I'm in a good mood. Helping people is surprisingly
rewarding. You yourself have been getting more and more enthusiastic about this tutoring business
each week."
"Enthusiastic is a criminal over-exaggeration," Sirius said, holding up a finger and frowning. "I
add a couple of things here and there, steer them right."
"And you enjoy it," James said with a devious grin.
Sirius opened his mouth to retort and then closed it, looking forlorn. "Merlin's chest hair, you're
right, James. I've officially gotten soft. Quick, when was our last prank?"
"Last year, I believe."
His face fell. "You're joking."

"I never joke."
"You always joke."
"When everything I say is funny, what even constitutes as a joke?"
"This is no time to joke, Prongs. You've succeeded in turning us into law-abiding, Hufflepuff-
loving shells of our former selves."
"Nothing is wrong with Hufflepuffs."
"There you go again, changing everything we've built our empire on. Did you ever even care,
Prongs?"
"No. I'm a spy sent by McGonagall to topple the Marauders and bring about your personal
demise."
"I knew it."
"Sirius, I don't know what to tell you," James said, wrinkling his nose. "I don't have time to do half
the stuff we used to. Between training three new players up to a competitive level before the game
this weekend, following Snivellus around the castle, and maintaining my position as the brightest
student on the continent, I can barely fit in much else."
"I know." Sirius grimaced. "If I'm being completely honest, I don't even see much appeal in
throwing things at Hufflepuffs anymore. It seems stupid now."
James looked at him with the smallest smile but said nothing.
"Who would have thought," said Sirius, "that out of all the people to turn me away from a life of
degeneracy, it would be you, Prongs?"
James snorted. "I certainly never had."
Sirius grinned, then looked at him curiously. "You know, Prongs, in a short amount of time, you've
really done a lot of changing."
James raised an eyebrow at him.
"I mean, when your dad told us he doesn't have long left you immediately jumped on this train
of being better... y'know, maturing and what have you, and we came back to school and you had
changed a bit - easier on the teachers, more palatable for Evans, that kind of thing. But it had
seemed like a somewhat minimal effort, for lack of a better word. Then you kept changing. It was
in really small ways but I think they were really important."
"Like what?"
"You're far more," he made a face, "conscientious. More critical of yourself. More focused on what
you can do for others, and dedicating yourself to those things. You still have more than enough of
the younger you in there for me to tolerate, believe me, if anything you still have far too much of
it-"
"Nice."
"-so you're not getting boring on me or anything. I'm just amazed at how quickly it all happened."
"Thank Alice for that, I suppose."
"You're selling yourself short, mate. You did a lot of it yourself. Where it was necessary, she gave
you the extra push." He offered a genuine smile. "I'm proud of you, Prongs."
James glanced at him, touched, and clapped him on the shoulder. "I appreciate that. I appreciate
you helping me sort through it all, too. Though there's a long way yet to go, I'd imagine."
Sirius opened his mouth with a wry smile on his face, but stopped short when a low voice reached
them from the corridor just ahead that intersected theirs. They crept to the corner and stayed back,
listening.
"-I haven't given you my answer yet."
That was Regulus Black's voice, James reckoned. This was confirmed for him by Sirius tensing by
his side.
"You don't need to," came Mulciber's smooth tone. "It's merely a meeting for anyone interested.
You don't have to commit just yet."
"I'm surprised at Snape. This is unusually trusting of him."
"Only those who we are sure will join us when the time comes are invited."
"And you are sure I will join you?"
"Of course."
Regulus sounded amused. "You're right, naturally. Although I have half a mind to refuse now,
purely on the basis of you presuming to reckon on my acceptance. This notwithstanding, though, I
still have misgivings about a meeting. If we are caught-"
Mulciber snorted. "We will not be caught."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because the meeting will be during the Quidditch game. This Saturday, in the dungeons, there is
no chance of an eavesdropper or an uninvited guest happening upon us."
There was a moment of silence before Regulus laughed. "He has really thought this through, hasn't
he? That Snape."
"That he has. You might not think it possible, but over the last week or two he has somehow
become even more cold and disdainful. I have no doubt that every aspect of this meeting has been
meticulously planned, and I'm more than willing to trust his judgement."
Their voices were getting quieter, further away.
"Brilliant. All those fools will be watching their sport while we meet under their noses," came
Regulus' faint voice, filled with a smile. "Potter, Longbottom, my brother and the rest of them. All
fools. And they will die like fools."
Sirius snarled and made to lunge out into the corridor.
"Hey." James grabbed his arm and pulled. "We can't let them know we overheard this. We have to
let them meet, and when they do, we'll barge-"
Sirius yanked himself free and took half a step into the corridor. James grabbed him by the waist
and twirled him back out, hoping their quarries hadn't noticed, and pushed Sirius further away.
His friend opened his mouth but James got there first. "Silencio."
Sirius yelled, then glared when no noise came out, and James shrugged apologetically. Before
James could do more, Sirius made a quick sprint for the corridor. James dove after him, reached
for his arm and missed, grabbed onto Sirius' ankle just as he hit the ground, and Sirius tripped just
shy of the corridor and fell. James pulled him back by the leg and Sirius kicked out, knocking his
glasses off.
"Hey," he said with a frown, rubbing his jaw.
Sirius pulled his leg free and got up, but James ran forward and tackled him, and they both hit the
ground again.
"I know you just want to punch something," James growled at him as they wrestled on the floor,
"but I can't let you punch them. If you really have to then punch me, Padfoot."
Sirius punched him.
James recoiled in surprise and swung blindly at Sirius, but Sirius batted his arm aside and pushed
himself away, coming to a stop by the wall. He sat back and rested his head against it. James stared
at him, still on the ground, and slowly sat up too, pushing himself against the opposite wall.
He surveyed his friend while massaging his cheek, then undid the silencing charm. "Feel better?"
Sirius exhaled heavily and coughed, glaring at a spot on the ceiling. "I hate you."
James snorted, somewhat breathless. "Love you too, Padfoot."
Eugenia Jenkins, Minister for Magic and eater of souls, if the press were to be believed, was tired.
She never let it show, and she certainly never let it affect her work, but she was tired. Tired of the
old and cranky Purebloods who hated her for being Muggle-born, and tired of the fragile, spiteful
men who hated her for being a powerful woman. Predictably, there was a lot of crossover between
the two groups. Unfortunately, many of them were influential, well-respected individuals, whom
she had no choice but to pretend not to hate.
Respect is so fickle, Eugenia mused, as she walked through dimly lit Ministry corridors to her
office. It didn't always come to those who deserved it, nor was it particularly easy to take away
from those who decidedly did not.
On that point, Morgan Bulstrode appeared by her side and matched her brisk pace. His face was
bland, with hints of unpleasantness lurking behind his eyes and in his crude smile. "Eugenia, how
are you faring?"
"Fine," she said with gritted teeth.
"Ah, splendid. I was concerned this morning's paper might have dampened your spirits."
"You mean the two-page spread labelling me as mad and unfit for office?"
Bulstrode gave her a simpering smile. "Yes. Many have clearly taken poorly to your...
announcement, it seems."
"If those people think they can change my mind, they are sorely mistaken. Hatred towards
Muggles will be made a crime. It should have always been a punishable offence. The law must
change, and I'll make sure it happens, no matter the cost."
"You yourself are Muggle-born," he pointed out, wagging a finger. "Some might call you biased."
"And I might call some bigoted."
He laughed and clapped his hands. "Yes, very good!" Then he quickly grew serious. "But this does
raise an ethical question, my dear. You wish to police the way people think and the things that they
say. Does that not strike you as dangerous?"
"Not if the things that people think and say are dangerous."
"Your wit is as sharp as ever, I see."
"And my patience is just as short. What do you want, Bulstrode?"
They had reached her office. Jenkins was plastered onto the door, nice and simple. Eugenia loathed
over-extravagance.
"I simply wish to discuss the matter further with you," he said, spreading his hands wide and
offering a humble smile. "This is an important issue that could set a disastrous precedent. I think a
healthy discourse on the matter would go far in aiding our search for the best path forward."
She raised an eyebrow and twisted the door handle. "I see. Well, it will have to be some other time.
I have company at the moment."
He frowned. "Who?"
She opened the door and revealed Anton Windstrum sitting in the hard-backed chair before her
desk.
He glanced back at them when the door opened. His eyes settled on Bulstrode and he grinned. "Hi
Morgan."
Bulstrode glared at him with hate in his eyes. "Windstrum. I hear you have taken up employment
with that fool, Dumbledore. Let you out of the castle, has he?"
Anton shrugged. "I only graduated a handful of years ago so I didn't think I'd ever be cooped up in
there again. He doesn't begrudge me a little walk-about every now and then."
Bulstrode seemed surprised to have gotten a genuine answer. He pressed his lips together firmly,
glared once more at him, nodded to Eugenia, and stormed away with a twirl of his cloak.
Eugenia closed the door behind him. "I forget the two of you have a history," she said lightly,
draping her coat over the back of her chair and sitting down behind the desk.
"He wanted me to have your job, you know - to be the Minister. He thought I could be a puppet for
him."
"And then you left to travel the world and the job came to me," she said with a wry smile.
"Yeah. Listen, about that," he said, frowning slightly, "I would have thought that Bulstrode
would despise you for it. You're quite possibly the last person I'd imagine him wanting to become
the Minister, yet from what I hear you're quite the merry pair, the two of you."
She snorted. "Believe me, there is nothing merry about it."
"But you vouched for him," he pressed. "I did some digging, Eugenia. After you got the job,
Dumbledore tried convincing you to demote him. Instead, you kept him on as one of your advisors,
giving him a foothold in the Ministry and access to all sorts of valuable information."
Her friendly demeanor quickly evaporated. "What are you implying, Anton?"
"Eugenia, I've known you a long time. I even remember you babysitting me for your Summer job
while you were still in Hogwarts and I was but a child. You're a good person and I've always
trusted you. This is why I haven't yet arrested you."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to look me in the eyes and answer honestly."
She surveyed him for a moment, his blue eyes swirling beneath a furrowed brow, and drilled him
with a cold stare.
"Who is Blithe?" he asked, leaning forward and staring hard into her eyes.
She frowned. "Who?"
He watched her unblinkingly, appraisingly, like he was searching her face for something. She
could see gears turning behind his eyes, and she was just about to threaten him back when he
suddenly leaned away and started laughing with a relieved look on his face.
"Thank Merlin. I doubted it, of course, but I had to make sure."
"Windstrum, if you don't explain yourself immediately-"
"Morgan Bulstrode is our number one suspect of being a spy for Voldemort who goes by the name
of Blithe. Caradoc Dearborn and I have been trying to find some evidence for over a month now,
but he's covering himself up superbly. We haven't found a thing." He sighed. "Blithe could be
anyone with significant influence in the Ministry, really. Blithe could be right in front of us and we
wouldn't know it. But we suspect Bulstrode the most, and anyone associated with him - potentially,
that even included you."
She soaked in this information and didn't respond.
"It does beg the question, though… why? Why keep him on as one of your advisors?"
She looked at him critically. "The answer to that could ruin my career. I'm not sure I'm inclined to
tell it to someone who just threatened to have me removed from office."
He inclined his head. "Forgive me, Eugenia. I have simply gone to a great deal of trouble over the
past few weeks trying to get to the bottom of this. I risked my life on many occasions, and have
come far too close to death for just a clue."
"And I suppose that your suspecting of me is why I haven't heard about this mission between
Dearborn and yourself before now?"
"Indeed. Our orders are from Dumbledore."

"Does Emmett Fawley know of this? As interim Head of the Auror Department, I'm sure he could
offer some assistance."
Anton shook his head. "We cannot afford to tell anyone. No risks. I must ask of your discretion,
too."
She pursed her lips. "This whole operation sounds rather dodgy to me, Anton…"
"And your support of Bulstrode sounds dodgy to me, Eugenia."
She grimaced. "You won't overlook that, I see."
"Please," he said, "I need to know."
She sighed and leaned back in her seat. "There isn't much to know, really. But the little there is to
this story could hinder all the work I intend to do if it got out. I am counting on your discretion."
She looked at him significantly until he nodded.
"I will have to tell Dumbledore, of course. And Caradoc. But outside of that, you have my word."
She made a face. "Caradoc? Is that really necessary?"
"It is. We are partners on the investigation."
After another moments' reluctance, she gave in. "Very well, if you must. Now, it happened just
after you left England. I was campaigning, but I had very little backing and was most definitely not
going to get the job. Bulstrode approached me. Offered to guarantee that I became Minister,
provided he have a certain degree of power within my administration."
Anton frowned. "He made you Minister? Why?"
She shrugged. "He had a number of incentives. Foremostly, word had gotten out that he had tried
grooming you for the job. Rumors were circulating about him, about his prejudice and his
scheming, and he didn't have long left before he could lose the position of power he so loves.
Making me Minister quelled these rumors, while giving him even greater control than he had
before, at the minor cost of having another Muggle-born Minister in the last decade. He manages to
oppose any change I try making well enough, so it suits him fine."
Windstrum frowned and steepled his fingers. "That all but confirms it. Bulstrode matches
everything we know about Blithe. With a little more evidence, we might even be able to make an
arrest."
"Remember, this can't get into the open, Anton. If my Muggle-born supporters knew I only got
here by effectively selling my soul to the likes of Morgan Bulstrode, I will surely be kicked out. I
know this sounds selfish and tyrannical, but I am not ready to lose this position. I have already
done so much for the Muggle-born community, and there is so much more to come. Once this new
legislation to criminalize anti-Muggle sentiment passes, feel free to yell it atop the mountains."
Anton snorted. "I won't be yelling it to anyone, Eugenia. Frankly, I don't care. You're a fantastic
Minister, regardless of how you got to where you are. In a perfect world, you would have become
Minister based solely on your clear aptitude, merit, and passion, but the world is flawed and you
did what you had to do. It will be a sad day when you leave your post."
She gave him a heartfelt smile but quickly smothered it, pointing a finger toward the door. "If that
will be all then, Windstrum, you had best leave before I have you arrested for threatening me.
Don't think I forgot about that."
The others were already gathered when Alice walked into the classroom on the fifth floor the night
before the Quidditch game. They looked over with alarmed faces but relaxed when they saw her.
Frank spoke as she closed the door behind her. "Okay. Now that we're all here, we'll get down to
business. Snape organizing a meeting with everyone we need to suspect could not be more ideal for
us. This is our best opportunity to identify them all, and possibly even expose anything
incriminating. Unfortunately, the meeting is happening tomorrow morning, during the Quidditch."
"Cunning bastard," muttered James.
Alice sat next to Lily and gave her a smile before surveying the room. Peter and Remus were
sitting on Lily's other side. Sirius and Marlene sat atop desks next to where James perched on a
desk of his own. She smiled to herself as she looked at her boyfriend. A month of dating had come
as a surprise for them both. What had started as a languid attempt to fill the void that other people
had left in their hearts had turned into genuine affection and care for one another, and she found
that James Potter had quickly meant more to her than she could ever have anticipated. He was the
friend that she'd never known she'd needed, different from Frank, different from Lily and Marlene.
His easy confidence and self-assurance amplified the same qualities in her, and she knew she was
much more jaunty and nonchalant than the well-mannered and gentle Alice from a few short
months ago. In return, she knew she had done much for him, from working through his inhibitions
regarding his self-worth to preparing him for his inevitable courtship of one of her best friends.
And therein lay the problem, Alice realized. James and herself had taken to each other like gas to a
balloon, but after a point, the longer they were together the less bouyant that balloon was, running
out of gas and drifting its way down. James' glances towards Lily had grown more and more
lingering, Alice had noticed. She hadn't thought it would bother her but, crazily enough, it did - not
least of all because she knew he would be happier with Lily. In turn Alice found her own eyes
dragged, kicking and screaming, to Frank Longbottom, despite her best efforts. They had known
this was only temporary from the start, and she could tell that James was ready to move on. So was
she, for that matter.
As expected, her gaze drifted to Frank next. She felt the usual thrill and lightness in her stomach as
she studied his face, a feeling she had only recently realized had been there all this time, albeit to a
lesser extent, and she fought the familiar feeling of urgency to be close to him. He was her best
friend, though they hadn't acted like it for some time now. Was he still dating Amelia Fawcett? She
didn't know. She would have liked not to have cared either, but that ability was well beyond her
now.
"Snape knows we've been watching him," said Frank. "The timing of the meeting tells us that
much. James, Marlene and myself will be playing Quidditch, cutting our numbers almost in half. It
falls to the rest of you to handle this yourselves. Sirius will be in charge while you're-"
"Why Sirius?" asked Lily lightly, doing her best to look innocent.
Frank paused and looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"How come Sirius is in charge?"
Alice fought a smile away as Frank's brow furrowed in confusion and he scratched his head.
"Because…"
"Did you even consider Alice or myself instead?" Lily pressed.
"Yes," said Frank defiantly. "I considered you all."
"Even Peter?" Marlene asked, looking doubtful.
"Hey," said Peter slowly.
"I chose Sirius because he is a good duelist, and-"
"We are just as good if not better at dueling than Sirius," Lily interrupted.
Sirius snorted. "Not likely."
"Evans," piped up James, "it's not a big deal, stop being dramatic."
"Uh oh," muttered Remus.
"Not a big deal?" exclaimed Lily, outraged. "Not a big deal? Being treated equally is a very big
deal to me, Potter. I'll have you know-"
"Okay," Frank cut in loudly, "we're getting off topic. She has a point, so Lily will have operational
command-"
"What?" Sirius cried.
"-and that's final. Now, let's move on," Frank said, "to actually discussing a plan."
"Yes," said Lily. "But first I just want to clarify that he's putting me in charge not because I'm a girl
but because I deserve to be in charge."
"Make up your mind," Sirius protested. "Do you want to be in charge because you're a girl or not?"
"Can we move on please?" Frank asked weakly.
"It shouldn't just be because I'm a girl," Lily explained with a roll of her eyes.
"But it is!" Sirius gestured wildly between himself and Lily. "It is literally the reason Frank
changed his mind!"
"You're so close-minded, Sirius," Marlene sniggered, nudging him provokingly.
"How?"
"None of this matters anymore," Frank called, his voice strained. They quietened and looked at
him. "Snape has had a lot of time to plan this, and he will not be an easy person to get the best of.
We need to discuss what we're going to do."
Each of their expressions grew more serious, and they all slowly nodded at him and waited.
"I have a few ideas," Frank continued. "And with your permission, Lily, I'd like to outline them to
you all."
Lily nodded primly. "Very well, Longbottom. Proceed."
James was not pleased for two reasons. Firstly, his new objective was to drag the Quidditch game
on for as long as possible so that students wouldn't flood back into the castle too early. His original
game plan had been to drag out the game anyway in order to rack up as many points as possible,
but he would have likely called it a day at three hundred points or so - now that it was more a
matter of time than points, he felt he had lost some degree of control over the whole thing. His
Seeker, Smith, hadn't been plenty impressed when James had relayed this to him. James couldn't
blame him. From a Quidditch perspective, it was pretty dumb. James had given him the very vague
and very unhelpful instructions of "Don't catch the Snitch, and don't let them catch the Snitch. Got
that?" Smith had grunted and walked off.
The second reason James was displeased was due to the cause of all this trouble. Damn Snape, who
had to go and plan this meeting during the Quidditch, not only forcing James away from
interfering, not only inconveniencing James' Quidditch strategies, but also taking his head out of
the game and ruining his concentration.
The bludger came for his head and he ducked under it, feeling his hair ruffle as it passed above him
and bringing his attention back to the game. Madam Hooch blew her whistle - headshots warranted
a foul.
Marlene and Eamon O'Brien flew over to him.
"Do you want one of us to take the shot, Potter?" asked Marlene, watching him closely. "You don't
seem yourself."
James shook his head. "I was just distracted."
"Don't take this the wrong way, Potter," said Eamon carefully, "but you've been distracted all
game. Let one of us take the shot. It's what we've been training for, right?"
James surveyed the two of them. They were right, of course. He was too put-off by the idea of his
friends going up against Snape without his help. He realized that this was incredibly arrogant, as
they were all just as capable as him, but he would have felt a whole lot better if he was with them.
He wasn't with them, though, and it was affecting his game - he was letting his team down. He
expelled all thoughts of what was going on in the dungeons and nodded. "You're right. Sorry.
O'Brien, you'll take the shot. You're still a little more accurate than McKinnon."
Marlene nodded fairly, O'Brien steeled himself, and the two chasers flew off in the direction of the
Hufflepuff posts, leaving James hovering halfway across the pitch. He glanced around and saw
Frank looking at him concernedly. He gave the Head Boy a thumbs up and Frank nodded. James
looked on and found his beaters, Murphy and Walsh, further along the pitch, watching as O'Brien
hovered before the Hufflepuff posts, tossing the Quaffle in the air and catching it as he waited for
Hooch to blow her whistle. Smith was hovering far above them all, scanning every inch of air
around the pitch with an eagle's eye. The Hufflepuff seeker was hovering close to him with an
identical expression of intense concentration.
Hooch blew the whistle and O'Brien instantly tossed the Quaffle at the left hoop, as carefree as if
he were passing it at training. The keeper dove the wrong way and it sailed clean through, nice and
simple.
The crowd roared and booed in equal measure and the commentator, a Ravenclaw with a bland
voice, called out the score - sixty-fifty to Hufflepuff.
James grinned and readied himself. The Quaffle was brought back into play and he snapped into
action, blitzing to the Hufflepuff chaser. The chaser swerved out of his path and James turned at a
sharp angle to follow the chaser to the Gryffindor posts, a few brooms' lengths behind. A Bludger
came careening through the air at the chaser, hit from Murphy's bat, and the chaser swerved again,
right into Marlene, who snatched the Quaffle from a loose grip and sped off in the other direction.
James turned once more, rolling in the air with his broom, and followed Marlene to the posts. She
glanced back at him and he nodded. As she approached the Hufflepuff posts she threw the Quaffle
straight up into the air. The keeper dove too early, expecting a shot, and as the Quaffle came back
down James neared it, pulled up, and kicked out hard. His boot connected with the Quaffle with a
resounding thwak and it soared through the middle hoop, causing the crowd to erupt again.
Marlene pulled up alongside him. "Got your head in the game now?"
He grinned. "Just about."
"Good." She parted from him and turned in the air towards the Hufflepuff posts again. "Because
there's no use stressing about how the others are faring. We need you here, Potter."
He smirked. "That much is clear." She glanced at him and rolled her eyes, which only widened his
smirk. "Now come, McKinnon. Let's show the Hufflepuffs what it looks like when we're actually
trying."
"They're in the dungeons right now," said Sirius, walking back into the Common Room with
Remus and Peter a step behind him. "Let's go."
Lily narrowed her eyes. "How do you know that?"
"It doesn't matter how I know that, Evans, I simply know that."
Alice patted Lily's arm. "Don't bother, Lily dear. They never give away their secrets, no matter
what you say - not even James."
The Common Room was empty apart from the two girls and three Marauders. Lily despised that
name they called themselves. Marauders. It was so indulgent and self-satisfied. So typically
vintage James Potter. A small part of her wanted to smile at the thought. Lily hated that small part
of her. She also equally hated her constant flip-flopping between affection and loathing towards the
boy. This I like him, I like him not business was beneath her.
Not that it mattered, but at that particular moment in time she liked him. In a wholly platonic and
friendly way, mind.
"Lily?" Alice probed. "Shall we go?"
Lily shook herself a little to clear her head.
"Yes, let's wait for Lily to give us the order," said Sirius with a roll of his eyes, before setting off
for the portrait hole.
"Black," Lily snapped, "hold on. We need to discuss the plan."
Sirius turned around and snorted. "What's to discuss? We go down there, listen until they're done,
then run in and bash all their heads together."
"That is basically the whole plan," Alice whispered to Lily.

Lily glared at her.
"All I ask," continued Sirius, "is that you leave Regulus Black to me. I'll even save Snape for you,
Evans. You can go easy on him and all."
Lily fumed and clenched her fists. "I don't intend to 'go easy' on anyone, Black."
"Please," he scoffed, "we all know you're soft on him. If James did half the things Snape's done
you'd already have cursed him to oblivion!"
"Padfoot, stop being a twit," muttered Remus.
"Well, am I wrong?"
Remus looked away uncomfortably.
Lily's jaw set. "I assure you, Black, if what you are saying ever was true then it certainly isn't
anymore. Now, if you would please take the wand from out your arse, I want to discuss a few
specifics of the plan before we go charging into a dungeon full of Death Eaters - with just the five
of us, to boot."
Sirius looked at her appraisingly for a moment before shrugging. "By all means, discuss away."
She raised an eyebrow and turned to address the others. "I want to stress that we are not going in
there to start a fight. We'll just listen for any important information and then shut the whole thing
down."
Peter tilted head. "And then what?"
"And then Remus and I will hand out a few detentions, I suppose."
"That's it? We just shut it down, give them detentions, and then all go back about our business?
They're not expelled for being Death Eaters?"
Lily hesitated. "It's complicated."
"How? Who in their right mind could justify keeping them at this school?"
"Dumbledore," said Remus quietly. "He could justify keeping just about anyone here, I'd imagine."
"Regardless," said Sirius, after a long glance at Remus, "they're a danger to all the other students
here. What's stopping them from recruiting half the school for their little Death Eater club?"
"Us," said Lily. "We're what's stopping them. That's why we're doing this!"
Alice nodded. "Dumbledore entrusted this job to us. Clearly he believes we're good enough."
"Why doesn't he just call that lot to his office and talk to them about it?" Peter pressed. "He can
question them or teach them or… or something."
"Same reason he hasn't simply tracked down Voldemort and put some shackles on him yet," said
Lily. They looked at her, waiting, and she shrugged. "It's just not that simple."
Sirius sighed. "Okay, Your Highness. No violence, no expulsion, no consequences at all, really.
We'll barge in there, interrupt their meeting, and then what? Yell at them and shake our fists?"
"No," said Lily hotly, "we'll talk to them about the consequences of their actions and let them
know that we've got our eyes on them-"
"We're going to yell at them and shake our fists," Alice groaned.
"It's going to be much more impactful than that," Lily insisted stubbornly. "Coupled with their
detentions, we'll be striking a serious blow to the-"
"She doesn't even believe what she's saying," Alice told the rest of them.
"We can tell," said Remus with a grimace.
"I wish Frank were here," said Peter.
"And James," Sirius sighed.
"Okay, you lot," Lily snapped. "Let's go."
The corridors were all empty. It seemed that the rest of the school was watching the game. While
the five of them strode through the empty castle, Lily briefly wondered how Gryffindor was faring.
She could bet that James was working himself into a frenzy for not being with them. It was such a
typical thing for James to do. Once again Lily found herself smiling at the thought of him.
The dungeons were just as cold, dark, and uninviting as they always were, and each of the teens
made the unconscious decision to tiptoe their way across the damp stone floor. The walls were
lined with torches and each twist and turn and branching corridor made Lily sure a Slytherin was
waiting just a few steps away with a wand and a sick grin.
"They're just down here," Sirius whispered, coming to a sudden stop and pointing toward a
branching corridor on their left. "This leads to the large room they're all gathered in."
"We can also continue forward," added Remus, gesturing ahead, "and reach the room's other
entrance."
Lily bit her lip and nodded. "Alright. Remus, you and Peter go forward. Secure the area and then
observe the lot of them from the other entrance. Alice, Black, and I will go this way. Do not let
yourselves be seen, and do not engage before I give the signal."
Remus hesitated. "What's the signal?"
"I don't know. I'll gesture to you or something."
"What if we can't see you?"
"Look, it doesn't matter what the signal is. You'll know it when you see it, it'll be something clear
and unusual."
"Just compliment Snivellus' hair," Sirius sniggered. "That's pretty unusual."
"Shut up, Black."
"Oh, Severus," said Sirius in a high-pitched voice, "your hair is so shiny."
Alice hid a snigger in a cough.
"That's quite enough," Lily said, sending Sirius a withering glare. "Let's go."
Remus and Peter went one way, Alice, Sirius, and Lily went the other. Sirius quietened once they
had set off, which Lily was thankful for. She imagined he was being more of a prat because of his
brother's involvement with Snape, but she wasn't sure, and she didn't much care either. She had
decided to stop making excuses for people being indecent to her.
Voices reached them from further ahead, and they crept towards an archway beyond which was a
small, dimly lit hall, about the size of two classrooms. The hall held about fifteen students sitting
straight in their seats, all looking at one student in particular - Severus Snape. Lily felt a pang of
hurt or guilt or affection, she couldn't decide what exactly, but whatever it was, it was small now,
and negligible.
"-some of us have been serving the Dark Lord for many months now," he said to them all, standing
before them and surveying each one with cool, dark eyes. "We are among the many, many
followers who carry out his will, and we are the youngest of them all. Our job has been simple: to
find more of us. This is why the rest of you have been invited here today."
At the far end of the room was another entrance. It was dark and impossible to see past that
entrance, but Lily knew Remus and Peter would be waiting by it, listening in. Snape was looking
around the gathered faces with a scrutinizing expression, and Lily quickly found the faces that he
skipped. Mulciber, Avery, Dolohov, Rosier, and Travers. Those were the five who were already
Death Eaters, the five who had most likely been there that day in Diagon Alley. The rest looked
appreshensive, perhaps with the exception of Regulus Black.
"The Dark Lord has instructed us to find as many followers as possible before the new year is upon
us, and you all are the chosen few."
A Fourth Year Slytherin whose name Lily did not know put her hand up. "What would we be
doing once we join? Simply recruiting more of us?"
"For a time, yes, just like we have done until now. But a time is coming soon when we will be
needed for more than that, and it is paramount that there are as many of us as possible."
"Do you know what that is exactly?" asked a Fifth Year Slytherin boy whose name Lily thought
was Travis. "What the 'more' is that we'll be needed for?"
Snape regarded him coolly and didn't say anything.
"You'll find out when you need to find out," growled Mulciber.
Travis lowered his eyes.
"When Christmas break comes," said Snape, "we will be in touch. You might even get to meet the
Dark Lord, if you're lucky. It is a life-changing experience, believe me. Before break comes, I
expect you all to have-"
Duane Wilkes barged into the room from the other entrance, holding Peter Pettigrew by the collar.
"Sorry to interrupt, Severus. I found this lurking about outside, eavesdropping on you all."
Alice gave a sharp intake of breath and Lily clapped a hand over her mouth. Sirius stiffened up
beside them.
Snape's eyes widened on Peter and flicked quickly back to Wilkes. "Did you see anyone else?"
"No, he was alone."

"Go back," Snape said through gritted teeth, pulling his wand out. "Look again."
"Severus, there was no-one there-"
"There's never no-one," said Regulus, looking almost bored. "They'll be here."
"I came alone," Peter squeaked, but no-one was listening.
The lot of them got up from their seats, their expressions varying from panicked to determined, and
made their way to the far entrance.
"Some of you check that entrance, too," said Snape, pointing almost directly at the archway that
Lily, Alice, and Sirius were standing by.
Lily's heart stopped and she glanced at Alice and Sirius. They both looked to be at a loss for what
to do."
"You got me!" Remus Lupin came running into the room from the other entrance with his hands
up, making everyone pause and watch him. "Peter's not alone, I came with him."
The lot of them stared unsurely at him and then looked back at Snape.
Snape raised his arm and pointed his wand right at him. "Hello, Lupin. What brings you here?"
Remus smiled politely, keeping his hands in the air while gesturing vaguely. "Oh, you know. I just
wanted a change of scenery and all. Lovely place you have down here, by the way."
"He expects us to believe my brother isn't lurking around here somewhere," said Regulus, sounding
amused.
"Is Regulus right, Lupin?" asked Snape. "Is Black here, too?"
"Nope," said Remus, popping his lips like a child.
Snape smiled coldly. "I don't believe you."
"Bah, humbug."
"Kill him, Severus," said Rosier, a sick grin on his face.
"We can't kill him," snapped Mulciber. "Have you ever tried hiding a body, Rosier?"
Rosier's grin grew wider. "Yes."
Mulciber hesitated and then closed his mouth and looked away.
"I'll have to wipe your memory," said Snape, looking much calmer now. "I hope that's not an
inconvenience for you, Lupin."
"Wipe away, my good man."
"Splendid. Of course," Snape looked at him thoughtfully, "that doesn't mean we can't torture you a
little, first. And you, Pettigrew."
Peter's face paled. Remus didn't look particularly bothered.
"You see, Lupin, not all of us here have had the pleasure of torturing someone and, well…"
"Practice makes perfect," said Remus, nodding.
"Exactly! You are handling this superbly, I must say."
"Oh, it could only be due to how much of a consummate professional you are, Snape," Remus said,
lowering his hands ever so slightly.
"Keep those hands up," Wilkes said quickly, jabbing his wand in Remus' back with his other hand
still on Peter's collar.
Remus' hands went back up. "Of course, of course, how silly of me."
Snape's smile widened and he opened his mouth.
"Oh, Severus," said Remus suddenly, as if he'd remembered something important, "your hair is
so shiny."
Sirius bolted into the room. "Expelliarmus!"
Snape's wand went flying from his hand and every head in the room turned in surprise. Lily and
Alice ran in soon after him, sending jinxes flying with snarls on their faces. Some were hit by the
jinxes and fell, others scrambled about in a panic, while still others pulled their own wands out and
took aim. Remus dropped his hands and whipped his wand out in one fluid motion, disarming a
Fifth Year who had taken aim at Alice. Even Peter wrestled himself free of Wilkes' grip and
pushed himself away.
The five of them gathered in the middle of the room and faced outward at the throng of both
hopeful and current Death Eaters, wands raised and eyes alert.
There was a lull, as if everyone in the room was waiting for a trigger.
"We don't need to fight," said Lily loudly, keeping her voice steady.
"And yet," said Snape, his black eyes boring holes into the side of her face, "we weren't the ones
who started fighting."
Lily pointedly ignored his gaze.
Sirius scoffed. "You threatened to torture Remus and Peter. You started this, you slimy git!"
"Watch your tone, blood traitor," spat Travers, standing by Snape's shoulder.
Sirius changed his aim to Travers and Travers ducked back behind Snape.
"We didn't come here to fight you all, at any rate," said Lily, trying to reclaim a hold on the
conversation. "We can all just talk."
"We aren't in much of a talking mood," Mulciber said quietly.
"That's a terrible attitude to have for a meeting, isn't it?" piped up Alice.
"You weren't invited to this meeting," said Rosier. "We should just kill you all."
"We're not killing anyone," Mulciber told him, sounding annoyed.
"Look," said Lily, "none of you have to do this. You don't have to become Death Eaters, you don't
have to go to war, and you don't have to hurt anyone. It's not too late for you to turn away from all
of this. I don't know what you all think you'll gain from this, but I promise you it won't be better
than simply being with the people you love, people who love you, and enjoying life together with
others - it's not too late."
There was a small silence and Lily met each pair of eyes staring at her with an equally fierce stare
of her own.
"Now can we kill her?" Rosier asked quietly.
"No," snapped Mulciber, before turning to Snape and speaking quietly. "We can take them. There's
just five of them."
Lily could still feel Snape's gaze trying to capture her own, and she steadfastly refused to meet it.
"At the very least we should wipe their memories," said Travers, peeking out from behind Snape to
frown at them.
The five Gryffindors readied themselves, watching every movement carefully and waiting for the
tension to break.
Eventually, Snape spoke. "Leave."
Lily's gaze finally snapped to him.
"All of you, not just our… guests. Leave at once." They all continued staring at him and he sighed.
"The meeting was over anyway. And it doesn't matter what they heard, they can't prove a thing."
When the silence still prevailed, Mulciber frowned and addressed them all. "You heard him. Clear
off, the lot of you. Go back to your Common Rooms or the Quidditch game. Go on, get out."
The Gryffindors didn't need telling twice. They strode quickly out the room, ahead of the others
who were slowly dispersing, and continued at a brisk pace until they were well out of the dungeons
and strolling through the brightly lit corridors again. Only then did they let their shoulders fall and
slow breaths out.
Sirius poked Lily's arm and offered a small smile. "Yelling and shaking our fists wasn't so bad."
Lily snorted. As far as apologies for being a twit went, that was likely as far as Sirius Black was
ever willing to go.
At the end of a long week, Eugenia strode through the Ministry while fighting the temptation to
just go home. She was an important person now, and apparently important people didn't get
weekends.
Of course, there was a smattering of others who had come in for the day too, so Eugenia couldn't
pity herself too much. Ministry workers in general never had much going on for the weekend. I
should know, she thought to herself. I've been one for long enough.
The Auror Department was much less crowded than usual, with only a handful of people around.
There was no receptionist, so Eugenia walked on to see the Head of the Department. It was a damn
shame Potter had been taken out of action. Emmett Fawley was only interim Head in theory, but
from the looks of it, the raid on the Goyle residence had put Potter into an early retirement. A
damn shame indeed.
The door to the office was slightly ajar, and when Eugenia knocked it swung inwards.
Emmett Fawley and a man she didn't recognize looked at her sharply. The man had dark skin and
was dressed in a crisp pink tuxedo. He watched her behind aviator sunglasses without moving a
single muscle.
Fawley shifted beside him. "Eugenia. How can I help?"
She looked at him and smiled. "Good afternoon, Emmett. I'm just on my way to my office now,
and I thought I'd check in for your progress report on the Balfour case."
He nodded. "I left it on your desk this morning."
"Oh, brilliant. Alright, I'll leave you to it then." With another smile and a curious glance at his
friend, she closed the door behind her and set off for her office.
She had one more thing to do before she could call it a day and head home, and it would only take
a moment. She had with her a clearfile containing some details of the expenses she would need to
approve for the benefit of a man called Bronagh Douglass and his family. Bronagh had come
across some evidence with the potential to put away Tobias Selwyn, a suspected Death Eater. He
had been threatened to keep quiet lest his family be target, yet he came forward to Eugenia with the
evidence anyway, and Selwyn was currently sitting in an Azkaban prison cell. Eugenia had taken it
upon herself to ensure that Bronagh wasn't punished for his bravery and integrity, and he and his
family were currently under Ministry protection.
At the stairs to the next floor, upon which was her office, she walked past Morgan Bulstrode. She
groaned inwardly, but gave him a tight smile. He returned the smile widely and his eyes flashed as
he passed her. Once he was gone and she had reached her floor, Eugenia's smiled soured and she
repressed the urge to shiver. There was always something uncomfortable about being near
Bulstrode.
Eugenia frowned as she walked towards her office and saw the door ajar. Fawley must have
forgotten to close it on his way out. She walked in and saw nothing out of place, casting a critical
eye over every inch of the room. She briefly glanced at Fawley's progress report before shrugging
to herself and moving on to the filing cabinet by her desk. She tapped her wand to the bottom draw
and pulled open, then slid her finger along the letters until she reached D.
Eugenia pulled the folder out and placed it on her desk, and then took out the expense report for
Bronagh Douglass from the clear file she'd brought with her. She flicked through the folder until
she reached the section for Bronagh that she'd highlighted in purple, then slid the report into the
back of this section carefully. When it was done, she surveyed her handiwork and frowned.
The front page, containing all of Bronagh's new personal information, had a crease at the corner of
the page. Were Eugenia not one who prioritized precision and neatness above all else, she wouldn't
have noticed. But notice she did.
She frowned to herself. Could she have done it without noticing? The last time she had even taken
this folder out had been perhaps a week ago and she had been sure it was all clean. The look in
Morgan Bulstrode's eyes flashed in her mind again, and the words of Anton Windstrum ran in her
ears. Blithe could be right in front of us and we wouldn't know it.
Fear chilled Eugenia's bones. It couldn't be. This couldn't have happened.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned on the spot, feeling herself compressed and stretched as she
apparated. She opened her eyes and stood in a meadow. In front of her was a cottage, small and
portly.
The Fidelius charm ensured that it was unfindable and unplottable, unless Eugenia Jenkins herself
disclosed its location. And, like a fool, she had written it on a damn file.
The cottage had a wooden yellow door that usually struck Eugenia as cute when she saw it. It had
been blasted off its hinges and splintered into pieces. She stepped over what was left of it and into
the cottage.
The cottage didn't have a lot of rooms, and so it didn't take her long to see what she had dreaded
seeing. Bronagh had been strapped to a chair. His body was still slumped in it, his head lolling to
one side and his eyes wide open, whether in fear or excruciating pain Eugenia did not know. There
was blood on his cheek that was still fresh and dripping, but she barely noticed.
Past Bronagh's chair, his wife and daughter lay on the ground, their eyes unseeing and their faces
etched in fear. It looked like they had been struck down while running. She could still make out
tears visible on the young girl's cheeks.
Eugenia fell to her knees, disbelieving and sickened. After a few minutes, she began to weep.
"It's raining," Alice said softly.
James lifted a hand to her cheek and brushed his thumb against it lightly. It was only drizzling
really, but already the two of them had droplets running down their faces, soaking into their hair
and their clothes. It was cold.
"I'm going to miss you," she said. Her teeth had started chattering.
James smiled. "I'm not going anywhere. It's a small castle, really." He put his arm around her and
ushered her towards the stands, away from the rain.
She nudged him as they sat. "You know what I mean."
He nodded. "Yeah."
The wind nipped at their faces, and James half wished they had gone inside before having this
conversation. At least he had been able to change out of his Quidditch robes. They smelled when
they were wet.
"We were pretty good together, don't you think?" she asked.
James grinned. "We were damn good together." He looked at her and she had an identical
expression. Neither of them could really say they were sad. "There was just something missing."
She looked away, surveying the Quidditch pitch. "I heard you played well."
"Yeah. Three hundred seventy to one hundred sixty. I'm pretty happy with that."
"So you were stressing this whole time over nothing?"
He gave her an exaggerated look of disapproval. "Quidditch is never nothing."

"Depends who you ask," she muttered.
He gasped, and she laughed and shoved him playfully. They were quiet for a good few minutes
then, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and simply enjoying each other's company one more time.
Eventually, Alice turned to him again with a curious expression. "Are you going to go after Lily
immediately?"
James had to think about that one. Would he? Before Alice, he wouldn't have trusted himself not to
be a prat in front of Lily again. He wouldn't have been able to resist being near her, trying to rile
her up, and inevitably making her angry. Now, he felt like he didn't need to. He still wanted to be
near her, it was almost paralyzing how much he wanted to be near her, but he knew himself well
enough now, had a good enough grasp of himself, to resist. It was complex for him to think about
and he struggled to put it into words, but the simplest, albeit minimalist, way of describing it was…
maturity. In his conquest to be his best self, James knew that over the last few months he had
moved forward by leaps and bounds, owed in large part to the fantastic girl sitting next to him. But
he wasn't there yet.
"I don't think I'm ready," he said at last.
Were it anyone else, he would be unsure if they really understood that, but he knew she did.
Alice seemed satisfied with that answer and looked back at the pitch. It was properly pouring down
now, and James wasn't looking forward to the trek to the castle.
"You love her," she said. She didn't phrase it as a question.
James snorted at how indubitable that was. "Of course."

Halloween Spirit
"Are you going to the Halloween party tonight?"
As was customary every thirty-first of October, all anyone wanted to talk about was Halloween.
Granted, it was somewhat difficult to avoid talking about Halloween with bewitched jack-o-
lanterns floating about in the corridors, pumpkin for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and a swarm of
bats that someone had let loose in the castle, terrorizing every odd unfortunate student who
wandered into the wrong corridor at the wrong time.
"I'm not sure," Lily told Marlene. "I've nothing to go as."
Marlene glanced at her doubtfully as they strolled down a decidedly bat-free corridor. "There are
plenty of things to go as. I'm going as a Healer. You know that low-cut blouse I picked up from
Hogsmeade last week? I'm going to-"
"That's another thing," Lily interrupted heatedly, "all the girls seem to think that they have to dress
promiscuously for Halloween, yet the boys get to go as Vampires and Quidditch players and
Dementors. I'd like to see the guys show some skin for a change!"
''You and me both," Marlene said with a wink.
Lily gave her a look and shook her head. "We over-sexualize the whole thing, Marlene. And
frankly, I'd rather not have a part in it."
"Oh, Lily. You're no fun."
"I simply respect myself too much," she sniffed.
"You need to enjoy yourself more, you know that?"
"I enjoy myself plenty."
"You are on your way to study in the library as we speak."
"Aren't you coming with me?"
Marlene shook her head. "No, I'm much too cool."
Lily rolled her eyes.
"But I'll try finding Alice and meet up with you when you're finished. Do you know how long
you'll be?"
Lily wrinkled her nose. "A couple of hours, I should think. How about I just meet you in the
Common Room later?"
Marlene shrugged. "That works." The corridor diverged into two seperate ways ahead of them, and
they split off. "I'll see you later, then."
"See you."
Lily didn't dislike parties, nor was she opposed to letting loose. She tried to lock down on a precise
reason then why she didn't want to go that night as she set off towards the library, and came up
relatively short. She just really didn't feel like going to a party. Lily supposed that was a feeling
that not a lot of people could possibly relate to, and she wasn't quite sure how to feel about being
that weird exception.
The voice of James Potter drifted to her from further down the corridor and Lily paused, being
absolutely positive that the boy had never in his life set foot in the library, before striding towards
the sound. It came from a classroom with the door slightly ajar, and Lily stood by it and peered in.
"Lower your wrist, Benjy. Yes, that's it. Tilt it a little more."
He stood at the front of the classroom, Sirius by his side. Twenty-something students from an
assortment of houses stood before the two with their wands out, muttering to themselves and
waving them about.
"James," said a blonde girl with her hand raised, "I don't get what I'm doing wrong. The spell won't
work."
He smiled, nodded, strode towards her and watched her do the spell, the vanishing charm from
what Lily could tell, and she noted to herself that the girl's hand positioning was all wrong. James
tapped his chin for a moment before explaining much the same to the girl, demonstrating for her
how to do the spell properly before even repositioning the wand in her hand. Seeing this
unexpected nurturing side to him brought a small smile to Lily's lips, though she wasn't aware of it.
Abruptly, James looked over and spotted her, and his face lit up. "Evans!"
She rolled her eyes and fought the smile away. "Potter."
He looked over to Sirius and tilted his head. "You take over, Padfoot. I must make sure our
esteemed prefect isn't about to put us in detention for something."
"You don't think she knows about the nifflers we put in her dorm yet, do you?" Sirius called.
James shook his head firmly. "I can't imagine how she would have found out about that."
Sirius grinned and then looked away, walking to a student who had their hand up.
James shoved his hands in his pockets and walked over to the door with his messy black hair being
somehow extra untidy. "Alright, Evans?"
Merlin, he looked stupid. She again had to stop herself from smiling. "Quite alright, thank you."
"To what do I owe the pleasure, then?"
"I was simply in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd stop by."
"By neighbourhood, I assume you mean this particular corridor. Going to the library?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed you know where the library is, Potter. Surely you can't have
ever stepped foot in there?"
"Ah, but alas, I have, Evans. Know thine enemy, as they say. And you can't exactly say I'm not
studious." He gestured vaguely at the room. "I'm a tutor now!"
"I see that," she said, genuinely impressed. "Now I know who's been posting those crude and
vulgar reminders on the noticeboards."
He grimaced. "That's Sirius' work, I'm afraid."
"Tell him that we all certainly could have done without the sexual innuendos."
"Believe me, I've already given him that lecture. Unfortunately, Sirius doesn't understand
how anything can function without sexual innuendos, so my words are falling on deaf ears I'm
afraid."
She rolled her eyes and laughed, and he chuckled beside her, and after a few seconds they both
quieted and looked at each other with something perhaps akin to fondness in their eyes. Before
they were silent for too long, Lily asked the question that was all everyone else could talk about.
"So what are you dressing up as for the party?"
He made a face. "Not going."
Her jaw dropped. "You?"
"Me."
"But you always go to parties. You and Black have become synonymous with parties."
James shrugged. "I just don't feel like going to a party tonight. I know it's weird, especially from
me, but there you go. Do you ever get that?"
Her grin grew wide, far too wide, and her eyes twinkled. "Yeah. Believe me, I do."
James smiled and nodded before his expression quickly changed to a frown. "I also have a
detention tonight."
She burst out laughing. "What?"
"A Slytherin tried jinxing my Seeker so I put him in the Hospital WIng. McGonagall gave me lines
to write for an hour while everyone else is partying."
Lily shook her head at him, still smiling. "So really, you're not going only because you don't have a
choice."
"No, I really don't want to go," he said earnestly. "Only now I know McGonagall doesn't want me
to go either, and you know how much I love pleasing authority figures, Evans. I get such a kick out
of it."
She laughed again at his ridiculousness. "Potter, you are too much."
He gave her a lopsided grin and opened his mouth.
"Prongs," called Sirius, "I need your input."
James nodded at his friend and looked at Lily again. "Stick around, if you want. I'm sure we could
use another Charms expert here."
She wanted to. She knew she wanted to. "No, I really should go study now," she said with a
grimace. "I'm sure you'll do fine without me."
He rolled his eyes. "Of course we'll do fine without you. Am I not brilliant?"
"Correct. You are not brilliant." Without waiting for him to get another word in, she turned on her
heel and strode from the room, with a goofy smile staying on her face all the way to the library.
Lily stayed in the library for three and a half hours, but she didn't manage to get a whole lot done.
She couldn't concentrate.
On one hand, Rodolphus Lestrange and his lackeys all thought Caradoc Dearborn was a true and
reliable Death Eater. On the other, all of his colleagues in the Auror Department thought he was
loyal only to the Ministry, and that all he did was Auror work. In reality, on an invisible third hand,
Caradoc took orders directly from Albus Dumbledore himself. It was all quite confusing for him.
He had to spy on the Death Eaters while maintaining his cover and not arousing suspicion, yet at
the same time he had to work in the Auror Department and pretend not to be a part of any
independent investigation, and also not arouse suspicion. It was maddening.
A party, therefore, filled with Ministry officials and Death Eater affiliates alike, was the most
mind-boggling problem for him to wrap his head around, and a seemingly impossible line to tread.
Caradoc stood as far away from any others as he possibly could and tried his best to look
inconspicuous, a task made somewhat difficult by his Hippogriff costume. It was quite a
convincing one, with the hind legs of a horse stretching out behind him and eagle feathers covering
his front. Its very life-like head had its beak stretched wide open, where his face, blinking and
sweating in the costume, popped out anxiously.
The art gallery was packed full of important rich people, ambitious lower-end Ministy workers, and
those like Caradoc himself who had turned up simply out of necessity than desire. There was, of
course, the catering staff as well. Caradoc was quick to include them, as they were the only people
at this party he had talked to so far.
An orchestra dressed in matching Ogre costumes played some Mozart number, not far from where
Caradoc was dawdling. He made eye contact with one of the violinists and winked, and she spared
him a shy smile before looking back at the conductor.
Caradoc watched her play, grinning to himself and enjoying the music.
"Sociable as always, I see, Caradoc."
His smile faded a little and he turned, his hind legs sliding on the ground behind him, to see
Eugenia Jenkins, Minister for Magic, standing before him and looking at him with a mixture of
amusement and exasperation.
"I don't want to be here," he scowled.
"Then why come?"
"I have to show face, don't I?"
"You're barely showing any face at all," she laughed. "Although it is a great costume."
He looked her up and down. "Where's your costume?"
"This is my costume." She gestured towards her fluorescent trainers, tight, formfitting jeans, and
white cotton blouse, together with a checkered shirt tied around her waist. "I'm a Muggle."
"I'm sorry?"
"It's a joke," she explained. "Growing up, before I found out about magic and that I'm a witch, my
friends and I would always dress up as witches and wizards for Halloween. So now I'm dressing as
a Muggle! And it certainly helps that it's garnered the disapproval of almost every old man in this
room. Look behind me, are they still glaring at me?"
Caradoc peeked over her shoulder. "Yes. Although it's more of the whole room, really. I don't think
bigotry is just limited to old men."
"Yes, it's the young men, too."
He gave her a look.
"Alright, alright," she snorted. "Anyone can be an awful person."
"Thank you."
"Although in my experience, it's been mostly-"
"I presume you came over here for a reason," he interrupted. "Not that I don't enjoy your company,
but you really do have everyone glaring this way, and I'm trying to not be noticed over here."
She nodded, and her expression quickly sobered. "It's about the murder of Bronagh Douglass and
his family."
"I heard," he said sympathetically, glancing around to make sure no one was close enough to hear
them. "I'm really sorry, Eugenia. I know you-"
"Listen," she said impatiently, "someone was in my office that day. I don't know who, but they
found Bronagh's file. That's how they knew where to find him."
Caradoc stared at her, his eyes widening. "Blithe," he whispered.
"That's what I think, too."
"Quick," he took her by the wrist and pulled her even further away from the crowd, if only by a few
steps, "tell me everything you remember, everyone you met that day. This could be our only
chance to uncover who he is."
"I think I already know," she said, leaning in and speaking even more quietly. "Anton mentioned to
me that the two of you suspect Morgan Bulstrode to be the one you're looking for."
He nodded slowly. "You think Bulstrode was in your… ?"
"I do. But I don't know how to prove it."
"Your memory."
"What?"
"Give me your memory of that day," he said hurriedly, summoning a thin glass vial into his hand.
"I'll comb through every moment."
"Right," she said unsurely, bringing her wand to her temple. She closed her eyes tight and didn't
move for a few moments. Then she drew her wand away and with it came a thin, silvery string of
thought. Caradoc held up the vial and she let the memory fall and coil up inside it. "You think
you'll find proof it's him?"
"Maybe," he said, pocketing the vial. "Maybe I'll find proof that it's someone else entirely. But
Bulstrode makes the most sense."
She nodded. "Anton mentioned the two of you think Blithe is staring us all in the face. If it's going
to be anyone, it's Morgan Bulstrode."
"I have to agree with you on that," he said, looking grim. "Now bugger off, please. I don't want
word getting back to Rodolphus that I consort with Mudblood filth like yourself."
Eugenia glared and he winked. She shook her head before striding off, the disapproving stares of
the rest of the crowd going with her.
Finally alone again, Caradoc returned his attention to the orchestra. They were on the finishing
note of an elegant piece, and when the song ended the crowd looked away from their conversations
and broke into applause. The conductor wiped his forehead with a cloth and gestured to the
orchestra, and they all relaxed and put their instruments down. The conductor himself strode off to
drinks table. They were clearly taking a break.
Grinning to himself, Caradoc started making his way over to the orchestra, his eye on the girl he'd
looked at earlier. As he walked, he passed Emmett Fawley, Head of the Auror Department and
Caradoc's boss. They smiled at each other politely and Caradoc walked on. Surely that was more
than enough mingling for Caradoc to say he had shown face at the party. He noticed a dark skinned
man in a shiny purple tuxedo standing near Fawley, and something about the man struck Caradoc
as incredibly familiar. Where had he seen him before? The aviator sunglasses tucked into his jacket
pocket brought something forth to the edge of Caradoc's memory, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He
shook his head, knowing it would likely bug him until he remembered.
The girl looked up as he approached her and she smiled at him again, tucking a stray hair behind
her ear.
Caradoc was finally glad he'd come to the party. Now he felt like getting into the Halloween spirit.
While the rest of the school was getting into the Halloween spirit, Lily sat on her bed and watched
Marlene and Alice get into their costumes.
"I reckon I'll find a guy tonight," Alice declared.
Marlene gaped at her. "You just got out of a relationship!"
"So?"
"That would be very uncharacteristic of you," Lily told her with a shrug.
"Don't you start, Lily. If I hear one more word about needing to respect ourselves more…"
"Are you sure you don't want to come, Lily?" Marlene asked. "I'm sure we could rustle up a
costume of some sort, although it would likely involve a lot of skin showing."
Lily snorted and stood. "I think I'll be fine. I reckon I'll go for a wander about the castle now,
actually. Don't fancy sticking around here by myself once you two are gone."
"Okay," said Marlene. "Oh, Lily, be careful on your way out. There's a stick in the mud lying
around here somewhere and I'd hate for you to-"
"Oh, shut up," she muttered, setting off from the dorm and shaking her head.
As she walked past the costumed and excited strings of Gryffindors in the Common Room, it
occurred to her that she didn't really know what she planned to do with herself for the night.
Wander about the castle? What does that even mean?
It was only as she strolled through the corridors with more conviction than she really should have
had that she realized where she was going. She'd probably known since the moment he had said it
that morning that she would end up here.
Lily was going to detention.
She stood at the door to where she knew he would be. How many of his detentions had she
overseen? She couldn't possibly put a number on it anymore.
She opened the door and walked in. He was sitting at the back of the room, looking completely
bored, and he jerked his head towards her when the door opened.
Without meeting his gaze, she strode to the front of the room as though about to teach a class, and
then turned and surveyed James Potter with a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow.
"Alright, Evans?" he asked with a lazy grin.
"Have you finished writing your lines?"
He wrinkled his nose at her. "Well, no. As far as I knew, no one was coming here to check up on
me. McGonagall just left me here and told me she'd know if I left early. I sort of figured I could get
away with not writing the lines."
Lily wanted to giggle at the unsure glance he gave her, but instead she fixed him with a stern
glance of her own. "Were you trying to cheat the justice system, Potter?"
"Well… yeah. I was."
She nodded. "Sounds about right." With a flick of her wand, his quill stood up off his desk on its
own accord and started scribbling away on the parchment in front of him.
He stared. "You don't even know what I'm supposed to be writing."
"Read it," she said with a smug grin.
He looked closer at the parchment and frowned. "I am a prat."
"Yes, you are, Potter."
He looked back up at her, unimpressed. "Really, Evans?"
"Yep."
"This is what we're doing now?"
"Don't you dare start having standards for good jokes, Potter. You'll find yourself below them more
often than your ego can bear."
"My ego can bear a whole lot, thank you very much."
"Don't I know it," she said with a roll of her eyes.
He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"You know," she said, gesturing vaguely and propping herself up on top of a desk. "I was in the
neighbourhood and I thought I'd pop in."
"Very specific neighbourhood to be in at this time of night," he said with a raised eyebrow.
She folded her arms and regarded him with an annoyed expression. "Potter, if you make me admit
that I came here to see you, I'll be very cross."
Hearing her words brought a light into his eyes that made Lily want to grin like an idiot. "We're
friends again, are we not, Evans? You can admit when you want to see me."
"About that," said Lily, looking thoughtful, "we are friends. But not like any friends I've ever
known of."
"What do you mean?" he asked, with the air of someone who was feigning innocence.
"Well," she hesitated as she tried to describe the thought, "we don't know a whole lot about each
other outside of fighting. Every other time we've been friends, we've really just made jokes and
small talk."
"Until we fight about something and promptly stop being friends," he mused.
"Yeah. Hey, tell me an embarrassing story, Potter."
"About myself?"
"No, about Peter."
"Oh, where to begin? This morning-"
"About yourself, Potter," she said impatiently.
"Oh." He was quiet for a moment. "I can't think of any story in particular."
"Nonsense, there must be something."
He scratched his head and looked like he was thinking hard. "I don't know. The first time I kissed a
girl?"
Lily raised her eyebrows and found her smile growing wide again. "What happened?"
"She attacked me," he said with a grumpy expression, as though he was recalling bad memories.
"She was a muggle girl from the village and my mum had taken me with her to meet the girl's
mum. Must've been about five or six. She tackled me and planted one right on my mouth."
Laughing, she looked at him with confusion. "What's so embarrassed about that?"
"She overpowered me, Evans," he said crossly. "It wasn't cool."
"I just find it funny that it was the girl being pushy. She must be what made you the overbearing
and presumptuous sod you are now."
"Go out with me, Evans," he said lazily.
"Not a chance," she said without skipping a beat. "And didn't you just get out of a relationship?"
"Alice and I have an understanding, Evans. You wouldn't get it."
She pursed her lips and smothered a sudden rising feeling of annoyance. "Mhm."
"So," he said quickly, before she could think much further, "how was your first kiss?"
She had to grant him, he was an expert by now in avoiding a row with her. His ability to read her so
well swiftly made her feel light again, and she accepted the diversion. "I was about ten. A boy
called Thomas. He was the smartest boy in the class."
"Smarter than you?"
"Smartest boy, Potter. I don't know if I was smarter."
"You probably were," he said nonchalantly.
She smiled at him, noticing faintly how it made her happy to hear him talk her up in a genuine
way. "Maybe."
"And he sounds like a prick, anyway."
"He was a gentleman," she said with a shake of her head, looking past him as she recalled the time.
"I could probably find him, you know."
"Oh, shut it, Potter. It was at the school dance. He kissed me while we danced to The Twist."
James pretended to throw up over his desk.
"Next question," she decided. "Let's go to the future. What do you reckon you'll do after
Hogwarts?"
He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe professional Quidditch. McGonagall
reckons I have a shot. She also recommended being an Auror, but I don't know about that. I've seen
a bit of it from my dad. Not sure if it's for me."
"Why's that?"
"Paperwork and meetings," he said flatly. "Just let me hex a few people, for Merlin's sake.
Where's that job?"
"You could be a wand for hire," she snorted.
"Yeah," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Or a professional prankster."
She laughed at that. If pranking was an industry, he would be right at the top. "You could always
look into Zonko's."
He hummed. "My mum would be so proud." She laughed again and he looked at her. "What about
you? Any ideas?"
"Healer, Auror, maybe I'll get into Potions in some way. I'm really not one-hundred-percent on
anything, either." She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I could even be a teacher."
He nodded animatedly. "Right? I have to tell you, Evans, I've really been enjoying this tutoring
business. Seeing someone learn as I teach them gives me this, this…"
"Rush."
"Yes!"
She nodded. "I tutor some Second Years. I fully get what you mean. By the way, you were doing a
really good job this morning."
"Thanks," he said, smiling modestly.
Modestly? That was new.
"You know, Potter, you really have changed a lot this year."
It was like her words were magic. Hearing her say that filled his face with a mixture of pride and
pleasure, and he beamed at her. "Thank you for saying that, Evans. Really. It means a lot from
you."
She wasn't sure what else to say. "I'm proud of you, Potter."
He nodded again, still smiling, and looked out the window. She followed his gaze and looked upon
the star-filled sky, twinkling and winking at them like it was spectating their conversation,
acknowledging their progress.
"So," she said, snapping her gaze back to him abruptly, "what's your favorite color?"
Precious Things
There were people who hated Christmas and there were people who loved it, in much the same
ratio as there were people who never put a Christmas tree up and people who put their tree up the
morning of November first.
Lily, however, was more of a mid-October kind of girl. She'd kept it to herself back then,
singing Have a Holly Jolly Christmas only in her head as she skipped through the corridors, but
now that it was November she really couldn't hold herself back any longer.
"Stop singing," Marlene groaned, her voice muffled by her pillow.
"I'm sorry, Mar, but that's really not an option anymore. After all, 'tis the season, isn't it?"
Her dorm-mates all let out choruses of incoherent, mumbled frustration.
"We're already a day into November, guys. If you can't handle Christmas now, I don't know how
you're going to get through the next few months."
"Lily," said Harriet, a friendly girl who tended to hang out more with her Hufflepuff friends than
her dorm-mates, "it's not Christmas that we can't handle. It's the singing at eight in the morning."
"On a Saturday," mumbled Nancy, Harriet's only Gryffindor friend, like it was some sort of groggy
war-cry.
The other girls all cheered their agreement through half-closed mouths and slackened jaws.
Lily surveyed the lot of them with her hands on her hips. "If that's how you want it, then fine. But
you won't get any chestnuts roasting on an open fire from me when you finally get into the spirit of
things."
"What does that even mean?" one of them, Alice perhaps, called out exasperatedly.
Lily huffed and stormed out, leaving them to their misery. "Ebenezer Scrooges," she said with a
slight pout.
No one ever understood her Christmas references. Granted, most of them were from Muggle books
and songs and traditions, but that was no excuse for her high spirits to go unmet. Leaving the
Common Room, Lily pondered who would possibly be around to match her Christmas cheer. The
answer came to her quickly: Hagrid. Every Christmas, Hagrid was always the first person to get
into the festive spirit, and the only person who ever seemed to give Lily a run for her money.
As though she was taken back to First Year, or transported back to the Evans household as a five-
year-old, Lily grinned to herself and ran down the corridors and stairs on her way to Hagrid's hut
like there were presents there waiting for her. She hurried over the grounds, sliding over mud and
wet, frosty grass, locking her eyes onto the portly little hut near the forest, a thin billow of smoke
rising from its chimney, signalling to her, as though there were a little squeaky voice there saying,
"Here I am!"
When she reached it, she skidded to a stop by the door and leaned to the side to peek through the
window. Her eyes widened in shock. James Potter stood beside Hagrid, laughing while he talked,
and the two hoisted a tree the size of Hagrid himself between them and prepared to set it upright in
a corner of the room. Hagrid had a massive, woolly Christmas hat on and James was wearing a red
and gold cardigan with broomsticks and snowmen knitted on in lined patterns.
Through disbelief, a smile slowly captured Lily's face and she hurried to the door, knocked.
After a few seconds it swung open revealing James and his polite smile, which quickly turned to
surprise, which quickly turned into a wide, lopsided grin. "Evans!"
"Merry Christmas, Potter," she said, flashing her somewhat goofy smile and quirking an eyebrow.
"Merry Christmas," he responded, his eyes dancing like there was a joke he wasn't going to tell her.
"Merry Christmas," roared Hagrid from beside the tree.
There was no-one around to say, "It's only the first of November!", or simply, "Shut it!", so Lily
stepped in and very quickly joined them as they set about to decorate the tree.
"Good to have yeh, Lily," said Hagrid, patting her shoulder and leaning down to offer a steaming
mug of hot cocoa. Lily had had Hagrid's cocoa before and it was surprisingly good, if a little on the
strong side. "Always put m' tree up at the start of November. Sure was surprised to see young
James here come strolling down to join me, not even twen'y minutes ago!"
James winked at her.
"And now here yeh are, too!"
"Here I am," she said with a nod, smiling warmly.
Hagrid bustled about in a small cupboard by his bed and returned to them with a dusty little
wooden gramophone. "Got this from Diagon Alley not too long ago, just for Christmas. They said
it should still work at Hogwarts, but I'm not sure how."
Lily laughed as he set it down on the table and tilted his head at it, squinting. "Here, Hagrid, I'll
show you. Do you have any records?"
"Sure do." He held out a black disc, looking quite proud of himself. "That's what this is, then? A
record?"
"Yep!" She slid it onto the gramophone. "It's called vinyl. Do you know what song that is?"
"Wizarding Christmas Classics Compilation," he said with a beam, enunciating each word
carefully as though it were a tongue twister. "By a famous witch who went to this very school not
too long ago, Celestina-"
"Warbeck," said James, grimacing slightly. "She's great." He didn't sound too enthusiastic.
"Oh, I'd love to hear her, Hagrid." Lily flashed James a wicked grin before smiling back at Hagrid.
James closed his eyes and threw his head back.
"Absolutely," thundered Hagrid, his high spirits fuelled by Lily's request. "Now how do I…?"
"Here." She slid the record on, it started spinning, and a jazzy tune with horns and bells played out,
before a rich, if quite high-pitched voice filled Hagrid's cabin.
You charmed my heart and transfigured my soul-
"So good," said James loudly, his voice almost cracking.

You made me so naughty, I got a stocking full of coal.
Lily covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Hagrid's eyes were closed and he was singing along.
So before this Christmas comes, my dear,
I'll need a defence against your dark arts.
James banged his head against a wall and breathed heavily.
"I never knew you were such a big Christmas fan, Potter," she said, walking over to him and
smirking.
"Oh, yes." He nodded and smiled weakly. "I just can't get enough."
"Why are you here?" she said under her breath. "I remember last Christmas you jinxed a Second
Year for singing God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriff too early."
He blinked at her with what he must have thought was an innocent look on his face. "It's never too
late to catch up on some holiday cheer, is it?"
She narrowed her eyes. "That's true."
He beamed. "Then that's what I'm doing."
"The both of yeh will love this next song," Hagrid said loudly, barely looking at them. "It's called I
Want to be Yer House-Elf for Christmas."
"Oh, Evans!" James widened his eyes and grabbed her hands. "I Want to be Your House-Elf for
Christmas? That's my favorite song!"
"Potter, do not change the subjeeeeect-"
He spun her out and the room rushed past her before their linked hands went taut, and then he
reeled her back in and recaptured her other hand, swaying her with him and grinning.
"That's the spirit," roared Hagrid, clapping his hands.
"You know," she said, glaring, "I'm always surprised at how good a dancer you are."
"And I'm just as surprised that you've stopped slapping me now when I try to dance with you."
She snorted, losing the glare. "You've gotten much better at asking me to dance, I suppose."
"That's funny, considering I never ask."
"Yes, but these days when you grab me and start spinning me about the place you haven't just
come back from jinxing some First Years."
"That you know of."
"That I know of," she nodded.
"Put more hips into it," called Hagrid, cupping his hands around his mouth.
"Why are you here, Potter?"

He pulled her close to him, their arms outstretched on either side and their chests grazing. "Your
eyes are so pretty."
Her nose almost touched his. "That is not an answer to my question."
"All questions pale in the light of your radiance."
She giggled. "What?"
"You're pretty," he said shortly, before suddenly spinning her back out again.
"Potter!"
He kept her a little further away and they twirled on one spot, James grinning the whole time.
"Your face is red."
"I'm angry."
"Or you're simply so incredibly charmed by my wiles."
"Your wiles are about to get you slapped, Potter."
"On that note," he said abruptly, just as the song reached its end, "we'll wrap this up. I need to get
back to the castle, anyway."
"What for?"
He ignored her and turned to Hagrid, who was tapping the gramophone with a pink umbrella,
changing songs with each tap and listening for a few seconds before changing the song again.
"By the way, Hagrid," James said, speaking casually, "there's a show in Gloucestershire tonight.
With magical creatures."
Hagrid looked over. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Apparently, there's going to be a dragon."
Hagrid's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.
"I managed to come by a ticket, from a friend of a friend, but I can't make it - I have a lot of
studying to do."
Lily put a hand on her hip, eyes narrowed. James Potter, studying on a Saturday night?
"I can go," said Hagrid immediately. Then his face clouded a little. "It's just…"
"If you can't go, that's fine-"
"No, no, I can go. I'd planned to, er, well I had other plans tonight. But I suppose if there's
a dragon…"
"Brilliant!" James had already pulled a small ticket from his pocket and he handed it to Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. Really."
"I should be the one to thank yeh, James," Hagrid said, waving him off with his eyes crinkling as
he beamed. "A dragon…"
James patted his shoulder before turning for the door. He glanced back at Lily briefly before he
left. "Will I be seeing you in Hogsmeade, Ms Evans?"
She rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately."
He gave her his lopsided grin again and bowed. "Splendid."
She closed the door on his face.
Hagrid's plans, James knew, had been to go to the Forbidden Forest that night to visit Aragog, a
terrifying acromantula that James, Sirius, and Peter had come across on many a trip to the forest.
Over the years, Remus had eaten a fair few acromantula in his werewolf form, which was
disgusting and horrifying to think about. The morning after each of those times, Remus was
bedridden and spewing into a bucket with great vigor.
Tonight was a full moon. By chance, Peter had found pig meat, notoriously similar in taste to
human flesh, in a heap behind Hagrid's cabin. They coupled this discovery with two things: firstly,
they knew Hagrid had a close relationship with Aragog, which they learned while being threatened
by the very spider in their First Year. Secondly, Sirius had been given detention by McGonnagal
over a matter of breaking curfew, initially scheduled for Saturday night to tend to Hogwarts' lawns
with Hagrid and postponed to Sunday because Hagrid was reportedly 'busy'; Sirius himself had
cornered Hagrid to ask about his plans, and the groundskeeper had looked towards the forest
suspiciously before evading the question.
All of which led to the boys being worried. Remus attacking Hagrid in his werewolf form could
only lead to bad things. Who would even win that fight? The four-year-old in James almost wanted
to let it all unfold just for the excitement. The bigger part of him knew that was a terrible idea,
thankfully.
"What do you possibly need to think so hard about?" asked Lily, sitting next to him in a booth in
The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade. Sirius and Marlene sat opposite, chatting away like a pair of
gossiping aunties. Or uncles. James had met some terribly nosy uncles, and they could be just as
bad.
"I'm thinking of all sorts of clever and fascinating things, Evans. Foremost of which is how dashing
I look in a cardigan." And he did. It was a wooly cardigan with snowmen and broomsticks on it,
and dashing was just the word for it.
"It surprises me very little that the most fascinating thought in your head is how good you look,
Potter."
"You think I look good?"
"I- That's not what I meant." She frowned, colored a little, folded her arms.
James grinned. Oh, Merlin, how he had fallen for this girl. He should have seen it coming, that first
time he'd asked her out, years ago, when she'd gaped at him, quickly grew angry, harrumphed, and
stalked off with a flick of her hair. He should have known from that moment that what he was
feeling then would only deepen, widen, grow stronger, more unwavering, more unshakeable and
decidedly pathetic. He reckoned it was sort of like when his cousin, Poppy, a determined little
toddler with the fierce attitude that his family excelled in cultivating, had clamped onto his leg
during a family gathering one summer break, refusing to let go, and he'd had to walk around the
house with that little scamp stuck to his leg, forcing him to waddle and limp while she was stuck to
him. Only now it was much more like James had a fully-grown mountain troll clinging on. That
little comparison made less sense the more he thought about it, so he changed tact.
He had come into his Sixth Year determined to get over her. Or, at the very least, be less pitifully
poor at talking to her. He had succeeded at this, for a time, before inevitably getting on her bad side
again… for a time… again. And now he was back on her good side. It was a pattern, a little dance
they had been stuck in for years now, and he figured it was time to break it. James' time dating
Alice Prewett had been illuminating among other things, namely fun, enriching, and, admittedly, a
tad weird. He felt he was a better person now. A person more deserving of this fantastic girl sitting
next to him.
"What are you looking at?" She twirled a few strands of glowing red hair between her fingers
absent-mindedly.
Who was he kidding? He still didn't deserve her. But at least knew better now. Enough to know
that he should still try. He may never be good enough for her, but if he didn't at least try to be, how
could he ever hope to hold her in his arms? Really hold her, not just under the pretence of a dance?
"You," he said, his lips curved upwards slightly. "I'm looking at you."
"Well stop. You're putting me off my butterbeer."
Obligingly, he smiled to himself and turned his attention to Sirius and Marlene. They were cackling
away about something, nudging each other and guffawing in turn. "What's the joke?"
"Nothing," they said at the same time, looking like toddlers caught with their hands in the cookie
jar.
After a week, Lily decided it was high time to decorate the dormitory. She did it every year,
collecting and putting up the decorations by herself, and every year the dormitory was surely the
most festive in the castle. The other four girls would have to tiptoe and duck and weave here and
there, but she knew they appreciated it. Rather than say so out loud, they showed their appreciation
with scowls and grunts of frustration when their heads would bump into hanging ornaments.
Hagrid only put Christmas trees up around the caste at the start of December, but she'd helped him
finish decorating the tree in his cabin the previous week. The rest of the castle was, unfortunately,
devoid of festive cheer. Accordingly, the students were equally drab.
"Morning." Alice dropping down beside her at the Gryffindor table, looking unusually bedraggled.
Lily offered her a plate of toast but she shook her head. "What happened to you, Alice? You look
like…"
"Like a miniature Christmas tree hanging over my bed for no conceivable reason fell, in the midst
of my sleep, onto my face? Because that's what I feel like. Because that's what happened."
Lily winced. "Oh, Alice, I'm so sorry!"
Her friend waved her off. "Don't worry about it. We'll call it even for me dating James."
Lily paled and shook her head quickly. "There's nothing to get even for. I didn't care. Was I
annoyed? Yes. Because he's a prat to me and I'm your best mate-"
"Tied with Marlene."
"-but there's nothing to get even for. It didn't inconvenience me or bother me or- or- hey look, the
Prophet!"
An owl dropped the paper in front of the two girls and Lily snatched at it, unfolding it quickly. She
didn't like thinking about what she felt for James, and she liked talking about it far less. She had
long since decided that she liked him as a person. He was, without a doubt, great friend material.
Was there something else there? Additional feelings within her that she couldn't see? That
she refused to see? Well, that's just the thing. If there was, then she certainly refused to see it.
"Oh, Eugenia Jenkins," said Alice, perking up. "She's great."
Lily nodded, surveying the photo of the Minister of Magic, glad for the distraction. "She is great.
But why does she have a full-page spread?"
It was an article to slander her. Lily gathered that very quickly. Words like 'mad' and 'unfit' and
'selfish' abounded the many paragraphs dedicated to tearing her down, all beneath the headline:
Jumbling Jenkins to Pass Bill.
The bill had been in the papers for some months now. If it were to pass it would make the
expression of hatred towards Muggles, verbal or otherwise, illegal and punishable. Naturally,
arguments and debates struck up not only in Wizarding Britain, but around the whole world. Even
at Hogwarts, students would constantly give their input, asked for or not, politically inclined or not.
Everyone had a view.
The most prevalent argument was, of course, the necessity of free speech. Countless little columns
in the margins of the papers detailed how unfair, how dangerous it was to police the things that
people say, to control the way that people think, stressing how ludicrous the bill was, how unfit for
office Jenkins was. She was a Muggle-Born. She was acting out of self-interest, putting concerns
for Muggles over Wizard-kind. She was something to be despised. They should be able to say what
they want, for who was she to stop them? Throughout, they stressed that their concern was solely
for the sake of freedom, for how bad of a precedent this would set. Lily wondered how differently
they would feel if they were Muggles.
"It's almost passed," Alice said excitedly, scanning the page with Lily. " Over the next few weeks,
she says!"
Could it happen? Would it really happen? And should it, in the first place?
Alice gazed at Eugenia's picture. "She's such an inspiration."
Lily nodded firmly. "She is. She knew this would make her unpopular, an enemy, and she even
knew that there's a moral greyness around the whole thing… and she didn't care. She did what
needed to be done."
Alice made to respond but Frank Longbottom wandered over, hand in hand with Amelia Fawcett.
She closed her mouth and looked away.
Lily didn't have to be particularly bright to have figured out, by then, her friend's feelings for the
Head Boy. "You need to talk to him, Alice."
"I will." Alice picked up a slice of toast and gingerly nibbled at the crust. "Soon."
It was a further week before she did. Alice had found him in an empty classroom on the fourth
floor. James had told her where he'd be - it certainly paid to have dated a Marauder.
After she walked into the classroom, saw Frank there shuffling through Prefect schedules, and
cleared her throat, the conversation was short. It was short, but yielded results.
"Hi, Al-"
"We're best friends, Frank."
He closed his mouth with a click.
She left the door open and strode further into the room, perching lightly on a desk. "You've had
relationships before, I've had… fleeting relationships, but we've always been best friends through it
all. Why is this different?"
"Alice…"
"I dated James. So what? You started dating Amelia first."
"I don't know why it's weird, okay?" He seemed frustrated and looked at the ceiling. "You
dating James was weird."
"Everyone says that," she said with a small smile.
He shrugged. "Because it's true. I mean, who would have ever thought that you two, of all people,
would… Look, it was odd, at the very least."
"Well, we're not together anymore."
He met her eyes for the first time. "I'm still with Amelia."
"I know," she said a little too loudly. She lowered her voice. "We should still be friends, Frank."
He nodded slowly. "You're right. Of course you are. I- Hey, are you busy at all in the next few
hours?"
Something bubbled inside her, rising to her chest. "No."
"Do you want to study? For Potions or something? I just have to finish these schedules and then I-"
She beamed. "Yes."
So the conversation was short - the study session was much longer.
Eugenia was close and she knew it. This time tomorrow, the Wizengamot would rule in her favor
and her bill would pass. It was a tight margin, too. Many Wizengamot members, the highest, most
important, most powerful people inn Wizarding society were against it, against her. She owed the
inevitable success of this bill in no small part to Albus Dumbledore's endorsement.
Tomorrow would mark the first step, of many, towards a better, more loving future - a change in
the narrative that had been impossible for so long.
There was only one thing still bugging her.

Blithe.
There was someone dangerous in the Ministry who she was enabling. Someone with influence over
her, someone who could see her regularly. Someone who could have a whole family killed in good
conscience. How could Eugenia move into the new era of peace without first solving this problem?
It was Blithe, she knew it was, who had entered her office last month and brought about the
murders of the Douglass family. So just who was he? Clearly it was someone who could just waltz
into her office without raising any concerns. Blithe could be right in front of us, they had said.
What was she missing? Who was she overlooking? She considered the facts. Morgan Bulstrode
had been coming from the direction of her office when she'd passed him, just before she'd reached
her office. Could it have been him? Could he have done it so quickly? Of course, all he'd have
needed to do was convey information to someone on the outside, and that could have happened
long before she'd reached her office. Was it really Bulstrode? Who else it could be? If Blithe was in
front of her the whole time, then-
In that moment, she realized who it was.
This was bad. This was really bad. She needed to tell them. Calmly, she reached for some
parchment and scribbled down a note. She folded it, slipped it into her pocket, then she got up and
left her office. She walked casually. It was just a stroll. She thought about the weather, about her
weekend plans, about anything else, really. She needed to remain calm. This was really, really bad.
When she reached the Auror Department, she stopped by reception. "Is Caradoc Dearborn in?"
"No, sorry." The blonde haired, frazzled looking lady smiled politely. "Can I take a message for
him?"
"No, no. I'll just have a look around."
She walked between desks and cubicles, smiling at all the faces surprised to see the Minister
herself walking through their Department. She found Caradoc's desk soon enough and slipped the
folded note under a clear folder. Then she turned on her heel and left.
She needed to get out, clear her head. First she would visit her assistant, let him know she was
clocking out for the day. Home would be here next stop, she figured. She'd wait there safely while
she tried to process what she'd learned. Then, she'd go to Hogwarts.
She didn't see the dark skinned man in a lime green tuxedo stepping out from an adjacent cubicle,
didn't see him lifting the folder, didn't see him adjust his aviator sunglasses as he read the note.
"I'm sure you know," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles, "that
punching another student is against the rules."
Eugenia, Fifth Year and unapologetic, shrugged. "So give me a detention."
He shook his head. "That is not why I called you here, Ms Jenkins. You are talented, wickedly
clever, and fairly popular, as I understand it-"
"Not entirely. Not amongst Pure-bloods, at any rate."
He steepled his fingers and pinned her under his gaze. "You have the means, my dear girl, to
become the best of us. It is my belief that you now need guidance to reach your next plateau."
She grimaced. What did that mean?
"Let us discuss why you punched Tobias Selwyn today, Ms Jenkins."
"I'll tell you why," she said heatedly. "He called me a Mud-blood!"
He inclined his head. "I imagine this was not the first time that has happened to you."
"No, but so what? Am I supposed to just accept that? Roll over and be okay with it?"
"No. Much more than that." Dumbledore leaned forward. "I want you to understand why he said
it."
"Because he hates people like me."
"And why is that?"
She didn't hesitate. "Because he's an arse."
Dumbledore's eyebrows quirked ever so slightly, and his smile widened. "Perhaps. But it goes
deeper than that, I'm afraid. He hates you because he is you."
"Pardon me?"
"We are all the same, Ms Jenkins. You, me, Mr Selwyn, even Rubeus Hagrid. One and the same.
Every person will look into another's eyes and see themselves. That is the curse of mankind. If we
look in the eyes of something we deem to be less than us and yet we see ourselves there, where does
that leave us?"
"With resentment," she said slowly.
"Precisely. A rich man is reminded how poor he is in the eyes of the beggar. So too was Mr Selwyn
scared by what he saw in your eyes today."
She pondered this and frowned at the floor. "Professor?"
He hummed in response.
"Then if wizards are so much better, why do they have to hide? Why don't they rule the world?"
He seemed glad she'd asked. "A long time ago, that was the question of the hour. Muggles were
afraid of us, and fear incites violence. If war broke out, witches and wizards would have won, of
course. We would have seized control of the world. And what would then happen to the Muggles?"
"They'd be nothing," she said quietly.
"Or close to that. So, it took strength and an extraordinary amount of self-sacrifice, and was not
easy to accomplish, but overnight we vanished into the darkness. Magic ceased to exist, for all
intents and purposes. As penalty for having the means to do the right thing, mankind's truly good
nature forced us to do the right thing."
"So… because we have strength, we have to be strong?"
He inclined his head again. "It is not for everyone. Mr Selwyn's hatred is an example of the burden
of a good deed."
It was a lot for her to wrap her head around. "Professor? Why can't doing the right thing just be
easy?"
The warmth in his smile brought a similar smile to her own lips. "The most precious things tend to
be the most difficult to come by, Ms Jenkins. Now, regarding your detention…"
Eugenia stepped into her apartment and froze. Lord Voldemort was in her living room, five Death
Eaters standing on either side. He smiled at her, a chilling smile that shouldn't have existed. His
scarlet eyes had hell inside them.
Slowly, Eugenia resumed her movements, closing the door behind her and taking off her coat. "I
don't suppose you're here for tea?"
Voldemort said nothing, and the masked figures by his side stayed silent too.
"Just me, then? That's fine. Won't be a second, love."
Her kitchen was part of the living room, nothing separated the two and they could see all her
movements clearly. She was no threat, evidently, or she'd have been cursed already. She poured
water, already boiling, from a charmed teapot, and stirred two cubes of sugar in before removing
the teabag.
"Little bit of milk," she said to them almost apologetically. She poured three drops and the tea
lightened in shade a great deal. Stirring it, she walked into the living room and sat on an armchair
primly. "Now, to business. I take it you're not here to turn yourself in?"
Finally, he spoke. "You make jokes." His voice was almost like a hiss, low and surprisingly
smooth. "In the face of death, you jest. Do you not take me seriously, Eugenia Jenkins?"
She took a sip of her tea. "I take you very seriously, believe me. May I ask, by the way, how you
know where I live?" Just as she said it, she nodded. "Ah. Blithe. That conniving bastard really had
me fooled, you know."
"You've discovered his identity," Voldemort said. "So you must die."
"Must I?"
"You seek to save Muggles. You seek to change our laws. It is fitting that you will die by my
hand."
She had pins and needles all over her body, but that was to be expected. She didn't let it show on
her face. "You won't win, Voldemort." The Death Eaters hissed, but he didn't let any emotion cross
his face. "You're taking the easy route. It's so simple hate, so much more complex to rise above."
Her tongue felt heavy. Her words almost slurred.
"I tire of this conversation," he said dryly. "I will kill you tonight, Eugenia Jenkins. But first I will
hear you scream."
She laughed. Her head pounded, and suddenly she couldn't see anymore. "You keep saying that.
But you won't kill me. You won't even torture me."
"Is that right?"

"It is." She waited, as long as she dared wait before she embraced the cold. "Because I'm already
dead."
The mug fell from her numb fingers. By the time it smashed on the floor, spilling tea with no drops
of milk and three drops of a rare, silky white concoction she'd brewed herself long ago, she was
already dead.
The Art of Liking
"You ever feel like life is just making fun of you sometimes?" Frank threw the Quaffle to James.
James caught it deftly and raised an eyebrow. The lake was glistening behind them, its surface
starting to freeze over with the cold. The giant squid was nowhere to be seen. Winter had snuck
upon them like a mugger onto a rich man, and it looked prepared to beat them senseless. "Life
could never make fun of me, I'm much too clever. Life and I sometimes like to point and laugh at
others, though. Why? What's got you so blue?"
Frank shrugged. "Nothing."
James snorted and threw the Quaffle back. "Clearly there's something, so get on with it. Lay it on
me, Longbottom."
Frank sighed and made to throw the Quaffle.
"And stop being so dramatic about it. It looks terrible on you."
The Head boy glared, threw the Quaffle a little harder. "It's Alice." James caught the Quaffle and
hesitated.
"Ah."
"There! That right there! What's that reaction about?"
He rubbed his neck. "I'm starting to think I'm not the right person for this conversation."
"Well she won't give me a straight answer and I'll be damned if you don't either."
"Look, Frank, you two are weird. You've been best friends for six years - how do you not hook up
at any point between then and now? It's weird! I don't know what to make of the whole thing."
"Then tell me what Alice makes of it."
James tossed the Quaffle into the air, grimacing as he settled on his words and caught it. "I told her
that you like her."
"You what?"
"In my defence, it was glaringly obvious. The giant squid could have told her that."
"But why would you tell her?"
He tossed the Quaffle into the air again, caught it and frowned. "You'd just gotten with Amelia,
after telling me that you've ostensibly gotten over Alice. Alice was hurt and confused and my
girlfriend. Why would I not tell her?"
"She was hurt?" Frank said with a frown on his face, not seeming to have heard the rest of what
James said. "Why would she be hurt by me being with Amelia?"
"Why do you think, genius?"
"She didn't like Amelia? She was worried I wouldn't make time for her?" Frank gestured for James
to pass the Quaffle. "What is it?"
James shook his head and lobbed the Quaffle to him. "You certainly can be quite thick, you know."
"Hey," said Frank. He watched James turn and start to walk back to the castle, his frown
deepening. "Come on, James. Help me out."
"I'm not going to spell it out for you, Longbottom. And I certainly don't want to get even more
involved in this whole affair." He paused then, and almost as an afterthought he turned and
grinned. "I do think I've said enough for you to know what to do from here, though. She's an
excellent kisser, by the way."
And with that he left Frank standing in the chill morning air, the deepest, purest of glares following
the Quidditch Captain's retreating figure. He kicked stones and muttered dark things as he walked
back up to the castle himself.
James had been frustratingly useless, all things considered. Frank had no answers and a plethora of
new questions. After liking Alice for so long, having been painfully trapped in the garments of a
friend for so long, fleetingly thinking he could get over her and meeting someone new, only for
Alice to turn around and start being… well, weird. Frank certainly felt like life was making fun of
him.
And then there was Amelia. Frank reached the castle and trudged his way through quiet corridors,
thinking of his girlfriend. She was great. That much he was sure of. She was nice, she looked nice,
and she made her feelings for Frank very, very clear. What did Alice offer in comparison? Well,
she was beautiful, that was for sure. She was more temperate and more lovely than a summer's
day, but decidedly less sweaty. Her looks weren't even the start of it, though. She was far from soft-
spoken, but there was always a gentleness, a softness to her that calmed him and filled him with
warmth. A whispering, sweet smelling breeze by the ocean, or the soothingness of honey to a sore
throat. All of this remained after her peculiar relationship with James Potter, of course, but there
was more there now. A spice in the scent, new icing on the cake. If she wasn't quite soft-spoken
before, she definitely wasn't now. Alice had a different flair in her eyes, a jaunting tilt in her smile,
and she was no longer a stranger to speaking her mind with steel in her voice, irrespective of how it
might be received.
If he hadn't loved her before, which he had, then he unequivocally did now, which he did. But
Amelia…
He had a bird in the hand, but there could be two in the bush. Merlin, if Alice now returned his
feelings there could be a whole flock in the bush. But did she? Frank saw no proof that she did. Six
years spent longing for her told him to just take the one bird. Amelia liked him. How great was
that? Alice's face crossed his mind and he knew that it could certainly be greater.
"Chin up, Longbottom," came a voice from behind him. He turned to see Professor Windstrum
strolling up to him. "You can't possibly be this deep in thought before breakfast."
Frank rubbed his neck and grinned at his favorite teacher. "You ever feel like life is just making
fun of you, sir?"
Windstrum didn't even pause as he walked past him. "Life itself is a joke, Frank. Learn to laugh at
it."
He stared after the teacher, who paused near the end of the corridor and looked back. "Dumbledore
wants to see you later today, by the way. After classes. Six'o'clock, sharp."
Frank raised an eyebrow. "What for?"
Windstrum smiled, an expression rarely ever paired with the word he said next: "Politics."
The owls swarmed in at breakfast, carrying Daily Prophets with headlines that drew many a gasp
from the sea of students at their House tables.
"Jenkins resigns?" Lily read aloud, her eyes wide.
"Let's see that." Marlene grabbed the paper and quickly scanned the front page. "...resigned for her
health… has come down with a serious illness… this marks the only good decision the Minister has
made in her entire career…"
"Oh, please," Lily scoffed. "Does it specify what kind of illness it is?"
"Nope."
Sirius, sitting beside Marlene, a sight which was now strangely commonplace, narrowed his eyes at
the paper. "This strikes me as suspicious."
From his other side, Remus nodded. "It does bring up some red flags. How did she resign? Did
anyone see her in person?"
Marlene double-checked the paper. "No, she sent in an owl with a note."
Collectively, the teens all ooh'd and winced.
"Another red flag," said Remus quietly. "Something's up."
James entered the Great Hall then, and made a beeline for where they sat at the Gryffindor table.
Lily called to him when he was close enough. "How was your chat with Frank?"
He shrugged. "Cold. Didn't bring a cloak."
"What was it about?" Marlene asked, tilting her head.
"Broomstick polish," he said shortly, as he stopped idly by Lily's shoulder.
Alice peaked past him towards the Entrance Hall. "Where's Frank now?"
He frowned and glanced behind him. "Not sure, actually. He might still be out there, the utter
madman." He turned back and gave Lily a flat stare. "You've forgotten then, haven't you?"
She blinked. "What?"
"You said you'd help me study for potions."
Her eyes widened. "Oh, you were serious?"
"Yes." He tapped his foot and crossed his arms. "I'm always serious."
Sirius opened his mouth and Marlene jabbed him. "Ow."
"Right then," Lily said, quickly stuffing that last chunk of toast in her mouth and brushing off her
hands. She stood and picked up her bag. "A Prefect always keeps her word."
He beamed. "Splendid." Then he turned on his heel and strode away without any further delay.
"Potter, wait!"
As she hurried after him, she barely noticed the small smiles her friends wore, staring resolutely at
their plates like there was a joke between them that Lily couldn't know. Of course James could just
study by himself. Obviously he didn't need her help, regardless of whether or not she was top of the
class as far as Potions went. He was James Potter.
But, Lily reasoned, grinning to herself as she caught up with him, as of late, she was hardly one to
complain about any of those things.
Caradoc Dearborn read the headlines and instantly surmised what must have happened. Eugenia
Jenkins was dead. Blithe, whoever he was, had made his move.
Why was it, Caradoc thought angrily as he walked towards the Ministry's main entrance, that every
time Blithe made his move, someone had to die?
Or maybe she wasn't dead. Maybe he was reading too much into the headline. Eugenia
might actually just be taking time off, as uncharacteristic as that was. Caradoc very much doubted
this, but there was one way he could make sure.
He suddenly ducked into an alley and flattened his back against the wall, waiting, making sure no
one was watching him. When he was satisfied, he closed his eyes and turned on the spot, feeling
his body squeeze and twist through space. When he opened his eyes, he was in another dark, musty
alley, far from the Ministry, just down the road from Eugenia Jenkins' apartment. He had to see her
for himself.
After making sure the coast was clear, he slowly ambled out of the alley and walked as
nonchalantly as he could down the street. In the distance, he could see her apartment. Outside,
there was a solitary figure facing away from it, standing casually. Or at least attempting to stand
casually. Caradoc had personally stood that exact same way many times. The wand hand by the
pocket, the eyes alert, the shoulders slumped to give the impression of inattentiveness but the
stance wide and ready. The figure was a fighter.
When Caradoc got close enough, he recognized the face of Rabastan Lestrange. And Rabastan
Lestrange looked over and met his eyes. Caradoc froze for the briefest of moments before
regaining his relaxed demeanor and maintaining his pace, nodding to him.
Rabastan didn't nod back, and his hand moved no further from his pocket. "Dearborn. It is good to
finally meet you."
"Likewise." Caradoc's lips were dry. "Did Rodolphus tell you about me?"
"He did." The hand still didn't move any closer or further from that pocket, the pocket which quite
clearly housed a wand. Caradoc refused to think about how many lives that wand had taken, people
it had tortured. "You've been a good spy so far, Dearborn. You've given us valuable information."
He gave what he hoped was a convincing smile. "Glad to be of service."
"Which raises the question," Rabastan continued, "why, I wonder, have you come to visit Eugenia
Jenkins herself, the morning after she resigns oh-so-mysteriously? What reason do you have for
being here, Dearborn?"
Caradoc didn't speak. His throat was dry, he knew his voice might crack, and he frankly didn't
know what to say.
The hand moved. Caradoc's heart jolted as he watched Rabastan's wand hand inch towards his
pocket, towards the outline of that thin twig with which he had made himself so notorious.
Caradoc's own hand moved slowly for his own pocket, knowing that he could reach for it just as
quickly as Rabastan.
Rabastan gave him a knowing smile, but he hadn't yet seemed to notice Caradoc's fingers grazing
the edge of his pocket, so Caradoc had to wonder just how knowing it could be.
Rabastan dove his hand into his pocket suddenly, and Caradoc jerked for his own wand but before
he could pull out those nine-and-a-half inches of maple Rabastan pulled his hand back out and
stretched it out to Caradoc, open and palm up.
There was a small, silver key lying in his hand. "You want to see the body, don't you?"
Caradoc froze, his heart racing. Did Rabastan really think Caradoc had come here to see a dead
body?
"Go on in, then. Take a peek, it's still there. Just a peek though, you hear me?"
Dumbly, Caradoc pulled his hand out of his pocket, empty, and gave a slow nod. He hesitated for a
brief moment before he took the key. When he entered the apartment, his movements were stiff
and his blood grew colder and colder with each step. He saw the body immediately, and leaned a
hand against the wall to brace himself.
Yes, there was no doubt about it now. Eugenia was very dead.
"Why am I here?" Frank asked, for what felt like the hundredth time. He eyed the marble floors
and lavishly decorated walls of the tenth level of the Ministry of Magic and felt acutely out of
place. These were the stomping grounds of very, very important people. Nothing visually aided
this hypothesis of his, but he could just feel it.
"I told you already," said Professor Windstrum from a few paces ahead of him. "As Head Boy, we
think it appropriate for you to experience the political-"
"Well that doesn't check out," said Frank, narrowing his eyes at Windstrum's back, "because I don't
see Penelope here with us."
Penelope Green was the Head Girl, popular and respected in her own right but with a slight
tendency of being overly-studious, keeping herself to herself.
"Well," said Windstrum with a confident smile, "that's because…"
They continued walking, and after a few long seconds of waiting for a finished sentence with none
forthcoming, Frank quickened his pace to try to look at Windstrum's face. "Because what?"
"Give me a minute, I'll think of something."

"Were you really hoping I'd just forget you didn't give me an answer?"
"I'll be honest, Frank. Yes."
"Where's Dumbledore? I want Dumbledore," said Frank, fully aware that he was starting to sound
like a sulking child.
Unexpectedly, as though he had been summoned, Dumbledore suddenly appeared from behind
them, matching their stride at first before quickening his pace even more. "Good evening, Frank."
"Professor," he said with relief. "What's going on? Why are we here?"
They turned a corner and continued along the winding corridor. Dumbledore didn't slow at all as he
answered. "I expect you have read today's paper?"
"About the Minister resigning? Yeah, I saw that."
"That's what they call what happened?" Windstrum asked darkly, scowling. "Resigning? It
was murder."
"Be that as it may, Anton, we still find ourselves without a Minister of Magic. There must
alwaysbe a Minister."
"So what's the process for that?" Frank asked.
"Morgan Bulstrode was quite high in Eugenia Jenkin's power structure. Under normal
circumstances, we would stand back and allow him to take her place as Minister of Magic.
However, considering-"
"Considering he's a conniving, worthless swine," spat Windstrum.
"Considering he is suspected of affiliation with Death Eaters," Dumbledore continued calmly, "we
cannot allow that to happen. As a member of the Wizengamot, I called for a vote of confidence,
and was delighted to find many of my colleagues agreeing with me."
"Of course they agreed with you," said Windstrum. "They're half expecting you to be Minister."
"That still doesn't explain why I'm here," said Frank, looking between the two exasperatedly.
Windstrum gave a half smile. "Dumbledore feels awkward about that. You're a student, Frank.
Head Boy, and a Pure-blood to boot. Having you present speaks volumes of youth support, for
Dumbledore and whoever he endorses, even if you won't be allowed to say anything at the
meeting." Frank turned to Dumbledore, eyebrow raised.
Dumbledore looked back at him now, almost apologetically. "Forgive me, Frank. It is egregiously
manipulative of me to use you in such a way, but it must be done."
"You're essentially just here to stand beside us and look pretty," sniggered Windstrum.
Frank glared at him. "And Penelope? She's not here because she's only a Half-blood, is that right?"
Windstrum looked away. Frank turned to look at Dumbledore, who took a long time to answer.
When he did, he looked harrowed. "Forgive me, Frank."
Frank wasn't sure what to say to that. Both of the men seemed to draw no shortage of relief when
they finally reached their destination. It was a courtroom of sorts, although it struck Frank as more
of an auditorium. As grand as it was large, the ceiling stretched impossibly high above them,
glistening with diamonds and gems, while wooden stands were arranged all around the room,
enough to seat hundreds of people. At present, there were only perhaps thirty others in the room.
Someone hissed to them from along the stands and Frank looked over to see Alastor Moody
gesturing wildly. Scars riddled his face and there was a shadow in the man's eyes that told Frank he
had seen things, things which Frank could scarcely imagine, would never want to imagine.
"It's about time," growled Moody as they approached.
"Good evening, Alastor," said Dumbledore with a smile, sitting down beside him.
"Look at those faces," Moody said, gesturing very obviously around the room, not caring who
noticed. "Spineless, the lot of them. We've sat here this whole time acting like Eugenia came down
with the common cold. She's dead, folks."
A few people stared. Some coughed and looked away awkwardly.
"Windstrum, Longbottom," Moody greeted, as though he'd just seen them. "Glad to see you both."
Frank shook his course hand, making sure his grip was strong enough to leave a good impression.
Moody surveyed Windstrum. "Congratulations on your appointment. Never saw you as the
teaching type, if I'm honest. Weren't you a student yourself, not even six years ago?"
"Just over six," said Windstrum, grimacing. "But it certainly doesn't feel like it."
The lot of them settled into their seats just as two more men approached them. The first had short
blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard, his eyes flashing with merriment as he smiled. His friend
was dark haired and expressionless.
"Room for two more over here?" called the blonde man. "I get the feeling this is the group one
wants to be sitting with."
"Sawyer, good to see you," said Windstrum enthusiastically, standing up to grasp his hand and
smiling wide. "And you, Harold."
Harold, the dark haired man, nodded simply and sat, his movements slow and indicative of a quiet
sort of power.
"Frank," said Windstrum, gesturing to him to stand, "meet Sawyer Hughes and Harold Minchum.
They were a few years above me in Hogwarts, but these days they're quite the important figures.
You want to be an Auror after Hogwarts, right? Well, these are the people to know." Sawyer tried
to wave him off but Windstrum clapped a hand on Frank's shoulder and dragged him closer. "Head
of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, this one. That's almost as high as it gets these
days. And Harold, the delightful old clown over here," he said, jostling Harold's shoulder who, to
his credit, didn't even seem to feel it, "is one of the top Aurors in the department."
Frank instantly felt nervous. "Er… hey."
Sawyer grinned at him. "Frank Longbottom, is it? I've heard a lot about you."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. Dumbledore speaks of you most highly-"

"Sit down, you eejits," snapped Moody from behind them. "We're about to start."
Sniggering, Sawyer sat next to Harold, and Frank sat between him and Windstrum. On the other
side of the room a collection of men were talking amongst themselves. Frank recognized a lot of
them. Pure-blood fanatics, possibly supporters of Voldemort, but smart enough and rich enough to
claim all the top Ministry jobs. Morgan Bulstrode was at the forefront of the group. Frank
recognized him from the papers. A stout man with a protruding chin, he didn't bear a striking
figure, and the things Frank had heard of him made him want to grab his wand and jinx the hairs
off the man's arse.
Further along the stands was the Head of the Auror Department, Emmett Fawley. Frank didn't
know much about him aside from the fact that he had taken the department over from James' dad
after a botched raid on the Goyle residence. The faces behind him were lined and serious, and none
of them familiar.
A last small party gathered in the remaining corner of the stands. Their faces ranged from old to
young, as they were comprised of all sorts, including a few well known Wizengamot faces that
Frank recognized.
Around the rest of the stands were lone figures with important-looking robes and faces - it was the
look in their eyes, Frank reckoned - or people sitting in much smaller groups. Many pairs of eyes in
the room would wander over to Dumbledore and linger there, trailing over their little group. Frank
felt his own fair share of their scrutiny being thrown his way.
Eventually, Morgan Bulstrode stood up and cleared his throat. If he had expected them all to
become silent immediately, the disappointment didn't show on his face when they didn't. People
took their time to finish their conversations, almost to the point of being purposeful, dragging their
conversations out unnecessarily just to irk the man.
"Now that we are all here," he said in a slightly nasally voice, looking at a few people pointedly,
Dumbledore included, "let us begin the meeting. As interim Minister-"
"You're not the interim Minister," said a man at the front of the fourth group of Witches and
Wizards of both the young and old. "You're barely even in charge."
"But I am still in charge," said Bulstrode in stride, looking smug that the man at least recognized
that much. "Now-"
"That's Jedidiah Hobart," Windstrum whispered to Frank. "He's on the Wizengamot, and very
rich."
"And a good man," added Sawyer, glancing for a moment at Jedidiah before looking back at
Bulstrode.
"-as you all must surely know by now, Eugenia Jenkins has retired."
Moody growled, low and guttural. Some people looked over with pale faces. Bulstrode, to his
credit, didn't show he had noticed.
"It is most regrettable, but it cannot be avoided, I'm afraid. As a result, we find ourselves in need of
a leader. I would like to offer my own name for consideration-"
"Of course you would," snorted Jedidiah. "That's not going to happen, Bulstrode."
"Minister Bulstrode-"
"Just Bulstrode, I'm afraid," said Dumbledore clearly. It wasn't loud, but every head turned and not
a single other person spoke. Frank had to agree with what Sawyer had said. This was certainly the
group one would want to be sitting with. "In Eugenia's most conspicuous absence, it is true that the
duty of leadership would ordinarily fall to you without any need for a vote of confidence from the
Ministry Heads - provided, of course, that the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot signs off on it.
This is outlined in the Wizengamot Codex. And, as Chief Warlock, I am sorry to say that I cannot
do so."
Jedidiah nodded firmly and turned to Bulstrode with a small smile. "If you want to be Minister, it
must happen here, in this room, through the collective agreement of all those present, Heads and
Wizengamot alike."
A wizard behind Bulstrode whispered something in his ear, and Bulstrode looked at Frank and
narrowed his eyes. "Who's the boy, Dumbledore? I dare say he won't be speaking here, much less
voting?"
Dumbledore gestured to Frank. "This is Frank Longbottom, Head Boy of Hogwarts this year. I find
it prudent that he be here for this meeting, though you are correct in assuming that he will not be
speaking. I value his opinion greatly, and think it wise to seek counsel with the youth on matters
such as these."
People around the room were looking at Frank differently now, intrigued, nodding. In turn, he was
sure his very presence would put more weight behind each of Dumbledore's words.
He had never really seen his Headmaster as manipulative before, but now he saw the thin strings of
a puppet-master trailing from the man's fingers.
Bulstrode nodded sharply. "Very well. You are right, of course, that my power is only temporary.
Our true Minister is not yet decided. I would therefore like to put my name forward, humbly-"
Jedidiah snorted, "-for your consideration." He sat back down and folded his hands in his lap.
There were mumbles from around the room, and Bulstrode scrutinized each prominent face in turn.
A few people looked to Dumbledore, but he was silent, smiling politely.
"I would also like to put my name forward," said a figure sitting beside Jedidiah, standing up and
taking a step forward.
"That's Barty Crouch," Sawyer whispered, nodding at the figure. "An ambitious man, clearly.
Quite capable. He works in my department, just under me. I'm not altogether sure I want to see him
as the Minister, though."
It seemed the rest of the room was in agreement with Sawyer, as the reception to this was just as
lukewarm as Bulstrode's. Barty Crouch sat back down, looking unfazed. There was silence for a
good few moments then, each person in the room craning their necks around to see if anyone else
would stand.
There was movement and everyone turned to look. Emmett Fawley slowly got to his feet, looked
around at all those gathered and spoke. "I, too, will put my name forward. As Head of the Auror
Department, I can bring the much needed direction for the war looming before us."
He sat. There were no rumblings this time, no shuffling around. Just silence. This, if anything, was
stronger than if there had been raucous cheering. It seemed they'd found the one.
Dumbledore stood suddenly, and the silence grew louder. "A vote, then," he said at last, and
people seemed to relax. "Three names to consider. We shall halt proceedings for now, and
reconvene in, let us say, five minutes."
The chattering picked up as soon as he sat back down.
"I don't know a lot about him," Moody admitted, looking at Fawley. "He's a private man. Around
the office he keeps to himself, and his door is rarely open. He's done a decent job so far, though."
Windstrum nodded. "He's certainly the best option."
"What do you make of this, Sawyer? Harold?" asked Dumbledore.
Sawyer shrugged. "I have little to do with him, even if he does report to me directly. I think he'll do
a fine job, though."
"He is better than Crouch," said Harold. His voice was deep, and he didn't look at them as he
spoke. "Crouch is an extremist, and a proponent of the use of Unforgivable Curses."
Windstrum nodded. "And Bulstrode is just a tosser."
"Frank?" asked Dumbledore.
Frank wasn't quite sure what to say, and he certainly didn't know what he could add that hadn't
already been said. "Crouch and Fawley are both preferable to Bulstrode. Between the two though,
Fawley stands out much more clearly."
Dumbledore nodded. "We are all in agreement then." When the five minutes were up, he stood and
the room grew quiet again. "A count of hands shall suffice, I think. All in favor of Morgan
Bulstrode?" The hands of all those sitting near Bulstrode went up, and a few other lone stragglers
around the room. Dumbledore looked around slowly before nodding. "Sixteen." The hands went
down. "All in favor of Bartemius Crouch?"
Barty Crouch's hand went up. Two others raised their hands, sitting near Jedidiah, who looked at
them and wrinkled his nose.
"Three," said Dumbledore, like it was just as important as Bulstrode's figure. "All those in favor of
Emmett Fawley?" Dumbledore himself raised his hand, as did Moody, Windstrum, Sawyer and
Harold. Frank remembered he could not vote and sat still, feeling awkward. Around the room,
many more hands went up. Frank couldn't help but wonder if those hands would still be up if
Dumbledore's wasn't. The amount of authority he commanded almost seemed to compel them to
join him. This was the very reason Dumbledore had invited Frank to this meeting, after all. Frank
knew that much. Although it wasn't as though Dumbledore needed the boost to his credibility.
Emmet Fawley, sitting poised and relaxed, raised his own hand, and all those sitting near him
raised theirs too, along with a small handful of lone figures scattered around the room. "Twenty,"
said Dumbledore, with an air of finality. "Thus, with a clear majority, and as Chief Warlock of the
Wizengamot, I declare Emmett Fawley to be our-"
"Hold on, Dumbledore," said Bulstrode loudly, looking strangely smug. A few people groaned,
and there was some muttering. "You mentioned the Wizengamot Codex earlier. Surely you have
not forgotten the conditions upon which one must be voted in?"
Dumbledore frowned at him for a moment before his eyes widened infinitesimally.
Bulstrode's smirk grew. "Ah, so you do remember. If it comes to a vote, the Minister must be voted
in with at least a sixty percent majority. Now, unless I am mistaken, twenty votes for Emmett
Fawley out of a total of thirty nine people is not sixty percent. Am I correct?" Another wizard
whispered something in his ear and his smirk threatened to split his face. "Yes, that is correct. He
would need around twenty three votes." The wizard whispered something again and Bulstrode
nodded. "Twenty four votes if we are rounding up. Now the Codex doesn't specify which way we
must round, up or down, but that hardly matters now, does it? I'm afraid at this stage, Emmett
Fawley will not be our next Minister of Magic."
The muttering picked up again, and a few people looked panicked while those around Bulstrode
grinned like this had been planned all along.
Jedidiah frowned. "So what happens now?"
Dumbledore's expression was neutral, but Frank picked up on a thinly veiled anger in his tone. "For
now, nothing changes. We will reconvene at a later date, and will continue to do so until our…
majority is found."
"And until then?"
"Until then," Dumbledore hesitated, as though the words pained him, "Morgan Bulstrode shall
remain…"
"In charge," Bulstrode finished for him, his face looking oh-so-punchable.
James was not much of a note-taker in class, especially not as far as Potions was concerned.
Slughorn would talk, write something down and probably explain it quite well, but James' quill
would remain on his desk and his gaze would continue to wander around the room, completely
uninterested in the idea of learning.
Next to him, Sirius was doodling in a notebook. It was a dragon wearing dress robes and a pointy
hat, and rather than draw it cartoonishly Sirius had instead opted for a fearsome, hyper-realistic
dragon in dress robes and a hat, which James found to be an odd artistic choice.
"James, m'boy."
James looked up, startled. Somehow, Slughorn was right in front of him. "Hullo, Professor."
Slughorn glanced briefly at Sirius and hesitated. "Working hard, Black?"
Sirius didn't even look up. "Yes."
Slughorn looked back at James and cleared his throat. "James, m'boy," he said again.
"Professor," James said with a little less gusto.
"I've been meaning to speak with you, James. I host these little get-togethers now and again, you
might have heard of them-"
"The Slug Club."
Slughorn beamed. "My reputation precedes me it seems."
"No, you just talk about it a lot."

Slughorn didn't seem to have heard. "Now, James, I must have you at my Christmas party this
year. It's always a hoot. I bring in some very important people from all walks of life that I'm sure
you'd love to meet. You can bring a date along, have some drinks and refreshments before
a very stellar dinner. I think you'll quite like it. It's only a few weeks away, you know!"
Red hair entered his vision as Lily leaned forward to join the conversation. "You're joining the
Slug Club, Potter?"
He narrowed his eyes. "No."
"Oh my goodness, you're joining the Slug Club."
"I'm not joining the Slug Club!"
Sirius looked up then and gazed at Slughorn thoughtfully. "Why now?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Why are you only asking James now? This year, I mean. Is it because of how squeaky clean his
record is now?"
"Shut up," James mumbled.
"How he's become a positive role-model and a well-behaved, thoughtful-"
James shoved him and Sirius shoved him back and James pushed at his face-
"All those things are important," Slughorn said hurriedly, and they paused and glanced at him.
"James is certainly much more of a model student this year."
James jerked away from Sirius and glared at his desk, sulking.
"And, between you and me," continued Slughorn, lowering his voice dramatically and leaning
closer to James , "I've heard some rumblings amongst the staff about the Head Boy for next year.
You might like to know, your name has come up a few times, my boy!"
James snorted and looked at Sirius with a roll of his eyes, who was grinning up at Slughorn like he
was mad. "You do know how to tell a good joke, Professor," said Sirius. "I'll grant you that much."
Lily looked pensive and squinted at James' face. "You know, Potter, you wouldn't necessarily
make a terrible Head Boy when I think about it."
"Stop thinking about it," James muttered.
"You don't have to believe me, of course," chortled Slughorn as he stood up straight. "But you
should come to my party regardless."
James shook his head and tried to look apologetic. "Sorry, Professor. I just don't think I'd enjoy that
sort of thing."
"It was a nice try, Professor," said Sirius, still looking far too amused. "But it was never going to
work. I can't imagine what it would take to convince James to go to your party and join the Slug
Club."
"Come to think of it, Potter," said Lily suddenly, meeting James' eyes and smiling that smile that
made his stomach flip, "I still don't have a date to the party..."
Sirius' smile slowly faded and he looked back at his doodles. "Nevermind," he muttered.
Memories were fascinating things to be lost in. They dealt in perception and impression, thought
and feeling, allowing for glimpses into matters for which there could be no control.
Caradoc had spent days in his Pensieve. Ever since he'd walked into her living room and seen her
cold, pale, wide-eyed body spread eagled on the floor, he hadn't been able to rest. Blithe had done
this. And Caradoc's failure to catch Blithe had enabled this.
"Good morning!"
That was a short man that Eugenia had walked past when she reached the Ministry. After the
fourth viewing of this memory, Caradoc had taken to calling him Scrawny. It was Eugenia's
memory of the day the Douglass family had been murdered. She'd given him the memory at the
Ministry Halloween party, and Caradoc cursed himself for not delving into the memory sooner.
Maybe then he could have uncovered Blithe, and Eugenia's murder wouldn't be on his hands.
"Good morning," Eugenia said politely, striding onwards.
Could Scrawny be Blithe? It wasn't the first time the thought had entered Caradoc's mind, and he
knew it certainly wouldn't be the last.
She reached a reception desk and greeted the receptionist.
"Morning, Patricia," Caradoc said at the same time as Eugenia. He continued with Patricia's higher-
pitched response. "Good morning, Eugenia. A bit chilly out, isn't it?"
Eugenia and Caradoc nodded. "Yes, it is quite cold."
He sighed and walked away, leaving the two to finish their conversation. Eugenia would ask for
any important notes, Patricia would say no-
"Not unless you count Selwyn asking for another budget rise."
-and the two would laugh. He followed Eugenia on her way to her office. Could Patricia be Blithe?
She was more likely than Scrawny, that was for sure. Caradoc doubted Scrawny had the mettle in
him to be a murdering psychopath. In all fairness, neither did Patricia. Her eyes were too wide and
innocent. Caradoc reckoned that evil people were incapable of opening their eyes very wide. It just
didn't seem like the kind of thing they could do.
Eugenia sat at her desk for a few hours. Caradoc spent those hours with her, lounging about on the
floor, counting the tiles on the ceiling. He went with her for her lunch break, too. No suspicious
characters. A whole lot of Scrawny and Patricia types. Caradoc had names for them all. Stubby and
Stuffy and Shorty, Phillip and Phyllis and Phillippe. They all passed, as inconspicuous as the last.
Caradoc couldn't move far away from Eugenia. Every time he tried, he found himself right back
with her. The only world that existed here was Eugenia's world. It was a strangely intimate thing, to
only experience another person's world for days on end. He had gotten to know Eugenia quite well.
It wasn't romantic, mind. Merlin, no. She was more than ten years older than him. Not to mention
she was dead.
But still, it was intimate. He knew her mannerisms by heart, the way she'd scratch her head while
she wracked her brain about something, the way one side of her lips tilted slightly higher than the
other when she smiled. He'd even taken on the exact pace at which she walked into his muscle
memory.
All that, and he still had no leads. No clue whatsoever who Blithe was. The end of the day neared,
and as usual Caradoc was just as clueless as before. He sat on a bench while Eugenia stepped into
Emmett Fawley's office. He'd memorized this conversation too, of course.
"Eugenia," came Fawley's smooth voice. "How can I help?"
Caradoc stood and walked over to stand by the door he'd stood by every other time he'd witnessed
this conversation. Eugenia said the same thing as all the other times too. "Good afternoon,
Emmett."
Caradoc exhaled as they continued talking. He glanced around what he could see of the room. He
hadn't yet had a good look it at, really. It seemed basic enough. A desk, a bookcase, everything
neat and tidy and ordered, just as he'd come to expect of the head of his department.
He took a step further into the office and froze.
There was a man there. Standing beside Fawley, incredibly still. He had been obscured by the door
this whole time, and Caradoc would have been furious with himself for not entering the office
sooner if he wasn't so preoccupied with the man's appearance. He had seen the man before.
Dark skin, a pink tuxedo. Aviator sunglasses.
The man said nothing, as still as a statue. The conversation ended and he and Eugenia walked from
the office, past Bulstrode, who Caradoc had been focusing on up until this viewing of the memory,
reached Eugenia's own office. Caradoc barely paid attention as she rummaged through a folder and
realized someone had been in her office. She Disapparated and he went with her, into a meadow,
then into a cottage. He looked at the bodies of the Douglass family, but this time he looked past
them. The door had been blasted down. He couldn't be sure, there were plenty of ways to blast
down doors, but Caradoc reckoned he recognized the manner in which it seemed to have been
blasted.
The memory ended at the same place it always did, and suddenly Caradoc was stumbling away
from his Pensieve, collapsing onto his couch.
"I can't believe this."
The portrait of Othello Dearborn hanging on the wall of his flat awoke with a start. "What's the
matter, boy?"
Caradoc's eyes trailed over the walls and messy floor of his flat, his mind racing. "I've found a lead,
Uncle O. I think I might know who Blithe is."
Othello's usually grumpy and lined features turned up in a smile. "Splendid, boy! Absolutely
splendid."
Othello Dearborn had died just the previous year. He had been in a duel with a Death Eater, a most
fearsome and epic duel from what Caradoc had heard, and Othello had put up an incredible fight.
Then he'd taken a step back and been eaten by a manticore.
"There was a man in Emmett Fawley's office. I've… I've seen him before, Uncle O. A couple
times."
"Congratulations, boy," said Othello, nodding.
"The previous time was actually the Halloween party at which Eugenia gave me this memory in the
first place! He was with Emmett Fawley that time too, but I hadn't recognized him then. The other
time I saw him was… a few months ago."
"I am so happy for you."
"I was on a mission with Anton and the were-wolf boy, Remus."
"Were-wolves," said Othello, tapping his temple with a knowing smile, "Dangerous ones, them."
"No, he's fine. But this man, this associate of Fawley's turned up and killed Cassus Lucio. Lucio
was an important informant, he'd given us information on Blithe. Whoever this man is, he must be
associated with Blithe."
Othello clasped his hands. "Wonderful."
"And I think he killed the Douglass family, too."
In his mind's eye, Caradoc recalled the night Lucio had been killed. The dark-skinned man had
rung the doorbell. He'd blasted the door down, wearing a teal tuxedo that time, thrown a barrage of
spells at Caradoc, and then blasted Caradoc himself through a few walls. Caradoc didn't need a
Pensieve. He was certain the dark-skinned man's blasting spell was the same one used on the
Douglass family's door. The man had killed the Douglass family, and that same day he had met
with… Emmett Fawley.
He sat up slowly. "Oh, Merlin."
"What?"
He stood. "I have to go."
"Safe travels, nephew."
"I- I really have to go." Caradoc grabbed his coat and walked to the fireplace, grasping a handful of
Floo powder and looking back at his uncle, who was already drifting back to sleep. "Uncle O… I
think the Head of the Auror Department is a Death Eater."
Frank looked from Dumbledore to Windstrum to the fast-talking man with ash on his face and soot
in his hair, feeling a little confused.
"This is," said Dumbledore, frowning at his desk, "grave news."
"Fawley," Windstrum said with a shake of his head. "It was right in front of us this whole time."
The man looked at Windstrum and nodded. "I could be wrong, still. It might not be him. For all we
know, Blithe may not even be someone who works in the Ministry."
Windstrum nodded. "You're right, of course. That possibility cannot be ruled out, as unlikely as it
may seem."
"From the looks of things, however," said Dumbledore, looking up at them, "we have finally found
our mole."
"Um…" said Frank.
They all looked over at him.
"Ah, Frank," said Windstrum. "Come in."
"Frank Longbottom?" asked the man, striding over and offering his hand. "Caradoc Dearborn,
pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Likewise," he said slowly.
"Frank," said Dumbledore, gesturing to him to sit, "Caradoc has been working with Professor
Windstrum for some months now to uncover a spy who was working closely with Eugenia Jenkins
and feeding information to the Death Eaters. Caradoc himself is a spy of our own-"
"Should we really be telling him that?" asked Caradoc with a frown.
"-and he has been undercover, working in close quarters with some very dangerous individuals. I
expect you to be discreet about this, of course."
"Can I tell Alice and James and all of that lot?"
Dumbledore thought about this for a moment before nodding. "I don't see why not."
"I do," protested Caradoc.
"After an extensive investigation, we finally have an idea who Blithe is," Windstrum said.
"Blithe?"
"The spy."
"Right. Who is it?"
The two teachers glanced at Caradoc, who looked at Frank gravely. "Emmett Fawley."
Frank hesitated. "The Head of the Auror Department?"
"The very one."
"But- but James' dad is smart. He trusts Fawley."
"So did Eugenia," said Windstrum quietly.
Frank didn't know what to say to that, until his eyes widened suddenly and he remembered why he
had come here in the first place. "The vote. We're voting for the next Minister again today. Fawley
looks set to win it!"
Dumbledore nodded, gave a heavy sigh. "He does indeed. It seems drastic measures are quickly
becoming necessary."
"What are you going to do?"
Dumbledore gave him a light smile. "Something drastic." He looked back to Caradoc. "Find the
identity of this man associated with Fawley - the one who killed Cassus Lucio. We need definitive
proof of Fawley's involvement."
Caradoc nodded and walked briskly to the fireplace. He stopped and looked back. "Make sure that
man doesn't become the Minister, if you please."
Dumbledore inclined his head.
Half an hour later, they were back at the Ministry. Back in that courtroom that had no right being
as large as it was. The same crowd had gathered, but it was different now. Bulstrode and Falwey,
the two top competitors for Minister of Magic, were both Death Eaters? It was unthinkable.
"You lot don't look nearly excited enough to be here again," said Sawyer Hughes with a grin,
dropping down to sit with Dumbledore, Windstrum, Moody, and Frank again.
"Circumstances have changed since last week," said Dumbledore quietly. "I am glad you've found
us, Sawyer - I'm afraid I must ask for your forgiveness."
Sawyer blinked. "What?"
Dumbledore stood. He didn't need to clear his throat for everyone else in the room to stop talking
and look at him. "We will pick up right where we left off, I think. Until there is a majority of at
least sixty percent, there will be no Minister of Magic."
"There sort of will," said Bulstrode from the other side of the room.
"No," said Jedidiah Hobart, shaking his head. "There really won't."
"If you recall," continued Dumbledore, "last week we were unable to reach the sixty percent
majority. For the sake of progress, if nothing else, I implore you all to reconsider your votes."
"How can we reconsider," said a bearded man sitting by himself, not far from Frank, "when the
options are exactly the same?"
Dumbledore gave a smile that almost seemed to say I'm glad you asked. "Because I have decided to
put forward a new name for your consideration."
There was muttering around the room, and people leaned forward a little. Morgan Bulstrode
looked taken aback and peered at Dumbledore. "Who is it?
Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles glinted, and his smile curved that little bit more. "Sawyer
Hughes."
"What?" said Sawyer, looking utterly confused.
"What?" said Bulstrode, both confused and angry.
But Frank's gaze was on Emmett Fawley, whose black eyes bored into Sawyer's face before
drifting to rest on Dumbledore. "And what, if I may ask, Dumbledore, has brought on this sudden
change of heart?"
Dumbledore turned his smile onto Fawley. "Why, Emmett, Sawyer Hughes is your superior. One
would think that this is merely a natural progression."
Windstrum nodded and spoke up, his voice carrying through the room with that well-modulated
timbre that only comes with practice. "He's right, Fawley. Why have the Head of the Auror
Department when we can have the Head of Magical Law Enforcement? I think Hughes is a much
better fit."
"Do I get any say in this?" Sawyer whispered to Dumbledore and Windstrum sharply.
Windstrum jerked his head. No.
"Anton Windstrum," sneered Fawley. "Part of me is wondering why you are even here in the first
place. You don't work in the Ministry. Why do you get to vote at this meeting?" Windstrum
surveyed him coolly and said nothing. "Ah, that's right," Fawley continued. "Because you're well
connected."
Windstrum shrugged. "I can't help that I have friends in high places. I'm a people person."
"He could have been Minister himself, if he'd put his mind to it," chimed in Bulstrode, looking at
Windstrum with venom. "But Dumbledore's golden-boy turned away from a life of success and
responsibility so he could wander off and play in jungles and mountain ranges around the world."
"A child by any other name," spat Fawley. "And now look at him. He's come crawling back to the
thick of things, his tail between his legs. What's wrong, Anton? Did a snake bite your balls?"
Awkward laughs and mumblings filled the air.
"Can everyone who has a problem with me get in a line?" Windstrum called to the room at large.
"I'm happy to smack you all around and you'll save me the trouble of walking."
"I think," said Dumbledore loudly, bringing all eyes to him once more, "that this has gotten away
from us. Will there be any more nominations to compete with Mr Fawley and Mr Bulstrode, aside
from Sawyer Hughes?" Barty Crouch sat still this time, head down. No? Splendid. We shall take a
ten minute break then, and vote once more when we return." He turned and started walking. The
rest of the room took their cues and broke off, some staying seated and chatting, others leaving the
room in dribs and drabs. Frank followed Dumbledore out, Windstrum and Sawyer right behind
him. Moody stayed seated.
When they were out, they gathered in a small bunch in the corridor. Others from the meeting
rushed around them, gathering in their own groups.
"What the hell is this, Dumbledore?" snapped Sawyer. "You think I want to be the Minister of
Magic?"
"I truly am sorry to put this burden on you all of a sudden," said Dumbledore calmly, "but I'm
afraid I had no choice." He looked around, making sure no-one was within earshot. "We have
reason to believe Emmett Fawley is compromised. It is quite likely that he is a Death Eater."
"What?"
"As you can imagine, we'd rather he didn't take on the most powerful job in Britain."
"But why me?" pressed Sawyer. "Why not you? Or Moody? Or even Anton?"
"Oh, not you, too," groaned Windstrum. "Look, I was an ambitious teenager, and my dreams of
wealth and success were crushed by the true nature of man. I haven't wanted the job in some time
now. Can we move on?"
"What does that even mean?" Frank asked, frowning at Windstrum and not expecting an answer.
He didn't get one.
"Why me, Dumbledore?" Sawyer said again, sounding resigned but frustrated.
"Aside from the fact that as Head of Magical Law Enforcement you have close to the highest
authority in the Ministry, immense respect from all your peers, and an incredible influence on these
people," said Dumbledore, gesturing towards the courtroom, "the most prominent reason is that I
think you are the best person for the job. You are capable, clever, charismatic, and most
importantly trustworthy. I cannon stress enough how valuable that trait is in these trying times."
The glowing praise had clearly worn Sawyer down. His frustration had turned into the smallest of
smiles. "Well… thank you, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore patted his shoulder. "I expect that with this, we have stolen most of Emmett Fawley's
voters from last week, along with a few of Bulstrode's, perhaps. That will be a clear majority.
We will make you Minister, Mr Hughes."
Windstrum looked over Dumbledore's shoulder and cleared his throat. "That can't be good."
Frank glanced back to see Emmett Fawley deep in conversation with Bulstrode. They did not look
comfortable with one another, but nor did they look nearly as hostile as one would think the two
competitors would be.
"That's just about the final nail in the coffin," said Windstrum, eyeing them shrewdly. He glanced
back at Sawyer. "Bulstrode is a known Death Eater affiliate."
"That much I know," said Sawyer, looking pleased to not be completely out of the loop.
"What do you think they're talking about?" Frank asked.
"Somehow," said Windstrum, "I doubt it's Quidditch."
They didn't have to wait long to find out. Once they'd all reassembled in the courtroom and
Dumbledore called them to order, the vote began anew.
"All in favor of Morgan Bulstrode?"
Not a single hand went up. Not even Bulstrode's. Dumbledore hesitated for the briefest of moments
before nodding. "Zero. All in favor of Sawyer Hughes?" He raised his own hand. Windstrum,
Moody, and Sawyer joined him. Around the room, Frank saw Harold Minchum, Sawyer's dark-
haired friend, raise his hand, Jedidiah and his group raise their hands, some of Fawley's supporters
from last week, and a handful more familiar faces. It was a strong showing. Unfortunately, it was
not enough. "Twenty-one."
What happened next was rather obvious. When Dumbledore called Emmett Fawley's name, the
rest of the hands in the room went up. It was a mix of Bulstrode's lot and Fawley's - what was left
of them, at any rate. Clearly, predicting many of their voters would switch to Sawyer, the two had
managed to come to some sort of agreement. Bulstrode and Fawley were officially in cahoots.
"Eighteen," said Dumbledore quietly.
Bulstrode gestured widely. "Alas, twenty-one to eighteen. We still haven't reached our sixty
percent majority. And I even changed my vote this time!" Some chuckled, others muttered darkly
to each other. "With great reluctance," he continued, smugness personified, "I suppose I shall
continue to bear the responsibility of power, until a majority is reached."
"How did he do the math so fast?" Windstrum whispered. "Do you think we should start teaching
math at Hogwarts?"
Frank frowned. "What do you think Arithmancy is?"
Windstrum frowned right back at him. "Does that involve numbers?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Well okay then."
"Evidently," said Dumbledore, his brows knotted, "we will not be able to resolve this matter today.
For now, as with last week, nothing shall change. In the meantime, I ask you all to rethink your
votes once more in the hope that we might finally reach a verdict."
With sighs and grumbles, people started getting up to leave. A few stayed seated, glaring at anyone
they could think to glare at if it meant they could just be done with this whole affair.
"It's in Bulstrode's best interests to stall for as long as he can," Sawyer noted. "Clearly, he's realized
that."
Windstrum nodded. "The longer it takes to vote you in, Sawyer, the longer Bulstrode remains in
power."
Slowly, the group trudged out of the room with that heavy feeling of their time having been wasted.
"What now?" Frank asked.
"Now, Frank," sighed Dumbledore, "we wait. Then we'll vote. Then we'll likely vote again. In all
honesty, I do not see this being resolved any time soon."
Frank couldn't quite grasp what he was hearing. "But then that means…"
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Until we finish this vote, both the Ministry and the Auror
Department are effectively run by Death Eaters."
It did not bode well. Remus listened to Frank, as did James, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, Alice, and Peter.
They sat in the Gryffindor Common Room at a late hour, possibly past midnight, Remus figured. It
certainly helped to have the Head Boy and two Prefects among them, Remus himself included.
Anyone who told them to go to bed would look at their faces and close their mouths. He could tell
James and Sirius enjoyed that immensely.
"This is a lot to take in," said Alice slowly. "So Eugenia Jenkins was killed. The Head of the Auror
Department is a Death Eater. The man running the Ministry for now is also a Death Eater. And his
replacement could be the Head of the Auror Department who is, again, a Death Eater."
"It's not looking good," Frank agreed. He was staring at Alice while she looked into the fireplace
ponderously.
Remus figured it was time to confess. "I had some inkling of this all."
His friends paused for a moment and then snapped their gazes over to him.
"What does that mean?" asked Sirius.
"I knew Bulstrode was a Death Eater affiliate and that there is a spy in the Ministry who goes by
Blithe."
James sat forward. "And you didn't tell us?"
"I had strict instructions not to."
"You're terrible at keeping secrets though," Sirius protested.
"I'm actually quite good," Remus said patiently. "You and James are just far too nosy and you have
a knack for… finding things out."
He, James, Sirius, and Peter took a moment to quietly grin at each other. The rest of their friends
looked to one another in bewilderment.
"Well," said James eventually, "how did you know?"
"I went on a 'field trip' with Professor Windstrum once. That man you met, Frank? Caradoc
Dearborn? He and Windstrum are good friends, they met at Hogwarts. We went snooping around
Britain for a few days, hunting for clues."
The others stared at him with slackened jaws. Some particular faces were envious. Sirius found his
words first. "How come they asked you?"
"Sirius!" Marlene whacked him on the shoulder. "Remus has just as much to offer as the rest of us,
if not more so. He's very talented."
Sirius rubbed his shoulder and glared. Remus knew his friend's shoulder wasn't really hurt. Sirius
Black had wrestled with one too many werewolves for that. No, Remus instead attributed the
movement to the fact that Sirius' fingers happened to graze with Marlene's on the way up. Marlene
didn't notice. Remus wasn't even sure Sirius had done it intentionally. He just found it amusing.
"So Remus has been a part of this long before us all," Frank mused. "Come to think of it, that
Caradoc fellow might have mentioned your name at some point. I sort of just figured he was mad.
He did seem it."
Remus nodded. "Caradoc is sort of losing his mind. He's an Auror and a spy for Dumbledore.
When he's not with Death Eaters trying to act like a a bigoted lunatic, he's at the Ministry, where
they cannot know that he's doing this work for Dumbledore on the side."
"Caradoc Dearborn," said James thoughtfully. "My father has spoken of him a few times. He
became an Auror only a few years ago and made a decent name for himself."
Marlene nodded. "He's visited my folks a few times, actually. He and my mum are distant cousins I
think."
"None of these names are even remotely familiar to me," said Lily, wrinkling her nose and looking
between them all blankly.
"Or me," said Peter with something of a mournful tone, as he spoke for what seemed like the first
time that night.
James glanced at them both pityingly. "Change of topic, then."
"Don't patronize me, Potter."
"My sweet, I would never-"
"We might as well change the topic," said Frank loudly, before the two could derail the
conversation further. "Have there been any developments with Snape and his recruits?"
"None," said Peter, looking glad to contribute. "I've been tailing him whenever I can, and while he
is definitely still a twat, there is nothing sinister going on right now."
Sirius nodded. "If there were any group meetings between that lot, we would know."
The others waited with curious expressions, hoping for an explanation. By now though, Remus
guessed, they knew better than to ask for one.
"Good to hear," said Frank after a few moments. "As far as Snape's lot is concerned, no news is
good news."
"From what we heard when we did catch them meeting," said Alice, "something is going to happen
during Christmas break."
Marlene grimaced. "Not a lot we can do about it then though, is there?"
The others all shook their hands. It wasn't like they could follow Snape and his recruits around for
the whole break - and despite himself, Remus had to wonder who would even want to. Eventually
James clapped his hands. "That's everything on the agenda then, right?"
Frank nodded. "Just about."
There was a brief silence. They sat around in their armchairs or sprawled on the floor in front of the
fireplace and the only noise was coming from the crackling wood.
"I love Christmas," Lily said suddenly, smiling at them all.
Groans and sighs.
"We know," said Marlene flatly.
"How do you bring that up out of nowhere?" Sirius demanded. "None of us were talking about
Christmas."
Lily folded her arms and tossed her hair. "We're all sitting round the fireplace and enjoying each
other's company. That screams Christmas to me."
"Lily, I love you," said Alice, grimacing at her, "but your love for Christmas is unhealthy."
"You guys, it's December! As far as I'm concerned, this is normal behaviour." She turned her nose
up in the air.
"It is a little unhealthy," James told her, almost apologetically.
Lily harrumphed and turned her head away from him, too.
"See, Lily?" said Marlene. "Even James will admit it, and he's still trying to butter you up for
your date next week."
"Not a date," James said instantly.
"That's right," said Lily, sparing him an approving glance. "We are going to the party as friends.
Because we are friends."
"Just to clarify, though," said Sirius with a frown, "what is James going with you as?"
She eyed Sirius darkly and spoke through gritted teeth. "He's going as my date."
"And yet you insist it is not a date," Sirius said, eyebrow raised.
"It's not," James insisted. "Look, you can take just about anyone as your date, but you can take far
less people on a date." He looked rather pleased with himself for coming up with that, but the rest
of them stared and waited for him to make sense. He sighed. "Listen. You can take anyone as a
date to, say, a dance - your friend, relative, whatever. But if you're taking them on a date, you most
definitely should not take a relative."
After a moment, Frank spoke. "It's not exactly ground-breaking news that we shouldn't go taking
our relatives on dates, James."
James sighed. "You're not listening."
"I'm going to bail James out of whatever point he's trying to make," Alice interrupted, "and change
the subject again with a little piece of gossip."
"Oh, I love gossip," said Frank, to everyone's surprise.
She eyed him, amused. "Right, well… fantastic. Anyway, I heard Aisling Byrne is spending the
break at Brady Walsh's house."
As they talked, Remus kept an eye on the peculiar ways his friends were behaving. Frank himself,
for starters, couldn't keep his eyes off Alice. Historically speaking, this was not anything new, but
considering Frank had a girlfriend, and had kept himself at arm's length from Alice for the last few
months, it did strike Remus as odd. Alice for her part had eyes only for Frank, which Remus
supposed he couldn't really fault, seeing as she was single and clearly, from what Remus could tell,
interested.
James and Lily, on the other hand, were a myriad of things. They were behaving the same as
always around each other, and yet completely differently. The insults and the teasing were still
there, but were now mixed with lingering eye contact and a few smiles thrown in here and there.
James would make a passing joke and Lily would roll her eyes at him, but now Remus could see
amusement in her eyes while they rolled. And that was all without mentioning how jumpy the two
were with each other in regards to their… appointment together at Slughorn's Christmas party in
little less than a week. If it came up, one would change the subject, or both would act like there
was nothing unusual at all about the two of them going together. Remus, at least, knew it was very
unusual.
And that left Sirius and Marlene. Remus wasn't even sure there was anything going on there. For
once, as unbelievable as it seemed, Sirius only wanted to be friends with this girl. Remus wouldn't
have believed it if he wasn't watching his good friend first-hand, but Sirius seemed genuinely
pleased to simply have Marlene around… as a person. That in itself was the most bizarre thing
Remus could observed among his friends. Regardless, it was all enough to put a somewhat sappy
smile on his face. It seemed he and Peter were the only shamefully lonely sods of the group.
He tuned back into the conversation as they started discussing various couples around the castle.
"Isaac and Sophie are not together," Marlene scoffed. "They're just friends."
Alice shook her head. "No such thing." Frank looked at her quickly but she didn't seem to notice.
"There is so," piped up James. "Two people can like each other without having to like each other."
Again he had the lot of them staring at him in confusion, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, you
know what I mean. You can like someone the same way you like Chocolate Frogs, but then you
can like someone the same way Evans likes the library."
She slapped his arm. "Oh, shut up, Potter. But I do agree with the general idea - you like your
friend, but you like your lover."
Sirius made a disgusted face. "Did she just say lover?"
Frank looked intrigued. "That is an interesting way to look at things. To like is platonic, but
to like is romantic."
James beamed. "Exactly!"
Remus wanted to call all his friends idiots, but he was much too busy laughing with the lot of them
to do so.
"So your best friend is joining the Slug Club," said Marlene, propping her feet up on Sirius' lap.
The others had long since left the Common Room. It was getting close to sunrise. "What's that
like?"
Sirius shifted his position on the floor. "Your best friend has been in it for years, you should know
better than me."
"Ah, but I have another best friend in Alice. Less shame for me that way."
Sirius snorted. "That might be the way to go."
"Yes, I do find it to be. So who gets the big promotion, then? For best friend, I mean. Remus?
Pete?"
He eyed her curiously. "I have half a mind to make it you, McKinnon."
She raised an eyebrow from her own spot on the floor. "What have I told you about hitting on me,
Black?"
"To never stop doing it."
"That doesn't sound like something I'd say."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
She shrugged. "Liar, git, idiot, hot-headed fool - take your pick."
He laughed, looking at the fireplace for a moment before turning back to her. "I wasn't even joking,
though. Why can't you be one of my best friends?"
"Because you certainly aren't one of my best friends."
"Weirdly, I'm okay with that."
"You're okay with a nearly one-sided friendship," she said dubiously.

He nodded, smirking. "James has lasted years dealing with far worse."
"But James also really likes Lily."
"He does…"
She narrowed her eyes. "It feels awfully like you're hitting on me, Black."
"And to me, it feels awfully like you don't want to be one of my best friends."
"Good. I'm making a concerted effort to make it feel that way."
Sirius sighed and looked at her flatly. "Why?"
She seemed to ponder her answer, and it took a few moments for her to provide it. "If you do
become one of my close friends, Black, maybe then I'll tell you why."
He frowned, then hesitated. "You are… erm, well, you are attracted to men, right?"
She stared at him. He gave her a smile that he wanted to look encouraging, but probably looked
pained. Marlene shook her head and closed her eyes. "Let me get this straight. In the head of Sirius
Black, if a woman doesn't want to sleep with him, she must not be attracted to men."
Sirius tilted his head. "Well that wasn't quite what I was thinking, but how far is it from the truth,
really?"
She shook her head again and sighed. "Yes, Black, I am attracted to guys. Very much so."
He gestured wildly. "Then what is it? What's stopping us?"
She looked at him for another prolonged moment, seeming to mull over her answer, before she
suddenly frowned and looked incredulous. "Why did you make it romantic again?"
"I didn't make it romantic."
"You asked why I'm not attracted to you!"
"No, you just decided to start going on about being attracted to men!"
She gasped. "Because you asked me!"
Sirius paused. "Oh, yeah, I did." Marlene slumped back and shook her head. He grinned at her.
"Did we just have our first fight?"
She banged her head against the sofa behind her and groaned. "Stop making everything sound
romantic."
"I hate when we fight," he continued. "But I can't stay mad at you."
"Black, I will hurt you."
"Even if I'm not a close friend of yours, you're still a close friend of mine," he said. She looked at
him, waiting. "So it's not you, it's me."
"Argh!" She took her feet off his lap and stood in a huff. "I'm going to bed."
Sirius smirked as she started storming off, looking to tease her more. "Love you, McKinnon!"
Marlene paused on her way to the staircase and looked back, frowning slightly.
"Too much?"
"A little."
Sirius nodded, taking it in stride. "Duly noted. Night, McKinnon."
She smiled at him finally, almost reluctantly. "Goodnight, Black."
With that she headed up the stairs, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts in the Common Room.
Glancing out the window, he could see the first rays of sunlight poking out over the horizon,
leaking strings and cracks of blue and orange into the lightening night sky.
Sighing, Sirius got to his feet and readied himself for a very short sleep. Or perhaps a lengthy
sleep. After all, Potions was the first class of the day, and the last thing a person needed on a
morning of very little sleep was Professor Slughorn.
Lily's tenure at the Slug Club had begun in her Fourth Year. With Severus Snape at her side she
had stepped into a dinner-party for twenty and discovered that yes, Horace Slughorn really was just
as narcissistic as he let on. A parade of self-indulgence under the guise of cultivating talent and
potential among promising students, she had met politicians she didn't know, Quidditch players she
didn't care about, and a real life vampire, all so her Professor could demonstrate how well-
connected he was. And once Lily and her fellow Slug-Club members grew up and became
successful, she knew he would parade them around too, maintaining his neat little cycle, all from
the comfort of his armchair with his perpetual box of Crystallised Pineapple in hand.
"I'm finally going to meet a vampire."
Lily looked at James shrewdly as they walked down a corridor on their way to the party. "I said the
vampire was there one time. I haven't seen him since."
"It's a he?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
She narrowed her eyes. "Oh what?"
"A female vampire would have been much more exciting, that's all."
Lily wanted to punch him and she didn't know why. "Potter, why would a female vampire be more
exciting?"
He hesitated. "She would have had a richer personality and… and we could have talked about
knitting and stuff."
She fixed him with a disgusted look. "You thought you could hook up with her."
"I thought I could hook up with her," he admitted.
She wanted to punch him again, the urge even stronger now, and still she had no idea why. It
worried her, for she was not a violent person. "Potter, you know vampires live for hundreds of
years, right?"
"Well I didn't want to marry her, Evans."
"No, I mean she would have already been a few hundred years old. That's disgusting."
His jaw dropped. "Evans… are you bigoted?"
"What?"
"Do you not like vampires?"
"There is nothing wrong with vampires-"
"But you don't think vampires and non-vampires should be in relationships?"
"Of course not."
"Evans," he looked genuinely surprised, "that is a really prejudiced thing to say. Vampires are just
like you and me."
"Except they kill people."
"Some of them kill people," he corrected. "That is a really harmful stigma, Evans. A lot of them are
pacifists."
"They drink blood, Potter!"
"So? We eat chickens."
"Chickens are not humans!"
"And humans are not vampires."
Her eyes bugged out of her head. "So?"
"So," he said patiently, "it's all about perspective, isn't it? Chickens probably feel the same way
about us as you do about vampires."
She was almost yelling now. "Chickens don't have intelligent thought, Potter!"
He wagged a finger at her. "That's what a lot of Pure-blood purists say about Muggles, you know."
"Potter, I am this close to strangling you." And she was. Lily abhorred violence, yet somehow
James Potter made her embrace it like an old friend.
"I'm only saying it can't hurt to have an open mind."
"You want me to have an open mind about a sixteen year old boy being with a creature that's over a
hundred?"
"There you go with the C-word, Evans. When you call them that, you dehumanize them. You must
know that."
She closed her eyes briefly. "Potter. I can't dehumanize them. They are not humans."
"That's just sad."

"That's just the facts!"
"I'm really disappointed in you, Evans."
She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was smiling. She closed her eyes again, only for a
different reason now. "Oh, you are a tosser."
"Evans."
"You're joking, aren't you? You're winding me up."
"Evans, you have a bit of red on your face."
"I'm going to kill you."
"You're so cute when you're murderous."
She glanced at him again, half a mind to finally give in and punch him, and he ruffled his hair
absent-mindedly. She paused. Something about the way he did that… she couldn't pin her finger on
it, but something flashed through her mind, sprinted through her belly. He lowered his arm and the
feeling left just as quickly as it came.
James met her gaze and gave her a grin. They had reached Slughorn's office, and stopped by the
door. He turned his body a little to face her. "Quick snog before we go in?"
"Potter, on Merlin's grave I swear to you-"
"Alright, alright," he said, laughing as he held the door open for her. "In we go, then."
She rolled her eyes and walked in. Slughorn's office was done a disservice by calling it an office.
Even under normal circumstances it was large, unnecessarily so. When an office is fit to hold a
banquet, that should be a good indication that something is unusual. Luxurious rugs and armchairs,
a fireplace big enough to cook a hippogriff, and a balcony. Lily had to wonder what the balcony
was for if not strictly for parties. She didn't see Slughorn as the type to ever fancy some fresh air.
Regardless, it was excessive. The mental part to Lily was, all of that was under normal
circumstances. For this Christmas party, the office walls had expanded to twice as far apart as
normal. Really, the office could have taken up half the Great Hall. Clearly some magic was afoot.
Christmas decorations covered almost every inch of the place. Mistletoe and baubles, stockings
and Christmas trees, Slughorn had gone all out. The abundance of red and white and green and
gold made Lily giddy. Merlin, she loved Christmas.
Of course, what good were extravagance and splendour without anyone to show it all off to? Close
to a hundred people filled the office, talking and laughing and sipping drinks from fancy glasses.
Waiters carried around finger-foods, a jazz band bum-bum-bum-ed and tring-tring-tring-ed their
way through catchy tunes in a corner, and picture frames of Slughorn himself with famous people
adorned all the walls and some tables.
She looked at James, watching his expression closely.
He took it all in with interest, a smile growing on his face. "Evans, you should have invited me to
one of these sooner."
She grinned. She wanted him to like it all. She didn't know why. "You should have stopped being a
git sooner, Potter."
He snorted and glanced at her before turning back to gaze at the room. Together, wordlessly, the
two strode forwards and joined the throng of people. It should have been chaos and impossible to
find anyone, but within seconds Slughorn was in front of them and beholding them both. "My
word, aren't you two a sight!" His cheeks already had the red tinge of Firewhisky's kiss. His smile
seemed stuck to his face, only able to widen or shrink, never leave. "Potter, I'm ever so glad you
could make it. Dress robes do you a great service, my good man."
James grinned, the ghost of his smirk hiding just behind it. "Thank you, Professor. I am ever so
glad to be here." Lily had to admit, he did look rather dashing in dress robes. From the neck up he
was as scruffy and unkempt as ever, but his robes were grand. Not loose, not tight, sitting casually
upon his shoulders, like it had fallen onto him and he had decided to keep it. The way it billowed
around him as he walked somehow struck Lily the same way Dumbledore's robes did as he walked.
There was something grand, of importance about the way James looked in his robes, and Lily
would be a liar if she said she hadn't been flustered when she'd walked down the stairs to the girl's
dormitory and into the Common Room to find him waiting for her, his eyes becoming full and
quickly alight with a dancing fire. She'd brushed the feeling off, of course, but it came back
fleetingly as she stood there with him in front of Slughorn.
"And Miss Evans," said Slughorn, his jolly face turning to her now. "You, my dear, are
as bewitching as always."
"Thank… you."
He nodded quickly, his smile widening. "Come, come. There are some people the two of you
simply must meet." He took both their shoulders and ushered them through the crowd.
Lily leaned in close to James behind Slughorn's frame. "It seems we simply must meet some
people."
He leaned in a little, too. "Try not to distract them too much with how bewitching you are, my
dear."
She winked. "No promises, Potter."
"Here we are," said Slughorn. Lily jerked back to face ahead and found a man in front of them. He
was blonde haired and handsome, wearing black robes and a white cloak. "James, Lily, meet
Sawyer Hughes, Head of Magical Law Enforcement and, if you believe the rumors, our next
Minister of Magic!"
Sawyer rolled his eyes at the Potions master. "All rumors, Horace."
"Of course, of course." Slughorn nudged him. "I've also heard Emmett Fawley is in the running."
Sawyer regarded him shrewdly. "How could you possibly know that?"
Slughorn ignored the question. "Sawyer, this is Lily Evans and James Potter, the brightest witch
and wizard in Sixth Year."
"In the school," James corrected. "Brightest in the school."
Lily elbowed him sharply. Sawyer regarded the two of them with amusement. "I see. I know your
father, James. Served under him for a good few years. He was actually responsible for my
promotion - he helped me become his own boss."
James smiled wryly. "That sounds like my old man, alright."

"Frank has mentioned you two," Sawyer said thoughtfully. "At least I think he did."
"Frank?" said Lily. "Frank Longbottom?"
"Yeah, I met him a couple weeks back. Good lad."
Her eyes widened slightly as she recalled all Frank had told the lot of them about the meetings at
the Ministry. She wasn't even sure if she was supposed to know about it all.
"Oh, you should have said you know Frank, Sawyer," said Slughorn. "He's here at this party!"
"Really? I haven't seen him."
Slughorn looked ecstatic. "I'll take you to him."
"No, there's no need-"
"Nonsense! Come along, Sawyer, I must connect you both."
"We've met already…"
The two bustled off, and James and Lily grinned at each other in their wake.
"I want some of whatever Slughorn's having," James said, shaking his head.
She nudged him. "Let's go get some then."
They made their way through the crowd towards a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. When they
lifted their fancy glasses off the tray, the waiter wandered off and in his place appeared none other
than Frank Longbottom, arm in arm with Amelia Fawcett. She was pretty, her hair hanging by her
shoulders, shiny. Her dress robes were radiant and purple.
"How are we?" Frank asked, tipping his head at them both. Amelia smiled politely beside him.
"Grand, mate," said James, bumping his shoulder. "Slughorn's looking for you, by the way."
"Oh, joy."
"He's got a friend of yours with him. Sawyer Hughes."
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Slughorn's dragging him around," Lily snorted. "He didn't look pleased."
Frank laughed. Amelia shook his arm and leaned in. "I'm going to grab another drink. You want
anything?"
"Nah, I'm alright. You go, I'll be right along." She nodded and slipped away. Frank watched her go,
looking deep in thought.
James caught his eye. "By her being here, I'm assuming you've made your mind up about what we
discussed the other week?"
Frank hesitated. "Quite the opposite." He looked from James to Lily, as though wondering how
candid he could be, before seeming to cease caring. "I don't know what to do. Amelia is nice and I
care for her, I really do. But she's not Alice. When I look at Alice I feel elated and nauseous, like
I'm falling and flying at the same time. I'm happy and giddy and nervous. It's a rush. It's
adrenaline."
"And with Amelia," said James, finishing the thought, "you don't have that."
"Yes, but James…" Frank looked in pain, "I have Amelia already. There's no guarantee about
Alice."
Lily realized Frank had somehow failed to notice the longing glances Alice had been throwing his
way for the last few months. "Frank, I think you should go with your gut. Take the leap, trust me."
Frank shook his head. "But I like Amelia."
"You like her," James said, putting a hand on Frank's shoulder, "but you don't like her."
Frank stared at him. After some seconds, his eyes slowly cleared, like a fog was being lifted, and a
dumb grin started to spread across his face. "James, old boy… you might have done it! Putting
things into perspective like that, you might have really done it!"
"It barely made sense," Lily said with a slight shake of her head, more to herself than anything.
"This makes everything so much clearer," Frank said, still sounding shocked. "I know exactly what
to do."
James nodded approvingly and clapped his shoulder. "Go on, then, Longbottom. Off with you. I'm
sure you have some business to attend to now."
Frank nodded, grinned, turned on his heel and was lost to the crowd. Around them, the crowd
swelled, their space diminishing more and more. Lily sipped her drink, grimaced as the bitter,
burning taste seared down her throat. There were way too many people here.
James took her arm. "Balcony?"
It was like he could read her mind. She nodded simply. "Balcony."
They pushed and sidled their way through the crowd. The air started to thin, and then suddenly
they were walking out onto the small balcony, taking in the school grounds and the stars and the
lake glittering in the moonlight. Wind pulled at Lily's hair, brushing against her face. James leaned
against the railing and Lily joined him.
She glanced at him, waiting for him to make something of the view. He reached up and ruffled his
hair, the same as before, and again a jolt ran through Lily. It was the strangest feeling, like air
rising from her belly to her throat and running back down again. Her arms tingled. It must have
been the wind, or the altitude.
James met her gaze and smiled. It was only a slightly lopsided smile, but it still brought a soft
smile of her own out to meet it. "The weather is nice," he said, clasping his hands on the railing.
She raised an eyebrow. "All this beautiful scenery and you choose to comment on the weather,
Potter?"
His arm brushed hers. "There's only one thing out here that's beautiful, Evans, and you know it."
She waited. On any other girl, his words would have had them beaming and blushing at the praise,
but Lily waited for him to finish.
James straightened and turned to rejoin the party. "I am, of course, referring to myself."
She shook her head and followed. "I knew it."
Amelia Fawcett was not a pretty crier, it had to be said. Frank stood with her in a corner of the
stupidly large office and patted her back awkwardly, ignoring the glares of the various nosy sods
who passed and shook their heads at him.
Amelia sniffed. "What do you mean you like me but you don't like me? That doesn't make any
sense!"
"No, it does," Frank insisted. "Think about it-"
She stomped her foot. "Frank, why are you breaking up with me?"
"I just told you, it's because-"
"Give me a better reason."
He paused and thought for a moment before his expression cleared. "Do you ever feel like life is
just making fun of you, Amelia?"
"No."
"Oh."
"Frank..." She looked at him, her make-up running. "I just don't get it. Is it because there's
someone else?"
Frank hesitated.
"Why are you hesitating?"
"I'm not hesitating."
"There is someone else! Who is she?"
"I did not hesitate," Frank protested.
"Is it Alice?"
Frank hesitated again.
"Oh my God-"
"Look, Amelia." Frank held her gaze. "I'm breaking up with you because this isn't working for me.
Yes, I like you and I care for you, but that's as much as I can ever give and you deserve better. You
deserve more than that, and I want to feel more than that. And I don't see that happening in this
relationship."
After looking at him for a long moment, she went back to sniffing. "You're mind is made up then.
It's over."
He nodded slowly. "It's over."

She looked down, and then towards the exit. "I should go."
"You don't have to."
"I want to. Bye, Frank."
He nodded and rubbed his neck. "Bye, Amelia." She took a few steps towards the door before
Frank called her name and she turned back, eyebrow raised. "I just… I hope we can still be
friends."
She looked at him with her lips parted slightly and her eyebrows rising even higher before she
rolled her eyes and shook her head a little, turning to leave again. "You are exceptionally thick."
The steam billowing around the Hogwarts Express was exceptionally thick. Lily had to wave her
hand in front of her face every few steps just to see where she was going.
"Lily!" Marlene appeared in front of her suddenly and Lily started. "You're coming round to mine
next week, right?"
Lily nodded. "Yeah, I'll be with you from Christmas through to New Year's, Mar. I already owled
my parents. I'll spend this next week and the rest of break with them anyway, so they're fine with
it."
Marlene beamed. "Brilliant." Lily opened her mouth to ask Marlene to help with her luggage, but
her friend quickly disappeared into the smoke, almost as though she had sensed a task about to be
delegated to her.
"Alright, Evans?" Without asking, her bags were taken from her and messy black hair filled her
vision.
"Potter. Give me my bags back."
"Nope. I'm a git." A hand found the crook of her arm and tugged her gently forward, and she found
herself stepping onto the train, her vision clearing quickly as she left the smoke behind. James
grinned at her, her bags in hand, and winked. "They're pretty much empty, anyway. What are they
full of, scarves?"
"Oh, stop showing off," she growled, striding past him and knowing he'd follow. It was a
comfortable assurance, and one she knew that she could always rely on, asked for or not. Lily
stopped in front of a compartment seating Marlene and Alice and gestured for him to hurry up. He
rolled his eyes, still smiling as he stepped in after her. Marlene and Alice greeted him and he
nodded to them jovially.
Lily pointed to the suitcase rack above the seats. "Up," she said.
Without complaint, he obliged. He made it look easy, tucking her bags away on the rack like they
were tins of tuna, and it was in these brief moments in a compartment on the train to London that
Lily was hit by a realization. It wasn't as he lifted her bags onto a rack, it wasn't as his shirt rode up,
it wasn't even the smile he gave her as he turned back to her after he'd placed the bags, the smile
that she knew was just for her. It was when he reached up and ruffled his hair, and
that same feeling would rush through Lily as she watched him do it. Dizzy and breathless. Skittish
and excited. It was when Frank Longbottom's words rang through her head.
When I look at Alice I feel elated and nauseous, like I'm falling and flying at the same time. I'm
happy and giddy and nervous. It's a rush. It's adrenaline.
In a flash, the realization hit her. The breath left her lungs, and she didn't even register James
saying something cheeky before leaving the compartment. It was as the compartment door slid shut
behind him, as the train set off for London, and as the Christmas break for her Sixth Year began
that it dawned on her that she was in trouble.
Because she liked James Potter.

Outnumbered
Not for the first time since Christmas break had started, Lily marveled at how easy it was to eat
without grubby hands grabbing at every plate on the table, and people yelling at the top of their
lungs, and stray charms and hexes being thrown about the room.
She cleaned off her plate and sat back in her chair, watching her parents finish their dinner. Her dad
swallowed a mouthful of food and glanced at her empty plate. "When did you say Marlene is
coming to pick you up?"
"In about ten minutes."
"And you're all packed?"
"Of course." When was Lily ever not prepared well, well, well in advance for something? "I'll be
back after Christmas and New Year's, so I packed reasonably light."
"I saw two big bags sitting by your bed," said Mrs Evans dubiously.
Lily grinned. "I said reasonably."
Her mother shook her head and stood, her plate empty. "Here, give me your plate, Lily. You go
bring your things to the door, you don't want to keep Marlene waiting."
Lily nodded and stood. Mr Evans said something indecipherable through a stuffed mouth and
handed his empty plate to her mum, who rolled her eyes. "You're welcome, dear."
Lily started bounding up the stairs to her room and stopped when her mum called her name. She
looked back. "Yes?"
"Brush your teeth, Lily."
"Mum, do you really think I would ever forget to brush my teeth?"
"Of course not. But do you think that I will ever stop trying to remind you?"
Lily wrinkled her nose. "No."
"No, indeed. Now go brush your teeth."
She laughed and headed to the bathroom. As she brushed, she walked out to her room and started
awkwardly dressing with one hand. Then she hopped back to the bathroom and spat, rinsed, and
wriggled her way once more to her room, pants half on. Lily wondered if her friends' messier
habits had rubbed off on her at any point - she was sure she used to dress and carry herself far more
primly when she was younger.
She picked up her packed bags, filled to the brim with all the necessary essentials and plenty of
unnecessary essentials too. With that being the case, she wondered if she could still call them
essentials. Regardless, her meticulousness when it came to packing had certainly stayed with her
through the years. Lily trundled down the stairs with her bags, glad that at the very least there was
nothing that could happen that she wouldn't be prepared for.
The doorbell rang as she reached the bottom of the stairs and Lily set her bags down and headed
over, a smile ready for her always bubbly friend.
She opened the door and stared instead at James Potter, standing on her doorstep as though it was
what he had been born to do. His hair was messy, his face caked with mud. His grin was lopsided
and there were jagged tears splitting through his clothes. His eyes lit up as they met hers.
"Alright, Evans?"
Lily barely noticed her mum standing by her shoulder, her head tilted in confusion. Her dad stood
by her other shoulder and leaned forward, frowning. "Lily, you might think this a silly question,
but… this isn't Marlene, right?"
Slowly, Lily shook her head, all belief that she was prepared for the day abandoned. "No. No it is
not."
Five hours earlier
A crowded London street that teemed with families, shops, tourists, and stern-browed workers had
three unique young individuals walking quickly along it, going to great efforts not to attract
attention. The first was a pale faced, dark haired boy with a hooked nose and sallow skin. His
clothes were shabby, his eyes a black abyss. He would scan his surroundings constantly, every
move calculated, carrying the air of someone who really, really didn't want to be noticed.
Not far behind him were two other dark haired boys. The first, wearing glasses and sporting messy,
unruly hair, slowed and turned around abruptly. "He's looking."
His friend, with well-groomed locks and a perpetually jaunty smile, stopped beside him and turned
too, pretending to see something interesting in a shop window. "Did he see us?"
"No, I don't think so." Chancing a glance back at their quarry, the first boy craned his neck and his
eyes widened as he saw greasy black hair turn a corner and disappear. "He's moving, let's go!"
They turned back and hurried down the street, weaving through the shoppers and workers bustling
about their business as the pair chased after the boy. They turned the corner and were met with
another street, just as crowded and much longer. It was a sea of people, way too many to single any
old one out, and after a few seconds of standing on tip-toe, desperately searching the tops of heads
among the crowd, both boys gave up and stood there, panting, frustrated.
"Damn," said Sirius Black, smacking his fist into his palm. "We've lost him."
James Potter nodded, looking no less disappointed. "He's a slimy one, that Snape."
"No kidding." The two started down the street, still looking every which way, hoping to catch
another glimpse of Severus Snape. "What do you reckon he was up to?"
James shrugged. "When someone as dodgy as Snape looks that eager to go unnoticed, it can only
mean bad things."
The two had stumbled upon Snape just outside Diagon Alley as they walked down Charing Cross
Road, on their way to the Leaky Cauldron. Knowing Snape did not live in the area, and being well-
acquainted with the body language of a trouble-maker, the pair had needed no prompting to
instantly take to following the unscrupulous Slytherin. The boys and their friends were already on
high alert for Snape, knowing he led a small group of fellow student Death Eaters, and knowing
that the group of them may have dastardly plans for the Christmas break.
"Why would Snape come here?" Sirius wondered aloud. "He doesn't strike me as the type to enjoy
a crowded area."
"Which means," said James, narrowing his eyes, "eventually he would have moved to less crowded
areas, away from prying eyes. I'm thinking back-alleys and narrow side-streets."
Sirius nodded. "I agree. But it's not like we can check every back-alley and side-street in London."
"I think he'll still be in this area. If he was heading somewhere far from here, he would have just
apparated."
"Is he even seventeen?" Sirius asked with a frown. "Wouldn't he get done in for underage magic?"
"Not in the middle of London," snorted James. "The Trace doesn't check who uses the spell, just
our location. These parts are densely populated with wizards, it wouldn't raise any red flags."
"Well, does he even know how to apparate? The Ministry classes at school don't start for another
month."
"So? We apparate at home all the time."
"Yes, but is Snape even half as brilliant as we are, Prongs?"
James wrinkled his nose. "You're going to hate me for saying this-"
"Then don't say it."
"-but Snape is…"
"Don't."
"...quite talented, in his own right."
Sirius threw his hands in the air. "Damn it, Prongs! You need to stop hanging round Evans, you
know that? You just gave Snivellus a compliment for absolutely no reason."
James rolled his eyes at his friend and inclined his head towards an alley on their left. "I'm in a
generous mood." Sirius followed him into the alley. It was shady, and the air was slightly stale.
The chattering, the noise, and the hustle and bustle of the street, was left behind the further they
walked through the alley, carrying weakly towards them. It wasn't narrow, there was room enough
for perhaps five people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and not be cramped, but the looming walls,
the strewn garbage bags and litter along the sides, seemed to cage the two boys in. James stopped.
"It's a dead end."
Sirius glanced at him briefly before peering ahead. "Are you sure? I can barely see anything down
there." He walked ahead and James sighed.
"I'm telling you, it's blocked. I can see a wall there, Padfoot."
After a few more steps, Sirius stopped and turned, rubbing the back of neck and grimacing. Behind
him was the wall. Too tall to jump, no handholds to climb over. If Snape had come this way, he
clearly wasn't athletic enough to get past that.
"Told you," said James. Sirius didn't say anything, looking behind him with a flat stare. James
turned and stiffened a little.
Four teenagers, perhaps a few years older than the pair, were at the other end of the alley.
Muggles, as far as James could tell. Tall, bulky, and mean looking, the four of them barred the exit
with the sort of assurance that only comes with practice. They were muggers, and this was not their
first mugging.
James' hand instantly went to his wand and Sirius held his arm out, staying him. "We can't use
magic," Sirius said quietly.
"We can obliviate them later. It's not a big deal."
"And if someone walks in? If we're caught? Underage magic and assault of some Muggles by two
Pure-bloods does not look good, Prongs."
James hesitated. It was most unlike Sirius to be level-headed at a time like this, but he was right.
Sirius started walking forwards, and with a grunt James caught up to him and walked alongside. He
eyed the four teenagers shrewdly, grimy boys with leering smiles, who all straightened and stood at
their tallest, chests stuck out and knuckles cracking as the pair drew near.
"You really think we can punch our way out?" James murmured to his friend. "There are four of
them and only two of us."
"Then we outnumber them," said Sirius with a grim smile. "Don't you think?"
James sighed. "Maybe you need to hang out with Evans more, Padfoot. It would do you a world of
good."
Sirius didn't respond. The four boys were right in front of them now, and the biggest of the lot, a
blond haired boy with handsome features and an ugly sneer that extended up to wicked eyes,
started speaking. "These two look rich, don't they, boys?" His friends jeered and sniggered behind
him, and he turned to grin at them all. "I think we'll-"
Without breaking stride, Sirius rocked the boy in the face with his fist, smashing his nose and
spurting blood into the air. His friends gave cries of surprise and outrage and they leaped forwards,
past the injured boy. James clipped the first one on the chin, driving him back a few steps. The
second rushed at him and he ducked under a clumsy punch and drove an elbow into his assailant's
ribs. The boy grunted, and James dropped a shoulder and charged him into the wall, slamming him
hard. When he stepped back, the boy slumped to the ground, whimpering in pain.
A few steps away, Sirius was weaving between the blonde boy and a brown haired, shorter boy
with ratty features. James looked away quickly as the one he'd clipped on the chin reared back at
him, snarling. James made to step forwards when the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a
knife, about the size of a razor blade. James' eyes widened and he jerked back, raising his hands,
open, so he could bat away or catch any swipes from the sharp blade. The armed boy sensed his
hesitation and moved forwards slowly, his confidence growing on his face, and he brandished the
knife far in front of him to drive James further back. The weight of James' wand in his pocket
started calling to him, but he cast it from his mind. It was not an option.
James moved forward suddenly, catching the boy by surprise, and he made a lunge for the knife.
At the last moment the boy jerked his hand out of reach and then brought it back round for a wild
swipe at James. James side-stepped around the swipe, reaching the boy's other side. He made to
grab for the boy while his back was turned, but from the ground the attacker that James had
rammed into the wall grabbed his leg, forcing him to stumble. The boy with the knife turned
around and slashed at James. By luck alone, the knife cut through only fabric. James kicked the
hands off his leg, cursing his assailant on the ground, and the boy with the knife took another slash
at James. This one sliced through his sleeve, and again James counted himself lucky.
The boy on the ground seemed to have mustered his energy for one more small charge, ramming
into James' legs with his shoulders and bringing James to the ground amid a string of curses. James
wrestled with the boy on the ground, tasting dirt and grime, feeling it all rub into his skin. His other
opponent kicked him in the head. It was a bad kick, barely clipping him, but it was enough to make
his world rock. Stars appeared in his vision, there was a knife somewhere in front of him too.
Wildly, James lifted his knees from his position on the ground and felt his right knee crack hard
into something. His vision cleared in time for him to see the boy on the ground's eyes roll into the
back of his head, and the boy collapsed, unmoving. The one with the knife kicked at James while
he was distracted, and James rolled, dodging most of the kick's force but still getting caught in the
ribs. He grunted, curling into a ball.
"We only wanted your money," said the boy, his voice rasping. "No one had to get hurt. But
now… now you have to die."
James grimaced and rolled his eyes on the ground. When the boy was close enough he sprang up
off the ground, in much the same way he would do a burpee exercise at Quidditch practice, and
with his opponent's eyes still widening in surprise, knife hand yet to move, James rushed him,
getting in his space before the boy could react. With a punch to the jaw, the boy fell.
James bent over him, watching him shift slightly and groan, and finally he pulled his wand out.
James leaned close so not even the boy could see it. "Stupefy," he whispered. The boy jerked on
the ground, before his body slumped and stopped moving. James simply hadn't wanted to take the
risk.
He stood tall, wincing slightly before slouching again. He clutched his ribs and looked around. The
blonde boy was unconscious, leaning against the wall. Sirius stood over his other opponent with
his wand pressed to the boy's temple, before pocketing it. This boy slumped, unconscious now too.
James raised an eyebrow. "You cheated."
"Oh, please," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "Don't think I didn't just see you stunning that one with
the knife, Prongs. You're not as slick as you think."
They emerged from the alley, grimy, battered, but victorious. Three men in blue uniforms and
clunky hats stared at them. They looked behind James and Sirius, at the four unconscious bodies.
"Stop right there," said the one closest to the pair, a man with thick eyebrows and a bushy
mustache. He pulled a baton from a pouch on his waist. The other two followed his lead, stepping
up alongside him with their own batons in hand.
"You reckon these are policemen?" Sirius whispered to James.
"Must be," James said under his breath.
"Stop whispering," the lead policeman yelled, stepping forward.
"Ready for round two?" asked Sirius, grinning with bared teeth.
James frowned. "No."
"Good. Neither."
James looked at him. The privilege of being as close to another person as James was to Sirius was
that James knew exactly what his friend was thinking. They turned back to the policemen, who
were approaching cautiously, pulling handcuffs from their belts.
"Look," James cried, pointing behind the blue clad figures, "what's that?"
The three of them actually turned, but James and Sirius didn't stick around long enough to see.
They bolted down the street, taking no care now to go unnoticed, rushing past the shoppers and
workers, bumping into some of them and not pausing to give apologies.
"Stop! You're under arrest!"
They turned a corner, ran down yet another crowded street. They weaved and side-stepped,
bumped and ran on, street to street. "Down here," James said to Sirius, indicating an upcoming
alley. They rushed into the alley, sprinted down the dark, narrow path.
"Better not be a dead end," Sirius muttered as they ran. James merely grunted, and they kept on
running. The alley was long and winding, and there was very little light. Down the end, light shone
where the alley met a street. "We've surely lost them by now," Sirius said, panting.
James nodded, and the two slowed as they reached the end of the alley. They emerged into an
empty street. It was a neighbourhood. The houses were squat, the ground was stone and cobbled.
Neither boy had a clue where they were.
"You think we can apparate out of here?" Sirius asked, looking around doubtfully. "This doesn't
seem like a very magical part of London. We'll get busted, The Trace will surely pick us up."
James nodded. "You're right. I don't suppose you have any Floo powder on you, by any chance?"
Sirius shook his head grimly. "None."
"It looks like we'll have to make our way back on foot, then." Both boys let out sighs, and
grudgingly faced the alley again. As they made to walk back, they heard a noise from the cobbled
stone street behind them. They turned and peeked out.
"No way," whispered Sirius.
Severus Snape walked down the street, no longer looking cagey or overly-cautious. He passed their
little alley without noticing the two boys, and continued on his way. James couldn't believe their
luck. He didn't even need to look at Sirius. Wordlessly, they started following their quarry once
more. They kept to a great distance behind him - they couldn't let Snape turn and see them.
Down the street the three walked, the first none the wiser to his two tails. Snape reached the end of
the street, and James and Sirius stiffened, ducked behind the fence of a decrepit house. Mulciber,
Rosier, and Travers, alongside two Seventh Years, Julius Avery and Antonin Dolohov Junior,
stood by a wall near the end of the street. The wall was graffitied and chipped, standing by itself as
though once part of a much bigger wall, but was now the last two meters' length of brick left
standing. As the two Gryffindors watched, a figure emerged from the wall, stepping out of it like it
was an average door. The man was tall, wearing black robes and carrying a Death Eater mask in
his hand.
"Now," Sirius whispered to James, "we might be outnumbered."
James snorted. "Clearly. We need to get closer."
Sirius hesitated, then nodded. They crept along the length of the fence, keeping themselves out of
sight. Voices from the group ahead started carrying over to the two, and when the words were
legible, the voices distinct, the boys stopped where they were.
"-long do we have to wait for?" That voice belonged to Travers, James reckoned.
A deep voice he didn't recognize, with a strong Russian accent that must have belonged to the
newcomer, responded. "A few more hours. The train does not stop on this continent very often."
James and Sirius looked at each other with frowns. The train?
Dolohov spoke up. "Why couldn't we catch a train from King's Cross?"
"This is a magical train," the man said, his voice sounding testy. He didn't seem like the type who
worked with children or teenagers very often, if at all. "It does not stop at King's Cross. Strictly
speaking, it is not even legal. We will wait here, and the train will come for us before the night is
out."
"But how soon?" Dolohov pressed.
The man regarded him shrewdly. "You are so keen for this mission to begin?"
Dolohov stood straighter. "I am eager to prove myself, sir."
The man stared at him for a few more seconds, before he nodded and surveyed the rest of them.
"Good. You will certainly get the opportunity to do so - you all will. By the end, the Dark Lord
will be very impressed with you all, I am sure. The train will be here in a matter of hours." He
turned and walked back through the brick wall, disappearing. The Slytherins started talking
amongst themselves excitedly.
Sirius turned to James, eyebrows raised. "I'm sure you aren't opposed to bringing in
reinforcements." His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed his worry.
James nodded firmly, his own eyes set on the Slytherins. "Yes, Padfoot. Now is a good time to call
in the cavalry."
Lily got over her surprise and crossed her arms, glaring at him. "What are you doing here, Potter?"
James looked at her like it was obvious. "I'm here to pick you up, of course."
"Pick her up?" Mr Evans repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you? My daughter is not going
anywhere with you."
"Not without some tea first, at any rate," said Mrs Evans lightly, clasping her hands and beaming at
James. "What is your name, dear?"
He cast his most charming smile onto Lily's mother, and if Lily were not so nonplussed at his
arrival she might have found herself blushing. "James Potter. It is my absolute pleasure to meet
you, Mrs Evans. You truly do share your daughter's radiance."
Lily rolled her eyes and her mother chuckled. Mr Evans' frown only deepened, looking between his
wife and James with his lips pursed. He wagged a finger at James. "You leave my wife and
daughter alone, boy, you hear me?"
Mrs Evans swatted her husband's arm. "Oh, shut it, dear. James is nothing short of a gentleman. Do
come in, James. I can make you some hot cocoa, if you'd like?"
"I would love to take you up on that offer, Mrs Evans, but perhaps another time-"
"-or never," Mr Evans interrupted, glaring at James.
"Unfortunately," James continued, not letting Lily's father shake him at all, "we are on a rather
tight schedule, and really must be heading off now."
"Rather tight schedule for what?" asked Lily suspiciously. "Where's Marlene?"
"She's with Sirius," he said, turning his grin on her with a heart-stopping twinkle in his eye.
"And where are they?"
"They're grabbing Frank and Alice. I volunteered to come get you."
She refused to let herself grin at him. "Potter, what is going on? Why are you here?"
"Yes," said Mr Evans loudly. "Young man, why are you here?"
Mrs Evans put her hands to her cheeks and beamed at James and Lily. "They're going on a date!"
Lily's own cheeks reddened. "That is the last thing that this is, I assure you."
"It seems somewhat like a date to me," said Mr Evans, his frown deepening.
"It can be," James offered. "I'm not opposed to that."
"I am," Lily and her father said at the same time.
"It's decided then," Mrs Evans decided, beaming. "It's a date."
"It is not decided," Lily decided back, glaring at the lot of them. "It really, really isn't. Now James
and I, it seems, have somewhere to be." She marched inside and grabbed her bags before marching
on out again to stand beside him. "So, if you will excuse us." She looked at James expectantly and
he nodded after a moment, placing a light hand on her shoulder and letting her lead the way down
the driveway. She waved at her parents as they walked.
"I don't like this," Mr Evans called from the door.
Mrs Evans pushed past him. "He'll grow to like it, Lily, don't you worry! Go on and have fun with
your boyfriend!"
Mr Evans stole Lily's words as Lily and James reached the sidewalk. "He is not her boyfriend!"
Lily shook her head at both her parents, waved one more time, and when her house had disappeared
behind shrubs and neighbours and fences, she glanced at James. He was looking ahead, his glasses
slightly askew, dirt rubbed into his face. Still she felt herself grow nervous, walking alone with
him. He looked filthy, yet still she felt a blush creep on as he glanced sideways at her, meeting her
gaze, and grinned that stupid, warming, stomach-churning grin.
Oh, she had it bad.
"What?" he asked.
She quickly smothered her feelings, drowning the blush. "What do you mean, what? Tell me where
we're going and why you're here, or so help me, Potter, I will-"
He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. He raised his fist. It occurred to her then that his fist
had been clenched this entire time, like he was holding an invisible stick of chalk. With his other
hand he pulled at something in the air, and to Lily's shock a cloak came with it. Silky, silvery, and
beautifully woven, it flowed from his hand like a waterfall. In his clenched fist was a broomstick.
Lily's appreciation for broomsticks was limited, but even she could tell it was both expensive and
probably very, very fast.
It took some seconds for Lily to find her words. "Ignoring the fact that you are holding an
invisibility cloak, and that as a Prefect, I now have very definitive proof for a lot of unpunished
deeds, Potter," she paused, and he waited patiently, "it occurs to me that you're about to ask me to
get on that broomstick. I'll save you the trouble. No."
He spoke simply. "We can't apparate."
"Why ever not?"
"In this neighbourhood, Evans? We'll get done in for under-age magic. And this way, we get to
have a romantic broomstick ride across the country. Doesn't that sound grand?"
"You cannot be serious."
"No, I'm not," he admitted. "We're flying to a magical suburb not far from here. We'll apparate to
my place from there."
"That raises another question, Potter. Why are we going to your place?"
"One thing at a time, Evans." She wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly she found herself
perched on the back of the broomstick. James climbed on in front of her. "Arms round my waist,
Evans, if you please. Tight. I'd rather not have to scrape you off the pavement."
Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around him. She could rest her chin on his shoulder. She didn't
though. He smelled good. The skin on his neck made her want to touch it and she didn't know why.
All of this should have led to something romantic.
He took off suddenly and she screamed, and they flew very fast.
It wasn't romantic.
Marlene's parents were Pure-bloods. Their house was unnecessarily large, their wealth immense,
their sensibilities grand and haughty.
And even she thought Potter Manor was outrageously glamorous. She had been here in the past,
for functions and high tea, but never of her own volition. She stood with Lily in the 'small' library,
as James had called it, which was three times the size of the Gryffindor Common Room. House-
elves wandered from shelf to shelf, adding and replacing books. Even their pillowcase garments
looked exquisite.
Lily seemed confunded by it all. "There I was thinking he's really not that daunting," she mumbled.
Marlene looked at her oddly. "Since when did you think James is daunting?"
"Nothing. I didn't. I don't."
A slow nod. "Okay."
"Big."
"What?"
Lily gestured vaguely. "The house is just big."
"Right. Well it is a Manor."
"It's a Manor?" She looked like she might faint.
"Yes it's a- Have you looked at it, Lily?"
Lily looked defensive. "James apparated us straight in here! I haven't even seen the rest of the
place, how should I know what it looks like from the outside?"
Understanding dawned on Marlene. "You're still not used to side-along apparition. That's why
you're so weird."
"I'm weird? Erm, yes, that's why I'm weird." Lily paused and sighed. "This whole time I thought
your place was ridiculously big."
"It is. Just not quite as extravagant as all this."
James approached, followed by Sirius, Frank, Alice, and Peter. "Extravagance comes in all shapes
and sizes, McKinnon. Us Potters only know how to do things in excess, though." They gathered
around a small table.
Remus walked over from another part of the library, his nose in a book, before he stopped at the
table and looked at them all. "I've got it. It's called the Dàochù train. When the Chinese Ministry
banned portkeys forty years ago, a powerful witch called Táoyì created a train that can go to any
place, at any time. It was meant to revolutionize travel, but because it would allow immigration to
be unregulated, as well as take money away from Ministries around the world seeing as no-one
would keep paying for portkeys and apparition papers to cross borders, most Ministries ending up
banning it. As a result, it's mainly used for smuggling purposes, and draws in a somewhat dodgy
crowd."
"Do we know where it stops?" James asked.
Remus nodded. "Obviously, there is the wall that you and Sirius saw Snape's lot hanging around.
Walking through the wall gets you onto a platform similar to Nine and Three-Quarters, and from
there you can board the train. But to get on the platform, to walk through the wall, you must have a
boarding pass on your person, or else you will be obliterated."
Marlene frowned. "Obliterated?"
Remus waved the book in the air. "That's what it says. Irrespective of what exactly that means, it
doesn't sound pleasant."
"Do we know where the train stops before that specific wall?" Frank asked.
"Yes. It stops at a very similar wall in a small town in Oxfordshire. I've already acquired the Floo
address of a house nearby, so all we need are some boarding passes. What do you guys reckon?"
The eight of them stood around, staring at each other for a moment. Were they really going to put
themselves out there, jump headfirst into yet another very dangerous, very avoidable situation?
One by one, each set of eyes steeled, resolves being forged. The answer, clearly, was yes.
Marlene spoke first. "Where do we get the boarding passes?"
Antonin Dolohov Junior did not consider himself arrogant, but he also felt somewhat embittered by
the way certain gears seemed to be turning. He was a Seventh Year taking orders from Severus
Snape, a Sixth Year. Where was the sense in that? There was no rhyme or reason to the decision, as
far as Antonin could tell. No, he did not consider himself arrogant at all, but he still had a growing
locust inside of him telling him that he was every bit as talented, clever, and commanding as
Snape, if not more so.
The group of Slytherins, as well as the big Russian man, Adrian Chernov, sat close together near
the back of a carriage at the very end of the long train. The group didn't talk much. Adrian didn't
seem particularly interested in conversing with any of them, giving Antonin the impression that he
felt he'd been stuck with a babysitting job. The disheartening feeling of talents being wasted, that's
how Antonin felt having to answer to Severus Snape.
He sighed and got to his feet. None of them looked up. He didn't expect them to.
Antonin walked along the carriage. A few other people were scattered along the rows of seats,
keeping to themselves. They were all roguish looking folk, shifty, with a dangerous look in their
eyes. One man, sitting by himself, had an eyepatch. Antonin couldn't lie, that was quite cool.
He walked to the next carriage. There were only eight other people in this one. He looked out the
window. It was an odd sight. The Dàochù train didn't travel along tracks, nor through temporal
space. Therefore, when he looked out it wasn't nature that he saw, or the countryside. Instead he
saw… space. He didn't think it could be described. There were colors and shapes and moving
things, but they never formed a cohesive image until the train stopped, at which point he could
look at frothy seas on the coast of New Zealand, the tempestuous sands of Egypt, a heavily
graffitied wall in France. It was nice, he supposed.
Someone was looking at him. Antonin snapped his gaze over to a portly boy sitting close to where
he was. He met the boy's watery eyes, which widened, and the boy quickly hid his face behind a
magazine. The boy had looked familiar for a moment, but not enough to make Antonin approach
him. He walked on. The other seven people in the carriage didn't look over. They were all busy. At
the front of the compartment, a boy with dark, messy hair had his head resting against the window.
He was sleeping. A red-haired girl sitting behind him was reading a book, her head down, looking
far too interested in it. Now that Antonin thought about it, all eight of them were hiding their faces
in some way or another. A hand, a book, something was tucking each of their faces away. A blond
haired boy was immersed completely in fiddling with his shirt. No shirt was that interesting.
Antonin walked closer. There was sweat on the side of the boy's face. The boy met Antonin's eyes.
It was Frank Longbottom.
"Stupefy!"
Antonin went flying back, knocked his head against a seat, hit the ground. His vision blurred and
his body ignored his mind's urge to move. He was dimly aware of the seven others gathering
around him and talking. His hands were bound. He could feel wire digging into the skin. Some
time later, he registered being propped upright and his vision cleared. The eight of them surrounded
him. Antonin opened his mouth to call for help.
"Call for help," said a boy with wavy black locks… Sirius Black, Antonin noted with an internal
groan, "and I'll break your face."
Slowly, Antonin nodded.
"Good," said Frank Longbottom, next to Black. "Thank you for your cooperation, Dolohov. Now,
we have a lot of ques-"
Antonin opened his mouth wide again to call for help.
When he woke up hours later in a train station in Amritsar, India, the last thing Antonin could
remember was the proximity of Sirius Black's knuckles.
The Gryffindors spent some time arguing over what to do with Dolohov's unconscious body. All
but one of them were fine with leaving him on the train. Lily had said that might be dangerous for
him. The rest of them saw that only as a good thing. As far as Remus was concerned, forgiveness
could be damned when it came to serial killers and their hulking, brainless minions. So when they
saw the Slytherins and the big Russian man getting off the train at an otherwise empty platform,
the Gryffindors left Dolohov on the train, waited for their quarries to pass through a brick wall at
the end of the small platform, and disembarked together.
Frank peaked his head through the brick wall, made sure there was cover on the other side for the
group to hide behind, and they followed him through. Remus shielded his eyes as he emerged from
the dimly lit platform and stepped into a wet, grassy meadow at the top of a hill. The sun glared
down at them, scaring away dark clouds that roiled off to sulk elsewhere in the sky. Land stretched
out from the hill in all directions. There were towns in the distance, spread out and separated by
farmland and dirt tracks. At the very bottom of the hill was one such town, large and dusty. Remus
spied the Slytherins approaching the town below them.
"Where are we?" asked Sirius.
Frank was still surveying the land around them, scrutinizing the horizon. "It's hard to say. I'm
guessing we're still in Europe, but I could be wrong." He joined Remus in looking down at the
town, and the rest followed suit. "We have no idea what we're getting ourselves into."
Alice shook her head. "Nope."
"And we're all fine with going in blind? We just walk down the hill and straight into the town?"
They all looked at each other, expressions flat. Then they walked down the hill and straight
towards the town. Keeping low as they walked, just in case someone at the bottom looked over,
they scaled their way down in silence and approached the town. There was a sign stuck into the
ground, words written on it in a language Remus didn't understand.
"Eastern European, I think," Frank said quietly.
"How do you know?" asked James.
"I don't know, I said I think."
"So it might not be, then."

"No, I'm sure it is."
"If you're sure, then how do you know?"
Frank growled. "I just have a feeling, Potter."
They crept into the town. "So you're not sure," James said.
"Does it matter?"
No one was on the streets, and the Slytherins had disappeared. The group flattened themselves
against a wall, doing their best to be quiet. "It does matter," James whispered. "Our location tells us
how much danger we're in. There's a lot of Death Eater activity in Eastern Europe. Very little in,
say, Asia, or Africa."
"Well you can rule those out," said Frank. "That sign wasn't in an Asian or African language."
"But how do you know that?"
"I can just tell, okay?"
"If you both don't shut up," Marlene breathed, "I will give you the beating of a fucking lifetime-"
"I'll give you a detention," Frank whispered.
James nodded. "And Lily will also give you a detention, on my behalf."
"I will do no such thing," said Lily.
Remus shuffled to the edge of the wall, peeked out. "Hey, it's clear. Let's go." He crept out from
behind cover. The others followed behind him, still bickering. He crouched as he walked. Peter
appeared by his side, his brow furrowed in determination and concentration. Remus nodded to him
and Peter nodded back. They walked on, came to the end of a street.
Remus raised a hand sharply. Everyone stopped behind him and looked at him curiously. "Do you
hear that?" he whispered. They paused, listening.
"Voices," Alice said quietly.
"Lots of them," Remus added. "From up ahead." Remus leaned against the side of a crumbling
house and edged forward, looking past the house, round the corner of the street. "Nothing. Let's
keep moving." They followed him round the corner and down the street. Remus could still hear a
couple of them whispering behind him, but he ignored them. The voices ahead were much louder
now. It wasn't raucous. It sounded instead like an amiable tea party, the tones calm and level. He
leaned against the side of another house as he approached the end of the street. The voices came
from right up ahead. He crept forward, and then, in a quick jerk, he risked a peek round the corner
and flung himself back. Death Eaters, a small army of them, gathered in a courtyard. Masked faces
turned to each other as they chatted away. No clear leader, no one at the forefront. Their number
was somewhere in the fifties, maybe more.
Remus' expression seemed to say it all. The others looked at him, each taking it in turns to stand
where Remus had stood and risk a quick peek ahead. Each looked back with wide eyes. Eventually,
wordlessly, once they were all satisfied and shocked in woefully unequal measure, they walked
back the way they'd come.
Frank spoke first, looking at James and Sirius. "I'm assuming that the two of you also contacted
Dumbledore, right? Any word on when he'll show up?" Neither of the two responded. "You must
not have heard me."
"We heard you."
"Then give me a damn answer."
James looked at him flatly. "We didn't contact anyone else. Sirius went straight to Marlene, the two
of them went to get Alice, and then they picked you up. Pete and Remus made their way to my
place by themselves. I went to pick up Lily. The eight of us… that's all we have."
Frank shook his head. "That's not good enough. We'll all die, James. That was an army back there.
I'm all for the adventure, or the fun of it, or whatever you think the appeal is to fighting a whole
army, but I also don't want to die. I'm calling this off. We're reporting to Dumbledore and letting
the adults handle this."
James opened his mouth again and Lily placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's right, Potter. We're all
eager to get our hands dirty and do our part, but today's just not the day. We'll have other chances."
James looked torn, glanced at Sirius. The two shared a look that Remus had seen many times.
Whatever James would do, Sirius would do with him. The purest form of unconditional support.
Seeing that look, despite knowing how dumb this was, how dangerous, how irresponsible, Remus
felt the words leap from his mouth. "I'm with you, James," he said quietly. "Say the word, and I'm
all in. We'll do this." James gazed at him and for the first time, Remus shared that same look with
James, and his heart grew full. This was what it felt like.
Beside him, legs quivering but his face set, Peter spoke up as well. "I'm- I'm in too, James. You can
count on me."
James looked at his three friends, his eyes full of a profound emotion that Remus couldn't capture
with words, and then looked at the others, at Frank and Marlene's disapproving frowns, at Alice,
her hands clasped and her face pleading … and at Lily's expressionless gaze. There was something
in Lily's eyes, too, that Remus couldn't quite place. She and James shared a look for a few seconds,
before James turned back, his eyes closed, and he sighed. "No. They're right, this is dangerous. I'm
not putting your lives in danger."
Frank let out a breath and shook his head in relief, clapping James on the shoulder. "Good man.
That's the right choice." They started down the street again, breathing easier. "Now let's get out of
here."
They turned the corner and walked into two masked figures in black robes - the garbs of Death
Eaters. Their cold masks leered and the teens stumbled back, walked right into two more Death
Eaters behind them, having sneaked up without any of them noticing.
One of the figures in front chuckled lightly. "Where are you going, kids?" He nodded behind them.
"The party's that way."
James spoke, his voice controlled, devoid of the fear that Remus felt clutching at his chest. "Sorry,
it's a Tuesday. I hate partying on a Tuesday."
"It's Friday," said a Death Eater behind them.
"It is? That's even worse. I make it a point to never party on a Friday."
"You're going to die," said the first Death Eater quietly. "All of you. You don't look nearly scared
enough."
"Because we have you outnumbered," said Frank, his shoulders square, his eyes level with each of
the Death Eaters'. "Eight to four."
The first Death Eater wagged a finger. "You are all children. We are trained killers, boy. Do not
think these odds to be even."
"We accept your surrender," said James. The Death Eaters snorted, and James continued. "Face the
wall, close your eyes, and count to ten. Those are our terms."
The first Death Eater shook his head and stepped forward, eyes on James. "I'll kill this one first, I
think."
James snarled, fingers curling around the wand in his back pocket. "Come get it."
They both pulled their wands out in a flash just as two figures dropped down from the roof above,
each one flattening two Death Eaters between them. A stunning spell, a binding spell, a jinx and a
hex, and the four Death Eaters stayed on the ground, unmoving. Caradoc Dearborn and Professor
Windstrum looked up at the eight stunned teenagers, amusement dancing in both their eyes.
"What a small world," said Windstrum. "I can't go anywhere without running into my students."
Caradoc crossed his arms. "What business could you lot possibly have in the Czech Republic?"
"Where exactly is the Czech Republic?" Peter whispered.
"Eastern Europe," said Frank smugly, looking at James. James shook his head at the Head Boy.
"The same as you two, I imagine," said Remus, smiling at the two men wryly. "Nice to see you
again, by the way, Caradoc."
"Remus!" Caradoc beamed at him and clapped him on the shoulder. Footsteps approached from
around the corner and the two men straightened and looked at the teens quickly. "Link up," said
Caradoc. "Let's go."
The ten of them quickly held hands. The moment they were all connected, they apparated. Remus
felt space crush him and pull at him and chew him and spit him back out, and his feet hit the
ground again. People rushed around him. He turned on the spot, taking in his new surroundings. It
was a house. Thin corridors, peeling wallpaper, dusty chandeliers. The people walking about were
hurried, their expressions serious and occupied. "Where are we?" he asked. Caradoc and
Windstrum started walking, and the teens followed along, being led down the corridors.
"I'm assuming," said Windstrum, "that Frank has relayed to the rest of you the situation at the
Ministry right now?" They all nodded and he continued, greeting a few people that passed as he
walked. "In short, the Ministry is frozen. Morgan Bulstrode is in charge, and he's probably a Death
Eater. Emmett Fawley, also probably a Death Eater, is Head of the Auror Department. So we can't
go to official bodies of power for help. That's why we've amassed here a collection of people we
trust and who want to help us. Unofficially, of course." The two men stopped in front of an open
door and beckoned the teens in. It was a small room, no decorations or furniture apart from a
cluttered desk. At the desk sat a heavily scarred, grizzly haired man with glinting dark eyes.
Alastor Moody surveyed the eight teens before him, and his lip curled. Whether or not that was a
good thing, Remus couldn't tell. When the man spoke in the growling voice of a warrior, everyone
listened. "You lot are exceptionally thick for involving yourselves in all this. I hope you know
that." The teens hesitated and looked at each other, not knowing what to say. James looked like he
might say something along the lines of Yes, we do know that, but Moody shook his head and raised
a hand before the messy haired boy could start. "In any case, welcome. We still need a name for
what this all is, but essentially you are looking at our very own Ministry of Magic." Some rats
scurried into a hole in the wall, and a piece of timber fell from the ceiling and hit the ground.
Trap
The eight Gryffindors stared, not quite sure what to say, and Moody seemed content to stare back at
them. The room was damp, James noticed. It smelled like a storage cupboard.
"You lot don't seem very impressed," said Caradoc from behind them.
"We just saw an army of Death Eaters," Marlene said slowly. "An army, sir."
"Please, call me Caradoc."
"An army."
"Yes, I think I've got it."
"You're forgetting, Marlene" said Professor Windstrum, "that we have an army of our own. What
we've got here, all the talented people we've gathered, this very headquarters, it's all just as
impressive as an army." A stray rat was nibbling on the side of his shoe, but he ignored it.
"Headquarters," Lily repeated. "Professor, where are we? The town we just came from, you said it
was in the Czech Republic? Are we still in the Czech Republic?"
Windstrum inclined his head. "Yes. There is a lot going on here that the eight of you are not yet
privy to, a lot to catch you all up on." He nodded to Moody. "Alastor will explain it."
Moody growled and stood, moving his desk an inch forward as he did so. "Like hell I will. You're
their teacher, aren't you? Teach. I want lunch." He left the room, clapping the young teacher's back
on his way out. Windstrum sighed and took Moody's seat, folding his arms on the desk as he
grimaced at his students.
"I should go, too," Caradoc tried.
"You're staying."
"But I don't even know these kids."
Windstrum fixed him with a look. "You've met Frank and Remus. I dare say you can recognize a
Potter and a Black from miles away. This is Marlene McKinnon."
"Your mum's sister-in-law's husband is my mum's brother," said Marlene, smiling at Caradoc.
"We've met."
"We have?"
"It was brief."
Caradoc shook his head in wonder. "Purebloods."
Marlene snorted lightly and rolled her eyes in agreement. "Purebloods."
"Next," said Windstrum, "we have Alice Prewett, the blonde haired girl standing next to Marlene."
Caradoc nodded and smiled at Alice. "All the Prewetts I've met have been delightful people. It's a
pleasure."
She smiled back. "Likewise."
"Moving along," said Windstrum, sounding impatient, "there's Peter Pettigrew, hiding behind Mr
Black."
"Hi," said Peter, leaning out awkwardly.
"How are you, Peter?"
"Good."
Windstrum waited a moment to see if the conversation would go any further, then shook his head
and continued. "And finally, Lily Evans. Brightest witch in her year."
"In the school," James corrected. Lily smiled at him, a genuine, pleased smile that she'd been
sending him a lot more of recently. It lit him up inside and he felt a rush, felt his own grin balloon
uncontrollably.
"Lily," said Caradoc. "Dumbledore speaks of you most highly."
Lily opened her mouth and Windstrum cut in. "Yes, yes, they're all great. Now, to business. The
Death Eaters have gathered in a town called Prázdný."
"Called what?" asked Sirius.
"Prázdný." Windstrum looked at Caradoc. "Prázdný?"
"Don't look at me, I don't know."
"We've yet to hear someone say it properly," Windstrum admitted. "So bear with us."
"Praz-de-nee," Remus offered.
"Maybe. It doesn't matter. We just know it was a Muggle town. Quiet. Peaceful." Windstrum ran a
hand through his hair. "The Death Eaters arrived last night and slaughtered every last Muggle in
the town. Men, women, children. It took them ten minutes."
James stiffened. Alice clapped a hand over her mouth. The others muttered to themselves darkly.
"Why?" asked Frank, his voice stiff.
Windstrum took out a rolled up piece of paper and unfurled it on the desk. The teens crowded in to
look. It was a map. He pointed to a corner at the top of the Czech Republic. "This area is near the
border to both Germany and Poland. Voldemort has been unable to claim significant
territory anywhere yet, not in England, Ireland, not even in Scotland."
"What's wrong with Scotland?" Lily whispered.
"Clearly," Windstrum continued, "Voldemort's decided the best place to start is here."
"Won't the Czech Ministry do anything?" Alice asked.
"The Czech Republic doesn't have a Ministry," Caradoc pointed out, scratching his head as he
joined the conversation. "It doesn't have a magical community. Not even a magical street. It's as
good a place for Voldemort to start as any. And if it gives him a foothold near Germany of all
places, that's all the better for him."
"Now, Prázdný is one of five towns in the area," said Windstrum. There were five circles drawn on
the map, between the small bit of Czech area that bordered both Germany and Poland. Four of the
circles formed a square, or close to. The fifth was in the middle. "Prázdný is here," he said, tapping
the circle at the bottom of the square. "But what they really want is here." He tapped the middle
circle. "Síla. If you control Síla, you control the other four, and therefore the whole area. We
believe Síla is their next target."
James folded his arms. "How do you guys know all this?"
"It's sort of my job," said Caradoc. "I'm a spy for Dumbledore. I spend a lot of time with the Death
Eaters."
"Fun."
"So much fun," Caradoc agreed.
"So what's the plan, then?" asked Frank. "Their target is Síla. So we defend it, right?"
Windstrum wrinkled his nose. "It's not that simple."
"They're Muggles," said Caradoc. "The whole town. We can't just turn it into a battlefield."
"So we raid Prázdný and arrest all the Death Eaters before they can even approach Síla," said
James. "Right?"
"No," said Windstrum. "We want to avoid a full fledged battle if we can."
"Why?"
"If it comes to a battle, they use killing curses. We don't. Strategically, that very much puts us on
the backfoot. Now, you haven't gotten a good look at all of us yet, but there are only perhaps
twenty people here. You have no idea how difficult it is to find twenty trustworthy, capable people
willing to work outside the Ministry."
"We're not being paid for this," Caradoc pointed out. Windstrum looked at him and Caradoc stared
at a spot on the ceiling.
"Indeed," said Windstrum, looking back at the teens. "If we can avoid losing good people, we'd
certainly like to."
"Then… what's the plan?" asked Lily.
Windstrum smiled. "We lay a trap."
"Knock knock." They turned to the door. A man with short blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard
stood there. He had an exquisitely embroidered cloak, and carried that shoulders back, chin up air
of authority. He smiled. "Hello, all."
"Ah, Sawyer," said Windstrum, brightening. "My dear students, meet Sawyer Hughes, Minister of
Magic!"
"I am not the Minister of Magic."
"As good as."
"No."
Windstrum turned to the teens. "The voting process is ongoing, but he's pretty much won already."
"Pretty much winning is a far cry from actually winning, Anton. The vote could go on for months
on end - in fact it probably will, at this rate."
"Sawyer is the Head of Magical Law Enforcement," Caradoc told the teens, stepping forward to
shake the man's hand roughly and grinning. "As far as we're concerned, here at
the unofficial Ministry of Magic-
"That name is not final," said Sawyer.
"-he's the closest to a Minister we have. This is our leader."
"Not Dumbledore?" asked Lily.
Caradoc hesitated. "This is our leader after Dumbledore."
"Where is Dumbledore, anyway?" Alice piped up. "Will he be helping us?"
Sawyer grimaced and rubbed his chin. "It's complicated. Like you just demonstrated, regardless of
who the Minister is, Dumbledore will always be seen as the one in charge. That is dangerous. It
could put the ministerial power structure in an imbalance, taking authority away from the Minister,
whoever it is, while essentially turning the school Headmaster into a dictator. Not to mention this
whole election process nonsense - I need as many votes as I can get, while making sure not to feed
any dissenters. We're trying to broadcast to everyone that Bulstrode and Fawley are the bad guys,
while we're good. Dumbledore and I agreed that he should sit this one out."
The young Gryffindors weren't sure what to make of this. "You don't think we'll need him?" asked
Sirius.
"I do not," said Sawyer. "The plan is good."
"Yes, the plan," said Windstrum, remembering their conversation before Sawyer had arrived.
"We've laid a trap for the Death Eaters. That brings me to where exactly this house lies, actually.
Let's step outside, shall we?"
They followed him from the room, out into the hallway, and walked round corners and bends until
they reached the front door. Windstrum held it open for them, and the group filtered out of the
house. The fading sunlight of the evening was having its last hurrah in the sky, and the darkness
waited patiently behind it, still tapping it on the shoulder to ask for a turn. It was chilly out. The
ground was covered in snow, much like it had been in London, but the snow here was white. Pure
white, devoid of the stomping of work boots and coating of grime, the muck and the filth that
mankind brought with it to all places, like an uninvited houseguest. The snow was too white.
James walked further from the house and looked around. None of the snow on the ground was
touched, white as could be, spreading out along the ground from house to house, street to street, all
over this town that James found himself in. The houses were almost identical to the one he'd just
stepped out of, the streets devoid of any other signs of life. He frowned. "Professor, what's going
on here?"
Caradoc answered instead, beaming. "Isn't it great? This town you see in front of you? Just ten
hours ago, it didn't even exist. It was all just snow here."
"We built it," said Sawyer, his hands in his pockets. "It all came from magic, every bit of it. None
of us are very gifted in architecture, mind, so it's mostly crude and repetitive. But it will do the
job."
Frank frowned. "The job?"
"The trap," said Windstrum. "This is it. We built this halfway between Prázdný and Síla. When the
Death Eaters start their march on Síla, they'll walk right into the trap, where we'll be waiting."
"I'll be marching with them," said Caradoc. "I told Lestrange that I want to be more involved with
these sorts of things. That's the only reason we even know about all this happening. I'll lead the
Death Eaters right into the trap, and we'll capture the whole lot of them."
"The rest of us will act like Muggles," Sawyer told them. "The Death Eaters will come in expecting
no resistance from twenty odd harmless Muggles, and we'll turn right around and engage them in
battle. Only, we'll have won before they even get the chance to fight back. The element of surprise
will end the fight before it starts."
"What about us?" asked Remus. "Most of us are under-age. Will we get done in for under-age
magic?"
Sawyer snorted. "Remus, mate, I'm the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. You have my
permission to do whatever the hell you want."
Caradoc's job had sounded easy. Lead the Death Eaters into the trap. Simple, uncomplicated, not
asking a lot from him.
Wrong.
Firstly, he couldn't just lead the Death Eaters anywhere. He wasn't their leader. He wasn't even
very important to them. They didn't invite him to any of the special meetings. He always felt
mightily out of place among them, like a child on their first day at a new school. Granted, that
could likely be attributed to Caradoc not sharing their murderous tendencies, but still. Everyone
wants to feel like they belong.
So Caradoc walked near the front of the pack, marching alongside all the big names. Rodolphus
Lestrange, Lucious Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Crabbe, Karkaroff, Wilkes, Selwyn, it was enough to
make the Auror in Caradoc want to scream.
Most of those names walked in front of him, which led to Caradoc's second problem. How could he
lead them if he wasn't even at the front? The trap was placed right between Prázdný and Síla, true,
so it would be hard for them to miss it, but there was more to it than that. If they approached the
make-believe town from any angle other than head on, it wouldn't look like a town full of people at
all. It would look instead like a mostly empty town, except for the entrance, where an assortment of
'Muggles' congregated suspiciously in what was most definitely a trap. So every now and then,
Caradoc would have to nudge those around him a certain way, maybe point, use his body language,
to keep those in front on track as subtly as possible. It was night by then, and dark. They all lit the
way by wandlight. Caradoc wondered if they looked like a church choir from a distance, marching
with their candles and little song books.
Caradoc sighed and gently nudged a few people to the right. Even considering that it was dark, it
turned out that Rodolphus Lestrange was remarkably bad at walking in a straight line.
All of it, however, paled in comparison to his biggest problem. Marching beside him, silent,
deadly, was a man Caradoc had seen a handful of times now. His skin was dark, his expression
always neutral, his eyes covered by aviator sunglasses. The man wore a yellow and white
pinstriped suit this time, tailored to perfection, and marched with such a swagger that Caradoc felt
uncoordinated just from watching him.
Taureau Barkley, the man's name was. Caradoc had learned this shortly after he'd apparated from
the make-believe trap-town back to Prázdný, his heart stopping when he'd seen the man. This man
was responsible for the death of Eugenia Jenkins. He was involved somehow with Emmett Fawley,
Minister candidate and Head of the Auror Department. Bringing Taureau Barkley in would lead to
proving Fawley to be the Ministry spy known as Blithe, allowing them to finally expose Blithe, a
task which had been the only thing on Caradoc's mind for months on end. And the key to it all was
walking next to him. With a swagger.
"We've met," said the man, noticing Caradoc's stare. His voice was deep and smooth. "I remember
you."
Caradoc nodded. "We fought. On the night you killed Cassus Lucio."
"If you would call that a fight."
"Yes, well, I was undercover. I wasn't trying to win."
"Yet I recall you getting back up each time I knocked you down."
"I had to sell it, didn't I?"
"Did you?"
"Yes," said Caradoc tightly. They were quiet for a few strides, before he couldn't resist adding,
"And you caught me by surprise with that first shot."
The man made a noise but didn't respond. Caradoc let the silence sit for a while. The fake Síla
town was visible in the distance, but only barely, only as a silhouette in the wandlight. Still, it
meant they were on track. Caradoc looked at the man again. "You accepted quite quickly that I'm a
spy on Dumbledore and his lot, you know. I was half expecting you to attack me, when I apparated
back into town earlier." Taureau Barkley said nothing, so Caradoc pressed on. "I'm an Auror. That's
why Rodolphus brought me on board. I can leak information straight from the department to keep
us two steps ahead of that lot. Have to do it without alerting Emmett Fawley, though." Caradoc had
to stop himself from crossing his fingers, begging the quiet man to say something incriminating of
Fawley. Caradoc was a Death Eater as far as the man knew, after all. Why wouldn't he let him in
on the secret?
An emotion flickered across the man's face before it was snatched away. "That must be so hard for
you," he said eventually.
Caradoc cursed inwardly, but didn't show his frustration. "It is." They were quiet once more, and
again Caradoc felt compelled to break the silence. He couldn't let this opportunity pass, not while
the elusive man walked right next to him. "I've never seen you around at meetings or anything, you
know. What exactly do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"
The look the man gave him told Caradoc that he did indeed mind him asking. "You wouldn't see
me at your meetings, Death Eater. I am not one of you."
"Then what are you?"
"The kind of person who does not trumpet his own information to anyone who asks."
Caradoc smirked. "I'm sorry, am I annoying you, Taureau?"
"You may not call me that."
"Mr Barkley, then?"
"No."
"What would you have me call you, my good man?"
The man's jaw was clenching ever so slightly. "You need not call me anything."
"But I want to, still."
"You know," said the man suddenly, stopping and facing him suddenly, "you talk like one of them.
One of Dumbledore's. Not like a Death Eater."
Caradoc stopped too. Some Death Eaters grumbled and passed around them. "I wouldn't be much
of a spy if I did now, would I?"
"Perhaps not." The man seemed to be surveying him behind his aviator sunglasses. "But joviality is
not something easily afforded to a Death Eater. A person whose job, whose very nature, incites
murder and torture and hate."
"You're a murderer, too," Caradoc reminded him.
"And do I strike you as the joking type?" The man raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses, then
started walking again. Caradoc joined him. "I am merely impressed. It is not easy to kill, even
harder to do so in high spirits. I look forward to seeing how you accomplish that today."
Caradoc's throat dried, and he looked ahead. Suddenly, he wasn't too eager to keep the conversation
going. He had gotten this far, lasted this long as a spy, without ever having to prove himself to
these people. That might change today. His head clouded. While maintaining this act as a Death
Eater, how long more could Caradoc expect to be a good person? After taking a life, perhaps, or
even assisting in taking that life, what would really be separating Caradoc from the Death Eaters?
Sure, he would likely have no choice in the matter. But would that be a good enough excuse for
him, when the time came?
He shook his head and marched on. The fake town was much closer now. Close enough for
Caradoc to see the figures walking about, as though it were just another normal night in Síla. Close
enough, even, for Caradoc to make out the faces of Aurors like Harold Minchum and Alastor
Moody, and the mostly concealed features of Alice Prewett and Anton Windstrum. Any moment
now…
At the front of the procession, Rodolphus had stopped walking. He was swaying, as though
unsteady on his feet. Immediately, Caradoc slipped on his Death Eater mask, charmed specially by
Sawyer to protect him. Around him, the other Death Eaters slowed, their eyelids drooping and their
heads bobbing. It was the work of Rainbow Dust, a compound the Irish Ministry had developed
during the war with Grindelwald. Spread around the perimeter of Síla, the scentless gas dulled the
senses, disorienting and slowing the mind. The Irish hadn't given it the name Rainbow Dust. That
was a result of the rest of the world associating the country only with gold, rainbows, and green
little leprechauns. And four-leaf clovers.
Caradoc watched as the entirety of the procession was slowly taken in by the compound, growing
dazed and uneasy as they drew nearer to the town's edge. After only a few more seconds, the
marching stopped entirely. Caradoc frowned suddenly, glanced around.
Taureau Barkley was nowhere to be seen.
The trap was sprung, and Lily and the others threw off their disguises and charged from the feeble
excuse of a town, straight towards the wobbling mass of Death Eaters. The twenty odd band of
pretend Muggles drew their wands and got straight to business, stunning and restraining the small
army without wasting any time - they couldn't be sure how much of it they had.
An unpleasant looking man with unfocused eyes was Lily's first target. She bound him with ropes
simply and moved on to the next one. Beside her, Peter was doing a fine job of stunning a Death
Eater, and then hesitantly bashing him in the face after his stunning spell didn't prove strong
enough. Lily moved on to the next one, and the next one, cutting down the black robed figures left
and right. The adults were going at an even quicker pace. Some of the Aurors worked so efficiently
at incapacitating their foes that Lily almost wondered if she was even doing it right. She punched
every odd one in the face, just to remind herself that she was.
"Nice technique, Evans!" James appeared by her side, grinning his stupid grin. "Maybe put more
hips into the next one. Like this!" He swung his fist into the face of a Death Eater on his right, and
a tooth went flying.
"Potter," she reprimanded, imitating his punch at a wide-mouthed Death Eater by his side and
knocking her target to the ground, "violence is never the answer!"
"It is sometimes." With a flick of his wand James hoisted a Death Eater into the air and dropped
him down on his head. "Remember when Joe Shingle asked you out in Fourth Year? And I decked
him in the face?"
"Yes," she snapped, stunning a looming Death Eater before her. "That was an entirely unnecessary
and inappropriate reaction, Potter. I didn't think it was funny then, and I don't now."
"He called you a bitch," James said matter-of-factly, flinging a Death Eater back with a flourish of
his wand. "He was talking about you to his friends after you rejected him. I heard it, tapped him on
the shoulder, and gave him what for."
She paused briefly, reassuring herself that James couldn't possibly know how much her heart was
swelling, and smiled lightly at him before throwing a body-bind curse on a dumb looking man with
bad teeth. "Well then. I suppose sometimes, violence might be the answer."
He grinned. "A girl after my own heart."
She smiled to herself. He didn't even know the half of it.
It was past the fake town, far along the path to the real Síla, that Caradoc caught up to him.
Taureau Barkley turned on the narrow path and watched Caradoc approach. Six Death Eaters
flanked the man. None of them were significant or memorable.
"It was a trap," said the man.
"Yeah." Caradoc pulled his mask off and stopped before them. "I noticed in time."
"We were at the front of the party." The man turned, started walking again. Caradoc and the others
followed behind as he continued. "We were the most exposed to whatever it was that was in the
air. I myself have been made immune to most toxins." Of course, Caradoc thought to himself
sourly. "These six were near the back of our congregation, the least exposed to the poisoned air. I
wonder, though, how you managed to avoid the trap, ah…"
"Caradoc."
"Caradoc. How did you do it?"
"I held my breath."
"Before you even knew there was a trap?"
"Yep." The man looked back at him, but Caradoc couldn't make much out what with the darkness
and those damned aviator sunglasses, but he recognized doubt in the air. "It was Rainbow Dust,"
Caradoc said eventually. "I recognized the scent, pieced together what was going on."
"You are familiar with the scent of Rainbow dust? As far as I am aware, it is very rare."
Caradoc shrugged. "My line of work takes me many places."
The other Death Eaters said nothing in all this, and Caradoc had to wonder what they made of the
exchange between the two. Who did they trust more? Who did they believe?
"What's the plan, then?" Caradoc asked once the silence pressed down too hard. "Eight of us left.
What do you propose we do?"
"We do our job." The man glanced again at Caradoc. "We came here to take Síla. I'm sure eight
trained killers are more than enough to take out a town of Muggles in the middle of the night.
Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yep," said Caradoc uneasily. "I sure am glad you're such a quick thinker."
The Death Eaters near the back were the ones to recover first, and suddenly the fight became much
more two sided. Remus found himself on the backfoot quite quickly. Green jets of light started
shooting through the air as more and more Death Eaters joined the fight, and soon it was almost an
even match between the two sides. Almost. As great as the Death Eaters' numbers were, they didn't
have an Alastor Moody. The man truly was a warrior, diving into the throng of robed figures with a
snarl and felling any that dared to stand in his line of sight.
"I broke up with Amelia," said Frank.
Remus turned to tell him he didn't care, but saw that the Head Boy was talking to Alice.
"I heard," she said, ducking under a flying spell. "It was weeks ago."
"Still," said Frank. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you about it yet."
"What's there to say? I know you've liked me for a long time, Frank. And now, I reckon I like you
too. Like like."
"But it's more complicated than that," Frank insisted. "You're my best friend, Alice. I don't want to
lose-"
Remus shoved him out of the path of a green jet of light and fixed them both with a look. "Is now
really the best time?"
Frank looked awkward, but Alice was unabashed. Merlin, what had James done to that girl?
"We taking a break?" called Sirius, as he joined them with Marlene a step behind him. Both were
flushed and grinning happily. Were it not the middle of a battlefield, Remus would have assumed
they'd been getting up to some 'mischief', as Sirius would call it, with their tousled hair and heaving
chests. The evidence to the contrary was a sheen of sweat on their foreheads, their wands at the
ready.
"No," Remus asserted. "We were just about to get back into it."
Windstrum came rushing by, looking at the teens incredulously. "What do you think this is, the
Common Room? We're at war! Quit standing around!"
With a sigh, Remus turned away from the others and sent a jelly-legs curse at a running Death
Eater, who tripped and fell on his face. Why did he have to be the only one of his friends with his
head screwed on right?
Síla was a quiet, still town in the dead of night. The Death Eaters stood in the main street and
looked around, seeming to be making their minds up on where to start killing. Taureau Barkley
lifted a finger and pointed at a barn sitting at the end of the street, near the edge of town. "There.
We'll start there."
The barn was dark. Caradoc watched him rummage around by the wall, and a gas lamp lit up,
illuminating the place. There were piles of hay but no animals. It smelled like the tranquility of
farm life.
"Go fetch us our generous hosts," the man instructed the Death Eaters, pointing to a wooden door
by the far wall that no doubt led to the house adjoining the cozy little barn. When just the two of
them were left, he looked at Caradoc. "Excited?"
Caradoc smiled, trying to make sure it reached his eyes. "Of course. I've been itching for some fun
all day."
"Good. You'll have plenty quite shortly."
"Why are you doing this?" Caradoc asked before he could stop himself. "You say you aren't a
Death Eater. Why go out of your way to kill Muggles with the rest of us?"
Whenever the man looked at him, Caradoc felt like he was being evaluated. He met the gaze of
those dark glasses unflinchingly. "I have my orders," the man said, "the same as you Death Eaters
have yours."
"And who gives you those orders, I wonder?"
The man didn't move, not even a muscle, but somehow he was looking a little more looming,
threatening. Caradoc wondered what the man would do if he reached for his wand.
He was saved from finding out by the Death Eaters returning to the barn, prodding along three
Muggles before them. The Muggles were in their pyjamas, looking terrified. Two women, and an
elderly man. They stumbled and shuffled ahead of the Death Eaters, hands shaking slightly, and
with a flick of one of the Death Eaters' wands they all dropped down and rested against a small
bundle of hay.
"Are these the folks who we have so rudely intruded upon?" Taureau Barkley asked.
The Death Eater pointing his wand at the Muggles responded. "Yeah. They were sleeping, but they
got up all in a hurry to welcome us." The others sniggered behind him.
"Anyone else in the house?"
"Well, they had a dog, too. A big one, but don't worry. I killed the brute."
The man regarded the Death Eater, ignoring the Muggles' soft crying. His voice dripped with
disdain. "Why?"
The Death Eater shrugged. "Just to warm up a bit, you know?"
After a few seconds, the man turned, acting like the Death Eater wasn't there anymore, and looked
at the Muggles. He pulled out his wand. "We're going to kill you," he said softly. Their crying
grew louder. The elderly man made a feeble attempt to put his arm in front of the two women,
pushing himself before them. "That will not save anyone, I'm afraid," said the man. "I'm going to
let you in on a huge secret. We're wizards. We have magic."
As if to demonstrate, a Death Eater behind him levitated a bundle of hay, leering stupidly in a
clumsy show of power. To the Muggles, it was terrifying. Caradoc saw their eyes follow the
bundle of hay, widening, filling with fear, then tracing back to the Death Eater's raised wand, and
staying there.
"Do not consider yourselves unfortunate," the dark skinned man said. "We are going to kill
everyone in town, after all. Not just you three." This didn't seem to make them feel better, but the
man didn't seem to care all that much. "Before that, though, I want to see something. Caradoc?"
"Yes?" Caradoc's voice cracked slightly, but the man didn't acknowledge it.
"Come over here, if you please. I think we'll let you do the honors." Caradoc walked slowly to
stand before the Muggles, and stopped, starting to freeze up. "Go on, start us off. The old-timer
seems a bit keen, don't you think? Kill him first."
A Death Eater protested. "How come he gets to-"
Caradoc didn't turn to see, but he assumed Taureau Barkley silenced the Death Eater with a look.
There was a reasonable, smart voice in Caradoc's head telling him that he didn't have a choice. No
one would be able to blame him. The two women were quivering, their cheeks wet with tears. The
elderly man had stopped crying and was still. He stared into Caradoc's eyes, and on those lined
features he saw resignation. What more could there be, faced with magic and wizards and
imminent death?
Caradoc looked hard into those eyes. It wasn't, however, because he was looking for something
profound in them. He wasn't going to kill the man. He never was. Instead, staring into the old
man's eyes, he found the reflections of the seven enemies standing behind him. No wands drawn.
Faces relaxed. Caradoc slowly lifted his wand, pointed it at the Muggles, his hand deadly still. Fear
found only at wand-point joined the resignation in the elderly man's eyes, and the voice in
Caradoc's head told him his plan was stupid, and reckless, and not to do it. That's what it all came
down to, Caradoc reckoned, as he tuned out the voice and focussed his mind. Simply tuning the
voice out that tried to claim there was no choice, that urged him to take the easier
path, that's where the line could be drawn between a Death Eater and himself. Good and evil, as it
were. As far as Caradoc was concerned, there was always a choice.
He whirled around and stunned the first Death Eater. The rest jerked and reached for their wands
and he heard Taureau Barkley laugh but didn't pay attention. He whirled, flicking his wand to bind
the second Death Eater in thick ropes, and when the third reared up beside him Caradoc crunched a
fist into his nose and he dropped. Jets of light shot at him now and he dove towards the fourth
Death Eater, rolled, and when he sprung up he grabbed the Death Eater's wand arm, pushed it
away, and turned him round. With this struggling new shield in front of him, he looked at his three
remaining enemies.
A blue jet of lit left Taureau Barkley's wand and hit the Death Eater, whose head lolled back. The
body went limp, but Caradoc held him up by the scruff of his neck and charged. He threw the
unconscious man at the feet of the next Death Eater and cast a full-body-bind curse, felling his foe.
The last Death Eater ran at Caradoc, and a simple stunning spell flung the robed figure back against
the wall. He hit the ground and was still.
The last two standing, Taureau Barkley squared his shoulders and smiled at Caradoc, like he was
deeply amused that it was just the two of them now. They started circling.
"What's so funny?" Caradoc asked.
"I am simply remembering the last time we fought. You had two friends, then, and you still could
not beat me. What could you possibly hope to do now?"
"Things have changed," Caradoc said quietly, not letting his eyes leave the man's face for even a
moment. He couldn't see the eyes, covered as they were by those blasted aviator sunglasses. He
wondered if that was why he wore them - to give him an edge in these exact situations.
"What exactly has changed, pray tell?" asked the man.
Caradoc steeled himself. "This time," he said, coming to a stop, "I'm angry." His stunning spell
careened towards his foe, and the man raised a shield charm in time.
Caradoc waved his wand, and three bails of hay behind the man crashed into his back. The man
stumbled, eyes widening, and Caradoc seized the opportunity.
"Stupefy!"
At the last moment before the jet of light hit him, the man's wand flicked, and it was like a bomb
had gone off in the barn. White light filled the air. Caradoc went flying back, hit a wooden wall,
fell to the ground. His ears were ringing. His vision blurred. Squinting, blinking quickly, Caradoc
saw the man leaning against the opposite wall, dazed. They had both been thrown by the spell.
Painstakingly, Caradoc got to his feet. His wand was still in his hand. Good. He put one foot in
front of the other, the commands from his brain barely reaching his limbs in time, and he ambled
towards his opponent. The man jerked his arm and blue light streaked past Caradoc's head, but
Caradoc ignored it, raised his own wand. "Stupefy!"
The man's wand waved like a cricket bat and the spell went was flung aside somehow, the streak of
light rushing harmlessly into one of the wooden walls instead. Caradoc pressed on, throwing a
string of hexes at the man who, from the ground, dodged and shielded and redirected each
dangerous spell with heavy concentration on his face. When Caradoc unwittingly got close enough,
the man sprung forwards and tackled him to the ground. Caradoc's head hit the ground first,
rocking his equilibrium. A wand blurred in front of him. Caradoc reached up, grabbed the wand
hand and twisted. A short jet of light sizzled into the ground beside Caradoc's head. The man
grunted, and with his other hand he punched Caradoc full in the face. There was a crack, Caradoc's
head spun, and blood burst up and onto his face. He knew his nose was broken. His eyes filled with
tears. Another punch, glancing off Caradoc's cheek. He was going to pass out.
Closing his eyes against the tears, he adjusted his grip on the man's wand hand and twisted more.
Caradoc rolled them both on the ground until he was on top of his opponent, and he opened his
eyes blearily. The man's wand arm was strong, and they both wrestled for control of the wand.
With his other hand, the man wrapped his fingers around Caradoc's throat and squeezed. Caradoc
gagged, used his last reserves of strength and his other arm to grab the man's wand hand and push
it towards his opponent's snarling face. With a two handed grip, he slowly overpowered that
absurdly strong arm. Lights danced in front of Caradoc's eyes. With each moment of grappling, he
lost more oxygen, and his limbs grew weaker. He wouldn't last much longer. The wand finally
rested against the man's temple. The man's grip of the wand loosened briefly, and in that moment,
both hands on the wand, Caradoc cast the last spell nonverbally.
Stupefy.
The man jerked, head banging against the ground. The hand loosened around his throat, and
Caradoc gasped for air, rolling to the side and sucking in deep lung fulls. After some moments, he
looked at the man, who was groaning on the ground. Caradoc found his wand, lost in the struggle,
and touched it to the man's temple. "Obliviate." Taureau Barkley couldn't know that Caradoc had
turned on him. He went around to the rest of the Death Eaters and did the same. He heard a
whimper suddenly and whirled.
The Muggles, cowering in the corner, were staring at him.
He'd forgotten about them completely. He took a step forward and the three of them flinched. "I'm
not going to hurt you," he said quietly. "If you can understand me, the spell I will use will cause no
harm. I only want to clear your memories of what has transpired here." The fear in their eyes didn't
change, and he sighed. "Whatever. Obliviate." Their faces went slack, their eyes unfocused. "And
I'm sorry about your dog."
As he left the barn, with seven Death Eaters and Taureau Barkley bound, gagged, and levitating
along behind him, Caradoc glanced around at Síla. An entire town of people saved, and they would
never even know it. With a sigh and a wince, Caradoc apparated from the town, taking his captives
along with him. Being a spy was hard, Caradoc thought to himself for the upteenth time that day.
But he reckoned he did a decent job of it.
With all said and done, there were about twenty captured Death Eaters that day. The rest had come
to their senses and run, with Moody and some others hot on their heels. Síla, the real Síla, had gone
untouched. It was the first decisive victory against the Death Eaters, and there had been no
casualties. Not one. Sawyer had seemed chuffed about that.
Lily spied James sitting on a wall at the edge of the fake town, gazing out at where they had all
been battling mere hours ago. He looked at her as she approached him, his lips curving upward.
That always happened when he looked at her. It made Lily happy.
"Alright, Evans?"
"Not bad, Potter." She hopped up on the wall beside him. "Busy night, right?"
He snorted, nodded at the horizon. "Morning."
"Oh! Do you know what that means?"
"We haven't slept?"
"It's Christmas Eve now, Potter. Happy Christmas Eve!"
He squinted at her. "Okay, first of all, it's the morning of what will eventually be Christmas Eve.
I'm pretty sure for it to actually be Christmas Eve, it has to be, oh, I don't know, an actual eve? As
in the evening?"
"Happy Christmas Eve, Potter."
"And secondly, who celebrates Christmas Eve? Of all days? Who looks forward to Christmas Eve,
wakes up in the morning and says to themselves, 'Oh my goodness, it's Christmas Eve, I need to
wish everyone'?"
"Me," she said simply.
He shook his head. "You're weird. Your obsession with Christmas is unhealthy, you know. I need
you to know that."
"I do."
"But you simply don't care."
"I don't."
He nodded. "As long as you know, then."
James hopped off the wall, started walking into the fake town. Lily felt like sitting, but the urge to
turn and call out to him seized her suddenly. "Potter." He looked back, eyebrows raised. His lips
curved upwards at her and Lily smiled. "I just thought I'd let you know," she said, "if someone
called you a bitch, I'd punch them too."
A million things flashed in his eyes over a split-second, and Lily thought she recognized a glimmer
of hesitant hope among them. He tilted his head. Seeming to settle on amused, he grinned at her.
"Thanks, Evans."
She nodded, and turned back to watch the sunlight crack the night sky open like an egg, bright yolk
bleeding into the darkness.
A Christmas Prison-break
On Christmas Day, the sun rose at eight in the morning. As far as Lily was concerned, it was long
overdue. She had gotten up at five, bright-eyed and wide-grinned, and shaken Marlene awake.
"You're not my best friend until at least nine," Marlene had mumbled, before rolling over in a huff
and drifting back off to sleep.
Slightly offended but with her spirits still intact, Lily had raced from her friend's room and danced
about the long hallways to an imaginary tune. Marlene's house was the typical Pure-blood abode,
with high ceilings, fancy ornaments, portraits of long-dead relatives, and a rich history about the
place. Not quite as grand as James' manor had been, but ridiculously big nonetheless. She smiled at
the house-elves, avoided eye-contact with the more grumpy looking portraits, and steered clear of
Marlene's parents' living quarters, as the middle-aged witch and wizard had made it quite clear to
Lily over the years that they did not take well to being woken up early. It occurred to Lily that the
trait might run in the family. She also longed to one day call her own bedroom a 'living quarters'.
What a nice life that would be.
On the dot of nine, Lily shook Marlene awake again.
"You're not my best friend until t-"
"Nope," said Lily, pulling the covers off and drawing the blinds. "Happy Christmas, Mar!"
Light crashed into the room like a bowling ball through the window. Marlene screeched, really
screeched, and covered her face with her hands, writhing about on the bed as though in immense
pain.
"The weather is quite nice," Lily called over her friend's screeching. "I think you'll really like it."
"I hate the weather."
"Oh, come on," said Lily. "You haven't even gotten to know it yet."
Marlene gave her a filthy look and slowly sat up, straightening her top and scratching her head.
"Happy Christmas," Lily tried again.
Marlene made a sound through a closed mouth.
"What?"
"Hpy Chrstms."
"I'm sorry?"
Marlene sighed and stood, stretched. "Happy Christmas, Lily."
Lily beamed. "Thanks!" She held out a wrapped box in her hands. It was hand-wrapped,
painstakingly so. Marlene took it and shredded the paper without a thought, making Lily wince a
little before grinning widely again as the present emerged from its wrapping.
"Rock and Roll and Grindylows - Volume Two, by the Fortuna Majors," Marlene read aloud. She
looked genuinely impressed. "How did you know I listen to the Majors? I'm sure I've never
mentioned it before."
"Well, I wrote a letter to your mum, who directed me to your Auntie Tilda, the one you went to that
Quidditch game with, and she told me your cousin Lucas buys you music, but when I tried to
contact him I could only reach his ex-girlfriend Mindy, so I-"
"I love it," said Marlene. She pointed vaguely to her desk. "There's yours."
It wasn't wrapped, but Lily hardly cared. She picked up her present and smiled widely. A first
edition copy of Bathilda Bagshot's, Beauxbatons: A Less Rich But Still Impressive History. The
title had raised some eyebrows in the international community, and its clear bias towards Hogwarts
had boosted its popularity and sales by no small margin. Copies were rare and Lily had been dying
to read it. She looked at Marlene with a toothy smile and hugged her. "Oh, I love it, Mar! Thank
you."
Marlene groaned, still rubbing her eyes, and patted Lily on the back. "Yes, yes, any time. Can we
get breakfast now?"
"I've already eaten," Lily said. They left Marlene's room and started the treck through the hallways
and corridors on their way to the dining hall. "But I can watch you eat, if you'd like."
Marlene sighed. "I'd forgotten what you get like at Christmas. It's only been a year, but somehow
I'd forgotten. Must be a repressed memory."
Lily pretended not to hear her. "I'm looking forward to the party."
The other girl grimaced. "I told you, I wouldn't call it a party. All the Pure-blood families getting
together to eat dainty, fancy little toothpick foods, showing off their expensive dress robes and
jewellery, making connections and networking with other filthy rich people so they can laugh
about how good they all have it - not a party, Lily."
"Well it sounds like a lot of fun. There's an orchestra, right?"
"Yeah."
"And dancing?"
"If you count the waltz."
"So food, music, dancing… any drinks?" Marlene nodded. "Well, that sounds like a party to me."
Her friend sighed. "Trust me, Lily. It is not a party."
They walked past the ballroom. House-elves bustled about, setting it up for the party. Caterers
streamed in and out too, looking crazed and manic in their efforts to prepare the place, even though
the party wouldn't actually start until evening. The ballroom was massive, and charms were put in
before Lily's very eyes to make it even bigger, grander, more breathtaking and impressive, until it
was fit to hold a king's banquet and still seem a tad much.
Marlene and Lily walked on and, despite herself, Lily's mind wandered. "Will every Pure-blood
family be here?" she asked.
Marlene shrugged. "All the big ones. The Sacred Twenty-Eight, as they like to be called. Plenty of
other important names too, that just aren't quite as pretentious, but every bit as ancient and
respected. The Potters are a good example."
Lily's heart shuddered and roared to life, like a key had been turned in the ignition. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, they're the good sort. Although I'm sure you know that by now."
"What's that mean?"
Marlene rolled her eyes at Lily. "Come now, I know you have your grievances with James but you
can't deny, he's a good guy. Even if you didn't think so a few years ago, which you were wrong
about, these days he's especially good. I don't know how you don't see it, Lily. He does so much
for others, he's matured, and he's almost never in trouble any more. Not to mention how much
taller he's grown. And his physique has really set, too. Now that I'm on the team I can tell you, our
exercises at practice are intense. And in the locker rooms? Merlin. He's pretty well-built, Lily."
Lily's imagination had been unruly enough as it was these days, running rampant with James and
his wind swept hair and stupid grin. The last thing it needed was Marlene's very provocative
description of the boy. It took her mind to sultry places, and she felt herself blushing. She spoke
quickly before the silence grew too prolonged, hoping Marlene wouldn't look at her face. "He's an
arrogant toe-rag."
"Not really. Certainly not anymore, at any rate. In fact, I reckon the two of you are quite similar."
Lily scoffed and Marlene looked at her seriously. "Really, Lily. You're both hot-headed, you're
great leaders, brilliant students, passionate, brave, caring - everyone respects and likes you. The
two of you go together so seamlessly in everyone's minds. James and Lily, Lily and James. At this
point, you're more alike than anyone else I know. No one suits you better than each other."
Lily stared. "Where did all that come from?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you sound like our biggest fan. I didn't know you cared so much."
Marlene snorted. "Wait 'till you hear Black go on about it. He's a hopeless romantic, as it turns
out."
A coy smile reached Lily's face. "Is that right?"
"Yeah, he-" Marlene looked at her and rolled her eyes, quickening her step to try and leave Lily
behind. "No. You are not turning this on me."
"Tell me more about how romantic Sirius Black is, Mar!"
"Shut it, Lily."
Taureau Barkley sat still on the edge of his bed while the boat rocked to and fro. His body refused
to give into momentum's urges to rock along with it. His prison cell didn't have much to offer the
eyes, aside from his bed. A dirty sink, a hole in the ground, rust on his cell bars. There was a
mirror on the wall, at least. From that, he found some way to pass the time.
He looked at his reflection, his dark skin, his sharp cheekbones, his deep black eyes that he'd
trained to stay expressionless. His aviator sunglasses had been smashed. The prison guards had
taken his pinstriped suit, replaced it with these prison rags, torn and essentially colorless, a grey
and brown medley of filth.
From the cells around him, he heard clanging, frantic and desperate voices from his fellow
prisoners. Once the boat reached Azkaban, they would never be free again. Of that there was no
doubt in anyone's mind. They had until the boat reached land to escape, break out, and no way of
knowing how much longer was left.
Taureau Barkley didn't join them in those futile attempts. He was not one to panic, nor to beg for
and cling to freedom. If he was thrown in an Azkaban cell and left to rot, then so be it.
His mind wandered back to the circumstances of his capture. He remembered fighting, his
opponent a blurry figure he couldn't quite put a name to, and he remembered a wand against his
head before things went dark. He'd woken up in a cell much like this one, his only company a
smattering of those crude and unpleasant Death Eaters. The fingers on Taureau Barkley's wand
hand twitched, itching for a chance to let loose against his captor. He concentrated, trying to see in
his mind's eye that blurry figure, trying to picture the face. He couldn't. A memory charm, no
doubt. This only vexed him more. The thought that his opponent, after besting him in single
combat, went as far as to alter his memory of the event was embarrassing, infuriating. Was he even
remembering the events correctly? Did he really lose that fight? He had no way of knowing, and
likely never would.
These thoughts occupied his mind for most of the boat ride. They cleared from his head at the
sound of footsteps. Light and easy. Carefree. They stopped. A figure was standing at the bars of his
cell, watching him from the other side. He didn't turn, kept looking into the mirror. After a few
seconds, the figure spoke. "It's time to go."
He turned then, looked curiously at his employer. The man went by the name of Blithe, and Blithe
smiled in at Taureau Barkley like they were good friends. They were not. "You're breaking me
out?" Taureau Barkley asked.
"Yes," said Blithe, tapping his wand to the bars. His cell door sprang open. "I can't have you put in
Azkaban. I understand you are a powerful Occlumens, but even the most headstrong and
determined individual cannot stay that way after five minutes with a Dementor. The Ministry's
Legilimens will crack you eventually, and that would be… unfortunate."
Taureau Barkley stood and walked out of his cell. He took the spare wand Blithe offered, tested its
grip. "How gracious of you."
"I agree." Blithe started walking, clearly knowing he would follow. In the cells surrounding them,
prisoners begged, pleaded, holding their arms through the bars with desperation leaking from their
voices and faces. The two ignored them. "The easier option would have been to kill you, of course.
But good help is getting increasingly difficult to come by. Instead, consider this an offer to renew
your contract with me."
"And if I refuse?" There were a few seconds in which Blithe looked at him and said nothing, and
after a moment Taureau Barkley nodded. "I accept." Blithe looked away, expressionless. They
turned a corner, walking fast. "I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate, though. What
would you have done if they'd Floo'd me to Azkaban directly?"
"You think they have fireplaces in Azkaban?"
A snort. "Good point." They approached the next corner. "I must say, this is surprisingly easy. I
know you're a big deal and all, but it is still rather impressive that you can just turn up and release a
prisoner with no questions asked."
They turned the corner and two dead bodies lay spread-eagled on the ground. Guards, lifeless eyes,
no spilled blood. Their faces were calm. They hadn't even known they were about to die before
they'd been killed. Blithe didn't slow down, but gave a wry smile as they stepped over the bodies.
"I ran into a few complications."
"I see that." Taureau Barkley held his wand a little higher from then on, ready and alert. They
approached a set of stairs.
"These lead to the deck," said Blithe. "There should be about ten of them up there, raring for a
fight."
"Wait," he said, frowning. "Why don't we just apparate?"
"If anyone could apparate on and off this prison ship, what use would it be?"
"Well what's the plan, then? How are we supposed to get off this damn thing?"
"We jump."
"Excuse me?"
Blithe sounded impatient. "We jump off the ship. Anti-apparition is only active on the ship itself.
If we jump off and apparate before we hit the water, we should be fine."
"Should?"
"We'll be fine."
Taureau Barkley wasn't so sure. "We might need another plan."
"Well we don't have one." Blithe started climbing the metal stairs, his footsteps clanging along
behind him with each step, and with an inward groan Taureau Barkley followed. He didn't even
bother trying to mask his own footsteps. If they were heard, then they were heard.
The two emerged onto the deck. It was dark, raining. Storm clouds roiled and tumbled into each
other like fighting bulls. Each foamy wave of the restless, angry ocean rocked the boat as they
slapped against the hull. Twelve prison guards stood on deck and stared as the two men walked
casually off the metal stairs.
"Ten?" Taureau Barkley whispered from the corner of his mouth.
"I said about ten," Blithe snapped.
"You shouldn't be up here," said one of the guards dumbly.
Blithe smiled good-naturedly. "We're breaking out."
"You're… what?"
"It's quite simple, my friend. You see…"
Taureau Barkley tuned them all out. Though he knew his employer was really a Death Eater, a
double-agent among the Dark Lord's enemies, the mysterious man still carried himself like one of
Albus Dumbledore's henchmen. The witticisms, attempts at banter before a battle.
Taureau Barkley had little patience for such things.

He raised his wand and cast the spell he prided himself on most. Between the twelve guards and
the two men, a small orb about the size of a marble came into being, hovering at waist height. At
first none of them noticed it, but then it pulsed, and drew in all eyes. It pulsed again, and in a split
second it grew in size exponentially, becoming as big as a wrecking ball. Taureau Barkley turned
away, Blithe took the cue to cover his ears and turned too. Neither saw the next pulse, but there
was a flash of light like thunder behind them, and a deafening boom. Taureau Barkley felt his ears
pop, and a rush of air behind him forced him to take a step, then another, struggling not to be
blown off his feet. The pressure behind him stopped suddenly, the noise and the light vanished,
and he turned around.
The guards were scattered across the deck, on their backs, on their fronts, folded over railings.
None standing. Blithe looked at him. "Good job."
He shrugged. "If I had done it with my own wand, it would have been far stronger. Any chance you
know where I can find it?"
"Your wand?" asked Blithe, walking towards one of the guards who was struggling to get back to
her feet. "It'll be in the Ministry somewhere, being examined. I could probably get a hold of it, but
that would raise some questions."
"What are you doing?"
Blithe glanced back at him, firing a killing curse at the guard without looking. The guard hit the
deck, dead. "I can't leave them alive, unfortunately. They've seen my face." He walked on to the
next guard, who was still on the ground.
"Just wipe their memories. This is unnecessary."
"For a mercenary, you are strangely squeamish about death."
"As a mercenary," he said through slightly gritted teeth, "I don't kill if I can avoid it. Especially not
if a simple Obliviate will suffice."
Blithe looked at him again, killed another guard without looking. "Memory charms can be broken,
Mr Barkley."
He cocked his head, watched Blithe kill another, and another. Memory charms could be broken. He
would have to remember that, the next time the blurry face of his captor passed through his mind.
He had been beaten by someone, and he intended to find out who. "What about the prisoners?" he
asked. "Some of them have seen you."
"There will be no prisoners." Another green flash of light. Another dead body. "I wandered about
the ship before I reached your cell. With this lot dead, there is not a single living guard on board.
I've adjusting the ship's course. In about five minutes, we will run aground of some very sharp,
very ship-sinking rocks."
Taureau Barkley stared at him. Even Blithe seemed distasteful about this course of action. "I see."
He walked over to the edge of the ship, gripped the railing, and looked down at the churning
waves. "We jump right off, then?" Blithe nodded. "And do you have anywhere in mind?"
"I will not require your services for some time," said Blithe. "Go wherever you want. I believe it is
Christmas. Find someone to spend it with."
"Understood."
"Anyone special for you, Mr Barkley?" Blithe was smiling, and there was a look in his eyes that
Taureau Barkley didn't like. "Any loved ones? Significant others, perhaps?"
He gave Blithe a look, a look that he hoped conveyed his exact thoughts in regards to the question.
He did so loathe familiarity. If his expression said mind your own business, then Blithe seemed to
take the hint and said no more. Taureau Barkley turned back to look over the railing. He took a
deep breath and jumped off.
Falling, falling, falling. Air rushing past his face, drops of water running up his cheeks, frothing,
crashing ocean getting closer and closer.
He spun. Deliberation. Determination. Destination. Compression, expansion, space pushing and

wind hissing, and with a pop, he was home.
He could smell chicken cooking.
"Is that you, Taureau?"
He smiled, walked into the kitchen, and kissed the person that made him feel so lucky.
"Yes."
It wasn't a party, Lily had to admit. Though music played, very lovely music from a very talented
orchestra, no one was dancing. Though food was served, it was paltry food, not even snacks really.
Little balls of meat on the ends of toothpicks, fancy crackers with bitter, fancy dip.
The ballroom was crowded, though. Packed full of important people in expensive clothes, chatting
and laughing and drinking and conniving their way through the night.
"So I was wrong," she said.
Marlene grinned. "Yep."
Marlene's dress was exquisite. Silky and elegant as it flowed off her frame, but slim and form-
fitting. Lily reckoned hers was better though. It belonged to Marlene, of course, but she felt like it
had really been made for her. Silver and smooth, hugging her body like a second skin but feeling
more comfortable than any she'd worn before. She wondered what James would think. Then she
berated herself for caring. Then she wondered what he'd think again.
"There are the MacMillans," said Marlene, pointing to a friendly looking group of people chatting
by the drinks table. "And the Abbots. Oh, and there's the Greengrasses. Wow, and some Weasleys,
too. Never seen them here before."
"That's nice, Mar," Lily said, scanning the crowd for any real familiar faces.
"Urgh, the Parkinsons. Why were they invited?"
A man and woman prodding each other and sniggering to themselves caught Lily's attention.
Something about the woman was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on it from this
distance. The man, though, was surreal to look at. Put quite simply, he was an older James Potter.
Messy black hair peppered with grey, a lop-sided and lined grin, the glasses, the twinkle in the eye,
it was uncanny.
Lily's seemingly uncontrollable feelings for the prat of a boy made her head feel light. Obviously,
it was James' dad. She therefore felt very weird about the way a lot of the man's features made her
feel. It was a rush, a soaring heart, and then she stopped and just felt somewhat gross about the
whole thing.
"The Potters!" Marlene grabbed Lily's hand and dragged her to the couple, who looked over as
they approached and beamed.
"Marlene," said Mr Potter jovially. "Why, I haven't seen you since you were sixteen!"
"I'm sixteen now, Mr Potter."
"That's the spirit!"
"Marlene," said Mrs Potter, smiling at her. "So lovely to see you, dear. And your friend, of course,"
she added, turning to Lily and grasping her hand. "Euphemia Potter. And this is my husband,
Fleamont."
"I'm her husband," said Mr Potter.
"Hello," said Lily, struggling to control her smile. Oh, she wanted to impress them. She really
wanted to impress them. "I'm Lily." Good job, said a voice in her head.
"Lily goes to school with us," said Marlene. "I'm sure James has mentioned her."
Mrs Potter frowned. "Should he have?" She looked at Lily again. "Oh my, you're his girlfriend,
aren't you?"
"No," said Lily. She was so close to saying not yet instead that she almost bit her tongue. "No,
we're just friends."
Marlene frowned. "Black hasn't said anything about Lily?"
"He might have," said Mrs Potter thoughtfully. She was clearly thinking back, looking deep in
thought.
"Will you marry my son?" Mr Potter asked Lily, smiling politely.
"What?"
"He's not that bad, really. Sure, there's his face and personality to work around, but once you get
over that he can be quite charming."
"You look just like him, dear," Mrs Potter sighed. "Face and all."
"But his personality, Euphy, it's just terrible-"
"Excuse my husband," Mrs Potter told the girls. "He thinks he's funny."
"Well the apple certainly didn't fall far from the tree," snorted Marlene.
"The apple fell so far from the tree," said Mr Potter, "it's in another orchard."
"You don't have to marry our son," Mrs Potter told Lily. "We'd love for you to take him off our
hands, but we can hardly throw the boy at you."
"Don't worry," said Lily. Her voice was too high. "I don't intend to."
Mrs Potter's smile thinned. "Are you saying there's something wrong with my boy?"
"Oh dear," said Marlene.
"What?" said Lily, horrified.
"You think you're so much better than him?"
"No!" This was going terribly. "No, no, no, I don't think that at all! Potter- J-James is amazing!
Honest, I think the world of your son right now, in fact I wish I was-"
Mrs Potter grinned widely and put a hand on Lily's shoulder. "Only joking!" Lily's jaw dropped.
Mr Potter guffawed and clapped his hands. Marlene was sniggering beside her. "Really, you might
be too good for our son, dear," Mrs Potter continued, looking quite sad. "Fleamont, maybe we
should start looking for dumb ones. I heard the youngest Parkinson girl is quite pretty."
Mr Potter made a face. "I don't want to be related to the Parkinsons."
"The disgusting thing about Pure-blood families, dear," said Mrs Potter thoughtfully, "is that I
think you already are."
Lily winced. Marlene tried to seize the conversation before it could go too far down that rabbit-
hole. "Where is Potter, anyway? I can't see him and Black anywhere."
Immediately, Lily snapped her gaze to Mr and Mrs Potter's faces. The hope flaring inside her was
shameful, but she couldn't help it. James being here would make her day. Merlin, it would make
her Christmas break.
"I don't think they're coming," said Mrs Potter.
"I saw them getting dressed all fancy, though," Mr Potter said, frowning. "Maybe they'll turn up
later."
Lily's heart plummeted. A drab night it would be, then. Surprisingly, Marlene's response captured a
fragment of Lily's disappointment in her tone. "Oh. Well, alright then. We'll see you guys later, I
suppose."
The Potters waved goodbye and left, with Mrs Potter lecturing her husband about something as
they walked off.
"What now?" asked Lily, failing to reign in all of the misery in her voice.
"I don't know." Again, Marlene sounded just as downtrodden.
Lily looked around, wondering what the whole point of this stupid party was, anyway. She looked
at Marlene as a random thought struck her. "Hey," she said cautiously, "you don't think… he…
will be here, do you?"
Years ago, Marlene had confided in Lily and Alice a fact about herself that she had gone to great
lengths to hide from the rest of their peers. There was a name Lily and Alice had been forbidden
from saying, lest they suffer Marlene's wrath.
"Probably," said Marlene despondently. "This night just keeps getting worse."
Lily couldn't help but agree with her.
A house-elf appeared by their side suddenly, bearing a torn piece of parchment. "This just arrived
for you, mistress," the house-elf squeaked.
Marlene took the parchment, and Lily thanked the house-elf before looking over her friend's
shoulder. She recognized the handwriting immediately. She didn't know when she had learned his
handwriting. Maybe it was during the many times she had watched him write lines in detention.
She hadn't known she'd paid such close attention for so long. Merlin, for just how long had
she really liked him?
She wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that.
Friends,
Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs cordially invite you all to the Marauders' Feast.
(Address is on the back). Moony wishes to request that someone brings Muggle money, as Messrs
Padfoot and Prongs must confess to have none at all. Whosoever does bring money shall be
handsomely compensated. Wormtail has - there, five pence was crossed out and replaced with ten
pence - but we are not sure if that is very much or very little at this stage. We are cautiously
optimistic, but please, do bring us some more.
Christmas is a time to be with those important to us, and at the risk of sounding like some
Hufflepuffs, we include you lot in that. We want to see you. We have sent multiple copies of this out
to you all - that is Frank, Alice, Lily, and Marlene, but Mr Padfoot would like to emphasize
Marlene in particular. He wants to see you. Prongs doesn't think a group letter is the place for
that, but Padfoot reminds Prongs that it is Christmas, which Prongs considers to be a fair
argument. Evans. You had better come.
Regards,
Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Marlene wasted no time. She looked at Lily and folded the parchment away. "Go grab your purse."
Lily's nod was swift. "Meet you in five."
They ended up meeting in two, such as it was, and met in the corridor leading to the ballroom.
They apparated to London, navigated through the beautifully decorated Muggle streets, weaving
through the hordes of people. The Christmas trees and pretty lights at any other time would have
rendered Lily distracted and awestruck, but right then she didn't care. Or at least, she barely did.
When they reached the place written on the parchment, the two girls looked at each other in
confusion, thinking they'd read it wrong.
It was a takeaway shop, small and cheap looking. But inside, sitting around a curved booth by the
window, were six familiar faces.
Marlene and Lily grinned at each other and walked in. Six heads turned, faces lighting up at the
two girls, and the group cheered. Frank and Alice budged up along at the end to make space. Peter
smiled at them both. Remus grinned widely. Sirius said something dumb to Marlene, and she
reached across and punched him, a toothy grin of her own spreading quickly across her face.
Lily's eyes held James, and he grinned that stupid grin at her, and he was so stupid. And dumb.
None of this stopped her heart from skipping a beat. Her own dumb grin captured her face, despite
her best efforts, and it felt like her blood was flowing faster. The others were all laughing at Sirius
for something, but she and James took no notice.
"I referred to you as James, earlier today," she told him, her voice much more level than she felt.
"What on earth prompted you to do that?"
"Your mother."
"You met my mother?"
"And your dad."
"I'm so sorry."
"Yeah."
"Did they like you?"
She grimaced. "It's hard to say."
He smiled at her, a genuine, warm smile. "She would have loved you, I reckon."
Lily matched his smile. "Why's that?"
"You're just so incredibly perfect. Of course she did."
Why did he have to say that? Why? She had just started relaxing, but now she felt the color flood
her face. She could not let him know how badly she'd fallen.
James was looking at her, his expression growing somewhat thoughtful, and his smile widened.
"Yeah," he continued. "You'll fit right in, I bet."
"What does that mean?"
"What?"
"I'll fit right in. What, with your family?"
"I- I don't know."
She was relaxing again. Composure. Calm. "Really, Potter, what did that mean?"
"Nothing."
"It sounded like something." Just keep teasing him.
"Honest, Evans, it was nothing."
"I don't know, Potter. It sounded a lot like something-"
"What's something?" asked Frank. The rest of them looked at the two.
"Nothing," said James and Lily at the same time.
She flashed him a smile, met his eyes, and promptly felt her composure slipping again. Lily sat
next to Alice quickly and put her hands in her lap.
"So," said Marlene, dropping down next to Lily, "why here, of all places? Surely not for the
ambience?"
"We found this place last year," said Sirius. "We were dead drunk, and-"
"You were fifteen last year," Lily found herself saying.
"Good work, Evans," Sirius said encouragingly. "So we were dead drunk, and stumbling about the
place, and-"
"And you found it," said Marlene shortly. "Is that where your story's going?"
"There's more build-up first," Sirius grumbled. "It gets really funny."
"I'm sure," said Alice dryly.
Sirius opened his mouth to retort, and Frank cut him off. "There's a party next week."
James perked up. "The Wasps one?" Frank nodded. "Good thinking, Longbottom!" James looked
at the rest. "The Wasps, they're a Quidditch team, Lily-"
"I know that."
"Doubt it. But they're doing this charity thing for New Year's at their stadium in Wimbourne. The
Falcons will be there, the Harpies, some Tornados players I think, too. The after-party is all
anyone's talking about."
"You reckon we can get in?" Frank asked.
James nodded. "I'll find a way."
The others chattered on about the party. They would all attend, Lily among them, of course. She
let her gaze wander as they sorted out the details. They were all squished into the booth, cosy and
happy and, well, jolly. It was everything Lily could have wanted.
A radio sat on a windowsill by the counter of the little shop. It played Have Yourself A Merry Little
Christmas, and Lily had to stop herself from singing along.
Instead she let herself enjoy the moment, watching her friends as they talked and laughed around
her. To Lily, it was the perfect moment. She wondered how many more like it they would have.
Through the years, we all will be together-
Sirius smacked James on the back of the head, Remus and Peter and Marlene sniggered and
pointed, Frank and Alice whispered to each other and laughed quietly.
If the fates allow…
Lily's gaze rested finally on James. It was strange how quickly she seemed to have changed her
mind on him. But at the same time she suspected it hadn't been quick at all. Rather, it was a
gradual feeling that she'd noticed now only because it was too big not to. Maybe she'd liked him for
a while. Maybe she always had. Some part of her, at least. The rest of her had just caught up.
James made a joke and they laughed, and he ruffled his hair and winked at Lily.
Marlene nudged her. "Seriously, I hate to go on about it," she said, "but I still don't understand why
you don't fancy him. I think you might really be missing out."
James was still looking at her.
"Hm," was all Lily could say.

Why Shouldn't We?
"Any volunteers?" the man with the clipboard had called, and by some ridiculous stroke of luck
James had been chosen. He stood there, on the bright morning of the last day of December, in the
middle of the stadium, the crowd screaming and chanting all around him, every seat taken, every
eye on him. He could barely make out the faces of his friends, sitting halfway up the stands. For a
charity event, it was being taken very, very seriously.
"Thanks for choosing me," James said, shaking the man's hand.
"I didn't really choose you. You just screamed and ran onto the grass when I asked for volunteers."
"You looked at me and pointed."
"Because you were screaming and running onto the grass. The guards wanted to stun you."
A roguish grin. "Well, I'm James. Pleased to meet you."
After a moment of looking unimpressed, the man sighed, lifted his clipboard. "Alright, kid.
Surname?"
"Potter."
The double-take. The quick once-over, shoulders straightening, forced smile rising. "That's, well,
that's excellent! This way, if you please. Let's get you ready, eh?"
Wimbourne stadium was massive. Tucked into a mountain, far away from prying Muggle eyes, it
was one of the biggest Quidditch stadiums in England. The stands rose high into the air, the open
dome sealing them all in while still allowing the sunlight to stream down, taking the edge off the
frosty winter air. The grass was dewy. Charms had been cast to prevent snow from building up. It
was due to one of professional Quidditch's many odd rules. The ground must be a hard, bone-
breaking consequence. It supposedly built character and encouraged better flying.
"Mr Potter, meet the Wimbourne Wasps!"
Before James were seven British heroes, tall and proud, good-looking and immensely talented. He
reckoned he fit right in.
"Alright, mate?" said Ludo Bagman, the Ludo Bagman, the man with his face splashed on the
front of every Witch Weekly, every sports page, plastered on the bedroom walls of every young
boy or girl who gave a toss about Quidditch.
James shook his hand, opened his mouth to say something funny, but the man with the clipboard
cut him off, his voice magnified and carrying to every corner of the stadium. "Okay, folks! Our
first lucky volunteer, Mr James Potter, will now take a crack at playing with the Wimbourne
Wasps! Do you think he'll do alright?"
The crowd's roar picked up, deafeningly loud. James couldn't tell if they were being supportive or
abusive. From the few words he could make out, it was a mixture.
"You ready, James?" asked Ludo. "We're going to run an arrowhead with you at the front. I'll pass
you the Quaffle, and you take a shot at the posts. Think you can do that?"
"Of course," said James, grinning easily and pretending his hands weren't shaking like crazy.
"You'll be shooting against me," said Emmeline Jones. "I'm the Keeper."
A few years ago, James would have fainted to have Emmeline Jones even look at him. The dreams
he had had of this woman… they were not flattering. He cleared his throat. "I know. Ma'am. Miss.
Em- Emmeline. Emmeline Jones."
Ludo sounded amused. "Great. You're the first volunteer of the day, Potter. Try to start the New
Year's Eve celebration off well for us. It's for charity, after all."
Frankly, James didn't care what it was for. He was about to play with the Wasps.
Lily didn't think playing with the Wasps was such a big deal, but everyone else in the stadium
seemed to. "I don't think playing with the Wasps is such a big deal," Lily said.
The spectators around her, friends included, gave her dirty looks.
"Lily," said Marlene, "I love you, but I think you should shut your mouth and wait for someone to
ask for your opinion."
"Marlene!"
"No, she's right, Evans," said Sirius gravely. "Shut it."
People were still glaring at her. Alice, sitting next to her, nudged her slightly. "They take this stuff
quite seriously," she whispered.
"I'm picking up on that now, yeah."
"I agree with you, personally," said Remus, on her other side. "But it's all about tact, Lily."
"Yep. Noted."
"I agree, too," said Alice quietly. "But sharing interests is a big part of friendships. Even if we don't
care about a thing, we should still care that they care about the thing."
Lily noticed that Alice's eyes drifted over to Frank, who had a pair of omnioculars over his eyes
and was jumping excitedly. She smiled slightly. "I see."
Alice saw her smile and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You still like Frank."
"Of course I still like Frank, Lily. I wasn't just going to stop."
"Well, Alice, he likes you."
Alice nodded like Lily was slow. "I already know that."
"Then… why aren't you together?"
Alice sighed. "I've been asking him the same thing for weeks. He has all sorts of dumb reasons."
"Like?"
She made a face. "Well, we were best friends for years, weren't we? Then he got with Amelia
Fawcett, I got mad, we drifted apart, I realized I like him, he broke up with Amelia, and now he's
scared. Romantic stuff has damaged our friendship. He doesn't think we should take the next step."
"He's…" Lily hesitated. "He's not wrong, is he? Those are some good reasons."
Alice looked frustrated. "I just don't see why two people who clearly like each other shouldn't be
together!"
"What if it's not up to them?" asked Lily, feeling her face start to color. "What if they're not right
for each other? They're too different, and they fight all the time?"
Alice frowned. "That doesn't really sound like me and Frank."
She liked him.
"And they finally get along, so why ruin that?"
She liked him so much.
"Frank and I have always gotten along. We were best friends, Lily, weren't you listening?"
She hadn't done anything about it, though. Why not? "Not when you were fighting. You didn't get
along then." That's why.
"Whose side are you on?"
"What if you do get together, and then you break up and it's never the same again?" That's why.
These thoughts, having recently occurred to her, festering in her mind over the last few days,
sprang from her mouth without control.
Alice looked incredulous. "Merlin, have you and Frank been talking about this?"
"No, of course not. I'm only saying, Alice," Lily said carefully, not even looking at her friend, "just
because two people like each other, it doesn't mean they have to be together. If you like something,
I mean really, really like something, wouldn't it be best to just leave it be? I mean, it would be so
easy to ruin that thing. And you like it so much so… what if it's best to just stay away?"
"Lily, you were the one you was pestering me just now, saying that Frank and I should be together
because we like each other!"
"I still think you should be together," said Lily quickly.
Alice rubbed her eyes. "Then what are you trying to say?"
"Just that," Lily bit her lip, "in some situations, people just shouldn't be together. That it wouldn't
work."
Alice looked at her expectantly. "But...?"
"But," said Lily, "you and Frank are not those people. You're absolutely good together. Some
people aren't, that's all. So I was arguing your point. About people liking each other. For
argument's sake."
"Oh," said Alice, letting out a laugh. "We're arguing about nothing, then."
"Yes." Lily looked out at the flying figures in the sky with pursed lips, but not really seeing them.
"Absolutely nothing."
They were quiet for a few seconds. Eventually, a cheer went up all around them. "James just
scored," said Remus awkwardly.
Lily nodded, spotting the messy haired figure in the sky and forcing herself to find interest in the
sport. "Fantastic."
After scoring, James landed on the ground and hoisted his broomstick in the air, lent to him by the
man with the clipboard. It was the latest, most expensive broomstick on the market, and it had been
amazing to fly with. He handed it back to the clipboard man with great reluctance.
While the clipboard man was calling to the audience for the next volunteer to keep the show going,
Ludo landed beside James and clapped his shoulder. "You've got moves, Potter. What year are
you?"
"Sixth."
"Hm. The scouts we send to Hogwarts are usually only looking for Seventh Years. I reckon I can
put a word in, though - see if we can't steal you away. What do you think?"
James wasn't keen on the idea of leaving Hogwarts before Seventh Year for Quidditch, but he
didn't articulate that. "Maybe. Thanks."
Ludo grinned, made to lift back off the ground. "Don't mention it."
Before the sports star could fly off, James cleared his throat and spoke fast. "Hey. Do you reckon
you can do me another favor?"
"Other than a Quidditch career on a silver platter? Sure, Potter. What is it?"
James didn't bother looking abashed. "I hear there's a party tonight, here in Wimbourne. To ring in
the new year."
"Yeah?" Ludo sounded amused. "What about it?"
"Well, it's all anyone's talking about. I heard it'll be the who's who of parties. Everyone worth
mentioning will be there."
"Yes, they will," said Ludo. "And a lot of people have already tried talking to me about it. Let me
guess. You want me to let you, a seventeen year old boy-"
"Sixteen."
"-into a party full of the rich and famous, and alcohol and other adult things that you shouldn't be
near, for which invitations are extremely sought after? You want me to let you in there?"
"And my friends," said James.
"How many friends?"
"Seven."
"You and your seven friends."
"Yep."
Ludo sighed. "And why should I do that?"
James grinned. "Because I know people. Have you heard of Caradoc Dearborn and Anton
Windstrum?"
"The auror and the teacher? Sure, Windstrum was a big deal in the Ministry a few years ago, but
they're hardly notable now."
"Yes, but they're good friends with Sawyer Hughes. I'm sure you've heard whispers that he'll be our
next Minister of Magic."
Ludo nodded, looking interested now. "Of course."
"Well, I can reach him, through them . So after all this Quidditch business is over and you retire,
should you want a Ministry job, I'm a good person to know."
Ludo's eyes narrowed. "How do you know I'd like a Ministry job after retirement?"
"You said so in a Witch Weekly interview," James said quickly, his ears reddening. "So, what do
you say?"
Ludo looked at him for a while. "You really reckon you could reach Sawyer Hughes? And he
would listen to you?"
"Definitely."
"Of course you'd say that, though."
"Well, yeah. I'm not going to say no, am I?"
"But you're telling the truth? You're really in with the future Minister of Magic?"
James nodded.
Ludo looked torn. "I shouldn't, Potter."
"Go on."
"There is every reason not to."
"But what is your heart telling you?"
"Not to."
"Oh."
After another few seconds, Ludo sighed and scratched his head. "Fine. Damn it, fine. Talk to me in
a couple hours. I'll get you in."
James beamed and nodded. "Yes! Thank you, Ludo."
"Go tell your seven stupid friends," Ludo mumbled, kicking off the ground and flying over to the
man with the clipboard.
James clapped his hands together and set off to do just that.
At eight'o'clock, the group of teens stood on a beach, cold and confused and staring at the side of a
cliff. Its peak loomed high above them, indiscernible in the darkness, but they could make out the
rough and jagged surface of the cliff's face before them.
"This is the place?" Frank asked James.
"This is the place," James confirmed.
Frank frowned at the wall of rock, looked hard at it, but it didn't spontaneously turn into the
raucous party in a mansion they had been promised. "Well it doesn't look like the place."
James walked forward and placed his palm against the rock. He pushed. Nothing happened. He
pushed again. "Bugger."
"What?"
"I thought it would be like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where the wall is invisible and we
just walk through."
"You don't know how to get inside?"
"Ludo didn't tell me that part, okay?"
"Then what did he tell you?" asked Marlene.
"He told me I have good moves," said James.
"Quidditch moves?"
"Yes."
The other seven groaned and started walking away. Frank shook his head at the boy and shoved his
cold hands in his pockets.
"Wait!" They paused, turned cautiously. "I think I've found it!" Slowly, the group walked back and
peered at the wall, where James was poking his wand into one of the crevices. He wiggled it a bit
and closed his eyes, and a section of the rock wall in front of them slid open cleanly, like a sliding
French door. On the other side was a cavern, with torches hung on brackets sitting on its stone
walls. And the cavern was filled with people. Perhaps forty young witches and wizards lined up,
dressed in their best dresses and robes and dress robes, and shouting and pleading towards
someone deeper in the cavern.
The eight teens glanced at one another, James spared a moment to look at them all smugly, and
they walked into the cavern. James didn't even seem to consider waiting at the back of the line, as
he strutted through the cavern and past all the waiting hopefuls with the same easy confidence and
puffed up chest that he'd walked through the corridors of Hogwarts with for the last six years. He'd
toned it down in recent months, but for this walk he'd clearly chosen to tone it all the way up.
Frank certainly couldn't fault his conviction.
At the far end of the cavern, standing in front of a concave wall with a wooden door built into it,
was a heavy-set man wearing glasses and holding a long roll of parchment that trailed down to
skim the ground. He didn't seem impressed that the group had skipped the line, and held up a
meaty hand to stop them before they even reached him.
"We're on the list," said James confidently. "Look under Ludo Bagman."
The man looked at James for a few long seconds, before slowly checking the list. "Names?" They
told him their names and he nodded and looked back up at James.
"You're on the list. But you all look a little young to come in here."
James nodded. "That's really nice of you to say. Can we come in now?"
"I need to ask for some identification, I'm afraid."
"Do wizards even have identification?" Lily whispered.
"I do," said Frank, stepping forward and pulling his apparition license from his pocket. "Here you
go."
The man glanced at it and nodded. "And the rest of you?"
"It's alright," Frank said with an easy smile. "They're with me."
"Saying they're with you is not going to get them in," the man said.
The wooden door in the rock wall opened up behind him, and Ludo Bagman poked his head out.
"There you are, Potter." He looked at the man. "It's alright, they're with me."
Exhaling heavily through his nose, the man stepped aside, looking pained. Ludo ushered them all
in. Sirius nodded to him eagerly, and Marlene was red-faced and not meeting his eyes. But Frank
wasn't the type to get starstruck. He kept himself level-headed and calm.
"I love you," he blurted.
Ludo hesitated and opened his mouth.
"I've loved you since the World Cup in seventy-four. I have posters of you on all the walls in my
room back home, I used to cut out all the headlines from the newspapers every time you won a
game, I-"
"Alright, Longbottom," said Alice, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him on. "This is sad."
Torn between agreeing with her and wanting to turn back to bow at Ludo's feet, Frank eventually
nodded and mumbled, "Okay."
There was no shortage of other things to look at. The teens had walked into the high-ceilinged
entrance hall of a mansion. It had to be a mansion. Frank had grown up in a Pure-blood household,
he had seen Potter Manor, and Prewett Place, had even glimpsed the legendary Selwyns' residence
and Malfoy Manor, but still he found himself taken aback by the decadence on display before him.
The floors gleamed like they were sweating, the walls rich with magical artefacts worthy of
museums and moving paintings so vivid and obscure and stupid that they had to be worth millions
of Galleons. The chandelures were shiny, and so sharp, so filled with precious gems, that if they
were to fall they could be re-used to fight wars with dragons and giants.
Juxtaposed with the elegance and class of the place, countless rowdy witches and wizards crowded
the large hall, spilling their drinks, laughing, knocking over priceless items on pedestals, staining
the walls, and throwing a true and proper party for the ages.
"Wicked," Frank murmured.
There was Celestina Warbeck, giggling away as she ran at the top of the stairs, dragging along a
handsome man wearing a hastily unbuttoned shirt and a silly smile by the hand. They were heading
for one of the many arched doorways leading to some other glamorous part of the manor, and
Frank could only guess what they intended to get up to.
Emmeline Jones, Keeper for the Wasps, was playing a game of drinking mini-Quidditch with some
of her teammates, a favorite party past-time albeit a terribly complex one. The lead singer of the
Fortuna Majors was leaning against a pillar, green-faced. Sports stars and politicians, war-time
heroes from the Grindelwald era and famous musicians streamed in and out of the hall, running
through the doorways or chatting amiably to one another, and Frank could only stare in wonder.
"This," said Alice quietly, "is unreal."
"Yeah," said Frank, his voice vacant. "Overwhelming to say the least. Should we even be here?"
Alice looked at him and took his hand. "No." So she led him right into the thick of things, not
caring, walking past the most famous faces in the world without even looking twice.
She had changed so much, and he had put this off for so long. Frank found all his thoughts, all his
feelings for the girl come surging to the forefront of his mind, and he couldn't wait any longer to
say what he reckoned he should have long since said.
He tugged her hand. "Alice."
She stopped, looked at him and smiled. "Yeah?"
"I…" So familliar, so beautiful. So important to him. "I really care about you."
She reached out and took his other hand. "I really care about you, too, Frank."
He nodded, hesitated, and-
"Party," yelled Marlene, coming from behind them and grabbing them both by the shoulders.
"Party," Sirius concurred with glee, running ahead of them towards Emmeline Jones and the
drinking mini-Quidditch table.
Frank could only spare Alice what he hoped was a smile that somehow told her what he was
thinking, before they reached the table and the professional Quidditch players turned to look at the
four teens.
"Rules," Emmeline said loudly, her voice slurring slightly as she surveyed them piously. "You
must down your drinks before sitting at the table!"
"Uh," said Alice, "we don't have any drinks."
She blinked, and turned to look at the top of the stairs, where the drummer from the Brazen
Hinkypunks was chatting to a lady in an elegant dress. "Get these kids some damn drinks!" The
man looked down at the group in surprise and frowned slightly. "Yes, I'm talking to you, Vincent!
Cece's not interested, stop flirting and go get us some drinks!" She looked back at the teens and
smiled warmly. "Won't be a minute, loves. What are your names?"
"My name's James," James said loudly, and all those at the drinks table down the corridor from the
entrance hall cheered and clapped him on the back.
"James," roared a wizard with a pointy black hat on his head.
"James," chorused the rest of them.
"Go on, James, drink with us!"
He pretended to think about it, then beamed. "Alright. I'm going to drink with you!"
They all paused and looked at each other, then they cheered again, louder, and raised their drinks,
spilling froth on the floor.
"Try this one, James," said Barnaby Walsh, Beater for the Tornados, sliding a fat glass of dark
brown liquid across the table to him.
James sniffed it. "What in the world is this?"
"Whiskey!"
"Just… whiskey? Not firewhisky?"
Lily was by his side, leaning against the table and looking amused. "It's a Muggle drink, Potter.
Different from firewhisky."
He peered down at it. "Just whiskey, huh? Does it taste nice?"
She shrugged. "Depends who you ask."
"I'm asking you."
Lily grinned and shook her head. "It's awful."
James loved seeing her grin. She grinned at him quite often these days, and James dreaded the day
it stopped having this effect on him. He very much doubted that day would ever come, though.
"So are you going to drink it?" she asked.
"Yeah," called Barnaby Walsh,"go on, James!"
Without letting his eyes leave Lily's, James lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in one. He
shuddered. "That's awful!" The rest of them cheered. James nodded to Lily. "Go on, Evans. What
about you?"
Reluctantly, she smiled and indicated to Barnaby. A glass full of whiskey slid over to her, and she
lifted it, looking James hard in the eyes now.
"Wait," said Barnaby urgently, "what's your name?"
"Lily," she said.
James grinned, and joined the rest of them in what he knew was coming. "Lily," they all yelled,
raising their glasses and spilling their drinks.
Some short hours later, James dazedly found himself in a large room down one of the many lined
corridors of the mansion. He stood at one end of a long table, and all those crowding the walls of
the room cheered and watched eagerly. At the other end of the table stood a man called Clarke, a
columnist for the Daily Prophet. Resting on James' end of the table, right in front of him, was his
wand. At Clarke's end was a glass full of Heidelberg mead.
Ludo Bagman stood by the middle of the table, swaying and unsteady. "Three. Two…"
They waited.
"Two."
James frowned, looked at Ludo.
"Three."
James and Clarke sighed, the tension leaving them as they-
"One!"
James snatched his wand up as Clarke grabbed the glass and lifted it and- "Expelliarmus!"
The glass flew through the air, James caught it, and downed the mead in one big gulp. He slammed
the glass down on the table.
The room erupted.
"That's the fourth one in a row," Sirius yelled from behind him, ruffling James' hair.
"One," repeated Ludo, stumbling a little and waiting for something to happen.
"You're on fire, Prongs," said Remus, grinning, a little red in the face.
"That's our James," warbled Peter.
Emmeline Jones gave him a thumbs up from across the room, and James almost fainted.
"I'll handle him," said a tall man, unshaven and long-haired. He was an auror, from what James
knew. Phillip, or something of the sort.
James grinned at the challenge. "You're on, mate."
The crowd around the room called out approvingly at the continued entertainment, placing their
bets in the currency of voices. James put his wand on the table again, and a full glass was placed in
front of Phillip.
Barnaby replaced Ludo, who was talking to the wall.
"Three. Two… One!"
James grabbed his wand. "Expelliarmus!"
The glass soared through the air and he caught it, looked at it triumphantly. It was empty.
Phillip smacked his lips. "That's good mead." The crowd roared, beside themselves at the upset.
People clapped and patted Phillip's back, while James glared at the auror and folded his arms.
Phillip looked over at him. "Alright, Potter. It's your turn now."
With his eyes narrowed, James pocketed his wand and Phillip rested his own wand in front of him.
A glass of mead appeared in front of James.
"Three," said Barnaby. "Two… One!"
Just as soon as James could lift his glass, it was plucked front his hands and caught by Phillip. The
crowd went wild again. James didn't bother watching them congratulate the auror, sighing in
frustration and turning to his friends instead. The crowd was done with him.
"Tough luck, Prongs," said Sirius, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"Yeah," said James. "But I don't even care-"
"Hold that thought, mate," Sirius said, looking off to the side with a quickly. "I think McKinnon
wants to talk."
James watched with a frown as his friend joined Marlene at one of the small tables lining the walls.
He turned to Remus and Peter to see what they made of that, but they both only smiled
sympathetically at him.
"It's okay, James," said Remus, nodding and rubbing his back. "It's going to be okay."
James slapped his hand away. "Why are you so nurturing when you're drunk?"
"There, there, James," said Peter, offering him a simpering smile.
James groaned and left the two of them, making his way to a small table with a spare seat. It was
no coincidence that the table's only other occupant had rabid red hair.
"What's wrong, Potter?" asked Lily. "Did you realize you're not actually the best at everything?"
He smiled appreciatively at her. "Yeah."
She smiled back. James looked away, back at Sirius and Marlene. "Hey, do you reckon there's
something going on between those two?"
She turned. "Who, Black and Mar?" She shook her head and laughed. "No."
"But-"
"Trust me. There is nothing."
"Evans," James insisted, "they sure seem to act like there's something going on. Look at them!"
Sirius and Marlene were both leaning in over their table, and making rather strong eye contact in
James' opinion.
Lily shook her head again. "Potter, believe me, even if those two liked each other, nothing would
ever happen."
"Why not?"
"Sometimes people liking each other just isn't enough."

"You don't think Sirius is good enough for her or something?"
"That's not it."
"Then what?"
She grimaced. "I can't tell you. Sorry."
"Evans," James said, feeling frustrated, "why shouldn't two people who like each other be
together?" His words brought a small smile to her lips, which only frustrated him more. "What?"
"Nothing," she said, shaking her head once again.
James sighed and leaned back in his seat. Phillip was playing against someone else now. The game
was fondly referred to as Quickdraw, and was rarely played at Hogwarts, due mostly to the
school's strict policy regarding the use of spells on other students. James, of course, cared very little
for the rules, but finding a willing partner that wasn't Sirius, Remus, or Peter often proved far more
difficult. Phillip won again, and his next opponent stepped up soon after. Again and again Phillip
won, and James felt a scowl capture his face, deepening with each win. He really was a very sore
loser, he'd be the first to admit it.
"Potter."
James turned to see Craig Bunnings, a member of the Wasps' coaching staff, beckoning him over.
He hesitated, glanced at Lily quickly, before getting up and approaching the man, who nodded to
him.
"How do you do, Potter?"
"Great-"
"Great. Now, Ludo was talking to me earlier. Before he… lost his focus. He reckons you've got
talent."
James nodded. "I do."
"Good. Ever thought about playing professionally?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. You've made quite an impression on the team, and we'd love to have a chat with you about
a variety of things. This isn't an offer, by the way. We will still have to scout you, check out your
games at Hogwarts. But if you're good enough, we can steal you away as early as next season."
James stared. He was good enough. He had no doubt about that. And yet… "I don't know, sir. I
want to finish my education."
Craig surveyed him for a few seconds, before shrugging. "We'll talk regardless, eh? We're not
desperate to have you, make no mistake. But finding and cultivating talent is my passion, and I've
got a good feeling about you. I can't guarantee this offer will still be on the table by the end of your
Seventh Year, but... we'll discuss that later." With a curt nod, he strode off.
James watched with wide eyes as he left. Bad decision? Perhaps. But he was sure it was the right
one. He wasn't ready to leave Hogwarts. With a sigh, James left the room, thinking hard. Was
Quidditch really even all he wanted to do with his life after Hogwarts? Was it significant enough,
would it satisfy him enough? James wasn't sure.
He emerged into the corridor, saw movement to his left, and turned. Then he stared, jaw dropping.
Sirius and Marlene were wrapped around each other, wrestling on the spot, snogging furiously.
James grinned and clapped his hands, and they paused and looked at him. "I knew it! I knew you
guys-"
"Prongs," said Sirius, in a husky voice that James never wanted to hear again, "bugger off."
Marlene's expression said the same.
After a moment, James nodded and turned on his heel. Still smiling to himself smugly he walked
the other way, quite pleased. He had absolutely predicted it. Sirius liked Marlene, and Marlene
liked Sirius. Lily was wrong.
His thoughts clouded at that. Something about the way she had phrased her words… James had
thought, had dared to allow himself to think, with all the changes in his relationship with Lily, that
maybe the time was right. Maybe he should finally jump in the deep end, put everything on the
line. Because he was sure she liked him. And if she did, why shouldn't they be together? Surely, he
was reading all the signs right. He had to be.
As he walked, footsteps approached from behind him. Witches and wizards started overtaking him
through the corridors, hurrying past excitedly. When he spotted Frank and Alice passing him, he
stopped them. "What's happening?"
"We're all heading out to the beach," said Alice, grinning from ear to ear. "There's going to be a
show!"
"Come on, James," said Frank, draping an arm around Alice's shoulders without seeming to even
think about it. Alice looked at him in surprise and her grin widened further still. "You'll miss it at
this rate!"
The two set off ahead of him, leaving James to trundle along after everyone hurrying out to catch
the new year. When he reached the entrance someone tapped him on the shoulder, and James
turned to see Sirius and Marlene, arms round each other's waists, dilated pupils, ruffled hair and
slightly unbuttoned and loose clothing, panting in front him.
"We're off, mate," said Sirius, looking very, very pleased with himself.
"You're not staying until midnight? It's not far off."
"Nah, we have urgent things to do." Marlene sniggered and Sirius nudged her. "So, happy new year
and all that. I'll be back home tomorrow, I reckon. I don't know."
James smirked. "Right. Well, happy new year to you, too. And look after him, McKinnon!"
Marlene saluted, and then broke into a fit of giggles. Sirius giggled alongside her. Oh, they were
quite drunk.
The two left, and James stood in the entrance hall as everyone rushed around him, feeling very
sober, and unusually lonely.
"Chin up, Potter. Haven't you heard it's a party?"
He turned, and Lily was there. Suddenly, he felt tired of playing games. "Do you like me, Evans?"
She stared. Opened her mouth and made no noise.
"I need to know. Do you like me?"
"Potter…"
"It's a simple question."
She shook her head. "It's not a simple question. It's more complicated than that."
"What's complicated, Evans?"
"People, Potter! People are complicated. They fight, and they hate, and they hold grudges over the
silliest things! They're proud and they're arrogant, or they're prissy and misjudging!"
James frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"
She stomped her foot in frustration. "Everything. Good things are ruined because people are dumb.
Things that are really, really good. Really. Do you understand what I'm saying, Potter?"
He hesitated. "I think so. I think I get your point. But what stands out more to me is what
you haven't said. I asked you a question, Evans, and though I tentatively think you've tried to
answer it, you seem to be refusing to say tell me outright. Evans, do you like me?"
Why wouldn't she just say it? She looked torn, incredibly torn as she held off responding for as
long as she could, and then she looked sad. "I can't answer that, Potter. I won't ruin- I won't answer
it. I can't let myself."
He nodded. He didn't allow himself to be swallowed by the raw feelings that threatened to envelop
him. "Okay," he said. He turned and followed the crowd outside. Idiot. When he emerged onto the
beach, there were already hundreds of people there, not all of them celebrities. Stupid idiot.
Someone was doing a dance performance in front of a bonfire and everyone clapped when it
finished. Bubbles flew into the air, impossibly large bubbles the size of wrecking balls, changing
color as they drifted higher and eventually popping softly, sending down the tiniest of colored
droplets that faded into nothingness when they reached the ground. Everyone ooh'd. Stupid
bleeding idiot. The background singers of the Brazen Hinkypunks sang a song about having a good
party. Everyone cheered. Before long, the countdown was upon them.
"Ten!"
Grins all around, people finding those they cared for most in the crowd.
"Nine!"
James sighed and looked around disinterestedly as Eight, Seven and Six were chanted out.
At Five, he spotted Lily. They made eye contact, and he looked away, stared instead at the bonfire.
Stupid idiot.
"Four!"
He was regretting coming to this party, around then. Regretting the whole day. It was dumb.
"Three!"
Everyone had coupled off by that point. Almost everyone, James corrected with a snort.
"Two!"
He shoved his hands in his pockets. And things had all been going so promisingly.
"One!"
Ah, well.
"Happy New Year!"
Fireworks went off, loud, vibrant things that James barely glanced at. Frank and Alice kissed,
finally, wrapped up in each other's arms and holding on like they intended to never let go, and
James spared a moment to at least be happy for them. He turned, walked past Ludo Bagman and
Emmeline Jones snogging like teenagers, past countless famous couples who would no doubt be in
the papers the next morning, and strolled back into the mansion.
There were a few people still inside. Many of them were kissing. He smiled, nodded at those who
weren't, wishing them a happy new year. He could have done with a bit of happy, he reckoned.
So he sought happy out at the drinks table, for where else could it be hiding? Unsurprisingly, he
was not the only one who seemed to have had this idea. He nodded to the other poor sods, and
poured himself a glass of the 'just whiskey'. A man appeared right next to him, far too close,
despite all the room around the table. James tried to ignore him, but the man was humming to
himself and staring at the ceiling, not at all seeming to want to pour himself a drink. James looked
at him. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, had a long beard, glasses, and a large, round nose.
"Hello, James," he said, and James' eyes widened.
"Caradoc? Caradoc Dearborn, is that you?"
"Quietly, boy, are you crazy?" He turned, peered side to side from under his hat, and looked back
at James. "But yes, it is I. Caradoc Dearborn, in disg-"
"You look dumb."
Caradoc glared. "I am in disguise!"
"You should have chosen a less dumb-looking disguise."
"It is not dumb."
"That is the fakest face I've seen in my life."
"Stop insulting my disguise," he hissed. He looked side to side again. "I'm here undercover."
"Right."
"You might be thinking to yourself, why is Caradoc always undercover?"
"I'm not."
"Undercover as an auror, undercover as a Death Eater, you must be wondering how I manage to do
it all!"
"I'm really not."

"And it's tough, James," said Caradoc, nodding somberly. "It's a really taxing lifestyle. But do you
know what my goal is when I get out of bed each morning?"
"Caradoc, why are you here?"
"To save lives!" Caradoc grinned widely. "That was clever, you see, because it works on both
fronts." James said nothing. "It answers your question, and it answered my one." Still nothing.
Caradoc sighed. "Alright, fine. Morgan Bulstrode, Eugenia Jenkins' number two and the temporary
Minister of Magic, is here at this party. I'm sure it has been relayed to you that he is a Death Eater
affiliate. He's formed an alliance with the Head of the Auror Department, who is technically my
boss, Emmett Fawley. Now pay attention, James, because this is where it gets complicated."
"I'm pretty sure I know all this already."
"Pay attention, please. A man called Blithe has been feeding Ministry information to the Death
Eaters for months, and we suspect he is none other than Emmett Fawley."
"Yeah, I think Frank told me."
"Please, James, I'll answer your questions at the end. Now, Fawley and Bulstrode were both
running for Minister, to be the real Minister, not just acting Minister. But when Sawyer Hughes, a
great man who-"
"I met him. On Christmas Eve, last week."
"Excuse me, James. A great man who every sane person respects, started running for Minister,
Bulstrode and Fawley were both instantly outvoted, and so they pooled their votes together, further
validating the theory that Fawley is not on our side. Now it is only a matter of time before Sawyer
does beat them out and takes the top job, but we want to quicken that process as much as possible.
Opportunities to corner Bulstrode are rare, and we might not get a better opportunity to get
evidence on Fawley. So I have taken it upon myself to go to… unofficial lengths for a confession.
All I need is an accomplice. Are you in?"
James fixed him with a look. "You could have literally asked me that from the start, and I would
have said yes. This entire conversation has been unnecessary."
Caradoc beamed. "Look at that. We have some team banter already." He turned and started
walking, and James followed a step behind.
"How do you even know Bulstrode's here?"
"I've been following him since Christmas."
James made a face. "You've spent your break stalking a politician?"
"Justice never takes breaks, my dear boy."
"And why do you have to wear a disguise?"
"Because I'm about to threaten the acting Minister of Magic with violence, and that's not good for
your health."
James nodded. "Right." They passed through a number of corridors. Caradoc walked swiftly and
purposefully, his wand out, and James pulled his own wand from his pocket. "So what do you need
me to do?"
Caradoc stopped by an open door suddenly, and James bumped into him. Caradoc peered in, James
followed suit. It was a small, dark room, and inside was Morgan Bulstrode, pacing back and forth.
"Guard the door," Caradoc whispered.
He rushed into the room, slammed the door shut behind him, and James heard yelling and crashing
furniture and more yelling. James hastily put his back to the door and looked left and right. The
corridor was empty. He held his wand aloft and listened.
"Who are you?" cried a voice, strained and alarmed.
"I'll ask the questions," roared Caradoc. There was another crash, and the voice cried out again.
"Someone will hear this," the voice yelled in pain. "Someone will come in here and stop you, and I
promise that you will never see the light of day again!"
"Nonsense," said Caradoc. "I have my best fighter outside, guarding that door. I assure you, we
will not be interrupted."
James' throat dried. From around the corner, he heard footsteps. He clutched his wand tighter, held
it up. Licked his lips.
Lily turned the corner. James groaned internally, and she smiled unsurely as she approached.
"There you are, Potter. Have you seen Marlene?"
James smiled back tightly. "She and Sirius took off not too long ago."
"Together?"
"Yep."
She reached him and winced. "No. Oh, she's going to regret that in the morning."
Despite himself, James scowled. "Why? What's there to regret?"
"I can't tell you, alright? I can just guarantee that she's really going to regret it."
James made to respond derisively, but a thud came from inside the room and he straightened.
"Look, now's not a good time for this, Evans," he said, trying to keep his voice from sounding
suspicious. Even after all these years, he still didn't know how to do that.
There was another cry of pain from inside.
"Answer me," Caradoc yelled.
Lily stared. "Potter, who's in there?"
He hesitated. "No one."
"Please," cried the voice. "Stop!"
The sound of a punch, hard. "Shut up, filth!"
Lily made to grab the door handle and James caught her arm. "Evans…"
"Let go of me, Potter."

"I can't let you in."
"I said let go."
"Promise me you won't try to open the door again."
"I promise to put you in St Mungo's if you don't let go right now."
"Evans, come on-"
"I'm dead serious, Potter, I will put you in the hospital."
He quickly let go. "Okay. Just don't open th-"
She opened the door. Saw Morgan Bulstrode bent backwards over a table, Caradoc holding him by
the collar with his wand to his throat. The two men paused and looked over.
"Greetings," said Caradoc cordially.
"Help me," said Bulstrode frantically, trying to push Caradoc's wand from his neck. "I am your
Minister of Magic-"
"Temporarily," said Caradoc, keeping his wand at his throat.
"-please, this man is attacking me! Help!"
Lily looked at James, speechless.
"There is a fantastic explanation for all this," James told her.
"I'm not explaining it all again," said Caradoc. "You didn't appreciate it the first time."
Upon hearing his voice, Lily peered at him. "Caradoc?"
Caradoc shook his head. "Nope."
Bulstrode peered at him now, too. "The auror? Caradoc Dearborn?"
"I am Caradoc Periwinkle. I am asked that all the time, though. It is a common mix-up."
Lily looked at James with a raised eyebrow. James nodded.
"Oh," said Bulstrode. "My mistake."
"Not to worry," said Caradoc.
They were all quiet for a few seconds.
"Can one of you please close the door?" Caradoc asked the teens politely. James closed it behind
them, and the room went got darker. "Thank you."
Caradoc lifted Bulstrode and slammed him back onto the table. "Who is Blithe?" he yelled.
"Who the bleeding hell is Blithe?" Bulstrode spluttered.
Caradoc shook him. "Don't get smart with me, Bulstrode!"

"No," said Bulstrode, "I mean I really don't know who this Blithe is! I've never heard that name
before, I swear!"
Caradoc paused. "Oh." He stepped back. "Lumos." His wand lit up the room, and James could see
them all clearly now. Bulstrode got off the table slowly, straightening his collar. "Get back on that
table," said Caradoc quietly.
Bulstrode immediately got back down, trying to get into the same uncomfortable position. "Like
this?"
"It was more at an angle."
The Minister shifted. "This?"
"Perfect. Stay like that."
Lily cleared her throat.
Caradoc looked at the teens. "This simplifies things, I suppose. I just have a few more questions for
him. Is anyone watching the door?"
"No."
Caradoc scratched his head. "Alright. I'll make this quick then, I suppose." He pointed his wand at
Bulstrode again, the shadows in the room shifting as the only light source was moved. "How
involved is Emmett Fawley with the Death Eaters?"
Busltrode's eyes bugged. "Emmett Fawley is a Death Eater?"
"You didn't know? Then why did you ally yourself with him? Why did the two of you pool your
votes together?"
"He approached me," said Bulstrode. "I was surprised, too. As far as I knew, he hated me, and all
those I associate with."
"Death Eaters."
"Traditionalists."
Caradoc snorted. "Keep your facade up, if you really must. But why did he approach you?"
"Fawley wants to be Minister, and even though he loathes me and my associates, or at least I
thought he did before today, he will go to any lengths to get the job. Even if it means collaborating
with me. Our relationship is anything but friendly, I assure you, although if I had known that he is
one of us-"
"One of you?"
Bulstrode froze.
"Morgan," said Caradoc, smiling widely, "you are the Minister of Magic."
"Temporary Minister of Magic," Bulstrode whispered.
"Did you just confess to being a Death Eater?"

"No."
"I think I have sufficient grounds to arrest you, here and now."
"You aren't an auror," said Bulstrode, licking his lips.
Caradoc's grin widened. "You are going to tell me everything, and I do mean everything, or you
can kiss your political career goodbye."
"You have no proof of anything. I said something silly, so what? I can't be convicted for that!"
"Perhaps not," said Caradoc. "But we can try. And when we do try, who will be temporary
Minister in your place? If Dumbledore calls for a vote while you are being convicted, who will be
able to stop Sawyer Hughes from finally becoming our real Minister? Fawley?"
Bulstrode suddenly broke into a smile, the first smile James had seen from him that night. "That is
your plan? To keep me detained? Well, why didn't you just say so? I would have told you not to
waste your time. Our meeting is at an end, I'm afraid."
Caradoc pushed the glowing tip of his wand into the flesh of Bulstrode's throat, and the room
darkened while Bulstrode's throat glowed from within. "If you try to apparate from here, you will
regret it. Trust me."
"You misunderstand me, Mr Periwinkle. I'm not going to apparate. I am the Minister of Magic -
apparition is below me."
"Temporary Minister of Magic," said Caradoc, narrowing his eyes.
Bulstrode's smile grew. "I came to this party simply to show face, appear in a few pictures for the
morning's paper. I am the people's Minister, after all. These things are important. But I am also a
very busy man, and I have a very important meeting to attend quite soon. You will not be able to
stop me, Mr Periwinkle."
Caradoc turned to Lily and James, as serious as James had seen him. "He has a portkey somewhere
in this room. Find it."
James blinked and nodded, and he and Lily set about immediately, scanning the ground, the walls,
for anything that could be a portkey. Caradoc lifted his wand from Bulstrode's neck, leaving an
angry mark on the skin, and held it up, illuminating the room once more.
"It could be anything," said Lily, throwing aside a quill. "How will we even know when we find
it?"
"There will be a special quality to it," said Caradoc, scanning the ground himself. "It will be close
by to Bulstrode, too. Within easy reach."
Bulstrode was chuckling. "Time has run out for you, I'm afraid. I'm about to leave."
Lily looked up at him. "Caradoc," she said, "if the portkey is small, small enough to fit in his
pocket, let's say, would he still have to touch it? Or would that be enough for him to be transported
away?"
Caradoc looked at her for a few moments, his brow furrowed, and then he gazed at Bulstrode, who
had stopped chuckling. "Grab him," he said.
The three lunged towards Bulstrode, the teens grabbing his arms while Caradoc grabbed him by
the collar again, and Bulstrode struggled to break free. "Get off me! Get- off-"
"Will just holding him do the trick?" James asked hurriedly. "We're not touching the portkey."
"It should be enough," said Caradoc, tightening his hold on Bulstrode's collar enough to make the
man gag.
And it was.
Suddenly, James felt a pull at his navel, and he felt his insides yanked as though caught by a fishing
rod, and he shut his eyes tight, feeling his body flying through space, and his feet hit the ground
hard and there was noise all around him and the yanking stopped, though his stomach still ached.
He opened his eyes. The four of them were in the middle of a city, with flashing lights pushing the
darkness of the night off the streets, keeping it at bay to the twinkling stars above. Loud music
played wherever James turned his head, and raucous, olive-skinned people were all around them.
The writing on every shop and sign in the crowded city square were in a language James couldn't
understand. Spanish?
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Portugal," said Bulstrode miserably. "I've gone and brought you with me to Portugal."
"It's your own fault," said Caradoc, looking around at their surroundings with interest. "If you had
just shut up, we wouldn't even know about your portkey."
Bulstrode hung his head.
Caradoc's gaze settled on a spot further on and he set off, dragging Bulstrode along behind him.
James and Lily followed. They reached one of the many bars lining the area, packed full of merry
drinkers singing and prattling away to each other. One of the tables outside was empty, and
Caradoc pushed Bulstrode down into a seat. He sat on the other side, and James and Lily joined
him.
"So, Morgan, the way I see it you have very little choice now. You will give us all the information
we need, sell out all your little Death Eater friends, or I make you an appointment with some
Dementors and see where that gets us. Your political career will be the last of your concerns. What
will it be?"
"I'll tell you everything," Bulstrode said immediately. "Whatever you want to know. I can even be
a spy for you, among the Death Eaters. Because I am a Death Eater, you're right. Let's get out of
here first, though."
Caradoc waved a hand. "We don't need a spy, believe me. And it's not as fun as it sounds.. No, we
have plenty of information already. Something tells me, though, that you know some things that
even I don't. Especially considering how trusted you are in these circles."
"I'll brief you on everything, I swear," Bulstrode said. "But we need to go right now. I'm telling
you, if I'm going to help you guys then I can't be here."
"Too late, I'm afraid," came a deep and smooth voice from behind Bulstrode. A man approached.
He had dark skin, and wore aviator sunglasses and a velvet tuxedo. Caradoc stiffened beside
James. Bulstrode's face slackened, and he looked down at the table with the eyes of a dead man.
The newcomer placed his hands on Bulstrode's shoulders and surveyed Caradoc and the teens. "My
employer will be very interested to hear about this, you see. So we must be leaving."
"You are not leaving here with that man," Caradoc said quietly.
A frown. "I'm sorry, have we met before? Your voice is familiar."
Caradoc said nothing.
"I'm assuming I've tried to kill you at some point. When was that, I wonder? Was it recent?"
Caradoc still said nothing.
"It must have been recent. You seem worried, my friend. Worried that I'll recognize you under that
disguise? Because it clearly is a disguise."
James took his wand from his pocket, rested its tip on the table casually but obviously. "We won't
let you take Bulstrode."
The man surveyed him, amused. "You're going to stop me, are you? Look around, boy. Are you
prepared to turn this street into a battlefield? Prepared to break the Statute of Secrecy in front of all
these people, expose magic to the Muggles once and for all? I am. I'm more than happy to change
the world forever, here and now. Are you?"
"You'd do all that just to take one person?" asked Lily, looking at the man disbelievingly.
"Of course," the man said. "This is the Minister of Magic, after all."
"Temporary Minister of Magic," Bulstrode mumbled.
James looked hard at the man, then past him, at the Muggles all around them, counting them all,
calculating how quietly he could take the man out. He lifted his wand.
"No," said Caradoc gruffly, staying James' hand. "We can't."
The dark-skinned man looked at Caradoc with intense curiosity. "This is going to frustrate me
later, you know. I expect I'll realize who you are right when you're no longer in front of me." He
sighed. "Regardless, I'll take my leave now. I do so despise idle chatter."
With a crack, he vanished into thin air, taking Bulstrode with him. The now empty chair rattled on
the floor a little before settling. None of the Muggles seemed to notice the two men disappearing.
"Who was that?" James asked.
"Taureau Barkley," said Caradoc grimly, getting to his feet.
"And who is he?"
"Trouble. Always trouble." Caradoc let out a breath, and looked at Lily and James. "I'm going to
contact Sawyer, try and see if he can authorize a portkey for us to get out of here. You two stay
right there, I won't be long." He walked off, and was quickly lost to the crowd.
Lily was looking at James. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she bit her lip. "I was wrong," she said
abruptly.
"Um…"
"About everything I said earlier," she explained. "They were all thoughts that have occurred to me
over the last few days, but now... now I reckon I've figured it out. Things get ruined. I see that, and
I reckon it's a stupid thing to try and run away from. When there's a thing that's really good, yes, it
would be awful to ruin, but it would be even more awful, no, painful, to not indulge it."
James had to wonder why she'd insisted on speaking in riddles the entire night. He stared into her
eyes, green and mesmerizing. "And what is this good thing that you want to indulge, Evans?"
Hey eyes twinkled, and her smile, confident yet shy in the most beautiful way, made James feel
like he'd been seized by a portkey again. "Us," she said. "I want to indulge us, Potter."
And there it was. After all this time, this whole day, these last few months, these last few years, her
words were the sweetest, most fulfilling sound to ever reach James' ears.
He was grinning, and he couldn't control it. His face was seized by the grin. He opened his mouth,
but faltered when all the Muggles in the bar, in the street and all around them, suddenly grew
excited, their chattering growing louder and uncontainable.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Lily was looking behind him. He turned, saw a clock hanging from a street lamp. "I think," she
said, "it's not quite yet midnight here."
James' eyes widened. "Time Zones."
She nodded, biting her lip.
"Dez," everyone in the city seemed to yell as one.
James locked eyes with her, and he couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. They'd been given
another chance.
"Nove!"
His throat was dry, his lips were dry. His hands clenched on his knees.
"Oito!"
She blew a strand of hair off her forehead.
"Sete!"
"Seis!"
"Cinco!"
His knowledge of Spanish was poor, and how that translated to Portuguese was even poorer. Be
that as it may, "Quatro!" was clearly four. He saw the recognition in Lily's eyes, too. Her
inescapably beautiful green eyes.
"Três!"
She started leaning in, her face growing closer, and James matched the movement, engraving every
detail of her face at this proximity into his memory. Every freckle and dimple, every crease by her
eyes as she smiled at him.
"Dois!"
He could feel her breath on his face, could make out the individual flecks of green in the iris of her
eyes. Their noses almost touched.
"Um!"
They both tilted their heads, leaned that last bit further in, their lips a hair's breadth apart, one
twitch away, and then they paused for the final, exuberant beat.
"Feliz Ano Novo!"
Their lips crashed together, and it was like a man had been pushing the plates of the Earth's crust
apart all this time before finally giving into the pressure, letting nature take its course, for their kiss
felt violent, seismic, and inevitable. They pushed at each other, and pushed and pushed, just like
they always had, incessantly and unrelentingly, and when they reached the breaking point their lips
opened and their tongues clashed, swiping and tumbling. Lily's hand was in James' hair, and he
took her by the waist and pulled her into him, their chests pressed against each other. She moaned
against his lips, a release, and James pulled her even tighter against him, his tongue probing
further. She tasted of the whisky they'd drank, and her hair, so red and captivating, smelled of the
shampoo of hers he had once paid Marlene thirty Galleons to steal for him, on a particularly
pathetic day in Fourth Year. The scent of pine and the sweetness of vanilla. He still hadn't told her
about that.
He cradled the back of her head with one hand, relishing the chance to finally run his fingers
through those red locks, committing every sensation, of her lips and her tongue, her nose and cheek
and forehead pressed against his own, her hair in his hands and her breath in his mouth, to memory.
He knew her every movement, because it mirrored his own. He supposed it always had. So when it
came to an end, the two broke the kiss at the same time, leaned back a fraction and looked into
each other's eyes with the same intensity and passion, and though James was no stranger to being
hopelessly in love with her, he had never before felt it more strongly than at that moment.
They both let out breaths, and then shaky laughs, and Lily leaned back further. "Happy new year,
Potter."
James smiled, taking in her frazzled hair, dilated pupils, and red face. Oh, how he loved her.
"Happy new year, Evans."
She seemed surprised that she was almost on his lap, and moved back further, sitting properly on
her own seat. She looked at him and her eyes twinkled again, her smile radiant. "Definitely worth
indulging, right?"
He had to stop himself from lunging back in to indulge again, and simply smiled back.
"Definitely."
"A second new year," said Caradoc in bemusement as he emerged from the crowd with a brown
leather shoe in hand. "Don't see that too often. Are you two ready to go?"
They shared one last look before turning back to Caradoc. "Yeah," said Lily. "I think we are."
The Horizon
A man stood guard by the door. There was a gun on his hip, and a black device in his hand with an
antenna sticking out of it.
Blithe removed the disillusionment charm from himself and watched the man's eyes widen in
alarm, hand reaching for the deadly weapon.
"What the- who are you? Stop right there!"
"Guns," said Blithe lightly, walking towards the man at a leisurely pace, "are among your kind's
most foul inventions. A device with no purpose other than to inflict pain. To take life."
The man lifted the gun, levelling it right at Blithe. "Not one more step!"
"And yet, it serves as a most elegant representation of your kind's limitations. Where there is a
problem, you kill it. No finesse, no diplomacy. Just the flashy pretences of a creature no different
from the apes that crawled out of the mud."
A gunshot, but Blithe had moved suddenly, so quickly that the man's eyes didn't flicker back to
him until Blithe's hand was around his throat, lifting him off the ground. The gun went off again,
Blithe heard it just by his ear, and with his other hand he grabbed the man's wrist and pushed it
until the barrel of the gun was touching the man's temple.
"You like inflicting pain, don't you?" he whispered. "A part of you, try as you might to conceal it,
to smother and bury it within yourself, wants to thrash around, to bathe in the blood, see hurt in
another's eyes."
The man gurgled, his face red.
"You don't have to admit it. I've seen it for myself. Experienced it." He dropped the man, watched
him fall to his knees, suck in deep lungfuls of air. The gun clattered to the floor, as did the black
device from his other hand. A voice rang out from the black device, distorted and grating, and
Blithe could barely make out any words. "I will grant you, though, your innovation in the absence
of magic is impressive. What do you call this device?"
"A walkie-talkie," the man gasped.
Blithe raised his eyebrows. "I take that back. Walkie-talkie? Merlin, Muggles really are dull."
The man's hand was crawling towards the gun. Blithe let it get close enough, let his fingers graze
the metal, before grabbing a fistful of the man's hair and yanking his head back. He took his wand
out and held it to the man's throat. "I want to kill you," he said, gazing into his face. "I'm sorely
tempted. But it would cause some unnecessary complications. A memory charm will have to
suffice. You'll live the rest of your meaningless life without ever knowing how little you deserve it.
Without ever remembering this feeling of being powerless, this insurmountable truth of your kind's
inferiority." There was no understanding in the man's eyes. No comprehension or appreciation for
the weight behind Blithe's words. Just the fear of a cattle stuck in the crosshairs of some
untouchable predator. That would have to be enough, Blithe supposed with a sigh. "Obliviate."
The eyes clouded over, and the man sagged. Blithe left him on the ground and opened the door.
The Muggle Prime Minister looked up from his desk, frowned at him. "Can I help you?"
Blithe closed the door behind him. Looked immediately at the portrait hanging on the wall, of a
man with a silver wig. The man's eyes widened. "You. You are not authorized to be here. I must
alert the Minister-"
"Morgan Bulstrode is currently unavailable," said Blithe lightly. "And he was never the Minister."
"What is he busy with that he would send you in his place?" the man asked, sounding suspicious.
"He is busy dealing with the consequences of his actions. You will not be seeing him again."
"What's going on here?" asked the Prime Minister, looking flummoxed. "Are you one of them?
One of those magicians?"
"Wizards," Blithe said quietly.
"Yes, yes. What's this about Bulstrode? Was he sacked?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
At that, the man with the silver wig had heard enough and made to leave his portrait from its side,
presumably to check into his portrait at the Ministry. Blithe raised his wand to the portrait, his
sleeve whipping from the swiftness of the movement, and there was a flash of light. The man froze
in his frame, so still one might think he was only a Muggle painting.
"Do you think memory charms work on portraits?" he asked the Minister, tilting his head, wand
still lifted.
"I- I haven't the slightest."
"Hm. Certainly an ordinary charm won't suffice. But perhaps if I augment it a little bit…" He
closed his eyes, streamlining his thoughts into a spell, shaping and moulding a new memory charm
through intent and deliberation. When he was done he opened his eyes, and there was another flash
of light. The portrait seemed untouched, but that was to be expected. Satisfied, he pocketed his
wand. "That should do the trick, I think. I overdid it, so he might not even remember his identity
after this, but there's nothing to be done about that."
The Minister was still staring at him, the papers and folders sitting on his desk abandoned.
"So, my dear Minister, what brings you into the office at three in the morning on the first day of
the new year?"
The Minister folded his arms. "Business. Reports and… and things."
"Is that right? You didn't get into another fight with your wife?"
The Minister's brow furrowed, and he looked astonished then quickly outraged. "How do you
know that? That's my private- that's personal! How dare you spy on me?"
Blithe snorted and sat in the only empty chair, facing the Minister from across the desk. "It's
common knowledge, my friend. Your bodyguards know about your marriage problems. Did you
really sleep in the office on Christmas day?" He held up a hand. "Don't answer. I saw their
memories. I know you did, you sad, sad man."
The Minister colored, his face boiling. "My business is none of your concern. Who are you,
anyway?"
"Who I am doesn't matter. Not really. I'm just here to make sure everything goes according to plan.
Bulstrode's, ah, removal from office was unexpected. The plan has accelerated somewhat."
"Plan? What plan?"
"Can I rely on your discretion, Minister? Can I depend on your ability to co-operate and do as
you're told?" The Minister opened his mouth and Blithe laughed. "Who am I kidding? Of course I
can't. Imperio."
Marlene woke up on the morning of January first, and took in a deep breath of Sirius Black. She
opened her eyes wide. Shit.
He lay next to her, his head resting on her pillow, his black hair as tousled and unruly as ever. She
distinctly remembered running her hands through that hair only hours earlier.
Shit.
His eyes were closed and he was sleeping soundly. Angelically. Oh, this would not do. This would
not do at all.
She elbowed him hard in the side.
"Argh!" He bolted upright and looked around frantically before settling his gaze on her, his
expression reproachful. "Good morning to you, too, McKinnon."
"Out," she said, panic crawling into her pounding head. "You need to go, Black. Now."
She rolled out of bed. She wore only knickers and a loose shirt - his shirt from last night, she
realized with a groan - and with all the dignity she could muster, she put her hands on her hips. "I'm
serious, Black, you can't be here."
He looked affronted at first, which turned into a strong, venomous scowl. "You're
unceremoniously kicking me out, just like that? You came onto me last night, McKinnon. I was
happy to simply go along with it. Don't you do this now. I was perfectly fine with us just being
friends."
"You think I wanted this to happen?"
"You said, and I quote, 'I've really wanted this to happen, Black.' How else was I supposed to
interpret that?"
She colored. She did remember saying that. "Look, it doesn't matter. I just need you to leave right
now."
He rolled out of her bed, looking furious. He was naked, and she kept her eyes determinedly on his
face. And then on his chest, and his abdomen, then trailing down to marvel at- his face. She was
looking at his face and nothing else. She didn't want to guess how red she'd gotten, and luckily
Sirius was looking anywhere but at her as he fumed silently.
He picked his pants up off the floor and slipped into them, before he finally looked at her flatly. "I
need my shirt."
She bit her lip. "Do you?"

"What?"
"Right," she said quickly, "your shirt. Okay. Turn around, would you?" He turned and she tugged
his shirt off her light frame, threw it over to him. She quickly grabbed one of her own tops strewn
haphazardly on the ground and pulled it on. "You can turn back around now."
He didn't bother. Simply shook his head and walked to the door. "I can't believe you, McKinnon. I
liked you, properly liked you, but you say we're only friends. Then you go and come onto me,
make me think we're on the same page… and now you pull this? You're the last person I expected
this rubbish from."
Suddenly, she wanted to explain herself.
"My parents will go ballistic if they see you," she said hurriedly. "It's a big house, but still. I can't
take the risk. There's too much at stake."
He stopped and turned to look at her. Her face was still red, she could feel it. "What are you on
about, McKinnon?"
"It's bigger than just me and you. Regardless of how I might feel, there's a reason that what
happened last night shouldn't have happened, and why it can't happen again. Each time I've
rejected you, I've never explained why. There's a reason. A reason why until last night, I've insisted
we can't be anything more than just friends."
He raised an eyebrow. "Your parents won't approve of me. Is that it?"
"No."
"Because that's hardly a new problem for me. I've run into disapproving parents more times than I
can count."
"It's not that."
"Are you worried that they'll like me too much? Because that's happened quite often too, I'm afraid.
Just ask James. Although I doubt he'll admit it. He's still in denial, the poor thing."
"Black."
"It's really quite sad. I promise you, though, I can dial back the charm. It won't be easy, because it's
not the sort of thing I have much control over - have you seen this face?"
"Black."
"But I'm more than happy to try. I like you, McKinnon, and I reckon you like me too. Why
shouldn't two people who like each other just be tog-"
Marlene stomped her foot and sighed heavily. "Black."
"What?"
"I'm engaged."
Regulus was in a dark room, deep under the ground. It was a winding maze of corridors down
there, filled with Death Eaters and stale air, mold and spiders, all of the sickly things that thrived in
the cold and the dark.
In this room with him were some of his classmates. Snape, Mulciber, Rosier, Travers, Dolohov
Junior, and Avery. Elsewhere around the room were the faces of prolific Death Eaters such as
Regulus' cousin Bellatrix, a couple of the Malfoys, Nott, Macnair, one of the Selwyns. In front of
the teenagers was a body, unmoving. A brown sack covered its head, tied at the neck. From behind
Regulus came Lord Voldemort's voice.
"You are all talented. All capable." His voice, without being raised, was chilling. A knife could
have been run along Regulus' back with each word. "You have the purest of blood, too. Old blood.
Noble." Though his footsteps made no noise, Regulus knew somehow that the Dark Lord was
walking around them. He could feel it. "Joining our ranks is no small matter. It is the greatest
honor, an irreversible commitment."
He stopped in front of them, and Regulus looked at him. His eyes looked almost scarlet by the light
of the room's one lamp, which glowed with a dim green. His skin was stretched so tightly over his
bones that he might as well have been a skull in a robe. He was a snake of a man, impossible and
deadly and terrifying. Regulus swallowed.
"Today, before we finally, completely welcome you into our fold, I shall demonstrate to you just
how irreversible and final this commitment is." He pointed to the body.
"The man before you thought he could betray us without consequences. He thought the mark on
his arm is for show, and easily forgotten." He looked at Regulus then, right into his eyes. "Regulus.
As you are a Black, I have no doubt about your dedication and willingness to serve. I am told,
though, that you were not present at the battle of Síla."
Regulus licked his lips. "I was hesitant, my lord. My resolve was lacking. But now I am yours. I
give all of myself to you."
Voldemort nodded like he'd expected this answer, and gestured to the body. "Then you shall
demonstrate to us all. Kill this man, Regulus."
Regulus looked at the body. "He's… alive?"
"Oh, yes. Bella had strict instructions to leave him sane and breathing." Bellatrix pouted at his
words from where she stood. "You shall do the honors, Regulus. Have you ever used the spell?"
He shook his head.
"It's quite simple," said Voldemort, in an encouraging, silky voice Regulus had never heard from
him before. "I'm sure you know the words. All you have to do is mean them."
Regulus nodded. He reached for his wand, fumbled it. Pulled it out on the second try and pointed it
at the man. Seconds passed. Regulus' mind went blank. No intent, no desire. He didn't have it in
him.
Voldemort seemed to figure this out too, and sighed. "I made it quite easy for you. You didn't even
have to look at his face, into his eyes. But perhaps you are a more practical learner. One who needs
engagement." He flicked his wand, and the brown sack vanished from around the man's head. The
other teens inhaled sharply and Regulus froze.
"Morgan Bulstrode," he whispered. "That's the Minister of Magic."
"Temporary Minister of Magic," Voldemort corrected. "And, much like Eugenia Jenkins before
him, his time has now come to an abrupt and unfortunate end. In his absence, and with enough
time and careful planning, his post will be filled by a man who we call Blithe."
"Is this Blithe one of ours?" asked Dolohov Junior.
"Oh, very much so. A most invaluable spy amongst our enemies. Certainly more useful than this
traitor turned out to be." Voldemort turned his wand on the man once more, and Bulstrodes eyes
opened. He sat bolt upright in a state of panic, looked around frantically. "Now, Regulus. Kill
him."
Bulstrode snapped his head to them and bleated. "Have mercy! My lord, please! I would never
betray you, I swear it!"
"Now, Regulus."
Bulstrode turned to Regulus, his eyes filling with tears. "Boy. Boy, please! I have a family. A
daughter!"
"You have no children," said Lucious Malfoy, leaning against the wall and looking bored. "No
family. No friends to miss you."
"I have a brother," said Bulstrode, still looking at Regulus with pleading, desperate eyes. "I have
friends. I want to live, boy, please!"
There was no choice. Regulus knew there was no choice. What he had to do went against every
instinct in his heart, but his mind knew better, knew the consequences for disobeying the Dark
Lord. That is where he drew his intent from, so that when he finally said it, he meant it. "Avada
Kedavra."
The room lit up for a brief moment, and then Bulstrode hit the ground once more, the life having
left his body.
Voldemort was smiling, an evil, sick smile. "Well done, Regulus. Well done indeed."
There would be no disobeying the Dark Lord. Regulus knew that now. The rest of his life would
see him obeying every order, fulfilling every request, and it was a fate that there could be no
escape from. All this and more was made clear to him as he kneeled with the other teens in front of
Voldemort, their forearms extended. Voldemort moved from arm to arm, tapping his wand to them
and smiling cruelly as each boy hissed and cried out when that small patch of skin on their arms
boiled and contorted.
When Regulus' turn came, there was one thing in particular that drove home to him that he could
never, ever turn back now.
It was pain. Blinding, excruciating pain.
Lily stared at the pile of dishes with pursed lips, and the pile of dishes stared back. In just a few
weeks, she would turn seventeen. In a few weeks, she would never have to wash a dish by hand
again. With only a flick of her wand, they would all be done. These past six years, every time Lily
was faced with a pile of dishes her wand would call to her from her back pocket, begging to be
used, and she would always have to refuse it. But not for much longer. Not for much longer…
"Oh, Lily, just get on with it," cajoled her mother as she walked through the kitchen. "It only takes
so long because you waste so much time."
"In just a few weeks," Lily began-
"I know, dear. You'll just magic the dishes away. But until then, you really must make do."
"Just do what I do," said Mr Evans from the dining table. "Get a wife and daughter, and it's like the
dishes aren't even there."
Mrs Evans looked at him. "Actually, Lily, don't worry about the dishes. Your father will take care
of them."
Mr Evans blinked. "I will?"
"You will."
"But I'm not sure I know how to wash dishes."
"You'll pick it up, dear. You're awfully clever."
Lily simply shook her head and walked from the kitchen, smiling a little as Mr Evans stood from
the table and tried to placate his wife. "I was joking, honest! Don't make me wash the dishes."
"No, you've reminded me how little housework you really do. Look at the floor, it's filthy."
"It's spotless," Mr Evans protested.
"It's filthy and you need to clean it."
Lily tuned her parents out and wandered over to the sitting room. She picked a book off the table
and curled up on the couch. With her return to Hogwarts imminent, she was making sure to relish
the quiet moments, as she knew that very soon they would once again be few and far between. She
opened the book.
There was a knock on the door, two sharp raps.
Scowling, Lily put the book back down and got up, marched to the door. She opened it and stared.
"Alright, Evans?"
Oh, for Merlin's sake. Again?
"Potter," she said slowly, ignoring the way her heartbeat became suddenly erratic at the sight of the
messy haired boy. "What are you doing here?"
His lips curved upwards. She'd kissed those lips the last time they'd been this close. "Just thought
I'd pop by. There was something I wanted to ask you."
Oh, Merlin. Oh, no. She wasn't ready. She hadn't had time to think about this, it was too soon, it
was-
"Is Marlene really engaged?"
She froze.
He was looking at her seriously.

"What?"
"It's just," he rubbed his neck, "Sirius went home with her on New Year's, and when they woke up
yesterday morning she kicked him out and told him she's engaged. Is… is it true?"
Lily bit her lip, smothering her feelings, and chose her words carefully. "What else did Black tell
you?"
"Aside from Marlene being engaged? Well-"
"Marlene's engaged?" Mrs Evans materialized by Lily's side in a flash. "How wonderful! Oh, that's
so exciting! Hello, James. It's very nice to see you again."
James gave her a charming smile, but faltered when Lily's dad appeared on her other side.
"Potter," he said with narrowed eyes, folding his arms. "Have you come to steal my only daughter
away again?"
"We have another daughter, dear," whispered his wife.
Mr Evans' eyes widened and he paled. "Shit, that's right."
James coughed pointedly while Mrs Evans gave her husband a sharp look for his language. "No,
Mr Evans, I haven't."
"Please, Potter, call me sir," said Mr Evans.
Lily rolled her eyes. "He's not here to steal me away, Dad. He just wants to know something about
Marlene."
"Yes, yes, we all want to know about Marlene," said Mrs Evans. "Please come in, James. I'll make
tea, and then we can all hear Lily's story."
"This really isn't a group thing," said Lily flatly.
"Nonsense, Lily, James wants us there. Don't you, James?"
James hesitated. "Uh…"
"See? Now come on in, James. The sitting room's that way. How do you like your tea?"
He stepped in, looking unsure. "Sweet?"
"Wonderful. Any biscuit preferences?"
"Not really."
"Splendid. Lily, show him to the sitting room, won't you?"
If Lily had written a list of settings she'd least like to talk to James in only a day after kissing him,
the sitting room with her parents would have been at the very, very bottom. She closed her eyes,
mustering all her patience, and looked at James with a pained expression.
He gave her a reassuring look as they walked to the sitting room. "My parents are easily more
mental than yours," he whispered, "so don't worry. If anything, I find this rather tame."
She smiled at him. He had a silver tongue, that boy.
Lily's dad had already sat and made himself comfortable, and was watching the two of them with a
frown. "Lily," he said, "you sit over there. On the far couch. Potter, I want you next to me."
"Dad," she said through gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry, Lily, but it's for your own good."
James smiled a little. "No problem." He sat down next to Lily's father, and Lily couldn't have felt
more uncomfortable about it.
She watched them from her seat, watched her mother walk in with a tray of tea and biscuits,
watched James thank her, smile and make a joke, and her mother laugh and pat him on the back.
Her father said something dumb, and James said something awkward with a smile, and slowly Lily
found that there was actually something that seemed... comfortable about it. Bizarrely, by some
stroke of brilliant luck, James seemed to fit right in with her nutball parents. Or maybe it wasn't
luck. Maybe it was just James.
But oh, she really wished her parents weren't there right then.
"So," said Mrs Evans, settling down next to her, "tell us, Lily. What's this about Marlene being
engaged? She's a wonderful girl, but she's a bit young, isn't she?"
Lily breathed heavily. "Seeing as Black went and told you," she said to James, "I'm assuming that
Mar's fine with it being out now. It could only have been a secret for so long anyway, so I guess it's
fine to tell you all. Yes, Marlene is engaged. She has been for quite some time now." She surveyed
James again. "How much did she tell Black about it?"
James shrugged. "Sirius wasn't too keen to talk about it with me. He just came home briefly,
looking all wound up, and told me the one thing. Marlene is engaged. Then he turned on the spot
and apparated to who knows where. I need to know what's going on."
Lily nodded. She'd expected as much. "I can imagine he didn't take it well. Alice and I didn't,
when she told us back in Fourth Year. It's… a frustrating story."
"Frustrating how?"
Lily sighed, and tried to think back to how Marlene had started it back then.
Arranged marriages were old hat to Pure-blood families. Ever since the famed marriage of
Achernar Black to Telephassa, the last daughter of the legendary Peverell family, they had become
something of a tradition. The purity of one's blood was deciphered not just by how far back their
lineage could go, but also by the specific union of their parents. Gaunt to a Selwyn, Prewett to an
Olivander, Potter to a Greengrass. Where before, two Pure-bloods could be just as pure as one
another, suddenly they were not. The union of Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix Black was seen
as better, purer, than the marriage of Amos Diggery and Belle MacDougal.
So far as that scale of purity went, the McKinnon family ranked somewhere close to the bottom.
They were Pure-bloods, but the McKinnon name was nastily common among Muggles. It could
only mean that someone in the family, a long time ago, had messed up, casting doubt upon all
future generations of McKinnons forever more.
Rather dramatic, isn't that, Lily dear?
That's just how she told us the story, Mum.
Hang on, Evans. Lestrange and Black, and Diggery and MacDougal, they all only got married
recently. How could she have told you this story in Fourth Year?
I added that part to illustrate the idea for you all better, Potter.
And watch who you call Evans, boy. We're all Evanses in this house.
Sorry, sir.
As I was saying…
With the McKinnon name decreasing in value and repute with each generation, it would become
increasingly difficult for a McKinnon to wed a Pure-blood of higher pedigree, only worsening their
dilemma. So it was that Marlene and her parents found themselves to be the last living McKinnons
with pure blood. Unfortunately, this raised a new issue. The horde of generational wealth that every
Pure-blood family amassed over the centuries, or in some cases, millenia, was usually stored in a
family vault, deep under the ground, in the criss-crossing tunnels that made up Gringotts bank.
However, in the case of the McKinnons, everything that was not currently sitting in their large,
mostly empty house, was lying in the vaults of a variety of other Pure-blood families as part of a
deal. This deal was made by Marlene's great-grandfather, Ophiuchi McKinnon. Realizing the
direction the McKinnon name was going in, he contacted various Pure-blood families before more
damage could be done, offering them each large portions of the McKinnon inheritance should they
agree for some specific descendants along the line to be wed. In this fashion, Marlene's father was
married to her mother, as was her father's father before him.
So Marlene had been engaged before she'd even been born.
As she was the last in the line of McKinnons, when she would be wed, the McKinnon name would,
once and for all, be cleansed from the breaths of Pure-blood conversation. But its legacy would live
on in her descendants. Their surnames, it was decided, would be Ärger.
Marlene Ärger, eh? Hmm. That has absolutely no ring to it.
That's what we told her. But she didn't care.
When Marlene had first met William Ärger, she'd been instantly enamored. They were thirteen, and
both quite nervous to meet each other. Marlene had blushed, and he had stammered. They went out,
without supervision from their parents, to a Quidditch match. Tornados playing the Kestrels. Alone
together, the ice broke quickly, and they had some fun. He was nice, and funny. His smile always
reached his eyes.
"Call me Will," he told her once they reached the stadium.
"Okay," she said, smiling shyly. The smell of hot food wafted through the air, and her stomach
grumbled. She colored quickly.
"Are you hungry?"
"No!"
"We can share something if you want. There's a-"
Alright, we get the picture. He's nice, and they hit it off.
Yes, but there are a couple of really cute moments-
Evans, we don't care about the cute moments.
For once, I agree with the boy, Lily. What happened next?
Urgh. Fine.
But as time progressed, Marlene's view of the whole thing started to grow negative. Lily and
Alice's insistence that she deserved to find someone herself, without her family's dumb rules,
probably didn't help matters.
"You guys are right," Marlene said heatedly, pacing about their dormitory midway through Fifth
Year. "Who are they to make that sort of choice for me? Will's nice, but why can't I have the
freedom to marry whomever I please?"
The girls had chorused their agreement.
Her relationship with Will stayed pleasant. Each time they met, they talked amiably, and she made
no mention of her misgivings. But it was clear to the girls that Marlene was no longer taking any
pleasure in meeting him each time, perhaps as it was a constant reminder that her future wasn't her
own. Not really.
And recent events certainly didn't help matters.
"The fact that her and Black were so close did worry me a little," Lily admitted. "The possibility
that maybe there was something going on, I mean. But until New Year's, I had never actually
believed that it would happen."
James smirked at her. "I told you. I told you there was something going on that night, didn't I?"
She rolled her eyes, smiling a little. "Yes, Potter. You told me."
Mr Evans looked between the two with a small frown. "What does Marlene look like again? I can't
seem to remember."
"You've seen Marlene, Dad. She's come over a few times."
"Do you have a picture or something? Just to refresh my memory?"
Lily grimaced and nodded. "I suppose." She stood, and walked from the sitting room. "I'll be right
back."
The moment her red hair whipped out of sight, Mr Evans rounded on James. "What are your
intentions with my daughter?"
"What?"
"We're being completely serious now, Potter. I see how you look at her. How she looks at you.
What are your intentions?"
"I-" James swallowed. "I intend to date her, sir. I like her a lot, and if she likes me then I'm going to
ask her out and date her."
"Even if I don't give you my blessing?"
James gave a dry smile. "With all due respect, if Lily wants to do something, there isn't a damn
thing anyone can do to stop her."
Mr Evans raised an eyebrow, and then chuckled. "You know her too well."
"Yeah."
The man looked at his wife, who hadn't spoken in all this and was regarding her husband with an
amusedly resigned expression. "He got me," said Mr Evans. "He got me with that line. Damn it."
He turned back to James, looking pained. "You had better treat her right, boy."
"I will."
"Because if you do anything to make her unhappy, I will-"
"It doesn't matter what you want to do, because Lily will have long since killed me herself," said
James before he could stop himself.
Mrs Evans snorted. Mr Evans stared at him for a moment before speaking. "You're cheeky, aren't
you?"
"That's what they tell me."
A sigh. "I like you. Damn it, James, as much as I wish I didn't, I do. I like you."
"Is now a bad time?" asked Lily, standing and watching them from the room's entrance, eyebrow
raised, a moving photo of Marlene in hand. "Because I can come back later."
James laughed and got to his feet. "Please, don't leave on my account. I'd best be off anyway, I had
only come here for a brief chat."
"You sure? Mum, do you want to tell Potter how much you like him, too?"
"Oh, James knows," said Mrs Evans, smiling good-naturedly at James. "I tell him every time I see
him."
"You've seen him twice."
"And so I've told him two times."
"I told him two times in one sentence," bragged Mr Evans from the couch. "Big deal."
Lily shook her head once more at her parents and led James to the door. "Sure you can't stay?"
"Yeah," he said. "I've got to take care of some stuff at home, seeing as Mum and Dad are over at
the Prewetts' for tea and Sirius has conveniently vanished."
"How responsible of you," said Mrs Evans, following them to the door. "Lily, I hope you
demonstrate this responsibility when you have to look after the house while your father and I are on
holiday."
"Yes, Mum," Lily droned.
"Where are you going?" asked James.
"On a cruise," called Mr Evans from the sitting room. "A wine cruise for our wedding
anniversary!"
"He got tired of me telling him that we never do anything for our anniversary," said Mrs Evans.
"So he just went out and bought tickets without telling me, and now I have to go."
"I bet you're really excited, Mum," smirked Lily. "Don't lie."
"Maybe," said Mrs Evans with a small smile. "But it means that we'll miss you when you're on
Easter break, because your father can't plan properly."
"Love you too, honey," Mr Evans called.
"Dear, get off that couch. You have some dishes to do, remember?"
As Lily's parents argued, she turned to James and grinned. "See you at school then, Potter."
He nodded and returned her grin. "See you at school, Evans."
They both leaned in, and her parents stopped talking suddenly, and Lily veered to the side, kissing
James on the cheek.
He looked amused, and winked at her. Then, without another word, he stepped outside. The door
closed behind him.
"You know, Lily, you two have some palpable chemistry."
"Dad," said Lily, her eyes closed, "please just go wash the dishes."
Taureau Barkley moved through the Ministry, a ghost among all the people with their fancily
embroidered robes. He followed a rather fat man with a top hat, then broke off and darted into an
empty elevator before the doors could close. He got off on the next floor and flitted between pillars
and walls.
Because of one Caradoc Dearborn, his description had been circulating recently. Taureau had to be
careful. Gone were the exquisite suits and aviator sunglasses, to be replaced by loose, drab, and
intentionally forgettable black robes. At least for today, at any rate.
This wasn't the first way in which Dearborn had inconvenienced him. For days and days, Taureau
had been plagued by one specific memory from the battle of Síla. Of a man with a blurry face
defeating him in single combat. It wasn't until after New Year's Eve, when Taureau had found
Morgan Bulstrode in Portugal, attempting to strike a deal with a man in disguise alongside two
school kids, that it had struck him. That man, on both occasions, was Caradoc Dearborn.
Taureau reached the Auror Department, slipped past the receptionist before she could even look
up.
His knowledge of Dearborn consisted of a few things. The first was that Dearborn was an Auror.
That much was common knowledge, as he'd had some acclaimed success over the last few years.
The second was that Dearborn was a Death Eater. Taureau had marched on Síla alongside him, and
that had been his last memory of the man until recently.
The third thing was the Dearborn was actually working against the Death Eaters. For whatever
reason, he had attacked Taureau back in Síla, and had been in the process of taking down Bulstrode
on New Year's.
Taureau didn't really care if Dearborn betrayed the Death Eaters. Taureau wasn't a Death Eater
himself. His services had simply been hired, and he always followed orders.
Today, Taureau wasn't at the Ministry on anyone's orders. Today was personal.
He could have told his employer that Dearborn was a double-agent, of course. That would have
been the simplest thing. But that would also mean that the matter would be taken out of Taureau's
hands. No, Taureau wanted to do this himself.
He walked past the office of Emmett Fawley, not stopping to check in like he was used to doing
whenever he came here. Instead, Taureau walked deeper, reached the perfect spot.
Bartemius Crouch, an official from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was talking to
another hard-faced man not far away. There was Jedidiah Hobbart, from the Wizengamot,
frowning down at some papers. A Junior Minister of the Department of Magical Accidents and
Catastrophes, Cornelius Fudge, walked in, too. Taureau smiled. This reception couldn't have been
better if he'd planned for it.
Dearborn would run, frantically and desperately, as he was hunted. Only then would Taureau end
him.
He placed a thin vial on the ground. Inside was an opaque thread, silvery white - his memory of
Dearborn marching with the Death Eaters, a particularly incriminating moment as the auror gave a
sinister smile, lifted his wand, and put the taunting mask over his face. Altered, of course.
Dearborn hadn't actually offered that sinister smile, but Taureau reckoned it really added to the
effect.
He twirled his wand in the air, and slipped away. He sped stealthily back through the Department,
hearing gasps and loud voices behind him as people started to notice his handiwork.
Taureau smiled to himself once more, his day's work done, content to simply watch and lie in wait
until the perfect moment presented itself.
He left the Auror Department, all those officials and ministers pointing at the air in his wake, at the
large, silvery letters floating around at eye level.
CARADOC DEARBORN IS A DEATH EATER
Alice shut the oven with her hip, and carried the steaming tray to the table.
"Muffins," Frank said happily, reaching for one.
Alice took her oven mitts off and slapped his hand with them. "Not yet. They need to cool."
Looking her straight in the eyes, Frank grabbed his wand and flicked it. The muffins stopped
steaming. Alice prodded one gently, and it was just the right kind of warm.
"Well, alright," she said grudgingly. "Go on, then."
Grinning, Frank grabbed a cupcake and bit into it. "Oh, Merlin," he said, closing his eyes. "I'm so
glad my girlfriend can cook."
"How long are you going to keep doing that?" she asked, amused.
"Doing what?"
"Calling me your girlfriend at every opportunity. When my parents answered the door this
morning, I heard you say, 'I'm here to visit Alice, my girlfriend.' Don't get me wrong, I think it's
very sweet. But also funny."
"Well, you see, Alice, my girlfriend-" she snorted, "-the very thought that you are my girlfriend
now, after all this time, is still so thrilling, so mind-boggling, so invigorating, that I can't help but
mention it wherever possible, just to hear it out loud. Hearing it is enough to make my heart race,
and I think it always will be."
Alice surveyed him with a raised brow. "You're so cheesy," she said, putting the mitts back on and
grabbing the tray again. "You were never like this when we were just friends."
"It's much too late to look back now, Alice, my girlfriend. It's a new day! The world will never be
the same!"
"Mhm." She started carrying the tray from the room. "I'm going to offer some of these to the old
ones. You better quit this talk when I get back, or I might throw up in your mouth."
He sobered. "Duly noted."
Alice stepped out onto the front porch, where four adults sat around a wooden table, having their
tea. "Muffins are ready."
"Oh, how lovely," said Mrs Potter, lighting up. "Thank you, Alice."
"It smells terrific," said Mr Prewett, taking a whiff of them.
Alice put the tray on the table, and Mrs Prewett delicately picked one up and took a bite, then
made a satisfied noise. "Oh, Alice, you've done a wonderful job."
Alice smiled. "Thanks."
Mr Potter nudged his wife. "How come our boys never cook for us?"
Mrs Potter sighed. "We didn't raise them well enough, I expect."
"Well that's hardly fair," he complained. "We've only had Sirius for a year."
"I'll have a word with his parents then, shall I?" she said. "Right after I beat them senseless, see
how they like being on the receiving end of things."
"Euphemia," he said quietly, "that's a brilliant idea."
"We're not actually going to do it."
"What? Why not?"

"What kind of example would that set for the boys?"
"A very good one, I expect. An example of efficiency and strength."
Mr Prewett sighed exasperatedly. "Fleamont, take a muffin already. Alice is waiting for you."
Alice smiled awkwardly.
"Ah, that's right!" Mr Potter took a muffin, and bit into it.
Not for the first time, it struck Alice just how similar the man looked to his son. She wondered if
James had told his parents that they had dated, if briefly. Probably not.
"Oh, Merlin, my son's an idiot for breaking up with you," said Mr Potter through a mouthful of
food. "That's really good."
Alice colored.
"What he means is that we're both very happy for you and Frank," Mrs Potter said, smiling at her
warmly.
"Thank you."
"Though I'd much rather you date our son again."
"Right."
"He's not that bad, really. Once you get over the knobbly knees, there's so much to appreciate.
What do you think?"
Alice stared at the two, while her own parents watched her pityingly. She opened her mouth, not
knowing what to say, and was saved from having to attempt a response when a brown tawny owl,
one of the school ones, came swooping down suddenly, landing on the table with a prim flutter of
its wings. It stuck its leg out to Mr and Mrs Potter, bequeathing them the piece of parchment
attached.
Mrs Potter took the parchment and the couple leaned in, scanning it quickly. "Oh," she said. "Is it
that time already?"
"It seems we must be off," said Mr Potter, getting to his feet and finishing off his muffin. He
offered his hand to his wife and she allowed herself to be pulled up.
"Lovely seeing you all, as always," she said, smiling at the Prewetts. "You must come round to
ours one of these days, we've completely redone the garden."
With their hands clasped, they looked ready to apparate. Mr Potter glanced at Alice one last time.
"I hope you change your mind, Alice. We're much richer than the Longbottoms, you know."
"Once again," said Mrs Potter loudly, "I apologize for my husband."
With a crack, they turned on the spot and vanished.
In a town not far from Hogsmeade village, the man sat on a bench, alone in the afternoon sun. In
front of him, the lake glimmered, shiny and still, looking like an unthinkably large and precious
gem.
Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange approached from behind, wands drawn.
"Do you know who I am?" the man asked, turning his dark haired head and fixing them with an
expressionless gaze. The two stopped where they were.
"Harold Minchum," said Rabastan. "An Auror."
"You've led us on a merry chase all day," Rodolphus told him. "I'm curious, did you know we were
following you?"
Minchum's expression didn't shift. "One does not last long in my line of work if they cannot detect
two bumbling fools running along behind."
Rabaston growled and raised his wand, but Rodolphus stayed his hand.
"I see. As expected of the second-in-command to Sawyer Hughes."
Rabastan sniggered.
"Is that what this is about, then? Because I am number two to the man who will most likely be our
next Minister of Magic, you've taken it upon yourselves to bump me off?"
Rodolphus smiled, the sort of smile that said he knew something the other man didn't. "Simply
following orders, I'm afraid. Great plans are in motion, and a certain someone has decided that we
cannot have you getting in the way of things you have no business meddling with. Your time is
up."
Minchum stood, so slowly that it had to be on purpose, as though he were testing them. "I have
files of the two of you sitting on my desk, you know."
"We're flattered," said Rabastan. "But that won't do you a lot of good."
"You've cast an anti-apparition jinx on this place, haven't you?"
The brothers grinned.
"Goodness, that really is your favorite move, then."
"We've gotten some good results from it over the years, yes."
Minchum nodded. "An impressive kill-count."
"Oh, yes," said Rodolphus, smiling. "And it's about to-"
Rodolphus was blasted off his feet before he could finish, and he hit the ground hard. Breathless,
he rolled over and got up, cursed as he watched his brother trade spells with the Auror.
"Avada Ked-" he quickly cut himself off and dodged to the side as a jet of red light streaked
towards him. Minchum dueled Rabastan with a look of intense concentration on his face, and
spared another glance at Rodolphus, fired another jet of light at him. Rodolphus dodged again, and
ran forwards. "Avada Kedavra!"
Minchum dodged the green light, fired a spell that flew within an inch of Rabastan's head.
Rodolphus joined his brother, snarling as he fired another killing curse at their opponent. The
brothers got into a rhythm, and Minchum took a step back. The man's dark eyes were blank even as
he was pushed back, and he looked almost bored. He reached the lake's edge, his boots a hair's
breadth from the water's glittering surface, and held his ground. The brothers continued to advance,
their wandwork quick. They were too good for him.
But Minchum hadn't gained his reputation without warrant. With a flick of his wand, a bright light
flashed, and Rodolphus and Rabastan were pushed back a few steps. There was a splash, and when
the light cleared there were ripples on the lake's surface. Running forwards, Rodolphus looked into
the water and saw Minchum, not far under. Rabastan shot a killing curse at the figure, but the jet of
light slowed once it passed through the water's sheen and quickly petered out. Rodolphus thought
he could see Minchum wave his wand under the surface. Then the water swirled and churned and
raged, like a whirlpool had come into being, and from the middle of the torrent shot up a blue
beast, up into the air, a beast of frothing water and furious current. It resembled a sea serpent, with
skin of flowing spray and eyes of foamy pools. It opened its mouth and roared, the roar of the
ocean.
"Finite Incantatem," yelled Rodolphus.
The beast turned its head to him, opened its mouth wider still, and dove at him, down and down
and down came those jaws, and Rodolphus closed his eyes, bracing himself for the-
Splash, like many buckets of water being thrown over his head at once. He was instantly soaked to
the bone. He opened his eyes. Beside him, Rabastan had caught much of the beast's spray too,
looking just as soaked. They both turned back to the water's surface.
Minchum had disappeared.
Caradoc Dearborn walked into Dumbledore's office, nodded to those already gathered.
"Alright, Professor. I took the day off work for this, so I hope it's important." He took a look at
Harold Minchum and frowned. The man's hair was frizzy, as though wettened and then hastily
dried. His clothes smelled. "Have you been swimming, Harold?"
"I was attacked," said Harold. "By the Lestrange brothers."
Caradoc frowned. "Do you know why?"
"It seems to me that they were simply seeking to get rid of their obstacles. With Sawyer and myself
out of the way, Fawley and Bulstrode will have a clear path to power."
"Do we know if Sawyer is safe?" asked Fleamont Potter, standing with his wife by Dumbledore's
desk.
"He is," said Alastor Moody. "I checked in with him before I came here."
"He will need constant protection," said Dedalus Diggle, a usually excitable man who now had
steel in his eyes. "As will you, Harold."
Harold nodded. "If we can spare the manpower, then it couldn't hurt. But this raises a new concern.
What if both Sawyer and I are killed? We cannot let Bulstrode and Fawley seize power."
"I agree," said Dumbledore. "So should the worst case scenario come into being, who should we
back for the job of Minister, after Sawyer and yourself?"
Anton Windstrum spoke up, standing beside Professor McGonagall. "I think it's obvious,
Headmaster. It has to be you."
Dumbledore shook his head firmly. "I have made it abundantly clear many times, I shall not be the
Minister of Magic."
"Come now, Albus," said Euphemia Potter. "We all know your stance on the matter, but when duty
calls-"
"My duty is to this school, Euphemia."
"Albus," said McGonagall, "if not you, then… who?"
"I know who," said Caradoc.
All faces turned to look at him. One face in particular paled, and Caradoc grinned.
"And I think Dumbledore is in agreement with me."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "It makes the most sense."
The two turned to look at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"Absolutely not," said Anton, shaking his head. "I refuse. There, it's over. Dumbledore refused,
now I refuse. Who's next? Dedalus? Will you give it a go?"
Caradoc looked at his best friend with amusement. "Anton, you know you're the obvious choice.
You almost entered politics yourself when we left school."
"Almost," said Anton loudly. "I wanted to be the Minister of Magic as a teenager, yes. I prepared
myself for it, was groomed for it. But I got tangled up with Morgan Bulstrode and his lot, and I've
wanted nothing to do with politics ever since. I travelled the world for five years, for heaven's sake!
Have you all forgotten that? Just to get away from that scene, I took a five year break from the
country!"
"But now you're back," said Dumbledore quietly.
"I'm back because you offered me this job. That's it."
"Yet you are here, in this room, Anton. What we are doing is not a job, not something we want to
do. It is something we have to do. I think you've realized this."
"Find someone else."
"You are someone else, Anton," said Caradoc. Anton looked at him, frustration clear on his face.
"You know that it has to be you."
They stared each other down for a few seconds. Caradoc saw the decision being made in his
friend's eyes, on his face. Anton closed his eyes, took a breath. Then he opened them. "Alright. I'll
do it."
Everyone in the room heaved a sigh of relief.
"It's only in the worst case, anyway," said Caradoc supportively. "Sawyer and Harold aren't
dropping dead any time soon. Just look at Harold. Look how handsome he is!"
Harold didn't even twitch, his face as expressionless as ever.
"Yeah, yeah," Anton said, running a hand through his hair and sounding tired.
"With that matter resolved," said Dumbledore, "it is time to address why I have summoned you all
here today." They all straightened and turned to look at him. "This war is unrelenting, and only
growing more and more fast paced. Our enemies have dark things stirring on the horizon, and we
are struggling to keep up as it is."
He stood from his desk, tall and proud. A warrior.
"Voldemort has his army," he said. "It's well past time we assembled our own."
Fear to Love
James eyed Sirius as they pushed their trollies through King's Cross Station, their Christmas break
having finally come to an end. His friend did not look happy.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not particularly."
Even without their large trunks and caged owls, the two boys would have drawn plenty of
prolonged stares. Eyes lingered and eyebrows quirked wherever they would go. There was a
magnetism to the way they walked, a flair in their steps, and an unmistakable, irreplaceable
importance in their eyes. Or at least a healthy sense of self-importance.
"Well, I'm going to talk about it, so you can feel free to just listen."
"I'd really rather you didn't."
"Marlene is engaged."
Sirius sighed and looked up at the high ceiling, as though searching for a reprieve from the messy
haired boy.
"And she's engaged to a bloke called William." James looked closer at him. "William, Padfoot."
"I am aware of his name."
"William Ärger… that has to hurt."
Sirius grunted.
"I hadn't even heard of a Pureblood name like Ärger before. There must be a few Muggles in there
somewhere. Good for them."
"But you're a Black," James added, looking thoughtful. "It doesn't get much purer than that."
Clenched jaw.
"And you lost to an Ärger."
Sirius whirled on him. "Prongs, are you trying to make me hex you right now? What are you
doing?"
"I'm trying to make you talk about it," James said, crossing his arms. "I know how you get when
you stew on things."
"Yeah? How do I get?"
"Dumb."
"That right?"
"Last time you were like this, Padfoot, you told Snape how to get into the Whomping Willow."
Sirius closed his mouth. "Almost killed him, potentially getting Moony locked up."
Sirius' face had colored a little. "I may get a little dumb, I suppose."
"Marlene is engaged, Sirius. And you like her, don't you?"
Sirius nodded with a jerk of his head.
"Then what are you going to do about it?"
The grey eyed boy held his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away to the barrier between
Platforms Nine and Ten. "I'll just have to move on, won't I?"
"Mr Dearborn," said Propositus Crinkle, a thin man with a bow tie and a polite smile, "you have an
urgent meeting to attend. If you would please follow me."
Caradoc's brow furrowed. Propositus Crinkle was an administrator of some sort. He was mainly
seen doing jobs befitting an assistant for various ministers around the place, and Caradoc had had
little to do with him in the past. Now, having the man greet Caradoc first thing in the morning, the
moment he stepped into the Auror Department for work, was at least a little surprising.
"What kind of urgent meeting?" Caradoc asked, matching Crinkle's brisk pace as they marched into
a thin corridor adjoining the entrance to the Auror Department. "Do you know?"
The same polite smile. "I do not."
Caradoc frowned. "Okay."
Two men were ahead of them, standing still and expressionless. As Caradoc and Crinkle
approached, the two turned and smiled brightly.
"Caradoc, Propositus, fancy seeing you here," greeted the first man, brown haired and blue eyed.
"Hello, John," said Crinkle. He nodded to the other man, with gleaming white teeth and waxy
blonde hair. "How are you, Jack?"
"I am well," said Jack, flashing his bright teeth with a smile. "John, are you well?"
"I am well," said John.
"We are well, Propositus. Say, what brings you here?"
Crinkle inclined his head towards Caradoc. "Escorting Mr Dearborn to a meeting."
"Is it an urgent one?" asked John.
"It is."
"Then we'll come with you."
Crinkle nodded his head, showcasing his polite smile once again. Caradoc eyed the two as they
matched his and Crinkle's pace down the corridor, but he said nothing.
"So, how are you, Caradoc?" asked Jack, after a few seconds of silence but for the sound of their
footsteps.
"I don't recall ever meeting you before," said Caradoc, ignoring the question. "Either of you. How
do you know my name?"
"Everyone knows your name," said John cheerily, putting a hand on Caradoc's shoulder. Caradoc
shrugged it off, and John withdrew his hand so easily he might never have extended it in the first
place. "You're Caradoc Dearborn. Joined the Auror Department five years ago, at the age of
seventeen. Made quite a name for yourself very quickly, put away a lot of dangerous people. Then
of course, as if your reputation could get any more awesome, you teamed up with Ferox Goodman,
and the two of you were an instant force to be reckoned with. The pride of the Auror Department,
some say."
"Indeed they were," said Jack. "But then Goodman up and disappeared a few months ago, without
a trace. Quite mysterious. I don't suppose you know what happened to him, do you, Caradoc?"
"Stay down, Ferox," Caradoc called desperately.
Blood gushed. Bone protuded.
A whispering, wheezing breath.
With a flash of green light, the noise stopped.
"No," said Caradoc, his face impassive. "I haven't a clue."
All three men were looking at Caradoc. Their eyes were alert. Caradoc stared back, and a corner
approached, and when they took it the three men looked away finally. They each gave easy smiles,
and it was like they had left all the tension behind them.
"I hadn't thought so," said Jack lightly. "No one seems to know."
"Maybe he went on holiday," Caradoc offered.
Jack's smile became tight. "Maybe."
"We're here," said Crinkle.
Ahead of them was a metal door. Two Aurors stood guard in front of it, Acustus Proudfoot and
Hestia Jones. The two had only joined the department recently, and Caradoc had spent two days
showing them the ropes a few weeks back. They stood stiff, their backs straight - either a great
work ethic, or the tell-tale signs of nervousness.
Caradoc nodded to them. "Alright?"
Hestia's eyes flickered to him, to Crinkle, and then back to staring resolutely at the wall in front of
her. There was a bead of sweat on her forehead.
Neither of the young Aurors responded to him.
"They have strict instructions not to engage," explained Crinkle, waving a hand. The two moved
out of the way, and Crinkle beckoned Caradoc towards the door.
"Engage," Caradoc repeated slowly, not moving.
"Talk to you," said Crinkle. "To anyone, I mean. Strict orders."

Jack had taken a few extra steps. John stood in the direction they had just come, his shoulders
wide, his gaze wandering around the corridor innocuously, and Jack mirrored his stance on
Caradoc's other side. In front of Caradoc stood the two young Aurors, on either side of the door.
Beside him was Crinkle, who beckoned once more towards the door. "Your urgent meeting awaits,
Mr Dearborn."
Caradoc nodded. "Thank you."
Around him, each of the figures' hands drifted that little bit closer towards their wands. Caradoc
eyed them all, stone-faced. He had always found the calm before the storm to be-
"Caradoc Dearborn!"
A figure approached. All heads turned, watched a small man, red in the face, sprint towards them
looking harried.
"Who are you?" snapped Crinkle. "What are you doing here? The entrance is supposed to be
sealed! Leave at once."
Caradoc frowned. The entrance was sealed?
"I have an urgent message," huffed the small man, bending over and sucking in deep lungfuls of
air, "for Caradoc Dearborn." He held out a torn piece of parchment. "From Alastor Moody."
With a raised brow, Caradoc took the parchment. Read it.
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BOY? GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE
Caradoc looked up from the parchment. All faces stared at him. The small man was still panting.
The others seemed alert, their eyes probing Caradoc for any signs of imminent movement.
Crinkle's smile had run dry of politeness and now looked incredibly forced.
Crinkle opened his mouth-
"Stupefy," Caradoc yelled, and Crinkle flew into the wall. As his head smacked against the plaster,
wands were raised in a split-second all around Caradoc, and lights and yells filled the air.
Stunning spell missed, binding spell dodged. All he could see were flashing lights and weaving
bodies, and a stinging hex hit him on the forearm. Caradoc almost dropped his wand before
deflecting a body-bind curse and he shot three jinxes back, which were promptly dodged. Blue
light and white light and Caradoc blocked and whirled.
A purple light and a yellow light and Caradoc flicked his wand, and the walls ruptured and plaster
rained upon them all and, as one, after a brief lull as the figures scattered, their wands all raised
again. Smiling, Caradoc timed it perfectly.
"Protego!"
The spells of all his surrounding opponents bounced back at them, and they were hit by their own
jets of light. They all dropped to the floor. There was suddenly quiet.
"Oldest trick in the book," said Caradoc with a smirk, pocketing his wand.
The small man was on the floor too, having long since been taken out of the fight that he hadn't
even seemed to know was coming. Dust settled.
Caradoc leaned down, picked up the limp form of Acustus Proudfoot by the collar. "Enervate."
Proudfoot jerked awake, focused his gaze on Caradoc, and immediately started thrashing around,
trying to break free.
"Stop struggling."
"Get off me, Death Eater!"
Caradoc frowned. "Death Eater?"
"We all know what you are," spat Proudfoot. "Evil scum."
"Mate, I don't know what you're on about. I'm no Death Eater."
Proudfoot laughed. "You're lying. I saw the evidence with my own eyes in a pensieve. Someone's
memory of you, at the battle of Síla. You were wearing your fancy Death Eater robes."
Caradoc stared at him. "Oh."
"Yeah," sneered Proudfoot. "Oh."
"Oh, no," said Caradoc quietly.
"Yeah," said Proudfoot, less enthusiastically. "Oh, no."
"Look, mate. I'm on your side. I can't explain why-"
"Of course you can't."
"-but I'm not your enemy. And I don't want to hurt any of you."
Proudfoot looked around. "Well, you've done a great job so far."
"Look," said Caradoc through gritted teeth, "I don't- Oh, why am I bothering?"
He stunned Proudfoot again, and dropped him to the floor. He could hear footsteps from down the
corridor. With a long, pained sigh, Caradoc pocketed his wand and set off down the corridor at a
jog.
"If this is what I get for being on the good side," he muttered, "I almost wish I was a real Death
Eater."
There was an awkward air about the compartment, and James reckoned they could all feel it. Frank
and Alice were cuddled together in a corner. She was somewhat on the Head Boy's lap. Peter sat
between Marlene and Sirius, blissfully unaware of recent developments. James and Lily sat beside
each other. Their shoulders touched. Remus sat closest to the door, looking decidedly
uncomfortable.
"So, the break was fun," James tried loudly.
Mumbled responses.
"Yeah," said Lily, matching his tone. "Heaps of fun."

Alice and Frank weren't paying attention. Marlene and Sirius were looking anywhere but at each
other.
"It was alright," said Peter reasonably. "It's not like anything significant happened."
The rest of them stared at the ground.
"Remus," said Lily with a smile that was too bright, "how was your break?"
"Good," the boy said, eyeing the rest of the group with suspicion. "After midnight at the New
Year's party, I couldn't find any of you." They all looked at the ground with renewed interest.
"Eventually I just went home."
"I had stuff to do," James mumbled. "Chores and stuff."
"Me too," chimed in Lily.
"I was wasting my time," said Sirius matter-of-factly.
Marlene looked at him with a dropped jaw.
"Merlin," James said under his breath.
"Is that right, Black? Wasting your time?"
"Yes."
"Doing what, exactly?"
"You don't have to tell us," said Lily hurriedly.
"No," said Marlene. "I want to hear it."
"I don't think he should tell us," said James.
"Shut it, both of you. Tell us, Black."
"Why do you want to know so badly?" asked Peter, frowning.
"I'm interested in how he wastes his time," said Marlene with a clearly false smile.
"Everyone does it differently, right?" said Alice, joining the conversation. "I like to read a book."
"I play Quidditch," said Frank.
"Quidditch is never a waste of time," James snapped.
Sirius nodded. "I can confirm that I was not playing Quidditch."
"Great," said Marlene, glaring daggers at Sirius. "At least you know something."
"I regret speaking at all now," said Remus.
The door slid open.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

The teens all looked at the trolley lady, her ever-present, kindly smile on her lined face.
"I'll take a Chocolate Frog, thanks," said Remus quietly, passing her some Sickles.
"Anything else?"
"A Pumpkin Pasty for me, thanks," Lily mumbled.
"Of course, dear."
The rest of the train ride passed only with short, stunted passes at conversation.
"I guess this was bound to happen," said Lily. She turned back to look at James, who walked a few
paces behind her down the corridor.
"It was inevitable, looking back," James agreed.
"Do you think Black will try to win Marlene over?"
He shrugged. "Who knows?"
"It's not like he'll be able to, either way. Do you reckon he'll try anything dumb?"
James shrugged again. "Who knows?"
"Clearly not you," she chided. She turned back around to face forward. "What a mess. An
inevitable mess. This is what happens when a group of friends starts becoming romantically
involved with one another. Complete chaos."
He caught up with her and flashed her a smirk. "Are we romantically involved, Evans?"
She hid her smile well, and quickened her pace. "Who knows?"
He laughed from behind her. "And so the chase continues."
"And so it does. Now, how far are these kitchens? You better not have been lying when you said
you know where they are, Potter."
"Evans, would I ever lie just to spend time with you?"
"Indubitably."
"Indubitably indeed. I'd do just about anything to spend time with you."
She bit her lip and quickened her pace further. She would not let him see her blush.
"But I really do know where the kitchens are. We're just going the wrong way, that's all."
"What?"
She turned around, just in time to see him disappear down an adjoining corridor.
"I did say I'd do anything to spend time with you, didn't I?" came his teasing voice from down the
corridor. "Come along now, Evans. I'd hate for you to get lost."
Sirius tapped the map as James closed the dormitory door behind him. "How's Evans?"
"Same as always. Red haired. Rabid. You know."
Sirius smiled as James sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes. "I bet. Your dots on the map got
rather close throughout the night."
"That's… unsettling. Oi, Moony!"
"Yeah?" called Remus from the bathroom.
"Why didn't you ever raise the issue of privacy when we were making the map?"
"I did. I believe your response at the time was, Oh, shut it, Moony."
Sirius sniggered.
"Well," said James, "I think we should take another look at the matter."
"Overruled," said Sirius immediately.
"Overruled," came Remus' voice. "You need to deal with the consequences of your actions."
James looked at Peter, who was getting into his pyjamas.
"Sorry, James," said Peter. "It's already two to one."
"You can make it two to two!"
Peter smiled apologetically. "Sorry, James."
James threw his head back. "You always side with the majority when we take a vote, Wormtail."
"It's the smart thing to do," Peter reasoned.
"Well, not for me. I love uphill battles," said James. "Makes things fun."
"That explains why you're still stuck on Evans," Sirius chuckled. "It's an uphill battle for you that
will never end."
James smiled widely. "Is that right?"
"Well, yeah. I reckon so."
"Because," James continued, "you've just reminded me that there are a few things I need to catch
you boys up on…"
They all settled into their beds as James brought them up to speed on the events of the last few
days.
"You and Evans kissed?" Sirius exclaimed. "You kissed and you didn't tell me?"
"When should I have told you? When you'd just learned Marlene is engaged, and looked ready to
punch someone? Or when you were moping about it yesterday? Or when you were moping about it
this morning?"
James couldn't see Sirius from his bed and in the dark, but he knew he'd be glaring.
"I was not moping."
"More importantly," said Remus from his bed, "you kissed Lily, James?"
"What was Sirius moping about?" Peter whispered.
"Yeah," said James.
"I was not moping."
"We kissed. Then we went back to the party with Caradoc, and Lily left shortly after. I stopped by
her place the other day for a chat, actually."
"Did you kiss again?"
"No. But things were good. We raided the kitchens just now and had another chat. Things
are really good."
The boys were quiet for a few moments.
"Can you believe the position you're in right now?" Remus asked.
"No," said James immediately. "When she left the party, I ran to the bathroom and stared at myself
in the mirror for ten minutes. I didn't think it was real life."
Remus laughed.
"Do you reckon she likes you?" asked Peter.
James wrinkled his nose. "All evidence points that way."
"As far as ways to show someone that you like them go," said Sirius, "kissing them is probably
near the top of the list."
James nodded, as if the rest of them could see him. "That's what I reckon, too."
They were quiet for another few moments.
"So," said Peter eventually, "what next?"
"What next?" James repeated. "Mate… I have no bloody clue."
Breakfast was less awkward. Perhaps, thought Lily, all the group needed was time to acclimatize to
the fact that almost all of them were seeing one another in some shape or form.
Was she seeing James in some shape or form?
"I suppose," Lily said.
"You suppose what?" asked Marlene. "Pass me the butter, will you?"
"Just talking to myself," said Lily, handing her the butter dish. "So, you talked to Black yet?"
Marlene raised an eyebrow. "In the twelve hours since we got off the train? No."
"Will you?"
"In the one and a half years that we have left at Hogwarts?" she asked. "No."
"Come on," said Lily. She glanced two seats down, past Frank and Remus, to where Sirius was sat,
deep in conversation with James. "He looks to be in a better mood."
"He's frowning."
"Which is already an improvement on yesterday."
"Lily."
"Baby steps, Mar. Come on."
"You're talking as though I want him to be in a better mood. I don't care, honestly."
"I don't believe that."
"That's nice."
"I think you like him."
Marlene looked at her sharply. "So what if I do? What do you want me to do, really? I'm engaged,
Lily." She looked back down at her plate and stabbed a kipper with deadly force.
Lily looked at her friend sympathetically.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Sympathetically."
"I'm not."
Marlene gave an aggravated sigh.
"You like him," Lily said again after a few more seconds. "Don't you?"
"Lily, if you don't stop talking, I'm going to stab you with my fork."
Lily pressed her lips together tight.
With a furtive glance cast behind him every few steps, Caradoc tread slowly down the narrow Irish
street. Each footfall landed him several inches deep in snow. In the mere minutes since he'd been in
the neighbourhood, the snow had already covered him from head to toe. He was soaked.
That was to make no mention of his injuries. A gash on his bicep, some cuts to his face, what felt
like a dislocated knee, and some bruised ribs had been Caradoc's only companions over the night,
and though he wasn't one to complain when he felt under the weather, he certainly had to admit that
he had seen better days.
Another furtive glance behind him. Still no one. But they would come. He had learned these past
twenty-four hours that they always came. It frustrated Caradoc to no end that the Auror
Department only seemed to function competently when he was the one they were chasing. It was
so typical.
He walked up a floral pathway to the first house on the street, and knocked on the door. When it
opened, an elderly lady with glasses that magnified her eyes to the size of tennis balls poked her
head out. "Yes? Can I help you?" Her accent was Irish and friendly.
Caradoc managed a smile. "Hello. I'm a weary traveller-"
She took in his appearance and her eyes widened even further. "Weary indeed! Look at you!"
He grimaced. "Yeah."
"Come in, dear, come in. Let's get you some biscuits, how about that?"
"That's very kind of you," he said, stepping inside with relief. "But I only wish to use your
fireplace. I can't stay for long."
"Are you sure? I don't mind at all. Ever since my youngest got married it's been awfully quiet
around here. I'd love the company!" She closed the door and led the way to her sitting room. The
fireplace was already roaring, and Caradoc gradually felt warmth return to the tips of his fingers.
He rubbed his cheeks, getting the feeling back into them. "No, really, I'll have to be going soon. I
just need to use the fireplace."
She nodded understandingly. "Oh, if you must, dear. Just until you get yourself warm, is it?"
"Something like that." He approached the fireplace, stood in front of it, and it was like the flames
were caressing his face. Heavenly, after his trek through the snow. He hesitated and looked back at
her. "Actually, I will take some biscuits. A plateful, please."
She beamed. "Right away."
The moment she left the room, he pulled a small bag from his breast pocket. Inside was a fine
green powder. Caradoc opened up the bag, took out a fistful of the powder, and stepped closer to
the fireplace.
"Would you like tea as well, dear?" asked the lady, poking her head back in. She looked at the bag
of powder in his hands, and once again her eyes expanded like balloons. "What's that you've got
there?"
"This?" asked Caradoc, looking down at the bag and his fistful of powder. "This is… drugs."
Lily deviated between stirring the cauldron and chancing glances over to where he was sat with
Sirius. The two were barely paying attention to their work, which was nothing new to Lily.
"It's a disaster waiting to happen," said Alice from beside her. "Giving a bunch of teenagers the
means and the permission to brew love potions in class. Who thought that was a good idea? Really,
Lily, who?"
"Who knows," said Lily absent-mindedly.

"Every year it happens. Did you know that? Every year, Slughorn will tell his Sixth Years to brew
love potions, and they'll all giggle to each other about being able to smell one of their classmates in
their potion, and flirt with one another senselessly in front of the class. It fuels the gossip around
the school for days whenever it happens."
"Mhm."
"And for what? It serves no purpose other than to stir up our already hyper-active hormones, and
that's not even mentioning the fact that every year someone will knick some love potion, or some
Felix Felicis, and the whole school will go crazy. And the teachers are always so surprised,
wondering how on earth that happened. It's every year, Lily!"
Lily looked at Alice shrewdly. "Do you smell Frank in the potion, Alice?"
The blonde girl lost some of the gusto she spoke with, and there was a red tinge to her cheeks. "It
doesn't matter what I smell in it. I simply-"
Lily tuned her friend out, and took a deep whiff of the potion for herself. It didn't matter how basic,
overdone, or uninspired Alice made it out to be. She could smell James Potter in the Amortentia.
So what did that mean?
It was a love potion. Lily was perfectly prepared these days to admit to herself that she liked him.
But love?
Aside from its various other scents, the particular smell of her home, the fresh, papery smell of a
new book, and a specific scent of vanilla, the potion provided Lily with the overpowering, alien
scents of broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes, and the whiskey she had tasted on James' lips
back in Portugal while ringing in the new year.
"Are you listening to me, Lily?"
"No."
Could she love James Potter so soon after she'd started liking him? And how could she be sure of
the difference between the two?
"Do you smell Quidditch stuff in that potion?" asked Alice with a cheeky grin.
Lily looked at her sharply.
"You forget," said Alice, her eyes twinkling, "that James was my boyfriend for a little while there.
Always smells like Quidditch, that boy."
Lily had forgotten. Her best friend had dated Lily's- James Potter. She certainly didn't want to try
processing how this made her feel given recent developments.
"How," said Lily, torn between wanting to change the subject and her desire for an answer, "do you
reckon Amortentia qualifies something as 'love-worthy', in order for one to smell it in the potion?"
Alice wrinkled her nose and shrugged. "You're the Potions expert, not me. But I doubt there's a
proper answer for that one. Love is relative, isn't it? I've always loved chocolate cake, a lot of my
best memories are on my birthday, so chocolate cake is one of the things I smell in the potion.
I like pumpkin juice, but I don't smell it in Amortentia."
"Right," said Lily.
"That being said, the potion might also give us a whiff of something we like but might not
necessarily love. How is the potion to know? Maybe I just like chocolate cake."
"Hmm."
"It's simultaneously the most complicated, and the most simple thing in the world. As I said, it's all
relative."
"You're really not helping me a whole lot."
Alice gave her a knowing look. "Whatever you're smelling in that potion, think about it some more.
Getting within close proximity to the source might help."
"Alice…"
"Whatever it is that you smell," Alice said, looking like she was fighting off a grin. "For all I
know, it could just be pumpkin juice."
"Where are you now?" asked Dumbledore.
"Ireland," said Caradoc Dearborn, his face poking up through the embers of the fireplace. "I'm
borrowing a Muggle lady's fireplace, and she'll be back any moment now."
McGonagall stepped forward, feeling the urgency. "There is little time, then. We must know who
leaked the fact that you're a Death Eater without them being aware that you are a spy."
"I think I know who," said Caradoc. "Taureau Barkley."
"The man we suspect of working under Blithe?" asked Anton Windstrum, stepping forward beside
McGonagall. The three Professors bunched together in Dumbledore's study and peered down at
Caradoc's flickering features. "Why would he expose you if he's in league with the Death Eaters?
As far as he knows, you're on his side."
"I don't think it's accurate to say he's in league with the Death Eaters at all," said Caradoc. "I've
come across him a handful of times now. From what I gather, he's a wand for hire. A mercenary.
Aside from Blithe's direct orders, I'm assuming he does whatever he pleases."
"So you believe he has reason to work against you?" Dumbledore asked.
"Oh, I've given him plenty of reasons to work against me. It's simply a matter of whether or not he's
figured them out yet."
"We have to know for sure," said Dumbledore. "Whoever this person is, they did this through a
vial containing their own memory of you at the battle of Síla, marching with the Death Eaters,
alongside the message that you are a Death Eater. They placed this message in the Auror
Department the day before yesterday. This means we know where they were, and when they were
there. We must uncover their identity, and ascertain if this is a new enemy, or old."
"There's a charm we use to collect foot traffic data," said Caradoc. "There should be a record of all
who entered the Auror Department that day, and when they left. There's only one problem."
"Let me guess," said Anton with a grimace. "The records will be in the office of the Department
Head."
Caradoc nodded heavily.
"Emmett Fawley," said Dumbledore contemplatively. "This could prove problematic."
"Yeah," said Caradoc, wrinkling his nose in the fireplace. "Fawley is our number one suspect of
being Blithe, and we'll have to go through him."
"We can send Fleamont Potter," McGonagall suggested. "As Fawley's predecessor, he held that
same office mere months ago. I'm sure he can make some excuse to stop by and pick something
up."
"Not without Fawley peering over his shoulder," said Caradoc.
"I agree," said Windstrum. "We'll have to send someone Fawley will overlook. Someone with good
reason to be in that office, but who won't raise Fawley's guard."
"Who do you propose?" asked McGonagall.
"Fleamont Potter's son," said Anton, the ghost of a smile on his face. "James."
"No," said McGonagall immediately.
"That's not a bad idea, though," said Caradoc. "I worked with Potter briefly on New Year's eve. He
has a good head on his shoulders."
"How briefly?" McGonagall asked, her shoulders heaving with exasperation.
"James is more than capable, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly.
"He's a teenager, Albus. A student!"
"And all he must do is tell Fawley his father left something in that office, he will rummage about
for the records without Fawley being overly cautious, and then leave without raising any suspicion.
No danger at all."
McGonagall couldn't believe what she was hearing. "With all due respect, Headmaster, you've
never taught James Potter."
"Send him with another student, then," said Caradoc. "A responsible one. He's friends with the
Head Boy, is he not?"
"He is," said Windstrum slowly, "but we don't want to arouse suspicion. Sending the Head Boy
will make the two conspicuous. James Potter and Frank Longbottom will not go unnoticed
traipsing about the Ministry."
"His other friend, then. Black."
"Absolutely not," said McGonagall.
"Ah," spoke up Dumbledore suddenly, his face brightening. "I know exactly who to send James
with."
"Potter, we have to follow instructions," said Lily crossly.
London was busy at this time of day. People walking hither and thither, straightfaced workers,
excitable children and their hassled parents formed an endless flow of people bustling from street
to street. To Lily, it was a terrible place to try apparating from.
"It's so much faster, Evans. I doubt Dumbledore will care how we get into the Ministry."
"Potter, we are not allowed to apparate-"
"But we both know how to apparate."
"So? Neither of us have our licences. Apparition classes don't even start until next week." She
smiled politely at a passing business woman, and turned back to him. "Not to mention the fact that
it's impossible to apparate from here without being seen."
"Is that so?"
"Yes!" An alley approached on their right, and Lily saw James eyeing it. She narrowed her eyes at
him. "What?"
He nodded towards it. "What's that?"
"What's what?"
"That," he said, changing their course towards the alley. "I'm sure I saw…"
Lily sighed as he entered the alley, and she stood on the sidewalk to wait for him to come back.
When ten seconds passed, she poked her head in. "Potter?"
There was no response.
Biting her lip, she stepped in and-
A hand grabbed hers, space twisted and the air compressed, squeezed and tugged at her form, and
as quickly as it started, it stopped.
"Welcome to the Auror Department, Evans."
A bustling world of robed figures and marble walls, flying paper planes and owls,
and magic exploded around her. Beside her, holding her hand, was James Potter. And he looked
smug.
Lily snatched her hand from his grasp and smacked him on the chest as hard as she could.
"Don't you ever," another smack, "apparate me," and another, "without my permission," one more,
"again, Potter!"
He grinned, unfazed, and Lily pulled her arm back to smack him on the face this time, but he
turned on his heel and started walking. Fuming, she ran after him.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To Emmett Fawley's office. Dumbledore gave us instructions, afterall, Evans."
Lily fought to control her temper, and after a few seconds of walking beside him she trusted herself
to speak. "Splendid."
He looked at her, amused. "That's all you have to say?"
"That's all I have to say that won't get you sent to St Mungo's, Potter."
He smirked, and she wanted to smack him again. The Amortentia reckoned she loved this?
"Can I help you?" asked a bespectacled lady sitting behind a desk.
"We're here to see Mr Fawley," said James. "He's expecting us."
She checked a note on her desk and looked back up. "James and Lily?"
"That's us," said Lily, forcing a smile.
The lady nodded. "Someone will be along to-"
"Don't worry," said James, waving her off. "I know the way."
He set off at a brisk pace into the heart of the department, and Lily smiled awkwardly at the lady
before running to catch up to him. She didn't look back to see if the lady would protest. "Do you
really know the way?" she asked.
"Yeah. When it was my dad's office and not Fawley's, I would come by to visit all the time. I
wonder what he's done with the place… If it's true he's a Death Eater, this will likely be a very
different visit from my previous ones. You're up for a fight, right?"
She smiled wryly at him. "You of all people should know, Potter, that I'm always up for a fight."
He smiled back. "Glad to hear it."
They reached what must have been Fawley's office, as James knocked on it and entered without
waiting for a response. Inside was a neat little room, with a bookcase, a desk, and a straight-backed
wooden chair. All papers were stacked tidily, and the floor was spotless. Emmett Fawley, the man
from all the papers, looked up from his desk and raised his eyebrows. He had sharp features. His
dark eyes were piercing.
"Mr Potter. Mrs… Evans, I believe?"
Lily nodded.
"You are early. I wasn't expecting you for another-"
"Yeah," said James, ignoring him. "We got let out of class early. Hey, I'm just going to grab what
we came for and we'll head off, alright?"
Fawley gestured wide. "Be my guest. You're always welcome here. Your father was one of our
department's greatest, after all. What is it of his that you need to collect? Surely he could have
come to collect it himself rather than have his son travel from Hogwarts. I'd have loved to chat with
him."
"He has a wedding to attend in the Alps," James said disinterestedly, as he rummaged through
some files stacked away in the bookcase. "He left some of his own papers here."
"Papers? What kind?"

"Private," said James with a tone of finality.
Lily gaped at him, but Fawley nodded graciously. "Understandable. Where are your visitor's
badges, by the way?"
"Somewhere," said James, shrugging.
"You didn't apparate in, did you?"
James didn't respond. He didn't even bother looking up from the papers, and Lily was torn between
wanting to punch him again and apologize profusely to Fawley.
Fawley sighed. "Mr Potter, really. There is a process. You need visitor's badges. I should be
escorting you from the Ministry right now."
"Found it," said James happily, pulling a sheet of paper from a folder and stuffing the folder back
in the bookcase. He folded the paper and tucked it away in his pocket, before smiling at Fawley
and taking Lily by the arm. "Always a pleasure, Mr Fawley."
Fawley pursed his lips. "Likewise, Mr P-"
James pulled Lily from the room and closed the door behind them. He turned to grin at her. "Easy
as that."
Lily didn't know where to begin. "You- you're-"
"Brilliant?"
"You're insane, Potter. How could you do all that so casually?"
He shrugged. "Equal parts charm, confidence, and luck."
Lily could only shake her head. Whether for better or worse, he never ceased to amaze her.
And he was still holding her arm. She could smell him, and felt herself start to freeze up.
"Now, I know you just told me never to do this again, but-" the world twisted and distorted around
them, and suddenly they were back in the alley, "it really is much faster than the visitor's entrance."
Lily didn't care this time. She could smell him, and they stood close, and she could smell him.
Broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes. The boy really did always smell like Quidditch. The
scents tangled with Lily's frustrations and affections, her memories, her recollection of their kiss. It
all put Lily in the sky herself, flying hundreds of miles an hour, giddy and electrified. That was the
effect he had on her, especially at this proximity.
James removed his hand from her arm, and Lily was back on the ground. Wide-eyed, heart
pounding. She wanted to feel that again. "Now-"
Lily grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in, pulled his face to hers, and she kissed him, hard
and firm. He chuckled against her lips, and brought a hand up to her cheek. His other hand found
the small of her back, holding her, pressing her close.
Lily intensified the kiss. It was less feverish than their kiss on New Year's, more controlled and
deliberate. Each movement, every swish of a tongue and press of a hand, elicited a new wave of
emotion from Lily. She felt giddy, felt her knees weaken, and as their bodies pressed ever closer
against each other her mind grew more and more fuzzy.
Lily pulled back a little, but didn't leave his embrace. Took a breath, let her heartbeat steady. She
looked at him, their faces an inch apart. "This time we're both sober."
James smiled. His eyes were full of questions, and he asked what seemed to Lily as the most
important one first. "What time are we expected back at the castle?"
Lily bit her lip. "I reckon in time for lunch."
"Well, what do you say we eat lunch here, and then head back?"
"Potter," she said, grinning widely, "that's the smartest thing you've said all day."
James smirked and pulled away. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and together they started
walking. "Then clearly, you haven't been paying attention."
The two emerged from the alley and onto the busy street, crowded as always with-
They bumped into a man, who stepped back and looked at them. His skin was dark. He wore a
white suit with gold pinstripes, and perched on the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes, were a
pair of aviator sunglasses.
"You two," said Taureau Barkley, frowning a little.
James dropped his arm from Lily's waist, and the pair drew their wands in a flash.
"You," snarled James.
Around them, ordinary, every-day people continued going about their business, taking little notice
of the wizards and the witch, no clue how close they were to danger.
"I have no quarrel with either of you," said Taureau Barkley, his voice measured. "Put those away."
"Hey, Lily," said James lightly, "want to know whose name I saw on the paper we just took from
Emmett Fawley's office?"
The man's head tilted.
"Stop talking," Lily breathed.
"Taureau Barkley," James declared. "We know you're the one who leaked that Caradoc's a Death
Eater."
A small smile from the man. "And have you wondered yet why I didn't also leak the fact that he's a
spy on the Death Eaters? Because I know that, too."
James faltered.
"You all know I am under the employ of a Death Eater, I presume," Taureau Barkley continued. "It
might interest you to know that I have told no one of this discovery."
Lily frowned. "You're lying."
"It is true," he said. "Not a soul. You see, my quarrel with Dearborn is personal. He runs for his life
now only because I deem it so. Eventually, I will kill him. But you need not get involved. Put your
wands away, and no one will be hurt today."
Lily bit her lip. Slowly, she lowered her wand and looked at James. "Potter, put it away. We can't
fight him. Not here."
James didn't move.
"Potter, there are Muggles everywhere. Put it away now."
Looking frustrated, James lowered his wand too.
Taureau Barkley smiled, and nodded to Lily. "You are wise." And with that, he walked past them
as though he hadn't been interrupted at all.
Lily let out a slow breath, and looked at James. His eyes were downcast. "Merlin," she said,
nudging him. "That was-"
James whirled around and Lily watched in slow motion as he grabbed Taureau Barkley and
dragged him into the alley.
"Potter!" She darted into the alley and saw the two wrestling on the ground, their wands discarded
already. Lily pulled her own wand back out and levelled it at them. "Stop!"
They froze. The man had his forearm around James' throat. James' face was red, but slowly
regained color as the man loosened his grip a little. "Let go of him," Lily said, scooping up the two
discarded wands and tucking them into her pocket.
"I think not," said Taureau Barkley. "Not while you have a wand on me."
"This is not a negotiation," she said coldly.
"Oh, I know," he said. "I have all the power in this situation."
Lily frowned. "What?"
In one movement, the man lifted himself to his feet and held James' prone form in front of him. His
grip tightened once more around James' neck, and James made a strangled sound. "Lower your
wand," the man said quietly, "and roll mine along the ground to me. If I even suspect any ill
intentions from you, your friend gets his neck snapped."
Lily's blood chilled. James' face was red again, and panic rose up inside her, seizing her limbs. She
lowered her wand, and as soon as she did so the man loosened his grip once more, and James
gasped for air.
"My wand, please. Slowly."
Lily pulled the man's wand from her pocket, being sure to keep her movements slow. Her hands
were shaking. "Okay," she said, placing the wand on the ground. "Here it is." She gave it a gentle
push, and it rolled towards him.
Taureau Barkley stooped and picked it up, but as he did so James swung wildly from his grip.
"Potter, stop!"
The man moved impossibly fast, slamming James against the wall. Lily raised her wand again, but
the man raised his own, placed it right at James' neck, and she froze. "Put," he said quietly, "you
wand down."
"Let go of him first," Lily said, angry now. "We had a deal!"
"We had no deal. And your friend has exhausted the last of my patience. Now, I will not ask
again."
Furious, and still shaking, Lily lowered her wand one more time.
The man pocketed his own wand. Lily saw James' eyebrows furrow in confusion, and she begged
silently that he would simply be still. Then the man grabbed James' arm, pinned his hand in place
against a thin crack in the wall.
"What?" James mumbled.
Taureau Barkley pulled a knife from his pocket-
"No! Stop!"
-and plunged it through James' palm, right into the crack.
James screamed.
"Potter!"
Lily ran to him, the man took a step back, and James' voice cracked, was hoarse, and still he
screamed. He threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut, pain etched onto his face.
"Potter, I'll- I'll take it out, okay? Potter, listen to me-"
There was a crack. Lily glanced behind her quickly.
Taureau Barkley was gone.
She turned back to James. Muggles started streaming into the alley, having heard the commotion.
"What's all this?"
"Oh my God."
"What happened?"
"Potter," Lily said, wrapping her shaking fingers around the knife's hilt. "I'm going to take it out
now, okay? Potter, can you hear me? Potter!"
Through the open windows of the Hospital Wing, the melodic trills of birds accompanied by a light
breeze drifted in, floated around the room, and distracted James from being lectured by his
Transfiguration teacher.
"You had one job," McGonagall was saying, for what must have been the fifth time since she'd laid
her furious eyes on him. "Go to the Ministry, acquire the file. Not attack a trained killer in broad
daylight on Charing Cross Road!"
James had stopped arguing back, and simply reclined in his bed and pressed his lips together
tightly.
"I told Dumbledore it wasn't a good idea to send you. I told him!"
"I still got the job done," he grumbled.
"And you almost got yourself killed, almost exposed magic to the world, in the process! Do you
even understand how much you risked by trying to be the hero, Potter?"
"I wasn't trying to be the hero," James muttered.
"Then what were you trying to be? An idiot? Because you at least succeeded on that count!"
James glared at his bed sheets and said nothing.
"Dumbledore has finally agreed with me that it is foolish to send children on important missions."
"What? No, Professor, I'm capable-"
"Capable of getting yourself killed, perhaps. No, Potter. Until you and your friends finish your
education, you shall play no further role in this war."
James sat up sharply in his bed. "I'm already playing a role in this war! My friends' lives are
constantly in danger!"
"I understand that, Potter, but that isn't an excuse to throw your own life away."
"I can help!" James stood up, furious. "I made a mistake this time. Alright, I've learned my lesson.
That doesn't mean you have to punish me!"
"Potter…" McGonagall sighed. "If you view this as a punishment, you haven't really learned your
lesson at all." She turned and began to walk from the room, and James stared, his head pounding
and his hand aching. She paused and looked back when she reached the doors. "Given the
circumstances, you need not hand in your essay on human transfiguration. I do still expect to see
you in class, though."
It turned out that McGonagall was not the only one James found himself on poor terms with. From
the moment James and Lily had reached the Hospital Wing, she had suddenly started ignoring him.
She'd simply explained the situation to Madame Pomphrey and stalked from the room, wasting not
a second. James had initially thought that she simply had an aversion to blood, but when he turned
up for lunch he found that she had decided to pretend he didn't exist.
"Hello? Evans, can you hear me?"
Stone faced, she looked only at her plate and ate silently. James looked at Alice and Marlene,
frowning.
"She wants us to ignore you," Marlene explained.
"Marlene!" Lily turned to her and glared. "Really?"
"Oh, come on, Lily. You really wanted me to ignore him?"
"Yes."
"What are we, toddlers?"
"Hi, James," said Alice, smiling.

"Hey, Alice," said James, relaxing a little. Lily, at his voice, had gone back to eating in silence.
"Erm, do you know why Evans is ignoring me?"
"Yes," said Marlene.
"No," said Alice. "She hasn't explained a thing."
"Whose side are you on?" Marlene whispered.
"Sanity's," said Alice.
"Are you sure?" Marlene raised an eyebrow. "He is your ex-boyfriend, after all."
"Quite sure."
Marlene turned back to James. "Clearly, you've done something stupid and Lily's cross with you."
"Is that what this is about, Evans? You're mad at me about earlier?"
"I was right?" asked Marlene, grinning. "Oh, I am good."
"It wasn't that hard," said Alice. "What else could it have been?"
Marlene shrugged. "I don't know. Hey, Potter, does it have anything to do with why your hand is
all bandaged up?"
"Um," said James. Lily's eyes were on his hand now, but she said nothing. "Most probably."
"He punched someone," Marlene told Alice. "Really hard."
Alice shook her head. "I don't think that's it."
"Lily," said Marlene seriously, "did James punch you?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Hey, do you two reckon you can let me talk to Evans alone?"
Marlene and Alice looked at Lily, who, after a few more seconds of staring at her plate, shook her
head firmly. The two looked back at James apologetically.
"Alright," he sighed. "I guess I'll see you lot in class."
Not in class, not in the corridors, and nor in the Common Room would Lily look at or speak to
James. It frustrated him to no end. He would approach her, talk to her, and she would maintain her
position that he did not exist. The worst time over the next few days was when she had walked past
James and Sirius in a corridor and nodded to the latter, saying, "Black," before continuing on her
way.
"I tell you, Padfoot," James said as they walked down the stairs to the Entrance Hall, "it's like
being in Fifth Year again, except worse. At least then she yelled at me."
"Women," said Sirius gruffly. "Waste of time, if you ask me."
"Right," said James slowly. "You talked to Marlene recently?"

"Why would I?"
"Because you're still friends, Padfoot."
"I don't want to be her friend."
"Right," said James again. "And you think this is a mature reaction?"
"It's the most mature reaction she's going to get from me, I'm afraid."
They entered the Great Hall, and James sighed. "We make a fine pair of prats, don't we?"
"It's one of the many things we excel at, my dear Mr Prongs."
Most of their year level was already assembled. Ahead of them all, standing atop the stairs to the
teacher's table, was an elderly wizard with blue robes and a long beard. He was in the middle of
what seemed like a lengthy speech, judging from the dazed expressions of their classmates.
"-your will to be in that space will manifest into the power to be in that space. From there, it is a
simple matter of deliberation, and then," with a crack, the man appeared behind James and Sirius at
the back of the crowd - the two jumped and turned to him awkwardly - and the man smiled, "just
like that, you apparate."
At his big finish, the sixth years looked to the back of the room and clapped half-heartedly. James
spotted Lily among them, who stared resolutely at the man.
They were all then given wooden hoops, and the simple instruction to apparate into those hoops.
James and Sirius found Remus and Peter in the middle of the Great Hall, and as the rest of their
year went about trying to apparate, the four of them relaxed, for once not seeking any attention by
going and apparating on their first attempts.
They, of course, had long since mastered the skill.
"I haven't," said Peter. "I haven't mastered the skill."
"Just relax, Pete," said Sirius. "We'll teach you later."
"I think Peter should work on it now," said Remus. "In a controlled environment, with
supervision."
"Ah, Remus, don't be such a Prefect."
James looked across the Great Hall to where Lily, Marlene, and Alice stood in front of their hoops.
Alice and Marlene wasted no time in apparating into their own hoops, which was received by
applause from the old man and some of the students. Around the room, only Snape and two
Ravenclaws had also managed the feat. Lily, however, seemed to be perturbed. She stood in front
of her hoop, frowning at it.
She knew how to apparate. James had seen her do it. So what was wrong?
"Hey," James said to his friends. "Is it just me, or is Evans having trouble apparating for some
reason?"
"James, let her be," said Remus with a sigh.
"No, really. I think something's the matter."

"Who cares?" said Sirius. "It's not like she would want your help, anyway."
"Oi."
"It's true."
"It is true," said Remus apologetically.
James looked at Peter, who wore an identical expression to Lily, frowning at his hoop.
"Yeah," James said finally. "Alright."
And so the weeks passed, and not much changed. Lily's birthday came and went. She spent it
solely with Marlene and Alice, and James didn't see much point in buying her a gift given that she
would almost certainly throw it in the fireplace.
As more weeks continued to go by, her efforts to completely ignore him diminished somewhat. She
had now spoken to him a total of six times. A handful of those had been things like "pass me the
butter", followed closely by, "thank you". There had been one "excuse me" in the corridor, which
had really made James' day. The sixth had been a "bless you" after James had sneezed. Lily had
realized it was James who had sneezed, and colored quickly before averting her gaze.
And still, Lily couldn't apparate.
"There must be something wrong," said James during their fifth apparition class. "We know she
can do it. Why is she struggling?"
"I'll grant you," said Remus, watching her, "it is odd that she still hasn't managed it. Lily, of all
people."
"Do you think I should-"
"I think you should do nothing, James. She'll work it out."
"And when do you think she'll stop ignoring me?"
Remus hesitated. "When she first started, I thought it would last a day. Perhaps a week. That's how
it's always been with you two. Hot, then cold, then hot again. But now… I don't know. She
must really hate when you get into fights."
James grimaced. "I'm not sure that's all it is."
Remus shrugged. "I suppose you can try talking to her, then. At least get an answer of some sort."
"And why would she choose now to start talking to me? I've tried a million times."
"She still might not," said Remus. "I don't know. But you have a marvellous track record for not
giving up when it comes to her. Work your magic."
James worked his magic the next week.
It was ten minutes before their next apparition class, and the Marauder's Map had told him exactly
where to find her. The weeks spent with absolute minimal contact with her had been torture. To go
from being closer than they had ever been before to their current stalemate was the worst part sort
of sentence for James. He had seen her smile from across the room, but when it wasn't at him,
when she wasn't laughing at something that he had said, it simply didn't feel the same, didn't make
James as happy and fulfilled as he knew it could.
He missed talking to her, laughing with her, arguing with her, and simply being around her.
So he found Lily in the library, packing her things into her back, presumably about to make her
way to the Great Hall.
"Evans," he said, stepping forward, "we need to talk."
She had looked up at his voice, and swiftly looked back down when she saw him.
"Come on. It's been over a month. Can I at least know why you're ignoring me?"
She swung her bag over her shoulder and started walking. James followed.
"Fine. Don't talk. I'm still going to annoy you, though."
A sigh escaped from her lips, and James grinned.
"Right. Now, I'm going to try to understand what the problem is here. You're angry because I got
into a fight, and-"
"You think that's why I'm angry?"
Lily had stopped walking, and James stopped beside her. They were in the corridor outside the
library by then, and James had to stop himself from beaming as a result of the longest sentence she
had spoken to him in weeks.
"Isn't it?"
"No," she said, still not looking at him. "It's not even that you ignored me telling you not to do
anything just so you could play the hero."
"I wasn't-" James caught himself and let out a breath. "Okay. If not all that, then what?"
"You were injured, Potter. Stabbed through the hand."
"Yes, I remember."
"I was angry because I was scared. When I saw-" Lily stopped, and breathed heavily. "Look, I
haven't enjoyed ignoring you anymore than you enjoyed being ignored."
"I doubt that very much," he muttered.
"After that day, I just needed some time to come to terms with… a few things."
"Like what?"
"I'll tell you another time."
"Another time? Evans, how about right-"
She stepped forward, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him mid-sentence. Strong and
controlled was the kiss, and James could have fainted from the overload of sudden emotions and
thoughts. Confusion to relief, surprise to bliss. He had known he'd missed her, but it wasn't until
then that he could truly quantify just how much. His arms around her waist, and the sweet smell of
her shampoo and body-wash, vanilla and honey, the perfection of Lily Evans in his arms. She was
more than he deserved, yet here she was.
She pulled back, after what could have been anywhere from a minute to an hour, and smiled. "You
are officially forgiven for being a prat."
"You've still explained very little," he mumbled, "but consider me grateful."
Lily walked with him to the Great Hall, and she left him with his friends. Alice and Marlene
watched Lily with raised brows, having seen them walk in together, but Lily ignored them.
The wooden hoop was in front of her.
Destination.
She could smell him.
Determination.
Broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes. The boy really did always smell like Quidditch.
Deliberation.
-her knees weakened, and as their bodies pressed ever closer against each other-
Lily closed her eyes, heard the crack, opened them. She was in the hoop.
"Yes," cheered Alice, hugging her.
"Finally," said Marlene. "What took you so long?"
Lily knew exactly what.
Across the room, the messy haired boy grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up. She gave him the
middle finger in return, and he sniggered before turning back to his friends.
He probably didn't know the full effect ignoring him had had on her. It was that smell. That stupid
smell, and that stupid potion that had done it.
Then the idiot had gone and apparated with her, all while she breathed in his damn Quidditch-
scent. It had been a problem waiting to happen.
And then there was her revelation.
Getting stabbed in the hand wasn't a mortal wound by any means. It shouldn't have affected her the
way it did. But as she stood in that alley, seeing him in that pain, hearing him scream, she had
felt… felt a certain way that she never wanted to feel again. Ever. It had been worse than if she had
been the one to get stabbed.
What is love? Lily had always wanted to know. How could one ever know? What was the test?
Was there a metric? Could such a thing be measured?
The question had plagued her since that day in Potions. What she'd smelled had frightened her to
her core at the time, only for her to then feel frightened, truly frightened, that day in London, upon
which Lily's question was answered. Lily knew what Amortentia had known.
She loved him.

To Seize a Chance
"I see you've run into a familiar problem."
Lily shook herself and looked at Alice inquisitively. "What do you mean?"
"You know." Alice nodded to further down the Gryffindor table, where the Quidditch team sat
eating breakfast together. "Him."
Lily didn't need further clarification. Him could only be one person. "What about him?"
The dark haired Ravenclaw girl sitting next to James Potter threw her head back and let out a peal
of laughter.
"You know exactly what."
"I really don't."
"James is popular. Ridiculously popular, in fact."
Lily pressed her lips together.
"Don't worry, I was in the exact same situation you've now found yourself in when I was dating
him."
"I'm not dating him."
Alice seemed not to hear her. "It's not easy, I know, to have to watch girls throw themselves at him.
To be jealous is only natural."
"I'm not jealous."
A blonde Hufflepuff girl waved to James as she walked past him, her hand brushing his shoulder.
Lily's fists clenched.
"And I'm going to do you a favor," Alice continued. "I can tell you exactly which girls to watch out
for, and which ones you can simply disregard."
"I don't care," Lily said a tad weakly, hoping her friend would ignore her again.
"Now listen closely," said Alice without missing a beat. "You see that dark haired one sitting next
to him? That's May Harper, a Fifth Year who's been flirting with him non-stop for over a year, but
James never gives her the time of day. You can dismiss her completely."
Lily made a note in the back of her head.
"You see the blonde girl who just waved to him? Clarabelle, Hufflepuff. James pretty much
ignores her. The girl staring at him from further down the table over there? The one with the
glasses? Kate Bingsley. She may as well not exist for all he cares."
Lily raised an eyebrow. "I feel like you're trying to make a point."
"I am. My point being, James doesn't care about any of those girls. He cares about you. And, quite
briefly of course, me."
"Right."
"So don't let any of it bother you, Lily. There's nothing to worry about."
"Hm," was all Lily said in response.
She wanted to give no indication that she cared in the slightest about any of it. Though being in
love with James Potter was no longer beneath her, jealousy certainly still was. The last thing she
wanted to broadcast to others was the full extent to which she'd fallen for the sodding boy.
Despite herself, though, she felt better.
A red-headed girl came up behind James, then. She gave him a hug, said something in his ear, and
he laughed. She said one more thing and squeezed his shoulder before walking off.
Alice winced and swore under her breath. "I forgot about her."
"Who?" said Lily, perhaps too quickly.
"The one girl who you actually might need to fight off. Rose Fawcett - she's the cousin of Amelia
Fawcett, Frank's ex."
"That family," muttered Lily, watching the girl walk to the Slytherin table and sit.
"Indeed."
"So why do I have to fight- erm, why do you think I have to fight her?"
Alice hesitated. "She and James have, shall we say, a history."
"Right," said Lily. "But I'm sure that's not uncommon."
"Actually, the specific history they have is the kind that you can only ever share with one person."
Lily frowned and waited for her to elaborate.
"No? You're still not getting it?" Alice sighed. "Look, James should really be the one to tell you
this, but he and Rose…"
Lily's eyes widened. "Hold on, are you talking about sex?"
"Thank you," said Alice, looking relieved. "Yes, I am."
"Potter's had sex?"
"Well, yeah," said Alice, frowning like it was obvious.
"With Rose Fawcett…" Lily looked at the expression on Alice's face and froze. "Wait, Alice, you-
while you and Potter were together, did you… you didn't…?"
Alice looked down and opened her mouth.
"Ladies," said Sirius Black loudly, dropping down beside Lily. "It's the morning of a Quidditch
game. You should look more excited!"
Later, Alice mouthed to Lily.
Lily nodded, and looked at Sirius. "Black. How are you?"
"Grand, thank you. Gryffindor is going to absolutely trollop Slytherin."
"You think so?" asked Alice.
Sirius gawped at her. "My dear Ms Prewett, could it ever be put to question? Of course we will."
Then he looked at Lily and winked. "Your first time watching a Quidditch game while being one
of James' play-things. How do you feel?"
"I am not one of Potter's play-things," Lily spat. "Nor do I much care about the game."
"Ah, you will," said Sirius dismissively. "All of you do, when the moment comes."
"All of who?" asked Lily. "What moment?"
"When the legion of girls at James' beck and call watch his Quidditch games, their hearts are in
their mouths. Every push and every shove he takes up in the air elicits gasps from them. And
Merlin forbid the moment a bludger strikes. You'll be close to passing out, Evans."
Lily's jaw dropped in offence, and she looked to Alice for solace.
"He's got a point," said Alice apologetically.
"Alice!"
"Face it, Evans," Sirius continued. "You're going to be one of those girls who goes running onto the
field when James is injured, screaming his name like a maniac."
Lily shook her head resolutely. "No."
"Then you're going to sit with him all night in the Hospital Wing while he sleeps, and you'll be the
first thing he sees when he wakes up."
"No," she said again.
"It's going to be adorable."
"It does sound quite cute," Alice admitted.
"Alice, stop agreeing with him!"
"Sorry, Lily. The two of you are just too romantic for your own good."
Fuming, Lily folded her arms. "Bugger the both of you."
Watching Gryffindor absolutely trollop Slytherin was one of the most painful things Antonin
Dolohov had ever had to endure. In the first hour of the game, Slytherin was down forty to one
hundred and sixty. It was unheard of.
He signalled to Madam Hooch for a timeout and waited for his team to gather around him.
"What's wrong, Captain?" asked Travers once they were together.

Mulciber glared at Travers. "We're down by one hundred and twenty points. That's what's wrong."
"I was just asking him a question."
"Don't ask dumb questions."
"He has a point, though," said Wilkes. "What is wrong? Why are we losing so badly?"
Now that they were all there, looking at him, Dolohov didn't know what to say.
"Could one of the Gryffindors have snagged some Felix Felicis?" asked Rosier. "I know there's a
batch going around after Potions last week."
"They must have," cursed Travers. "Bastards!"
"No," said Mulciber. "Potter's not the type."
"You in love with Potter, then?" sneered Travers. "He's too honourable, is that it?"
"Too prideful," Mulciber said. "He'd sooner forfeit the match than cheat."
"Sounds like you're in love with him," Travers sniggered.
"Do you want a go, Travers? Right now, I'll wring you out in front of the whole school." Mulciber
pulled his wand out. "Go on!"
"Put that away," snapped Avery. "We need to focus. Dolohov, you called this timeout. Say
something."
Dolohov looked away from them, to where the Gryffindor team was huddled on the far side of the
pitch. "Something is wrong," he said eventually. "We're not this bad. I know we're not this bad."
"Thanks, captain," said Wilkes.
"You know what I mean."
"I don't think we're this bad either, captain," said Travers.
Dolohov ignored him. "I don't know what's going on, or how this is happening. All I know is I
want to knock that smug expression right off of Potter's face."
From the stands, Lily smirked at the look on James' face as Hooch blew her whistle and the
Gryffindor team broke apart to resume play. Finally, after all these years, she had been broken. She
enjoyed seeing him being arrogant.
"You know, Evans," said Sirius, "the developments of this year have been quite surreal. I never
thought I'd watch a Quidditch game with you."
"Surreal is one way to put it," said Lily. "Unfortunate is another."
He looked at her, then turned to his other side.
"Oi, Moony," she heard him whisper. "Is she this mean to you when you hang out?"
"No."
"I thought not. Is she perhaps in a bad mood?"
"I think you're just annoying, Padfoot."
Lily gasped.
Alice nudged her, smirking. "That bludger came quite close to him just now, eh?"
"Really?" asked Lily, trying and failing to convincingly feign ignorance. "I didn't notice."
"Hm."
James was remarkably good at flying. As untrained as Lily's eyes were, she had still figured that
out quite quickly. His weaving and rolling, quick turns and jarring speeds, were unmatched by any
of the other specks in the sky. Granted, all she could really make out a lot of the time were specks
in the sky.
"Here."
Lily paused her squinting up at the clouds to look at Sirius, who held a contraption out to her.
"Take my Omnioculars. You'll be able to actually see what's going on."
"I can already see what's going on," said Lily, making to turn away again.
"Yeah? Then what's going on?"
Lily paused and turned back. "Potter just scored, there was a timeout, and now he's flying around
looking smug."
"That was two minutes ago."
"He still looks smug though."
"Can you see him?"
"I just know it."
"Take the Omnioculars, Evans."
She pressed her lips together and stared at him imperiously.
"For Merlin's sake," said Sirius. "Moony, give these to Evans, will you?"
Remus took the modified and charmed binoculars from Sirius and passed them over Sirius to Lily.
"Thank you, Remus," Lily said primly, taking them and holding them up to her eyes.
She heard Remus snigger. "Someone's not a fan of you, Padfoot."
"I'm picking up on that," Sirius muttered. "Stubborn about it, too. She and James are perfect for
each other, you know."
Lily didn't let herself blush at hearing that. She was getting rather good at controlling the color of
her cheeks now, due to how often the need to do so arose. At this point she was a master of it.
"You're blushing," Alice whispered.

Lily ignored her. Up in the sky, James did indeed still look smug. He was saying something to
Frank by the Gryffindor hoops, and the two were sniggering.
"It's quite neat," Alice said, "that our boyfriends are good friends. Don't you think?"
Lily lowered the Omnioculars and fixed Alice with a stare.
"Before you say he's not my boyfriend," Alice continued with a roll of her eyes, "let me finish my
point, and then we can go back to your pretend world where two people can kiss and love each
other yet not be together."
"It's complicated," Lily muttered.
"Anyway, as I was saying..."
Lily lifted the Omnioculars again and went back to watching the game, while Alice began to
outline how fascinating she found it that the boys with which her and Lily were involved were
friends, and what it might signify on a deeper level about the two girls and how much they had in
common and how compatible the-
The Quidditch game was far more interesting - a thought which Lily had never expected to run
through her mind. She suspected Alice was bringing James up so often these days to try and
prompt or steer Lily's mind towards, well… James. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, as even
though Alice was no longer dating the Quidditch captain, the girl was still awfully loyal to him in
some regards. Theirs was a peculiar friendship. So too, Lily supposed, was her own friendship with
James.
"Are you enjoying my Omnioculars?"
Lily continued to ignore Sirius Black. Even if she did have the patience to deal with his seemingly
infinite wellspring of energy, there would be no reason for her to do so. She did not need to get
along with James' friends, and Lily would know that she had well and truly fallen from grace when
she could say that she 'got along' with this particular friend of his. Besides, she already got along
with Remus perfectly. And, as Alice was still pointing out in Lily's other ear, she got along with
Frank, too.
"Just think, Lily, if you and James get together before Valentine's Day we can all go on a double
date. Wouldn't that be nice?"
Lily pondered this - biting the bullet and going out with James on Valentine's Day, a week away…
What was stopping her? At any rate, it would make all those other girls who insisted on trying to
spark his interest go away. Hopefully.
"If you turn the dial on the right lens, you can zoom in further. And if you twist it back, it makes
everything turn blue! Pretty cool, right? Did you do it? Did you make it all blue?"
The thought of other girls and James stirred the already restless horde of angry buffaloes in Lily's
stomach. She couldn't bear to think of it - it was wrong.
"It can make everything green, as well. Keep twisting the dial… Have you done it yet? I can't tell.
Let me know when you do it."
And the revelation that James had been having sex with these girls! It made Lily feel ill. Granted,
she only knew of one girl so far. Or at least, Alice had only confirmed one girl so far. And Alice…
"Promise me you'll think about it, Lily. James has had to wait long enough, after all."
"There's also a kaleidoscope feature on the left lens, if you want to give that a go. Do you want to
give that a go? Go on, give it a go."
She tuned them both out. She had come to this game to watch James, and watch James she would.
He had scored the lion's share of Gryffindor's points thus far, and his cocky grin grew wider after
each lightning-fast dash to the Slytherin hoops. Lily smiled once more at the look on his face.
James had the Quaffle tucked under his arm. She watched him dodge Evan Rosier's attempt to
swipe it from him, bolt right past Mulciber, and bear down on the Slytherin hoops. His shot was
clear. He wound his arm back, Quaffle in hand, and threw it clean through the far right hoop - he
scored! James turned his broom back, his smirk brash, his fist pumping the air, and Lily gave a
whoop of joy, grinning from ear to ear.
Dolohov rammed into James' broom from the side. James jerked upon collision, and his body was
thrown from the broom. Dolohov sped onwards, leaving James falling, dropping, speeding towards
the bone-shattering ground below.
The Omnioculars fell, dropped, sped to the ground and smashed, but Lily was already at the end of
the aisle, and then she was sprinting down the stairs of the stands. Mind racing, body racing down
those stairs, and still James fell. Lily's heart was pounding faster than it ever had, each break
between beats shorter than the beat itself.
Please, please, please, please, please.
She had no trouble seeing his figure now. He had his wand out, trying to wave it. He didn't have
enough time, he was too close to the ground, he was going to-
James yelled something and the air below him seemed to grow thicker to Lily's eyes, his descent
slowed, not nearly enough but it slowed, and when he hit the ground he didn't splatter all over it,
but rather fell hard, flat, and then he was still. It was like a pancake being thrown onto a pan.
Lily reached the pitch and ran across the grass, feeling like her heart might suddenly implode, for it
couldn't keep up anymore. She was barely breathing.
The rest of the Gryffindor team had gotten to him first, and was huddled around him. Lily barged
through. James was spread-eagled on the grass, his glasses fallen by his head, the lenses smashed.
Lily wanted to fall down beside him. She was reminded of the London alley where she had seen
him scream as a knife went through his hand. Seeing him in pain hurt her.
McGonagall barged through beside Lily and conjured a stretcher in all the time it might take one to
blink. "Longbottom, help me get him on this."
"Right."
Lily watched Frank and McGonagall levitate James onto the stretcher, and shook herself once he
was strapped on. "I'm coming with you."
McGonagall frowned at her. "He's going to the Hospital Wing, Ms Evans."
"Yeah, I know."
"Professor," Frank said, looking like he wanted to hurry this along, "I imagine she wants to be by
his side until he wakes up, and I don't fancy trying to change her mind."
McGonagall looked at Lily incredulously.
Lily nodded, her face set. "I'm not leaving him."
"Right," said McGonagall, shaking her head. "As you wish, Ms Evans. Though you'll have to make
your case to Madam Pomfrey. Now help me get this poor boy to the Hospital Wing."
James felt his entire body ache, and cracked his eyes open. A blurry face looked down at him,
smiling.
James smirked, rubbed his eyes. It hurt to move his arms, but he wanted to see her. "Alright,
Evans?"
Antonin Dolohov's smile grew wider. "Not bad, thanks."
A fist.
Blinding light and a sickening crunch as Dolohov punched James on the nose, and James cried out
in pain. Tears filled his eyes. He couldn't see again, couldn't think from the pain but felt blood
trickle down to his lips, a little in his mouth. He tasted it and gritted his teeth. Rubbed his eyes
again and opened them wide.
Dolohov had stepped back, watching him now with a satisfied smirk.
James pushed himself up in his bed, winced at a searing pain in his chest, abdomen, and the centre
of his spine, and he fixed Dolohov with a look exuding the utmost hatred. "Dolohov."
"Alright, Potter?"
James wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his hospital gown. He looked at the blood
and looked back at Dolohov. "You pushed me off my broom."
A nod. "I did."
"Have you been expelled yet?"
"No. And I won't be. I was already flying towards you while you had the Quaffle, you see, and by
the time you had thrown it it was too late. I couldn't correct my course-"
"You had plenty of time," James snapped.
"Yes, the rest of the school seems to think so too. But Madam Hooch had to abide by the rules, and
the rules technically don't see that kind of collision as a violation as long as it's accidental. Which it
was, of course."
James snorted. "Of course. So you haven't gotten in any trouble?"
"Oh, McGonagall tried expelling me, don't you worry. However, she had very little grounds on
which to do so. I haven't even gotten a detention."
"What do you want, Dolohov?" asked James finally. "Why are you here?"
"I'm here to make a point." Dolohov stepped closer to the bed, his satisfied expression becoming
menacing. "I don't fancy being played for a fool. Somehow, you cheated."
James frowned. "What?"
"Play dumb, if you want. I don't care. Perhaps you are not even aware. It doesn't matter."
"Aware of what?"
"Someone sabotaged our game. Cheated, so that you would win."
James stared. "Dolohov… I'm brilliant at Quidditch. I don't need to cheat to win."
Dolohov punched James in the chest, and James grunted as pain lanced through his torso, as bones
that already felt shattered pushed into each other and seemed to poke at his insides.
"Watch what you say, Potter. You are at my mercy, and I've charmed the room to be soundproof."
James entered into a coughing fit, and when he stopped he looked at Dolohov disbelievingly. "Are
you trying to get expelled?"
"You won't tell any teachers about this," said Dolohov dismissively. "You're much too prideful. In
the same vein, I don't think you had a personal hand in whatever foul play was conducted on our
game. I respect you that much, at least. But someone cheated for you. That is indisputable, and I
will get to the bottom of it."
"Dolohov," said James, grimacing through the pain, "maybe you're just awful at Quidditch."
Dolohov smiled coldly and placed a hand to James' sternum.
James waited for whatever torture Dolohov had planned next.
Then he screamed.
"Oh, Lily, cheer up," said Alice. "Madam Pomfrey was never going to let you stay with James all
night."
Lily glared at the dying fireplace, and sat up straighter in her armchair. "Well, she should have. I
don't feel right about leaving him. I know he'll be fine by himself, but still, I should be there."
The Common Room was otherwise empty, and the two girls had been up for quite some time.
Seeing Lily's stoic expression, Alice sighed and got to her feet. "You'll see him in the morning.
Now, I'm going to bed. I don't suppose you're coming?"
Lily shook her head.
"You're going to fall asleep in your chair by the fireplace?"
Lily nodded.
"Okay, then. Goodnight."
"Night," Lily mumbled.
She continued staring into the fire as Alice's footsteps moved to the staircase. Her thoughts crashed
into one another, each fighting to be foremost in her mind, and one of them won the race to be
dwelled on.
"Alice?" called Lily, looking away from the fireplace at last.
Alice paused on the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitories, and turned back.
"Yeah?"
"Did you and James ever have sex?" Lily asked bluntly.
The girl's eyes widened momentarily, and she hesitated. "Look…"
"Just tell me."
Alice stared at her, and for a few seconds Lily thought she wouldn't answer, but then she simply
said, "No. We didn't."
Lily surveyed her sternly. "Are you sure?"
"Lily!" Alice looked affronted. "Of course I'm sure! I wouldn't lie to you about it."
Lily relaxed then, and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. My mind's all over the place right now."
"Look," said Alice, looking like she wanted to put an end to this particular topic of conversation
between them for good, "I think you should talk to James about this. Not because we did anything,
but because he'll be able provide further insight and context that I'm not sure I can give you. At
least not in the way you seem to be looking for."
"Right," said Lily. She paused then, and grimaced at her friend. "Sorry for being weird."
Alice smirked, rolled her eyes, and turned again to walk up the stairs. "I dated your soulmate, Lily.
It would be weird if it wasn't weird."
Frank frowned at Alice as they walked side by side one evening after classes. "You used that word,
though? You called him her soulmate?"
"Yeah," said Alice obviously. "Do you not think they're soulmates?"
"I do, in a way," said Frank, frowning at the ground. "I'm just not sure how much stock I put into
the idea of it."
"Of what?"
"Soulmates."
Alice was quiet for a few moments. "Oh," she said eventually.
It was cold out. The grass was dewy. There were no other students on the grounds with them, as
with most of the snow gone no one had much incentive to brave the cold weather anymore,
especially not for whatever mucky, powdery snow was left.
"What?" said Frank, when he reckoned she'd been quiet for too long.
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
Alice tilted her head. "I believe in soulmates. I think everyone has that one person who, in every
way, is perfect for them."
Frank grimaced. "I mean, I get it. It sounds romantic at face value, but I just sort of just see it as
depressing."
"Depressing?" Alice repeated confusedly.
"What if you never meet that one person? Or they're with someone else, so you never get a
chance?"
"Then they're not your soulmate."
"So you're saying we have to meet our soulmate at some point?"
"What? How'd you get to that?"
"Think about it. If our soulmate, to you, is not someone we'll never meet, that means it is someone
we will meet."
"Well, sure, if you use a double negative."
"But that's what you're getting at, isn't it? You're saying everyone meets their soulmate eventually."
"Well," Alice hesitated, "perhaps not everyone. Some people might die early, or simply get
unlucky and never meet their soulmate."
"But for the most part?"
"For the most part, everyone has that person who is made just for them. And everyone gets a
chance, at some point, to be with that person. It's about making the most of that chance."
Frank wrinkled his nose. "I don't know. I feel like this whole fairy tale idea of soulmates and
people who are 'made for us' overshadows our free will to make choices. I don't see that as
romantic at all."
Alice looked down. "Maybe not."
"But," he said, seeing her face and stopping to take her hand, leaning close to her, "I'm glad we
didn't miss our chance."
Alice bit her lip, seeming like she was trying to fight back a smile. "You're dumb."
Frank grinned. "Maybe. Also we're going to Hogsmeade on Saturday. Valentine's Day and
whatnot."
"Valentine's Day and whatnot," Alice repeated. "That's how you ask me out for our Valentine's
Day date?"
"What did you want me to do, bring in a church choir?"
Alice harrumphed and started walking again. "I want roses, Longbottom."
"Of course."
"And chocolates!"
Hogsmeade was all dressed up for the occasion. Red ribbons and pink banners littered the streets,
and the flood of Hogwarts students on the special day added a most anxious, nervous ambience to
the village. Young couples on tentative dates would hold sweaty hands, older couples determined
to show how in love they were would traipse about the place most joyously, showing how
ostensibly in love they were.
Among the students were four boys on a mission.
"Just tell a teacher, James. This is unnecessary."
"No, Moony. James isn't going to give Dolohov the satisfaction of knowing he ran to a teacher."
"But James was tortured!"
"Dolohov did not torture me."
"Really, James? Then what would you call the re-shattering of your barely healed breastbone?"
"Rough and tumble."
"Peter, help me talk some sense into these two."
"Actually, I kind of like the idea of roughing up some Slytherins on Valentine's Day. While
everyone else is frolicking about, we'll be handling our business. What's the word for that?
Juxtadition?"
"Juxtaposition."
"Yes, that. Thank you, Remus."
"No problem. I should have figured you'd side with them, anyway. It was two to one, and you sure
like to pick your winning battles."
"It's called being clever."
"That's the spirit, Wormtail. Now, Moony, Padfoot, listen up. When we find them, Dolohov is
mine. If he thinks I'm some Hufflepuff he can intimidate, he'll have another thing coming. Moony,
I know you're still not keen on any of this, but if you come with us then you have to be resolved."
"Yes, yes, I'll help you. I just don't think fighting violence with violence will get us anywhere."
"Oh, save it for the Prefect meetings, Moony. Prongs is calling us to action!"
Near the edge of the village, by a precipice overlooking the Shrieking Shack, a group of Slytherins
loitered about, as they were wont to do. Mulciber, Rosier, Wilkes, Avery, Travers, Snape, and
Antonin Dolohov. They were laughing about something or other, and when the first, perfectly
round snowball hit Travers square in the face, they all froze, frowned, and then whirled around to
spot the perpetrator.
"Who's there?" called Rosier, his wand out.
The next snowball hit him on the side of the head, knocking him over.
"Oho," said Mulciber stretching his arms and pulling his wand out. "Whoever you are, you've
picked the wrong people to mess with."
Naturally, he was hit by a snowball next. It caught him on the back, and he fell forward onto his
face.
"Show yourself," commanded Dolohov.
"With pleasure." Appearing from out of nowhere, James Potter strode forward, face set, eyes alight
with violent resolve. His chest was bandaged beneath his layers that protected against the cold, and
though he didn't show it, every movement hurt. "Expelliarmus!"
Dolohov's wand flew from his hand, through the air, to James. James didn't even bother catching it.
It landed in the snow, and James dropped his own wand beside it.
James wound back and punched Dolhov in the face. It was a glancing blow, and as Dolohov
stumbled back, James followed him and punched again. This time, with a direct hit on Dolhov's
nose, there was a loud crunch, and blood spurted into the air.
"Not so pleasant, is it?" James asked. Dolohov fell to the ground, clutching his face as James
towered over him. Around them, the others fought. Mulciber, Rosier, and Wilkes had already been
taken out. They lay in the snow, eyes closed peacefully. Travers and Peter, Avery and Sirius,
Snape and Remus all dueled fiercely while James surveyed Dolohov with unfettered distaste. "I
should break every bone in your body."
Dolohov laughed from his position on the ground. "I should have seen this coming."
"I'm surprised you didn't."
"I suppose, given how angry you are, you really didn't know that someone cheated for you."
"No one cheated," said James, his frown deepening. "You can't keep using that as an excuse. Your
team is just bad."
"Your arrogance is still in one piece, I see. Glad to see at least some part of you is."
"Alright," said James. "Mercy be damned. I'm breaking your arms."
Dolohov laughed again. "You don't have it in you."
"Oh, I really do. Torture has that effect on people."
James took a hold of Dolohov's arm with one hand, placed his other against Dolohov's elbow.
"No, don't!" Dolohov scrambled on the ground, tried to pull James off with his free hand.
James adjusted his grip, his expression grim, and then paused, looked at Dolohov's arm, and
wrenched-
"Alright. I've seen enough."
James froze, his friends and the Slytherins all froze, and they looked around.
Behind them was Professor Windstrum, flanked by three men James didn't recognize.
"You are all to return to the castle immediately. We will not have students brawling in the bloody
village. I'll escort you all personally, just in case you can't go the whole walk without taking a
swing at one another."
Slowly, James stepped back from Dolohov. His friends put their wands away, and the Slytherins
nudged Mulciber, Rosier, and Wilkes awake.
"I really do forget that I teach children sometimes," Windstrum told his three companions dryly.
"Has anyone seen Potter in Hogsmeade yet?" asked Lily.
Frank shrugged. "I saw them leaving the castle, but not since."
"I'm sure he's around," said Alice.
"Oh, undoubtedly," commented Marlene with a smirk. "On Valentine's Day? He'd never miss this
opportunity, Lily. He'll be round here with some embarrassing way to ask you out in no time."
Lily almost found herself hoping he would do just that. She didn't voice this, though. She simply
looked out the window of The Three Broomsticks and sipped her butterbeer wordlessly.
"He was in a right state when he was released from the Hospital Wing the other day," said
Marlene. "Did any of you see him?"
Lily had. She'd been there when he first stepped into the Common Room on Monday night, and
she'd taken in his appearance with wide eyes. He had been quite quiet, and when she asked why, he
attributed it to his medication making him drowsy. In the week since then, he hadn't been around
very much. Remus said he was in their dormitory a lot, snoozing.
"Yeah," said Frank. "Being pushed off your broomstick will do that to you."
"I bet he's seething," said Alice. "He'll be sulking and stewing on this so badly right now."
"James is a great sulker," Frank admitted. "And he won't let this one go any time soon."
"Maybe that's where he is," Marlene joked. "Off getting revenge on Dolohov."
They all snorted.
Windstrum's office was nice. James sat in an armchair, and Windstrum surveyed him with his
steepled fingers resting on a polished mahogany desk. Around them was a bookcase filled with
books showing gleaming covers, a fishtank of crystal clear water inhabited by tropical fish, and
various knick knacks and memorabilia from Windstrum's many travels around the world nestled in
every nook. The hydra tooth in the corner of the room was particularly impressive to James.
"I'm disappointed in you," said Windstrum finally. "I am."
James raised an eyebrow.
"Not necessarily because you got into a fight - you're a student, these things happen, I know. I'm
disappointed by the way you handled it."
"Professor," said James, "how long were you watching us?"
"Long enough to see you try to further injure Dolohov after he was beaten. Now, I'm sure you hold
a grudge after that Quidditch match last week but James, come on. Breaking his arm?"
James' eyes narrowed. "I almost broke my spine after he pushed me off my broom."
"So, tit for tat," said Windstrum. "Is that it?"
"I suppose so."
Windstrum gestured widely. "Hence my disappointment. James, remember what side you're on.
Remember what you're fighting against. If you're going to match your opponent for every stroke,
you'll have to start using killing curses and the unforgivables just to keep up. Because that's what
they do."
James knew he was in the wrong, of course. He had known it the moment he told Sirius that they
would spent Valentine's Day hunting Dolohov down for revenge. Regardless, put in the same
situation, he would do the same thing. He regretted it not one bit. He had been working on
tempering his pride this past year, but there were some things that James would simply refuse to
tolerate.
"I suppose I am biased by my own experience," said Windstrum. "I can't stand the infliction of
pain unto others, no matter what. Three years ago I visited a village in the alps. Muggles were
being terrorized by a chimera, as white as snow, that would sneak up on the village at nightfall and
lay waste to them all. Two other villages had already been completely destroyed before I arrived."
"And this chimera gave you a fear of seeing anyone get hurt?"
"No. It was the people."
"I slayed the chimera with two friends I had met in Germany. They were talented wizards, and
good men. When the Muggles saw our magic, despite it having saved their village, they were
terrified. The night before we were to leave, while the three of us slept, they took our wands and
locked us up."
James stared.
"I later found out that we were locked up for weeks, but I spent most of that time in a daze. They
were superstitious people, you see, and we were the scariest thing they had ever seen - more so
than the chimera. They poked and prodded and whipped, starved and drowned. One of us, Stermun
his name was, used wandless magic quite unintentionally while they dunked his head in a bucket
of water. A simple bubble-head charm. They killed him for that. My other friend died soon after -
starvation."
"Merlin," James muttered.
Windstrum shook his head quickly. "Anyway. My point is that hurting others will get you
nowhere. There never needs to be more pain put out there, James. Be compassionate. Be merciful."
Slowly, James nodded. Perhaps he did regret his actions now, if only a little. "Did you meet those
three men from earlier during your travels as well?"
Windstrum brightened. "Yes, I did. Their names are Danylo, Artem, and Maksym. I met them in
Ukraine a few years back, and they've always been sympathetic to our cause. I reached out to them
for help as our numbers are spread very, very thin right now, and though we were still hashing out
the details in Hogsmeade before you all got in the way, I'm thinking they're keen."
"Good," James said. "Because Dumbledore's looking for more people to join the cause, right?"
Windstrum looked at James knowingly. "Yes, he is."
"Well, if he's short on people, then I-"
"You're too young, James."
"But-"
"You're dismissed." Windstrum gestured to his door. "Please go spend your Valentine's Day like a
normal teenager."
After a moment more of deciding whether or not he should push his luck, James stood and walked
to the door. Before he left, he looked back at Windstrum quizzically.
"Professor, when you were in that village with the Muggles, and, er, you were locked up… how
did you escape?"
Windstrum thought for a moment, then smirked, winked, and said, "Magic."
Dear Lily,
We hope you are studying hard. Your lack of letters certainly indicates so, but that could also be
attributed to other, less academic things. We hope that it is because you are studying hard.
Our holiday cruise starts next week, and as we've told you, we will still be away during your
Easter break. Therefore, you had better keep in touch much more regularly than you currently do
(which is very little, if we're being completely honest).
Just in case the point hasn't hit home yet, we are reprimanding you for not writing more, and
demanding that you send us a letter immediately. We are very needy.
Also how is James? Your father didn't think I should ask, but he's rarely right about anything so I
ignored him. Are you and James together yet? I would normally know this, you see, except you
haven't written to us at all, so how could I?
Petunia is well. Vernon is, well, Vernon. How are you, Lily? We wouldn't know, because you
haven't written. Has it sunk in yet?
Sincerely, and expectantly,
Mum
Lily rolled her eyes and smiled to herself at how amusing and passive aggressive her mother could
be. The Common Room was quiet, as most others were still enjoying their afternoon in the village.
Lily sat by the window, having walked back up with her friends an hour or so ago.
She took a roll of parchment out of her bag and started writing a response. She didn't notice James
walk into the Common Room, but looked up when he slumped into the seat opposite her and
smiled warmly. "Happy Valentine's day, Evans."
Lily raised an eyebrow. "A tad late in the day for that, isn't it, Potter?"
"Perhaps, but I've had urgent business to attend to all day. You're the first person I've wished! Do
you feel special?"
"How could I not, when I'm around you?" Lily responded dryly.
James laughed. "A fantastic point, Evans. So, did you lot get up to much in Hogsmeade?"
"Not really. Pretty much the average Hogsmeade visit. Stopped by Honeydukes, shook my fist at
students entering Zonko's, lounged about in The Three Broomsticks." Lily looked away from him
and casually added, "Would have liked to see you there."
"Yeah," said James. "Unfortunate that we missed our chance."
Lily looked back at him. Missed their chance for what? What did he mean? Well, she knew exactly
what he probably meant. Their chance for a… well, a date. But Lily allowed herself to search for a
million other things that James could have been implying instead, just to torture herself.
James caught her eye and winked. "Next time."
Oh, that was much more difficult to find alternative interpretations for. He had a 'next time' in
mind. He would soon ask her out once more. Lily bit her lip. "I guess we'll see."
"Hi, James." Rose Fawcett, the red-headed girl with whom, according to Alice, James Potter had
lost his virginity, approached Lily and James' spot by the window. She smiled at James. "Happy
Valentine's Day."
"Rose," greeted James, looking surprised. "Same to you. Er, how did you get into our Common
Room?"
"Oh, I came with a friend," said Rose. She looked at Lily then, and faltered. "Oh, you're a Prefect,
right? I'm not in trouble, am I?"
Lily wanted to open the window and shove dear Rose right through it. Never before had she
detested someone so quickly upon meeting them, and with so little justification. It was most unlike
Lily and she knew it, but she struggled to care.
"No," said Lily, folding her mum's letter and tucking it away, then standing. "I was just about to
head off, anyway."
"Oh, really?" said James, looking disappointed.
"Yeah. I'm meeting, er, Marlene."
"Well, I have detention tonight. You should come visit."
Lily wanted to beam, not only at his words but at the look on Rose's face. "Maybe I will." She
started walking. "Happy Valentine's Day, Potter."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Evans."
She left the Common Room and walked to the library. Rose Fawcett. Seventh Year. Slytherin.
James, of all people, and with all the girls he had to choose from, had lost his virginity to a
Slytherin girl. Now of course Lily held no grudge towards Slytherin. In fact, she discouraged any
inter-house animosity at all - her best friend until this year was a Slytherin, after all! But despite
herself, she couldn't help but wish James had stuck with his prejudice and stayed far, far away from
Rose bleeding Fawcett.
Tree. Bush. Root.
Panting, panting, galloping after his quarry.
Bush. Bush. Tree.
Slivers of light poking between the trees. Moonlight.
A bark, a squeak from the rat clinging onto his fur. A howl from up ahead.
A clearing.
James stopped galloping as he emerged into the clearing, a wide open space between all the trees
and bushes, where the light from the full moon beamed down to scorch the roots and grass and dirt
with illumination.
The werewolf was at the far end of the clearing, and had stopped. It stared up at the moon, not even
panting.
James, on the other hand, was panting heavily as he relaxed his muscles, the chase over. Beside
him, Sirius burst from the trees and skidded to a stop when he saw the werewolf. He prowled
closer to James, and then sat on his haunches. He, too, was panting heavily. Peter, having clung
onto James perilously for most of the night, scaled down his frame now and scurried along the
ground and among the roots, though being careful not to get too close to the werewolf.
They all watched as the werewolf layed down and curled up. It would happen, every once in a
while, and they were all thankful when it did. The werewolf would spend much of the night simply
sleeping, or it would feel lazy and keep to itself. On these nights, Sirius and James wouldn't have to
fear any injuries, and could simply enjoy being out of the castle, and on the following mornings
Remus would be well rested rather than haggard, gaunt, and lethargic.
The werewolf closed its eyes. After a couple of minutes, James knew it was asleep.
Stretching, squeezing, the most peculiar sensation of transformation, and James was human.
Beside him, Sirius transformed too.
"Nice night for it," James said. He sat down by a tree facing the werewolf and rested his back
against it, keeping a watchful eye on the rising and falling chest of the beast. The clearing was
large, and the werewolf all the way on the other side of it, but James was far too experienced at this
game to let his guard down, ever.
Sirius dropped down beside him and stretched his legs out. "A really great night for it, I reckon.
How long do you think he'll be out for?"
"Ideally? All night."
Sirius snorted. "Dreams are free."
"Yeah. We probably have half an hour, realistically. And that's at best."
"I agree. He's barely broken a sweat tonight."

"Werewolves can't sweat," James said automatically, remembering the research he and Sirius had
done back in Second Year. "Remember?"
Sirius laughed. "Ah, that's right."
They were quiet, then. A comfortable silence. James treasured the friends with whom he could
have these moments, as they were few and far between. The understanding that they didn't always
have to be talking. Presence, while thinking of other things, was sometimes more than enough.
Lily had indeed visited him in detention on Valentine's Day. That had been fun. They'd talked
plenty more since, but generally just between classes. The strangeness of being in a castle with
someone for many months on end was that there would be plenty of run-ins and short bursts of
conversation, but very few would be meaningful. He wondered why that was.
He supposed it was up to him to make them meaningful - the castle could only do so much. But
that would mean he'd have to take that extra step, the step that he'd been avoiding all year.
Since the beginning of their Sixth Year, things had undeniably changed between him and Lily.
Things had changed unthinkably quickly. He had scarcely believed what was happening when they
had surprisingly become friends, and then on New Year's Eve, as unexpectedly and suddenly as the
universe had exploded into existence, the two had kissed. They had kissed, and James still couldn't
comprehend how he had come to that point. Then they came back to Hogwarts and kissed again,
and then again. If even a slightly younger James could look in at what his life had become, he
surely would faint, and insist on being taken to St Mungo's. James was now in a position where he
was courting Lily Evans - properly courting her!
And that step, that extra, dreaded step, was to ask her out.
I'd sooner date the giant squid , and you're an arrogant toerag, many words and declarations of
crushing, wounding rejection rang through James' mind, pounded on his temples, drumming into
him that he would be foolish, ridiculously foolish, to ask her out. He shouldn't get ahead of himself,
for every time he did, things came crashing down around his head.
When was the right time? When would his chance come? Or had it already passed?
The werewolf snorted and lifted its head.
"Peter, get back," Sirius shouted, jumping to his feet.
James scrambled up. Within moments, Sirius was a dog, and he a stag. Together they charged at
the werewolf, antlers and barred teeth at the ready. Business as usual.
"About two weeks ago," called out Patsy, the head chef in her shrill voice, "a teacher is telling
Patsy off for letting a student try out the breakfast some minutes before breakfast. But Patsy didn't
do any such thing!"
Slinky hung back behind some of the other House-elves. As was often the case, though, his big,
pointy ears, even by House-elf standards, gave him away.
"Slinky! Patsy knows it was you!" Patsy pointed a spatula right at him. The other House-elves
cleared away from him like clockwork, and Slinky looked around quickly, and then back at Patsy
with a guilty expression. "Patsy saw you talking with the student!"
Slinky stood straighter, holding his chin up as high as it could go. This put the weight of his big
head further back than where he stood, and he lost his balance and fell flat onto his back. He
jumped right up again and stood even straighter than before. "It is Slinky's job to answer to every
student and teacher! A student came here and Slinky followed her every order, like a good House-
elf!"
The others all looked between Patsy and Slinky with their mouths wide open at the spectacle.
Patsy's brows furrowed thunderously. "Well, Professor McGonagall is speaking with me today
reminding me what we can and cannot allow students to do in the kitchens! They may eat and give
us orders for food, but we must not let them eat a feast before the feast is being served! Is this
clear, Slinky?"
Slinky hung his head. This put most of his weight before him, and he almost fell over again. "Yes,
Patsy."
Patsy's nostrils flared. "Good."
The spectacle over, the other House-elves all set about getting back to work. "Typical Slinky," one
of them muttered.
Slinky hung his head some more, and this time he did fall over.
"This is our last apparition lesson," the Ministry official announced, holding his hands up. The
chatter in the Great Hall died off. "Anyone who needs further lessons, or simply supervised
practice, can pay for private sessions between now and your apparition test in two weeks. Other
than that, good luck, and remember: Destination, Determination, and-"
"Deliberation," the students all droned, turning as they said it to the back of the Great Hall where,
as was always the case, the official had apparated. He clearly thought it still impressed them. It
barely had the first time he did it, and that was months ago.
They started filing out of the Great Hall, and the chatter picked back up. As the official was
standing right in the way, he was swept up in the sea of Sixth Years, protesting and stammering all
the way into the Entrance Hall.
"I can't wait for the apparition test," Marlene declared. "I'm going to absolutely crush it!"
Lily observed her amused. "You're always so bubbly these days. What's gotten into you?"
"Life, Lily. I've grown to realize just how blessed we all are by simply being here."
Marlene started skipping beside her, then. Really skipping. It was especially impressive when she
kept it up as they began their ascent of the Entrance Hall's stairs.
Lily shook her head at her friend's antics, and took a second look at the letter in her hands.
Lily
Mother was constantly nagging me before she and Dad left for their cruise to write to you more
often. Or at all. Hence this letter. Don't get used to it.
How are you? I am well. I presume you're well also.

Vernon and I have set a date for our wedding. It will be some time around the Christmas season,
either December or January. Naturally, you're invited. Don't expect to be my maid of honor,
though. Writing you a letter in the first place is charity enough.
Petunia
Lily wrinkled her nose at the letter, and nodded absent-mindedly at something Marlene was saying
about how beautiful the sky looked through the window. She shouldn't have expected more from
Petunia, she supposed. This much was more than she had expected in the first place.
That being the case, Lily counted herself lucky to have gotten the letter at all.
"No," said James in answer to the Fifth Year girl's question. "Non-verbal spells are not required for
Exceeds Expectations or even Outstanding at O.W.L level. It will go a long way towards
impressing your examiner, though. Most Sixth Years can't even get the hang of it." The girl
nodded, and went back to packing her stuff away. James looked at the rest of the Fifth Years. "Any
other questions? No? Alright, that's all for today, then. We'll meet again next week. You don't have
long before exams now, so really make these next few weeks count."
The students nodded and filed out of the classroom, each thanking him before they left.
"They're getting good," James said to Sirius, who sat atop the teacher's desk. "Almost as good as
we were last year."
Sirius hopped off the desk. "Almost."
The two left the classroom and set off for the Great Hall, hoping to be in time for lunch.
"At any rate, they're better than Peter was," James added. "He could barely transfigure a matchbox
last year, bless his soul. It's a wonder how he manages to be an Animagus."
"It's not really a wonder though, is it?" said Sirius. "With mates like us, anything's possible."
"Yes, you're quite right," said James. Then, "Do you reckon he'll pass the apparition test?"
Sirius hesitated. "We should probably help him out."
"We really should."
"In fact, it wouldn't hurt for him to sit in for one of your tutoring sessions. I suspect he still barely
knows most of what you're covering."
"And barely might be generous," said James, grimacing. "I've sat down with him so many times,
and he never seems to get it."
"I know what you mean. Trying to help him keep up with Remus and ourselves can be frustrating
to say the least. There are times he surprises us though," said Sirius. "Every now and then he pulls
a trick from out his arse. I'll give him that much credit."
"That's true. He can be full of surprises."
They neared the Entrance Hall, where the raucous chatter emanating from the Great Hall flowed
out in waves.
"I will make sure he can apparate, though," Sirius said. "I'll take him out to the village. We can't
have a Marauder without his license, where the hell is he supposed to maraud?"
"Good idea," said James. "Quite generous of you, too. I'm surprised."
"Oh, I'm full of generosity these days, Prongs."
"Is that right?"
"Quite."
"And what exactly is bringing about all this generosity, my dear Mr Padfoot?"
"Hm," said Sirius. "Life. Life and its many blessings have brought out the best in me, Prongs, old
boy."
"Well, tell life that I-"
"Hi, James."
James looked around in annoyance and saw Rose Fawcett. "Oh. Hey, Rose."
"Hey," she said, smiling brightly and brushing her hair away from her face. "It's your birthday next
week, right?"
"Yep. On Friday."
"Cool. So, are you throwing a party? You usually do, right?"
"Well," butted in Sirius, "first you'd have to actually be invited."
James elbowed him in the side and gave a look that he hoped said 'play nice'.
Rose took it in stride though, and widened her smile at James. "I'm sure that won't be a problem.
I'm looking forward to it!"
Before Sirius could fling another barbed comment at her, she turned with a flick of her hair and
walked back to the Slytherin table.
"I never liked her," said Sirius. "Just so you know."
"Really?" said James. "I could never have guessed."
Naturally, James' birthday party was all Lily heard about in the days leading up to the event.
Sirius had treated the party like something exclusive that only those in James' inner circle would
even know about, and seeing as Lily was inexplicably a part of that circle now, she had long since
been in the loop. As was always the case though, and as Lily suspected Sirius had anticipated, word
got out and spread like wildfire. James Potter's birthday party could never be some quiet event, and
due to Sirius 'making sure' no one knew about it, everyone knew about it.
"That's what they want though, isn't it? James and Sirius, I mean," said Alice, sitting beside Lily on
her bed and watching Marlene apply eyeliner with painstaking precision. "Everyone to be talking
about them for days on end."
"Oh, I have no doubt," said Lily with a snort.
Both her and Alice were already dressed. Some girls were apparently wearing dresses to the party,
which was laughable to Lily. She wore jeans, boots, and a nice white cardigan she'd bought during
the Christmas break. Alice and Marlene were dressed similarly, though Marlene was insistent on
applying more makeup.
"Just to make all the other girls feel ugly," she had said.
Their other two dormmates, Harriet and Nancy, who had their own group of friends outside of
Gryffindor, had already left for the party. Marlene reckoned it was good to be relatively late.
"Make them all wait. Never give the people what they want," she had said.
When finally Marlene was ready, the three of them set off for the boathouse storing the boats used
by First Years to reach the castle each year. It was an underground harbour of sorts that Lily hadn't
revisited since her own First Year, and she had to admit, it was the perfect location for a party.
They took the stairs from the courtyard by the Entrance Hall, and were joined as they went by
various others dressed up for the occasion. When they stepped from marble stairs onto rocks and
pebbles, heard the blasting music that had been muted to them moments before, and saw the crowd
of exhilarated students dancing, chatting, and singing along, Lily knew they had reached.
An orb of light hung in the air above them all, pulsing and flashing every color of the rainbow.
Sirius had been very excited when telling Lily about that one. The boathouse itself was further on,
wooden and drab, and it surprised Lily not one bit that the students had instead chosen to party
surrounded by cave walls, standing on rocks, and not being able to see very much at all, even with
the illumination from Sirius' orb of light. A heating charm had also been cast, which Lily had
talked Sirius through the finer points of, as they would otherwise have been freezing from the chill
of the night coupled with their being underground.
"You made it!" Sirius approached them, beaming. He had a Dragon Barrel Brandy in hand, and his
face was very red. "Hey everyone," he yelled. No one heard him. "Look who's here!"
"Hey, Sirius," greeted Alice. "Where's Frank?"
"He's right there." Sirius pointed vaguely at the crowd of students dancing.
"Right," said Alice. "Thanks."
She set off, presumably to look for him, and Sirius turned to Marlene and gave a formal nod of his
head. "McKinnon."
"Black," she said tonelessly, before turning away and striding off, being quickly lost in the throng
of students.
Lily looked at Sirius with a wry smile. "Your effect on women is undeniable, Black."
Sirius didn't seem to have heard her, and looked at her seriously. "Hey, we get along right?"
"Oh. Er, well… " Lily knew she needn't bother giving a serious answer, but she wanted to, and
found that at this point, given all the unprecedented circumstances, she may as well fall from grace
completely. She could get along with Sirius Black. "Yes. Yes we do."
"Good," said Sirius, looking relieved. "I want us to get along." He leaned in and whispered, "It's
important to James, you see."
"What's important to me?"
Beside Lily stood James, and as always her heartbeat instantly quickened at the sight of him.
"James," exclaimed Sirius. "Fancy seeing you here!"
"Go drink some water, Padfoot."
"If that is what is what the birthday boy wishes, then by golly that's what he'll get!"
Sirius stormed off, a man on a mission, and Lily looked at James with a warm smile. "Happy
birthday, Potter."
"Thank you," he said, returning her smile. "What did you get me?"
She bit her lip. "Close your eyes."
He didn't hesitate in closing them, giving Lily a few welcomed drops of courage. She leaned in,
stood on her tip-toes, and gently kissed him on the cheek. She stepped back and he opened his
eyes, lifted his fingers to his cheek.
"Thanks," he said, sounding a little breathless.
"Play your cards right, Potter," said Lily, feeling more and more emboldened, "and the next one
will be much more involved than that-"
"Happy birthday, James!"
Rose Fawcett bounded up to him, wearing a gorgeous black dress that stopped short of her thighs,
accompanied by heels with fancy straps, and she hugged him tight.
"Er, thanks," said James, looking uncomfortable.
Lily rubbed her neck and wrinkled her nose at the stones and rocks beneath her.
Rose stepped back from James, barely, with her hands still on his arms. "Do you want to know
what I got you?"
"Erm…"
"Because I've already given it to you!"
He hesitated. "Was it the hug?"
"No, silly," she said, laughing and waving a hand. "It was the game."
"The… game?"
"The Quidditch game! Against Slytherin!"
Lily matched James' bewildered expression as he stared at the girl.
Rose rolled her eyes like James was being funny. "I spiked the Slytherin Quidditch team's
breakfast with a confounding solution. Because of me, their reflexes were all slow during the
game, so you could beat them!"
James' bewilderment slowly seemed to fade, and he looked at her with an empty expression.
"It wasn't very hard to do. I only had to go to the kitchens, and the House-elves were all too happy
to help me. You showed me where to find the kitchens, remember? Last year?" Rose beamed at
him. "I'll never forget that night."
"Because of you," James repeated quietly, "I beat them."
"Yep," said Rose, nodding happily.
"And you think this is a good thing?"
Rose tilted her head. "It… is, isn't it? I sabotaged my own house for you."
"You cheated," James spat.
"Yes," Rose said obviously. "And? James, are you upset by this? I did you a favor."
James gave a choked laugh. "Well, promise me something, Rose. Never do me a favor again."
"What?" Rose looked properly annoyed now. "You're mad because I cheated for you? Look, it
even doesn't matter. It's just a game!"
Lily's eyes widened, and James' eyes bugged out of his head. "Just a- Just a game?"
Turning slowly, Lily edged away from the two. Spotting a boy with light brown hair not far from
her, she moved away from them faster.
"Do you know me at all?" she heard James demanding from behind her. "I mean, at all, Fawcett?"
"Remus," Lily called.
The boy looked over, and smiled as she approached. "Lily. How are you?"
"Grand," she said, feeling relieved to be standing with him now. They were by the edge of the
water, where it lapped at the rocks gently. "You?"
"Oh, I'm alright." He looked over to where the rest of the crowd gathered. There was a drinks table,
a snacks table, blankets, couches, a disco ball lying on the ground, and the horde of rowdy
teenagers amongst all of it, yelling and laughing with each other.
Lily only then realized how far away from the actual party the two of them were. She looked at
Remus quizzically. "Not much of a party-goer?"
"Unfortunately not," he said with a small smile. "I know I come across as a huge wet blanket, but
these sorts of things really aren't my idea of fun. Whenever I'm around this sort of atmosphere, I
always find myself thinking about how much I'd rather be in my bed, snoozing, or reading a book
or something. Even studying, as pathetic as that might sound."
"No, I get it. Believe me," said Lily. She looked back to where Rose and James were still talking
heatedly. "People are exhausting."
Remus snorted. "I could not agree with you more."
From behind them they heard coughing. They turned to see Sirius, who had been even further from
the party than themselves. "I just spewed," he said haggardly, "my entire guts up." He stumbled
closer to them, breathing slowly.
"He's not usually this bad at holding his liquor," Remus told Lily. "It's because he started drinking
mid-afternoon."
"More like mid-morning," said Sirius. He made a distasteful face, and turned to the water and spat
something out.
"Gross," said Lily, grimacing.
"Padfoot, pull yourself together," said Remus. "You've got a party to host."
"Bugger this party," Sirius muttered, squatting down. "Bugger it all."
"Indeed," called James. They turned and watched him approach. Rose was nowhere to be seen.
"This party is dumb. Sorry, Padfoot."
"Nope," said Sirius in a strained voice. "Agree wholeheartedly."
"What are we all gathering for?" came Frank's voice. He approached with Alice by his side, and
both looked just as sober as this group felt. "What's happening?"
"I believe," said Remus, "that we're just about to leave."
"Marlene, Lily, and I just got here," said Alice, then looked around and wrinkled her nose, "but..."
"We should go," Frank agreed. "Sirius, your party is pretty average."
"I know," muttered Sirius. He heaved on the rocks, and they all groaned.
"Come on, let's get out of here," said Frank, looking disgusted. "I know a good spot."
"Brilliant," said James. "Someone fetch Marlene and Peter, quick. We're taking a shortcut to the
second floor."
"I guess I'll do it," said Sirius, looking somehow even more disgruntled than before. "Hold on."
The group followed James to a section of the wall that folded away to a hidden staircase, and when
Sirius returned with Marlene and Peter, and with neither Sirius or Marlene looking at or
acknowledging the other, they all finally set off. Somehow, the group was all on the same page
about the party. Marlene was especially vocal in voicing her disapproval.
When they reached the castle, Frank took the lead. Lily saw James hang back, and she matched his
pace. The two reached the back end of the group, and followed along a few steps behind the others.
"So," Lily said, her curiosity finally becoming too much for her to fight off, "Rose Fawcett. What
in the world happened there?"
James snorted. "A complete disaster, that's what."
"Alice told me you had sex," Lily blurted. James' head whipped to her, and she kept talking. "You
and Rose, I mean. She told me you, er, lost your virginity to Rose."
James grimaced. "Brilliant."
"Tell me, Potter," Lily said, when it was clear he wasn't going to add to that.
"Tell you what?"

"The full story. Because clearly there are a lot of things that led up to you and Rose…
doing anything together."
A sigh. "Well, you have a point there."
Lily didn't bother saying she knew that already. She waited for him to continue.
"It was last year," he began. "After one of your particularly stinging rejections, followed by one of
our more memorable fights. You slapped me." Lily grinned at the memory, and James chuckled. "I
look back on it fondly. But not so much on what happened afterwards. I was hurt, insecure, and, to
be honest, lonely. Rose was a pretty redhead who, that same night, showed a hell of a lot of interest
in me. I took her down to the kitchens, told a few jokes, and she loved it. Made me feel like I have
a lot to offer a girl, which was something I guess I craved at that moment. I know saying 'one thing
led to another' isn't saying much, but that's really what happened. We found an empty classroom.
We fucked."
Lily smacked his arm. "James!"
"That's exactly what it was, Evans. Not an act of love. Barely an act of sex. I'll be honest, it was
quite short."
Lily was beginning to regret having any role in making this conversation happen at all. She knew
her face had to be as red as his Quidditch robes.
"Afterwards, we did it again. It was no more satisfying. We then tried chatting through the night
and I found that we have zero chemistry, whatsoever. I sneaked back to Gryffindor tower before
everyone woke up that morning, and she left for the Slytherin dorms. Every time I saw her
thereafter, she would always act quite personal, because we have, as she likes to say, a history."
"A redhead named after a flower," said Lily in a teasing voice. "You certainly have a type."
"Oh, shut it," he said, shaking his head but smiling. "Anyway, she's the only girl I've had sex with."
"Not-" Lily cleared her throat. "Not even Alice?"
James rolled his eyes. "Don't act like she hasn't already told you."
"I want you to tell me."
"No, I did not sleep with your best friend, Evans. We talked about it, though. Considered it. In all
honesty, Alice and I were surprisingly compatible."
Lily bit her lip, not knowing how to feel about that.
"But we didn't love each other. And Alice wanted her first to be with the boy she loves - Frank. I
felt the same way, only I lost my chance for a meaningful first time."
Lily was quiet at that, searching for the right words. "Oh," she said eventually.
"We're here." Frank stopped in front of a portrait of a lady with a harp and looked at them all
impressively.
James, Remus, and Sirius all made noises of understanding. Peter looked at them quickly and then
made his own, unconvincing noise of understanding.
"Welcome," said Frank, nodding to the portrait, who nodded back, before swinging the portrait out
to reveal a room on the other side, "to the Head Students' Office."
"Woah," said Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Frank.
They all clambered in, and Frank closed the door behind them. It was about the size of a teacher's
office, large enough to accomodate them all comfortably but still small in its own way, and cozy.
"Good shout, Longbottom," said Sirius, dropping down to the ground comfortably. "Always
wanted to come here."
"You knew about this office?" Frank asked him.
"Only by name," said Sirius, smirking.
"How very impressive, Black," said Marlene, rolling her eyes as she sat down too.
"Don't start," James warned. "It's my birthday."
"Happy birthday, James," the group chorused instantly.
"Yes, thank you-"
"Happy birthday to you," Sirius yelled.
"No."
"Happy birthday to you," Frank picked up.
"Oh, here we go."
"Happy birthday, dear James," the rest of them rejoined, grinning at his resigned expression.
"Happy birthday to you!"
"Thank you," he said. "Now-"
"Hip hip," shouted Sirius.
"Hooray!"
"Okay."
"Hip hip."
"Hooray!"
"Are we done?"
"Hip hip."
"Guess not."
"Hooray!"
"Oh, bugger you all," said James finally, dropping down to the floor with a laugh. Lily sat against
the wall opposite him, and Frank, Alice, Remus, and Peter promptly joined them.
"You know, Sirius," said Remus, "when you said the party was going to be exclusive in its guest
list, I really thought it was just going to be like this. This is nice."
"We've already established the party was rubbish," said Sirius exasperatedly. "Can we move on?"
"There wasn't even any cake," James mumbled.
"What?" exclaimed Marlene. "Black, you didn't bring cake to a birthday party?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, McKinnon," Sirius snapped back. "I forgot that the most important things to bring
to a party are drinks, music, and cake!"
"Will you two shut it?" said Frank. "You're like James and Lily were back in the day. Worse, in
fact."
"Oh," said Remus gravely, "I don't know about that."
"Well," James said, offering Lily yet another smile that made her heart beat faster, "we've come a
long way. Haven't we?"
A part of her, however small, had thought this might be the night she finally bit the bullet - finally
got with James. Of course Rose ended up getting in the way, but it was fine. They had time, and
they would have plenty more chances.
"We have indeed, Potter."
It had been a while since Caradoc had last visited this place. A maze, under the ground, of criss-
crossing corridors and darkness. The headquarters of the Death Eaters. He hated coming here,
never felt safe. They all thought he was a Death Eater, welcomed him, but at any moment
something might go wrong. As he'd recently come to learn, happenstance had a habit of
inconveniencing him.
"You were a spy this whole time!"
Caradoc rolled his eyes at the Death Eater bound to the chair in the middle of the dark room. "Yes,
Mr Gibbon. I was a spy the whole time."
"You- You won't get away with this!"
"The way my luck's been going, you're probably right. But in any case, I've got a job to do."
Caradoc hunkered down in front of the man until he was at eye level. "Emmett Fawley. What's he
got planned?"
Gibbon frowned. "The… Minister of Magic?"
"He's not the Minister," said Caradoc forcefully. "Not yet, anyway. It's just between him and
Sawyer Hughes now, and if everything goes right, Sawyer will get the job. But that's not why I'm
here. I know Fawley is on your side."
Gibbon's eyes widened, and he looked scandalized. "Wait, he is?"
Caradoc sighed and massaged his temples. "Alright, clearly you're of no use. So what
about Blithe?"
Now Gibbon's eyes widened not from scandal. Something else. Fear, perhaps. "How do you know
that name?"
"I'm a Death Eater, aren't I?"
"Even so, only a select few of us have ever heard of him."
Caradoc looked at him doubtfully. "And you're one of those select few?"
"No," Gibbon admitted. "But I've heard of him, still. From someone outside the Ministry."
Now Caradoc's interest was piqued. A lead on Blithe, any lead on Blithe, was all he'd searched for
over the past few months. "Who?"
Gibbon looked smug. "I won't tell-"
Caradoc closed his eyes and placed a hand on Gibbon's head. Though Legilimency was not his
strongest skill, he was still good enough to draw on the thoughts of the likes of Gibbon.
"Phillip Kelsey, Department of Magical Artifacts," Caradoc recited. He opened his eyes. "Thank
you, Gibbon. You've been a great help. Obliviate."
Gibbon's eyes unfocussed, and Caradoc untied him from the chair before leaving the room.
At last, he had a lead.
Taureau Barkley watched from afar as the ground rumbled, slid open, and Caradoc Dearborn
emerged. He'd been keeping tabs on the man for some weeks now. Caradoc Dearborn had bested
him in a fight, and had promptly tampered with his memory. As a trained killer, such things simply
did not sit right with Taureau Barkley.
He watched Dearborn walk, carefree, not knowing how easy it would be, how simple, for a killing
curse to hit him from behind. Just like that, he would be dead.
There had been many chances. For a man who projected a constant readiness to fight, Dearborn had
presented so, so many opportunities for Taureau Barkley to snuff him out with one flick of his
wand. The only struggle for him was choosing which opportunity to take. He wasn't normally one
to play with his food, but he wanted this kill to be as satisfying as possible. Losing that
fight really didn't sit right with him.
Dearborn kept walking.
Was it now? Was now the moment where Taureau Barkley should strike? Or should he wait? Let
Dearborn live another day?
Taureau raised his wand, his mind close to made up-
With a crack, Dearborn disapparated.
He lowered his wand.
"Not yet, then. But soon."
He would find Dearborn again. It was never particularly difficult for someone with his skills.
With a sigh, and an equally jarring crack, he too disapparated.
"Please, please, please, please," muttered Sirius.
From a distance, Peter raised a hand. A thumbs up.
"Yes!"
They all cheered and ran to him, and James and Sirius lifted him into the air. Passersby on the
Hogsmeade street cast them amused glances.
"Congratulations, Peter," said Alice, smiling warmly at him.
"I knew you could do it," Lily told him. "Well done, Peter!"
"Congrats, Pete," cheered Frank with a clap on Peter's back.
"Good work, mate," said Remus, beaming.
When Sirius and James put him down, Peter wound his arms behind his back and smiled at them
all bashfully. "Thanks, guys."
"That means we all passed," Marlene announced. "We can all now legally apparate!"
"Travers failed," James pointed out.
"I meant all of us."
"Oh, right."
"Three Broomsticks," Frank declared. "What do you guys say?"
"If you're paying," said Alice, nudging him and smirking.
Frank looked at her for a few seconds before smiling widely. "Oh, what the hell? Sure. Butterbeers
on me, guys."
The eight of them cheered again, and as one they made their way over to The Three Broomsticks,
where a handful of other Sixth Years celebrated their successful apparition test results. The others
set about selecting a table, and Lily hung back a bit. She pulled out a folded piece of parchment
and gave it another read.
Lily,
Your father and I are about to board the ship, so this is the last letter I'll be able to send you until
we get back - in a month! Exciting!
Now, remember to feed the cat when you're home for Easter break. Until then, the cat's with Mrs
Jones at number Seven.
In answer to your previous letter, your father and I were in love long before we started dating.
We're simply lucky that he finally got some courage together and asked me out, otherwise we might
have missed our chance! Why do you ask? Does this have something to do with James, dear? My
goodness, it does, doesn't it?
My highest advice to you on the matter, dear Lily, is to trust in your heart. I realize I could not give
you more vague and seemingly unhelpful advice, but believe me, that's where you will find the
sagest advice in the world. When your heart says it's time, it's time.
In other news, your father saw a dolphin yesterday. Cool, right?
Love you forever and always,
Mum
Lily folded the letter once more and tucked it away, before joining her friends at a table by the
window. Sirius was in the middle of a story, and Lily tuned in too late to care so she tuned back out
and looked around at the other tables. Professor Flitwick was at a nearby table, and he looked
directly at Sirius with a frown. Lily tilted her head in confusion.
"And would you believe it," said Sirius, "he turns around and tells me-"
"Black!"
The others joined Lily in staring at Flitwick, who was marching over to their table with such fury
compacted into his short, stout little frame that he was reminiscent of a bowling ball.
"And you too, McKinnon!"
Sirius and Marlene both blinked at him, looking nothing short of bamboozled.
"For months I've been trying to figure out why my classroom is sometimes mysteriously unlocked
in the morning. I finally got around to placing a Fabula charm on the room yesterday. Do you
know what that does?"
The two shook their heads slowly.
"It recreated for me, in shocking clarity I might add, everything that took place last night, and I
imagine has been taking place for the last three months!"
Six heads turned to stare at Sirius and Marlene. Their expressions were identical, equally guilty,
and they swallowed thickly.
"Now," Flitwick continued, "it's none of my business what you get up to in your own time. But
please, for Merlin's sake, my classroom is a place of learning! Not some bed and breakfast
type jungle for your love-making!"
With that, and a little swish of his cloak, Flitwick turned on his heel and left.
"Did- Did he just say love-making?" asked Frank.
Marlene and Sirius looked at each other, and then at anything but each other.
"Merlin," said Alice.
James looked like he was trying to hide a smile.
He knew. Lily shook her head to herself. Of course Sirius would have told him. More importantly,
Sirius and Marlene… Clearly, they'd decided to seize their chance while it was still hanging
around. She looked at James again, while the rest of her friends started growing loud, and
demanding answers of the two guilty parties.
She'd come to this conclusion in the back of her mind some time ago, and over the last few weeks
she'd grown absolutely certain of it. Where it had been the slightest bit daunting before, by now it
was inevitable, perhaps even overdue. Looking at him, Lily knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that
the time was upon them - their chance was right before their eyes.
The next time James Potter asked her out she would say, with no hesitation and no more need to
wait, a definite, resounding yes.
Blitz
Mr and Mrs Evans departed early from their holiday cruise. Their youngest daughter would arrive
home for Easter break the next day, after all, and they saw her much too infrequently as it was,
what with how far away her curious and spectacular school was.
"I can't wait to see her face," said Mr Evans, as they walked with their luggage down the harbor. "I
bet she'll scream."
"Our Lily is certainly a screamer," Mrs Evans admitted.
It was bizarre, the way events played out. Cruises could be very, very dangerous affairs, yet
disaster chose to strike only once they'd returned home. On a cloudy evening, the couple chose to
cut through the wrong little alley, bumped into the wrong young man armed with a knife and
desperate for money.
"If you struggle, I'll kill you."
They struggled.
Lily snorted in between giggles.
"It's really not that funny," Sirius mumbled.
She held a hand up, hunching over a little and struggling to breathe from laughing.
"Really, Lily, I don't see the joke," said Marlene, annoyance written plainly on her face.
Sirius and Marlene, with their loosened ties, unbuttoned shirts, and ruffled hair, looked out at Lily
from the broom closet, radiating a mix of indignance, guilt, and awkwardness.
"Ohhh!" Lily was bent all the way over now, clutching at her knees and trying to regain control
over her breath. "Ohhhhh!"
"This is too much," Sirius muttered.
Marlene made a disgruntled sound as she eyed Lily. "If you're not going to give us a detention or
anything, can you just go? I promise we'll finish up here quickly."
Sirius frowned. "Quickly?"
"Oh," said Lily, standing straight and gaining control immediately, "I'm giving you both
detentions, don't worry."
"What?"
"You both knew I was patrolling at this hour, yet you chose now to hook up in a broom closet of all
places."
"Lily, we're your friends!"
Lily pointed at Marlene. "You are engaged. To a Mr William Ärger, remember?" She pointed at
Sirius. "And you know she's engaged. Yet here you both are." She put her hands on her hips and
surveyed them disappointedly. "Does the institution of marriage mean nothing to you two?"
Neither of them looked as abashed as Lily wanted them to.
"Lily," said Marlene, "how I choose to butcher my engagement is none of your concern."
Lily rolled her eyes. "That would be the case, if you didn't choose to do it by breaking school rules.
I am a Prefect, and therefore this," she gestured to each of them sharply, and then to the broom
closet in general, "is my concern. Consider me concerned."
With a flick of her hair, she turned and stalked off down the corridor, not waiting for one of them to
ruin her illusion of having put them in their place. Regardless, she still heard Sirius make one more
comment before she reached the end of the corridor.
"James really needs to shag the attitude out of her as soon as possible."
Taureau Barkley cracked into place on an empty street in Birmingham and fired off a killing curse,
which Caradoc Dearborn ducked under before breaking into a sprint, not even turning to fire a spell
back. After months of waiting for the right moment to kill the man, Taureau Barkley had seized his
chance the previous night. Dearborn had darted under the killing curse at the last moment to tie his
shoelace. Why Dearborn hadn't simply used a charm for the task, Taureau Barkley couldn't say, but
it had saved the man's life.
Over the last day, Dearborn had led him on a merry chase around the country, and Taureau
Barkley's bad luck didn't seem to be abating any time soon.
He sprinted after his quarry, fired off another killing curse. The green light chipped a sign post and
knocked it over, singing the metal. He sprinted on. Dearborn reached the end of the street and
darted left. Taureau Barkley barged into the closest alley, praying that the short-cut would allow
him to cut Dearborn off on the next street over. The alley smelled, and was dark, but it all blurred
past as he raced through it. It started to curve towards the rough direction of Dearborn's route, and
Taureau Barkley smiled-
A dead end.
It was a dead end at the end of the alley, with only a sad building of boarded up doors and cracked
windows to greet him. Cursing under his breath, he turned on the spot and cracked into place back
at the start of the alley. He walked to the street Dearborn had turned off on. Empty. He kept
walking, down to the next street, and the next. The urgency had left his pace completely. By now,
he knew, Dearborn would be long gone.
"-much time, so tell me what you know before I take you to the Ministry and throw you in a cell!"
Taureau Barkley paused and turned to the direction of the voice. Dearborn's voice. It came from a
building on his right. A window was open, and he sidled up to it and peaked through. Smiled
widely. Perhaps good luck had finally found its way to him.
Dearborn stood in a small bedroom, his wand trained on a plump man in checkered pyjamas lying
in a narrow bed. The man laughed. "I know who you are. Caradoc Dearborn. You say you'll take
me to the Ministry? The way I hear it, you're wanted by the Ministry. They want your head!"
"A lot of people want my head right now," Dearborn muttered.

Taureau Barkley scratched his nose.
"You're in no position," said the man smugly, "to make demands, Mr Deaborn."
"I'm in no position?" Dearborn repeated. He grabbed the man by his silk pyjama shirt, lifted him
from his bed, and slammed him against the wall. Pressing his wand to the man's throat, Dearborn
leaned close and whispered, "How about this position?"
Though flustered, the man didn't look intimidated. "I know more still about you, Mr Deaborn.
You're a Death Eater. You passed on Ministry information to the Dark Lord. Yet you come here
asking questions that a Death Eater should have no interest in. Could it be that you are
a double double agent? Not for the Dark Lord, but someone else? Albus Dumbledore, perhaps?"
Dearborn's lips thinned.
"Interesting," said the man, eyes gleaming.
"Look," said Dearborn quietly, "you will tell me what I want to know. I've gone through too much
trouble, chased too many cold leads, interrogated Phillip Kelsey, Amon Romani, Kriss Tormund,
all to get to you. Now what do you know about Blithe?"
The man smiled wanly. "As I'm sure you know, Mr Dearborn, I am an information broker. I have
ears in many places, and I hear many things. Knowing those things is my trade. I am not partial to
either side of this war, although I've heard plenty about each. The man you seek. Blithe. I've never
met him, but I have one piece of information for you, in exchange for the one piece of information
you've given me."
Dearborn frowned. "I've given you nothing."
"Caradoc Dearborn, the wanted fugitive," said the man, "is not, in fact, a Death Eater. That is a
very valuable piece of information."
Dearborn was quiet for a few seconds. Eventually, he said, "Right." Then, "So tell me what I want
to know."
"My one piece of information for you, Mr Dearborn, is quite curious, if only because of the timing.
Blithe has grand plans. Plans which, through word of mouth alone, I have some, albeit limited,
understanding of." The man's smug smile widened. "And he puts those plans into motion today.
He has already taken the first step: eliminating an enemy who has proven to be a great threat to
him."
After a moment's hesitation, Dearborn let go of the man's shirt, stepped back. The man brushed
himself off and walked back to his bed. As he climbed under the covers, he surveyed Dearborn
with a neutral expression. "I cannot tell you who that enemy is, of course. Our trade has not
been that favorable. But I'm sure you have some inkling of what's going on, regarding everyone's
identities."
"Oh yes," said Dearborn darkly. "I'm well aware that he is Emmett Fawley."
The man raised his eyebrows, smiling. "It seems you don't need my assistance at all, then."
Taureau Barkley froze. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.
"Well, off with you then, Mr Dearborn. It was a pleasure doing business."
Mind racing, searching for his next course of action.
"Mr Dearborn? What- what are you doing?"
"Like I said before," said Dearborn. "I've given you nothing."
"Get back! No!"
"Obliviate."
A few seconds later, there was a sharp crack, and Dearborn was no longer in the room. Snapping
into action, Taureau Barkley knew he had to act fast. With another crack, he too was gone.
Caradoc apparated onto the front steps of a large, dark building. The home of Emmett
Fawley. Blithe.
He tried the door, out of habit more than anything. Oddly enough, it was open. With his wand out,
he pushed through, entered the house.
It was dark inside, and quiet. The walls seemed tight. There were picture frames, but he couldn't
make anything out. He didn't light up his wand. If Fawley was here, he couldn't alert him to his
presence.
Stepping slowly, cautiously, Caradoc made his way forward. It was a thin corridor, at the end of
which was another dark room. No floorboards creaked, which was a relief. He let out his breaths
gradually, being as quiet as he could. Other than his slow, soft footfalls, there was no noise coming
from anywhere else in the house. Still, he found himself on edge, couldn't shake the feeling that he
was being watched.
Caradoc emerged into what he recognized as a kitchen - the silhouette of a table, a sink by the wall.
He walked further, to an open door revealing yet another dark room. The darkness was thicker
here, the room was small. He stepped in, able to make out the shape of a desk against the wall.
Reaching out he felt a chair in front of him. Empty.
He turned. There was a silhouette in the doorway, unmoving.
Caradoc trained his wand on it. "I advise you not to try anything foolish. I've already been attacked
once today, and I'm not keen on another one."
The silhouette was small, like a person crouching low.
Caradoc frowned. "Lumos."
His wand lit up, the room appeared around him, and the House-elf in front of him was glaring with
piercing venom. "Intruders are not welcome in my master's house!"
"Merlin," breathed Caradoc, lowering his wand. He walked to the wall and flicked on the light,
putting his wand's light out.
"Intruders are not welcome in my master's house," she repeated crossly, stomping her little foot.
"Considering your master is a Death Eater and a murderer, I'm not inclined to care how
unwelcome I am here. Although," he said, making to step past her and out of the room,
"who does welcome intruders in their house?"
"My master is not a Death Eater," she said blankly.
He paused and turned, then gave her a pitying look. "What's your name?"
"Amila."
"Look, Amila. I'll put this very simply. Your master is a dangerous man, and he associates with
some dangerous people." He strolled about the room, stretching a cramp in his leg. The last day
had largely consisted of running. "Just this morning I was being chased by one of his associates. A
particularly dangerous man, who-" Caradoc stared, "is in that picture frame right there."
Caradoc rushed to the desk and picked up the frame. Taureau Barkley and Emmett Fawley, smiling
out at him, the Eiffel Tower poking up into a beautiful blue sky behind them.
"Ah," said Amila, "you mean Master Barkley."
Caradc jerked his head to her. "Master?"
She nodded, her ears flapping in the air. "Master Fawley has been with Master Barkley for many
years."
"Been with," Caradoc said quickly. "What do you mean been with?"
"Been…" She looked at him like he was an idiot, and seemed to be choosing words that would
make sense to him. "Been together. As a couple."
"A couple." Caradoc put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. "Barkley and Fawley... a
couple."
"There's nothing wrong with it," said Amila hotly. "If you think-"
"No, no, not at all," said Caradoc, raising his hands. "If anything I reckon good on them, I'm quite
happy for- Hold on, Barkley tried to kill me this morning! I'm not happy for them!"
"Oh," she said, her face clearing. "You must be Caradoc Dearborn, then."
"I- Yes, I'm Caradoc Dearborn," he said irritably. "So Fawley sent Barkley to kill me?"
"No," she said. "Master Barkley just hates you."
"Oh."
"Why would you think Master Fawley wants you dead?"
"I've interfered with his plans a number of times," said Caradoc, looking at the rest of the items
sitting on the desk. "I'd imagine I'm quite high on his list of people to kill. Where is he right now?"
"He's gone to confront his enemy," Amila announced proudly.
"Yes, I'd heard about that," said Caradoc, remembering what he'd been told shortly before coming
to the house. "'Eliminating an enemy who has proven to be a great threat to him', right? So who's
his enemy?"
"A terrible man called Blithe."
Caradoc jerked his head to her again. "What?"

She looked bemused at his constant state of shock. "Master Fawley has been investigating a man
called Blithe for months now. Today he is confronting him."
"No, no, no," said Caradoc. "That makes no sense. Fawley is Blithe, and Barkley works for Blithe!
Or at the very least, they have a relationship - for instance, oh, I don't know, they're a couple!"
Amila shook her head. "Not at all. Master Fawley wants to arrest the man called Blithe. He's told
me many times. Master Barkley began employ with Blithe one year ago. When he found out he
was working for a Death Eater, he told Master Fawley instantly. Master Fawley is the Head of the
Auror Department, after all. And soon he'll be the Minister!"
Caradoc looked away from her proud face, his mind finally catching up with the situation. "So
Fawley isn't Blithe… And you're saying Fawley is Blithe's enemy, which means that right
now...Oh, Merlin."
"What?" said Amila, tilting her head.
Caradoc looked at her slowly. He knew he'd never get the opportunity to apologize to Emmett
Fawley. It was already too late for that. He walked from the room, paused in the doorway. "I'm so
sorry."
Blithe sighed sadly, watched Emmett Fawley continue to struggle against his bonds. "I respect your
tenacity, my friend."
Arms and legs bound to a chair, Fawley rocked back and forth, still trying to prise himself free. He
hadn't tried to tip himself backwards, though. The chair was durable plastic, and all he would
achieve was a concussion.
"There are many similarities between you and I. Your methods are unorthodox. Your style is blunt,
and therefore effective."
Fawley ceased struggling for a moment, panting a little.
"So similar, in fact," Blithe continued, "that the people who should have been your allies from the
start still suspect that you are Blithe. You!"
Fawley looked at him, radiating hatred.
"Of course, that's exactly what I want them to think, but it's still difficult for me. I've allowed you
to take credit for all my hard work." He paused. "Until now, of course."
"Tell me something," said Fawley, his voice rough. "Why did you hire Taureau? I assume you
knew of our relationship."
Blithe smiled. "Like I said. We're similar. You tell me."
"You knew some aspect of the relationship would get out," he muttered. "Making me suspect
number one."
"Brilliant, isn't it?"
Fawley sighed, let his head hang back. He looked up at the high ceiling. They were in a large
warehouse. Empty, completely spotless, but for the two of them and the chair. "What now, then?
Why am I not dead yet? You going to torture me first?"
"I have no intention of torturing you, my friend."
"Then what do you want, Blithe?" The name was said derisively, and with a snort. "Are we simply
here for conversation?"
"I just want one question answered," Blithe said quietly. He crouched to look Fawley in the eye.
"Who else knows my identity? Who have you told?"
Fawley smiled widely, a smile of equal parts exhaustion and triumph. "Torture away, old friend.
Let's see how long I last, eh?"
"Don't do this, Emmett."
"You should have told me from the start that you wanted me to cooperate. I could have saved us
both the trouble."
"I'm not going to torture you."
"Well, it's either that, or you kill me."
"Yeah." Blithe sighed and raised his wand. "It seems I must figure it out myself."
"I think you'll have to," Fawley agreed.
"Goodbye, then," he said after a few more moments. "Our little games these past few months have
been exhilarating."
Fawley inclined his head. "Until we meet on the other side."
"Come now," said Blithe, smiling, "I think you'll be waiting quite some time for that, right?"
"Eh." Fawley shrugged. "I give you a year at best."
A laugh. Then, "Avada Kedavra."
Fawley's body went limp just as a door burst open. Taureau Barkley raced into the warehouse, and
his eyes locked onto the body in the chair immediately. "What have you done?" he roared. "What
have you done?"
"You," said Blithe, frowning. "What are you doing here?"
The face around those Aviator sunglasses contorted in fury, the figure clad in a salmon pink three-
piece suit grew closer and closer, and a wand was raised. Blithe knew intent to kill when he saw it.
"Oh, bother," he said.
The jet of green light shot at him, and he darted to the side. Jumped back three times, each time
just barely dodging a separate curse.
He stopped suddenly and raised his wand. "Avada-" He had to break off and dodge again.
Not for the first time, Blithe found himself smiling at how impressive Taureau Barkley was. He
needed to mount an offensive, or else he'd be facing a very abrupt and untimely death.
Running forward, Blithe prepared to launch a flurry of complex spells at the raging mass of
destruction he himself had employed, and one more time stopped short. A pulsing orb of white
light raced at him through the air. Blithe had seen that spell twice before, was well acquainted with
its effects.
With a few split-seconds in which to work, he worked. Blithe flicked his wand. The chair and
Fawley's body crashed into Taureau Barkley from behind, propelling him close to the orb which
looked ready to-
Blithe turned on the spot, apparated away, popped onto the street across the warehouse. A moment
later, a boom that he felt reverberate through his chest, and through the windows decorating the
upper portion of the structure was a flash of white light. The windows shattered, letting out clouds
of wispy, white smoke.
He turned, ignored the cries of alarm from the people on the street. He didn't have time to verify
the death of Barkley - didn't much care, either. A year of planning was reaching its conclusion, and
things would be moving much faster from now on, he knew.
There was no time to waste.
James sprinted into the Entrance Hall and up the stairs, Sirius by his side.
"How could you forget the Invisibility Cloak?" Sirius said accusingly.
James glared. "How could you forget your bloody suitcase?"
"It happens," Sirius muttered.
They reached the Second Floor, and then the Third, making great pace.
"I know what it was," said James suddenly, grinning. "You were preoccupied with McKinnon this
morning, weren't you?"
Sirius scowled. "No."
"Oh," said James in a high-pitched voice, "how I hate Easter break! I won't see you for a whole
week, Paddy-poo!" Then he lowered his voice. "Don't worry, McKinny. I'll come visit you every
day." The higher voice. "Oh, but my parents won't approve!" Then lower. "Forget your parents, and
your fiancé. All we need is our love."
"Remember when you were asking why McKinnon and I didn't want everyone to know?" Sirius
growled between breaths. "This is why. This is exactly why."
James smirked.
"Excuse me!"
The two paused, and James looked back.
Three men were down the corridor. James recognized them as the friends of Professor Windstrum
that he'd met in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore had since recruited them to join the fight against the
Death Eaters, and a more reassuring presence could not have been found. James had walked past
them on their way to Dumbledore's office a few times, and he'd found himself envious of how
easily they exuded power. Danylo, Artem, and Maksym were their names, and James was
incredibly glad they weren't the enemy.
"Do you know where Professor Windstrum is?" asked one of them. He had dark hair, but James
hadn't yet matched their names to their faces.
"No," said James. "He's probably gone home already, he tries to get out whenever he can. I think
he gets sick of the castle."
Another one of them nodded, a smirk on his angled face. "That sounds like Anton, alright."
"Maybe he's with Dumbledore, though," Sirius said. "Listen, we have to go. The train could leave
any time now."
"It leaves in half an hour," said the third one. His face was gentle, and he smiled. "You have plenty
of time. Relax."
James looked at Sirius. "How come the students aren't told what time it leaves?"
"To keep us on our toes?"
"They notify all students well in advance," said the first one, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, off with
you both. Have a good holiday."
James and Sirius nodded and turned. "You too," James called over his shoulder.
They neared the next set of stairs, and James' lungs screamed at him in exasperation.
"Some of the girls reckon those three look alright," said Sirius.
"Better than alright, the way I hear it. Merlin, put any halfway decent adult bloke in this school and
the girls go crazy."
"It's the maturity," said Sirius. "They love a good mature bloke."
James had stopped looking at each new set of stairs. It became too disheartening. "How on earth
do we get by, then?"
"You know, Prongs, I wonder the same thing myself." Sirius paused. "Oh, wait. We're brilliant."
"Ah, yes. That should just about do it."
They quietened then, saving their breaths as they ascended the levels.
"What about Evans, then?" Sirius asked after a while. "Does she reckon they look alright?"
"When you catch me talking to Evans about guys," James puffed, "I want you to kill me, Padfoot."
Sirius laughed. Then, "You really need to ask her out, Prongs." James said nothing. "I'm one
hundred percent sure she'll say yes."
James had a feeling she would, too. Things seemed so sure, these days. But… "I don't want to risk
it. I've ruined things too many times."
"Well, you'll have to eventually. Take too long and your chance will blitz right past you."
The portrait of the Fat Lady was finally in sight. James smiled wryly. "Should I be taking your
advice when your girlfriend is engaged?"
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Oh. In that case, there's no problem."
Sirius glowered. Then he sighed. "Shut it, Prongs."
James laughed.
Caradoc kicked an Auror in the chest, launched an elbow into the jaw of another.
This was the sixth safehouse they'd discovered in a month, and Caradoc didn't know how much
longer he could keep this up. One slip up, one bad day, and someone among the many people
hunting him down would either take him in or kill him. Caradoc wasn't ready for either of those
things. As tired as he was, he still had a job to do.
The third Auror reared up in front of him, a thin, snarling man, and Caradoc stunned him simply.
Looked around. Every opponent was down. Cardoc immobilized them all, and threw Floo powder
into the fireplace. Instantly, green flames burst up, and Caradoc wasted no time in popping his head
up into the fireplace of Albus Dumbledore's office.
"Anyone home?"
"Yes, we're here," said Anton Windstrum impatiently. With him was Dumbledore and three men
Caradoc vaguely recognized. "The train leaves in twenty minutes. What did you need to tell us so
desperately?"
"I don't have long either," said Caradoc swiftly. "The short of it is, I know Blithe's plan."
They all stared at him.
"Among other things, I've come across some valuable information taken from Emmett Fawley's
office - who is not Blithe, but more on that later - and I think I know how we can stop him."
"Caradoc, what on earth are you-" Anton started.
"No time." He looked at Dumbledore. "Professor, Blithe's got the Muggle Prime Minister under
the Imperius Curse."
Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles. "Are you sure?"
"Quite. But we have a window in which to stop him - a window in which we can finally capture
Blithe!" His face was hot, and there was ash in his mouth. By now he had done it many times, but
he reckoned he'd never grow fond of shoving his face into a fireplace. "And it's tomorrow."
Lily raced through the corridors, her fear of missing the Hogwarts Express bringing her to a frenzy.
McGonagall could not have picked a worse time to have 'an urgent message for her'. The train
would leave for London in ten minutes, and Lily Evans was still in the castle. This sort of tardiness
was unprecedented.
Alice and Marlene had long since been on the train. Marlene had been particularly smug that Lily
would be running late, but Marlene hadn't had many opportunities to take the high ground to Lily
lately, so Lily allowed her that much.
She wondered if she'd see James over the break. Maybe that was how he'd finally ask her out. Or,
she supposed, maybe she'd just have to ask him out.
"Lily Evans!"
Lily stopped and whirled around.
Peeves the Poltergeist zoomed through the air towards her, and when he stopped in front of her he
puffed his chest out proudly. "McGonagall said if I saw you to tell you something, and I've
promptly forgotten what it was."
"Peeves," said Lily impatiently, "I don't have time for this."
"Time," said Peeves dreamily. "Funny thing, isn't it?"
"Peeves," Lily growled.
"Did you know time is a social construct?"
She raised her wand. "I swear to God, Peeves-"
"Okay, okay!" Peeves grinned, then frowned a little. "No, I really have forgotten what it was."
Lily gritted her teeth and lowered her wand. "Great. If that will be all, then…"
"Ah!" Peeve's face brightened. "I am to tell Lily Evans that her parents are dead!" Then he
hesitated. "Condolences."
After a few seconds, and with a shrug, Peeves flipped head over heels and zoomed back down the
corridor, quickly lost from sight.
Through slippery fingers, Lily dropped her wand.

Wishful Thinking
From King's Cross station, James and Sirius apparated to Potter Manor. Beautiful lawns and
spectacular hedges, shaped with painstaking accuracy into assorted magical creatures, replaced the
station's crowd of busy bodies and the drabness of the middle-class. As little as James cared for his
family's mountain of wealth, he had to admit that it was certainly kinder to the eyes than the
dreadful realism that everyday life had on display.
"All I'm saying," said Sirius, shouldering open the front door and trudging inside before James, "is
that a one week break is excessive. We don't need a whole week for Easter."
"Are you mental, Padfoot?" James asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. They walked
through to the kitchen, where Sirius hopped onto the counter and James rummaged through the
pantry. "We get a week off school! I've never known you to complain about time off school."
Sirius shrugged. "I just think it distracts from our studies."
"No, you don't," James said, grabbing some shortbread and closing the pantry cupboard. They
walked from the kitchen to the stairs. "You want to be at school for another reason."
"Merlin," said James, "McKinnon's really done a number on you, hasn't she?"
"That's not why."
"You're going to miss her that much? That you'd rather be at school?"
Sirius said nothing again.
"My word, Sirius, you're not even together!"
"I know," Sirius snapped. "I know that. But I like her. And I know that I shouldn't like her-"
"Because she's engaged," said James through a mouthful of shortbread.
"Yes," said Sirius irritably, "because she's engaged. But I do, and I don't see that changing any time
soon. Honestly, the way you lot go at me, you'd think I've kicked a puppy."
James shrugged. "I don't really care, to be honest. As long as this whole business doesn't affect her
on the Quidditch pitch, I'm fine with you destroying a relationship."
"Right," said Sirius, wrinkling his nose.
As they approached the stairs, they found Mr Potter being berated by his wife. They were both
dressed to head out, and a chandelier was floating in the air beside them. Mrs Potter noticed the
two approach and paused her telling off of her husband to give them a hug and a kiss. "Boys," she
said warmly, "how was the train ride?"
"It was alright," said James. "Mum, the chandelier…"
"Yes, I know. Your father," she gave her husband a look and he stared at his shoes with great
interest, "thought it would be a good idea to 'upgrade' all our upholstery. For no good reason."
"To match the color pallete of the rooms," Mr Potter muttered.
"For no good reason," she said again. "Not realizing, or not appreciating, or perhaps simply
forgetting, that this house is centuries old and redecoration is not a simple matter. I caught him
before he could do more damage than removing a chandelier. Luckily."
"If you could see what I had planned-" he started.
"We do not need a talking chandelier."
"You haven't even considered it."
"What is there to consider?"
"Dear, you could talk to it."
She stared, then narrowed her eyes. "That's it? You had one reason?"
"Think about it-"
"So, you see," she said, turning back to James and Sirius with gritted teeth, "we've been here for
some time."
"I can imagine," said Sirius, looking as amused as ever by the two. "Are you guys heading out
now?"
"Yes," said Mr Potter quickly. "Dumbledore has called us away, so we'll have to postpone this
conversation, Euphemia, and finish it when we get home."
"Nothing is going to change."
"I think a change of scenery will give you a fresh perspective."
"It won't."
Mr Potter pressed on. "The chandelier can stay put, and we'll see how we feel when we get home."
"You're not even going to put it back?" James asked doubtfully.
"I don't actually know how to," Mr Potter admitted.
Mrs Potter closed her eyes, breathed in, and turned around. "We're going. If that chandelier gets
smashed, Fleamont…"
"Don't worry, dear," said Mr Potter, following her. "I cast my strongest charm on it."
"And what's that?"
"Wingardium Leviosa."
James heard her sigh before the two turned the corner. He shook his head while Sirius grinned, and
they skirted around the floating chandelier before climbing the stairs.
"I'm going to stop by McKinnon's place later, by the way. Not sure if I'll be back tonight."
James made a face at the implication. "Gross. Can't you guys just play board games or something?"
"It's funny you should mention that. Last week we played strip wizard's chess…"
Gathered in Albus Dumbledore's office were powerful, trusted witches and wizards preparing to
deal a devastating blow to the Death Eater forces. Minerva McGonagall stood behind the
Headmaster, who sat at his desk, Dedalus Diggle stood near Fleamont and Eugenia Potter, Anton
Windstrum and the three Ukranians he had recruited, Danylo, Artem, and Maksym, were with
Caradoc by the fireplace, and Sawyer Hughes and Harold Minchum had just walked in.
"If it isn't the men of the hour," said Anton cheerily. "Minister of Magic and his deputy."
Sawyer grinned. "It isn't official yet. The announcement gets made day after tomorrow."
"I am still looking into the murder of Emmett Fawley," said Harold, as serious and straight to the
point as ever. "The timing of his killing is unusual. He was in the running to be Minister, and had
allied himself with Morgan Bulstrode before he, too, passed. This suggests Fawley was allied with
the Death Eaters. But he was killed by a killing curse, so only a Death Eater would have killed him.
Why?"
"Caradoc has some information that might enlighten us all on that matter," said Dumbledore. He
gestured to him. "Caradoc."
"Yes," said Caradoc, stepping forward. He explained to them all his recent discovery of the
relationship between the late Emmett Fawley and the mercenary Taureau Barkley, and the
revelation that Fawley was, in fact, on their side, and had been fighting his own little war against
the Death Eaters by himself the whole time. "Fawley, more than anything, was desperate to
become the Minister. He needed the power. That is why he allied himself with the likes of Morgan
Bulstrode. In order to try to beat you, Sawyer, by any means necessary. His methods were very
unorthodox. But he was a good man."
They were all silent for a few moments.
"What else did you learn?" Sawyer asked quietly.
"Well, Fawley's house was a treasure trove of information, as it turned out. I looked around, and
found that he had documented all he knew of Blithe's plan, and Blithe's movements."
"Who's Blithe?" whispered Dedalus Diggle.
"A Death Eater," said Anton. "Caradoc and I have been trying to pin him down for almost a year
now. He's someone who most likely works in the Ministry, and has passed on all sorts of
information to their side that very few people should know."
"I was so sure it was Fawley," Caradoc muttered. "But now… who knows?"
Dedalus looked troubled at the idea of a spy in the Ministry. They all did, in fact. Dumbledore
prompted Caradoc. "What did you learn about Blithe from Fawley's study?"
"Everything we need to take him down," said Caradoc, assurance filling his voice. "I know his
plan now. He has the Muggle Prime Minister under the Imperius Curse, and intends to use him to
allow Voldemort to take over the country completely. Borders will be shut, police will be under his
thumb, and if he controls the Muggles, he controls the narrative. They'll get the Muggles on their
side first to flush us out, tell them we're the bad guys, and once we're out of the way they'll have
free reign. There would be absolutely nothing stopping him and his nutter master from mass
genocide. With no one in Britain left to fight them, we might just have the first Wizarding world
war on our hands."
"And your solution is?" asked Euphemia Potter.
Caradoc smiled. "Fawley knew all this, and made many preparations in response. His first plan
was to take Blithe down yesterday. Blithe had made contact with him, you see, and had told him
where his base of operations was, a warehouse which was burnt down during their encounter last
night. Fawley went to confront Blithe there. Clearly he bit off more than he could chew, but his
work wasn't in vain. His next plan was even bigger. He knew of the underground complex that
makes up the Death Eaters' headquarters. How he learned this, I have no clue. I was only aware of
it after I infiltrated their ranks as a spy. Regardless, as Head of the Auror Department he planned to
organize a raid on the warehouse."
"What would that have had to do with Blithe, though?" asked Fleamont Potter.
"He knew that Blithe is going to be in that underground complex," said Caradoc, eyes gleaming.
"Tonight."
Lily walked through her living room like a ghost, unresponsive to anything around her. Family and
friends crowded the place, crying and talking in quiet, grieving voices. They would give her
sympathetic glances, hugs, weepy kisses. Some would ask her how she was faring. That she found
particularly stupid. Her parents were dead. How did they think she was faring?
Unresponsive to anything around her. Her parents were dead. Murdered.
The permanence of a deed was her harsh truth. Something done was something done, and there was
no reversal, not even with magic. Not really. Her parents died returning home from their holiday,
and that was that. It had happened, and no matter how much Lily wished a thing that happened
didn't happen, it had. They were gone, and she'd never see them again.
She fought against the urge to break into the Ministry and steal a Time-Turner, save her parents'
lives and generate a reality in which she didn't have this awful new development thrust upon her.
But that wasn't how it worked. Something done was something done.
And now she had to deal with it. Dead parents.
Lily brought herself back into the moment and looked around. Stood straighter, caught the eye of
an auntie and smiled politely, nodded, and-
She couldn't do it, shut her eyes against the flood of tears that was ready to burst forth and hurried
from the room, face in the crook of her elbow as she strode to the front door, ran outside and ran
some more, reached the street pavement and collapsed, sobbing, tears, snot, moans, and cries of
unintelligible, undiluted anguish.
She didn't know how long she weeped, wiping her filthy face on her sleeve and weeping more, for
the whole street to see. She didn't care how long, or who saw. Other people were the least of her
concern. The peak of grief was the one time she could allow herself to be her most selfish and think
only of how much she had lost, not sparing a single thought for others. For someone like Lily
Evans, whose every thought seemed usually to dwell only on others, this was a climax of relief,
woe, and a sudden surge of all the bad and sad thoughts that every person tucks away into the
corner of their mind with the hopes of being forgotten, only to be dwelled upon when next they
reached their lowest.
This was Lily's time to dwell. Her sister hated her, her first and best friend at Hogwarts had been
truly lost. She'd been born into the lowest caste of her community, forced to reconcile herself with
obstacles of suppression and hatred while being scorned in her efforts to rise above it all, and while
she had classes to attend and exams discernible on the horizon, a war was being fought, lives were
being lost, so that people like her might have a peaceful future. There were so many things that
were awful about everything, and Lily didn't know what to do about any of it. Couldn't do
a thing about any of it. It was all completely and utterly hopeless.
Footsteps approached, and a figure sat beside her - a figure that hadn't sat beside her in a long, long
time. "The neighbours will see you."
Lily wiped her face and stared at Petunia, her body still wracked by involuntary sniffs and
shudders. "Bollocks to the neighbours."
A smile with sad eyes. "Even Mrs Morrisson?"
"Bollocks especially to Mrs Morrisson."
"She dotes on you, though. Mum used to always take us over to hers, remember?"
"Yeah."
A pause. "She hates me."
"You said her upholstery was tacky."
"I make no apologies for having taste, Lily."
Lily snorted between sniffs, looked at her sister for a few more moments. Then, "This is all my
fault, Tuney." She elaborated when Petunia looked at her blankly. "Mum and Dad, I mean."
"How in the world do you figure that?"
"They came back early from holiday in time for my Easter break. For me! It's because of me that
they- that they-"
"All those fancy tricks they teach you at that school, yet not a lick of common sense," Petunia
interrupted with a sigh.
Lily swallowed and wiped her face with her sleeve once more, unable to continue.
"Their wanting to see you was only one of the many, many things that led to what happened to
them, Lily. Is the killer's mother to blame for giving birth to him? Or his grandmother? How about
whoever manufactured his knife? Or the chicken that laid his breakfast? Because those are all
things that also led to that moment. I could name millions more."
"That's not the point," Lily said stubbornly.
"Well, it's a rubbish point," Petunia replied, every bit as stubborn, "borne from the irresistible urge
to pin blame somewhere, even if at yourself. I'm doing the same. I could have talked them out of
their holiday, or even gone with them. But that gets me nowhere. The blame lies with the killer,
and only the killer. Someday, I know retribution will find him."
Lily couldn't believe what she was hearing, could still barely believe Petunia was here with her at
all. And Petunia really didn't blame her? "When did you become so wise?"
"You'd be surprised," said Petunia, "how much wisdom is in those magazines I read."
Lily snorted again. Then, tentatively, she leaned closer and rested her head on her sister's shoulder.
She felt Petunia hesitate before putting an arm around her.
"I've changed my mind about something," Petunia said eventually, sounding the smallest bit
cautious. "I want you to be the Maid of Honor at my wedding."
Lily didn't have room for the tide of emotions that wanted to rise up inside her. She simply
hummed. "That would be nice."
"So Blithe gives his reports every week at these underground headquarters?" said Fleamont Potter.
"Why didn't we do something about these headquarters a long time ago?"
"It would have been a small victory," said Dumbledore, "at the cost of what has proved to be
valuable intelligence over these last few months."
"Haven't you been visiting these headquarters frequently?" Harold asked of Caradoc. "As a spy?
How have you only just learned that Blithe is there once a week?"
"I wouldn't say I visit it frequently," Caradoc said defensively. "And very few people are aware of
Blithe's movements. Most of them don't even know about him."
"Now, however," said Dumbledore, "we are in a position to stop him."
Caradoc nodded. "So what should we do?"
Dumbledore gestured to Sawyer. "We are in the presence of our soon-to-be Minister. I am sure he
knows."
Sawyer nodded appreciatively. "We should send a crack team in. The raid Fawley had planned
won't work, we want Caradoc to remain undercover for now. We'll simply go in, grab Blithe, and
get out."
"And how are we going to do that?" asked Dedalus Diggle.
"I have an idea," said Caradoc. "I'll get us in, pretending that I've captured the other members of
the team."
Anton nodded happily. "That's good. They'll have to be the more prolific of the lot of us in order to
sell it. Sawyer and Harold, I think."
"Brilliant," said Caradoc. "I'll need an accomplice, too. Someone they'll believe is a Death Eater, or
at least sympathetic."
"That's us in a nutshell," said Artem with a wry smile on his angled face. Beside him Danylo and
Maksym smirked.
Caradoc nodded. "I'll admit, the three of you do look somewhat intimidating."
"We need to make the bait more enticing," said Anton.

"What, the Minister and his deputy isn't enough for you?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"It's still two people, with four supposed Death Eaters. And if we cut down on our fake Death
Eaters, our little team is decidedly less potent."
"Increase the bait, then," said Caradoc with a nod. "The next most prolific is, then, Mr Fleamont
Potter, ex-Head of the Auror Department."
Fleamont's business-like demeanor instantly switched to that of an excited school child, and a grin
flitted onto his face. "Oh, you've made my day, Caradoc, m'boy."
"Don't think I'm not coming, too," warned Euphemia Potter.
"Of course," said Caradoc. "Catching one of you without the other would make things suspicious,
after all."
"A team of eight," said Dumbledore. "Will that suffice?"
"One more, Professor," said Caradoc. "We just want a little more strength."
Almost everyone in the room gave a knowing sigh.
"Is it me?" asked Anton. "It's me, isn't it?"
"It's you."
A wide grin. "Brilliant."
"You still have immense influence in the political sphere, and you've somehow become something
of a celebrity to many people. An excellent addition to our bait."
Anton beamed. "We're all set, then."
"Hold on," said Dumbledore. "That will not work."
"What do you mean?" Caradoc asked.
"Do you recall the power structure we established during our first meeting, should Sawyer be
successful in becoming the Minister? It was to be Sawyer, with Harold by his side, and in the worst
case scenario Anton will take their place. You are now proposing we send all three of them on this
mission."
"It'll be fine," said Anton impatiently. "We have more than enough strength to ensure nothing goes
awry."
"Indulge me," said Dumbledore. "Let us be cautious. Harold should stay, as the already established
deputy. The bait is already as enticing as it is going to get."
"Back down to eight people, then," said Caradoc, wrinkling his nose. "One fake Death Eater for
each fake prisoner. It's not the surest looking thing in the world."
"Dedalus will go in Harold's stead then," Dumbledore decided.
Dedalus jumped. "Me?"
"Him?" Caradoc asked doubtfully.

"I'm no-one," said Dedalus. "I'm hardly going to make good bait!"
"Nonsense," said Fleamont, clapping him on the back. "You're just as good a bait as the rest of us,
Diggle."
"Thank you," said Dedalus miserably.
"Are we all in agreement then?" Dumbledore asked, looking around his office at each of the figures
gathered.
"We are," said Caradoc finally, nodding his head and squaring his shoulders. This was about as
well as they could have prepared. "Tonight, we'll put an end to this whole sorry affair."
Caradoc
James walked down the stairs from his bedroom to check what the House-elves were cooking for
dinner. With his parents out, he probably could have gotten one of them to bring his dinner up to
him, but he would have felt like a right prat for doing so. Besides, the dining room in Potter manor
was right by the kitchens, and James always had seconds.
He skirted around the chandelier his dad had left levitating in mid-air at the bottom of the staircase,
meandered through a hall, and heard voices from the dining room up ahead. The lights were on,
and the unmistakable smell of pork wafted through the air, alongside the sound of a fork and knife
working furiously. He stepped into the room and looked curiously at Sirius, who was tucking into
an enormous cut of sliced pork with gusto.
"I thought you were going to McKinnon's tonight," James said, sitting at the table and gesturing to
a House-elf.
Sirius swallowed a mouthful. "No." Went back to eating.
James shrugged, looked around aimlessly while he waited for the House-elf to bring him a plate.
Someone coughed from under the table.
James stared. Sirius froze, his fork inches from his mouth, a piece of pork hanging from it.
The House-elf then came back with a plateful of dinner, and James stood, took the plate, and
walked from the room.
"Have fun, you two." He closed the door behind him and snorted. "Damn kids."
Four fake Death Eaters and five fake prisoners apparated into the clearing in the middle of the
Welsh woodland. Caradoc Dearborn took the lead and the others followed, standing back as he
crouched and placed his hands on the ground. With a rumbling and a criss-crossing of cracks
running through a portion of the ground, that portion slid under the rest of the ground, revealing a
metal staircase going down into the brightly lit corridor hiding beneath their very feet.
Wasting no time, Caradoc descended the stairs, placing his footfalls lightly, making no noise. The
others followed suit, and when they were all in the corridor, he tapped the grey wall with his wand
and with a rumble the ground above them, or rather the ceiling, slid back into place.
They were in. Now the key would be to go undetected for as long as possible.
Caradoc whirled around. Walking towards them were two masked Death Eaters, hands moving
towards the wands fixed onto their belts. Caradoc stepped forward and raised his hands. "Relax,"
he said easily. "These are my prisoners."
The Death Eater who had spoken looked behind Caradoc. "All eight of them?"
"No, ah, five of them. The other three are on our side." Danylo, Artem, and Maksym nodded and
stepped away from the would-be prisoners.
The Death Eater gasped. "Is that Sawyer Hughes? And Fleamont and Euphemia Potter?"
"And that's Anton Windstrum," said the other one, equally stunned. "These are some of our biggest
enemies."
"I don't know who the fifth one is, though," the Death Eater admitted.
"Who? Me?" asked Dedalus Diggle.
"That's Dedalus Diggle," said Artem quickly in his thick Ukrainian accent. "He's a notorious
Auror."
Caradoc nodded, looked back at the Death Eaters. "I'm sure you've heard of him. You just don't
remember."
"Maybe," said the Death Eater, rubbing his neck.
"Where are you taking them?" asked the other Death Eater. "To Rodolphus?"
"Rodolphus? Rodolphus Lestrange?" Caradoc laughed. "He's so busy, there's no need to bother him
with this."
"That's the future Minister of Magic, though. And the last two Potters, as well as a Hogwarts
professor! These are Dumbledore's closest allies!"
"And Dedalus Diggle," said the first Death Eater.
"Yeah, and Dedalus Diggle."
"No, no," said Caradoc dismissively. "We'll just put them in a cell and be done with it. Tell you
what, I can notify Rodolphus about it later, how about that?"
The Death Eaters hesitated.
"I suppose," said the first one.
"Wait," said the other suddenly, "why are they not restrained?"
Caradoc paused, looked back at his companions standing about, looking tense but notably free.
"Stupefy," yelled Anton, and the first Death Eater flew back, head hitting the wall hard.
Caradoc shrugged and slugged the other one on the mask so hard it came clean off, clanging onto
the ground, and he followed with a swift left hook to the cheek. The Death Eater pirouetted before
hitting the ground.
Turning, Caradoc looked at the others. "Let's get moving then, shall we?"
They advanced down the corridor quickly, Caradoc in the lead once more. Artem was a step
behind him. Caradoc was pleased with the three Ukranians' performance so far. He judged one's
aptitude for fighting evil based on their ability to lie under pressure. Caradoc's own aptitude was, if
he said so himself, off the charts.
Ahead, the corridor broke off to the right, and the group paused before the turn. Fleamont Potter
stepped forward, waved his wand and closed his eyes. After a second, he nodded, and they took the
turn to the next corridor. Empty.
They proceeded in much the same fashion for some time, and Caradoc noticed a significant lack of
Death Eaters, aside from the two they'd immediately run into. He considered it a blessing and a
curse - it meant the further they went, the more likely a run-in would become, and the more
outnumbered they were likely to be. It did not bode well.
"I presume," said Euphemia as they traversed yet another corridor, "that you know where we are
going?"
"Of course," said Caradoc. This corridor was dimly lit. In fact, the further they went, the less
presentable their surroundings became. It had never surprised Caradoc that the Death Eaters, as
rich and spoiled as they all were, thrived in squalor. The Slytherin Common Room was in the
dungeon, after all. "Blithe will be in one of three places, depending on who it is that he's here to
report to. There's a room where the Death Eaters gather in mass, but if that were the case then I,
too, would have been summoned. There's a room for more direct meetings with the higher ups, but
even then I doubt it. Almost none of the Death Eaters know what Blithe looks like. I doubt even the
higher ups. No, I suspect he'll be in the third place."
"And what's the third place?" asked Sawyer. "The kitchens?"
"No. It's the place where, on rare occasion, one might find Lord Voldemort."
The others walked quietly for a few seconds, before Anton spoke up. "So what is it? A throne
room?"
"Not quite," said Caradoc. "The room holds a small table, and Voldemort sits at that table while all
the others stand in front of him and relay information. I'd imagine it's the only room in this place
that Blithe frequents. But we'll comb through the others first."
After another silence, Dedalus asked, "Do you think he'll be here?"
There was no need to ask who the 'he' in question was.
"No," said Caradoc. "I don't. It has to be someone else. Fawley's intel said Blithe makes these
reports weekly, and Voldemort is rarely here at all. We would have to be very, very unlucky." He
saw the look on Dedalus' face, and continued, "And if he is here, then we'll make a tactical retreat.
Very quickly, I might add."
Dedalus nodded, looking at least a little appeased.
"If Blithe's weekly reports aren't necessarily made to Voldmort," said Fleamont, "then
who are they made to?"
Caradoc had been wondering the same thing. "We need to hurry," was all he said.
Danylo grunted. "Someone has probably found the bodies of those two Death Eaters by now."
They all picked up the pace.
Before too much longer, the corridor split three ways. Left would lead to the room for Death Eater
gatherings, where Caradoc had visited the first time he came here. Right would lead to the room
for smaller meetings. If they continued going straight, they would eventually reach the room where
Voldemort made his fleeting appearances.
"I think we should split up," said Fleamont. "We don't have time to do each corridor together."
"I agree," said Sawyer.
Caradoc nodded. "I'll go left. There will be more of them there, and I have the best chance of lying
my way out. Anton, Sawyer, I'll bring you two along as prisoners."
"And the rest of us will go right, then?" asked Maksym.
"That's right," said Caradoc. "There will be less Death Eaters, so the six of you should be able to
fight your way through. Meet back here when you're done."
"Can I come with you, Caradoc?" asked Dedalus. "I'm not much of a duelist, is all. I'd much rather
go with the lying team than the fighting team."
Fleamont frowned. "You're an Auror."
"I am," Dedalus admitted.
"Dedalus," said Fleamont, "I was the Head of the Department a few months ago. How on earth did
you get in?"
"My examiner was unwell, he had to leave early, so he passed everyone."
"What? What was his name?"
"Is now the time?" asked Caradoc. "Dedalus, you're with us, then. Now let's go!"
They each nodded and split off, the Ukrainians and Potters going one way and Caradoc the other,
with Anton, Sawyer, and Dedalus a step behind, his 'prisoners'.
"You know," muttered Sawyer, "I'll be the Minister of Magic in two days, Dedalus. You really
shouldn't be talking about how bad you are at your job in front of me."
"But we're friends," said Dedalus blankly.
"That's not the point."
"You're not going to fire me, though, right?"
"Well, no, but-"
"So it's fine?"
"It's not fine," Sawyer insisted. "I can't always turn a blind eye just because I like you."
"That's sweet of you to say."
"No, that's not the point-"
"Shut it," said Caradoc suddenly. They'd arrived by a door at the end of the corridor with light
leaking out from under. "I'm going to bind your hands. The three of you will stay behind me, I'll
check the room for Blithe, and then we'll head back. All clear?"
"Crystal," said Anton.
Caradoc nodded, flicked his wand, and the three of them had ropes binding their wrists. He turned
and opened the door.
It was large, bright. More than a dozen Death Eaters stood idly around the room with two other
Death Eaters before them, masks off. The lot of them turned when the door opened. One of the
unmasked Death Eaters had a fresh bruise on his cheek.
Caradoc's eyes widened.
The Death Eater gasped and pointed. "That's them!"
Caradoc shut the door hurriedly, and before he could even turn around it was blasted off its hinges,
smashing into him and throwing him off his feet. Death Eaters charged out of the room, yelling and
brandishing their wands like battle axes. He got back up, dodged a killing curse, stunned a Death
Eater.
"Caradoc," yelled Anton.
"What?"
Anton headbutted a Death Eater hard, and held up his bound wrists. "A little help!"
"Oh, bollocks."
He flicked his wand, then refocused his attention on the Death Eaters. Sawyer leaped into action,
consecutive jets of light shooting out of his wand so quickly it was like one continuous stream.
Dedalus had leaped onto a Death Eaters back, punching the top of his target's head. Caradoc waved
his wand, sent one Death Eater flying into another, and the next Death Eater came out of nowhere
and barged a shoulder into him. Caradoc stumbled back, looked up in time to catch a gloved fist to
the face, stumbled back again. He spun, dodged green light, flicked his wand and the Death Eater
cast a shield charm before firing off another killing curse. Caradoc let it pass by his head and ran
forward, rolled as the Death Eater shot yet another jet of green light, sprang up before his opponent
and tackled him-
The Death Eater apparated on the spot, just before contact, and Caradoc crashed onto the floor. He
rolled over, green light sizzling into the floor, got to his feet and threw up a hand. "Wait!"
The Death Eater paused.
"I-" Caradoc bent over and sucked in some air. "Just give me a moment."
"Sure," came the muffled voice of his opponent, sounding obnoxiously unfrazzled. "Take as long
as you need."
"Thank you," said Caradoc, straightening up and flicking his wand.
The Death Eater flew back, hit the wall, and fell.
Caradoc looked around, saw Anton whirling between three of his own Death Eaters. Caradoc ran
forward and disarmed the first one, following it with an elbow to the head. The Death Eater
dropped. The other two were on either side of Anton, and Caradoc moved beside his friend and
they stood, back to back, taking one each. Caradoc dispatched his quickly, but two more took that
place, and he grimaced.
"Want to swap?" asked Anton from behind him.
"How many do you have now?"

"Five."
"Then no."
A pause. "Four?"
"Still no."
Caradoc stunned one of his opponents, cast a full body-bind on the second, and when the last one
looked around at his friends Caradoc stunned him too. He turned, just in time to see Anton dispatch
his last opponent. The corridor was clear of any masked figures still standing. Anton looked at him,
gave him a wry smirk. "Your form is still off."
Caradoc snorted. "My form's always been better than yours, mate, and you know it."
"You seem to have forgotten Fourth Year."
Caradoc glared. "I asked you for help once. Once."
"Still asked."
"It was only an essay!"
"And if you'd done that essay yourself, your form might not be so sloppy."
"Oh, bugger off, Windstrum," he huffed, turning around.
Anton laughed behind him.
Sawyer was bending over Dedalus, who was lying on the ground, completely still. Caradoc rushed
over, his blood freezing, but Sawyer looked up at him and rolled his eyes. "Just unconscious. He
got knocked out, almost immediately."
Caradoc paused, and then sighed. "Oh, Diggle."
"I'm not carrying him."
"We'll just levitate him," said Anton, looking at Dedalus with a wrinkled nose.
"No," said Caradoc. "Unconscious, he'll be safer here. We don't know what lies ahead."
"We can't leave him with all these Death Eaters, 'Doc."
"We don't have a choice. Look," he cast a disillusionment charm, and Dedalus' body slowly
became translucent, or close to. Squinting, his form was visible, but only upon close inspection.
"We have to leave him here, now let's go."
"I agree with him," said Sawyer. "In the fight ahead, he'll slow us down, and could get caught in
the crossfire. We don't have time for anything more secure right now, so let's go. He'll be fine."
Reluctantly, Anton nodded, and the three of them went back the way they came.
"Those two," said Caradoc as they walked, referring to the Death Eaters they had first encountered,
"managing to get here before us is unfortunate. They must know their way better than me, and now
the cat's out of the proverbial bag because of it. I'd imagine my time as a spy has come to an end."
Sawyer nodded. "On the bright side, you will no longer need to be on the run. Now that we can
reveal you've been a spy this whole time, the Auror Department will stop hunting you down."
"I've gone from being hunted by every party in the game to being in the clear," said Caradoc,
smiling slowly. "It will be good to finally get some rest."
"You've earned it," Anton told him. "You've really done a fantastic job, mate."
"Ah, no getting sentimental on me, Anton. It's unbecoming of you."
Anton grinned.
The three of them reached the intersecting corridors again, where the other five were waiting for
them, looking slightly worse for wear, but decidedly better than them.
"I take it they didn't buy the lie?" asked Euphemia, an eyebrow raised at their ragged appearance.
"You are correct," said Caradoc. "How did it go on your end?"
"Bit of a fight," said Fleamont, "but we showed them what for in the end, didn't we boys?" The
Ukranians started agreeing cheerily, and Euphemia looked at Fleamont, hand on hip. "And, er,
wife. We all showed them what for."
"It's no wonder they say the Ministry is a boy's club," she said, shaking her head. "What would you
have done if James was a girl, Fleamont?"
"I'd have asked for a refund," he said, nudging Artem, who sniggered. He looked at his wife again
and straightened. "I'm joking, of course. I would have celebrated. I would have preferred a girl to a
boy, in fact. What with the dresses and the drama-"
"Drama?"
"Pregnancy, menstruation," Fleamont continued.
"On Fleamont's behalf," said Caradoc loudly, "I'm going to put us all back on topic. I'm assuming
you didn't find Blithe?"
"No," said Maksym. "We took off all their masks. They were all known Death Eaters."
"Were we supposed to do that?" Sawyer muttered.
"No, there was no need," said Caradoc. "Blithe doesn't strike me as the robe and mask wearing
type. Besides, he was never going to be in that room. So few people have seen him - I doubt he
gives reports to roomfulls of Death Eaters."
"What now, then?" asked Anton. "Onwards?"
Caradoc nodded. "Onwards."
They took the third and final corridor, walked along it until they came to a dim room. Caradoc
approached a door on the far side, looked back at them all. "Prisoners at the ready."
The three Ukranians grabbed Sawyer, Fleamont, and Eugenia. Caradoc took Anton's arm. Looked
back at the door. Slowly, he opened it, stepped through, and-
It was empty.
Dimly lit, a small table, a small chair. All empty. No Voldemort, no Blithe.
Caradoc breathed out, a long breath. He looked back at the others and left the small room, shaking
his head. "We must have missed it."
"What about that door?" asked Anton, pointing to a closed door opposite the empty room. "Where
does that lead?"
Caradoc looked over. "I haven't been there."
"Could Blithe be giving his report there?"
"It's the only other place," said Caradoc slowly.
Caradoc approached the door, the others a step behind, put a hand to the handle.
"Caradoc," said Anton. Caradoc glanced behind, and Anton looked at him for a few seconds before
nodding. "Let's do it."
Caradoc opened the door and stepped through, into a large, brightly lit room. On the far side were
some steps, and atop those steps, a chair.
Sitting in the chair was Rodolphus Lestrange.
"Hello, Dearborn. Brought some friends?"
The others entered the room behind Caradoc, and paused, tilting their hands at the single enemy.
No other doors, no other foes in the room.
"Yes," said Caradoc. "Some prisoners."
"Ah," said Rodolphus. "The Potters, some foreigners, a teacher, and the future Minister of Magic.
All unbound, too. You must be quite intimidating."
"These ones," said Caradoc, indicating the Ukranians, "are with me."
Artem, Maksym, and Danylo stepped forward on cue, each bringing their prisoner along by the
arm. Caradoc pulled Anton forward by the arm, too.
"I see," said Rodolphus. "And why bring them here, precisely? To this room? We have many,
many cells spread throughout this place."
"They needed to go to the toilet."
Rodolphus smiled. "Is that right?"
"That's right."
Rodolphus seemed to consider this for a few seconds, before laughing shortly. "You really had me
fooled, you know. All this time. You had me properly fooled. I entered your mind the day you first
came here, do you remember? I was so sure you were one of us."
Caradoc's shoulders dropped, and he let go of Anton.
"When I learned you were a spy, a double agent, no, a triple agent, working for Dumbledore, I
was, to be quite honest, flabbergasted."
Caradoc frowned. "You're well informed."
"Only as of recently, don't you worry. Now, why did you come here, Dearborn? To catch Blithe?"
Rodolphus laughed.
"That's right," said Caradoc. "And you're going to tell me who he is, and where I can find him."
Rodolphus looked at him pityingly. "I'm going to have to spell this out for you, aren't I? Think,
Dearborn. Blithe is giving a report today? Really? Blithe gives reports once a week? Really?"
Rodolphus laughed again. "You think the man whose identity remains a secret to almost every
Death Eater gives us 'weekly reports'? Come now, Dearborn. You're a smart man. You must see it
was a trap."
"A trap for Fawley," Caradoc realized. "Blithe let him find out about the weekly reports. So it was
never true?"
"Of course not."
"So you would have killed Fawley today… But then he went after Blithe yesterday, and died then
instead."
"Now the question is," said Rodolphus, sitting forward, eyes gleaming, "did we cancel the trap, or
are you in it right at this moment?"
Caradoc looked around at the others, who all stared at Rodolphus bemusedly, and Caradoc gave
Rodolphus a pointed look. "You don't seem to have realized your situation, Lestrange."
"No," said Rodolphus loudly, standing. "No, no, no. You haven't realized your situation."
Caradoc's wand rose the moment Rodolphus moved, trained on the man. "You're under arrest."
"Who is Blithe?" Rodolphus asked, descending the stairs. "Surely you've figured it out by now."
Caradoc moved forward, levelling his wand at Rodolphus' face. "Not one more step."
Rodolphus ignored him still, started walking past him, and Caradoc pressed his wand into the
man's throat. Rodolphus sneered. "Stun me. Disarm me. Bind me. It matters not. You won't kill
me, and so I frankly don't care what you do."
"No?" Caradoc breathed. "Not even if I put you in a cell for the rest of your life? The Dementors
don't make great conversation, Lestrange."
"Threaten me one more time," Rodolphus whispered, looking strangely excited. "I just want to hear
it again."
"Rodolphus Lestrange," said Caradoc, "you are under arrest."
Rodolphus closed his eyes. "Famous last words, indeed."
Sawyer yelled something and Caradoc was knocked back and the jet of green light missed him by
an inch, shooting from Rodolphus' wand, hidden up a sleeve, and hitting the wall. Sawyer ran
forward then, wand trained on Rodolphus, teeth bared, and Caradoc hit the ground, found Anton by
his side, was helped to his feet. Caradoc looked up in time to see Sawyer start to wave his wand
while running, saw green light hit him from behind and he dropped.
"No," Caradoc roared.

Rodolphus cackled. "In front of you the whole time, Dearborn!"
Artem lowered his wand. Beside him, Euphemia turned to the Ukranian, eyes wide in fury at the
betrayal. A knife appeared, and from behind her Danylo reached round and slit her throat.
"Right in front of your eyes," yelled Rodolphus.
Fleamont whirled, flicked his wand and Maksym, knife of his own in hand, was flung backwards,
head cracking against the wall. Another flick of the wand and Artem too went careening away, hit
a wall. He turned to Danylo in time to have that knife, already slick with his wife's blood, buried
deep into his belly.
"You see it now, don't you, Dearborn?" Rodolphus gloated. "Blithe was right there all along!"
Caradoc turned slowly. "No," he breathed.
Anton Windstrum looked at him with sorrowful resolve. "I am sorry, my friend."
Caradoc looked into the eyes of his best friend, saw the green light flash in them before it hit him,
and then death clamped its jaws shut around him, after chasing him down for so, so long.
Fury
James had been thinking of Lily when it happened. At some point over the Easter break, surely, it
would be acceptable for him to stop by her place. They were friends, after all. And her parents
loved him. She would be happy to see him, he should definitely stop by her place. The sooner the
better, in fact. Was his analysis on the matter impacted at all by the feeling in the pit of his stomach
that something was missing from his life when she wasn't with him? Perhaps. But also they were
friends, and that was the reasoning he was running with.
He was grabbing a cloak and pondering how mad she'd be if he barged into her house at eleven
o'clock at night when he heard it.
A crashing, a shattering, of something into pieces, and then the shattering of those pieces.
James sprinted past the House-elves and into the hall by the stairs to see a chandelier,
what had been a chandelier at any rate, lying in thousands of little glass and crystal shards on the
marble floor.
"Dad had levitated that," James said to no-one at all, frowning. "His charms don't simply wear off."
"Um…"
James glanced around. The House-elves had gathered before him, looking up at him with duty in
their eyes. Something else, too. Grief.
"It seems," said one of them, Fidget, with his wide blue eyes and squeaky voice, "that our
ownership has changed."
As one, the elves lowered themselves and bowed before him, foreheads and floppy ears touching
the ground. "Master."
It was the peace of knowing he was exactly where he was supposed to be that brought the dumb
grin to Sirius' face.
"What are you smiling about?" asked Marlene.
They lay on her bed. Her head was nestled in the crook of his neck, her nose touching his cheek,
delicate fingers splayed against his bare chest.
"This," he said, kissing her forehead. "Right now, there's not a single other thing in the world that I
want. This is perfection."
She shifted upwards so their lips were level, a hair's breadth apart, her eyes twinkling deviously. "Is
that right?" Her slender leg slipped between his. "There's nothing you want?"
"Well," Sirius whispered, grabbing a buttock-
The door burst open and Sirius' head was shoved down, a blanket thrown over him.
"Mum, I'm naked!"

She was. Sirius' cheek was pressed against her belly, rising and falling as she breathed. The air was
hot.
"Oh, I'm not looking, dear," came the voice of Marlene's mother. Sirius had never seen her before.
How could he, when he was shoved under a blanket when the opportunity arose? "Your father
wants you to join us for breakfast today, as we didn't see much of you yesterday after we picked
you up. What did Lily want, anyway, on your first day back from school? Is she alright?"
Marlene hadn't gone to Lily's the previous day, of course. She had... visited Sirius at Potter Manor.
She'd visited him again in the gardens, visited quite quickly on the street, before they'd settled at
her place. Where they visited once more.
"Lily's good," said Marlene quickly. "Is that all, Mum?"
"Yes, yes, I'll leave you. Will you be down for breakfast soon?"
"In a bit."
"Okay, dear." The door closed.
Sirius burst from under the blankets and sat up, sucking in some fresh air. "I still think you should
just introduce me to her."
"You know I can't," she said, sitting up with him. "In case you've forgotten, I'm technically
betrothed."
Sirius grimaced. He hated being reminded.
"Not even technically," she continued. "Literally. I'm literally betrothed."
A conversation they'd had many times, and one they both grew weary of, was prevented by an owl
slipping through a window and into the room. It was James' owl, and Sirius stretched his arm out.
It landed, stuck out its leg, and Sirius removed the offered piece of parchment, torn and written on
hastily.
"What does James want?" Marlene asked.
Sirius read it, re-read it, perfection crashing down around him.
Marlene leaned close and read it over his shoulder, and she gasped.
The password was sweetroot liquorice, and James stepped past the stone gargoyle, strode up the
moving staircase, and burst into Dumbledore's office.
Dumbledore, Harold Minchum, and Professor McGonagall stood around his desk, pouring over
many sheets of parchment. They all turned and stared at him. "Potter," said McGonagall, "what in
the world are you doing here at this hour?"
James ignored the question, looked straight at Dumbledore. "Where are they? Where are my
parents?"
Confusion was a response rarely captured on Dumbledore's face, but now the old man looked at
James with the furrowed brows of bemusement. "They're off on a mission with Caradoc Dearborn.
What's the matter, James?"
James growled and strode forward. McGonagall stuck a hand out, keeping him at bay, seeming to
sense James' churning coalescence of many erratic emotions. "Potter," she started.
The fireplace lit up, roared and flashed green, and Dedalus Diggle collapsed onto the floor.
They all stared before rushing over to him, James' fear being slowly confirmed hint by little hint.
"Dedalus," said Harold, crouching by the man, "what's wrong? What happened?"
"Dead," croaked Dedalus. "They're all dead."
Dumbledore looked quickly at James before back down at Dedalus. "You need to tell us what
happened. Can you do that?"
"It was… a trap… he-" With a last groan, the task proved too much, and Dedalus passed out on the
carpet.
Dumbledore took out his wand, placed it to Dedalus' temple, and drew it away. With it came a thin,
silvery wisp of something, turning into a strand, before the last of it snapped off from Dedalus'
temple and hung from Dumbledore's wand, twirling in the air.
Dumbledore moved swiftly to a shallow stone basin, decorated with strange symbols carved into it,
floating in the air by a number of metal instruments. "Come along," he said.
McGonagall and Harold followed him over, and James went too, not caring whether or not the
invitation was extended to him. If it hadn't been, Dumbledore gave no hint of it on his face when
James joined them by the strange dish - a Pensieve, James realized, as Dumbledore dropped the
strand of memory into it and the silvery thread sank and swirled and spun, rippled, and then a sheen
spread out over the surface of the Pensieve with moving figures running across it.
"My parents," James murmured.
Dumbledore lowered his head into the bowl, and in a split-second his body shot towards the
surface, and he was gone. One by one, they followed him in.
A corridor, dirty, dimly lit.
"I'm not carrying him."
James looked around. Beside him were McGonagall and Harold. Ahead, Dumbledore stood, arms
crossed, watching the scene before them.
Dedalus lay still on the ground, Sawyer Hughes bending over him, Caradoc Dearborn and Anton
Windstrum by his side.
"We can't leave him with all these Death Eaters, 'Doc," said Anton.
James looked closer at their surroundings.
Unmoving forms of many, many Death Eaters littered the ground, wands discarded. The walls
were singed with missed curses. A fight had taken place here.
"Look," said Caradoc. He flicked his wand, and Dedalus' body slowly became translucent. A
disillusionment charm. "We have to leave him here, now let's go."
The three men headed off down the corridor, leaving Dedalus behind. Dedalus groaned, rolled
over and blinked up at the ceiling. "Come back," he mumbled.
For perhaps a minute he lay there, breathing slowly.
James glanced at the others. They were quiet, seeming content to wait for something more to
happen. He heard a noise and looked around.
Moaning, rubbing his head, a Death Eater with a bruise on his cheek slowly sat up, winced and
cursed to himself.
Dedalus stiffened at the sound. He looked down at his body, took in the fact that he was effectively
invisible. At a painstakingly measured pace, he put his hands to the ground and pushed himself up.
When he was standing, he moved, still so slowly, tip-toeing down the corridor in the direction that
Caradoc, Anton, and Sawyer had headed.
James and the others followed him. When he was far enough away he sped up and they sped up
with him, running along the corridor now, reaching an intersection of corridors, and they followed
as Dedalus took the sharp left, ran on. They eventually reached a large room with two open doors.
Voices could be heard from beyond one, and Dedalus made his way there, still moving as
cautiously as one would if they weren't as good as invisible.
They walked with him to the doorway and looked through.
A large, brightly lit room, on the far side some steps leading up to a chair. In the center of the
room stood Caradoc talking to Rodolphus Lestrange, both men snarling.
But James' attention was on the group standing closer to the door. Sawyer, Anton, the three
Ukranians James had met only once. And his parents. His heart lurched inside him as he looked at
them. There was confusion on their faces.
Rodolphus moved his arm, a wand sliding out from his sleeve, and Sawyer yelled, flicked his own
wand, blasted Caradoc off his feet just in time for Rodolphus' killing curse to sizzle harmlessly into
the wall. Sawyer ran forward and so many things happened at once. Many jets of green light shot
through the air, Sawyer hit the ground, dead. Euphenia Potter, her throat slit, gurgled and
collapsed, hands clutching her neck, dying in seconds. Fleamont Potter, a knife sticking out of his
belly, hit the ground beside his wife. He coughed blood for a few more seconds, blinking, white
faced, before his last breath left him.
One more flash of green light, and Caradoc, too, fell. Dead.
Dedalus whimpered, shaking, looking like he might collapse against the door frame.
After a few seconds, the Ukranian who had killed the Potters threw his head back and laughed.
"What a relief! I had to pretend I liked those fools. They're much better dead, I think."
Anton's wand rose in a flash and a jet of green light hit the man square in the chest.
"Danylo," roared the other two Ukranians, watching their friend topple and die before he hit the
ground.
"Those were good people," Anton said quietly, lowering his wand. "Better than any of you. I will
not allow their lives to be ridiculed."
"You'll pay, Windstrum," one of the Ukranians bellowed, raising his wand.
"You can die, too, then," Anton growled, his own wand rising once again.
"Calm down," said Rodolphus quickly. "Artem, our precious Blithe is feeling a little sensitive given
he just killed all his friends. You must excuse the little princess."
"You'll all die," Anton snarled, wand waving.
Dedalus turned on his heel, left the room at the fastest possible pace.
Their surroundings faded until there was nothing, and then-
James stepped back from the Pensieve, stumbling, his legs unsteady.
McGonagall rushed over to him, wrapped him in a tight hug. "Oh, Potter!"
Harold was staring into empty space. James' eyes rushed around the room from over McGonagall's
shoulder, looking for something, an answer, a solution to the thunderstorm pressing in on his mind.
His eyes found Dumbledore.
The Headmaster was completely still for the longest time. When he moved, McGonagall let James
go, looked at Dumbledore helplessly. "What do we do, Albus?"
Dumbledore walked over to a portrait of a stern faced woman wearing glasses, who was looking
out at them all confusedly. "Find Alastor Moody," he said quietly. "Tell him to floo to my office at
once. Then get a message to the rest of the Wizengamot. They are to activate emergency protocol,
allowing for Harold Minchum, as Sawyer's number two, to be sworn in as Minister of Magic
tomorrow morning."
The lady nodded, and left sideways through the frame of her portrait.
"Albus," McGonagall said again, louder, "what are we doing to do?"
Dumbledore waved his wand, and his long hair was tied up into a top knot, his free flowing beard
constricted and tied into three sections of silver hair as it went down, stopping now well before his
waist. He looked at them, his eyes behind half-moon spectacles bubbling with uncontainable
anger, his shoulders setting, and when Dumbledore stood up straight he was the warrior James had
heard tales of as a child, he who had defeated Grindelwald at Nurmengard, who no evil could
possibly stand against, power, strength, and light radiating from him in waves. "Tonight," said
Dumbledore, "we put an end to all this. For good."
Taureau Barkley opened his eyes, took in the near darkness of the room, and breathed in the much-
too-clean air of a hospital.
"And he rises."
He turned his head. On the bed next to his he could make out an ill looking man with a lined face.
The man smiled. "You've been out for two whole days, you know."
Taureau looked back up at the ceiling, said nothing.
"You were found in a burning building, I heard. With a dead body."

His stomach lurched. Emmett. He had held the dead body of the love of his life as the building
burned and fell around him.
"Apparently the man was dead before the fire, but they couldn't trace the cause of death."
Taureau paused. "What do you mean?" His voice was raspy, but he didn't much care. He'd never
really considered himself a conversationalist.
"I don't know," said the man. "That's just what I heard the nurses saying."
"Where are we?"
"A hospital, my friend, and a very good one at that."
"Saint Mungo's?"
"Saint what-now? This is Saint Bartholomew's hospital, my good man. Best around, if you ask
me."
"You're a Muggle, then?"
"A what?"
Taureau grimaced, getting the bearing of his situation. "Nevermind. Were my possessions saved
from the fire?"
"Possessions? Oh, you mean all that?" The man tilted his head towards a chair by Taureau's bed.
On it was his suit, torn in places and washed. Taureau was thankful for that.
"Yes. Anything else?" he asked.
"Yes, your sunglasses and, erm, your stick."
Taureau looked to his bedside table. His wand and Aviator sunglasses, their lenses cracked, lay
atop it. The nurses must have thought the wand was something precious to him. Obviously, they
were absolutely correct. Nodding to himself and grunting, Taureau sat up slowly.
"Hey, steady on, mate, you just woke up! It's past midnight, I think most of the staff have gone
home. You should have a button somewhere to summon a nurse, though."
Taureau ignored him. Throwing the blanket off his body, he manoeuvred his legs off the bed. Each
movement hurt, but he pushed past the pain, as it bore no striking resemblance to the suffering of
the heart. He stood on shaky feet. Took a breath, closed his eyes, waited for his balance to find
him.
"Oi, oi, where are you going?" the man demanded.
Taureau grabbed his wand, and picked his suit up off the chair. "First, I'm going to get changed."
And then, to avenge Emmett Fawley, Blithe was… no, Anton Windstrum, was going to die. "I must
be dressed for this occasion."
There was no sneaking, there was no stealth. The time for that had passed.
The ground splintered, cracked under the wand of Albus Dumbledore, and the underground
headquarters of the Death Eaters appeared below them, beneath the rubble.
A steady, indomitable stream of Aurors flooded down into the dirty corridor below, Dumbledore
amongst them, Alastor Moody amongst them, Harold Minchum, Bartemius Crouch, the full might
of the Ministry of Magic in short, and James joined the throng, entered the corridor and stayed
close to the biggest players. With them, he knew he would find Anton Windstrum. And when he
did…
The Death Eaters unlucky enough to be in the corridor looked around in surprise, were flung into
walls and bound, and the stream wasn't slowed in the slightest. The corridor split, and the throng
split with it. James followed Dumbledore and Moody. Around bends and corners they went,
disposing of any enemies in their warpath. Around one such corner, perhaps a dozen Death Eaters
had gathered, waiting. One of them was at the front, and he was huge. Almost as big as Hagrid.
Unmasked, his beefy face was the size of a beach ball, with a sinister, crooked-toothed smile that
reached up to beady eyes.
"This," said another one of the Death Eaters, "is Koshulynsky. He is an unstoppable force, and I
pity you. Koshulynksy, discipline them all, if you please."
The hulking man gave a happy nod and started moving forwards, and Moody barely flicked his
wand. Golden light flashed, Koshulynsky went tumbling into the Death Eaters, and after quickly
binding the lot of them, Moody, Dumbledore, and James pressed onwards. They progressed in
much the same fashion. James didn't lift his wand once. Why bother, with these two flanking him?
No, there was only person his torrent of emotions could be vented upon.
The corridor split again, and Moody went one way, Dumbledore the other. James stuck close to the
Headmaster, certain that he would be rewarded, certain that as they navigated through this
underground maze he would eventually have his target placed before him.
Dumbledore stopped suddenly. Turned to a door beside them, blasted it off its hinges, stepped
through. James followed him into a large stone room with archways along the walls leading off
into many other rooms and corridors, some of which James recognized from having passed
through them.
In the center of the room, scanning the rooms and corridors beyond each of the archways carefully,
was Anton Windstrum.
He turned at the opening of the door, froze for a moment when he saw them, before slowly
reaching toward his back pocket.
"Don't move," said Dumbledore quietly.
Anton's arm stopped exactly where it was. "Hello, Headmaster." He looked at James and nodded.
"Potter."
Looking at him, at the face of his teacher, James felt something, the overpowering urge to make
this man feel and understand the depth of pain he had inflicted. James raised his wand finally,
slowly.
"You've heard then, I assume," said Anton. "It was Dedalus, wasn't it?" He sighed and shook his
head wistfully. "I knew I should have killed him."
"What happened to you, Anton?" said Dumbledore. "This… this is not you. It has never been."
Anton pondered the question, then looked at James. "Do you remember, more than a month ago,
the story I told you in my office, James?"
James provided no visual cue, so Anton continued after a few seconds.
"It was a story from my time spent travelling the world. For you're right, Dumbledore. Before I saw
the world, I was not like this at all. This world, the Muggles," he snarled, "made me like this. I
visited a Muggle village with some friends - the village was being terrorized by a chimera."
James remembered the story. Still didn't move.
"My friends and I slayed the beast, and as thanks, the Muggles captured and tortured us. They were
afraid of us, you see. I understand that. We were the unknown to them, and nothing is more
frightening to a human being. As much as I understand that, it does not change my memories of the
horrors I suffered at their hands. They are vile people."
"You know better than to think that, Anton," said Dumbledore.
"No, you must think, Professor. Really think! Why are we, the all powerful, why are we the ones
who must scurry about in the dark? The Muggles are weak, and dull, yet they are permitted to
effectively rule this world. Why?"
"The alternative would be to rule over them."
"And is that not better? Voldemort is a lunatic, believe me, I hold no illusions on that matter. I have
no wish to kill all the Muggles. I wish to save them. Look at this world, Dumbledore. I've travelled
it extensively. Have you seen what they've done to the environment? To the planet? They've ruined
it! And they don't even realize this, or perhaps they simply don't care. It may be decades before
they see the error in their ways, by which point it will be much too late. I've visited Japan,
Dumbledore. Do you know what the Muggles did there? Have you heard of their nuclear bombs?"
"I have," Dumbledore murmured.
"Vapourized. We don't even have a spell for what they did. The horrors they unleash upon each
other, it's unthinkable. They need us to take over, Dumbledore. For the greater good!"
There was a look on Dumbledore's face that spoke a great many words.
"Undo the jinx now," Anton said softly. "The anti-disapparition jinx you've cast. Undo it, and let
me leave this place."
"You are wrong, Anton," Dumbledore said, his voice low but powerful. "But I have not the time
nor the compassion at present to show you the error of your ways. For the murders of Fleamont and
Euphemia Potter, Sawyer Hughes, Caradoc Dearborn, Emmett Fawley, and Eugenia Jenkins, you
will spend the rest of your life in a prison cell."
"I only killed two of those people personally," said Anton, wrinkling his nose.
"At only twenty three years of age, to have fallen so far from the esteem I once held you in," said
Dumbledore, "it saddens me greatly. But you will have no mercy from me."
"It doesn't matter what cell you throw me in," said Anton. "When the war is over, I will only be
broken out. And I've already done more than enough to see to it the war will end, and it will end in
our favor."
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Do not think I have forgotten. You have the Muggle Prime Minister
under the Imperius curse."
Anton nodded. "I suppose you're going to put a stop to that now. It matters not whether or not we
control the Muggle Minister. We have plenty of other plans to seize the country."
"And we will stop all of those plans in due time," said Dumbledore. "For now…" He flicked his
wand, and Anton's wand flew from his back pocket into Dumbledore's hand. The old man held it
between his fingers for a few seconds, before using both hands to snap it in half. "That should do
the trick, I think."
"Well, that was childish," Anton muttered. "Could have just used a counter-curse."
"You have no need of a wand anymore, Anton."
"I suppose," said Anton with a sigh. "Come on, then. I want to see this cell you speak of so highly."
He started walking towards them, and a movement from behind him drew James' eye. From one of
the archways, one of the last two Ukranians, Maksym, sprinted towards Anton, eyes blazing, wand
raised.
Anton turned in slow motion, wide eyed, and paused when a jet of green light hit Maksym from
behind. Maksum tumbled and slid on the ground, dead. Another person stepped through the
archway.
"Who now?" said Anton exasperatedly.
Taureau Barkley, with his Aviator sunglasses, the lenses of which were cracked, and wearing a
torn and rumpled three-piece salmon pink suit, entered the room, walking slowly, as though every
step had specific intention behind it.
"Oh," said Anton.
"For killing the love of my life," said Taureau, his voice raspy, "you will die now."
Dumbledore raised his own wand, pointed it at the newcomer. "He is to face the law, Mr Barkley.
I assure you there are some who would say his fate is worse than death."
But Taureau shook his head. "There is one person and one person only who will deal justice to this
man."
At that, James shifted his wand, pointed it straight at Taureau too. "And you think it's you?"
"This man," said Taureau, "hired me because of my relationship with Emmett Fawley. He knew
this would lead you all to believe Emmett to be Blithe - he used me to turn Emmett into his
scapegoat! And though I knew all along that Blithe was Anton Windstrum, by telling this to
Emmett, I doomed him to be killed by Blithe. I, and I alone, may take vengeance upon him."
"There's plenty of me to go around," said Anton with the ghost of a smirk. "Just form an orderly
line, I reckon."
Taureau's patience snapped and his wand flicked and an orb light shot through the air, pulsating,
and Anton's eyes widened. Dumbledore had just enough time to stand in front of James and wave
his wand and a blinding flash of light filled the room. James' ears popped, waves of air brushed
past his face, and after a few seconds the light faded.
Anton Windstrum was nowhere to be seen.
Taureau Barkley looked around the room blankly, his fury being retracted and resorbed into
himself until he could look coolly at Dumbledore and James.
"Go in peace," said Dumbledore softly.
Taureau turned, and left the room the way he'd come.
There were many arrests made that night. Yet, although the underground complex was cleared
completely, and there had not been a single casualty suffered, and by all means it was a thorough
and decisive victory against the Death Eaters, all those present were encumbered by the bitter taste
of failure in the air, impossible to shake.
Together
It is when we are at our lowest point that we are open to the greatest change.
Days had passed since the burial of Lily's parents.
Grief had countless little rabbit-holes for one to crawl through, and reach the end, only to acquire
some new method of wallowing in their crushing loss. And Lily had crawled, and crawled, and
crawled.
Then she curled up into a ball one night, face resting on a drenched pillowcase, allowed herself to
fill up with every single reason to stay this way forever, covered in blankets that none of the
atrocities could breach, and when she was done, she uncurled, and stood.
That was her first step. Every act of overcoming required it, and it would always, always be the
most difficult. But difficult was something Lily was used to facing head on and rising above.
Difficult had been every day since that first Hogwarts letter.
She watched from her window as the sun rose on the last day of Easter break, and closed her eyes
against its rays. She was smiling. Lily was used to smiling in the presence of others. She'd always
had to, whether the reaction was genuine or not. It had been rare that a smile was just for herself,
but now she found the deed much easier.
She was a mudblood, quite true. Most of her world hated her, while the rest would die because of
her. Severus was gone, and her parents much more so.
But it was time for Lily to smile.
Breakfast came and Vernon Dursley's bacon would skitter about on his plate every time he would
try to stab it with his fork. It was almost like it had a life of its own. It essentially did, of course.
Lily's wand waved under the table, and the bacon jumped to the side again, and Vernon's
expression grew in its dumbfoundedness. Again he stabbed, again the bacon flopped away, and the
fork clanged against the plate uselessly.
"I say," he muttered.
Lily put a hand over her mouth, fighting back the urge to giggle.
A prank, juvenile and childish. Like this, it was as though James Potter were right beside her,
making sure her head was held high and her lips curved upwards.
For she had James Potter. She had Marlene, and Alice, and Frank. With James, whether she liked it
or not, came Sirius Black. Remus, and Peter, too. She seldom indulged in braggadocio, but she was
quite popular among many of the students. She knew this. Top of her year, and surrounded by
friends.
"Petunia, darling, come look at this, would you?"
Her sister walked over to the table, eyebrows raised.
Vernon looked at his plate, then stabbed the bacon cleanly, in one motion. He paused. Stared at the
bacon, lifted it with his fork, took a hesitant bite of it. Then he looked at Petunia with something
akin to amazement on his red face.
"Well done, dear," she said, patting his shoulder and walking back to the kitchen.
Lily again had to hold back a snigger.
She had let things get bad. Very bad. She could see that now, having emerged on the other side of
it all. It was time for her to indulge in her own self far more than she ever had before. Chasing her
own happiness must be just as important as that of those around her.
Brightness for once was on the horizon, and she was already happy at the prospect.
Be that as it may, she felt an impatient pang in her chest, completely independent of the past week's
developments. Lily could now freely admit that there was another half to her soul, and she would
be able to see him again very soon.
Two boys stood by the graves of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. As the sun rose, they stood still
and silent. As it began to set, they turned, and walked away.
When they arrived back at Potter Manor, Sirius put a hand on James' shoulder. "If you need me for
anything…"
"I'll manage by myself," said James. His lip twitched in the makings of a smile that didn't have the
strength to form.
"Well, you know where to find me."
Sirius headed off for his room, and James moved on. There were many studies throughout the
enormous house that his father had used. The biggest, and James' favourite, was where he had to
be. The room had clear floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the grounds of the Manor. The
garden was bathed beautifully in the red melancholia of afternoon sun.
Assembled in the room already were a handful of witches and wizards with many rolls of
parchment, waiting for him.
"Let's get on with it," James said quietly, closing the door behind him.
The witches and wizards burst into chatter, pressing James with noises and words. He was now the
proprietor of the entire estate, as well as a number of other smaller residences in the Potter name
around the world; three vaults in Gringotts, and all their contents and term deposits, belonged to
him; he owned every House-elf in the Manor, and a few House-elves loaned out to some middle
class families. There were many payments going out to a variety of accounts for a variety of
reasons, all out of generosity. The Potters had owed no one.
"Keep the donations to the Auror Department going," James said. "My father cared deeply about
the department. He spent so long making it what it is today."
He walked behind the desk, stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looked out across the grounds
with his back facing the others.
The hedges, the sculptures, the elves… it was all his. A sense of inescapable duty came over
James. Responsibility, and an obligation to accept and manifest some dependable authority.
For how much longer could he be who he'd always been? The prankster, the jokester. The
marauder. He was struck by overwhelming déjà vu. When he had learned that his father was
terminally ill, all those months ago, he had faced much the same dilemma.
"Padfoot?"
"Mhmm?"
"We need to do better. Be better."
Of course he had changed over the course of the past year, he knew that well enough, but was that
sufficient? The last Potter, heir to his father's legacy, and his mother's philanthropic and
humanitarian endeavours.
He thought he'd have more time to continue changing, and growing. He could never have guessed
how suddenly the necessity to change would be thrust upon him. His only consolation in that
regard was that his father's death hadn't been dragged out over the years like they had all expected.
As violent and awful as it had been, his father had been in pain for only seconds.
Behind him, the others were still talking. He didn't register their words.
Had his changes been sufficient? Had he grown enough as a person to take on all the duty that now
lay before him? He couldn't answer the question. These strangers certainly couldn't. He doubted
even Sirius would be able to.
There was one person, above all others, whose council he sought. More than that, that one person's
very presence would help lift the immense burden dropped onto his shoulders. There was a void in
his life, a tangible, caustic void, when she wasn't there. But the Easter break was almost over. He
wouldn't have to wait much longer.
The busy Muggle street throbbed with the pulse of every day life. On a bench, independent of the
constant flow of bodies, sat Harold Minchum. He wore a blue dress robe, and a black hat. A few
glances would be cast his way from the passers-by, but only fleeting, before they moved on to their
safe and blissfuly ignorant lives.
Harold became aware of someone sitting beside him in the very same instant that it happened.
"Good evening, Minister."
He looked quickly, and then tipped his hat to Albus Dumbledore, who wore a rippling purple dress
robe in his usual magnificient style. "Evening, Dumbledore. I didn't get a chance to talk to you at
the Cremley family's funeral."
Dumbledore hummed. "I expect we'll have an abundance of similar opportunities, my friend. The
week is only beginning."
"Caradoc and Sawyer's services were both lively affairs. I'm sure that's what they would have
wanted," said Harold.
"I am sure."
Harold let out a breath. "It seems we have a new funeral every day."
"Such is war, dear Minister."
"Minister," said Harold quietly. "I could never have forseen my appointment a mere week ago."
"Much has happened. Has the magnitude of your role sunk in yet?"
"Not quite. Although I have been doing some thinking." He looked at the old man with a grimace.
"Have you realized the full extent to which Anton Windstrum played us yet?"
"It dawns on me a little more each day. To what in particular do you refer?"
"He wanted to be the Minister. Not me, not Sawyer. Not Fawley, or Bulstrode, or Eugenia. Him."
Dumbledore looked at him with a frown. "Anton Windstrum wanted nothing to do with the
Ministry of Magic."
"That's what he told us, yes. All the while, he convinced us that Blithe was in the Ministry. No, he
wanted the job. He just played the long game. I've realized how perfectly he'd positioned himself.
Don't you remember, we essentially made him third in line to the throne? Sawyer was our first
choice for the job, and then myself. After me, most reluctantly, Anton accepted being the back up
to the back up."
"And then," said Dumbledore slowly, "he orchestrated a raid in which Caradoc and the rest of you
would infiltrate the Death Eater headquarters, and walk into a trap. You were supposed to be
slaughtered with Caradoc and Sawyer."
"And no one was supposed to realize he'd double crossed us," Harold finished. "He would have
been made the Minister in a heartbeat."
After a few seconds, Dumbledore looked up at the evening sky. It was getting dark. "He played a
masterful game."
"And we payed dearly for it," said Harold heavily. "The loss of the Potters was especially
disheartening. Fleamont had just retired."
"It-" Dumbledore's voice caught, the first time Harold had ever heard it do so. "It was most
unfortunate."
"The boy, their son, how is he doing?"
Dumbledore tilted his head, and his eyes disappeared behind the white sheen of his half-moon
spectacles. "As well as can be expected of him. He is strong."
"Fleamont was a good friend of mine. I don't know the boy myself, though if he's anything like his
father then I'm sure he'll be okay."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Oh, he will. I have no doubt of that. Together, we all will."
Life Goes On
The news that James Potter's parents had passed away, along with some Ministry folk, raced
through Hogwarts as soon as term resumed. The stories on how they had died varied, with the
majority drawing back to there being a newly appointed Minister of Magic at long last. After that,
however, the stories went awry, and strayed far from the truth.
Severus knew exactly what had happened to the Potters. It had been described to him in explicit
detail by the very perpetrator. Anton Windstrum, Severus' Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,
had really been a Death Eater. The thought amused Severus to no end.
But Severus didn't care about the death of the Potters, not even in the slightest.
News had travelled to Spinner's End, before the end of the break, that Mr and Mrs Evans had been
mugged, killed in the street.
It had been shocking, and devastating for Severus to hear. He had been so tempted to make that
short trip to Lily's house, to see her, comfort her. But he knew that she wouldn't want him to, as
much as it pained him to admit. So he had kept his distance.
He wasn't sure what he'd do when he saw her at school. Poor, poor, beautiful girl. He knew she
would be a mess, and longed to help her, for she would certainly need his help. But she wouldn't
want it, so he could not give it.
How cruel was the world to stop him from helping her when she would surely need him dearly?
"Oh, that's good." Lily cleaned the meat off a bone, and picked up the next one. " So good."
Alice looked at her amusedly. "Glad to see you've got your appetite back."
"Being an orphan makes me quite hungry, I've found." She ripped meat off with her teeth. "'Tuney
disagrees, but what does she know?"
"Well," said Alice, smiling warmly, "I'm quite glad that you and your sister have finally made up."
Alice and Marlene had visited Lily over break, when she was still at the bottom of an immensely
deep hole of sorrow, and she could tell they'd been incredibly relieved to see her this morning so
buoyant.
"I'm not sure if 'made up' is entirely accurate," said Lily, "but she doesn't seem to hate me
anymore, which I could not be happier about."
"And if you're happy, then that's all that-" Alice frowned. "Where's Marlene?"
Lily moved on to the next bone. "Take a guess."
"With Black? Already?"
"Mhm."
"Merlin." Alice sighed, then asked Lily quietly, "Do you think she'll call off her engagement? To
the rich bloke?"
"William?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know," said Lily, pausing her feast. The rest of the Great Hall was fairly empty by now, as
lunch had started well over an hour ago. She grimaced. "I really hope she does. We can only keep
encouraging her, I guess."
Alice nodded. "She should not marry someone just because her parents tell her to."
Lily shrugged. "I won't pretend to understand Pureblood culture. You'd know better than I whether
or not Marlene sees that as an option."
"Yeah." Alice looked sad. "I don't think she does."
They ate quietly for a little while. Eventually, Lily finished her meal and held out her hands. Alice
waved her wand, and all the grease and little bits of food vanished, leaving Lily's hands spotless, as
though taken from under a tap.
"Alright," said Lily, clapping, "now I need to find Potter."
Alice nodded sadly. "You've heard the news?"
"I have. I don't know what on earth the odds are that this could happen to the both of us within the
same week, but I need to see him. As soon as humanly possible."
"He might not even be here. He wasn't on the train."
"Neither was Black," said Lily, "but that one's already managed to make himself quite busy. No,
the two of them must have Floo'd here. He'll be around." Lily stood and started walking.
"Happy hunting," Alice called after her.
Lily tapped two fingers to her temple in salute.
Sirius and Marlene looked up at the ceiling. They lay, side by side, on the floor of one of the
castle's many secret passageways, one that Sirius knew only someone privy to the secrets of the
Marauder's Map could find.
Their hands were intertwined.
"How are you, really?" Marlene asked. "I know you viewed them as your own parents."
"I'm… coping."
She turned her head to him, cheek touching the hardwood floor. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She leaned forward and kissed his nose. "Good."
"You know, I only ever saw Mr Potter cry once." The ceiling was blank, but Sirius looked up at it
like a canvas. "It was the night I ran away. My dad had slashed me up. Cuts all over. Then he got
tired of flicking his wrist, so he curled his fingers and made do with his knuckles."
"Fucking bastard…" Marlene's voice was soft, filled with venom and a struggle to comprehend the
horror.
"My worthless House-elf, Kreacher, had cleaned my room and found pictures, taken in Fourth
Year, of me with a Muggle girl. A nice girl. Catherine. Not a girlfriend by any means, but a decent
snog."
Marlene snorted, and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.
"The beating came soon after. It's funny. James told me, a few weeks into our First Year, after I
described to him what it was like at my home, he told me to pack a bag. Pack a bag, and at
Christmas break you're moving into mine. I knew he meant it. It meant the world. And though I
didn't take him up on it then, my bag had been packed since that day. In my room, under my bed.
So when my old man was finished imparting his lesson of blood and bruises onto me, I grabbed
that bag, and the next thing I knew I was on the doorstep to Potter Manor."
"That must have been so hard to do."
"It…"
Come with me! Regulus, come with me!
I- I don't-
Reg!
"It was hard, yeah. I wish I could say otherwise, but it wasn't an easy decision to make."
"It was the right one, though."
Sirius smiled. "Yeah." His thoughts swirled upon the surface of the ceiling. "So Mr Potter cried
that night. I had expected fury, expected him to break down my family's front door and bring his
wrath down upon them. Instead, when he opened his own front door, and looked at my bruises and
cuts, he snatched me up and held me in his arms the way Orion Black never had. Rubbed my back
and cried with me. For me. My father had told me men never cry, never show weakness. We are
not sentimental or tender. Everything I know about what it means to be a man, I learned from
Fleamont Potter."
"He was a great man," said Marlene, her voice soft.
"Yeah. And the next day was when I glimpsed the fury. After they'd settled me in, gave me a
room, made sure I was okay, Mr and Mrs Potter led a team of Aurors into Grimmauld Place. Mrs
Potter wasn't even an Auror." He let out a bark of laughter. "But I heard she was fierce. Slapped my
mum clean across the face. My father was arrested. Beaten by Mr Potter in a duel that, according to
the stories, lasted a matter of seconds. Mr Potter dug up a variety of charges against him, that had
been stacked up over the years, as child abuse alone would barely have gotten the man a slap on
the wrist. Not a Black, at any rate. My dad wasn't sentenced to many years, but we all suspect he'll
die in Azkaban."
"He deserves to," she said quietly.
"Yeah." Sirius grimaced. "He deserves a lot of things."
"You deserved better. To be born into a family who loved and valued you. You deserved a happy
home to grow up in, and I wish so much that you could have had it."
"I got it, in the end," he said, smiling. "Not for long, but it was precious, and I'm grateful for it."
After some seconds, he turned his head sideways, looked her dead in the eye. "And what about
what you deserve from your parents?"
"Sirius…"
"Respect, and the freedom to be with whomever you choose."
"Let's not do this now. I don't want to fight."
"I want to be with you Marlene. I really, really care about you."
"And I really care about you-"
"But you're engaged," he said bluntly. "And only you have the power to change that."
"I don't have the power to change it!" He'd upset her, he could hear it and see it on her face. She
turned so she was facing him completely. "I've told you a million times! There's nothing that I can
do, and you have to accept that!"
"Marlene-"
"End of discussion." She rolled back, faced the ceiling again. Then, in a softer voice, "Drop it,
Sirius. At least for now. Alright?"
He took a breath, tried to roll all his frustration into that ball of air, and let it out. "Okay."
Lo and behold, Lily found James in the library of all places. His head was down, his quill working
furiously. He only looked up when she sat across from him, and his eyes widened.
"Evans..." He dropped his quill. "I heard about your parents. I'm so, so-"
"And I've heard," she said, louder, "it's something that we have in common."
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "It seems fate has a sense of humor, to have us
orphaned together."
She nodded, lips lifting. "We really get to share the experience, don't we?"
"We do." They held each other's gazes. James' eyes were soft. "How are you finding it?"
"Devastating. Crushing. You?"
"About the same, really. But life goes on."
Lily looked at the textbooks and parchment before him. "So it does. I see you're making yourself
busy?"
"Quite."
"It's most unlike you. James Potter, willingly abiding in the library? It certainly must be the end of
days."
"These days, Evans, I've been thinking the more unlike me something is, the better."
That caught Lily off guard. "What do you mean?"
"With the utmost reluctance, I've decided to grow up, Evans. It's what my parents would expect of
me."
"Grow up?"
"We're almost in our seventh year, and it's time I started acting like it. I need to take my studies
seriously, spend my money wisely. My future, and the legacy of my family, now sits squarely upon
my shoulders."
His expression was sombre, as though his mind was made up about something incredibly complex.
Lily snorted. "Potter, you're an idiot."
"What?"
"You already have changed. Plenty."
"It's not enough-"
"It's more than enough. You're kind and brave. Funny and caring. You now take your studies
seriously, and you've started tutoring the younger students for goodness sake! You've matured, and
people have noticed it. They've started looking up to you, and not just as someone they think is
cool, but as a leader. You're quite possibly the most popular boy in the school-"
"Quite obviously, rather," he mumbled.
"And apart from some residual arrogance," she gave him a look, "I find myself struggling these
days to criticize you in even the slightest way."
James rested his chin on his palm and looked at her intently. "I've decided to stop pranking, and to
make a conscious effort to break less rules."
Lily shrugged. "You've barely done any pranks at all this year to begin with. And if you want to
break less rules, I'm the last person who's going to complain. I like those ideas. That aside, you
need to go easier on yourself, Potter. Accept that you're good enough as you are. A year ago?
Perhaps not. But right now, there's not a thing about you that I would change."
He was smiling now. He lifted his chin from his palm and closed his textbooks, rolled up his
parchment, stuffed it all in his bag. "Come on, Evans. Let's get out of here."
She grinned. "You're convinced?"
"Yeah, you've sold me. If I am to keep being myself, we have to leave the library at once. This
place makes me nauseous."
"What do you have in mind, then?" She fell in beside him as they walked from the library.
"Not sure. I'll leave it up to you."
Though she found his resolution to improve himself laughable, for she could think of very few
ways now to improve upon the messy haired boy walking next to her, Lily was also reminded that
she'd made resolutions of her own over the past week. "Potter?"
"Yes?"
She bit her lip. "Let's break some school rules."
He raised his eyebrows. "Evans, have you listened to a word I've said?"
"Of course. But I think getting up to some mischief will be good for you. And I've been thinking,
lately, of exploring my as yet untouched mischievous side. Because I never have, really. It will be
good for me. We both win."
"Evans," James said, frowning but looking amused all the same, "I get the feeling that you're going
to be a bad influence on me."
She nudged him. "Oh, what is the world coming to?"
A few other students walked through the corridor. One in particular, walking in their direction, was
awfully familiar to Lily. With his greasy black hair, sallow skin, and hooked nose, Lily realized it
had been quite some time since she'd last met eyes with Severus Snape. As he approached, she
looked at him intently, holding his eyes with force. But he looked back at her with cold aloofness,
then looked away as simply as though she were a passing cloud, before he passed the two of them
and was gone.
Lily and James walked on in silence for a few moments, before James spoke up. "I think he's
looking quite handsome, if I'm being honest."
Lily snorted, and a thin layer of unease and sadness, forming within seconds inside her, shattered
and cascaded down. She smiled and shoved him. "Shut it, Potter."
"I'm only saying, Evans, I might have misjudged him. That pasty skin really brings out his eyes."
Lily shook her head. James had been right in saying there were parts of him that hadn't fully
changed yet, but she reckoned she quite liked those parts. She could recognize them now as the
parts that had drawn her to him when he was still an arrogant little sod in the first place.
"And the hook of his nose, Evans, it's so charmingly curved I might hang my coat on it!"
They were the parts that made her laugh.
"Not to mention his hair. Oh, his hair! He-"
"Alright, Potter," said Lily, forcing herself to be at least somewhat stern. "Insults disguised as
compliments are still mean."
"I was wondering how much you'd let me get away with," he said, grinning at her.
"As entertaining as your sarcastic wiles are, one does get bored of them quite quickly."
"Bored?" He looked scandalized. "Are you sure you don't mean enamoured?"
"Quite sure, yes."
"Well, I don't believe that." He then paused for a moment as they climbed the stairs to the third
floor, before looking at her inquisitively. "So what's brought this on from you?"
"What?"
"Exploring your 'as yet untouched mischievous side'. What on earth could motivate you to do
something as well belated and common-sensical as that?"
"Common-sensical?"
"Yes, Evans, to invoke common sense."
She raised an eyebrow. "Right. Well, I've made it part of my grieving process. I'm going to take
every excuse to chase my own happiness, whatever that might entail."
"Sounds exciting."
"Oh," she bit her lip, "I'm excited. Where are we going, anyway?"
"Right on cue," said James.
He stopped walking abruptly. They were halfway down a corridor, and Lily looked both ways,
utterly bemused.
"On cue for what?"
"Hush, Evans," he said softly. He was looking at a statue with a weird glint in his eye. "You're
about to learn something that very, very few students who've ever roamed these corridors ever
did."
"And what's that?"
He looked at her. "Enforcing the rules. Bringing order. Making sense out of madness. In short, the
jobs of the Prefects and teachers. All of it is obsolete."
"Erm..."
"Hogwarts is a place of chaos. Mischief, mayhem, madness - they might as well be the school
motto! This castle is alive, Evans. It wants us to break the rules, craves it even."
"Potter, I have very little clue what you're talking about."
He tapped his wand to the statue. It was a one-eyed witch, hump-backed and hunched over,
grotesque to look at. "Dissendium."
With a creak, the hump slid open, revealing a short slide descending into darkness. Lily stared,
wordless.
"Leads to Hogsmeade. One of the fastest ways to get there. But this isn't what I meant in saying
this is something very few students will ever learn. It's the fact that Hogwarts is a place in which
the rules were made just to be broken. That is one thing, if nothing else, that I've learned at this
school. In fact-"
He stepped up to the statue, got his legs down the slide, and plummeted into the depths. Lily didn't
hear the rest of his sentence. She gasped, looked left and right again down the empty corridor,
completely taken aback. She stepped up to the statue, peered down.
"Potter?"
Her voice echoed the slightest bit, but she could make out no other sound. She shook her head and
stepped back. Then she gritted her teeth and stepped forward again. Slowly getting her legs down
the shute, she sat there for a moment, looking around the corridor. With a trembling heart, she
realized that this was her life now.
She let go.
Air hurtled past her face, and the darkness became a tangible force pressing against her until
suddenly there was nothing and then there was light, and the breath left her lungs as a pair of arms
received her and pressed her tight into the chest of James Potter before she could register reaching
the end of the slide.
"In fact," he continued, his wand held up and shining with blinding light, "Hogwarts is a place
where we should learn to break the rules." He looked down at her, their faces closer than they'd
been in weeks. "Magic is inherently chaotic. Learning it in a controlled environment is ludicrous. It
thrives in the murky depths of madness. I've broken the rules over the years in such a dedicated
fashion because to me, that's what being here is all about. Prefects and rules are an outside
observer's attempt to reign in this castle's desire to procure and cultivate brilliance."
He pulled away then, and, still holding his wand aloft, linked arms with her and began to walk.
Around them were the dusty walls of a tunnel, and she was glad he'd linked their arms, as she
wasn't a great fan of the idea of being lost or trapped down here.
Their shoulders brushed as they walked, and James continued talking. She looked at him from time
to time, enjoying the passion he displayed.
"It's something that very few people will discover. The moving staircases don't play tricks on us
just for laughs. The will of this castle aligns with the will of those within it. I genuinely believe
that. Have you ever been to the Forbidden Forest, Evans?"
"Not without teacher supervision," she said.
"Because it's forbidden, right?"
"Well, and it's dangerous."
"It's not-"
"I've heard there are all manner of dangerous creatures. Banshees, werewolves. Not exactly
alluring for me."
James hesitated. "Okay, you definitely shouldn't go anywhere near the forest. But my point is, it's
there for a reason. It serves a purpose, just like every other little detail all over these grounds."
"Sure."
"And it saddens me when attempts are made to snuff out the will of this castle. Now Dumbledore,
he gets it. If anyone understands this castle, and what it wants, he does."
Lily raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Of course. He's the head authority figure, sure, but he understands how important it is to let
Hogwarts be Hogwarts. Let the will of the castle be carried out. It took Sirius, Remus, Peter, and I
years upon years to discover all of Hogwarts' little secrets, and I still suspect we've missed a few.
Not many, mind. But perhaps one, maybe even two. And that thought exhilerates me. The saddest
thing in the world would be for every secret of Hogwarts to be laid bare." The tunnel twisted and
turned, rose and fell, and the two maintained a consisent pace as they walked. "But what
we do know took us an immense amount of time and hard work to discover. And Dumbledore
knows all about it."
"All about what?"
"Our efforts to learn it all."
She frowned. "What?"
"Back in second year, when Sirius and I discovererd that Remus is… Remus is an interovert, we-"
"Took you a while."
"Yes." He cleared his throat. "It took us a year, but once we realized he was introverted, all four of
us suddenly became somthing akin to brothers. It's a long story-"
"I'd love to hear it."
"Too long. But once we all came together, we set about traipsing around the castle, learning as
much as we could. And as you'd expect, we ran into Dumbledore a fair few times. At least in the
earlier years."
"He knows about your Invisibility Cloak?"
James frowned. "How do you know about that?"
"You showed me at Christmas."
"Hm." He looked annoyed with himself.
"Wish you'd held onto the secret?"
"Well, yeah. Much less fun when someone knows. Particularly a Prefect."
"I'll try to forget it."
"Please. Now, when we ran into Dumbledore, rather than punish us for breaking the rules, he
actually sat us down and educated us!" She looked at him, and he was grinning. "Everything I've
come to understand about Hogwarts is from Dumbledore. He really, truly understands it. He even
showed us some techniques we could employ to increase our chances of stumbling upon
passageways like this very tunnel. It's all about understanding the castle, and it's art, Evans. It's
beautiful art."
She looked at him carefully. "If you feel so strongly about this, then why stop? Why do you want
to start obeying the rules and act responsibly?"
James hesitated. "Because I think I've had my fill. Maybe it really is just because my parents died,
but I think there's also a duality to the way Hogwarts throws chaos at us. It's designed to improve
us, make us better witches and wizards. And, in time, it will make us grow."
She stared at him, once again at a loss of words for the ways in which James Potter's brain worked.
"And far too few people will ever understand that."
Eventually, they emerged from the tunnel into the cellar of Honeydukes. Lily had been alarmed to
realize that they were essentially breaking into the sweet shop, but James hushed her quickly, and
they kept low and quiet as they snuck out of the shop and onto the quiet Hogsmeade street.
"Fancy a butterbeer?" James asked, as they walked aimlessly down the cobbled street.
Lily smiled at him. Their arms were still entwined. "Sure."
The Three Broomsticks was near emtpy, and no one spared James and Lily any second glances.
They were still in their Muggle clothes, after all. The two found an empty table near the back, and
when James returned from the counter with two full glasses of butterbeer the teens clinked them
together and knocked them back.
Lily kept an eye on James as she drank. These past few weeks hadn't been easy, and she had every
reason to believe the weeks ahead would remain relatively dark. But it was nice to have a light,
irremoveable and decidedly irreplaceable, that she knew would be by her side every step of the
way.
She smiled against the glass on her lips.
With the Snitch caught and the Quidditch Cup presented, James flew down to the stands and found
Sirius first.
"Nicely done, Prongs," said Sirius, thumping him on the back. "What was your personal haul,
ninety points?"
"Just about. I missed a few easy ones, but we did alright I think."
"Another Quidditch Cup under your belt is more than alright, I reckon." Sirius paused as a third
year stopped to congratulate James, then grimaced. "Just one more, and then we're done."
James nodded, looked out towards the Quidditch pitch. The grass, the hoops. The stands, and sky.
"This is the second to last Quidditch Cup I'll ever compete for. We're getting old, Padfoot."
"That we are."
"And things are changing at a startling pace."
"Such is the way of things. Regardless of whether or not we're ready, or whether or not we want it
to, life will, as resolutely and unforgivingly as always, move on."
James clapped his best friend on the back, and together they looked at the sky. He knew they were
thinking of the same thing. The same two people. "Life goes on."
Blinding, searing, bubbling agony. "Get away," Remus screamed.
"Hold his arms," James muttered.
Sirius grabbed Remus' arms, held them tight, while Peter held his legs.
"You don't understand! It's coming!"
"It's okay, Remus," said James, holding a damp cloth to his forehead. "It's going to be alright."
"It's going to kill you!"
"You say that every month, and every month we-"

"Argh!" Remus slumped back, felt his eyes roll back into his head. He couldn't see anymore. Felt
the wall against his head. The Shrieking Shack's walls were thin, the paper peeling in places from
claw marks, dented all over. He tried to speak, tried to warn them, but couldn't find his voice.
There was a monster inside him, and it was coming.
He heard James sigh, and fall back. "I hate seeing him like this."
"Yeah." That was Sirius. "This is my least favorite part, every month. Seeing Remus' composure,
his rationality completely drained from him, it's…"
"It's awful," said Peter.
They didn't understand. It was coming.
"At least he doesn't have to do it alone anymore," said James quietly.
Sirius hummed. Then, "Oi, Prongs, what's going on with you and Evans? Are you not together?"
"We've reached an understanding, I think. Neither of us really know where we're at, but it's nice.
At least for now."
"That actually sounds alright. With McKinnon, I don't know how much longer I can-"
Remus screamed, roared, felt his voice crackle and split, higher and higher until he was howling,
howling at the roof, the sky, howling at the moon as his skin split and tore, agony engulfing him
and-
"Here it is, boys," said James. "Get ready."
-the sprouting of claws, fangs, hairs, his jaw popping and dislocating and relocating, his joints
grinding against each other, bones churching, growing, his gums splitting and gushing blood that
tasted so sweet on his tongue, and he howled and he howled and he-
The sunlight streaming into the Common Room through the window fell onto the side of Lily's
face, warming her up as she read her book. Opposite her, Frank and Alice cuddled on a chair. Some
of their friends found the two nauseauting, but Lily could never help herself from finding them
sweet together.
"Have you heard from Petunia recently?" asked Alice.
Lily nodded. "We've decided to go ahead and sell the house. Neither of us would feel quite right
living there. Not without Mum and Dad. It's best that we sell it."
"That can't have been an easy decision to make," said Frank.
"It wasn't. But I'm glad we got there."
"And I'm glad your relationship is in a position where the two of you can make any decisions
together at all," said Alice.
Lily smiled at her. "Me too."
She went back to her book then, and Frank and Alice returned their attention to each other. They
whispered, and Alice giggled, her hand on his chest. Try as she might to be annoyed, Lily could
only be happy for the two. To find someone, care so deeply for them, and have that feeling
returned, could only be something to be celebrated.
She looked out the window, toward the sun that seemed to twinkle a little bit extra, just for her. Of
course she had that someone. But, at least just then, she wasn't in any sort of rush.
Marlene put a hand to Sirius' cheek, her eyes narrowed. "Where did you get these cuts?"
"The Forbidden Forest," he answered truthfully.
"How?"
"Frolicking."
"Does it have anything to do with why James was in the Hospital Wing this morning?"
"Was he? I didn't know."
"Mhm."
"He seemed perfectly healthy to me."
"Okay, Black. Be mysterious."
They were in a broom cupboard, but simply sat against the wall and held hands. Of late, there had
been much less sex and much more talking, and as unbelievable as he might once have thought it,
Sirius found that he didn't mind at all.
"So what happens to Potter Manor?" she asked.
"James owns it. Bizarre to think about, but I can see him being a very good master of the house."
"And you?"
"I talked about it with him. I'll want to move out at some point in the future, though I'm not sure
when. I might have to take up a job, as my folks obviously don't send me any money. James is
vehemently against the idea. I think in his mind we were going to live together until we were old
men fighting with our walking sticks."
"I think that's incredibly sweet."
"It's incredibly James."
"So where do you think you'll work?"
"No clue. Honestly, I might not even have to. Did I tell you about my Uncle Alphard?"
"The cool one, who the rest of your family hates?"
"The very same. He's the only adult in my family I have a positive relationship with, and I'd always
suspected that I'm one of the only family members that he gets on with too. I got a letter from him
the other day. He reckons he's dying."
"Oh, that's awful, Sirius."
"Nah, he's been threatening to die for the past ten years. This time I think it's real, but I've long
since made my peace with it." There was a small grin on his face. "It won't be easy, especially with
all that's happened, but it was a long time coming. He wasn't looking great the last time I saw him. I
want for him to go out before it gets worse. He's the sort to prefer holding his head high right
through to the end, rather than kick and scream his way to his deathbed. Anyway, he says I've got a
hefty inheritance coming my way. He seemed quite vindictive about it, too. He knows how much it
will tick off my mother."
Marlene laughed softly. "I'd love to meet him."
"He'd love that, too." Sirius paused then, and turned to look at her. She met his gaze, and held it.
Sirius chewed on his words before he uttered them, felt their weight, their implications, and their
consequences. "I love you."
She froze.
"And I'm sorry, Mar, but I can't wait anymore. I want to be with you."
"Think about what you're saying," she said quietly.
"Marlene-"
"Think about what you're saying!" Her eyes were thunderous. "You're asking me to break off my
engagement with William!"
"Well, do you love him?"
"I…"
"Then why in the world would you marry him?"
She glared. "You're a Pureblood too. You know full well how little of this is my choice."
"All of this is your choice! Mar, how can you let your parents decide this for you?"
"I'm doing it for my parents. For my family! A lot of money is involved, and it's bigger than you
and me!"
"Do you love me?"
"What?"
"I love you. Do you love me?"
"I-It doesn't matter-"
"Of course it does! What are we doing here, Marlene?" Sirius gestured between them. "What is
this? If you're set on getting married to another man, is this just a tiny bit of fun? A prelude to your
marriage? Something that was never going to be serious, and has no meaning?"
"No!"
"Then why-"
"Yes."
Sirius froze. "What?"
Marlene stood. Sirius stood with her. Her eyes were wet. He reached out, and she moved towards
the door. "It has to be nothing. I don't want it to be, but… I'm getting married Sirius, and that isn't
going to change. I thought you understood that."
"I did. But I can't accept it anymore. It would be too painful. I love you. It's a need, it means
anything less is physically painful for me!"
Tears pooled now in her eyes, but still didn't fall. "I know." She opened the door, and light spilled
into the broom cupboard, dispelling the darkness and musty air and whatever fragile, special thing
that had resided within that place, drifting out and thinning and vanishing into the air. "This was
always going to have to end at some point, and I think we've reached that point."
"You're really doing this," Sirius said quietly, not believing the words.
"I'm sorry, Sirius. But that's just the way it has to be."
The door closed after her, and he was left alone in the darkness. Empty.
The Sleeping Dragon
"Minister," said a voice in German, "you have a visitor."
Huldrich Ehre barely looked up from the parchment in front of him. "Send him in."
The German Minister of Magic had weathered the storm of an especially trying day, and was
quickly growing tired of entertaining his visitors. It didn't help that they seldom had anything nice
to say. His heavy frame, built more for battle than for signing his approval of department budgets,
creaked the chair beneath him as he leaned back and scratched a jumble of sad blond hair that had
once been luscious.
The door opened, and he looked up with tired eyes at his latest visitor. It was a man, young and
handsome, with hair of brightest blond and the eyes of someone about to tell a joke. "I am sorry to
interrupt your work, Minister."
His German was imperfect. Huldrich tilted his head. "Your accent, is it British?"
"It is indeed."
"I do not particularly trust the British, of late." The visitor didn't seem sure how to respond, and
Huldrich gestured to the chair opposite him. "Please, sit." When the man was seated, Huldrich
steepled his fingers and leaned forward. "How may I help you?"
"I am very interested in all that you have accomplished, Minister. You have been on the cover of
the Daily Prophet's Wizards of The Year for two consecutive years, after all. Your work around
Muggleborn rights is being admired by the higher-ups in London, in the hopes of replication."
Huldrich simply inclined his head in response.
"You popularized the idea of a 'Muggle-born revolution' in your national address last year - that
more and more Muggle-borns are rising up to stand alongside Purebloods as equals. Though you
are a Pureblood yourself, people see you as a leader of this revolution, alongside the likes of Albus
Dumbledore, and the late Eugenia Jenkins. However, some small things do not quite make sense to
me. You acknowledge that Muggle-borns are being empowered within magical society, and
purport that we are closer than ever before to equality, but I am afraid I do not comprehend the
correlation."
Huldrich regarded the man shrewdly. "It is not difficult to comprehend."
"Minister, look at the world as a whole. Wizards and Witches live in hiding. That is not equality."
"If we were in the open, the natural progression is a complete magical takeover of society. That
would be far worse. While now we must simply hide in the shadows, the alternative would be to
crush the Muggles under our heel."
"You seem to think that is not an inevitability," the man snapped. He sat a little straighter. The
unsureness left his eyes like it had never really been there. "After two world wars, their technology
has come incredibly far. One day an unwitting Wizard will be caught on their cameras and his face
will be on every television screen in the world. Their shiny new weapons of mass destruction will
be turned on us in an instant. And then what?"
"They will never use nuclear weapons on us," Huldrich said, shaking his head. "There would be no
way for them to prevent harm to their own people."
"You think they care?" cried the man, jumping to his feet. "Look at what they already do to their
own people! Japan! Vietnam! Auschwitz! The Muggles are savages, dear Minister. They derive
pleasure from the infliction of pain. Pride from subjugation."
"And you think we are any better?" Huldrich asked quietly. Slowly, he rose to his feet. "House-
elves live only to serve us. Giants are almost extinct, dragons live almost exclusively in captivity.
Centaur meat is a delicacy in most countries."
"Giants and dragons have to be few and far between, just so Muggles may be kept in the dark," the
man roared. "Because we live in hiding, magical creatures are forced to suffer! I have travelled far
across the world, Minister. I have seen so much suffering. We can end it all by taking over."
"You're a bigot," Huldrich spat. "Believe me, I have encountered these arguments many times over
the course of my career, and I will no doubt encounter them many more still. By 'taking over', we
will only put Muggles into the same disadvantageous positions our magical creatures are in now.
Believe me, I do all I can to protect magical creatures. This status quo is not perfect by any means,
but every day we move closer towards a better one. We must remain in hiding. We live in relative
peace because we live in the shadows, allowing the Muggles to live blissfully unaware."
"Blissfully unaware," the man repeated softly. "In English, we have a word for that. You might
know it. Blithe."
Huldrich froze. His eyes narrowed. "You…" he said softly. "You are the man they are talking
about in the papers."
"Blithe is indifference. Blithe is carelessness." Anton Windstrum stepped closer to Huldrich's desk,
leaned against the polished wood. "Blithe is oblivion."
"Guards," called Huldrich. His breath almost caught in his throat.
"All dead, unfortunately. They recognized me. Sharp bunch, though I suppose I am something of a
fugitive these days." He titled his head. "I must say, it is nice to be home. Did you know I am
German? My parents were, anyway. Big Grindelwald supporters, too. When he fell, they moved to
England, and," he grimaced, "learned to love Muggles. They like the television, I think. Their past
used to embarrass me, until I left school and started travelling. I became enlightened. This world
will be a better place. For the greater good."
Huldrich slowly lowered himself back into his chair, and once more steepled his fingers over his
desk. "Why are you here?"
Windstrum gestured vaguely. "Take over the country, strike fear into the hearts of men, all sorts of
dastardly villainous things. I don't have much of an appetite for most of it, so I take the fun jobs
when I can. Such as this." Footsteps drew near from the other side of the door. Windstrum went to
open it, and looked back at Huldrich as he twisted the handle. "Huldrich Ehre, I would like to
introduce you to the Dark Lord. He has been dying to meet you."
Lily's thoughts whirled and pranced, did the waltz around her head for a few minutes, before she
rode them to the end of their rope, and she put the letter down. "Shit."
"What?" asked Marlene, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Is it your sister? Is she being a nutcase
again?"
"It's my sister, but she's being quite kind, actually. It's…" Lily looked around the Great Hall,
perhaps for some way to summate her thoughts, then back to Marlene. "You know how we're
selling our family house, seeing as neither of us wants to live there without our parents?"
"Yeah."
"We have a buyer."
Marlene paused. "That's… great?"
"It is, yeah. Except the family that's buying it wants to move in by some time around," Lily
grimaced at somewhere above Marlene's head, "now."
"Now?"
"Right now, yeah."
"As in…"
"As in, right now as we speak, they are there. To live."
Marlene brought the fork to her mouth and bit. Then she crunched her breakfast for a few
moments, lowered her fork, and swallowed. "You don't have a home."
"I don't have a home."
Alice frowned. "I don't get it. Just stay with one of us."
"No," said Lily forcefully. "Stop asking."
The three girls sat in the shade of the tree by the lake. Alice stared at Lily, not for the first time
wondering what in the world was going on in the girl's head. "You know Marlene or I would love
to have you. My parents love you, and Marlene's…"
"They tolerate you," said Marlene, nodding. "But we have plenty of room, so they can't complain."
"I'm not staying with either of you, for the same reason I'm not taking up Petunia on her offer to
stay with her. I appreciate all offers very much, but I won't have any of it."
Alice turned to Marlene in exasperation. "She complains about Potter being full of himself all this
time, and she's every bit as bad."
"Prideful," said Marlene. "To a fault."
"A big old fault."
"So, what's the plan, then?" Marlene asked. "You going to live on the streets?"
"I'm going to work during the break to pay my lodgings somewhere else."
"Why?" Alice asked. "Just so you can say that you didn't rely on your friends when you were in a
tough spot? That's all?"
"That's not all," Lily muttered.

"That's all," said Marlene.
"It is not."
"Lily…" Alice rubbed her eyes, "you're exhausting."
James reflected upon how the four boys had actually never intended to be known as the
'Marauders'. Their precious map's title, as Remus had frustratedly ranted about in their dormitory
shortly after they'd first heard the term being used by other students, "has an apostrophe before
the S for Merlin's sake! Otherwise we would have called it The Marauders' Map!"
Peter had then shamefacedly confessed that, after failing to quite wrap his head around apostrophes
for plurals, he had blabbered to a great number of students about how he and his infamous three
best friends would henceforth be known as the Marauders.
And so the Marauders they were.
Giving themselves a name, James reckoned, had further bolstered their celebrity within the school.
Their influence, and the admiration and envy they received, ballooned out of control. And though
he no longer found that as thrilling as he once did, it wasn't as though he could suddenly undo it all.
"Come on, Potter, two minutes."
"I'm trying to eat my breakfast, Tarkin."
"It's almost lunch," cried the other boy determined to annoy James that morning, Thorpe.
James looked up from his generously buttered toast and scowled at the two. "Do you think I don't
know that?"
"Let's just hear them, Prongs," said Sirius. His plate was relatively full too, and he looked just as
impatient. "They'll go away sooner."
"Exactly," said Tarkin excitedly.
"But that will just validate annoying me all morning as a way to get my attention," James said,
wrinkling his nose.
Remus sighed. "What if I listen to them, and you just ignore them and continue eating your
breakfast? Will that make you happy?"
James deliberated on this for a few seconds, before nodding and wordlessly turning to his food.
Remus looked at the two boys. "How can we help you two today?"
James tuned them out completely, and focused on his meal. Tarkin and Thorpe were fifth years, if
his memory served him right. They were likely popular enough among their peers, but James had
no patience for them. Both of the blond haired and blue eyed boys were rather eager to please, and
much too talkative for James' liking.
"We're the leaders of the Performing Arts Club," said Thorpe, "and we didn't get many new
members this year so we want to do a show to try and showcase how fun it is, and if the
Marauders were to be there-"
"No," said Sirius. "Now that we've settled the matter, you can leave us in peace."
"But-"
"I said no."
After a moment of looking at the expression on Sirius' face, unreasonably ferocious with gleaming
eyes, the two hung their heads in defeat and left. It occurred to James how poor of a mood Sirius
had been in recently. When he'd told James that he and Marlene had split up for good, James hadn't
quite anticipated how much it would affect his friend. James realized he had underestimated the
depth of the relationship between Sirius and Marlene.
It made James' plan for the rest of the day somewhat awkward.
"I don't want to," said Sirius venomously, as the four boys walked by the Great Lake.
Ahead was the tree that, on any given sunny day, one could always find students lounging under,
wishing to sit in the shade by the lake with their friends. It was one of the school's most sought
after hang-out spots, and presently James knew it was exactly where a certain redhead and her
friends would be.
Remus rolled his eyes. "You and Marlene breaking up doesn't mean we can't still hang out with the
girls."
"Yes it does," said Sirius immediately. "It will be uncomfortable. The wound is still raw, and-"
"Padfoot, being around her more often will be good for you," said James. "Like closure."
"You just want to see Evans."
"Yes, I absolutely do."
"That's a conflict of interest right there."
"I don't think that's what a conflict of interest is."
"No, he's right," said Peter. "It's a conflict of interest."
"Don't you go agreeing with him, Pete," James warned. "He's wrong."
"It is a conflict of interest," Remus muttered.
"Look," James huffed, "I also want to see Marlene and Alice. Marlene's my Chaser, and Alice is
my ex."
"It's always strange to hear that," Peter mused.
They came upon the tree by the lake, tall and offering a wide berth of shade, but no girls sat under
it. There were instead a few fourth years playing Gobstones, and James turned to his friends,
frowning hard. "I checked the map not ten minutes ago. She was here."
"Girls," said Sirius, shaking his head. "We can never get it right, eh, Prongs? They think it's cute to
be unpredictable. I guess we're in the same boat."
"Yes, Padfoot," said James distractedly as he looked about. "Exactly the same."
"They must have gone back inside for lunch," said Peter. "It's around that time."
"That must be it," said James, lighting up. "You know, even though I just stuffed my face, I'm
actually starting to feel quite hungry. What do you guys reckon?"
"I am extremely full," said Sirius stiffly.
Remus raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think I'd ever hear those words from your mouth, Padfoot."
"Alright," said James, clapping his hands. "We're all hungry, then. Let's be going-"
"Potter!"
James beamed and whirled around. "Alright, E- erm, McGonagall?"
Professor McGonagall paused before the four students, with Professor Sprout a few steps behind
her, looking through some sheets of parchment. "Yes, I am fine, Potter, thank you. I simply wish to
congratulate you all. Your sixth year has come to an end, and there have been no childish practical
jokes played upon your classmates. You have all grown up by a significant amount over the past
year, and I could not be more proud." She paused, then nodded curtly. "As you were."
She walked off with Professor Sprout in the direction of the green houses, and Sirius turned to the
boys. "What was that about?" A few moments of clueless silence. Then, "She… I think she's
challenging us. Am I right? She just challenged us."
Remus looked concerned. "You know what? I actually think she might be."
"Why?" James asked, scratching his head. "I suppose this is our last week of sixth year, and she
knows that we always do an end of year prank. And she knows that we know she knows it. But
why would McGonagall ever want us to do a prank?"
"Is it like a dare?" asked Peter hesitantly. "As if to say we don't have the audacity?"
Sirius shook his head. "Minerva, Minerva, Minerva."
Lily stopped by the entrance to the greenhouse and cleared her throat. "You wanted to see me,
Professor?"
Professor McGongall was peering down at an assortment of potted plants, and she glanced up
briefly at the sound of Lily's voice before turning to Professor Sprout on her other side. "These will
do just fine, Pomona. Ms Evans, good afternoon. I trust you are well?"
"I'm alright, Professor," said Lily. "And you?"
"Quite fine." McGonagall joined Lily at the greenhouse entrance and paused. "Have you had lunch
yet?"
"No, not yet."
"Walk with me to the castle, then, Ms Evans."
"Okay," said Lily slowly. McGonagall had never struck her as a conversationalist, nor the type to
seek company. She wondered if she was in some sort of trouble.
After they'd made some progress upon the path leading up to the castle, McGonagall spoke again.
"There are a few matters I must discuss with you, Ms Evans. Primarily of monetary concern."
Lily's stomach knotted. The words'monetary concern' were rarely uttered in fun conversations.
"Right."
"It has come to my attention that you will not have a home, come the end of term."
Lily blinked rapidly. "How…"
"Gossip moves blindingly fast in this castle, Ms Evans."
"But I've barely known for a day."
"Blindingly fast."
"Right." Lily grimaced, and looked sideways at her teacher as they walked. "So…"
"I have no doubt that your friends have offered you their homes for the summer break?"
"They have, yeah."
"I also have no doubt that you rejected their offers."
Lily frowned. "What makes you so sure?"
"I have been the Head of Gryffindor House for many years, Ms Evans. I am quite familiar with
students who have more pride than they often know what to do with."
"Right," said Lily again, looking away.
"There is no shame in accepting kindness, Lily."
"It's not that," Lily said quickly. "It's not shame."
McGonagall didn't respond.
"Sure, maybe a small part of me is too prideful to accept their offers, but… that's not the main
reason. I don't know. There are a lot of reasons. My parents just died. I wouldn't feel right, going to
Alice's or Marlene's, bringing my sadness to their home and joining their family at the dinner table,
like some sort of imposter, or trespasser. I want a place that feels like home."
"A home can be many things to many people. Expecting any place to immediately feel like what
you have lost is a difficult task."
"There's more," said Lily. "I don't… Their families are whole. Happy. Happy enough, at any rate.
As happy as one can be, given that they're at least alive. I think it would be painful for me, stepping
into a complete unit and standing on the outside, looking in. I reckon I've gotten quite far through
my personal grieving process, but I don't think I'm in a place yet where I can stomach something
like that."
Again, McGonagall didn't say anything.
"Petunia offered to let me stay at hers over break," Lily said, wrinkling her nose. "My sister, that is.
She and Vernon, her fiancé, have their own house now. Privet Place, or something rather. We were
on poor terms for a while, it's a long story, but recently things have been a lot better. Except… it's
fragile. Even though she offered, I don't want to push things, and undo the progress we've made. So
I won't stay with her, either."
McGonagall spoke after a few more seconds of the two trudging silently up the path. "That is a
difficult equation to solve, your friends not being fully able to comprehend your loss, and their
homes, while no doubt happy and welcoming, being possibly unhealthy for your current mental
state."
"Do you not think it would be?" Lily asked defensively.
"On the contrary, I think it is entirely likely. The smallest things can affect us in the biggest ways.
Especially when we are at our most vulnerable."
"You understand, then."
"I do. I had suspected as much. Perhaps not all of that, but enough. You will rent a home, then? A
flat, or apartment?"
"Yes. I've already started looking for cheap places in London. As expected, there are not many."
"No, I would imagine not. This is why I have sought you out, actually. Of the many overdue
changes Eugenia Jenkins made during her time, there is one that applies specifically to Muggle-
borns in your precise situation. I have the forms prepared already, awaiting yours and the
Headmaster's signatures."
Lily frowned, racking her brain. She'd been an avid Jenkins supporter, after all, and was annoyed to
find herself at a loss for what McGonagall referred to. "I'm not sure what you're talking about,
Professor."
"Ms Evans, if you so desire, you will receive an allowance from the Ministry, of which you need
not pay back a Knut, for as long as you study at Hogwarts while paying board for any lodgings
outside the castle. It is not an immense amount, but I imagine it will go a long way towards easing
your stress management over the break."
Lily stopped walking. "Professor, I cannot accept that-"
"There is some pride I will tolerate, Lily Evans, and there is some for which I have very little
patience. When life gives you pumpkins, you must make pumpkin juice. It is well past time you do
so."
When James and the boys stepped back into the Great Hall, the sullen and subdued atmosphere in
the room stuck out like Snape's nose. The chatter passing across the tables, usually raucous and
filled with energy, now sounded more akin to small talk at a funeral.
"Something's wrong," said Remus.
James hung his head. "Lily's not here."
"No, look around. Why does everyone seem so dull?"
"When Lily's not around, everything seems-"
Sirius gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Prongs, something must have happened. Oi!" A third
year walked past with a copy of the afternoon paper in hand, and Sirius snatched it off him. "Let's
see that." The boys gathered around Sirius, scanning the front page and ignoring the scowling third
year.
"Hm," said Remus.
It was an obituary for another series of killings having taken place the previous night. Politicians
and leaders. Some names James recognized, others were foreign, and obscure. Needless to say,
they'd found the source of the dampened mood. These sorts of papers always darkened the day.
"Now it makes sense," said Sirius, a gleam in his eye.
"What?" James asked, still looking at the paper.
"McGonagall does want us to do a prank!"
"What?" James said again, looking at his friend now. "Did you hear what you just said?"
"Look around, Prongs! It's the last few days of term and everyone's spirits are intolerably low. She
wants us to cheer them all up!"
"I agree with Sirius," said Remus quietly, as the four boy went to sit at the Gryffindor table, and set
about piling food onto their plates once again. "That was a request from her, looking back." Sirius
opened his mouth, looking excited, and Remus continued. "However, I imagine she is expecting
something in particular. Something that will make every house happy, that will cheer everyone up
rather than pick on a few."
James bit his lip. "We're one hundred percent sure that this is what McGonagall wants? We're not
over-analyzing?"
"I really think she wants us to do something, James," said Remus. "Fun, and for the whole school."
"I don't know how that would work," said Sirius, frowning. "The whole point of a prank is
that someone has to be a victim. The whole school can't be in on it. Otherwise it's not a prank. It's
barely even a practical joke!"
"And therein lies the challenge," said Remus. "This might just be our most difficult prank yet. We
have to do the impossible."
"To make people laugh without picking on anyone," James mused. "Quite the conundrum."
The others grunted their agreement. For a few moments there was silence, as each boy chewed
their food and gazed around the Great Hall ponderously. James' eyes came to a stop when he
spotted Tarkin and Thorpe, sitting further down the table with a few other students, presumably the
rest of their Performing Arts club, their heads all bowed in defeat.
James turned to look at Sirius. "Hear me out."
On the last night of term, people still seemed generally downcast. Dumbledore gave a speech that
garnered some chuckles, and the feast was grand, with every dish being someone's favorite, but
everything seemed a little less vibrant, and there was nothing to be done about it. The mood had
pervaded the school for days. A casualty of war, Lily supposed.
"I'm surprised at you," Alice told her while they ate. "The train comes at eleven in the morning
tomorrow and you're not even packed yet. The Lily of years past would have had a fit."
"The Lily of years past has… passed," she replied. Her eyes lingered further along the table. She
hadn't talked to James in a number of days, not properly, and the more time that passed, the more
aware she was of it. The break was going to be a nightmare.
"What do you reckon?"
Lily looked at Marlene on her other side. "What?"
Marlene nodded in the direction Lily had been gazing. "Their prank. They always do one at the end
of term."
"Oh, right." Lily looked back at the four boys and thought about it. She wanted to say they had
grown beyond that sort of thing, but she caught the look on all their faces. She reckoned she knew
James Potter very well by now, and he only wore the look of innocence on his features when he
was in the very thick of some mischief. "Oh, bollocks."
"I hope they don't go overboard," said Alice. "I'm not sure everyone's in the mood for it."
"I'm not sure those four ever account for what anyone's in the mood for," said Marlene. Lily
noticed the girl was looking specifically at Sirius.
"Merlin only knows what they have planned," said Lily absentmindedly.
"Why would Merlin know?" asked Alice.
"Isn't that-" Lily frowned. "That's the saying. Magical people swap 'Merlin' with 'god', so I said,
'Merlin only-'"
"We do no such thing," said Marlene bemusedly. "We say, 'Merlin's beard', sure, because Merlin
had a very long beard. But we don't go saying, 'Oh, my Merlin,' now, do we?"
"I- Well, I suppose not."
The Great Hall went quiet when Dumbledore stood and spoke, wishing them a safe and happy
break, and that they may return for their next year invigorated and ready to learn once again. They
clapped, he bid them all a good night, then there was an explosion in the Entrance Hall.
Everyone gasped as waves of heat and sound washed over them, and all heads snapped over to stare
out at the source.
"Those absolute hooligans," Marlene breathed.
A dragon was in the Entrance Hall. Lily couldn't believe her eyes - she never thought she'd see one
in the flesh - but there it was, defying logic and reason. Red and enormous, it curled up by the
staircase and looked in at them all, eyes flitting around lazily. It was almost too big for the
Entrance Hall, there seemed to be no space for it to move, and it looked into the Great Hall, seeing
all the space and short meals it could ask for, and it's eyes betrayed a hunger as immense as its
body.
The teachers, after a moment of bewildered staring, rushed and clambered down together from
their table, racing out to the Entrance Hall. McGonagall barely spared James, Sirius, Remus, and
Peter a contemptuous glance as she stormed past. Lily heard her mutter, "This is what happens
when they're given a chance."
The teachers launched jinxes at the dragon as soon as they were close enough, trying to move it
back. Once all of them were battling it, their spells careening harmlessly onto the creature's hide,
and no more teachers were left in the Great Hall, the gigantic doors between the halls creaked and
groaned, then shut behind the lot of them.
There was a moment of silence in the Great Hall, with just the students left, and before absolute
chaos had the chance to rear its head, James stood up onto the Gryffindor table and raised his hand.
All heads turned to him.
"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present: The Sleeping Dragon!"
He made a sweeping gesture, and all candles in the Great Hall were suddenly extinguished. The
only light in the hall left was from the stars above them all, glittering down from the enchanted
ceiling.
Then wandlight briefly shone onto James' face. "Also that wasn't a real dragon, it's a boggart. Did
you know Wendall Pyke's worst fear is a dragon? Anyway, enjoy the show."
His light went out, and there was darkness again. Confused mutterings among the students filled
the room for a few seconds, before the candles on the teachers' table all lit up. Only, the teachers'
table wasn't there anymore.
James sat down, his smug grin identical to that of Sirius, Remus, and Peter's, and the four boys
watched with the rest of the students as the raised area at the front of the Great Hall that usually
housed the teachers' table lit up, candles raised above it, cleared of the teachers' table and
completely bare, but for Tarkin standing at the centre, beaming out at them all. "Welcome, fellow
students! The Hogwarts Performing Arts club, in association with the Marauders, are excited to
present to you, The Sleeping Dragon! A play of Hogwarts' founders four, but with an exciting twist
- you get to choose the ending!"
After a moments' silence, applause broke out among the students. James looked around with
satisfaction as he observed interested, even excited expressions on his fellow students' faces. The
Slytherins, as always, looked somewhat sour. The four boys had been well aware that they were
effectively taking all the students hostage for the show, regardless of whether or not they wanted to
watch it, but to open up those giant doors for the students would be to allow the teachers to shut
this all down. To do what McGonagall had asked of them, the boys had resigned themselves to
making her very, very angry.
"So," continued Tarkin, "sit tight, enjoy your meals, and please refrain from talking during the
show."
"Meals?" James heard a few confused voices murmur.
Curtains materialized, hanging from nothing, and obscured what was now the stage. Once again
the only sources of light were the stars above them all, and James had to shine wandlight on his
face again and stand on the table to reclaim attention. "If you would all please stand."
He waited, and looked at them all expectantly. They weren't too happy about that one. Grumbles
and unenthusiastic chatter rose, but once all arses had left seats James and Sirius waved their wands
and all the tables and rows of seats vanished completely. They waved their wands again, and
before the stage appeared rows upon rows of picnic blankets, many filled to the edges of their
fabric with stacks of delicious night time sweets and treats, steaming mugs of cocoa and fresh,
thirst-quenching pumpkin juice. It was much too much food for the students to hope to run out of,
and the mutterings instantly turned appreciative, the faces excited again. James even spied a few
Slytherins fighting over picnic blankets and food, and he turned to the other three.
"We've done it, boys."
"Steady on, Prongs," said Sirius, and the four made their way over to an empty picnic blanket. "The
show hasn't even started yet."
"Well, I have a fantastic feeling about it."
"You four are something else, really."
The boys looked over to see Alice smiling and shaking her head, bringing with her Frank, Marlene,
and Lily. They had gathered food and drink, more than necessary for all eight of them, and Frank
dragged another picnic blanket over for them to join the four boys.
"We do try our best," said Remus, smiling back.
"What on earth compelled you to team up with the Performing Arts club?" asked Frank.
"We decided to do a prank for everyone this time," said James. "Our very first time."
Lily threw him an appreciative smile, and James winked. They hadn't properly chatted in a couple
days, and her smiles were hitting his gut extra hard. Alice and Frank sat down next James, and Lily
was forced to sit with Marlene on their other side.
"What did the boy mean by we get to choose the ending?" Marlene called over.
"That was our idea," said Peter happily. "Their original play was boring, so we spiced it up here
and there. And to get everyone even more interested and attentive, we're all going to choose how it
ends!"
"Fascinating," said Lily. "Honestly, I approve."
"We're glad," said Remus. "Pay attention now. It's starting."
Behind the curtains, Tarkin and Thorpe stood together dressed in frilly robes and tights - their
Godric and Salazar costumes. With them were Elisa and Theodosia, two very pretty girls who were
the only other members of the little acting troupe, dressed as Helga and Rowena respectively. At
the back of what was now their stage was a makeshift dressing room Remus Lupin had conjured
for them, with a Disillusionment charm cast upon it to hide it from the audience once the curtains
were drawn.
"We wanted exposure to get new members," Eliza hissed to the two boys. "I thought that would
mean a performance to perhaps thirty students, not the entire school!"
"What did you say to the Marauders?" asked Theodosia, looking genuinely impressed. "How in the
world did you get them to help us?"
"They see Tarkin and myself as their proteges," said Thorpe with a smirk, sticking his arm out to
lean against a wall. When he found no wall, hand groping thin air, he stood straighter and put his
arms behind his back. "They think rather highly of us."
"Yup," said Tarkin. He tried to shuffle a little closer to Eliza. "I imagine once they leave Hogwarts,
the mantle of resident pranksters will fall to us."
"Right," said Eliza, grimacing.
"It's true," said Thorpe, giving Theodosia what he must have thought was a wink but what came
across more as an involuntary twitch. "We're going to be a big deal."
"Okay," said Theodosia, with the restrained air of feigned interest. "Great. So, erm, we're ready for
act one, then? Shall we begin?"
"Right." Thorpe straightened. "We're beginning."
"Let's begin," said Tarkin quickly. He turned, stumbled into Thorpe, and they each disentangled
themselves and hurried on.
"Are you girls ready?" Thorpe asked, striding to the curtains. "This is going to be absolutely- How
do you open these?"
"You pull the rope," said Tarkin.
"I'm pulling."
"Here, move aside. I think it takes two."
"The curtains are charmed," said Eliza. "Pulling won't-"
"Hold on, love, we've got it," said Tarkin, sparing her a gracious smile.
"Are you pulling, Tarkin?"
"I'm pulling."
"Pull harder, then- Oh, I think we pull this one actually."
"Right you are, Thorpe. Okay, let's pull."
"On three. One, two-"
"Why would you count it down? Just pull it now!"
"Ah, right you are, Tarkin. One, two-"
"Just pull!"
"Alright, I'm pulling!"
Eliza and Theodosia shared a glance, one which they'd been forced into growing quite accustomed
to sharing, and together they lifted and waved their wands, and-
The curtains parted. Tarkin and Thorpe blinked out at their audience for a few seconds, and silence
followed. James frowned. This wasn't the captivating start he'd envisioned.
"Hark," cried out Eliza, in her yellow Hufflepuffian gown. "Here come two brave warriors!"
Theodosia clapped her hands over her cheeks and huffed, blue dress willowing around her. "As I
live and breath! It's Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin!"
After a few seconds, Tarkin stopped blinking dumbly and stood at full height, puffing his chest
out. "Indeed, it is I! Godric Gryffindor!"
Thorpe quickly matched his friend's movements, making them perhaps even grander. "And I,
Salazar Slytherin!"
There were cheers and boos from different parts of the audience at both boys' announcements.
James smiled. That was better.
"We have come from far away, survived fierce battles, fought all manner of man and beast, and
now we have returned."
"Yes," said Thorpe, "and we are best friends!"
"Yes, very best friends! Nothing will ever break our bond."
Thorpe nodded. "Ever."
Some of the students giggled.
Peter leaned close to Frank. "The joke is that they do actually stop being-"
"I get it, Pete."
James, while looking around at the faces of each student, caught a look on Sirius' face, eyes fixed
upon Marlene. And they burned with intensity.
"Aye," called Tarkin, "we know each other's every thought! There is no secret between Godric and
Salazar."
James nudged him, and Sirius glanced at him in surprise, the intensity fading. "Let's go for a
walk."
To the left of the stage was a door that led to a chamber with portraits adorning the walls. James
and Sirius had spent many detentions cleaning these portraits. Admittedly, they had received just as
many detentions for vandalizing them in the first place.
"What?" asked Sirius when James closed the door behind them.
"We need to talk about McKinnon."
"How much do you think there is to talk about, Prongs? Seriously. It's over. Stop bringing it up."
"It's over to her, sure. But don't try convincing me that it's over for you. We're far too similar for
me to ever believe that, and we've both seen how bad I am at letting things go."
Sirius scowled. "What is there to talk about? I already told you. She broke up with me, she's getting
married, and there's nothing I can do. Sure, you're right. I haven't let her go yet. I haven't
even begun to let her go. I'm not sure I can. But that doesn't mean I haven't given up, because I
have. Like I said, there's nothing I can do."
Sirius had turned as he spoke, facing a portrait on the wall with his back to James. They were both
quiet for a few seconds. Sirius' breathing was heavy. James waited, perhaps for a minute, before
prompting him. "That's not all, though. Is it?"
Sirius' voice was strained, and he spoke quietly. "I lose everything, Prongs. Every time something
good sneaks its way into my life, I lose it. Every," his shoulders shuddered, "time."
James walked to him quickly, put a hand on his shoulder, settled it. "It might seem that way, but
you know it's not true. I'll always be right here. You think you'll ever lose me?"
"No," Sirius muttered.
"Or Remus? Or Peter?"
"No."
"Never. You'll likely lose much, much more in your life, but there are some things you have that
will never leave you."
Sirius turned. If there had been tears on his face, James saw no sign of them. Sirius grimaced. "And
I suppose one of those things is you?"
James clapped his shoulder and smirked. "Always."
"Fight, fight, fight," chanted Mulciber and Travers, pumping their fists with all the rest of the
students.
"You lied to me," Salazar roared on the stage, brandishing his wand grandly.
"No," Godric yelled back, pulling his own wand out. "You lied to me!"
"Oh, yeah?" Salazar's face broke out into a snide grin. "When was the last time you saw Helga, old
friend?"
Godric narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying?"
"Months, perhaps?" Salazar laughed. "I can tell you why that is. It is because she has been in my
bed!"
The students all gasped. Mulciber clapped a hand over his mouth and looked at Travers, who had a
look of equal shock on his face.
"I'll kill you," Godric bellowed.
"You will try!"
Mulciber whooped. "Get him, Salazar!"
At the interlude, Remus flicked his wand, lighting up all the candles in the Great Hall once more.
He'd had to conjure a makeshift toilet at the back of the hall halfway into act two, cursing himself
and the boys for their lack of foresight. Now students rushed to this group of wooden structures
Remus had hastily put together, while the rest of them restocked their picnic blankets with more
food and drink.
Remus looked over as James and Sirius returned at last, and called to them. "You've missed half the
play."
James shrugged. "We wrote the play. I'm sure we'll manage to keep up from here."
"And what a fantastic play it is," said Alice, her eyes dancing. "You've managed to make a story
we've all heard a million times interesting again. And it's so brave, too."
"Thank you," said James, smiling. Then he paused. "Brave?"
"Yeah, I mean it's a brave move to make the main characters a same-sex couple. You don't see that
every day."
"Same-" James shook his head. "What?"
He then heard snippets of conversations from the picnic blankets around them.
"I cannot wait for Godric and Salazar to get together. I'm so impatient I think I'll die."
"Yeah, why have they been dragging it out for so long? I thought for sure it would have happened
by now."
"They have so much chemistry, too. They're going to make such a good couple."
"Prongs," Sirius muttered, "I think we were away for too long."
Lily was watching James' face, seeming to be holding back laughter. "You didn't plan this," she
said. "Did you?"
James shook his head. He looked around. Every student was talking animatedly among themselves,
and the only words he grasped were, Godric, Salazar, and, We're so close to it, I can feel it!
He was positively baffled. "How on earth do you all think the relationship between Gryffindor and
Slytherin is romantic? They hate each other!"
"Potter," said Lily, "sometimes that's the most romantic thing in the world."
James' throat constricted for a second as their eyes met and he coughed. "On occasion, perhaps. But
the founders? Really?"
"We can hardly complain," said Remus. "It seems to be half the reason they're all enjoying the
show. The only problem is, now they're expecting it to happen. We might have to change the script
at this point."
Just then, James heard his name being called and he turned. Tarkin and Thorpe approached, each
beaming. Other students would call and wave to them, and the two would puff their chests out,
their grins inflating to the point of bursting.
"We have to thank you, Potter," said Tarkin. "This has all really worked out splendidly. They love
us!"
James smiled, wondering if Tarkin had yet realized the reason the students suddenly loved them.
"No problem."
"We're very excited to see what kind of ending all these adoring fans cook up for us," said Thorpe.
"We haven't heard a peep from the other students about it yet, so don't tell us!"
"I won't," said James truthfully. "Listen. As planned, we're going to collect their votes on slips of
parchment. Now, boys, however the audience decides the play ends, that's how it ends. Do you
understand me?"
"James," said Tarkin, laughing and throwing an arm around James' shoulder. "We're professionals!
Of course we'll stick to the plan."
"The audience knows best," said Thorpe, smiling broadly.
"Good men," said James. He clapped them both on the shoulder, and sent them off. Then he looked
at his friends. "I'm very lucky those two annoy me so much. It makes being dishonest a whole lot
easier."
When enough time had passed Remus extinguished all the lights again, all students took their seats,
the curtains slid open, and the play resumed.
"I'm leaving," Salazar roared. "But I will have my revenge, Gryffindor. I have left something. A
creature, as deadly as it is enormous. And… it is very enormous! One day my heir will come to this
school and exact my vengeance upon you!"
Theodosia held a hand over her heart. "Salazar, no!"
"You would do that, old friend?" Godric asked. "To the school we dedicated our lives to making a
reality?"
"If it would make you suffer?" Salazar raised his arms in a mighty gesture. "I would do anything!"
"Oh, Godric," cried Helga, running to him and taking his arm. "Please, don't let him do it!"
Marlene leaned over to James. "I'm not a fan of how both the females in this play are little more
than damsels in distress."
James opened his mouth.
"That was my idea," called Sirius, sitting on the other side of James and Remus.
Marlene glared.
James scratched his nose and chose not to say anything.
It took Professor McGonagall longer than she'd care to admit to realize the dragon was a mere
boggart. Once Professor Kettleburn vanquished the boggart, his worst fear being his wife, the
teachers all focussed on the door.
It took Professor McGonagall longer than she'd care to admit to figure out how in the world to
break the seal on those doors, too.
"Mighty talented wizards, those four boys," chortled Professor Slughorn, who watched with his
hands in his pockets while McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick struggled with the door.
McGonagall exhaled sharply through her nose as yet another spell dissipated into the polished
wooden doors. "Where is Albus?" she asked the rest of the staff. "I haven't seen him since the
dragon appeared."
"Boggart," Slughorn corrected.
"Maybe he's checking the school's defences," Flitwick suggested. "As far as he knows,
a dragon has been smuggled into the school!"
"But why would Potter and his friends go to so much trouble just to keep us out here?" Sprout
asked. "What kind of prank is that?"
"An extremely foolish one," said McGonagall sharply. "When I am through with those boys, they'll
never want to prank again."
"First we have to get to them," pointed out Slughorn.
"Perhaps you would like to do the honors then, Horace," McGonagall suggested.
"I will do my best," he said cheerfully. She stepped aside and he took her position, breathed deeply,
and raised his wand.
There was a loud click. Slughorn opened and closed his mouth quickly, then tilted his head.
"I've done it," said Flitwick, lowering his wand. "Let's go."
"Yes," said Slughorn. "Filius and I seem to be on the same page. Let us go!"
Sound escaped past the doors now. Laughter and cheers. McGonagall pushed through the doors
and slipped into the Great Hall. She spent a good few moments marvelling at the scene before her.
The others teachers joined her, bemusement turning into understanding and soon amusement.
"Marvelous, isn't it?"
McGonagall whirled around. Just by the doors, Albus Dumbledore sat cross legged on a picnic
blanket laden with sherbet lemons and Fizzing Whizbees. He looked up at her, the corners of his
piercing blue eyes crinkled, half-moon spectacles folded and lying on the blanket.
"They've put on a fantastic show."
"Will you ever see Salazar again?" Helga asked on the stage, hands clutched to her chest.
"I know not," said Godric, shaking his head sadly. "I know not."
Dumbledore popped a candy into his mouth. "I especially enjoy the direction they chose to take the
relationship between Gryffindor and Slytherin in. It's… refreshing."
McGonagall stepped closer to his picnic blanket, and as she watched the show on the stage, and the
audience clapping, laughing, cheering, booing, enjoying themselves, the fury slowly left her eyes.
"Hours ago these students were ending their school year dejected and scared," she said quietly.
Dumbledore didn't respond.
"I had been right, it seems then, to defer to those four to lift morale. Would you agree?"
"Oh," said Dumbledore, chuckling, "I most certainly would."

"They have a knack for this sort of thing. They always have. Until recently they never used it
appropriately. What do you think changed, Albus?"
"The world changed. And it changed them." After a few more seconds, Dumbledore added, "One
of them in particular."
She knew, of course, who that was. "He has grown remarkably in a very short amount of time.
Now he is a fantastic leader."
"He was always a fantastic leader."
"Was he?"
"The potential was always there. It is a matter of cultivating that potential, Minerva. That is what
we do here. That is our job. You have always asked why I am so lenient on those four boys."
Dumbledore pointed to the stage. "It is to reach this point."
McGonagall crossed her arms. "You knew, then. Didn't you? From the first time they stepped foot
in this school, you knew we would eventually reach here. And, in fact, alongside Ms Evans, we
have two students who, in their leadership, stand head and shoulders above their peers. You knew
that James Potter would one day be our strongest contender for Head..." She shook her head and
laughed dumbly. She couldn't even say it. Dumbledore, as expected, seemed not to share her
surprise.
"I guessed. And my guesses have, usually, been good," Dumbledore said happily.
The two were silent for what seemed like a long time, and McGonagall could only shake her head.
It had been no secret to James that Tarkin and Thorpe very much fancied Eliza and Theodosia
respectively. He had written their love interests into the play accordingly, after all, and spared
apologies for the two girls only in his mind.
The play had been intended to end with both couples getting together. It had been intended to.
The four cast members stood on the stage, 'frozen in place' while James and Sirius gathered
parchment from all students. "Godrizar? Gryfferin?" a third year girl contemplated loudly. "I don't
know what to call it!"
With all parchment collected, the James and Sirius analyzed the data.
"Right," said Sirius. "There's no avoiding it now."
James wrote on one more piece of parchment, hurried to the stage, and passed it to Eliza. The four
characters unfroze, and James rejoined his friends on their picnic blanket.
"I've just received a letter from my father, offering his advice," Eliza said to the other three.
"What did he say?" asked Tarkin.
"Yeah, what did he say?" asked Thorpe.
Both had their wands pointed at each other's throats.
Eliza put a hand to her mouth, and it looked to James like she was stifling a giggle. "He says… He
says he wants you two to-" She cleared her throat and put on a serious expression. "Godric, Salazar,
my father says it is time for the two of you to be together."
The two boys paused.
"What?" asked Tarkin.
"Your love has been forbidden all this time, but now my father offers his blessing."
Sirius shook his head beside James. "This makes no sense within the context of the story."
"Shush," Alice ordered.
Theodosia took a peek at the parchment in Eliza's hands and turned, the cogs turning behind her
eyes. She was beaming. "It is time. Oh, great warriors… kiss!"
The audience grew raucous. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
Thorpe tried to say something, but it was lost to the crowd, lost to the chanting, the excited
bellows. Both boys' eyes searched the crowd, then rested on James pleadingly.
James gave a stern nod, and furrowed his brows as threateningly as possible.
Tarkin and Thorpe glanced at each other. The chanting picked up pace and volume. After a few
more seconds, they seemed to accept their fates. They screwed up their faces, grimacing and
wincing already, eyes shut tight, noses wrinkled, and stuck out their chins. They moved closer. The
crowd grew into a frenzy, the chant unintelligible from screams now. Noses touched.
Then, at last, tightly shut lips pressed together, and the Great Hall erupted. The embrace was held
for all of three seconds, then the two boys shoved each other away, spluttering and coughing and
wiping their faces. The audience cared not, going wild, throwing food into the air, applause and
cheers filling the room. James even spotted tears on a handful of faces.
Eliza and Theodosia rushed forward gleefully, linked arms with the two boys, and the Hogwarts
Performing Arts Club bowed as one amid applause so great, one might think the four had just won
the House Cup.
The teachers had taken charge afterwards, ushering students to their dorms and wishing them all a
safe trip home. McGonagall had looked ready to give James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter the talking-
to of their lives, but at a touch on the arm from Dumbledore, she sighed and turned to lead some
first years from the hall. Dumbledore had seemed amused by what had transpired, congratulated
the four on a job well done, and instructed them to tidy up the Great Hall.
A fairly light punishment, Lily reckoned, but she didn't much care these days.
Frank, Alice, Marlene, and herself had elected to help the four boys, and they were making light
work of the task.
"You still need to pack your bags, Lily," Alice called as she vanished a few picnic blankets.
"I know."
"What time do you have to be there?"

"My landlord wants my tenant agreement by five. Otherwise, he says our agreement is void and I'll
have nowhere to live."
"That sounds shady," said Frank, lining the house tables back in place with a charm.
"That's London," said Lily.
She didn't notice James turn to Marlene and Alice inquisitively, didn't register their voices.
Frank grimaced. "Yeah. Hey, I know you already said no to Alice and Mar, but-"
"No, Longbottom," Lily said flatly.
"Right you are," he said, nodding and focussing again on the tables.
She was grateful to all of them, of course she was. Their offers meant a great deal to her. It was no
small order, to open one's home to another for months on end, regardless of how close they were.
Be that as it may, she still could not do it.
Their full homes would only remind her of what she had lost. And none of them could comprehend
that loss.
"Oi, Evans!"
Her head whipped around. James approached, with rolled up picnic blankets tucked under one arm.
"I hear you're going to flat in London?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
"No, you're not." James walked on, went to roll up the next picnic blanket. "You're moving into my
place. I need more company other than just Sirius and the House-elves."
"Oi," complained Sirius.
Lily's answer was much quicker than it should have been. Much simpler than it should have been.
But, as sudden as it was, it was a quick and simple matter. Pride and hesitation were swallowed,
and Lily nodded happily. "Okay."
The Torment of Anton Windstrum
The sunlight of a beautiful morning lit up the dormitory. Lily packed clothes into her bag,
humming a tune for a song that didn't exist. Everyone else was getting a quick breakfast before
leaving for the train, but Lily had left packing to the last minute. She didn't mind. At times like
these she enjoyed her own thoughts more than any conversation. At any rate, she suspected that she
wouldn't have very much meditative time over the break.
She was going to live with James Potter over her summer break before seventh year. Throughout
the night, throughout the morning, the thought had swung back and forth through her mind like a
pendulum. She'd been to Potter Manor before, of course. It was an extraordinary place. Now she
was going to live there. With House-elves, Sirius… James.
She wondered what a younger Lily Evans would make of this situation. She wondered what a
younger Lily Evans would make of her.
Appalled on both fronts, most likely.
She was going to live with James. The thought swung through her head again. This was an
incredibly intimate thing to do. Although, she reflected, they had become fairly intimate with each
other. Of course they hadn't indulged their intimacy for some time now, not really, but a whole
summer living with him? Something… untoward was bound to happen, surely. It didn't surprise
Lily at all to find her heart racing at the thought. She'd grown quite familiar with the feeling over
the past year.
Sixth year had been disastrous and beautiful. There were many moments she would change, many
more she held most dear. Whether she liked it or not, she was a different person, and her life,
everything discernable on her horizon, had been irreversibly altered. For better or worse.
"That," said Dumbledore, frowning, stroking his beard, "is very grave news."
"Indeed," said Harold Minchum, sitting on the other side of the Headmaster's desk. There were
lines on the Minister for Magic's forehead that hadn't been there a few months ago. "All
communications with the German Ministry have been lost. I haven't heard back from any of our
delegates in days. I expect they're all dead. We have to assume that Voldemort has taken complete
control over Germany."
Dumbledore let out a breath. "So the rumors were all true."
"It certainly seems that way. I wasn't around, but I am aware this is the same thing Grindelwald did
while rising to power. It's the same country that he's taken control of, too."
"They were difficult times," said Dumbledore. "Although I fear the steepest mountains lie only
ahead of us. I fear we must go to war."
"We are already at war."
"Yet here we sit."
"You and I do not have the liberty of getting our hands dirty, Professor. You yourself only got
involved against Grindelwald when you absolutely had to. How was the war fought before then, I
wonder?"
Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, considered a particular letter he'd sent out no less than a week
ago, and let a small smile reach his face. "With good soldiers."
Fabian and Gideon Prewett were in a bind, there were no two ways about it.
"Who sent you?" asked the man pointing the gun at them.
"Sent us?" asked Fabian. "You are being paranoid, my friend. We broke into your warehouse of our
own volition."
"That's right," said Gideon, nodding. "You can point a gun at us, you can shoot us, kill us, but you
may never rob us of our agency."
"We'd rather you didn't shoot or kill us at all," said Fabian quickly. "My brother is only being
poetic."
The man didn't seem to know what to make of their answers. He waved the gun, as though to
remind them of its threat. "Why are you here?"
The brothers looked at each other. They shared dark hair and dark eyes, and perhaps they had the
same nose, but the similarities ended there. Fabian was tall, thin, and his eyebrows were thicker,
making his face look more stern. Gideon was short, stocky, with a wide chest and bulging biceps;
his eyebrows were always raised, his smile always wide. Side by side they looked like the number
ten.
"I won't insult your intelligence," said Fabian. "You're clearly a very smart man. We came here to
use your toilet, but we got lost."
The man frowned. "You snuck onto my boat, halfway across the Pacific Ocean, to use the toilet?"
Gideon looked at Fabian. "We're on a boat?"
"No," said Fabian, frowning.
A few shipping containers slid across the ground, then slowed, and started sliding the other way.
Gideon looked around the vast room they had mistook for a warehouse upon apparating in, seeing
everything sway to and fro. He looked down at his legs. He was swaying to and fro. "Fabian, we're
on a boat."
"Fascinating," murmured Fabian. "So if one apparates to a place they have been before, but that
place moves elsewhere, they are taken to the new place rather than the old."
"In that case," said Gideon, "instead of London we are, what did he say? In the Pacific Ocean?"
"What the blazes are the two of you talking about?" asked the man. He waved the gun again, eyes
beginning to bulge. "What are you doing here?"
The brothers raised their hands in the air. "Relax," said Gideon, giving the man one of his famous
charming smiles. "We aren't going to hurt you."
The man found this funny. "Hurt me?"

"We only want to ask you a few questions. How did you come by your cargo?"
For the first time, the man looked cautious. "Through legal methods. I have the papers."
"No, you don't," said Fabain dismissively. He turned to his brother. "Let's just take him down
now."
"We're not taking him down," said Gideon, his smile still in place. "We're here to have a discussion
with him."
"A discussion at gunpoint," the man pointed out, waving the gun yet again.
"It's a discussion at gunpoint," Fabian told his brother.
"It's a discussion at gunpoint among friends," Gideon stressed.
"If you two don't start giving me some answers…"
"You took the words right out of my mouth," said Gideon. "Mr Crawford, let us cease beating
around the bush. Where did you get the Centaurs?"
The man froze. The gun quivered. "The what?"
"Centaurs," said Fabian impatiently. "Half men, half horses. You have shipping containers full of
them, and if I had to take a guess I'd say we're on our way to, what? Asia? China?"
Mr Crawford's mouth worked up and down for a few seconds before he found his voice. "You're…
you're them. You're both Warlocks."
"Wizards," Gideon corrected politely.
"Who's them?" Fabian pressed. "Who have you met with in the last week? Flint? Macnair?"
The man shook his head. "I'm not telling you."
The brothers' eyes widened.
"Sallow?" Gideon exclaimed. "You're shipping Centaurs for Sallow?"
The man shook his head faster. "No!"
"He is!" Fabian looked at his brother in alarm. "Merlin, these Centaurs might already be dead!"
They turned and hurried to the nearest container, reaching into their pockets for their-
"Stop right there," the man shouted, firing a round off. There was a clang, and a shell clattered onto
the floor. There was a dent in the container in front of them. The brothers froze, and turned around
slowly.
"Don't," said the man slowly, gun unwavering now, hesitation gone from his face, "even think
about it."
"Think about what?" asked Fabian.
"Remove your hands from your pockets, slowly. If I see even the point of a wand, I shoot."
Grimacing, Gideon and Fabian slowly lifted their hands from their pockets, empty. Now that his
shock had worn off, the man seemed much more of a threat. He took a few steps forward, gun
moving from one brother to the other. "Now, you're going to explain to me exactly how you found
me, so that I can avoid meeting freaks like the two of you again. Then, I'll shoot three bullets
through each of your skulls and tip you over the side of the boat. Sound good?"
Gideon opened his mouth to say no. Then there was a white flash of light, and Mr Crawford
stopped moving suddenly, his eyes unfocused, before he tipped sideways and hit the ground, gun
clattering away from him.
"One day," came a familiar voice to the brothers, "I'd like to run into the two of you without having
to save your lives."
A man jumped down from atop one of the shipping containers.
"Edgar," said Fabian, nodding.
Edgar Bones' hair was grey, though he was no older than they were. He wore a vest, showing off
toned arms and a lean figure, with a shiny gold chain around his neck. The corners of light blue
eyes crinkled as he regarded them.
Gideon took the opportunity to blast open the door to one of the shipping containers. "Lumos," he
murmured.
By wandlight, he could make out figures in the dark. Bodies of gleaming chestnut brown, strong,
powerful. Hooves clinked upon the metal floor. Gideon had expected fear, but when he raised his
wand he saw valour, pride upon the faces of each Centaur in the container. Their shoulders,
rippling with sinew and muscle, were wide, their heads held high. Gideon looked at the one at the
front, and bowed his head. "We're busting you guys out," he whispered.
"Dumbledore wants us," said Edgar loudly behind him.
Gideon turned from the container, brow furrowed.
Edgar put his hands in his pockets and surveyed the brothers with a grimace. "He sent me a letter
last week. The war is escalating. He needs help."
"Tell him to round some Aurors up," said Fabian. Neither brother was looking particularly
enthusiastic. "Form a new team."
"He did," said Edgar. "You must have heard of it. Caradoc Dearborn, Sawyer Hughes, the Potters.
All dead."
"See?" said Fabian. "That's what happens! Same as us, he gets us to form a team, we do his dirty
work for him all over Germany, then we go to raid Nurmengard with him, and the three of us are
the only ones to come out alive!"
"Barnabus survived Nurmengard, if you recall," Edgar pointed out.
"The blood loss killed Barnabus hours later," Fabian snapped. "Tell Dumbledore to find some new
suicidal fools."
"Also we've started a band," said Gideon, scratching his head. "I'd hate to die before we record our
album."
"We did good work in Germany," said Edgar. "The seven of us saved hundreds of thousands of
lives." There was the rattling of hooves against metal, and the Centaurs emerged from the shipping
container. They squinted at the light, raising their hands to their eyes, taking deep breaths of fresh
air. "Helping others is what people like us do," Edgar said quietly.
Fabian glanced at Gideon. After a few seconds, both brothers hung their heads.
"What's the job?" Fabian asked resignedly.
"You-Know-Who and Anton Windstrum, the treacherous bastard that he is, have taken complete
control over Germany."
Gideon froze. "And so… Dumbledore wants us to…"
"We have to take back Germany," said Edgar, nodding. "Again."
Fabian threw his hands up. "Why is it always Germany?"
Severus used to be sure that he would never again be as miserable as he was in his childhood. The
first nine years of his life had been cold, torturous, with the paradise of Hogwarts always just out of
arm's reach - until suddenly it wasn't, and he could learn to enjoy getting out of his bed for the first
time.
Now, Severus could confidently say that sixth year had been the worst year of his life. He would
rather watch his parents fight a million times before witnessing Lily Evans bite her lip while
looking at James Potter in Potions just once more. He would watch his father raise a hand against
his mother, against him, as many times as it took to never again hear the words, " Did you hear
Evans is gonna live with Potter over the summer?" It seemed ludicrous that the latter hurt him so
much more than the former ever had, unbelievable even, but that was the simple truth of the
matter. This was a pain unlike anything he had felt before.
"No," said Severus disinterestedly. "I did not."
Travers shrugged as he cut into a steak. "Everyone's talking about it."
"Well, I can only hope that everyone may find something more worthwhile to talk about."
After a few seconds, Travers got distracted by another student, and Severus pushed his plate away
and stood from the Slytherin table. He hurried from the Great Hall as fast as he could, wishing for
the first time in his life to be at home.
He bumped into a short Ravenclaw girl as he walked. She dropped her books, and he scowled at
her, perhaps said something derisive or insulting. He barely registered the words coming out of his
mouth, even as those words brought hurt to the girl's face. These sorts of things were becoming
second nature to him, unconscious, brought out without effort. They were a part of who he was
now.
Severus had never considered himself a nasty person. He still didn't. The world was nasty, and he
was just trying to live in it.
While the others all ate breakfast, Marlene sat on a desk in an empty classroom. She wanted a
moment to herself before she got on the train. She also couldn't have attended to the urgent matter
at hand with everyone peering over her shoulder. There was a stack of letters beside her, and she
held the latest one in her hands.
Mar
Are you sure you want to move our wedding up by that much? I'm all for it, don't get me wrong,
but I want to be certain that's what you want. If I marry you today, or marry you in a decade, I'll be
just as thrilled. Whatever you want is what we'll do, alright? You just let me know.
Will
Later, Marlene took great pride in the fact that she didn't think of Sirius Black once as she hopped
off the desk, spread a fresh sheet of parchment over it, and began to write.
Will
Yes, of course I'm sure. We have just over six months - I always thought January weddings were the
cutest!
Perhaps it was a few times, but she expelled him from her mind immediately, and she took great
pride in that much.
Anton Windstrum had been screaming for so long there was no sound coming from his mouth
anymore.
"Crucio!"
His mind was numb. Every time he acclimated to the pain, it only intensified, surpassing any
tolerance, any chance he had of not breaking.
"Crucio!"
He wanted to die. His face was filthy from writhing on the ground, spittle covered his chin, his
tongue was bleeding from the gnashing of his teeth.
Why? Why was this happening? It was the only thought he could hold onto, and he had no answer.
Voldemort had said, "You have served me well, Windstrum. You successfully tricked
Dumbledore, you were the perfect tool."
Anton had smiled, nodded his thanks.
"But you take me for a fool. The Auror, Caradoc Dearborn, joined the ranks of my Death Eaters
under Dumbledore's orders. I learned of this only shortly before his death. Only a select few of
Dumbledore's allies knew Dearborn was spying on us. I understand that you were among those
few. Why, then, was I not?"
"My Lord-"
"You withheld this information from me because of your friendship with the man. No harm came
of it, of course. Before long, when the time came, you killed him. But the fact remains that you
were dishonest to Lord Voldemort."
"My Lord, please-"

"I told you once that you are useful to me only as long as your identity as Blithe remains a secret.
Now that identity is common knowledge - you are a wanted fugitive, your face is in the papers.
You have become a Death Eater of no particular importance, yet one who believes he can get away
with lying to me."
"I never lied-"
Voldemort had raised his wand, and Anton's face had paled. "I will not kill you. You still hold
some value to me. We have taken Germany, and you will preside over it for me while I attend to
more important matters. And when Dumbledore sends his hounds to wage war, they will come to
kill you - and they will find me."
"You're using me as bait."
A cold, sadistic smile spread across the skull like face.
"My Lord-"
"CRUCIO!"
There was darkness. Among the darkness there was nothing, no thought or emotion, no awareness
of anything outside numb oblivion.
Then someone was shaking him.
Anton gasped for air and sat up. The room was dark but still he squinted, his body shaking,
sweating. There was a girl kneeling by him, cradling his neck. She was pretty, with soft brown eyes
and curved lashes. "Can you stand?"
Her accent was German.
Anton tried to speak. His throat was ruined, and a rasping whisper came out of his mouth.
She smiled and put her wand to his neck. "Here."
A warm sensation filled his throat, and there was a feeling like melted butter trickling down his
vocal chords.
He opened his mouth again and she put a finger to his lips. "Not yet," she said. "Nod once if you
can stand."
Anton tensed his legs. The muscles were sore, drained, but he nodded anyway. She put a hand
under his armpit and helped him to his feet. His knees shook. Anton cleared his throat. "Why are
you helping me? Who-" He coughed. Blood splattered on the ground, a few drops leaving red
marks on her shoes. "Who are you?"
"I am Augusta, but you may call me Gus. The Dark Lord has instructed me to assist you while you
run our country."
Anton nodded. She was here to keep an eye on him. He saw it plainly. "Where are we?" he
croaked.
She frowned. "You came here yourself."
Anton blinked, then nodded. His jumbled mind recalled the events of the day, but it was like water
trying to trickle down a stream filled with rocks. "Berlin," he said. "The German Ministry, right?"
"That's correct."
"Remind me, what travel limitations do we still need to put in place?"
"It is impossible to apparate into, out of, or within Germany. Any attempts to use Portkeys to get in
or out of Germany will splinch the body into pieces. The Floo network within the country is still
operational, but no fireplace can be used to floo in or out," she recited.
"And the sky?"
"Broomsticks are fried upon passing the border. We also have squads monitoring the borders
physically. No wizard can enter or leave Germany."
Anton nodded, rubbing his forehead. "But they'll find a way."
She smiled. "We are hoping that they do."
He snorted, looked at his blood on the ground, then back up at her. "Do you know where my wand
is?"
"Of course." She moved to the desk, his wand sitting on the polished wood. He hadn't noticed the
desk. He hadn't even looked around the room. Was this to be his office?
His body ached.
So he'd been given a new task. Bait, war, death. For the greater good, to take the world back from
the Muggles. It seemed like so long ago now, when he'd had his revelation. Muggles were violent,
Muggles were cruel.
His body ached.
Were wizards really so different? What was he fighting for? Giving his life to?
"Here," said Gus. She handed him his wand, and he relished the feeling of power being put back
into his hands.
"Is this my office?"
"Yes," she said. Her smile was very nice to look at. "Is it to your liking?"
"I think we should move the desk," he said quietly.
She looked at the desk, and there was a flash of green light.
Anton walked to the door, heard her body hit the ground. He turned the handle slowly, cracked it
open. Two men stood guard outside. They stood facing the door, and Anton knew they were
guarding his escape rather than his life.
He took a breath and counted to five, then flicked his wand and the door burst off its hinges,
knocking the first man down. He ran out and killed the second man with another flick, then he
stomped on the first man's neck.
While the others all ate breakfast, Remus lay in bed. He wanted desperately to sleep, but found that
he couldn't quite grasp it. A week had passed since the last full moon, yet the effects still lingered.
They always did. Sometimes he would be perfectly fine, and then all at once he would fall into a
sea of fatigue, light-headedness, deadness in all his limbs, and an inconsolable, inexplicable rage.
He always suppressed the rage, of course. Remus was far too reasonable a person to allow simple
mood swings to bring irrational behaviour out of him. It only meant that sometimes he didn't feel
like being around others.
The boys understood this well by now, and they left him to his own devices when they could tell
he needed it. Oftentimes he would have to tell them, of course - they weren't exactly the most
emotionally sensitive blokes in the castle.
This morning was one such time. He felt bad that all his friends were eating together at the end of
their sixth year, but at the same time he really had no patience for it. The anxiety that arose from
being around so many, the pressure on his temples from the noise, those carefree smiles and
relaxed shoulders throughout the Great Hall, devoid of the burden that Remus had been forced to
bear since childhood.
His burden, thrust upon a four year old boy by a werewolf who had recognized the genius in biting
him, but not to take his life - could recognize it was crueller by far to leave the child alive.
His burden, a consequence of his father's career, having made an enemy of one Fenrir Greyback
and cursing Remus to a life of pain and loneliness. His burden, that which had come to define his
life, define his identity, who he felt he was in his core more than anything else.
He didn't resent his father for it, of course. Remus wasn't a resentful person. But all the negative
emotion had to be directed somewhere, flow somewhere and towards someone, and there was only
one person left.
It was wrong to say Remus hated himself, but perhaps correct to say he hated who he was. He
understood well that every person had their own struggles, but there were countless people around
him whose lives he could look at and wish were his own. So sometimes he wished he was someone
else.
A lot of the time, the reason he wanted to be asleep was because it meant he was not awake.
Remus breathed out and sat up. Blinked moistness from his eyes, wiped them lightly with his
sleeve, got out of bed. The latest wave of negativity, the frothing dark thoughts, had suddenly and
finally crashed, disappeared completely, and he couldn't understand why he'd been so sad. He
never had an explanation for when it left, it simply came and went as it pleased, like a stray dog.
He knew it would be back.
For now, however, he could at least eat scrambled eggs and be with friends.
'Make love, not war', was the chant, but Taureau Barkley didn't join in. These people were being
referred to by the Muggles as hippies, and he wanted nothing to do with them. Without war, people
like Taureau would be out of a job.
Although these days, he really was out of a job, even if it was by his own choice. Tired of people,
tired of the world, he had found refuge in the United States, which had always treated him well in
the past. He had found himself a home now, a cottage in the countryside of Louisiana - it was the
only thing he could think to do after he buried Emmett Falwey, the only love he'd ever known.
The cottage was in a nice spot, far from the city, though when he had to go out for supplies he liked
to stop and watch the madness of Muggles. Today Taureau wore a black suit with gold pinstripes.
He'd left his aviator sunglasses at home, and had to cover his eyes with his hand against the glare
of the sun, a sensation he wasn't accustomed to.
Some of the protesters gave him a second look as they marched past. His dark skin and superior,
impeccable dress sense made him stand out in any crowd, but people in the States seemed to take
special exception to it. More than a few nasty Muggles would make all sorts of nasty comments,
amusingly simple and hair-brained. Those occasions made him miss the British - they were at least
nasty with some class.
It fascinated Taureau to observe Muggles. He had never had a particular problem with them, but
nor did he see them as equals - he was far too powerful a wizard for it. This sentiment reminded
him of lectures, rants he'd listened to from the likes of his old employer, the man he wanted to kill
more than anything else in the world. Anton Windstrum, the Muggle hater, who had employed
Taureau for months only to kill his lover before his very eyes.
He should have killed Windstrum when he had the chance - and he had had the chance, multiple
times. He recalled one such time with melancholy - the night he had duelled Windstrum and
Caradoc Dearborn in the home of one Cassus Lucio, what seemed like so long ago now. He had
known when setting out for that house that he would have to duel his employer, who was of course
undercover as one of Dumbledore's allies at the time. He knew he would have to make things look
realistic, and they had. His killing curses had come extremely close to bringing Windstrum's life to
what he now saw as a rather timely end. But the curses had missed. Taureau could have very easily
killed the man had he been properly trying, and the love of his life would still be alive.
Now, however, Taureau had no one. He had no purpose.
There were plenty of jobs available in the States that suited Taureau's more violent skillset, but
since his recent failure to kill Windstrum, he felt he had lost his appetite for the business. He wasn't
sure what to do anymore.
"Power to the people," said a girl walking past, smiling widely at him. Her head was shaved, and
she had a nose ring.
"Power to the people," responded Taureau with detached amusement. He'd assumed she would
move along, but she didn't. She extended a hand, presumably to shake.
He eyed her hand like it was diseased. "I think not. Move along."
But she stayed still, so still Taureau could only assume she was under the influence of some
powerful Muggle drugs. As a high end assassin, he knew just how hard it was to stand that still.
After a few more moments of staring, Taureau rolled his eyes, and with a grimace he reached out
and-
She dropped a torn piece of parchment in his hand.
Taureau frowned, squinted at the writing on the parchment.
Mr Barkley
I understand that you are a certified expert in tracking down one Anton Windstrum, and have a
vested interest in seeing to his demise. I will be in contact. Have a bag packed.
A. Dumbledore
Taureau looked up. The girl had disappeared into the crowd.
Caradoc shook his head. "No."
"I am sorry, my friend." Anton saw the betrayal fill his closest friend's eyes moments before they lit
up with green light, watched Caradoc topple, lifeless, hit the ground-
Anton sat bolt upright, sweating. The eyes of Caradoc Dearborn were burned into the back of his
mind. When he blinked he saw them.
The room was dark. He had broken into one of the first Muggle homes he had found, drawn all the
curtains in the living room, and fallen asleep on the couch. It couldn't be past midday yet. He
couldn't have been sleeping for more than an hour.
So why had he woken up?
Anton listened, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He could make out the outlines of chairs, tables,
some curved shapes here and there, but everything was still. There was no threat. He relaxed.
One of the shapes moved.
Anton rolled off the couch as green light lit the room up, and he saw a dozen masked Death Eaters
packed into the place. He pulled his wand from his pocket, levitated one of the tables over him as
more green light flashed, and he heard cracking and sizzling, each sound accompanied by another
flash of light.
He cast a disillusionment charm over himself, crawled out from under the table and hurried on his
hands and knees. When the table shattered under the onslaught he heard the Death Eaters curse,
and one of them cried, "Lumos!"
The room was lit up with white light, and Anton crawled faster, hoping they wouldn't see his
outline, praying-
He bumped into a table. A vase fell. Smashed.
Anton pushed himself up to his feet and sprinted as killing curses came careening past his body,
hitting the walls around him and leaving black, smoking marks. He ran through a corridor, came to
a kitchen with blinding sunlight streaming in. Without stopping he leaped onto the counter and
dove through the window. Chunks of shattered glass rained upon him as he hit the grass outside
and rolled. It occurred to him as he got to his feet, wincing, limping, that he had only himself to
place the blame of his current predicament on, for putting a bloody anti-apparition jinx over the
entire country in the first place.
He looked around. The street was busy, and he raised an arm when he saw a taxi approach. The
driver squinted as he drew near, taking in Anton's appearance. Behind him Anton heard the front
door of the house open, and he hurried into the car, not caring what the driver made of the
situation.
The driver looked at him with raised brows. "Wohin?"
"Fahren," said Anton, eyeing the masked figures rushing out of the house, wands raised. "Just
drive!"
The driver glanced at the figures and the car shot off a moment later. Evidently, he had deduced
they weren't very friendly company.
Anton leaned his head back against the seat and breathed out. His shirt was riddled with cuts. His
face stung, and he was sure he was bleeding.
It was a few minutes into the drive when an excruciating pain lanced up Anton's arm. He screwed
his eyes shut and yelled, and the driver swerved the car for a moment, glanced at him concernedly.
Anton pulled his sleeve up. The Dark Mark was pulsing on his arm, like a snake was really living
on the scarred flesh. He told the driver to keep going, and pulled his sleeve back down.
Outside, he started noticing cloaked figures on the street. All their eyes were on the car. They were
left behind of course, as they too couldn't apparate, but before long Anton would spot more cloaked
figures on the streets ahead, and his arm would pulse again, and they would look around, right at
the car. Berlin was too crowded with Death Eaters - and somehow, they were using his Dark Mark
to track him.
He glanced sideways at the driver, who was clueless to it all. The poor man didn't realize that he
likely had very little time left to live. Before long, they would be caught.
Anton's mind raced as he looked ahead, eyes scanning every face, trying to spot Death Eaters
before his arm pulsed next.
Was there any chance of him not dying today?
Peter hurried through the corridor, grinning maniacally, almost skipping along. In his arms he
carried a box of his mother's homemade Cauldron Cakes, having arrived by owl that morning. She
must have sent it days ago, making Peter feel doubly lucky that it had come before he was on the
train. This way, he had it all to himself.
It was unfortunate that he wouldn't be with everyone for breakfast, but, as he looked down at the
box with a giddy expression, his stomach rumbling as he caught a whiff of the cakes, he decided it
was worth it.
Peter slowed as he reached a corridor lined with empty classrooms. He was panting a little, and he
could hear James and Sirius in his ear telling him that he didn't really need these cakes, did he? He
shrugged their voices away. Peter could not hold himself to the high standards of his friends - he
simply wasn't as good as them.
He shouldered open a classroom door, opened the lid of the box, and closed his eyes as the cakes'
delicious scents began to tickle his nostrils.
"Oh!"
His eyes opened wide, and he hid the box behind his back.
"Peter." It was Marlene. She was sitting on a desk, holding a stack of parchment. Her eyes and
cheeks were wet, and she wiped them hastily. "Hi!"
Peter turned on his heel and walked back.
"No, no, you don't need to go," she called.

He paused, and looked at her uncomfortably. "I don't want to interrupt you."
"Nonsense," she said, laughing and waving a hand. She hopped off the desk and sniffed. It was a
bubbly sniff, and Peter almost lost his appetite. "Have you had breakfast?"
"No."
"Perfect! Let's go grab some."
He should have said yes. "It will have finished by now."
"Nonsense, we should still have another fifteen or so minutes to scoff something down! What do
you say?"
Peter wrinkled his nose, trying not to curse. He scuffed his shoes against the ground. "Well…
alright."
"Alright!" Marlene smiled brightly and took his arm, marched him from the room. He held the box
against his side with his other arm. "What's that you've got there?"
"Books."
"Were you coming here to read them?"
"Yes."
"Aw." She looked at him proudly. Peter found that kind of patronising. "Good for you, Pete."
"Thanks."
She was quiet for a short while then, and they walked through corridors and down the stairs in a
stifled silence. Eventually she looked sideways at him, with an expression indicating that she was
chewing on her words. "Back there, I wasn't crying."
"No," said Peter quickly. "No, I know you weren't."
"Okay."
Peter nodded, hoping she'd stay quiet now. He was sure this was the longest he'd ever been alone
with Marlene.
"I'm getting married after Christmas," she blurted.
Peter grimaced. "You… what?"
"I've decided to push up my wedding. You know I'm engaged, right? To Will Ärger. He's great. I
just didn't see the point in waiting, you know?"
"Sure," said Peter carefully. He really wished he'd chosen a different classroom. He cursed his
approachable features and subdued nature - he was simply too good a confidante. "And…" He
hesitated, wondering if it might be better to simply leave it. "And you haven't factored Sirius into
your considerations at all?"
Her expression darkened. "Why would I?"
"I have no clue," said Peter immediately. "I-" He laughed. "I haven't the slightest clue."
"But don't tell him."
"I won't."
"Good."
They descended the stairs to the first floor, the Great Hall almost in sight.
"I can't stop you from telling him, obviously," Marlene added. "If you do tell him, I can't be mad."
"I won't."
"You can, if you want."
"Well, I won't."
"Good," she said after a moment, nodding. Then, "But if you do tell him though, make sure you
mention that I didn't even, how did you say it? Factor him into my considerations."
"Not to worry," said Peter. "I won't tell him."
She hesitated again, then nodded. "Good."
They reached the Great Hall, and Peter came to a stop. "Hey, I think I dropped a, um, a book back
there. I'll go run up and get it, alright?"
"Okay," she said, offering a smile as they parted. He turned and started running back up the stairs.
"Peter," Marlene called. He looked down at her. "Remember, it's just between us, okay?"
"Okay," he called back.
"Unless you really have to tell someone, in which case I can't fault you."
"Okay," he yelled, as he continued running up the stairs. He reached the second floor and wiped
his brow, then looked at the box in his hands. He opened the lid a crack, peered inside at the
glistening cakes. The smells, oh, the smells. Bugger it all, he'd just eat it all right here in the
corridor. He opened the lid all the way-
Sniffle.
Peter looked around. In the corridor with him, sitting on the floor and leaning against a wall, was a
Ravenclaw girl, no older than third year. Her head was in her hands, her shoulders heaving.
Peter looked from the box, the cakes and the icing, to the crying little girl. Back to the box. Then
the girl. He knew exactly what his friends would do.
He threw his head back and groaned, then shuffled towards her, gently prodded her shoulder. "You
alright?"
She looked up, her face red and messy. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and shook her head
slightly. "Severus Snape called me a- a filthy little mudblood."
"Oh." Peter waved a hand. "He does that from time to time."
Her little features screwed, and she put her head back in her hands, shoulders working up and down
again.
Peter looked up at the ceiling and scrunched his nose, sighing. Then he put a hand to the wall and
lowered himself to the floor, sinking like a stone through mud. When his bum was on the ground,
he leaned against the wall, huffed. The two sat side by side for a few minutes. When her sobs
subsided a little, he spoke softly. "What's your name?"
She looked up again, sniffing. "Lizzy."
"Lizzy," he said. "Do you know why Snape called you that?"
"Because I'm a- a Muggle-born," she hiccuped.
"No," said Peter. "Snape doesn't know the blood purity of every single student in the castle. People
like Snape only use hurtful slurs like that because they know that this," he gestured widely at her,
"is what they're rewarded with. People like Snape get kicks from seeing their actions hurt others.
It's sick."
She tilted her head. "What makes them different from everyone else?"
Peter hesitated. "I'll be honest, I don't know. Maybe all of us are like that. Deep down, maybe. At
least partly."
"I can maybe think of times where I said something to hurt someone," the girl offered.
"I think we all have," said Peter, feeling relieved. "Some people are just weak."
"You think I'm weak?"
"Not the vicitms, Lizzy. The people who say it."
"Oh."
"With people like Snape, there's a large part of themselves that they hate. It's only natural that
nastiness follows."
"So what stops us from being like Snape?"
Peter bit his lip, looking at the ground. "The people around us, I think. They make us better. Or
they can make us worse, I guess. Things like the way we're raised, the friends we have, they all
influence our choices."
"And our choices define who we are."
Peter glanced at her quickly. "Yeah, they do."
"Dumbledore said so in his speech last night,"
"Oh." Peter relaxed, assured that Lizzy didn't already have more emotional maturity than him.
"Right."
Lizzy sniffled again. "How many more people like Snape do you think will call me that again?"
"Many," said Peter without thinking.
Her eyes closed, and she seemed to be struggling to control her breath.
"Here," Peter said quickly. Not hesitating, he opened his box and offered it to her.
The iced Cauldron Cakes gleamed out of the box, winking in the lamplight. He knew exactly when
the smell reached her nose, for she opened her eyes and looked at them with hunger on her face.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Of course," he said. Doubt was quickly seeping in, and he hoped she'd take one before he changed
his mind and closed the box. They were his, after all.
Her stomach rumbled and she colored quickly. "I haven't had breakfast," she explained. Carefully,
she picked up one Cauldron Cake and bit into it. Peter watched carefully as she closed her eyes and
bliss crossed her face. Within seconds she finished the whole thing. "That was so good! Oh my
goodness!"
Peter smiled and closed the lid. "I'm glad you-"
Her stomach rumbled again, and her face grew the darkest shade of red Peter had seen on a person's
features. She stood quickly. "I should go to breakfast."
"It will be over by now," said Peter. His voice grew dead, and he looked at his box mournfully.
"There's no point."
"Oh," she said.
He knew what he had to do. He was tempted to open the box, just for one last look at them, but that
would be too painful. He held the box up and looked away. "Take it," he said.
"No, I couldn't-"
"Take the box, Lizzy, you're hungry."
"Th-thank you so much!" After a moment, the box left his hands, but he didn't see it. "Really,
thank-"
"Make sure your bags are packed," Peter mumbled. "The train will be boarding soon."
She thanked him profusely again, and he offered a simple nod. Then she was off down the
corridor, taking the delicious scent of those Cauldron Cakes with her.
Her day had been made, he was sure. His own stomach rumbled, and he leaned his head back
against the wall again. Making the right choice was a pain in the arse.
"Will you write me over break?" the girl asked.
Sirius didn't even know her name. He did up his belt buckle in the darkness of the broom closet,
and didn't respond.
"Sirius?"
"Where's my shirt?" he asked quietly.
She rummaged on the ground for a moment and came back up with the loose fabric in hand. "Here.
You didn't answer my question."
He took his shirt from her and slipped it on, started buttoning it. "What question?"
"I asked if you'll write to me over summer break."
Something was scratching his neck. He reached behind him, found her bra hanging from a mop
handle. He handed it to her and opened the broom closet door. "No."
He stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him, then set off. Looking out the
windows at the sun, he reckoned he'd wasted about half an hour with the girl. She'd fulfilled him
physically, there was no doubt about that. But after achieving a brief euphoria, he had quickly
grown disgusted with himself. That was no euphoria. It was a cheap thrill. A poor imitation of what
sex was really supposed to feel like. Making love only provided him true ecstasy when being made
to someone he loved. And he'd lost that.
A rapping on the nearest window distracted him from the bitter musings he'd grown overly
familiar with recently. It was an owl, one of the school ones. He opened the window and let the
bird flutter in and perch on his arm. He took a letter off its leg. The handwriting was eerily similar
to his own, and he recognised it instantly.
Uncle Alphard passed in his sleep last night. The will reading is tomorrow, but Mum's been told
that you're the only one he mentions by name.
Reg
The owl swooped back out the window. After a few seconds, Sirius crumpled the letter in his fist.
Then he stuck his fist outside and let go, watched the balled up letter plummet down the side of the
castle. He turned from the window before it hit the ground.
The only family member with any positive meaning in his life had died. Sirius had known it was
coming for some time, but that didn't take away from the sting. He wanted to curl into a ball, right
in the middle of the corridor. But by now, Sirius was more than accustomed to not getting what he
wanted.
He stalked through the corridors, furious at the world, furious at himself, at every little thing he
could find a way to pin blame on. At the end of one corridor he saw a pudgy boy sitting on the
floor and looking at the ceiling.
"Up you get, Pete," Sirius called. "We have a train to catch."
Peter groaned from the floor and started pushing himself up. "Marlene's set her wedding for
January."
Sirius glowered as he helped Peter up, and they started walking together. "Bloody brilliant."
Anton hurried through yet another Muggle home, wondering how many he would have broken into
by the end of the day. He came out of a corridor, into the living room. Anton stepped towards the
fireplace, and after pulling a brown bag filled with green powder from his pocket, he paused.
Pulse.
A searing pain in his arm, and he almost dropped the bag. The Dark Mark felt like it was writhing
about on his arm. He didn't have much time. They were coming.
He lit the fire with his wand. Licked his lips. He had Floo'd a handful of times today already. Every
time, he found peace for all of ten minutes before his arm would pulse again, the Death Eaters
swarmed in again, and he would have to run again. As usual, it was his own fault for limiting the
Floo network to only within this blasted country. There was no real escape. Not unless…
Anton turned, looked back towards the front door. Nothing yet. He closed his eyes, took a breath.
-betrayal filled Caradoc's eyes moments before green light, he toppled, lifeless, hit the ground-
Anton opened his eyes and placed the bag of Floo powder on the mantle above the fireplace. There
was only one way to survive.
He held his left arm out, pulled the sleeve up past his bicep. The Dark Mark leered up at him, ugly,
grotesque. He conjured a short piece of rope and tied it around his forearm, an inch below the
elbow. Then he conjured a soft rubber ball, opened his mouth wide, and fit it in place between his
tongue and his teeth. Finally he held his wand to his forearm, just before the point where the Dark
Mark started. A nonverbal incantation, and a small white light glowed from the tip of his wand. He
could feel the heat against the hairs on his arm. It was scorching, searing.
The door burst open, and he heard shouts, saw lights flash in the corridor.
He took a long, deep breath.
In one motion he swiped sharply, through flesh and bone, and Anton screamed as the limb was cut
clean off. The smell of burned meat filled the air and his severed hand hit the ground, but Anton
didn't notice. He stumbled, almost fell to his knees. He was biting down so hard the rubber ball
was splitting in his mouth. Through teary eyes he could make out masked figures coming out of the
corridor.
He managed to force himself to think. He reached for the bag on the mantle, threw the Floo
powder into the fireplace and started falling into the flames just as the Death Eaters waved their
wands.
Green engulfed him on all sides.
The Hogwarts Express chugged past meadows and fields, making steady progress back to London.
James was still glaring at everyone in the compartment. "I can't believe," he started again, "that all
of you ditched breakfast and left me with Frank and Alice."
"Oi," said Alice reproachfully, her head on her boyfriend's shoulder.
"You're both great," James said impatiently, "but I had to watch you two cuddle the whole time I
ate!"
"I was there," Marlene pointed out.
"Yeah," James snorted, "after I finished."
"I was still there."
"I came eventually, too," said Remus.
"Too late," James grumbled.
"I just wasn't hungry," said Lily brightly.

James scowled at her, but it quickly turned into a grudging grin. He couldn't help it, he was too
excited. James still couldn't believe he was going to spend the entire summer living with Lily
Evans. What in the world would the James of years past make of that?
He would faint, most likely.
The rest of the group had received the news with equal shock. Although that had quickly been
followed by shrugs, and different iterations of, "Yeah, that makes sense."
Regardless, it was looking like quite possibly the greatest summer of James' life. Just Sirius, Lily,
and himself. His best friend and the love of his life. What more could he ask for?
Sirius nudged him then, and tilted his head slightly towards the compartment door. Without pause,
James nodded, and told the compartment that the two of them were off to fetch some sweets from
the trolley lady to bring back for them all. After taking all their orders, the boys stepped outside
and slid the compartment door shut behind them. They started walking down the aisle, skirting
past other students between compartments.
"What's up?" James asked.
Sirius stopped walking, and James stopped with him. "My Uncle Al finally kicked it."
"Padfoot…" James was speechless. He stared at his friend, unsure how much more the boy could
lose. He pulled Sirius in, hugged him, as tightly as he remembered his mother and father's hugs. As
far as family went, James realized he was the closest thing left.
"I'm alright," Sirius said gruffly, clapping James' back.
James didn't let go. "No you're not."
"No." Sirius' voice cracked. "But I will be."
James pulled away then, but kept a hand on his shoulder. "How did it happen?"
"In his sleep. The will reading is tomorrow, and from the sounds of it he didn't leave anything for
anyone else in the family."
James' eyebrows rose high. "That could be a ridiculous amount of money."
"Yeah." Sirius' voice had settled. "Depending on how it goes tomorrow, I might go out and find my
own place. My own money, and home. I think it will be good for me."
James wrinkled his nose.
"I know how you feel about that," Sirius added, laughing a little. "But I'm doing it."
James sighed, and gave his friend a sad smile. "I think it's for the best too. And you know you
always have a home with me, should you ever get bored."
"I know," he said. James nodded, clapped Sirius on the shoulder. Then Sirius offered a sly smile.
"You know, this means that it'll just be you and Evans. For the whole summer."
James froze. "Oh. Merlin's beard, Evans is going to think I planned this."
At King's Cross Station, each student met with their families, and off they went.
For the first time, Lily had no one to meet. No Mum or Dad. Not even Petunia and Vernon, though
that was no fault of theirs. She wasn't going to live with them.
She turned, as Alice, Frank, Marlene, Peter, and Remus all went their own ways, to look at James.
He, too, was looking around the station, and the unnerved look on his face told her she had made
the correct choice. They were in the very same boat, and they deserved to have each other.
"Straight to yours, then?" she asked, holding her suitcase aloft.
He nodded, eyes still scanning each face around the station, looking for people they both knew
weren't there. Sirius appeared on his other side, a portion of James' uneasiness on his own face.
He nudged James and winked at Lily. "I'll see you guys there."
James nodded, Lily smiled, and with a pop, Sirius disapparated. Lily turned to James then. He
didn't seem sure what to do. She held out a hand to him, getting his attention. He gazed at her hand,
looking lost. "Shall we?" she asked.
His eyes flicked up to her face, and the lost expression was replaced by something that made Lily's
heart warm. Admiration? Reverence? Even… love? She would never get over the way he looked at
her.
"We shall," he said, taking her hand.
There was one last moment of looking around. No one else at the station was there for them. They
had only each other in that moment.
Then they spun, felt the world press in on them as their bodies were squeezed through space,
distorted, contorted, and suddenly it stopped.
Pop.
War, Act I: Help
Part One - Across the Stars
Two Weeks Ago
"So this is my room?" Lily asked.
"Yep." James gestured vaguely around the place. "Home sweet home."
Lily nodded, set her suitcase on the bed. The curtains were drawn and it was dark. "So what now?"
James shrugged. "The House-elves are cooking dinner. It'll be ready in a couple hours. Until then,
freak out… I guess."
She nodded. "Okay."
The two stood awkwardly, watching each other. This was her home now. No adults in the house,
no parents, no teachers. Just her, James, and some House-elves. And Sirius.
When the silence lasted too long, James pointed in the general direction of the door. "So I'll just…
leave you to it, then."
"Cool," said Lily, nodding.
"Cool."
When the door was closed behind him, Lily bit her lip and sat lightly on the bed. Her bed.
"God," she muttered. "How is this supposed to work?"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Present Day
Lily smacked James on the head as she walked through the lounge. "Get off your arse and help me
set the table."
"But Evans," he moaned, throwing his head back against his armchair, "it's just us. Who are we
setting the table for?"
"It's good etiquette, Potter. Now I won't ask again."
James got up and followed her to the dining room, moaning all the way.
"Oh, get that sad look off your face. It doesn't work on me."
"But Evans…" When she turned to him impatiently he tried to look as childlike as he could. "I
don't wanna."
Her stern expression warmed a little and she stepped closer to him. "Aw, is little Jamsie tired?"
He nodded, rubbing his eyes. "So tired."
"We can't have that now, can we?" She put a hand on his waist, let it sit there for a few seconds.
James shook his head quickly. "No we can not."
Her hand slid lower, lower. Movement in his pocket. Then she put James' very own wand in his
hands and stepped back. "There you go. You'll get it done much faster by magic. Is that better?"
"But Evans-"
"I want plates and cutlery on that table now."
James stared after her, open-mouthed. He turned to a House-elf walking past. "She's been here two
weeks and it's like she owns the bloody place."
The House-elf barely spared him a glance as it passed. "Thank goodness for Mistress Evans, we
doesn't know what would have happened to Potter Manor without her…"
He frowned. "Oi, what's that mean?"
Once dinner was served, James and Lily ate with gusto. He counted himself incredibly lucky that
his late mother had taught the House-elves all her best recipes. There was never a bad meal to be
had at the manor.
"Mmm," said Lily between spoonfuls of pie, "Did you ask Sirius if he wants to come round for
dinner?"
James grimaced. "I sent an owl, but I didn't hear back. He's not the easiest to contact right now."
Sirius had bought his own place using the money left to him by his late Uncle Alphard. He swung
by to hang out often enough, but James was still concerned. And, over the course of the last two
weeks, Lily had made James' concerns her own concerns. They seemed to share everything these
days. He was grateful for it. He realized he wouldn't have to bear any burden alone - not anymore.
"What are you smiling about?" Lily asked.
James thought for a moment. "When did the House-elves start calling you Mistress?"
She shrugged. "On my second day here."
"Wait, really?"
"It was quite quick, yeah."
James wrinkled his nose. "It took me years to get them to call me Master instead of 'pumpkin', and
'squirt'. My dad ordered them to, you see. Thought it would be funny."
Lily's lips twitched. "That's not funny at all."
"Hmm," James grumbled, stabbing a potato with his fork.
Lily snapped her fingers and pointed. "Pumpkin!"
"Oh, don't start-"
"No, put it on the list, you twat! I knew we were forgetting something. If we leave Diagon Alley
tomorrow without any pumpkin, I'll be fuming."
"Do we have to go out tomorrow? We have so much food already, surely we don't need more."
"I now know that your laziness is stronger than your gluttony," she mused. "Fascinating."
"Evans," he moaned, "we don't even have our Hogwarts letters yet. Why do we need to go?"
"Potter, we are ridiculously low on groceries and you know it. Honestly, I'm sure you'd starve to
death without me."
"I know how to eat."
"Do you know how to cook?"
"Do you?"
Lily paused. "Well, I at least know how to buy groceries so other people can cook! That's better
than you!"
James crossed his arms. "Well, seeing as you're so good at it, you can just buy the groceries
yourself then!"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
They walked down the street, arms linked, her head on his shoulder.
"I'm here because I want to be here," James stressed. "I made the choice."
"Mhmm," she said, nodding slightly. His coat was warm on her cheek. "Oh, look, golden
telescopes."
She wandered over to a stall packed with trinkets and James rolled his eyes, but she noticed him
smiling as he followed her. He pointed a telescope up towards the clouds and peered through the
lens. "They're not very good telescopes, are they?"
"Well, they're golden. You want them to be good and golden?"
"Evans, I could just paint them golden. Why would anyone pay-" he looked at the price tag
"-eighty Galleons? Who's paying that much for this rubbish?"
"Hey," said a skinny man with bad skin standing close, a bag of coins on his belt. "You saying my
'scopes are rubbish?"
James looked at him blankly. "Yes."
"I'm sure they have lots of character," Lily said quickly. "Good luck with your sales today!" She
grabbed her- she grabbed James by the arm and dragged him away. "Let's not get into a scrap with
a telescope salesman, eh?"
"I'm sure he appreciates the feedback," James reasoned.
"We're here for groceries, Potter. We need food, to cook. Lunch, dinner - ringing any bells?"
"You never used to be this sarcastic, you know."
"And I never used to live with you, but here we are. Where-" She stopped, looked about the busy
street. Madame Malkin's, Olivander's, Florean Fortescue's… "Where the bloody hell do wizards go
to buy groceries?"
"Oh!" James' eyes lit up. "Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour!"
"Nope." She grabbed his collar as he made to run off and he gagged for a second before stopping,
then he looked at her with a grimace.
"I'm sorry," he said, adjusting his shirt. "That was very unprofessional of me. What was your
question?"
"Where can we buy our groceries from?"
"Oh," he said, nodding. "I don't know."
"You don't-"
"I never had to know," he said defensively. "You think I ever went shopping for groceries?"
She sighed, closed her eyes. "You are so classically spoiled… Alright, we do this the old-fashioned
way."
"What's the old-fashioned way?"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"The Muggle way," James said flatly, looking around. Aisles, shelves, rows, trolleys, cashiers,
Muggles. He'd taken Muggle Studies for all of two weeks, and so knew the ilk of this place well.
"A supermarket."
"Come on," Lily said. She grabbed his hand, and with her other she picked up a basket. "Pumpkins
are first on the list."
"Evans," he whispered, "don't be alarmed, but… they're watching us."
"Who?" she asked, wide-eyed.
He nodded up to a corner above a shelf, where a black and white image of himself and Lily
shimmered on the surface of a screen. There was something beside the screen, small, with a
flashing light. He looked at Lily, whose eyes were narrowing - her jeans, boots, jumper - then
looked back at the screen. Identical. And his own image on the screen was moving just as he was.
Yes, they were being watched by some hidden enemy. James reached for his wand-
"James," Lily said suddenly, looking like she was trying very hard not to laugh, "that, up there next
to the screen? That's a camera. They capture light and sounds-"
"I know about cameras," he snapped. He did. In passing. "But why are they watching us?"
"For security, Potter. That's what they do."
"Security… and the screen? That's obviously a trellovision-"
"Television."
"Yes. Why is that there?"
"So people know they'll be caught if they steal, Potter."
He watched the screen with narrowed eyes. "A veiled threat, then."
She snorted, dropped some sausages into the basket. "I suppose so. Hey, can you grab some eggs?"
"Eggs…"
"In the eggs section, Potter." She pointed up. There were signs above each aisle, describing the
aisle's contents.
He nodded. "Eggs."
He returned minutes later with the eggs and a little more.
"What's this?" she asked when he put it in the basket.
"Eggs. And a delightful new friend-"
"Potter, that's a pet rock."
"Precisely."
"No, Potter-" she held up the bottom of the box for him to see, "I know, in that adorable Wizard
brain of yours, you think this is alive. It's not. It is a rock that they stuck googly eyes onto. Just a
rock. That's the whole thing, it's trendy and stupid. I don't quite understand it myself."
"Evans…" He looked at it, trying to comprehend a great loss. "Are you saying it's not alive?"
She looked at him for a few seconds. "Oh, for goodness sake." She dropped the box in the basket
and walked on. "A pet bloody rock," she muttered.
James beamed. Then he saw more trinkets on the shelves. "Evans! Oi, Evans!"
She walked on, feigning deafness.
A gray-haired lady tapped her shoulder. "Excuse me, your boyfriend is calling you."
Lily's eyes ballooned. "No, it's not like that-"
"We live together," James called spiritedly from the other end of the aisle. "Our parents are dead."
"Oh," said the lady, looking like she very much wished she'd minded her own business. "I'm
terribly sorry-"
"It's fine," Lily assured her. "We're coping. It's good, living together, helping each other get
through things-"
"It's mutually beneficial," James called.
Passersby scowled at him for his volume.
"Exactly," said Lily. "And we're both happy. We get along with each other now, which is great-"
"You should have seen us last year!" James considered walking closer to the two, but didn't want to
forget about the trinkets on the shelf. "We were fighting all the time!"
"All the time," Lily told the lady, whose polite smile grew more and more strained with every
second. "Though sometimes we got along-"
James snorted. "Hah!"

"But," said Lily, fighting off a smile, "it rarely lasted long. I've learned that we always had the
potential to get along swimmingly, but back then we were different. We both still had a lot of
change to go through. I think-"
"I have a doctor's appoin- er, my car tires-" the lady stuttered, "I need to go."
She hurried away, not looking back. James made eye-contact with Lily across the aisle, and they
both guffawed and started laughing. He walked to her, trinkets forgotten, and flung an arm around
her shoulders, holding her close. "Boring conversation anyway."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
There was a hill, near the manor, that they would go to sometimes when they wanted a change of
scenery. They lay there now, on the grass, looking up at the night sky. It had started as an early
dinner, when swirls of red, yellow, and the last hints of blue still hung above them, but as they
talked, ate, laughed, the hours flew by as quickly as two weeks had. The stars winked down at
them, strewn haphazardly onto a black canvas.
The baskets they had brought, then laden with food, lay to the side, empty. Lily crossed one ankle
over the other, arms behind her head. "I love it here."
James' head moved, so he was looking at her instead of the sky, but he didn't say anything.
"These last two weeks…" They were the best of my life. "I needed them."
"I'm glad." He looked back at the sky. "I think we both did."
She wanted to say more. She wanted him to know how grateful she was; how much he meant to
her. "Potter…"
"Yeah?"
"That rock," she said, sighing, "I saw you pouring water onto it."
"I just think there's a chance-"
"No. It won't grow."
He sighed.
Another twinkle from a particularly bright star. "Do you know about satellites, Potter?"
"The computers in the sky?"
"Um, basically. They say those bright stars, the ones that twinkle, are actually just satellites."
"Oh… That's dumb."
"You think?"
"It's much more fun to think they're stars, I reckon. Pulsing, like a little heartbeat. It makes the sky
feel alive at night."
"Alive, you reckon?"
"Everything feels bigger. Like there's something there, across the stars, just for me. You know?"
"Not really," said Lily honestly.
He laughed. "I guess we all feel something different when we look at the night sky."
"Maybe. Do you look at the night sky a lot?"
A snort. "You have no idea…"
"A yes, then."
"You would know too well how often I'm up after curfew back at Hogwarts," he told her. She
heard the grin in his voice. "In the forest, or traipsing through the corridors. You get to see the
stars, the moon… all the time. My point is, the stars can be anything. Gods, or people. Loved
ones."
Lily could at least resonate with that much. After some time she exhaled lightly. "I do hope you
won't break curfew too much this year, Potter. It's going to feel weird giving you detentions now.
You're one of my friends." She bit her lip. "Best friends."
She felt vulnerable, for a brief moment. She still had trouble even understanding the idea.
James chuckled lightly for a second, though she couldn't guess why. "You've been one of the most
important people in my life for longer than I'd care to tell you, Evans."
She wasn't blushing, she didn't think so at least, but her heart had sped up erratically. When she
caught her breath, Lily sighed happily and moved her hand, searching in the darkness until she
found his. Warm. They stayed out for a little while longer.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"But as the clock struck midnight, her other glass shoe, her horse and carriage, and all the
wonderful things the fairy godmother had given her, disappeared into the night in wisps of smoke,
and Cinderella-" Lily paused, stretched out and yawned. She was wrapped up tightly in her
blankets, lying atop a couch.
James, wrapped up equally tight in his own blankets and lying on the other couch, smiled a little at
the sight of her, how cute she looked in that moment. The fireplace still burned bright, resolutely
and firmly, warming the entire living room. They had moved the couches closer to the fireplace,
and lay there in the warmth and comfort.
"Cinderel-" She yawned again.
It was perfect, James reckoned. Something about seeing her, on his couch, in his home, was so
incredibly perfect. She belonged here, in this house and in his life. Though he still could not
believe it was happening, he also felt like it was the most normal thing in the world. Simply
perfect.
"I'm tired," she mumbled.
"You can finish the story in the morning," he said softly. "I'm sure I know how it ends."
"Hmm? How's that?"
"Just like all the other ones you've told me. Happily ever after."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The Headmaster's office, much too late at night for serious conversations.
"Albus, reconsider."
"My mind is made up, Minerva. We need them."
"They are children-"
"All seventeen. Adults, by law."
"They are not ready for this - I should know, I teach them!"
"They will need to learn eventually, for we both know where their fates will eventually lie. It is
best that they learn the practical things from the best we have. The Prewett brothers, Shacklebolt,
Edgar Bones-"
"This is war, Albus! Why can we not just give them more homework instead?"
"Minerva…" A brief chuckle. "We need the numbers. There is no escaping that fact. Not many
people are eager to join us. Not after what happened to the Potters, and Caradoc, and Sawyer."
"And you would wish that fate upon our students?"
"I wish to train them to avoid that fate. They must learn."
A scoff.
"Regardless, we definitely need the help of one. Remus Lupin. You agree with me on that much."
"Sure-"
"So the principle is sound, you are merely concerned at my asking all eight of them."
No response.
"They are ready, Minerva. And if they are not, then this is precisely what they need."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Frank still could not believe he was not a student anymore. The end of his seventh year had been
surreal, the farewell feast melancholy. No more Newts, no more corridors, no more pranks and
wild breakfasts and Quidditch - no more Hogwarts.
He was an adult now.
Nothing had ever depressed him more.
"Cheer up, Head Boy," said Alice, nudging him. They lay in his bed. He'd gotten his own place a
few days after he'd gotten off the Hogwarts Express for the last time. Alice came over most nights -
it definitely beat him tip-toeing around at her parents' - and they could get up to anything they
wanted.
Be as loud as they wanted.
"You know," he told her, "when you go back to Hogwarts, boredom might just kill me."
"Won't you have your job? Or some sort of task given to you by Dumbledore?"
Frank snorted. "Dumbledore wished me well with whatever direction I choose to take my life after
school, and that's the last I heard from him. That was the night of the feast. If he intends to let me
fight in this war in any way, he hasn't given me a single clue as to how."
The window was open, and an owl swooped right in and landed on their bed before either teen
could blink.
It carried a letter, and when Frank opened it his frown flitted quickly to surprise, before slowly he
grinned and looked at his curious girlfriend.
"Guess who it is?"
Part Two - To War
Everyone already seemed to be gathered in Dumbledore's office by the time Remus got there. Aside
from James, Lily, Sirius, Peter, Frank, Alice, and Marlene, and of course Dumbledore and
McGonagall, there were seven others in the room. He recognized only one of them.
"Him!" Remus looked quickly at Dumbledore. "Professor, this man is a known associate of Death
Eaters! He-"
Dumbledore raised his hand. "Today, and for the foreseeable future, he is an ally. His name is
Taureau Barkley."
The dark skinned man, wearing aviator sunglasses and a bright orange three-piece suit, nodded to
him.
Remus looked around the room. Everyone else seemed just as on edge as he did - James especially.
"Going around," Dumbledore continued, "this is Millicent Bagnold, ex-Auror."
A young looking lady with brown hair and glasses that made her eyes look stern smiled politely at
him.
"Here we have Fabian and Gideon Prewett, ex-Aurors."
"Fabian's the freakishly thin one," said the short one with muscles seeming to bulge out of his t-
shirt.
"Gideon's fat," snapped the tall one with thick eyebrows.
"Fat," exclaimed Gideon. He lifted his shirt up. "Do you see any fat here? No! Rock hard. Here,
Remus, come punch me."
"Pull your shirt down, Gideon," said McGonagall in a tired voice.
Dumbledore pushed his glasses a little further up his nose, and somehow that got everyone's
attention again. "Edgar Bones, former Hit Wizard."
A man with grey hair but a youthful grin nodded to him.
"Next," said Dumbledore, "is Acustus Proudfoot. Ex-Auror."
Proudfoot looked young, perhaps a few years older than Remus. He had the nervous air about him
of a person out of their depth.
"And finally, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He is the equivalent of an Auror with multiple Ministries
overseas, and is currently going through the process of obtaining his license in Britain."
Kingsley was tall, with dark skin and broad shoulders. He wore a suit and tie, tailored beautifully,
but something in the way he wore it told Remus he'd never bothered with one before.
"You will have noticed," said Dumbledore, "that no-one here currently works for the Ministry of
Magic in any official capacity. That is because no one in the Ministry is aware of our mission. Or, I
should say, missions." He looked around them all for a few seconds before continuing. "Germany
has ceded to the full control of Voldemort and Anton Windstrum. All magical means of entering
the country have been disabled, and the German ministry has fallen. We will send three teams into
the country. Kingsley, along with Frank and Alice, will take a small group of negotiators in under
the guise of securing a temporary truce with Voldemort's forces. In reality, you will be looking for
any signs of resistance, any and all German Wizards and Witches who are attempting to combat
Voldemort's ministry, and you will organize them into a singular force, to then wait for our
invasion."
Kingsley glanced at Frank and Alice, looked into their eyes for a good few seconds, before turning
back to Dumbledore and nodding.
"Millicent will take some experts on magical creatures, as well as Sirius, Peter, Marlene, and
Remus, to corral as many magical creatures, recruit as many allies, as they can. Centaurs, giants,
werewolves. We will need them on the day of the invasion."
Sirius and Peter gave Remus quick, knowing glances. Remus saw the same look in Millicent's eyes.
Dumbledore must have already told her. Marlene, however, seemed none the wiser.
"And lastly, the most crucial team. Taureau, Edgar, Acustus, Lily, James, and the Prewett brothers
will invade Germany as their own force. Your goal is to take down Anton Windstrum, and disable
whatever means they are using to block apparition into the country. Once this is accomplished, we
will invade with the full might of the Ministry, as I will then notify our Minister for Magic-"
"Notify me of what, Dumbledore?"
Everyone in the room blinked for a few moments, looking around, until they saw the frowning face
in the fireplace. Harold Minchum, his features emerging from the embers and the wood, looked
around the room sternly before his gaze settled on the headmaster.
"Good morning, Harold," greeted Dumbledore calmly.
"Quite a merry band you've gathered, Dumbledore," said Harold. "School children, warriors, and,"
he spared Taureau a specific glance, "a murderer."
"Minister," said Taureau, nodding to him. His voice was deep.
"Dumbledore, are you putting together a team? Another one? After what happened to Sawyer, the
Potters-"
"This time-"
"No." Remus had never seen someone cut off the headmaster before. Everyone else in the room
stared, but Dumbledore closed his mouth and watched Harold respectfully. "I must forbid it,
Dumbledore. We have no legal grounds upon which to send any task force into Germany - Anton
Windstrum is now the rightful leader of the country, he was born there. As far as the rest of the
world is concerned, the German leadership simply changed hands. We have no right nor business
to interfere. Now obviously, I would love to interfere regardless. Mere months ago, I was one of
the first you summoned for these sorts of half-baked missions. I am well aware that your input,
Dumbledore, carries much more weight than mine ever can. But if I am guessing correctly, what
you are arranging here, an invasion force, is a logistical nightmare. If it goes wrong it will be
political suicide, and all the progress I have made these last months will have been for nothing. I
am sorry, but I cannot permit it. We must wait for them to give us an excuse to invade, and only
then can we do so. Until then, I hope this is the last I hear of this, else we will all find ourselves in
an… uncomfortable situation, if you understand me. Good morning."
After a few seconds, the face disappeared from the fireplace. Everyone looked to the headmaster,
who paused for a few seconds, then sighed sadly. "You all heard our Minister. I am afraid I must
expressly forbid you all from going ahead with your respective missions as planned. I will be very
disappointed if you proceed despite direct orders to stand down. Your actions will be officially
condemned."
The adults nodded swiftly and started leaving the room. Remus frowned in confusion, looked at his
friends, who looked equally stymied. Then Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon
spectacles. Understanding slowly dawned on each of the teens' faces, and they followed the adults
out of the office.
Once they were all out in the corridor, Gideon spoke up, looking giddy with excitement. "It's so
much more fun when we're told not to do it."
Fabian nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. "It would have been such a bore to have permission."
Remus realized then that they were all on board with going ahead with… all of this. As the rest
began discussing logistics, Remus walked quietly. He knew exactly why he'd been called to help,
and it certainly wasn't for his wand work. They were going to recruit magical creatures. He was a
magical creature. Remus wasn't sure exactly how he felt about this. At the very least, he could
finally put his curse to good use.
As they descended the floors of the castle, the group arranged to split up into their respectives
teams to prepare. Once they were walking outside, Edgar Bones nodded and stopped. The rest of
his team stopped with him. "Good luck, all of you."
Kingsley, Frank, and Alice separated from the group, moving towards the large gates. "You too,"
said Kingsley, his voice rich, and powerful.
Millicent gave a nod as she broke away, Remus, Sirius, Peter, and Marlene following. "Be safe."
James winked. "See you lot in Germany."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Lily had been to Heathrow Airport once before, with her family when she was younger. Once she
and James had packed adequately for what could easily be weeks on the road, they locked the
manor up and stood on the front steps, all their things in a charmed backpack James was carrying,
impossibly light and small considering its contents. Lily took his hand, and they turned on the spot.
The airport was crowded, larger than she remembered, and chatter filled the air.
"Can you see them?" she asked James.

"No," he replied as he scanned the crowd. "Not yet."
They found somewhere to sit, staying alert for familiar faces in the crowd. Lily didn't quite trust a
group of wizards to navigate an airport by themselves, and she would certainly prefer not to cause
any sort of international incident before they departed.
"So," said James after a few minutes of watching the crowd, "you excited?"
"Honestly? Yeah. I know war is scary, and we're going to be in a lot of danger, but… I've been
waiting for a chance like this, you know? To do something significant. To help. This war is being
fought for the sake of people like me - I have to do my part."
"Me too," said James. "I've been chomping at the bit for a chance to get amongst all this, properly
amongst it. And this looks like it - this is the big one. We have to help. Dumbledore wouldn't have
resorted to using us if he wasn't desperate. We're not just doing our bit, we're liberating a country."
She nodded, not surprised in the slightest that they were in agreement. "It's certainly an upgrade
from liberating Diagon Alley."
James grinned widely, and when he looked into the distance Lily knew he was recalling the events
of the previous year - for it would soon be a whole a year, as bizarre as that was for Lily to
consider, since the two of them had fought against Voldemort and his Death Eaters in Diagon
Alley.
"Ah, thank goodness the two of you are here." Lily looked around to see the other five members of
their team approaching. Gideon was scratching his head and looking at them frankly. "I haven't the
foggiest what a passport is supposed to look like and where I can get one. Are they important?"
Edgar looked the two teens up and down. "You two are dressed like you're off on a date to a tacky
restaurant."
Both teens wore hooded jumpers, jeans, and trainers.
"How were we supposed to dress?" James protested.
Edgar raised his brows and looked at the others. Taureau Barkley wore a black suit, with a black
vest beneath the jacket, a silk red bow tie, and of course those sunglasses. Edgar had a leather
jacket and faded jeans, with a gold chain around his neck. The Prewett brothers both wore cargo
trousers and brown boots, with Fabian wearing a long trench coat while Gideon simply wore a
sleeveless vest - Lily had a feeling Gideon took every opportunity to showcase his biceps.
"We're dressed for war," said Fabian impressively.
Lily looked at Acustus Proudfoot specifically, lingering behind Gideon's bulky form, and raised
her eyebrows. Proudfoot wore a big fluffy jacket and green fluorescent trainers.
Edgar glanced at Acustus, wrinkled his nose. "Enough chatter, the plane's boarding soon. Let's not
miss it, eh?"
After using confundus charms on the airport officials who asked for passports and tickets, and a
completely unnecessary skirmish between Gideon and a young boy who demanded to sit near the
window, the seven of them were all seated, scattered across the plane. Lily sat next to James, in
between two families.
"This is-" James was glaring down at the seatbelt strap across his waist, jamming the metal tongue
against the buckle repeatedly, "this won't bloody go in, it's just-" the man on the other side of him
glared as James' elbow caught his side. "Blast!"
"Give it here, you oaf." Lily reached across him and clicked the seatbelt in smoothly. She smirked
up at him as she sat back up, and their noses almost touched. "You're adorable."
"Stupid," James said crossly, folding his arms. "Everything about this is stupid."
"How so?" Lily couldn't help but grin just looking at him.
"How are we supposed to fly without magic, Evans? Is this 'aeroplane' going to flap those metal
wings and carry us into the air?"
"It's simple physics, James."
"Yeah? Explain it, then."
Lily hesitated. "Ah…"
James nodded smugly. "That's what I thought. This isn't going to work."
"No, it does," she insisted. "I just don't know how exactly."
"I knew from the start this was a terrible idea. We should have just apparated into Germany."
"We can't." Lily rolled her eyes, exasperated as always at how little attention he paid to detail. "All
magical methods of travelling to Germany have been blocked, remember? We have to get in the
Muggle way."
"The Muggle way is silly," he sniffed. "Supermarkets, aeroplanes, it's all barmy. We're going to be
driving around this runway for hours before anyone realises something's wrong."
"Nothing is wrong, Potter. You saw that other plane take off ten minutes ago."
"There must have been a gust of wind," he said, sticking his nose in the air. "Below the wings,
carried it up."
"Oh, you're impossible."
"No, Evans. Flying with this hunk of metal is impossible. At least without magic." The plane
started crawling forward then, and he snorted, rolling his eyes. Then, in a split-second it sped up,
all the way up, and Lily felt her stomach get left well behind them. She grinned at the sensation,
like it was a rollercoaster. After a few seconds the plane lifted off the ground, and her stomach
plummeted out of her body. Beside her James gasped, clutched her arm tightly, eyes wide.
She looked at him and laughed. "This should be old hat for you, it's just like Quidditch."
"Not-" His face was pale, and his grip tightened. "Not like Quidditch at all."
They climbed further and further into the air, and Lily squinted towards a window, seeing London
shrink beneath them and the clouds approaching quickly.
James was holding his breath, biting his lip sharply. Lily looked at him for a few seconds before
taking his arm in hers and resting her head on his shoulders. She felt him relax, his fists
unclenching. After a few moments he let out a breath, slowly. She entwined their fingers, he rested
his head atop hers, and they stayed like that until they fell asleep.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The first thing Sirius had done at the start of break was purchase a decent sized house, courtesy of
Uncle Alphard. Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a fifteen square meter swimming pool, and two
kitchens. One person. Loneliness weighed down on him, crushing, like being sat on by Hagrid. He
wanted to think it was just the house - all that space to himself was bound to play with his head.
But he would go out, meet with the boys, go for a drink, and still he felt it. It was more than
crushing. No, it was less. There was something missing from him, an emptiness, not just inside but
outside too, like he'd lost a limb. Part of him, of who he was, wasn't there. Not anymore.
He stared at the back of Marlene's head as the seven of them climbed a flight of stairs.
Peter nudged him. "You're staring at her again."
Sirius shook his head clear and looked down. Climbing, one stair at a time.
"The plan is simple," Millicent Bagnold had said, when the team had met up for lunch at the Leaky
Cauldron. "Our objective is to recruit magical creatures to assist our invasion force into Germany
when the day comes. Luckily for us, Life Day is a few days away."
"What's Life Day?" Marlene had asked.
"It's a celebration," Remus said quietly. "Magical creatures from all around the continent gather to
celebrate their differences."
Millicent nodded. "The timing couldn't be better."
"Sounds easy, then," said Sirius. "Where is it?"
Millicent had looked at him obviously.
"Oh," he said. "I assume we don't know that part yet?"
"You are correct. Luckily, we have a lead." Millicent had indicated to the two strangers at the
table. It was a man and a woman. Both were dark haired, with facial features in the realm of
Eastern Europe. "This is Johan and Helena. They were biologists in the Department of Magical
Creatures, before they quit to conduct observational research in the field. That was three years ago,
in the Eugenia Jenkins era. I trust them."
"Thank you," said Helena, nodding. "We are very happy to be working with you."
"Mm," Johan had said. "We have never dreamed of attending a Life Day before!"
"This lead," said Peter, chewing his lip, "what is it?"
"Ah," Johan had said, leaning forward with excitement in his eyes. "Goblins…"
They reached the top of the staircase and Sirius looked up again. They were emerging into a
jewelry store, one story above the London street level. Looking out a window the street was grimy,
but inside the floor and walls were white, blindingly so, no dirt in sight. The store was the size of
the Gryffindor Common Room, and the group of seven spread out to gaze into the glass casings on
the counters, in which gems and metals, trinkets of all sorts, winked out at them.
"Hello," came a cheerful voice. At the back of the room a door had opened quietly, and a man
stepped in and closed it behind him. He wore a tuxedo, and looked young. The man stood behind
the nearest counter and clasped his hands behind his back. "How may I help you?"
"You see," said Johan, leaning forward so no one else in the Leaky Cauldron could overhear,
"we've been tracking this troupe of goblins for some time now-"
"Troupe?" asked Remus.
"Yes, well they are not quite your average group of goblins. They travel a lot, very active. We
believe they are going to make a trade with a local Muggle jeweler for some old artifact."
"Because, of course, they are still obsessed with gold," said Helena. "But where most goblins are
content to hourde and trade their trinkets, the Hobblygook Kobolds are more… what is the word,
Johan?"
"We're just browsing, thanks," said Millicent, smiling at the man.
The man smiled back and nodded, watching them all as they perused his countertops.
Sirius looked at a collection of rings, then moved on to some watches. The ones with Roman
numerals looked classy, he reckoned. Then there were some pendants, necklaces, bracelets, some-
"Wait," said Sirius, frowning at one bracelet in particular. "That symbol… That's the crest of the
House of Black - my family crest!"
Millicent was by his side in an instant, eyes boring into the bracelet. Then she looked at him
urgently. "How valuable?"
"What?"
"How valuable is this bracelet?"
"If it has the house crest on it, it must be ancient." Sirius scratched his jaw and squinted at the
thing. "I reckon it's… well, priceless."
"Shrewd?" Johan offered.
"No," said Helena, wrinkling her nose. "Another word. It starts with-"
"Proactive?"
"No, no. It's more like-"
"Energetic?"
Helena snapped her fingers and her eyes brightened. "Vicious! They are much more vicious!"
"They're not coming to make a trade," murmured Millicent. She whirled around. "They're going to
steal it!"
The door burst off its hinges, the windows shattered, and into the room swarmed dozens of short,
angry, beady-eyed, pointy-eared goblins, carrying knives and daggers and screaming war cries into
the air. They each wore black vests, and as they yelled Sirius caught glimpses of gold teeth in
many of their mouths.
He cursed and tried to pull his wand out in a clumsy, hurried fashion, as around him chaos rattled
the room like an earthquake. Johan and Helena were violently tackled to the ground by the short,
snarling creatures, while Peter wrestled with one on the floor. Remus and Millicent were already
jinxing and stunning as many as they could. Sirius finally got his wand from his pocket, raised it
quickly as a goblin leaped at him, snapping yellow teeth.
"Petrificus Totalus," yelled Marlene.
The goblin stiffened in mid-air and flopped onto the ground. More goblins reared up, still pouring
into the room, and Sirius and Marlene made their way to each other until they stood back to back,
firing hexes and jinxes at anything that came near. They soon carved a circle around themselves,
and had some breathing room.
"And here I thought this would be boring," Sirius panted.
Marlene snorted between breaths. "Wishful thinking."
"Yeah." He grimaced and kicked one in the head that got too close. "Blimey, that one almost
looked like Professor Flitwick."
Marlene coughed and then giggled loudly. Another goblin leaped at her and she sobered up enough
to stun it.
In all this the man with the tuxedo stood frozen on the spot behind the counter. His jaw was wide
open, eyes flitting around the room so quickly it was like they were rolling around their sockets. If
he was screaming, the sound was lost in the racket of shattering glass, yelling goblins, and the
seven witches and wizards trying as best they could to make sense of the situation.
Then, one more goblin entered the room. In an almost synchronized motion, the other goblins all
stopped moving. Sirius and Marlene were surrounded by the little creatures. The biologists were
knocked out on the floor, Peter was stuck in a headlock by one, and Remus and Millicent each had
a few goblins surrounding them.
All eyes in the room focused on this last goblin. Its eyes, though just as beady as the rest, were
blue. Bright, sharp blue. Its eyebrows were bushy and grey, and wiry grey hair was swept back
atop its head, with a few strands sprouting from its ears. Its expression was surprisingly neutral.
Every goblin Sirius had known had a resting face that could only be described as hostile, yet this
one radiated an energy of calm like no other creature he'd encountered. It took a look around the
room, at every face, and disregarded the seven witches and wizards completely, instead walking
towards the man in the tuxedo.
The man actually seemed to recognize the goblin. "Y-You! You said you would come alone, with
the money. Gold - you talked about your G-Galleons, that they were pure gold! Them-" he pointed
to Sirius and the others, "-they're those magic people, aren't they?"
"You need not concern yourself with such things," said the goblin. Its voice was deep, grumbling,
like the earth's plates shifting against each other. "Your life shall soon be complete, and the bangle
of Grondle the Unseemly will be liberated."
"If I may interject," said Millicent, "when you say his life is complete, I hope that doesn't mean
you plan to kill him?"
The goblin turned to look at her. Its eyes shone. "Kill," it spat. "A nonsense word. Live long
enough, and you will see the flow of life into death and back again so seamlessly, so unfailingly,
that one can never presume to point to a beginning or end. The life of this Muggle is complete, and
we shall send him on to continue his journey."
"I'm sorry." She turned her wand onto him. "I can't let you do that."
The goblins all hissed, the ones surrounding her making to pounce, but this one shook its head
slightly, barely noticeably, and they all settled down. "Who are you?" it asked. "What is your
business here?"
"I am Millicent Bagnold. I'm here to recover this bangle."
Sirius looked at her, frowning, but said nothing.
"I am Cergg the Purified, brother of Urg the Unclean," said the goblin. "I can assure you that you
shall recover nothing. You have neither the ability nor the claim."
"I beg to differ." Millicent gestured to Sirius. "That bangle belongs to the House of Black. This boy
is the heir apparent to House Black, and it is rightfully his."
The makings of anger rose on the goblin's face. An old anger, the sort that one had already made
peace with but still could not fight off. "Humans of each generation use different words to say the
same things. For millennia your people have stolen goblin treasures, hoarded and paraded them as
your own, offering no compensation to my kind other than flimsy excuses and empty promises for
reparations. That bangle was worn by Grondle the Unseemly on the day he liberated a thousand
goblin slaves from the dungeons of your Wizard hero, Merlin."
Millicent's expression didn't even change. "It's been a long time since then."
"And many times have I heard that, too. The first I heard it, fifty years was a long time. Then one
hundred and fifty. Then a thousand. With each excuse, your resolve to avoid resolution only
strengthens."
"I am prepared to make a deal," said Millicent.
"Dear child, it is like you are reading from script. A script written long ago, from a play that I fear
I have seen one too many times."
"You can keep the bangle."
Cergg stopped talking. He watched Millicent for a few seconds first. Then, "And what shall you
demand of me in return?"
"Information."
Sirius' eyes widened, and he slowly smiled. She was good.
"You walk away with the bangle, I wipe this Muggle's memory without you killing him." The
Muggle had watched all this with a slackened face, eyes glazed over. Sirius suspected his brain had
overheated. "In return…" Millicent smiled slightly, and put a hand on her hip, "I want you to tell
me where Life Day is."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Alice had needed no convincing to join Frank and their friends in going to war. She, and she
expected they, too, had been waiting for an opportunity precisely like this - all those hours spent
practicing defensive magic and wandwork, all those tragic stories she'd heard or read in the papers
and been powerless to do anything about, save for clenching her jaw and thinking to herself one
day…
The day had come, and she was more than ready.
In a small room on the lower levels of the Ministry, she, Frank, and Kingsley sat in hard-backed
chairs, waiting. The room was relatively barren, with dim lighting. She studied Kingsley when she
reckoned he wasn't looking. He seemed young, perhaps in his twenties, but he had an air about him
of someone who had seen things. What things, Alice could only guess.
He caught her staring and smiled. "Dumbledore has spoken of the two of you quite fondly. He
holds you both in high regard."
Alice smiled back. "Really?"
"Oh, yes. Frankly, I was skeptical when he told me how heavily we would be involving school
children in our plan-"
"I'm not a school child," Frank interjected. "Sorry, I'm just- I'm not a school child. Anymore."
"Clearly," said Alice, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. She looked back to Kingsley. "Do you
know why Dumbledore is letting us get involved?"
"A few reasons," said Kingsley. "The foremost is that, if we're being perfectly honest, things are
looking desperate for our side. After the deaths of Dearborn, Hughes, the Potters, and Windstrum's
betrayal, it's been understandably difficult to find allies who are both trustworthy and capable, as
well as willing to risk their lives considering that disaster. We're so low on numbers, in fact, that
Dumbledore is willing to involve his own students in war. However, only the best, and most
trusted. Take it as a compliment of the highest order. Dumbledore has more faith in you teenagers
than in most adults. I imagine it helps that he's watched you all grow up, and knows more about
each of you than you might think. Additionally, none of you are affiliated with the Ministry. That
is paramount."
"Why?" Frank asked.
"Well, think about our specific mission, for instance. Shortly, two members of the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement are going to walk in here and leave with us for Germany. The Minister
has agreed to let us take them into the country to begin communications with Windstrum's new
administration, and you've already seen that he is opposed to taking any offensive force into
Germany. So it looks like I am taking along two teenagers on an ostensibly diplomatic mission for
educational purposes, rather than taking two young soldiers with me to help instigate a rebellion in
Germany. Which is what we're doing."
"And will our two diplomats know this?" asked Alice.
"They will not have a clue. So obviously we'll need to hide some things from them."
"Do you know who they are?"
"In passing. They are two of the most boring-" The door opened. "Ah, nice to meet you," greeted
Kingsley with a friendly smile.
In walked two men, both pale faced, one with glasses and one with long hair tied back into a
ponytail.
"You too," said the one with glasses. He looked at Alice and Frank. "I'm Mark."
"Brian," said the other.

The names seemed to slide out of Alice's brain just as quickly as they entered.
"Now that we are all here, we may leave," said Kingsley. "Link up. I shall apparate us near
France's border with Germany." The five of them linked arms, and Kingsley looked around at each
of them. "Now, be on your guard. Remember that we will be in enemy territory. Although, I doubt
we'll be in any immediate danger. If we're lucky we'll sneak in unnoticed. All ready? Excellent.
Three, two, one-"
Pop.
After the discomforting sensation of apparition, Alice opened her eyes and breathed in deeply.
They were in a meadow, green and tranquil. The sky was light blue, and the wind was faint. It was
fresh air, smelling of grass and-
"Drop your wands and get on your knees!"
Alice whirled around, frowning when she saw no one. Then their surroundings blurred. It was like
there was something moving all around them. Her eyes widened.
Disillusionment charms.
From what seemed like thin air, more than a dozen Death Eaters appeared all around them, their
black cloaks and masks clashing with the idyllic greens and blues, like death itself seeping into the
countryside. Alice realized they were surrounded, and looked to Kingsley.
"Do it now!" yelled one of the Death Eaters.
"Do as they say," Kingsley murmured. He dropped his wand. Alice and Frank followed suit.
"We're not here to fight-" Brian started
"Drop it now or I'll kill you where you stand," roared the Death Eater.
"Drop your damn wands," Kingsley hissed.
The two Ministry officials, pale faced and with shaking hands, dropped their wands.
"Now on your knees," the Death Eater doing the talking commanded. "If you make me repeat
myself once more, we won't bother taking you prisoner. We'll just leave your dead bodies right
here."
The five got on their knees.
"You have no legal grounds on which to take us pr-" Mark said.
A bag appeared over his head, and the rest of what he said was soft and muffled.
One by one each of their heads were covered, and everything went dark and quiet for some time.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
James pulled some strands of Lily's hair out of his mouth, cracking his eyes open. The hairs were
coated in spit, and he gingerly placed the red strands back over the top of her head. He glanced at
the end of their row and saw Fabian gesturing to him.
"Alright, mate?" James whispered past a few other passengers.

"Yeah, not bad," said Fabian. "Slight change of plans, James. We're jumping off." He made to turn
back.
"Wait," James called, frowning. "What do you mean?"
Lily stirred beside him and frowned between the two.
Fabian glanced at the Muggles between them, all bearing the recognizable expressions of listening
in but trying not to look like they were listening in, and he shrugged before calling back, "Death
Eaters spotted us back in London. They'll be waiting for us at the airport, so we're jumping off
here."
The Muggles looked startled, but no more so than James and Lily.
"Fabian," Lily snapped, looking appalled, "we are not jumping off the bloody plane."
He made a sympathetic face. "I understand your frustration-"
"It's not happening," James said flatly.
"Plan's already in motion."
"Well, stop it!"
"Can't. We've already knocked out the pilot."
Now the Muggles had heard enough, and a frowning man with a bushy mustache stood up.
"Cover your noses," Fabian said to the two teens, before he pulled his shirt over his nose and
flicked his wand.
James and Lily had barely a second to follow his instruction, covering their faces with their sleeves,
before the Muggle man dropped back into his seat. James frowned, then looked around. Everyone
in the aisle, it seemed everyone else on the plane, had their eyes closed. Fast asleep.
Fabian pulled his shirt back down. "You'll be good now, then. It's only active for a second, and it
has to go right up your noses. Well? Come on then, up you get. We're still moving hundreds of
kilometers an hour right now."
"What was that spell?" Lily asked, as she and James stood and shuffled down their row to him.
"Nifty, eh? It can knock you out in a heartbeat if you let the gas up your nose. Dissipates after a
few seconds though, all the nitrogen in the air."
James grabbed their bag off the rack above them, and they followed Fabian up the aisle to the
cockpit, where the other five members of their team stood around the two unconscious Muggle
pilots.
"Nice work," Lily said dryly.
"Thanks," said Gideon, looking quite pleased with himself.
"So what now?" asked James.
"Now we jump," said Edgar, tapping his wand against the dashboard full of buttons. Outside James
could only make out the silky whiteness of the clouds. "I've already made all the preparations. The
original plan is scrapped completely, but that's just how it goes, eh? No plan survives first contact
with the enemy."
"Jump," James repeated, ignoring the rest of what he said. "I keep hearing that. Where the fuck will
we land?"
"We are currently flying over Belgium," said Taureau Barkley. Everyone looked at him. Each time
he spoke, James' hairs stood on end. Even on the plane he still had those bloody shades on.
"That is correct," said Edgar. "When we jump, based on our current trajectory, we'll land on the
coast of Belgium."
"I have a suggestion," said Lily in a voice one might use when talking to a child, or a very stupid
person. "Why don't we jump out of the plane when we're flying over bloody Germany?"
"Windstrum's got them monitoring German airspace. Same reason we can't fly in on brooms."
"Well how are we going to land?" James asked exasperatedly. "Without brooms we'll be stains on
the ground."
"Cushioning charm," piped up Acustus, giving James an obvious look.
"Keep up, Potter, even Proudfoot knew that one," said Gideon, clapping Acustus on the back and
making the young man wince.
"I like that they're asking questions, though," said Fabian. "I think it's important that the youth of
today hold our generation accountable."
"We're wasting time," said Taureau.
"That's what we do here, on the good side," said Gideon, grinning at the man. "Fight the Death
Eaters, talk some rubbish, jump out a plane, talk some rubbish."
"Character building is what it is," said Fabian. "Barkley, say your kid was ugly, yeah? I mean, well
ugly. Would you ever tell them?"
"We are wasting time," Edgar admitted.
"Or would you lie to their faces about it?"
"I wouldn't tell the truth," said Gideon. "Bad for their self-esteem and that, isn't it?"
"Naw. You see, I think it's unethical to lie," said Fabian. "They need to know they're not a looker.
Otherwise they might get their hopes up."
"Hopes up for what?" Lily asked with interest.
"A good looking partner, of course," said Fabian. "Imagine your ratty little kid chasing after all the
talent their whole life. Oh, I'd feel terrible."
The pilot stirred.
"The spell's wearing off," said Edgar, frowning. "We don't have long."
"Bloody hell, surely we're in Germany by now," said Acustus.

"Still Belgium," Taureau provided.
"It's time to go," said Edgar impatiently, herding them all out of the cockpit and towards the back
of the plane. The Muggles began shifting in their seats, looking ready to wake. The group moved
faster.
They got the door open at the back, and for a brief moment there was the deafening sound of air
whistling past the frame at hundreds of kilometers an hour, and James felt himself being pulled out
towards the open sky.
Edgar waved his wand, and the pressure stopped. It seemed like some sort of shield charm. "Hold
hands," he said. The Prewett brothers made identical expressions of distaste, and he glowered at
them. "Hold hands, or we'll all end up kilometers apart on a Belgian Beach. And I can only make a
cushioning charm so wide - we have to be close together, or we run the risk of one of us getting
flattened."
When the seven of them were all linked up, Edgar stood at the threshold where plane met sky and
looked down. Then he looked back at them. "Probably best to keep your eyes shut, too. Now,
everyone lean in." They did so, and he waved his wand again. A bubble emerged from the tip of
his wand, looking soapy with multiple rainbows running along the surface. It grew and grew until
it was the size of a wrecking ball, enveloping the seven of them. James didn't feel a difference once
the shiny surface expanded past his face. "Keep your heads in this bubble." Edgar's voice sounded
muffled, as though he were speaking underwater. "You can let the rest of your body out, but keep
your head in. The air pressure and oxygen levels up here are different to what we're used to, and the
last thing I need is for one of you passing out while we're falling."
When they all nodded, Edgar turned back to the open sky, seemed to take a breath, then hopped
off, pulling Acustus after him, who pulled James, who pulled Lily, and in that fashion the seven of
them fell off the plane.
Wind snatched James' breath away immediately, leaving his throat ragged and his lungs heaving. It
pulled at his face, streaked into his eyes, biting his features. He couldn't breath. His ears felt like
they would burst at any moment.
James looked for the bubble. It was a few feet in front of him, with Edgar and Acustus' heads
already in it. With his free hand Edgar waved his wand once more and Gideon, at the far end of
their link, came around to meet him so that the seven of them formed a circle. Edgar linked hands
with Gideon, and James was able to thrust his head into the bubble and take a deep gasp for air, his
eyes streaming and throat raw. Had he been screaming? Beside him Lily and Acustus were in
similar conditions. The other four seemed to be relatively unperturbed by the situation.
"Don't look down," Edgar yelled.
James looked down.
Blue and orange far below. An ocean, a beach. He could make out trees, big rocks, even a few
houses in the far off distance. All of this, growing bigger and bigger as they plummeted towards
the ground.
But James wasn't worried now. Flying on a plane? That was terrifying. But falling through the air
was second nature to him at this point. What kind of Quidditch player would he be if it wasn't?
And while Muggle technology meant nothing to him, the safety and reliability of magic had been
ingrained in him from infancy.
Beside him Lily was screaming. She was looking down, her eyes wide and scanning the ground
below frantically. Her breath was shallow between screams, expression fearful. Terrified.
James squeezed her hand tight. She faltered mid-scream and looked at him sharply. He gave her
the smallest of smiles and squeezed again. She closed her mouth and breathed in slowly through
her nose. They held eye contact.
James had no clue how close the ground was, as for what felt like forever and no time at all he held
those beautiful green eyes in his gaze, didn't let them leave for even a moment. She got her breath
under control, and after a few seconds she offered him a shaky smile back.
Together they all kept falling. More and more sky rushed past. Around Lily's face James saw some
of their surroundings. No more clouds. Land, buildings, tree, ground-
They all slowed and stopped in a split-second, and James felt his brain rock in his skull. He grunted
at the change, and then they all dropped half a meter onto course, warm sand.
James groaned, lying still for a moment. He saw the others getting to their feet from the corner of
his eye, and after another moment of stillness, letting the adrenaline seep out of him until his heart
was steady, he stood on shaky feet. Lily was still on the ground, clearly needing another moment.
He put a hand on the crook of her arm, and gently tugged her to a kneel. She looked up and smiled
at him, then stood slowly and took in a deep breath. "I-" She breathed again. "I hated that."
"Hate is bad for your pores," said Gideon cheerily. He, Fabian, Taureau, and Edgar all stood to the
side, tall and calm, as though they'd just gone for a leisurely stroll. Acustus was bent over, hands on
his knees and sucking in deep lungfuls of air.
"Bollocks to my pores," grumbled Lily. "I can't believe you lot just made us do that. We couldn't
have apparated back to England? Found another way in?"
"The longer we wait," said Taureau, "the more difficult our task becomes."
"And the more lives are lost," Edgar added. "Sorry, kids, but there was no other choice."
The word kids made James realize how this mission looked to the others - he and Lily being
fearful and reluctant, while the adults simply got on with the job. These were seasoned fighters -
with the exception of perhaps Acustus. The last thing he wanted to be here was a hindrance.
Lily must have also twigged that it was time for them to step up, for after a moment she nodded
and said, "No, you're right. Sorry, I just wasn't quite prepared."
Fabian smiled reassuringly. "No one's ever really prepared to jump off a plane."
"Unless you're one of those Muggle nutters who do it for fun," said Gideon. "What are they
called?"
"Skydivers," said Lily instantly. "My parents did it once, on holiday. Bloody expensive, but they
seemed to really enjoy it." She was smiling, eyes distant. "My mom had been terrified at the
prospect and my dad made fun of her. On the day though, she had to all but force him to do it. She
told me she'd found him hiding in a bathroom cubicle, pretending he didn't know her." She shook
her head and laughed. "After the jump though they were both thrilled. They even wanted to go
again."
She snapped her gaze back to the group of them and closed her mouth. The others had listened and
now smiled politely, but James caught her eye and she looked at him. For a moment it was just the
two of them on the beach, standing in the sand as light waves rolled back and forth over the shore,
and they gazed into each other's eyes, mesmerized. It was a particular look they were sharing, one
James couldn't possibly share with another - a special look that had started weeks ago, one that
conveyed crushing, mutual loss. This prolonged, almost indulgent gaze had since become
something much more than that. For James it was love. He could only guess what it was for her.
"Alright," said Edgar finally, snapping everyone's attention back to him. "We need a new way into
Germany."
"We walk?" Acustus suggested.
"It would take weeks," said Taureau.
"And the border is being monitored," said Fabian.
"I have a few ideas," said Edgar, scratching his head. "For now we should camp here for the night,
and I'll see what can be arranged in the meantime. In the morning we'll have to move swiftly. We
suddenly have a lot of ground to cover."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Millicent had taken Remus aside, back at the Leaky Cauldron, before they'd left for the jeweler's.
"Remus, you understand that our mission is to recruit magical creatures, yes?"
"Yeah." He'd felt apprehension already stirring in his belly.
"Well, I must be frank with you. Our goal is a little more specific than that. We are not seeking out
Life Day to try recruiting giants, or centaurs, or vampires. Dumbledore has already tried, and where
Albus Dumbledore fails I very much doubt we can succeed. We will still try, of course. But our
real objective lies with you."
A nod. "Our whole mission," Remus said dryly, anticipating this, "is to have me approach the
werewolves, try to turn them to our cause as one of them. All the rest is a front to protect my secret
from my friends."
"That is correct. Albus has informed me that Sirius and Peter already know?"
"Yeah, they know."
"I do apologize, but I have also told Johan and Helena. I assure you, they are complete
professionals, not to mention compassionate and-"
"It's fine," he said. "I figured you would."
"Well," she smiled, though looking uncomfortable, "that leaves one last problem. For whatever
reason, Marlene McKinnon is also a part of this team. I haven't a clue why Albus didn't send her
off with Kingsley, or the Prewett brothers."
"Chemistry," said Remus. "I think us students are grouped by chemistry. Kingsley's team is small,
professional, while the Prewett brothers' team is full of fighters. Dumbledore must have looked at
the students at hand and figured these are the best combinations of us for each task."
"Perhaps." Millicent grimaced. "Whatever his reasoning, it leaves me in an uncomfortable position.

For the sake of the mission-"
"You want me to tell Marlene that I'm a werewolf."
She grimaced again. "Yes. Aside from simplifying everything, it is important to have full
transparency within the team so as to-"
"Alright." Remus let out a deep breath. "I'll do it."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Ten Years Ago
A simple knock on the door had flung the Lupin household into chaos. Their last unexpected
visitor in the night had been a mass murderer, forcing them to rush their only child to St Mungo's
and leaving the family scarred, the boy irreversibly cursed.
"He won't take no for an answer," said Mr Lupin darkly, peeking between the blinds.
Mrs Lupin cast charms upon the door desperately. "Leave us," she cried. "We want nothing to do
with you!"
She cast more charms, until her husband held his hand up. "He's gone." Mr Lupin turned to her,
frowning. "He left."
There was a sound from upstairs, and their expressions both grew grim. Immediately they dashed
to the staircase. Mrs Lupin paused only to poke her head into the sitting room, putting on the
calmest expression she could muster as she looked at her boy. "Remus, stay right where you are,
okay? Don't move from that spot, can you do that?"
Remus sat on the floor, a gobstones set in front of him. He'd been watching his parents' frantic
movements for the last few minutes with curiosity, the game temporarily forgotten. "Alright," he
said with a shrug.
She smiled at him once, not a very convincing smile, before hurrying up the stairs.
Remus turned back to the gobstones. It was not the most fun game to play alone, but Remus didn't
have much else of a choice. His parents were often busy. He didn't have any siblings. He could
hardly play gobstones with the Muggle boys from school, or the neighbours, and his parents had
stopped inviting around his magical friends ever since he'd been bitten. They would fear him now,
hate him, if they knew what he was.
So he took the turns of his opponents, played the game like there were four players rather than just
the one. He imagined he had three friends sitting around him, and they all laughed at how odd his
parents were before returning to the game. One of them was cheating, but Remus didn't mind.
He imagined he had three friends who didn't care what he was. Perhaps even just one would do.
"Good evening, Remus." There was a man in the sitting room, standing by an armchair and
watching him play. He was very tall, his robes a deep purple, grand, yet revealing a thin frame. He
had a beard that reached his waist, silver, like his hair, and sharp, bright blue eyes that seemed to
twinkle out at Remus behind a pair of half-moon spectacles, perched upon a crooked nose. "It
seems you are short a few players. Might I join you?"
Remus expected to be afraid, yet he found himself instantly trusting the intruder. The kind smile
and serene demeanor somehow communicated to Remus that no harm could ever befall him around
this man.
Remus nodded. "Sure."
The man came and joined him on the floor, sitting cross legged opposite him in one swift
movement, showing grace and spryness that surprised Remus. "And whose turn is it?"
"Mine," Remus said slowly.
"Splendid. Whenever you are ready, then."
Remus bit his lip and tossed a Gobstone. It glanced against one of the red ones, budging it but only
barely. He winced. "So close!"
"Ah," cried the man, clapping his hands. "A great effort nonetheless."
"Your turn."
The man picked up a blue gobstone, examined it for a moment. "There is a gobstones club at my
school, you know."
Remus stared. "You still go to school?"
His opponent laughed. "Alas, no, that ship, to coin the Muggle phrase, has sailed - although I am a
firm believer of learning being a wonderful pastime for the old and wrinkled. No, I am a
headmaster - Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"You're…" Remus' throat was dry. "You're Albus Dumbledore."
"And you are Remus Lupin. I must confess, I have wanted to meet you for some time now, but
your parents have not taken fondly to the idea."
"Why?"
"They believe my school is ill-equipped to host a student with your disposition."
Remus' face fell. "Oh. My curse."
"Curse," Dumbledore repeated with a quaint expression. "I advise you not to think of it that way,
Remus. Especially not at your age. You may despise me for saying this, especially seeing as I do
not have to bear your burden, but it is up to you to make of your condition what you will. Whether
it is a curse or not is in your own hands."
Remus wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he didn't.
"Regardless, you are correct. Your parents believe that your lycanthropy prevents you from
attending my school. I strongly disagree with this belief. The idea of there being a student
anywhere in the world that Hogwarts cannot cater to saddens me very much. It is a place of infinite
possibility, and in its students it cultivates infinite potential. I was not yet the headmaster when you
were bitten, Remus, and the advice my predecessor gave your parents then was to seek other forms
of education. He was wrong to do so. That is why I have been trying to meet with your parents. It is
why I am here tonight." His eyes flickered over to the entrance of the sitting room, where Remus
realized his parents were standing, watching Dumbledore and himself with equal parts
determination and uncertainty.
But Remus' mind had strayed far from his parents. A thought, having long festered in his mind,
sprang from his mouth unbidden. "What if the other students don't want me there?"
The look Dumbledore gave him wasn't pity, which Remus would have hated. Instead it was pain,
as though Remus' fear of not being accepted at Hogwarts was a wound to the old man's chest.
"Secrecy," he said at last, looking like he hated himself for saying it. "Should you enrol, I think it
would be best when you arrive at Hogwarts in two years to keep your condition a secret. Students
may have difficulty to find compassion without first having understanding, and parents," he
glanced at Mr and Mrs Lupin again, "are known to take drastic measures to ensure the well-being
of their children."
Once more Remus was at a loss for words, as it seemed like the headmaster was speaking in
riddles. Remus opened his mouth without having any specific words to say, and one last insecurity
found its way past his lips. "I won't have any friends there. Someone like me could never-"
"You will," Dumbledore said, so firmly that Remus almost believed him. "I advise secrecy, yes, but
not necessarily to all. It may be important I think to let some trusted few in on your secret, into
your life, regardless of how daunting you might find that task. It is with the help of good friends
that you will be able to carry the weight of your burden throughout your time at school. I implore
you to seek that help, Remus, for it will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Present Day
Their search for Life Day had taken them to Lithuania, per the instructions of Cergg the Purified. It
was a country so small it had no Ministry of Magic, and an almost nonexistent magical population.
It was therefore a hive of activity for magical creatures.
The celebration would supposedly be near the country's border with Poland, in the center of a
forest. Millicent, Johan, Helena, Marlene, Sirius, Peter, and Remus had taken a portkey together to
Vilnius, Poland's capital city, and had spent the whole day trekking southwest from there. As night
began to fall, they'd stopped on the outskirts of the forest and begun to set up camp. Millicent had
packed a charmed tent, seemingly ordinary on the outside and resembling a small house on the
inside, and the group set about pitching it a safe distance from their campfire.
Johan and Helena made the process look quite easy, as they had spent much time camping in the
open over the years, and with simple waves of their wands the poles and fabric flew through the
air, the tent assembling itself smoothly with none of the others needing to lift a finger.
As the finishing touches were put onto the structure, Millicent looked around sharply. The rest of
them followed her gaze, squinting towards the trees and darkness in the distance. "Did you lot hear
that?" Millicent asked.
"Hear what?" asked Peter.
"I heard nothing," said Helena.
"There was definitely something. And it could be dangerous..." Millicent turned back to them,
looking spooked. "Remus, Marlene, go check it out. It was somewhere," she gestured vaguely
behind herself, "that way."
Remus nodded slowly. "Alright."
"Shouldn't we all go?" asked Sirius, frowning. "You said it could be dangerous."
"Nah, they'll be alright," said Millicent brightly, losing her worried expression like it had never
even been there. She nodded to Marlene and Remus. "Off you go, then."
Remus looked hard at Millicent, and she looked back with unassuming eyes and a friendly smile,
the picture of innocence. He marveled at how she managed to be at once both imperceptibly subtle,
and glaringly, painfully obvious.
"Do not go too far," said Johan, looking concerned. "There are many creatures about tonight. Stay
where we can see you."
"Understood," said Marlene, getting to her feet while looking the slightest bit bemused. She patted
Remus' shoulder as he also stood. "C'mon, Lupin. Let's go check out these spooky noises in the
dark."
They began to walk, and as they did Remus knew, without having to look back, that Millicent had
begun telling the rest as soon as he and Marlene had left about the real plan - that they were all
really here to recruit werewolves. He imagined the lot of them would be watching Marlene and
himself keenly while they walked, trying to glean how the conversation was going. He could
almost feel their eyes on his back.
The campfire's reach diminished as they walked, the line of trees beside them capturing the light
while the dark gaps between the trees seemed to suck it in and make it disappear. Remus stopped
walking when he reckoned the two were a good distance from the others.
Marlene stopped too and surveyed him with a raised brow. "Millicent didn't really hear anything,
did she?"
"No."
She looked back towards the campfire. "They're all watching us, you know."
"I figured."
She sighed and turned her attention back to him, crossing her arms. "Out with it, then. There's
something all of you know that I don't."
"It's not-" There was a lump in his throat. "It's not an easy thing to tell."
He must have looked as vulnerable and scared as he felt, because concern crossed her face and she
stepped close to him, a hand on his arm. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, everything's fine. I've just," he sighed, "I have a secret."
"A secret that everyone else knows," she said, brow raising again.
He shook his head. "Not everyone else. Very few, in fact. James, Sirius, Pete, now Millicent,
Johan, Helena… then just the teachers at Hogwarts, a few family members and some Healers."
The concern grew on her face and she squeezed his arm. "Healers?"
"I have a curs- a condition. I'm sick."
Her hand covered her mouth. "Oh, Remus. Is it bad?"
"It's…" He remembered Dumbledore's words, from years ago. "It can be. It depends what I make
of it, I guess."
"Is this," her eyes were widening, "Is this why you miss classes every now and then? Why you
have to go home to 'visit family' so often? Because you're sick?"
He nodded.
"Oh, I'm so sorry Remus, that's terrible! Can it be cured? What, um, if I may ask, what is it that you
have?"
"It can't be cured, no."
"What do you-" she tried again.
"I need you to remain calm." He was looking down now. He didn't want to see her face when he
told her. "Just don't panic." It sounded like instructions, but really he was begging her. He needed
her to react calmly.
"Remus, what is it? You can tell me."
He closed his eyes, if only to put off the moment, at least for a few seconds longer. He opened
them, stared into the soil, breathed deeply. "I'm a werewolf."
He looked up at her quickly. Understanding dawned in her eyes. He imagined forgotten, seemingly
insignificant memories resurfacing and questions being answered, and, like a knife being plunged
right through Remus' heart, he saw the expression that crossed every magical person's face when
the word werewolf was uttered. Fear flickered across Marlene's usually cheerful features, it flashed
in her eyes, and she took half a step back. Remus lifted his arm, as though to reach out to her,
before dropping it. His throat closed up, his worst fears confirmed. She thought he was a monster.
Then, like water down a drain, Marlene's expression slowly fell from her face. She looked at him
with compassion, and tears slowly filled her eyes.
They weren't sad tears, Remus knew. They were tears of guilt. Beneath the care and empathy now
on her face Remus saw shame, regret, over her initial fear. But, as was always the case, regret
came too late. Remus had seen her real reaction, knew how she had truly felt. A monster.
He could already feel the fresh wound scab over just as quickly as it had been dealt. His heart was
cold. He hadn't felt quite this way since he had seen these very same tears on the face of Sirius
Black, over a year ago, amidst a futile and much-too-late apology.
"It was just a prank on Snivellus, Moony! I didn't mean for you to get involved!"
"You told him how to get into the Shrieking Shack," Remus bellowed. "He could have been killed, I
would have been arrested or even put down if James hadn't stopped him!"
"Moony, please! I am so-"
"-so sorry," said Marlene, stepping towards him again and reaching out. "I really am, Remus, I
didn't mean to-"
"It's fine," said Remus hollowly, turning from her and starting to walk back to the campfire. "Don't
worry about it."
She hurried after him. "It's not fine! I can't even imagine how difficult and painful it must be for
you! Your- Your condition-"
"My curse," he spat, walking faster. "Call it what it is."
"Remus," she caught up to him, "I can't convey how sorry I am. To feel afraid? I must be an idiot!
You're one of the kindest, gentlest people I know, and even though it was only for a moment I am a
complete arse for-"
"Marlene, you can stop." He looked sideways at her as they walked, his expression completely
neutral. He mustered a smile, from where he knew not, though it was empty and momentary. "It's
not your fault. We're raised to fear werewolves, your reaction is only natural. And we're right to
fear them."
"No, we're not! Remus-"
"Stop." He exhaled through his nostrils. There was the slightest shudder in his breath. "You can
stop. I don't think you did anything wrong, but if it makes you feel better, I forgive you."
She made a face. "It doesn't."
"Well, that's not up to me."
They were within hearing distance of the others, and she touched his arm one last time. "I really am
sor-"
"Shut it," he mumbled.
So she did, finally. They reached the campfire, and the others stared at the two of them as they sat
down. Sirius gave Marlene a dirty look, and when she looked at him he scoffed and turned away.
"We're all up to date," Remus said loudly. "We can quit beating around the bush."
Millicent nodded. She too looked guilty, likely for the part she'd played in putting Remus through
this. "Great. Okay, team. Let's make sure we're all on the same page. Tomorrow, when we reach
the Life Day celebration, our primary targets are the werewolves - the only ones we have a chance
of recruiting."
The fire danced to and fro as she talked, and Remus stared into it, his mind far away.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Lily warmed her hands by the crackling fire, watched it flicker, ebb, and flow. The seven of them
sat around it, sitting on the Belgian sand. No one had thought to bring a tent. No one had thought
they'd be jumping out of a plane.
"Every time we go on a mission with you, Edgar," said Gideon, rubbing his arms, "we end up cold
and hungry, squatting by a fire."
"No one told you to wear a sleeveless vest to war, you know," said Fabian.
"And no one told you to be a skinny prick, but you took it upon yourself to surprise us all," Gideon
snapped.
"No fighting, please" said Edgar, raising a hand. "It's only the first night." He looked at the rest of
them. "Honestly, you lot are in for a treat. If you think these two are bad now, try doing this for
months on end while looking over your shoulder every five minutes to find Grindelwald's troops
on your arse."
Acustus made a face. "No, thank you."
"He's exaggerating," Fabian told them. "We actually had a pretty grand time."
"And the team back then was unstoppable," Gideon added. "The three of us, with Barnabus, Felix-"
"Unstoppable is the wrong word," said Edgar. "They're dead. Barnabus, Felix, Bentley, Dover. As
incredibly talented and fearsome as it gets, and they died as easily as anything."
The brothers both paused for a moment.
"Way to kill the mood," Gideon mumbled.
"We need to be honest to James and Lily," said Edgar adamantly, as though daring the brothers to
refute this. "You two make this all seem like fun and games, but we've seen a lot of our comrades
die and there is only one thing stopping us from being amongst that number: luck." He turned to
James and Lily with intensity in his eyes. "Dumbledore has a lot of faith in his students, and I have
a lot of faith in Dumbledore, but he might not have prepared you for what you have to do. I am
forty eight now, with a wife, a child, and more on the way, but I still have nightmares of a war that
ended three decades ago like I'm that same wide-eyed eighteen year old that set off with these two
idiots for war. Nightmares." Gideon and Fabian had no jokes to add to that. The looks on their
faces told Lily that they had those very same nightmares. "We are not yet in Germany," Edgar
continued. "We are not yet at the point of no return. You can still go home if you wish, and no one
will think of you the slightest bit different. We can set up a portkey for you to leave in the morning,
and the five of us will manage just fine without you."
Lily didn't even need to look at James to know he felt the exact same as her. She glared at Edgar
defiantly. "We're not going anywhere."
"Our fate will be the same as yours," James declared. "We're ready for this."
"Are you sure?" Edgar pressed. "Are you sure you're ready for this war to take its toll on you? You
are only seventeen."
"It's already taken its toll on me," James said thunderously. "My mother had her throat slit! My
father bled out until he died! I saw it, the memory of it in Dumbledore's pensieve. You think I'll get
nightmares from what happens to us in Germany? Great! Hopefully the ones about my dead parents
will stop!"
Lily put a hand on his arm, and he took in a deep breath, as though he'd forgotten he had lungs. She
hadn't known about the nightmares. They lived in the same house, often fell asleep together, and
yet she hadn't known.
"We're ready," said Lily, taking her eyes off James to look calmly at the others. "Believe me, the
war has taken from us plenty." She felt each of their eyes upon her.
"What's your story?" Fabian asked her.
"I'm a Muggleborn."
Fabian nodded brusquely. "Right."
"It has taken from us all," piped up Taureau Barkley. They all stared at him. The man spoke very
rarely, and when he did they each found it unnerving. Lily would sometimes almost forget he was
even with them until he spoke - almost. The truth was, his presence itself was unnerving enough
for her to always be somewhat aware of him. "I have no doubt of the children's resolve. You see
their loss written plainly on their faces, just as we do our own." Taureau looked at each of them,
one at a time. "Anton Windstrum killed Emmett Fawley, my beloved. I had been prepared to live
the rest of my life in solitude until Albus Dumbledore recruited me for this mission. I will find
Anton Windstrum, and I will kill him. It is best I tell you this now, for I am aware that none of you
trust me. I have even acted against some of you before." He glanced at James and Lily then. "But,
at least until Anton Windstrum is dead, I am your ally."
There was a silence then, as each of them processed what he said. It was actually Acustus who
spoke next. "I want Windstrum dead too," he said quietly. This garnered surprised looks from them
all. "My Auror training was seen to by Caradoc Dearborn. I was one of the Aurors the Ministry
sent to track Caradoc down and detain him, even though I knew he was decent. And Windstrum
killed him. If we're going to bring him to justice, I want to help in any way I can."
"There may not be enough of Windstrum to go around," said James, smiling grimly. "He's the one
responsible for my parents' deaths."
Edgar surveyed James for a few seconds. "And what would you do to him?"
"I'm sorry?"
"What lengths would you go to for justice? Will you kill Windstrum?"
"I- Well, blimey, no I wouldn't kill him. I'll definitely beat him up a bit. Then, I don't know, we can
put him in prison or something."
"Taureau, I'm sure, would kill him," said Edgar. "Isn't that right?"
Taureau nodded easily. "With much pleasure."
"And the critical thing is, for you two kids, that Windstrum will just as easily kill the two of you.
Now, of course I am not advising you to become killers. But you have to understand, this is war.
To save lives, sometimes we have to take them."
Lily stared at him. "Edgar, have you used the killing curse?"
Edgar stared hard at her for a few seconds, before he sighed. "Twice. Both in the middle of long,
grueling duels. Both times, if I hadn't, lives would have been lost."
"Gideon and I, as well," piped up Fabian, looking pained. "I killed one of Grindelwald's men. They
had a shield charm up, and were about to kill Barnabus. I had no choice."
"It was about the same for me," said Gideon. It was odd seeing his face without a smile. "It was a
long war. We've both only used it once, ever, and it's haunting. But I don't think either of us regret
it."
Fabian nodded.
"Entering a war and refusing to kill," Taureau added, looking behind his glasses at Lily and James,
"is to submit oneself to death freely."
"We avoid it as much as possible, of course," Edgar clarified, sparing a glance towards Taureau,
"but what they are saying is true. Our enemies use killing curses, and can block all our strongest
jinxes with simple shield charms. But it's not so easy for us. Our shield charms can't block the
killing curse. This is the primary disadvantage we'll always have. The two of you aren't trained for
combat against Death Eaters. You think you are, but what you will soon experience is a far cry
from duels in the corridors of Hogwarts. I am sure you are both very talented, but the only way I
can see you beating a trained Death Eater in single combat is through lethal methods. I'm sorry."
Lily looked at James, and saw her expression mirrored back. Neither could quite believe what they
were hearing.
"It's not easy," Edgar added, a little more quietly. "It can eat away at your mind, afterward. War is
peculiar in that whatever we do on the battlefield is for the sake of others, and we return home as
heroes. The fact remains, however, that we are fighters, sometimes killers, people who have done
violent, terrible things, and at the end of the day our reasoning is the same as Grindelwald's was -
it's for the greater good. We rejoin society afterwards, and the things we had done would get us put
in cells if done outside of war time. We are not heroes, this is not a fairy tail by Beedle the Bard.
The good guys, especially the ones that get sent on secret covert missions, sometimes have to toe
the line. We get the job done. And I don't want you two to be liabilities while we try to do it. I don't
want to have to babysit you. I need to know that you can take care of yourselves if need be."
Lily looked at James again, and back at Edgar. "I'm sorry, but we won't kill anyone."
Edgar snorted. "Don't apologize, I don't actually want you to kill anyone. I only need to know how
capable you are of defending yourselves. War against trained killers is very, very difficult when
using non-lethal methods. I want to gauge how much training you two will need before we
properly get started." He glanced at Acustus. "This all goes for you too, Proudfoot. I didn't forget
you. Even though you're an Auror, you have yet to be put into any sort of high-stakes situation,
your life has never been on the line. When the time comes, you'll all need some tricks up your
sleeve." Edgar ran his fingers along the chain around his neck for a few seconds. Lily looked at the
chain, intrigued. "Anyway," he clapped loudly, "sleep. We have an early morning ahead of us, and
punctuality will be essential."
Lily conjured a blanket for herself, and as she curled up to sleep, James lying just beside her, she
wondered if he would have a nightmare tonight. His breathing was deep and even. She reached out
in the dark and found his hand. It was almost second nature by now, seeking the contact, and she
instantly felt at ease. Not for the first time, nor the last, she wondered, hoped, that she had the same
effect on him as he had on her.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Ahead, Remus walked alone through the forest. Millicent reckoned he would be better received if
he went alone, so they followed him from a distance from which they could see him but not be
seen with him.
The forest was thick, and there were many times they lost sight of him between branches and
leaves, but Millicent was adamant they didn't try to pick up the pace.
They'd trekked quietly for some time, until Marlene realized that Sirius was throwing strange
glances her way. Eventually she ran out of patience.
"What?" she snapped.
"I saw how you reacted, when Remus told you," said Sirius, his voice laced with venom. "You
were afraid of him. It's bad enough he already thinks he's a monster, the last thing he needs is-"
"I had an impulsive reaction, Black, and I've already tried to apologize to Remus. I don't want to
hear a word of it from you. Frankly," she'd meant to say something scathing, but nothing came to
mind, "I'm growing tired of fighting with you."
"Well, it was your choice."

"No," she said, staring at him. "It wasn't."
"I mean the state of things between us. You wanted this."
She opened her mouth.
"Or maybe not." He shrugged. "Come to think of it, it seems like you have no clue what you want."
"I always know what I want," Marlene spat. "You just don't want to accept it. To accept that what I
want isn't you."
Sirius laughed maniacally. "Am I really supposed to believe that?"
"I truly don't care what you believe."
"So what, you genuinely want to marry that prick now?"
"Maybe!"
"Oh, I'm so happy for you."
"And watch who you call a prick. Will is decent. That's more than you can-"
"Will you two please shut it?" demanded Millicent, turning back to glare at them. She raised an
arm. "We've reached."
Ahead was an opening between the trees, and Marlene looked in time to see Remus slip through.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
It had looked like a small clearing upon approach, empty, but as soon as Remus stepped out from
the trees and into the clearing, Remus was reminded of the first time he had seen Diagon Alley as a
child. There were too many things to look at. The little clearing was really a field, stretching far and
wide enough that Remus had to squint to see the line of trees on the other side. The expanse was
filled with movement, and scarcely a patch of grass was empty. Ogres, goblins, centaurs, dwarves,
pixies, harpies, nymphs - it seemed like every sentient creature Remus had heard of or covered in
Care of Magical Creatures was here, running around or lazing on the grass. All the creatures
seemed to be grouped into camps. Some sat on logs around a fire while others were curled up on
the ground. At the far end were six giants, the biggest creatures Remus had ever laid eyes on. He
was sure they were tall enough to knock on the windows of Gryffindor tower, though now they
were sitting with their knees up to their chins in order to make room for the other creatures around
them. Everywhere he looked he found a different group of magical creatures - many of which he
never thought he'd see with his own eyes.
"Ahem."
With some reluctance, Remus snapped his attention back to his more immediate surroundings.
There was a stall set up, where a man sat at a desk and watched Remus with disdain.
"Hello," said Remus awkwardly. He walked to the stall, scratching his neck. "I'm Remus-"
"Humans have very restricted access here," said the man. He turned and pointed not far behind
him, where a dozen or so frantic looking humans scribbled away in journals like their lives
depended on it, or snapped clunky looking cameras with bangs and puffs of smoke, closely
examining pictures of all the mayhem around them. "We have little patience for your kind."
"My kind?" Remus repeated. "What are you talking about? You're a human just like-"
The man shimmered, his visage flickering, until a goblin sat where he'd been a moment before,
glaring up at him with black and beady eyes. The goblin flickered then, and in its place was a
house-elf, that same glare on its face. Then the house-elf flickered and the man was back, his
expression both smug and disdainful, as if to say, you were saying?
"What-" Remus blinked quickly at the man, "What are you?"
"Who I am is Mrs E, and I will be adjudicating the festivities."
"Mrs…E."
"That is correct."
"Adjudicating?" Remus felt slow. "What kind of celebration needs an adjudicator?"
A veela ran past then, an actual veela, with pale skin and blonde hair, striking a delicate, perfect
figure, so unexpectedly beautiful that Remus knew he would do anything for her, just to look at her
a moment longer would be enough-
Fire filled the veela's hand and she hurled it at an encampment of dwares. It hit one on the back,
knocking him down. The other dwarves all roared and got to their feet, unsheathing short swords
and charging at the veela, who cackled and hurled more flames. In fact, everywhere Remus
looked, if he looked long enough, chaos would break out and spread across the field.
"Adjudicators are necessary at every Life Day," said Mrs E dryly. "But I wouldn't expect a human
to understand."
"No, I'm a werewolf," Remus said hurriedly. "I'm not, um… well, I suppose I'm not strictly a
human."
Mrs E narrowed her eyes, leaned forwards, and peered into Remus' face, before leaning back again.
"Yes, I suppose you are correct. Are you with the pack?"
"The… pack?"
She looked Remus up and down and snorted. "A resounding no, then."
"What's the pack?"
"The only pack of werewolves that ever attends Life Day. Garzhand's pack."
"The only ones?"
"Far too many Life Days have been ruined by werewolves who can't… control their appetite.
Those in Gorzhund's pack have reasonable self-control."
Remus scanned the different encampments keenly. "So they're actually civilized werewolves?"
She snorted. "Is asking stupid questions the only thing you do?"
"What?"
She pointed towards a camp not far from the dwarves. Seventy, perhaps eighty odd figures dressed
in rags, or else nothing at all, lazed around a large encampment, some sleeping, others tearing into
what looked like raw meat which Remus didn't want to guess the origins of. Somehow they all
radiated the sort of power and danger that Remus only ever felt within himself just once a month.
"Civilized," Mrs E repeated with a snort. Then she shook her head. A few creatures had started
queueing up behind Remus, sighing or tapping their feet. "Leave me now. Go to the pack. Though
I'll warn you that they will want absolutely nothing to do with you."
"Right," said Remus. He ambled towards the encampment of werewolves, feeling completely out
of his element. The dwarves scowled as he walked past. They'd settled down by now, the veela
nowhere to be seen, which disturbed Remus a little. One of them spat in his direction. They must
really hate humans, Remus figured, even though he technically wasn't one. He doubted they cared.
When he drew near the werewolves, he examined them closely. He could smell raw meat, and
worse. He got a feeling they didn't shower often. There were knots in all their hair, dirt staining
their skin. The ones that weren't stark naked had only cloths around their midriffs, no shoes, shirt,
or trousers. Scars riddled many of their torsos.
Two werewolves in particular watched as he approached, and stood at the edge of the encampment,
barring his way. They were massive, male, not as tall as Hagrid but just as intimidating and bulky.
Both had scars on their faces, and neither seemed particularly impressed by Remus.
"Can we help you?" asked the first one. He had short blonde hair, parted in the middle where a
jagged scar ran across his scalp and ended just above his eye.
"Hi," said Remus, feeling unsure of how exactly to talk to them. "My name is Remus. I'm a
werewolf, and I want to join-"
"No," said the second. He was bald, with bright blue eyes that gleamed with distaste.
"No…" Remus repeated unsurely.
"You cannot join us," the first one clarified, looking Remus up and down the same way Mrs E had.
"We do not welcome newcomers so easily. Especially ones such as yourself."
"But I'm a-"
"You are not one of us."
"You may have been bitten," said the second, "but that is where our similarities end."
"But-" Remus sputtered, "But you don't even know me!"
That same once-over look again. "We know enough. Leave, before we stop asking nicely."
Remus stared between them for a few seconds, lost for words. Eventually he could only nod to
himself slowly, before turning away. He walked back to Mrs E's stall, his head hung. The line was
gone, and he looked at her dejectedly.
She didn't look sympathetic at all. "I told you," she said. "You are not their cup of tea at all."
"Well, what am I supposed to do now? I came here to join them."
She shrugged without a care in the world. "Stay and watch. The first event of the day is in a few
minutes. Most Fearsome contest, it's always a good show. For some, it's the highlight of the day.
Only reason they come."
For Remus, being fearsome was one of the last things he would ever want to advertise, let alone
take pride in. It seemed that once again, he'd managed to find a place he didn't belong.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Ah, splendid. Our guests are finally awake."
Frank cracked his eyes open. The room was bright, and large. The walls and floor were a polished
golden. He found himself on his knees, his arms bound behind his back. Beside him, Alice,
Kingsley, and the two Ministry officials, Mark and Brian, were all in the same position. Before
them all were two men. The first, Frank recognized as Rodolphus Lestrange. He had high
cheekbones and an angular jaw, with black eyes, dangerously sharp. Frank found that he
recognized the second man, too.
"Him," he said, eyes widening. His voice was rough - he wasn't sure how long he'd been
unconscious. "Kingsley, that man was a friend of Profes- of Anton Windstrum's. He killed James'
parents!"
"My name is Artem," the man informed him. He had an accent, along the lines of Eastern
European, but his pronunciation was perfect. "And I did not kill the Potters. Though I did help," he
added as an afterthought.
"Yes," said Rodolphus. "Artem, and his dearly departed Ukrainian friends Maksym and Danylo-"
Artem growled.
"-are cherished allies of the Dark Lord. I understand that they, along with our mutual friend Anton,
managed to join Dumbledore's trusted circle of foolhardy soldiers, and Dumbledore's lot paid
dearly." Those sharp eyes found Frank and Alice. "So dearly, in fact, that I suspect he has now
resorted to sending school children to do his dirty work for him."
Frank wanted to correct Rodolphus - he wasn't a school child anymore - but he suspected now
wasn't the time.
"On the contrary," said Kingsley, "we are here to negotiate, not to fight."
Rodolphus seemed amused. "Negotiate what exactly?"
"An arrangement between the British ministry and your new German administration. We need you
to re-open the country, put the Floo network back online, accept Portkeys, and remove the anti-
apparition jinx. We will negotiate a deal that will be mutually beneficial, at least for now."
Rodolphus stared hard at Kingsley. "Kingsley Shacklebolt, is it? I know of you. You expect me to
believe that you work for the British Ministry, and not for Albus Dumbledore?"
"We work for the Ministry," piped up Mark, indicating himself and Brian. "Mr Shacklebolt and the
children are simply our escorts."
"I see. And the two of you have been sent to negotiate with us, have you?"
"That's right."
"And does the Dark Lord strike you as much of a negotiator?"
Mark opened his mouth, but didn't seem able to find any words. Brian didn't either.
"You," said Kingsley, swinging Rodolphus' gaze back to himself, "are not the Dark Lord."
Rodolphus gave him an amused glance. "You are quite right, Mr Shacklebolt. And I am feeling
quite generous." He gestured widely. "We will negotiate with you. Or rather, with these two," he
indicated Mark and Brian. "We will have no business with the rest of you. You are welcome to
entertain yourselves however you wish within the city until this business is concluded. Explore, see
the sights. Welcome to Berlin."
Without ceremony, they were untied and brought to stand on shaky feet. They were each given
their wands back before Mark and Brian were led away by Rodolphus and Artem. Frank had to
wonder if he'd ever see them again. Kingsley, Alice, and himself were left to wander about. They
left the room and found themselves in the German ministry, the floor and walls gleaming the same
polished gold, the whole place eerily empty save for masked Death Eaters here and there. Frank
felt on edge.
"Was that part of the plan?" asked Alice, once there were no Death Eaters around. "Those two are
idiots, Rodolphus will walk all over them."
"It matters not," said Kingsley. "Whatever arrangement is made now will be irrelevant once we
invade in a few weeks. If they want to exclude us, that plays right into our hands. We're here to
find German resistance."
"So… how do we do that?" asked Frank.
"We keep our ears to the ground, we explore the city." Kingsley gave the two teens a reassuring
smile. "And we wait."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The Most Fearsome competition had been followed by an all-you-can-eat contest, with the menu
consisting of local wildlife and the winner being a vampire, Ulysses Drago, who had a thirst for
blood that was apparently unquenchable. More competitions had followed, like Strongest Beast
(giant) and Prettiest Monster (veela), and the day had consisted largely of festivities and mirth for
all magical creatures, a celebration of the various traits and features that made each one unique.
Presently, however, Remus was witnessing what looked to be the only serious event of the day.
A wide circle had been formed by all the creatures around the field, and they had once again
segregated themselves around the circle into their respective species. In the centre of it all was Mrs
E, adjudicating whatever it was that was going on.
Remus couldn't hear what was being discussed in the center, but it seemed contentious judging by
the way each group of creatures was getting riled up. He stood on the outside, unable to find a way
to penetrate the circle. After some hesitation, he decided to once again approach Garzhand's pack.
At the back of the group were some of the smaller werewolves, who clearly hadn't been able to
push their way to the front, so Remus managed to slip through a few of them unimpeded.
Eventually however, his luck ran out. While slipping between the dirty, smelling bodies of his own
kind, he bumped right into the large form of the bald werewolf from earlier. The man turned
around slowly, and when he saw Remus his lip curled.
"Do you want to be killed, boy?"
Remus tried to stand his ground. "I want to hear the discussion."
"You can listen with the other humans, down there." He pointed further along the circle, where the
humans with cameras continued to snap away, wedged between centaurs and some pixies.
"But," said Remus, "I'm one of you-"
"No," the man reiterated, "you're not. Go to them, or I'll drag you to them."
Once again Remus had to leave the werewolves with his head hung, and he joined the frantic
humans with their cameras and notebooks feeling more out of place than he had surrounded by the
werewolves. The humans didn't acknowledge him, too absorbed in the proceedings in the center of
the circle. Remus finally cast his gaze to the center, and his eyes widened.
Rabastan Lestrange, Remus recognized him from the papers, stood near Mrs E, speaking out to all
the various magical creatures.
"-your own best interests," he was saying. "The changes the Dark Lord will make to the whole
world will put magical folk in charge, and with the Muggles under our heel all magical creatures
will finally be able to flourish, and be free. No longer will you have to cower and hide in the
shadows. The world has always belonged to us, and it is about time we remind our weaker
counterparts of this."
Mrs E cleared her throat, the masculine features of her current form looking around the circle
somewhat awkwardly. "For your consideration, we actually have someone else who would like to
speak to you all. She has come to make a similar plea."
From out of the crowd stepped Millicent, followed by Johan, Helena, Sirius, Marlene, and Peter.
They joined Mrs E in the middle of the circle, each eyeing Rabastan with caution and loathing.
"Mr Lestrange has left a few details out of his little pitch," Millicent told them all. "If his side wins
this war, yes, magical folk will likely rule the world. Witches. Wizards. Magical creatures,
however? Do you really think the likes of You-Know-Who, or Rabastan here, have a place for you
all in their new order? Out of curiosity, how many of you here have heard, from the mouth of a
witch or wizard, the term monster? Or half-breed?"
Gradually, almost every creature raised a hand, looking around at each other with something akin
to relief to find that others had been subject to the same cruelties as them.
"The Death Eaters will use you," she continued, "allow you to die for them in war, and if they win
it they will discard you like torn Quidditch gloves. Magical folk have treated you terribly
throughout history. A magical takeover of society would never be beneficial to any of you."
Remus looked around. Judging by the expressions he saw, her arguments had been compelling.
"Millicent Bagnold, am I correct?" asked Rabastan. "It is a pleasure. You have made quite a name
for yourself. There are some who believe you will be making a run for Minister for Magic some
years down the road."
"That doesn't mean much," she replied curtly. "These days it seems like everyone is running for
Minister."
"So it does," he said with a chuckle. "But let us say, just for the sake of saying, that you do become
the Minister. What would you change?" He turned to address the crowd again. "She talks as if the
misfortune of magical creatures is a fault of the Dark Lord's. As if she, and her side, have ever
done a thing for you. She will make empty promises, I am sure, that if you assist their side to
victory, they will try to make reparations towards all of your various kinds for the many
transgressions against you. This will be a lie. We have all treated you wrongly. This I will freely
admit. But, once the dust has settled after this war, which winning side do you all see allowing you
to live the way you like? Kill what you like?" There were grunts from the likes of ogres and trolls.
"Eat what you like?" From the werewolves and vampires there were murmurs of assent. Rabastan
looked up towards the only giant present, as the others' presence would leave no room around the
circle. This giant was crouched, still the size of a cliff face, between the veela and the goblins.
"Who will let you roam where you like, out in the open?" He turned in a slow circle to look at each
group. "In a world ruled by the magical, you are free to be magical. In their world ruled by
Muggles, you must hide. Cower. Gather like this, in the shadows. Is this sort of behaviour
becoming of the noble and fearsome beasts before me?"
Heads shook. Not all of them, but enough to make Remus uneasy.
"That should be enough," said Mrs E dryly. "I suspect we've all heard as much as we need to, and
many of us are impatient for the Fatest Beast contest. I will ask any who would like to join either of
our guests to remain here. Otherwise, you are all free to prepare for your sprints and relays."
One by one each group of creatures left. To Remus' surprise, not a single group remained behind.
Rabastan's lip curled, and Millicent looked frustrated but at the same time as though she
completely expected this outcome. She nodded to the others and started walking away, not looking
Remus' direction at all. Neither did the others, save for Peter who glanced at him curiously until
Sirius elbowed him in the side. The six of them retreated in the direction of the forest. Remus
supposed it was best if no one knew he was with them - his already awful credibility here would
only plummet further.
He turned, and walked after the humans with cameras and notebooks, though he cast a frown
towards the pack of werewolves making their way back to their encampment. If Millicent had
failed to gain their good graces, how in the world was he supposed to?
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
It was still night when James was shaken awake by Edgar. "Time to go," he said, before moving on
to wake up Lily.
James rubbed his eyes and walked to where the Prewett brothers stood on the edge of the water
lapping at the sand, looking out at the ocean. "Are we swimming or something?" he asked, half-
joking. He didn't know what to expect from this lot anymore.
"No," said Edgar, joining them. "We're sailing."
"Sailing?" came Acustus' tired voice.
"I sent a patronus to a few acquaintances of ours from the war. The previous war, mind. They…
well, they sail."
"And they got here so quickly?" asked Lily, her voice sounding husky as she too joined them.
"They don't exactly follow the same rules as the rest of us," said Gideon.
"It's hard to explain," said Fabian, looking apologetic for being so cryptic. "You'll understand when
we're on the boat."
James squinted, trying to make anything out through the darkness before them. There was only
open sea, stretching on indefinitely until the point where it met the night sky.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, there was a boat right before them all, swaying to and fro. There
was something grand about it, even in the lighting of the stars alone, and even though it wasn't the
biggest ship James had seen, there was something in the way it seemed to poise itself upon the
water. From bow to stern there was a pride, almost a sense of majesty to it.
A rope ladder was thrown over the side, and James and the others waded through the water. He
grimaced at the discomforting feeling of having his shoes filled and soaked, before climbing
aboard. On the deck were a handful of figures rushing abound. From what James could make out
they all had weather beaten faces, large frames, and fancy looking capes and breeches, mostly torn.
One of them, a man with a pointed chin and bushy curls sticking out from under a large hat with a
feather in it, come over to greet them.
"It's been too long," he bellowed to Edgar, Gideon, and Fabian, clapping them each on the back.
His accent was Irish.
"It has indeed," said Edgar. "How have you been, John? Doing alright?"
"Aye, always doing alright. Better than alright!" He paused and looked at James, Lily, Acustus,
and Taureau. "You lot had best brace yourselves if you've never done this before."
"Done what?" asked James.
Gideon grimaced at James and the others as John pulled a chipped, curved wand from his pocket
and began to wave it in complex motions. "We're about to go to Limbo."
Lily frowned. "Lim-?"
The world suddenly seemed to shake. James felt like he was being squeezed by a giant hand, yet at
the same time pulled apart from head to toe by giant fingers. It was akin to the sensation of
apparition, but amplified by ten. No, a hundred.
Suddenly the pressure stopped, and the sky was pink, the sun was directly above their heads, the
water gleaming pinks and reds. There was a sensation upon James' skin, both warm and chilled,
like his body wasn't quite sure what to feel.
Taureau didn't seem perturbed but rather fascinated, looking around with intrigue. "Where are we?"
John grinned at him. "A place quite literally neither here nor there."
"Yes, but where though?" asked Acustus.
"Both everywhere," said Edgar, smirking at their confusion, "and nowhere."
John gestured widely. "Welcome to Limbo."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The celebrations were still going strong through the night. Therefore, Remus was confused when
he saw the werewolves departing, one large but deathly quiet group, towards the line of trees. None
of the other creatures noticed, too entranced by the light show being put on by some pixies in the
sky.
The werewolves stole away in the darkness, disappearing back into the forest, and Remus found
himself looking between the rest of the Life Day celebrations and the departing pack with the
utmost uncertainty. Had they had enough? And what was he supposed to do?
Well, he supposed, there was only one thing to do. He waited until the last few began to vanish
between the trees.
Then, he followed.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"That's our cue," said Millicent. "Let's go."
They watched the celebration from the line of trees, not far from where the werewolves were
passing into the forest.
"Go?" said Helena, looking alarmed. She glanced back to the field, where every creature Sirius
could name and many more that he couldn't were busy celebrating the occasion. Johan, too, looked
crestfallen. For magical creature experts, Sirius figured, this was as good as it got.
"We have a job to do," Millicent reminded them. "The werewolves, not being the most social of all
these creatures, are leaving. That means so will Remus, which means so are we. You two are our
magical creature experts. Should the worst come to pass, we could use your help against the
werewolves."
"So what are we going to do in the meantime?" asked Sirius.
"Well," she said, "Remus will likely follow them from a distance. They didn't seem terribly fond of
him, or fond of anything for that matter. We will need to follow Remus from an even greater
distance - it is imperative that we are not seen with him, otherwise they will be even more wary of
him than they already are. We won't have much to do a lot of the time, which is why there's so few
of us. We're really just an extraction team should Remus need it. Other than that, we're here for
support and emergencies. It won't be the most glamorous time in the world, but our task was never
exactly glamorous to begin with."
"Frank and Alice go off to recruit rebels in Germany," said Marlene, frowning, "James and Lily are
part of a strike force to take down Windstrum..."
"And we get to babysit Remus," Sirius finished. The two shared a look. "Yippee."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"But what does Limbo mean?" Lily pressed, gazing around in wonder.
"It is the place between and beyond all places," John provided, rather unhelpfully.
"Put it like this," said Edgar. "When we apparate, in the moment between our departure and arrival,
where are we? The Floo, and the portkeys, what is the middle man between point A and point B?
Where do vanished objects go? Into non-being. Into everything. Limbo."
"Fascinating," said Taureau.
"And this boat?" James asked. "The sea? The sun? Is it all part of Limbo too?"
"Yes… and no," said John, rather unhelpfully.
"This is the form Limbo takes for us while we are on the Chestnut," said Fabian. "The boat, that
is."
"And what if I fancy a swim? Can I jump off?"

"Oh, I wouldn't advise that," chuckled a passing crewmate, with scars criss-crossing a wrinkled
face.
"You will be annihilated," said Edgar. "Do not step foot off the Chestnut until we have reached."
"Why don't we sail to Germany the normal, non-annihilating way?" asked Acustus.
"We cannot simply sail into Germany - Windstrum will certainly have prepared for that. But by
passing into Limbo itself rather than apparating through it, our arrival into Germany cannot be
prevented. The only set-back is, time and space work very differently here. We will only reach
Germany now in…"
"How long?" Lily asked sharply. "A day? Two?"
Part Three - Marry Me
Over a week had passed, and Lily still wasn't used to it. How could one ever be?
Currently, the Chestnut was still gliding over a peaceful pink sea that held beautiful, unbelievable
reflections in its depths. The sun was still directly above them. Lily wondered if it ever set in
Limbo - for the last week and a half it had been day time with no end, no hint of a withdrawal from
the bright, burning orb in the sky. Could she even call it a sun?
Lily stood by the railings of the starboard side, gazing out into the sea as she often had over the
past week. Behind her, most of the crew were playing some sort of old wizarding card game on a
rickety table. Edgar, Gideon, Fabian, and even Taureau and Acustus had joined them.
It surprised Lily, however, to find herself joined at the railings by James - though at this point it
shouldn't have. He slid an easy, comfortable arm around her waist and she felt herself mold into the
side of him. It was like the jigsaw puzzles she'd played with as a kid. A piece that fit with another
so precisely, simply because it had been made that way.
"I'll never get over it," he murmured, gazing outwards.
Lily reflected inwards and had to agree.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Eventually, Remus collapsed.
For over a week he had followed the werewolves, with little means to find good food and drink for
himself. Through the forest, across a valley, up a bloody mountain and then back down, and now,
as they traversed a plains that seemed to stretch on indefinitely, no break at the edge of the
horizon, Remus fell. Then he closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he found three figures towering over him. He scrambled on the ground, sat
up, took in his surroundings quickly. It was night, and dark. Two of the figures were the
werewolves insistent on impeding his way back at Life Day. The third was leaner, shorter, but
something about him was different. Maybe it was his posture, or maybe it was the look in his eyes,
but Remus knew a leader when he saw one.
"Who are you?" the third asked. His hair was long, hanging past his shoulders in a black, tangled
mess. He was bare chested, a mass of muscle, with only a rag around his midriff. His eyes were
green, and they glimmered like a jungle cat's.
"My name is Remus Lupin, and I am a werewolf." None of the three reacted in any visible way.
Behind them, Remus saw the rest of the pack, curled up and asleep or sitting around a fire and
talking quietly, perhaps eighty in all. When these three continued their silence, Remus spoke again.
"I tried telling these two already," he nodded to the two burly ones, "back at Life Day, but they
ignored me and told me to go away. All I want to do is join you."
"Why?" asked the third simply.
"I- Well, I'm a werewolf. Mrs E, the adjudicator, she told me you're Garzhands' pack. I'm hoping I
can join the pack."
"But why?" the third pressed. "You seek Garzhand's pack? I am Garzhand. I care very much for my
pack. Oimo and Darga turned you away because they know how cautious I am when it comes to
the pack, and who is a part of it. If you want anything to do with us, you had better tell me
why. Now."
Remus swallowed. After a moment, in a voice that was quiet, and private, he said, "All I want is a
place where I can belong."
"I see." Garzhand crouched down so he was at eye level with Remus. "And do you really think you
belong with us?"
"Yes." Remus frowned. "I'm a werewolf."
"Once a month, perhaps." Those green eyes glimmered like the surface of a pool. "But for the pack,
things are different. We are not merely werewolves on the night of a full moon. We are not
ashamed of what we are. We wear our condition, our lycanthropy, with pride. You see it as a curse.
We see it as a lifestyle. It is who we are, every day of the month. Of our lives. You want to join us,
yet you live your life trying to hide that which gives us common ground."
"How would you know what I hide? You've just met me."
"Your appearance told Darga and I everything," said the one with a scar crossing over his eye -
Oimo. "The manner of your clothes, the posture in your shoulders."
"The look in your eyes," Darga added.
"Things like those," said Garzhand, "are familiar to any werewolf in the pack. Some of us even
used to live like you, once upon a time. Ashamed and afraid. We recognize these things in others
quite easily."
"Then what is this?" asked Remus impatiently. "Why are you talking to me? Why now? I've
followed you all for over a week! And you only want to chat after I collapse?" He got to his feet,
an anger from deep in his belly giving fire to his eyes and strength to his words. "Sure, I am
ashamed of what I am. I do try to dress and act civilized. Because I live in the civilized world! I
don't eat wildlife and go running naked through the forest, I don't have that liberty!"
Garzhand seemed amused. "You live in the civilized world, yet you just told us that you are
looking for a place where you belong. You came to us in the first place because you have realized
that the civilized world, their world, is not right for you. I think you belong right here."
"Is that right?" Remus asked with a hollow laugh. Garzhand was offering him exactly what he'd
asked for, exactly what he needed for the sake of the mission, but Remus was quickly ceasing to
care. He was tapping into a place within himself that was angry and jaded, and he didn't want to
stop. "Your two security guards here told me I don't belong with you earlier, that you all want
nothing to do with me, but now you're offering me a place in your pack?"
"I am."
"Even though you just finished explaining how much I act and look and dress different-"
"You did."
Remus paused. "Did what?"
"You did act, look, dress differently to the rest of us. There is a reason why we are just now having
this conversation, rather than a week ago."
Remus looked between the three of them with furrowed brows. His chest was heaving slightly.
Oimo and Darga grinned at him, and Garzhand gestured at him. "Look at yourself. Really look."
Remus cast his glance downwards. He hadn't been paying attention, but now he saw jagged tears
and stains in his clothes, dirt rubbed into his skin, under his fingernails. The hiking and camping in
the wild hadn't been kind to him, and he hadn't bothered cleaning himself up with magic. He hadn't
cared. Remus was filthy, and he hadn't cared.
"Many find myself, and especially Oimo and Darga, quite frightening," Garzhand continued. "They
both told me how frightened of them you were back at Life Day. But now you glare at us, not a
care in the world. You speak your whole, true mind. You are not afraid anymore."
"That- that doesn't mean-"
"You are behaving like one of us, Remus, at least in parts. These are the basics. Here is a crude, yet
simple test. Smell your armpit."
Remus frowned in confusion. He lifted his arm and sniffed-
"Oh, bloody hell," he gagged. When was his last shower?
"Perhaps we can't say for sure just yet," said Garzhand, eyes crinkling, "but you may have found a
place you do belong."
Remus didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to feel.
Garzhand turned and gestured onwards. To the fire, the werewolves curled up and snoring soundly.
The pack. "Get some sleep, Remus. We'll get you settled with the rest of them in the morning."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Only once Remus laid down near the fire to sleep, and the three big werewolves found their own
spots to lie down for the night, did Millicent and the other breathe sighs of relief.
"So he's done it," said Sirius. "Right? He's joined them."
"It looks that way," said Millicent.
They had all been sorely tempted to help Remus over the last week. He had looked like he was
suffering as he tramped through the wilderness, following the pack of werewolves with no
company or help. A couple times they had managed to sneakily levitate some food over to him in
such a way that even the werewolf with the keenest eye in the pack would not be able to spy this
over a distance. For the most part, however, they had been forced to watch him try to make do by
himself. It was a relief to them all to see his hard work pay off.
"Now what?" Marlene asked. It had been a boring week, and she suspected that things were only
going to grow more so.
"Now we wait," said Millicent. "Our job is mostly done. We are simply here if Remus needs us."
Marlene had been hoping she'd say something like that. "In that case," she said slowly, "is there
any chance I can take a quick break? It's just, we're in Poland now, right? And there's someone in
Poland that I'd quite like to meet up with for, say… maybe a day or something."
Millicent looked surprised. "I suppose that's fine. As long as you really are back in a day. Who do
you want to meet?"
Marlene could feel Sirius' gazing burning into the side of her face, and she did her best to ignore
him. "My fiancé."
"Oh," said Millicent. She looked steadily more surprised and awkward. "Yeah, alright. You have
your apparition license? You know where he lives?"
Marlene nodded. "Mhm."
"Okay, well… don't give away any details of what we're doing here, and erm… have fun?"
Millicent wrinkled her nose.
"Thanks! I'll head off now, then." Marlene nodded to the others, eager to set off. In the moment
before she turned on the spot and disapparated, her eyes locked onto Sirius'. His face was devoid of
emotion. Not detached, but rather as though the life had been sucked from him.
Pop.
Poland.
Specifically, Warsaw. Marlene had been here once before, on a family visit to the Arger family. Of
course, now Will Arger had his own place, near the city center. He had a job with the Polish
Ministry, and he'd told her through their letter correspondence that he lived down the road from his
work.
The streets were empty. Given that it was well past midnight this was to be expected, though it
robbed Marlene of the chance to get a proper feel for the city. Without the people, accents to listen
to, another language to observe, it could have been a city in near enough any other country. At least
the street signs were in Polish. Marlene assumed it was Polish, at any rate.
She came to a block of houses just past a corner store, and at the third house along she climbed the
stairs to the door. Knocked twice.
Then she realised that knocking twice was probably insufficient, given how late at night it was.
She rang the doorbell twice, and started knocking much louder. A light came on inside, and before
long she heard footsteps approach.
The door opened, and a boy around her age peered out at her irritably, rubbing his eyes. Then he
paused, and his eyes widened, and he grinned widely. "Marlene!"
Will Arger was handsome. He had the classically blessed Eastern European bone structure, not a
flaw to be found, and when he smiled his eyes seemed to shine. He had, of course, blonde hair and
blue eyes. But what had struck Marlene as properly attractive, when she had been much younger
and had first gotten to know him, was his personality. Kind, warm, funny. As far as life partners
went, he was the perfect choice. But she hadn't chosen him, and therein lay the problem.
She cast those thoughts aside for the moment and pounced on him, hugging him tightly. "Will."
He returned the hug, but seemed lost for words. "I- How- What are you doing here?"
"School stuff," she said, pulling back and beaming at him. "But I wanted to see you."
"Yeah," he said, smiling back earnestly. "I'm glad you did. It's been, what, over a year?"
She nodded. "Around that."
How peculiar it was, she pondered, that she could go a year without seeing him, yet their fate could
still be sealed. He was her fiancé.
"How long are you here for?" he asked, leading her into the house and closing the door.
"Just a day. Then I'll have to head back."
"I'll take work off tomorrow," he said excitedly. "I can show you the town, we can-"
"You don't have to do that," she said, laughing. "You just got this job, didn't you?"
He looked at her sincerely. "Marlene, if I see you just one day a year there's no way I'm going to
spend that day working."
"Well, if you're sure…" She laughed again. "Crazy boy."
"Have you had dinner yet?" he asked. "Stupid question I guess, it's two in the morning-"
"I'm starving," Marlene realized. Food while camping in the wilderness had ranged from tolerable
to terrible, and her last decent meal had been in Britain. "Do you have any leftovers?"
"Heaps! I'll heat it up." He rushed into a kitchen, flicking lights on as he went. It was a Muggle
house, and so he had to keep magic to a minimum here. It was certainly an interesting way to live.
Poland was far ahead of Britain when it came to integrating wizards into Muggle society.
The leftovers, a delightfully colorful looking spaghetti bolognese, was heated in a microwave,
which Marlene had only ever seen before at Lily's house.
They sat at the table with a bottle of wine and two wide glasses, and though Marlene was much
more partial to heating charms than microwaves, the food was still wonderful.
"So," said Will, smiling at her between spoonfuls, "we're getting married come Christmas."
Marlene nodded. "I still can't believe it's finally going to happen."
Will nodded too, then paused for a moment and looked at her seriously. "If we're being transparent,
this isn't necessarily what either of us would have chosen for ourselves."
"What do you mean?" Marlene said quickly.

"I mean, we were engaged before either of us could form words with our mouths. The choice was
taken from us before we were born. It's terrible. But it's for the benefit of our families - their
livelihood and legacies. And as frustrating as I've always found this situation, it's at least given me
solace that we have this in common. We are both victims of our Pureblood culture, and there's
comfort to be taken from that." He grimaced. "I guess what I'm saying is, out of all the people I
could have been forced to marry, I'm glad it's you. Because in another lifetime, I could see myself
marrying you of my own free will."
Marlene lowered her fork, feeling a surge of warmth for him. He really was a true companion for
her throughout this ordeal. And she had to agree with him. "The first time I met you, I was ecstatic.
The boy my parents had chosen for me was my dream husband anyway. Since then…" A particular
boy with grey eyes, long and curly black hair, and a laugh that sounded something akin to a bark
sprang to mind. She wondered if Will had a girl in his life in quite the same way as she'd had
Sirius. She wasn't sure whether or not she wanted him to. "Since then, a lot has changed. But I still
find myself so, so grateful that it's you. I think to myself that this… this can work. That's why I
wanted our wedding day brought forward to January in the first place. Because I'm not just ready -
I want this. And picking the date? That seems like the most control I'm going to have over the
matter."
Will laughed. Then he stopped, and looked at her curiously. "We can have more control than that.
"
"Sorry?"
He stood suddenly, and she made to join him but he gestured to her to stay seated. He walked to
where she sat, and kneeled down in front of her.
"Oh, Merlin's beard," she murmured.
"Marlene," he said in a low voice, "our first date was five years ago. We were thirteen, at a
Quidditch game."
"Tornados against the Kestrels," she whispered.
He smiled. "Yes. Our parents had wanted us to go to tea, or better yet have our date in one of their
houses, where all the adults could watch and monitor us. Instead, we chose to shape our own
destiny together. Yes, we are engaged to be married, and nothing we do can change that. Not
unless we want to be disowned," he added as an afterthought.
She snorted.
"But that doesn't mean we can't do this our way. Marlene, we are engaged, and yet I have never
thought to ask you one very simple question."
Her heart was fluttering, she could feel it, like it had sprouted wings and was trying to escape - be
free. "What's that?"
He took her hand in his. There was no box, no ring. Just them. "Will you marry me?"
She bit her lip, and smiled widely. "Okay."
There was a boy elsewhere in Poland, sitting by some bushes and spying on an encampment of
werewolves, who Marlene truly loved. With every fiber of her being.
But Will? Will was great, and kind, and easy. And though she hadn't chosen him, she liked him.
And maybe one day, she might just love him.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Before long James had gotten to know the crew quite well. Puffin was the chef, a big bloke with a
curly blonde moustache that trailed down to his chin. Gregory, with battle scars from knife and
sword wounds riddling his face, was the Limbo expert - he was charting their course to Germany
through this bizarre, hidden world. Coffer was the first mate, a skinny bugger who was apparently
deadly with a compass and had the most exciting tales to tell from his time on the high seas. Then
there were various crewmates who had only recently joined them, or who were only temporary
hires - James didn't quite remember all their names. Finally, of course, John was the captain,
eccentric, rowdy, and apparently two hundred and forty one years old.
"You're what?" James asked, eyes narrowing.
"Aye," said John, sticking his chest out proudly. A number of them sat around the cabin, sprawled
in bunks or sitting in lawn chairs. "I've seen it all, lad. The Chestnut here has had all sorts of
passengers you might recognize. Tesla, van Gogh, Einstein, Napoleon-"
"Hang on," said Lily dubiously. "Those are all Muggle names."
"Tesla was a Squib, actually," said Gideon lightly as he bit a chunk from an apple. "Turned out
alright, though."
"And Einstein discovered magic himself," added Coffer, twirling his cutlus idly in his hand.
"Smartest Muggle that's been for a long time, I reckon. He tried writing a paper about it, and the
Swiss ministry had to step in and reveal magic to him formally. Some wanted him Obliviated, but
the idea was dismissed. Would have felt wasteful."
Lily looked flabbergasted. "And van Gogh? Napoleon?"
"Both Muggles, too" said John. "Old Vincent got involved with some wizards, and all his Muggle
friends thought he went crazy. We ferried him around on the Chestnut for a couple days."
Lily looked at Coffer. "Did- Did you cut his ear off?"
Coffer looked at John and let out a burst of laughter. "No, no, of course not. Cut it off himself, the
absolute nutter."
"And Napoleon hired us for a few jobs," said John, looking a tad shamefaced. "Felt a bit bad about
that, but the pay was bloody good."
"I think I'm going to stop asking questions now," said Lily. She looked light headed.
"Hold on," said James. "None of that explains how you're over two hundred years old."
"Time works differently in Limbo," said Edgar.
Everyone turned to look at him, poking his head into the cabin. He looked at James and Lily, and
nodded. "Let's give you two something to do, eh? Follow me."
Below the deck was a mess hall, much larger than the physical dimensions of the boat. For James,
magical enlargement of smaller spaces was old news, but he grinned at the wondrous expression on
Lily's face as they stepped into the hall. Waiting here for them were Taureau and Fabian, and
Edgar ushered the two teens into the center of the hall. Everyone from the cabin had followed them
down here, probably hoping for something entertaining. Gideon was still munching away on his
apple.
"Neither of you are killers," said Edgar. "This is a good thing. Never forget that. However, you are
going to be fighting a lot of Death Eaters who do not share your morality. That doesn't mean they
cannot be beaten. It simply won't be done through the standard dueling method of pointing your
wand at someone and blasting them with jets of light - not when their jets of light can't be blocked,
while yours can. It means we have to be smarter."
"We already know how to duel," James said impatiently. "There are classes in school, and my dad
trained me a lot too."
Edgar shrugged simply. "Brilliant. Let's see what you're made of, then."
Their spectators grinned, and murmured excitedly as they filled in the hall, lining around the walls.
It felt like half the people on the boat had come to see some action.
"I'll test you right now," said Edgar, walking to one spot of the hall and pulling his wand out.
Lily and the others took the cue, and joined everyone else along the wall.
"Alright," said James, licking his lips. He took his place opposite Edgar and pulled his own wand
out.
"One moment, please," called John quickly, as though he'd remembered something. He waved his
wand a number of times, and a shield charm rose up all around the room, separating everyone lined
against the walls from the duel. James and Edgar were left alone in their own little bubble.
"Are you ready?" asked Edgar.
James nodded. "First we bow, right?"
"Death Eaters won't bow before they attack you, James. Just come at me however you like."
"Right." James eyed Edgar, noted the alertness in his eyes, the readiness in his stance. His wand
wasn't raised.
In a flash, James raised his own. "Stupefy"!
Red light streaked towards Edgar, but he simply weaved to the side and the spell dissipated into the
shield charm behind him. James pressed on, firing two more stunning spells, but Edgar dodged
them just as easily before returning fire. A jet of white light came at James and he stepped back,
but Edgar flicked his wand and when James' foot touched the ground it slid. He looked down to see
the planks of wood had frozen over. Two more jets of light shot at him while he was off balance,
and all he could do was slide some more, unable to regain his footing.
There was movement, and he looked up from the ice in time to see Edgar right in front of him.
"Petrificus Totalus," he said lazily.
James' body seized up, and he finally hit the ground, unable to move.
Everyone cheered, some clapped, and Edgar grinned down at James. "Everyone has room to
improve, James. Now get up. I'll give a proper demonstration."
He removed the body-bind curse and James stood, rubbing his back.
"Mr Barkley," Edgar called. Taureau raised an eyebrow from behind the shield. "If you would join
me, please. James, stand with the others. And watch carefully."
James walked dejectedly towards the left wall, where Lily stood with John and the Prewett
brothers. John flicked his wand and the shield charm lifted in one spot, just wide enough for James
to slip through and join them on the outside, then he flicked it again and the shield returned.
Lily slipped her arm through his. "That went well."
James glowered. "Shut it."
She sniggered and nudged him. "It wasn't that bad. Edgar used to be a hit-wizard, remember?"
"Yeah, cheer up, Potter," said Gideon, slinging an arm around his neck and pulling him in to rub a
fist on his scalp. "You weren't too rubbish."
James pushed him off and glared.
"Watch these two," Fabian told him. "You kids will learn a lot."
Taureau took James' spot, and Edgar returned to his. They each raised their wands.
James was expecting a light show, jets of light flying back and forth like the other duels he'd seen.
He was presented with something else entirely.
After a few seconds of both duelists staring at each other, not moving a muscle, Taureau moved
first. He made a curved gesture through the air with his wand, and from the tip erupted a blast of
fire, wide and large enough that it could have come right from a dragon's mouth. James couldn't
feel the heat behind the shield, but he could hear the roar. Edgar waved his wand in a circle, and a
wall of water rose before him, extinguishing the fire coming his way while the rest continued past
him and smothered the shield behind him. Smoke rose in the air before Edgar, and Taureau
squinted as his opponent was obscured.
But James could see him.
Edgar flicked his wand up then slashed it through the air. Planks of wood burst from the floor, then
bulleted towards Taureau like projectiles. He dodged the first two, then lost his patience and
jabbed with his wand. The remaining planks splintered and crumbled mid-flight, raining the floor
with debris.
"It's about fighting smarter," Fabian said quietly to James and Lily. "Fighting just as much with
your brain as with your wand. At the highest level, it's not all 'Stupefy, Expelliarmus' - use your
environment, be observant."
Edgar ran forward, bursting from the last of the dissipating smoke and pulling his wand through
the air. Red light crossed the short distance between the two, but just before it reached Taureau the
man batted it aside with his wand like he was playing cricket. It faded into the shield right where
James stood.
"The trick is to get close," said Fabian. "Spells don't chase people down. If you fire one from a
distance, your aim has to be dead on. That's why you see so many untrained duelists just standing in
one spot as curses pass by uselessly around them."
"Not to mention," said Gideon, "that when fighting from a distance, a Death Eater can just put up a
shield charm. And then what are we supposed to do?"
"Exactly," said Fabian. "Like I said, we fight smarter. Another advantage to getting close,
particularly in our case, is that if you're fighting multiple Death Eaters and they're firing killing
curse after killing curse at you, once you get into close quarters you'll find that they're much more
hesitant to use it, lest they hit their own side."
Edgar shot another jet of red light from his wand, and he was too close for Taureau to dodge it. The
man had a split second, and in that time he flicked his wand and the red light was transformed into
a short spurt of water. It splashed against his chest harmlessly, though the expensive looking black
jacket of his suit was soaked.
Edgar pressed his advantage, now almost face to face with his opponent. He batted Taureau's wand
hand aside with one hand, and flicked his own wand. They were so close James barely had time to
see a white flash from Edgar's wand, yet somehow Taureau reacted in time, ducking below a white
jet of light and dropping to the ground. Then, in a half crouch, he waved his wand in a complex
motion. A ball of light came out of it, and hung in the short space between the two men, pulsing in
the air as though it had a heartbeat.
James' eyes widened. He'd seen that spell before.
Edgar leaped back, widening the distance he'd worked so hard to bridge, and crossed his wand in
the air. More planks rose from the floor, forming a wall in front of him. The time between each
pulse of the ball of light was half a second apart, growing shorter. Taureau placed a shield charm in
front of himself just in time for the-
Explosion.
The air seemed to ripple, the shield charm protecting James and the others bulged as it tried to
contain the blast. Edgar was thrown backwards, his defense obliterated into little chunks of wood.
Even Taureau was pushed back a few steps.
The floor was ruined. The floorboards that Edgar hadn't summoned were blown apart by the
explosion, revealing the room the next level down. It was a smaller room filled with cannons and
supplies.
"Blasting holes in my ship," muttered John disapprovingly.
"That…" said Gideon, stunned, "That was deadly force. Right?
"Somehow I get the feeling he doesn't much care," said Fabian.
"So much for all that 'I am not your enemy' business," said Gideon.
Edgar groaned on the ground and sat up, only to find Taureau standing over him, his wand a hair's
breadth from Edgar's forehead.
"Alright, alright, I yield," he said, grimacing. "Even though you cheated."
"How so?" asked Taureau, putting his wand away.
"We agreed to no lethal force, didn't we?"
"That was not lethal force."
"Bone-breaking force, then. Whatever."

Taureau offered a hand. After a moment of looking at it, Edgar took it and was pulled to his feet.
He looked to James and Lily then, and nodded. "Alright. Well, it looks something like that, with
perhaps a few less explosions."
"And less damage to my ship," John grumbled.
"No promises on that front, mate," said Edgar cheerfully. He winked at James and Lily. "Now, let's
get you two up to scratch then, eh?"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Alice walked hand in hand with her boyfriend down the streets of Berlin. Kingsley was doing a
thorough search for any signs of resistance on the other side of the city. Alice and Frank weren't
exactly sure how one was supposed to go about looking for resistance, so they'd spent much of the
last week and a half sight-seeing. It was a beautiful city.
"Want ice cream?" asked Frank, pointing towards their favorite ice cream stand. Neither spoke
German, but chocolate had proven to be a universally recognizable word - with good reason.
"Sure," said Alice with a shrug. They had nothing else to do. Kingsley had booked two rooms in a
Muggle hotel - one for himself and the other for the two of them. It was a nice enough place but
they didn't like staying cooped up in the room all day, and neither knew how to operate a
television.
As they walked, they made sure to keep a wary eye out. Death Eaters were roaming the streets
freely here. It had been surreal and frightening for Alice to see faces she recognized from the
papers as wanted criminals wandering about the streets of Berlin at their own leisure. It kept her on
edge.
On the bright side, the Statute of Secrecy was still being honored by the Death Eaters. No magic
was done in the streets, in front of the Muggles, who walked these streets unaware that anything
was awry - oblivious to the immense danger they were all in at any given moment.
After grabbing ice cream, Alice and Frank entered wizarding Berlin. The entrance was hidden at
the end of a dark alley that was wedged between a closed bar and a shady looking restaurant. Alice
presumed Muggles were unable to see the alley. At the end of it Alice could make out a brick wall,
reminiscent of the entrance to Diagon Alley. Here however, they never reached the wall. The
closer they got to it, the fainter the shape became, until suddenly Alice blinked and they were no
longer standing in a dark alley but rather a bright, crowded, and bustling street.
Wizards and witches swarmed to and fro, carrying cauldrons full of shopping and wearing cloaks
or pointed hats out in the open.
Unfortunately, there were even more Death Eaters here. Some wore their masks, but the bulk
roamed about in black robes and cloaks, the only clue that they were Death Eaters being the
similarly self-satisfied, malicious looks on each of their faces.
The rest of the people skirted around them hurriedly, making no eye contact and not engaging
anyone wearing black. There were a few, either brave or foolish, who cast disdainful looks to
passing Death Eaters, who either didn't notice or didn't care enough to do anything about the
harmless gestures.
That was until an elderly wizard with a hunched back spat at a passing Death Eater, landing spit on
the side of the silver mask. The entire street seemed to freeze for a moment. The Death Eater
paused, touched the mask lightly, then looked at their finger… and pulled out their wand.
Movement broke out again as all the onlookers hurried into the shops or houses lining the street,
filling the air with the sound of doors being slammed shut.
The elderly wizard stayed where he was, glaring at the Death Eater defiantly. Twenty or so Death
Eaters remained on the street, and Alice and Frank watched, clueless as to what to do with
themselves
"That was a mistake," said the one that had been spat on. It was a man, his accent British.
The elderly man didn't say anything. He simply held his head high as he was surrounded by the
Death Eaters.
"It seems some people still need to learn their lesson," said another Death Eater, without a mask. It
was a sneering man with twisted features. "Luckily, we're more than happy to teach it… Cruci-"
"Stupefy," cried Alice. She knew her job required her to not attract attention, but she couldn't in
good conscience stand by and watch.
The maskless Death Eater was flung back and hit the ground. The rest of them whirled around and
stared at Alice and Frank for a moment.
"Um," said Frank, glancing at her, "now what?"
Before any of the Death Eaters could act, a figure emerged from the shadows right behind Alice.
"I like where your head is," came a light German accent. Alice flinched and glanced around. It was
a woman, perhaps in her twenties, with brown hair and calculative eyes. "But you must be smarter."
She waved her wand, and smoke filled the air, obscuring everything further than a meter around
Alice and Frank. The woman disappeared, and as jets of light started filling the air, some coming
dangerously close to the two, they looked at each other and started running back the way they'd
come.
Alice pointed her wand blindly behind herself as she and Frank sprinted back up the alleyway,
firing stunning spells and tripping jinxes, hoping the woman wouldn't get stuck in the crossfire.
She was relieved and surprised to see the woman somehow waiting for them at the entrance of the
alley, standing on the Muggle street. The old man was over her shoulder, banging a fist on her back
indignantly. She let him down and he scowled at her before hurrying away.
She nodded to Frank and Alice as they reached her. "You are English?" she asked shortly.
Alice nodded, panting a little. "Yes."
"You attacked a Death Eater. Are you here to help us?"
"We are," said Frank. "We've been sent by Dumbledore."
She looked between them for a moment, then nodded. "I will be in contact."
She turned then, and ran down the street, quickly being lost among the crowd. Alice looked at
Frank, and saw that he was just as mystified as she felt.
With sounds coming from the alleyway, they both remembered the need to escape, and started
hurrying the other way.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
When Remus woke up, he was surprised by how little anyone else seemed to care. Most of the
werewolves that had been sleeping around him were nowhere to be found, while the rest continued
snoring soundly. He looked around, only now bothering to get his was a plains that seemed to
stretch on forever in most directions, except for the east where he spied a surprisingly lush looking
forest. There was mostly dirt as far as he could see, with patches of grass spread sparsely over the
ground.
The pack was scattered across the plains. There seemed to be a variety of different groups, each
busy with their own activity. Remus looked around carefully, trying to spot Garzhand. He found
him sitting on some logs in a circle with some other werewolves, talking lightly.
Remus approached them, and Garzhand spotted him as he neared and gave him a friendly smile.
"My friends, this is Remus," he said. "He joined the pack last night."
The others, four of them, nodded in turn. Like the rest, their clothing was scarce, their bodies both
toned and dirty.
"How can I help you today, Remus?"
"Well," he hesitated, unsure how to phrase his query, "what exactly am I supposed to do?"
Garzhand looked amused. "Do? Feel free to do whatever you like."
"Right." Remus scratched his head. "But, what? What do you all, well what does a pack do all
day?"
"I get the feeling he has no clue what he's doing here, Garzhand," one of the others chuckled. He
was large, not freakishly so like Oimo and Darga, built more like Garzhand. Where Gharzhand had
the long hair, this one cropped his dark hair short - but there was a strikingly similar look in his
eyes, that of someone to be taken seriously
"I suppose not," said Garzhand, smiling faintly. "Remus, this is what werewolves living freely
looks like. I don't know what you had imagined, but we spend our days doing what we like. Hunt,
eat, sex, fight, sleep, no one cares. That's what the dream has always been."
"It took us a while to find this place," said the one who'd spoken before. "It's far, far away from any
prying eyes, situated right beside a thriving forest with plenty of food. We live in peace, and
flourish here."
"I can give you some suggestions, Remus," said Garzhand. "You can go out and hunt. Oimo and
Darga took out a hunting party in the early morning, and they usually return with fine prizes of
game. Or perhaps you'll want to sleep more - you have the look about you of one who does not get
very much rest."
"And you do?" Remus exclaimed. He didn't often… exclaim. It felt odd to him to be so animated,
yet here he felt different. There was no reason to hold back. "We're all werewolves. You should be
just as tired as me!"
"You've lived two lives ever since you were bitten, Remus," said Garzhand. "I see it in the bags
under your eyes. People like us do not belong in office spaces, or confined in the dormitories of
Hogwarts. Being a werewolf is not supposed to leave you perpetually exhausted - not if you do it
properly. And out there, in their world? You simply cannot do it properly."
"What…" Remus almost laughed, so exasperated and tired of being given answers that made no
sense. "What does that even mean?"
"Look, Remus." He pointed further down the plains, where Remus could make out a group
gathered of about twenty. "Meditation and exercise. You want to know how we handle being
werewolves so much better than you? Our transformation is a big part of our lives, and we go to
great lengths to make sure our bodies are capable of dealing with the strain of transforming, and
our minds are primed for it."
"Werewolves that meditate?" Remus said disbelievingly.
"Of course," said Garzhand. "My father is the instructor."
"Your father is part of the pack?"
The others laughed at that, and the one with shorter hair regarded Remus with amusement. "His
father created the pack. Many years ago. One of the greatest werewolves to ever live."
The rest of them nodded their agreement.
"Torza is right," said Garzhand. "Without my father, there would be no pack. Nor our way of
thinking. Go join his class, they've only just begun for the day. I think it will be of great value to
you."
Remus wasn't convinced, but he left Garzhand and Torza and the others to talk, or perhaps laugh at
him some more. As he approached the large group of werewolves, he scrutinized them closely.
They were stretching in synchronized, slow, precise movements. It looked more like a yoga or
martial arts class than anything else. He had to avert his eyes, however, as each of them bent
forward to place their hands on the ground - for many of them, the cloth around their midriffs was
not enough to conceal very much.
Before them all was a bald man with a grey beard, demonstrating each move before the rest of
them imitated him. He was tall. There was no curve in his back, no hunch. His shoulders were
broad, and grey hairs sprinkled a powerful, toned chest. He didn't look old, yet somehow Remus
understood that he really, really was. His eyes were that of a jungle cat's, the same as Garzhand and
Torza. Glimmering, with depth that conveyed many emotions.
"Hold," he called to the class as Remus reached them. They stayed bent over. Remus didn't look.
The man approached Remus and shook his hand. It wasn't too hard a grip, but Remus could tell that
if the man had wanted to, he would have no feeling left in his hand.
"Remus, right? My son said we might have a newcomer today. Welcome to Garzhand's pack. I am
Koza."
"Shouldn't it be Koza's pack?" Remus asked.
He laughed. "It was, once upon a time. But when you can no longer lead the hunt, neither may you
lead the pack. It has been some years since I reached that age, I think."
He didn't look it, Remus thought.
"Now, you are here to meditate, yes? Exercise."
"I suppose. I didn't know that was something werewolves do."

"It doesn't exactly match up with the public perception of us, does it? But this is actually a big part
of what we do. I imagine that after a full moon, your body aches, your mind reels?" Remus nodded.
"That is because you have not lived as a werewolf. You do not treat your body like that of a
werewolf's. These exercises are not my own creation. They are as old as werewolves themselves,
designed to stretch our bodies in the places the transformation affects us the most - including our
minds. Your joints, your pressure points, your blood flow, all of these things become honed to
prepare you for the full moon. Thousands of years of research from many cultures comes together
in this process."
Remus could only nod dumbly. "Okay."
"Go find a spot, Remus, and do as I do."
Remus walked quickly to the back of the group, and got into the same position as the others. At
least he had actual clothes on, torn and muddied as they were.
Koza stretched one leg in front of the other, hands raised high in the air. Remus copied the motion,
but it didn't feel right. It was too easy.
He heard a snigger.
The werewolf beside him was looking at him, amused by his efforts. It was a girl, with dark hair
that touched her shoulder blades and dark eyes that danced as she watched him. "You're doing it
wrong," she whispered.
Remus hesitated, then shifted his foot. "Like this?"
She sniggered again. "No."
He moved further. "This?"
"No." She glanced quickly towards Koza, before abandoning her stance and moving to Remus.
Like the rest of them, her clothing was scarce, with a cloth around her chest and tied at the back,
and the standard cloth around her midriff. Her skin, covered with dirt, was tanned, presumably
from spending every day in the sun.
She nudged his front leg with a bare foot, pushing his stance deeper. Then she nudged his back leg,
making it bend, and put her hands on his shoulders, twisted his posture. Now he actually faced the
front.
"Better," she said, scrutinizing her handiwork.
Remus offered a smile. "Thanks."
She nodded simply and returned to her stance.
Remus looked back to the front. After a few seconds, he puffed. Now that he was doing it right, it
bloody hurt.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Lily raised her wand, and at the other end of the hall Edgar did the same. Like with every duel over
the last few days, a shield charm separated onlookers lined against the walls from the duelists.
There were less of them hanging around now, but many still seemed entertained by the shows.
"Are you ready?" Edgar asked, as he did every time.
Now, however, Lily really felt like she was.
Without a word she waved her wand sharply and a stunning spell sped towards Edgar, who only
had enough time to tilt his head sideways, the spell missing his face by an inch. He laughed.
"Good!"
He ran forward then, already closing the space, and pointed his wand above her and waved it. Lily
looked up. Her eyes bulged.
A grand piano hovered in the air above her, wooden and looking very, very heavy.
"That's mine," John cried out from behind the shield. "It should be in my room!"
The piano began to drop, and Lily pointed her wand up and cast a vanishing charm. The piano
disappeared without a trace, but when she looked back down Edgar was even closer, already
waving his wand again.
She cast a shield charm between them, and the jet of light that came shooting from his wand was
bounced right back at him. Edgar had to drop as he ran, sliding along the ground for a moment
before leaping back to his feet.
He waved his wand in a fast, circular motion as he approached the shield charm, and Lily watched
as a hole was carved through the corporeal shield. Edgar leaped through it and rolled, jumped back
to his feet and stopped right before Lily. His wand was already raised, coming up to her face.
Before he could cast a spell, he frowned at her.
Lily was smiling.
Her wand was already pointed up. She undid the vanishing charm, and the grand piano was
suddenly back and bearing down upon them both quickly.
Edgar reacted instantly, jabbing his wand up and disintegrating the piano into pieces with one
motion. Chunks of wood and keys rained upon them both, but Lily ignored it all.
"Petrificus Totalus."
Edgar froze, a look of concentration still on his face, before falling backwards and hitting the
ground.
After a moment, the onlookers broke into frenzied cheering, mostly at Edgar's expense.
Gideon and Fabian broke from the shield, James coming with them.
"Congratulations," said Fabian.
Gideon stood over Edgar's limp body with a smug expression. "Beaten by Barkley the other day,
and now by Potter and Evans one after the other. Poor form, Bones."
"You two are ready," Fabian told them. "In only a few days you've picked up what most trained
Aurors spend their whole careers missing. It makes me wonder if we should have been training
Acustus this whole time too."
"I'm telling you, I can do all this already," Acustus said quickly, for what felt like the tenth time.
"Lily, your charm work is terrific," continuer Fabian, nodding appreciatively. "It's well past NEWT
level. Well past most levels, really. You have a rare knack for it. And James, the level of your
transfiguration is ridiculous - I'm not sure I can do half the things I've seen you do. I now have
every confidence that you both can hold your own."
Lily and James looked at each other, both beaming.
Gideon was also beaming, nudging Edgar with his foot and turning to the rest of them. "Anyone
have a camera?"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Millicent let Sirius and the others do more or less whatever they wanted. They couldn't see the
pack of werewolves from their campsite, and so didn't have very much to do. Millicent sent two of
them at a time to go further ahead and spy on the pack a little closer. They took it in shifts.
Currently it was Millicent and Peter's job, leaving Marlene, Johan, Helena, and Sirius to entertain
themselves at the campsite.
For Sirius, the arrangement was getting old fast.
He went for a walk in the opposite direction from the werewolves, to at least give himself
something to do. After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly, he came across Marlene lying atop a
patch of grass, gazing up at the sky.
It was afternoon, and the weather was pleasant. The air was calm. She looked at peace, and Sirius
couldn't stomach it. She had no right to be at peace after the turmoil she'd unleashed on him.
He marched up to her, blocking the sun and making her squint up at him.
"Can I help you?" she asked, sounding annoyed.
"We're going to talk about what you've done," he said fiercely.
"That sounds like a lot of fun," she said sarcastically. "Are you going to be a whiny child, as
usual?"
"Probably, yeah. Is that okay with you?"
He didn't expect her to shrug, or her lips to tilt upwards. But she surprised him. "Sure," she said.
He felt his anger fade at the sight, as quickly as it came. No matter how angry he was, he couldn't
hold onto it if she was smiling. He loved that smile so much. It made him happy. How was that
fair? How could his happiness be linked to hers, dependent on hers? How could he care so much,
while she seemed to care so little? At least, that's how she behaved - like she didn't care.
He sighed and dropped down beside her abruptly. "I need to know if you realize," he said, his
voice suddenly hollow, "what you're doing to me."
She looked surprised, and in that moment her peaceful visage cracked, betraying a troubled
expression. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. "It's not my intention, I promise you,"
she said, looking pained. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you."
"You love me," he said. It wasn't a statement at all. He needed to hear her say it.
She closed her eyes and looked away. "Stop."

"I need to hear it!"
"Please stop, Sirius. I'm trying to make the best of an absolutely shit situation. I went to see Will a
few days ago, and I had a good time. I can genuinely make it work, and love confessions don't help
when I'm trying to supress the way I feel about you-"
"But why? Why would you want to do that?"
"We're both Purebloods, you know exactly why! These sorts of decisions aren't in our own hands!
We're all signed off to be wed long before we even know about it. I'm sure there's some girl that
your parents tried forcing you with, right?"
"Sure," said Sirius. "The eldest Parkinson girl. Bratty and dumb. And does it look like I gave into
it?"
"No," said Marlene, "you ran away from home! Understandable, your family is evil. But that's not
something that I'm willing to do."
"If you loved me enough-"
"Well maybe I don't love you enough!"
Sirius froze. He regarded her blankly for a second, before the hurt seeped in.
"The way I've treated you is awful," she whispered. "I know that, and I've tried to minimize it but
you won't let me. I'm going to marry him no matter what. I won't disobey my parents. I won't
betray them like that. I wish you weren't hurt in the process, but you're so insistent on it."
"I can't change the way I feel," he spat.
"Then hide it," she cried. "Smother it! That's what I do!"
"And you intend to do that your whole married life?"
She didn't respond. After a few seconds he got up, shook his head, and walked away.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Remus quickly understood why they didn't wear clothes. His first day hunting, leaping through
trees and tearing past branches, had left him practically naked with what was left of his shoes, shirt,
and trousers. It was much more efficient to wear the simple, if scarce and revealing, cloths - not
least of all because once a month they all transformed. It made things much easier, and he figured
with his first full moon as part of the pack coming up in just over a week, he may as well get
accustomed to their way of doing things.
It was his second day of walking about wearing nothing but a cloth around his midriff. He thought
he'd hate it, and at first he had been embarrassed to death, but he soon began to feel an
unprecedented amount of freedom and power. It was natural to him, finally driving home the
feeling of being a beast in the wild. Getting over the embarrassment had been easy given how little
anyone else seemed to care about seeing naked bodies - and he felt as good as naked.
Wands and any important belongings were kept in the spot where the owner slept, wherever that
was. A surprising amount of them didn't have any wands or belongings at all, though. It was a
simple environment, and exactly what Remus wanted. Apart from the cold, especially at night, and
cutting his bare foot on a stray rock the previous morning, Remus had no complaints.
He was made to feel welcome by all. They mostly looked fearsome, but now that he was one of
them he was treated as a new friend. To be a part of a community of people just like him stoked a
fire within Remus he hadn't known was there. He felt like he was truly living. He felt like he
belonged.
After a day of hunting with Oimo and Darga, sporting a few rabbits he'd caught himself, Remus
carried his kills back towards the spot he'd called his own, where he had buried his wand and a bit
of loose change. It was in the midst of many other people's own spots, as he didn't fancy having to
walk to and from the main group, though plenty of more unsociable werewolves did.
As he walked, he saw her again. Dark hair, dark eyes. She sat cross legged in front of a fire. Remus
wondered if that was her spot.
He'd seen her at more exercise sessions since the first, but she hadn't looked his way again. Now
Remus steeled himself and walked over to her. He wasn't normally this brave, but he also wasn't
normally a lot of things, particularly half naked. There was only so much room for inhibitions now.
"Hi," said Remus, dropping his kills and sitting opposite her. "I'm Remus. I don't think I caught
your name."
"You definitely didn't catch my name." She always looked amused, like he was constantly doing
something stupid. "I never gave it to you."
"Erm… right." He decided to press on. "Well, what is it?"
"Eve," she said, looking even more amused. "Good to meet you, Remus."
He nodded quickly. "Yeah, good to meet-"
"You killed those?" she asked, pointing at the rabbits."
"Yes. Yes, I killed them." He hesitated. "You can have them, if you want."
She smiled wider. "How generous. But how about we share?"
Remus could only nod dumbly. He watched, mesmerized, as she pulled a wand from the cloth tied
around her chest. Then she looked him dead in the eyes and began to skin the rabbits. "You're
funny, Remus," she told him, not even glancing down at her handiwork.
"What's funny about me?" he asked. His throat was dry.
She shrugged. "Dunno."
Then she began to gut the rabbits, not breaking eye contact once.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"What is he wearing?" Peter whispered, not believing what the omnioculars were showing his eyes.
"The same as the rest," said Millicent. "He's doing a marvelous job of fitting in."
They watched from a long way away. Without the omnioculars the werewolves were specs on the
horizon, so they could be sure that the werewolves couldn't see them. The two lay belly down on
the dirt, watching.
Peter glanced at her. "Do you think maybe he's doing too good a job of fitting in?"
She looked at him, frowning. "You are one of his best friends, correct?"
"Uh, yes. I hope."
"He's certainly fitting in better than I thought he would. What do you think it means?"
Peter was surprised. He wasn't often asked what he thought. "I don't know," he said honestly. He
looked back through the omnioculars and chewed his lip. "I've just never seen him like this
before."
"Half naked?"
"Oh, no, you'd be surprised. No, I've never seen him so… free."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
It happened in an instant. One moment James was on his way to the mess hall for lunch, and the
next there was wind blasting his face, deafening and biting. The perfectly calm sea turned perilous,
foaming and smashing against the Chestnut's hull, spray raining upon them all. No, James realized,
that was actual rain. The clear pink sky had turned dark, the sun obscured by blankets of rumbling
grey clouds. After some seconds of drizzling, the rain turned into a torrent, like giant buckets in the
sky being unloaded upon them all.
James staggered as the ship swayed violently. He turned to John, who was running past. "What
happened?" he yelled, barely hearing himself over the rain and the tide.
John pointed up ahead, looking giddy with excitement. "Maelstrom!"
James stared, seeing a spot in the distance where the waves writhed about with the sort of violence
that only nature could procure. It was a vortex of foam, spinning around a gaping chasm.
James looked back to find that John had run off, issuing orders to the rest of the crew. He looked
for someone else to find answers from, and ran to Edgar, Gideon, and Fabian, who stood port side,
arms folded or leaning on the railings, watching the chaos unfold with an air of complete calm.
"Where did the maelstrom come from?" James asked frantically. "The ocean was fine a minute ago.
The sky was pink!"
"It means we're almost there," said Edgar. "The weather and the landscape in Limbo are
unpredictable and extremely volatile, and only grow more so the closer we are to the exit."
James thought that was the understatement of the century. Something in the water caught his eye,
and he stared. It was a wardrobe floating upon the surface, wooden and chipped, being tossed
about by the violent waves. There was more. A handbag, a chair, a dinner plate, all sorts of items
were being carried by the waves, seeming to come from the maelstrom.
He looked back at the other three, perplexed.
Fabian answered the unasked question. "Lost things. There are many entrances to Limbo, some
hidden, others appearing so quickly and infrequently that they've never even been discovered.
Limbo is very easily filled with rubbish."
James felt exhausted. "Do these other entrances involve maelstroms too?"
"No. Limbo very rarely takes the form of the ocean. That's what makes the Chestnut so unique,
there are very few ships like it. Most people have to take the boring ways in."
"Such as?"
Fabian shrugged. "Vanishing cabinets, hurricanes, the Dàochù train."
"I've taken the Dàochù train," James said, shaking his head and gazing towards the maelstrom
numbly. "I would choose it over all this in a heartbeat."
There was the sound of an explosion then, and James flinched and whirled around. "What now?"
John came running to join them at the railing and looked out at the sea. He grinned, and turned to
the rest of the crew. "It's The Champion, they've come for a fight! Let's show them what for, eh?"
The crew cheered, pumping fists in the air.
"Prepare the cannons," roared Coffer, the first mate.
They all began hurrying below deck. James and the others stayed at the railing. He gazed out, not
believing what he was seeing.
Another ship was approaching, as big as the Chestnut, with cannons protruding from the sides and
a flag flying above the sails, billowing in the wind - it had a skull and crossbones on it. He could
barely make out the people aboard, but saw eyepatches, peg legs, and golden teeth.
James turned and walked away. "I'm going to the mess hall for lunch," he called to Edgar, Fabian,
and Gideon. "Let me know when we leave Limbo. I think I've seen enough."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Frank, Alice, and Kingsley walked down a less populated Berlin street. It had been days since
they'd encountered the mysterious woman, and this morning Frank and Alice had found a note slid
under the door to their room. Only an address had been written on it. Frank reckoned it could have
been a trap, but Kingsley had reasoned that if the Death Eaters had wanted them dead they would
have long since been dead.
They came to the address written upon the note. It was a door at the end of a long line of doors,
likely an apartment complex. Kingsley knocked lightly, and they waited. After about a minute, the
door opened to reveal the woman. She stepped aside to let them in, her face unreadable, then closed
the door. She placed five charms upon it, and there was a click after each one.
When she seemed satisfied, she nodded, and led them down a hallway and into a sitting room. It
was large, with four long couches spread out and a wooden table in the middle. About fifteen
people looked around as they walked in, their faces nervous and worried.
None of them said a word.
"Hello," said Kingsley slowly. "My name is Kingsley. This is Frank and Alice. We have been sent
here by Albus Dumbledore."
The entire room seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief at the name of Hogwarts' Headmaster.
The woman's face was still unreadable. "How can we know you are telling the truth? You may be
Death Eaters."
"That sounds like a question you should have asked before you let us into the house," Kingsley
replied, looking amused. He looked around the room, seeming to size each person up. "This is the
only resistance against Death Eater forces in Berlin?"
After a few more seconds, the woman finally gave in and nodded. "Yes. This is all we have."
"Most of you are not fighters," Kingsley said, looking back at her. "If I had to guess, I would say
you were ministers and department heads in Huldrich Ehre's administration. Am I correct?"
She cast her eyes down. "You are. Anton Windstrum killed everyone else when the ministry fell.
We are all that is left."
"I see," said Kingsley. "What is your name?"
"Alina. Alina Möller."
"Who else speaks English here?" Kingsley asked.
A few hesitant hands rose.
"They are shaky," said Alina. "But they understand the basics."
"I assume you are the leader?"
"We don't really have one."
"I see." Kingsley looked around the room again, then glanced at her. "Ask them in German if they
want our help."
She did so, and there were quick nods all around.
"Brilliant. Tell them all that you are now their leader."
Alina looked at him for a few seconds, as if waiting for the punchline. When he stared at her
evenly, she turned back to the rest and spoke again in German. There were surprised looks from
most of them, some affronted, but Kingsley met the eyes of any who seemed unhappy and their
expressions gradually set.
"Now, what was your job in the previous administration?"
"I was the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
"Perfect. You're the new Minister for Magic."
"Excuse me?"
"We will say that Windstrum's appointment as Minister was unlawful, and that you are the rightful
leader. Of course, first we are going to kick the Death Eaters out of the country, then we'll handle
all the legal business. Now, my job is to get you all ready for the day our invasion force gets here."
"Invasion force?" she repeated. "Are you not aware of all the anti-apparition counter measures?"
"We already have a team working on that," Frank told her. "They'll disable Windstrum's spells."
"How?"
"They'll join us in Berlin and force him to disable it all," Alice said, smiling kindly. "They won't
fail."
"You don't understand," Alina said, frowning hard. "Windstrum betrayed the Death Eaters. It
happened weeks ago. He is wanted across the whole country."
"What?" said Kingsley sharply. "Where is he now?"
Alina shook her head. "No one knows."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Lily had resolutely refused to come out of the cabin during the storm, or the fight with the crew
of The Champion, or when John had apparently decided to steer the ship into the maelstrom just for
the fun of it while both crews fired charmed cannonballs right through the other ship. In fact, she
had refused to leave the cabin until well after the ship had come out of Limbo with that same head-
spinning, stomach churning sensation followed by a sudden stop. As wondrous a place as it was,
she much preferred the real world, where the sky was blue and the weather didn't change from
calm and sunny to a tropical storm in a matter of seconds.
The team of seven stood at the bow of the ship, looking ahead. They could see the coast of
Germany. Finally, after almost two weeks, they were here.
"It was good sailing with you all," said John.
The rest of the crew had gathered around them to see them off. Lily didn't want to be rude, but she
didn't reckon she would miss very much about this whole experience - apart from the views of the
pink sky and sea, which had admittedly been incredible.
Eventually they climbed into a rowboat, barely seating all seven of them, and John levitated it into
the sea. Lily suspected that it only held their weight with the help of magic.
Edgar cast a spell to propel the boat along the water, and Lily looked back at the Chestnut as it
slowly turned to sail the other way. Then she blinked, and found that the boat had disappeared
without a trace or sound, as if it had never really been there.
She turned back and looked towards the German coast. They were finally here. She could make
out the layout of the coast. It was a beach, sandy and idyllic. There were figures on the sand, but
they were only vague outlines.
Acustus was drumming his fingers on the side of the wooden boat. It was the beat of a popular
wizard song that Marlene sometimes played on the charmed radio in their dormitory.
"You're not bad at that," said Gideon, regarding Acustus with surprise. "You play the drums?"
"I took a few classes on the side while doing Auror training," said Acustus, looking self-conscious.
"I'm not great, and I haven't played in a while."
"Nonsense! Fabian and I have started a band, and we need a drummer. What do you say,
Proudfoot? You want to join our band?"
"This should be a group decision," Fabian muttered.
"But he's good, right?"
"He's alright."
"Don't listen to him, Proudfoot, you're brilliant. You'll join us, right? We're going to record our
album soon."
"Erm…" said Acustus.
Lily tuned them out and narrowed her eyes while looking at the figures. They were all clad in
black. They were wearing masks.
"Edgar…" she said.
"I see them. It looks like we've already lost the element of surprise."
"I think it's sweet of them to give us a welcoming party," said Gideon, rolling his shoulders back
and cracking his neck.
"How did they know we're here?" asked James.
"They can't have," said Edgar. "They must be stationed on the coast, just to guard it."
"So if we hurry," said Taureau, "we can incapacitate them all before they can send word of our
arrival."
Edgar glanced at him. "Non-lethal methods, Mr Barkley."
"Of course."
The boat was moving quickly. The closer they got to the shore, the more Lily suspected that
something was off. "They haven't noticed us," she realized. None of the Death Eaters were looking
their way. Most had their backs turned. It was a marvelous stroke of luck.
"Alright, team," said Edgar quietly. They were less than a hundred meters from the shore. "Quick
and precise. Don't let them cast a spell. Don't let them even touch their arms - they might be able to
communicate over long distances with the Dark Mark."
James frowned. "They can?"
"I don't know." Edgar looked at Taureau. "Can they?"
"I was never a Death Eater." They all kept looking at him. "Perhaps they can," he added.
Edgar nodded. "Don't let them touch their arms, team."
In a few seconds they would reach the shore. She could see clearly what was happening now.
There were ten Death Eaters, all masked, standing before an old, frightened looking lady wearing a
long pink coat. They seemed to be threatening her, or taunting her. Lily's blood boiled at the sight.
"Three," muttered Edgar.
The lady saw the boat approaching, eyes widening the slightest bit, before returning quickly to the
Death Eaters before her.
"Two."
Lily brought herself to a crouch, wand at the ready.
"Do we move on 'one' or on 'go'?" Acustus asked.

"On one," Fabian snapped.
"Okay."
"It's always one," said Gideon. "For future reference."
"Okay."
"Surely we're at one by now," James muttered.
"I started counting too early," said Edgar quietly. "Hold on."
Lily locked her eyes on the first one she would target. It was one of the taller ones, leaning closely
to the old lady and twirling a wand threateningly.
"Edgar?" said Gideon.
"Not yet."
"Edgar, they're going to see us soon."
"A little closer."
"How much closer do we need to-"
"One!"
The boat hit sand roughly, the back lifted into the air, and Lily leaped with the others off the boat
and onto the sand, sprinting towards the Death Eaters.
Taureau and the Prewett brothers were already waving their wands, and Lily pointed hers at her
target and cast a body-bind curse. The Death Eater stiffened and fell forwards onto their face. The
lady leaped out of the way spryly, and launched a graceful kick into the side of another Death
Eater, showcasing perfect balance.
Lily turned her attention to one of the enemies whirling around. The Death Eater waved their wand
in the motion of a shield charm, so instead of shooting a spell Lily pointed her wand at the sand
beneath her enemy's feet. It turned mushy, and the Death Eater sank a little, grunting in surprise,
and then it turned essentially into liquid and the Death Eater quickly sank the rest of the way, right
up to their neck. Lily waved her wand and the sand hardened again, leaving the Death Eater almost
buried.
Around her, the rest were all putting the finishing touches on their enemies. She looked in time to
catch James turning a Death Eater's wand hand into a crab's pincer, making the masked figure yell
and inadvertently snap their wand in half - a brilliant piece of human transfiguration. James then
stunned the distraught Death Eater, sending them flying.
With that there was stillness, seeming out of place after the sudden burst of violence and the
abundance of adrenaline suddenly coursing through Lily.
"Oh, bless your souls for you help," said the old lady, beaming gratefully at the seven of them. "I
was trying to leave this horrid country but these Death Eaters wouldn't let me." Her accent was
British. "Might I use your rowing boat? It would be awfully kind of you."
She started walking to it. Taureau and Edgar looked at each other, and raised their wands.
"Not another step," said Taureau.
She turned, and looked alarmed to see their wands. "My goodness, there's no need for that! Is it
money you want? I'm more than happy to pay you for the boat!"
"What made you speak to us in English?" asked Edgar, head tilted. "This is a foreign country, after
all."
She looked confused. "You sailed here, did you not? Then you had to come from somewhere, and
I'm afraid I don't speak any other languages."
"You seemed very confident that we understood you," said Taureau.
"I think you know us," said Edgar, narrowing his eyes. "Clearly you're no friend to the Death
Eaters, but if you truly know us and won't reveal who you are, that means you're no friend of ours
either."
"No friend of yours?" she repeated, looking like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Look
at me!" She gestured downwards at herself. "Could I possibly be your enemy?"
"You are either hiding your appearance with magic," said Edgar, "or you are the most athletic old
lady I've seen in my life."
"I take Tai Chi classes on Thursdays-" she started.
"Remove the disguise," said Taureau. "We will not ask again."
She pursed her lips, then stood a little straight. "Alright. But you all have to promise not to kill
me."
"Reveal yourself, and then we'll decide," said Taureau.
Edgar glanced once again at Taureau. "We won't kill you," he told the lady. "Reveal yourself."
She sighed, standing straighter and taller. "If you insist. Though I must ask that you all remain
calm." She pulled at her pink dress, ripping it right off. She wore muddied boots and trousers
beneath it, and a black t-shirt. Her left hand had a glove over it, and when she pulled it off she
revealed her hand was wooden. In fact most of her left forearm was prosthetic, all the way up until
just before her elbow. The skin that met the wood was red and blotchy. She raised her wooden
hand to her temple, and it glowed. Lily's eyes widened. Her hand was being used like a wand -
there must have been a wand core put into the wood. Her visage seemed to melt away, hair and
skin rippling and changing until a handsome man with blonde hair and the eyes of someone about
to tell a joke stood there, smiling at the seven of them like they were all old friends.
"Before you just kill me anyway," he said, raising his hands in the air slowly, making sure to keep
the palm of the wooden one facing away from them all, "you might want to let me talk first."
Anton Windstrum somehow managed to look smug, sheepish, and deeply amused all at the same
time. "I know a few things that you might find extremely helpful."
War, Act II: Light in the Dark
Part Four - The Dead Speak
Sand blew across the German beach, stinging James' eyes and face, but he took no notice.
Anton Windstrum stood before them, and if it weren't for his hands raised in peaceful surrender,
one would see his relaxed, devilish grin and think they were all good friends.
This man was the reason James had no parents, and he stood there smiling at the seven of them.
"I'm going to kill him," snarled Taureau, wand held aloft with deathly stillness.
"Hold on," murmured Edgar.
"I will not hold on!"
"I think you should hold on," said Anton.
"You need to shut up right now," Edgar said roughly, his own wand also trained on the man. He
turned back to Taureau. "We need him alive."
"To turn the anti-apparition jinx off?"
"Yes."
"Killing him will turn it off anyway."
There was a pause. The Prewett brothers both looked at Edgar. "That is a very good point," said
Gideon.
"It actually isn't," said Anton. They all turned back to him irritably, and his smile grew wider. "You
have no idea what means I am using to block apparition into Germany. What if you kill me, and
nothing changes? You will be clueless as to what to do next, and you will wish so dearly that you
had listened to what dear old Anton had to say."
"And what have you to say?" asked Fabian, folding his arms.
"Many things. First of all," he gestured lightly towards them, "good to see you all. You're each
looking better than the last time I saw you, which can only mean I've left a positive impact on your
lives-"
Taureau stormed forwards and pressed his wand to the base of Anton's throat. "Get to the point."
Anton's eyes glittered. "Hello, Taureau. Look at you, eh? One of the good guys now."
"I would really stop provoking him, Anton," said Gideon. "He only came with us for the chance to
kill you."
"But he makes it so much fun," said Anton softly, looking the man dead in the eye.
Taureau growled.
"I've changed my mind," said Edgar. "Taureau, kill him."

"I'm joking," cried Anton, laughing. "Relax, all of you! Good lord, you lot have gotten boring." He
shook his head. "I am willing to cut you a deal. I'll tell you how to turn the jinx off. In exchange,
you let me go free. All I want to do is leave the country."
"Why?" asked James quietly.
Anton looked at him, and paused. For a brief moment, he looked abashed. "James… your parents
were good people-"
"Every question we ask you," said Taureau, pressing his wand harder against Anton's throat, "you
had better answer with swiftness and precision."
"Why do I want to leave the country?" Anton looked back at the others, once again smug and
aloof. "That's my business. Your business, I presume, is to get to the capital and turn off the jinx.
I'll tell you how to do both, provided you let me go."
"How do we know you won't lie?" piped up Acustus.
Anton tilted his head. "Who are you? Have we met before?"
"Swiftness and precision," Taureau repeated between barred teeth, digging his wand further still.
Anton grimaced. "Right you are." His voice was strained now, and pained. He eyed the wand
carefully. "I have an idea. I'll give you part of the information upfront - I'll tell you the fastest way
to Berlin from here, as a show of good faith. Then you let me hop in that little rowboat over there, I
start rowing away, and when I'm far enough out I'll call to you how to turn the jinx off. How does
that sound?"
Taureau looked at them all. "I will not let you accept that. I am only here to kill this man, if you let
him sail off then I have wasted my time and my only opportunity."
"Not necessarily," said Lily. They all looked at her. "You can still chase him once he starts rowing
off, and the rest of us will go on to Berlin."
Edgar inclined his head at Taureau. "That works for everyone, right?"
"I don't like it."
"Works for me," chipped in Anton.
Taureau growled.
"It is the only way we all get what we want." Taureau nodded slowly, reluctantly. Edgar looked
back at Anton. "Tell us."
"It's quite simple, really," said Anton. "We are on the coast of Hamburg right now. There is a train
running to Berlin from here that will take a matter of hours. There, see? Now I've given you the
first half of the information." He lowered his hands, keeping the prosthetic wooden one facing
away from them all. He started creeping to the rowboat. "I'll give you the second half in a little bit,
okay? Nice and easy."
They all watched him approach the boat.
"Can we really trust him?" James muttered.
Edgar snorted. "Not at all. I just want to mess with him a bit."
Anton reached the boat, turned to give them a thumbs up and an encouraging smile. Edgar smiled
back, flicked his wand, and Anton flew backwards. He hit the wet sand face first, then lay still.
"We're taking him with us," said Edgar. "Once we reach Berlin we'll have turned off the jinx, and
then you, Mr Barkley, are free to do whatever you wish with him. Is that acceptable?"
"It is," said Taureau, nodding.
"You cheated," Anton called, his voice muffled as he laid facedown, body unmoving.
Gideon and Fabian walked to him and hauled him up. "Come on then, Windstrum," said Gideon.
"Let's get going."
His body was limp but for his sandy face, and he looked murderous. "You lied to me."
"And you killed some very good friends of ours," Edgar said evenly. "Now let's catch this train."
"No, no," said Anton, sighing. "The train is a trap, the Death Eaters will be waiting for you in the
hundreds."
They all looked at him, glaring.
"What, you really trusted me? Merlin's beard, no wonder you're losing the war. No, there's a better
way to Berlin from here. Much longer, mind. About a week's walk. But considerably less
dangerous."
"What is it?" asked Acustus cautiously.
Anton smiled as he was held aloft by the Prewett brothers. "Tal der Toten."
"Tal der what now?" asked Lily, frowning.
His smile grew forced, betraying the slightest bit of trepidation. "The Valley of the Dead."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Remus had been with the encampment of werewolves for almost a week. They woke up early each
day, went hunting, ate, exercised, hunted, ate again, then slept. There was very little variety. Remus
reckoned he would have been bored to death if it weren't for Eve.
She was the first female werewolf he'd encountered, as well as the only one his own age. He had
fallen for her impossibly quickly. She was so intensely free-spirited, so confident, so content.
Everything Remus longed to be.
He found himself irresistibly drawn to her. She was thrilling to be around, making his heart pound
to the pace of a galloping horse, and he could never look away. She was addictive.
"You stare at me a lot," she said bluntly.
Remus blinked. "I- what?" They sat on some rocks, by a river trickling through the forest. The
trees were sparse here, and the sun felt like it was trying to cook them. The water's shimmering
surface rippled as they kicked their feet in it, cooling themselves off. It had the sheen of a million
precious gems, spectacular, and Remus still couldn't look away from her.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's like there's something on my face, but all the time."
Remus didn't know what to say. Her head tilted as she looked at him. Her face was angular, with
high cheekbones and a button nose that twitched when she sniffed. Her eyes were black, the kind
Remus could easily be lost in, and her dark hair curled at the ends. She was sleek and beautiful,
despite the dirt that covered her whole body, like a flower in the-
"You're doing it again."
"Right. Sorry." Remus looked away, focusing instead on the river.
"Is there something on my face, Remus?"
"No."
"Then-"
"You're just… pretty, alright?"
She looked at him for a moment, expressionless. Then she smiled and joined him in gazing out at
the water. "Hmm."
"What?"
"I almost forgot what receiving a compliment feels like. One doesn't get very many out here."
Remus frowned. He glanced at her, voiced a question he'd pondered often these last few days.
"Eve, how long have you been here? You can't be any older than me."
She gazed into the depths of the water, and her eyes looked distant. "Just over five years, now. I
was only eleven, and I needed a place to stay. A place to belong. Pureblood parents don't take
kindly to their daughter becoming a werewolf."
There was pain in her voice, faint but unmistakable to Remus, like a coin someone had tried to bury
in the dirt but still gleamed in the sunlight.
"I'm so sorry," he said, having no better words.
She smiled at him again, faintly, before getting to her feet. "I'm going to take a nap."
"Oh." He nodded dumbly. "Okay."
She walked back to the trees, and was quickly lost. He cursed to himself quietly. If I'm so
sorry was the best he could do, he was hopeless. He should have reached out to hold her - that was
his chance.
"Next time," he told himself, shaking his head in annoyance. "Idiot."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Lily didn't know what to expect. She looked to the horizon as they walked, not seeing a sign of any
kind of valley, and feeling doubtful of Windstrum's directions.
"The Valley of the Dead isn't an actual valley," Fabian told her, as she squinted once more toward
the distance. The eight of them trekked across a plains with very little else in sight in any direction.
"It's a metaphor. To the left side, our existence before life. A state of nothingness that is even more
numb and empty than death, yet with the promise of living to come. To the right, our existence
after life. It is concerned with bodies, and souls. Happiness, regret. It is the unknown, and the
unknowable. The great mystery. Together, they form a valley."
"Tal der Toten," said Gideon. The unhappy look on his face conveyed that he was familiar with it.
"Now, I've seen maps of Germany," said Acustus, joining them and matching their pace. "This
doesn't make sense. There are Muggle roads and towns in the way between Hamburg and Berlin,
how could they possibly intersect with the Valley of the Dead?"
"They don't," called Anton. He walked well behind them, dragging his feet and looking bored.
"The principle is the same as with Diagon Alley. There shouldn't physically be enough space for
the valley, but there is. There is so much more than that."
Edgar had forced Anton to put the glove back over his wooden hand before they'd started
travelling. He then cast a charm on the glove Lily had never heard of before, effectively
neutralizing whatever wand core was in the wooden hand as long as the glove was on. He cast
another charm, making it impossible for Anton to pull off the glove until the charm was undone.
Anton essentially had no magic.
"Walk faster," grunted Taureau, kicking Anton in the back. Anton stumbled, almost fell. He glared
at Taureau, and quickened his pace.
"It would be easier if you let me take my glove off," Anton grumbled.
Edgar, walking a little ahead of them all, stopped and turned back. "I'd love to hear you explain
why a glove would slow down your walking, Anton."
"My hand is itching and I can't scratch it. It's distracting me."
"Oh, you poor thing," Edgar mocked.
"I actually do think that would be quite annoying," Gideon muttered to Lily.
She shook her head.
"We're not taking the glove off, Professor," said James venomously.
Anton shrugged. "Worth a shot."
"I'm sure it was," said Edgar, turning away.
"Imagine if you really fell for it, though," said Anton, laughing as they all started walking once
more. "Ahh, you'd all be dead."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Rabastan Lestrange waited at the edge of the forest, leaning against a tree. It was a little past
midnight, and the last of those filthy werewolves had fallen asleep. Before long, a figure came
ambling towards him. It was one of the bigger ones, yet Rabastan regarded the creature like he was
twice its size.
"Well?" he demanded, once the werewolf was close enough.
"I am trying," said the werewolf. "But the rest of them want nothing to do with war. They are
cowards and fools."
"This I knew already," said Rabastan impatiently. "I had hoped you would have done something
about it by now. I do not have time to keep checking in on you. Things in Berlin are getting very
serious. We are assembling an army to storm all of Great Britain. It is imperative that Garzhand's
pack join us as soon as possible."
"I will do my best."
"Will you? What were you doing up until now, I wonder?"
"I-"
"No matter." Rabastan pushed himself off the tree and prepared to apparate back to the German
border. "Convince them. Coerce them. Whatever you have to do. I want a werewolf regiment in our
army before the next full moon."
"But that's barely over a week away!"
Rabastan regarded the creature contemptuously. "Then you had best get to work, hadn't you?"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
In the late evening they came upon a town, an incredible relief to see after days on the road with no
reprieve in sight. It wasn't very large, less than half the size of Hogsmeade, and it looked like the
townsfolk were all Muggles.
"We'll stay the night here," said Edgar, looking around shrewdly as they walked the street. The few
people on the street smiled and greeted them excitedly as they passed. James suspected they didn't
get very many visitors.
"Excuse me," said Edgar to a passing man with a large belly, "is there any sort of inn that could
accommodate my friends and I for the night?"
"'Course," said the man in perfect English, laughing like it was a silly question. He pointed further
on. "Coller's Tavern, you'll get a nice meal and a good night's rest."
Edgar thanked him and they approached the tavern. Laughter could be heard from outside, and the
smell of something exquisite reached James' nostrils. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was,
nor could he remember his last good meal. Inside, the tavern was well lit, with beautiful lanterns
hanging from the ceiling. Most tables were full, which was always a good sign. There were two
empty ones by the bar counter, and the eight of them set themselves down into a circle, pushing the
tables together.
A young lady with bright eyes and a white apron approached them, beaming. "Welcome to Coller's
Tavern! How can we help you tonight?"
"Hello, love," said Gideon, leaning forward casually.
"Here we go," muttered Fabian.
"The eight of us need some rooms to stay the night," said Gideon, his voice low and smooth,
trickling from his lips like honey. "I understand if you don't have eight rooms available at the last
moment like this-"
"We do," the lady said promptly.
"You do?"
"Of course! And would you like dinner tonight as well?"
"Yeah," said Gideon, looking surprised at his own success. "Yeah, brilliant. Could we see a menu,
please?"
"Coming right up! Though I suggest the chef's special." She leaned in like she was telling a big
secret. "I'm the chef!"
"Wow," said Gideon. "How lucky for us. What is the chef's special?"
"Beef soup, cooked in our finest wine and served with the freshest bread, only came out the oven
an hour ago."
"Good lord, woman," said Gideon, wiping his forehead. He looked around the table, saw the
watering mouths and longing faces. "I reckon we'll get eight of those, please."
"Coming right up!"
She bustled away, and Gideon looked at the rest of them. "Merlin's beard, this is exactly what I
needed. It'll really take the edge off all the traveling."
"I suppose so," said Fabian, cracking his neck. "We've earned a good rest."
"That's one hell of an understatement," said Acustus, letting out a contented sigh as he leaned back
in his seat and gazed around the room. People at the other tables laughed and chatted with the kind
of white noise that James had been missing these last few weeks. He hadn't even realized how
much he'd longed for civilization until now.
He looked at Lily. Her eyes were tired, just as tired as James felt, but she also looked relieved to
finally be able to relax.
"You alright?" he asked quietly.
She offered a smile. "Yeah. You?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
He looked to the rest of them. Edgar, Taureau, and Anton hadn't said a word in all this. They
looked around the room quietly, as alert as ever. James wondered if they ever really let their guard
down.
Before long the lady returned with trays laden with bowls of soup.
James' stomach growled in anticipation, and once the trays were set down he wasted no time in
digging in.
It was delicious. It could have been mediocre and he would have loved it, but it truly was above
and beyond. He finished his bowl, and looked at the others.
"You going to finish that?" he asked Edgar, whose bowl was almost untouched.
"We should get going," Edgar responded quietly.
"What?"
"Something is wrong," added Taureau. James saw his confusion reflected in those aviator
sunglasses. The others also looked perplexed. He shook his head. "What?" he said again.
"All this isn't real, James," Anton told him, gesturing around.
"Of course it is, what do you mean?"
"How was your meal? Good?"
"Fantastic."
"Okay. Now focus. Are you still hungry?"
James paused. He was starving. Like he hadn't eaten anything at all.
"We should go," said Edgar again. He stood, and every head in the room turned to the eight of
them. The chatter died instantly. The other diners didn't look friendly anymore.
"You're leaving?" the lady asked, hurrying back to the table. "But you haven't finished your
meals!"
"Sorry, love," said Gideon, frowning at his bowl and setting it down. "I get the feeling you've been
lying to us."
"You cannot leave," she snapped, her voice suddenly raspy. She grabbed Gideon by the wrist and
he screamed, pulled his arm free. There were marks on his wrist where her fingers had been, ugly
and red, like burns.
"Wraiths," shouted Fabian, throwing his bowl aside and leaping from his seat. When the bowl hit
the floor, instead of smashing it simply vanished, leaving no trace that it had never existed.
"Let's go, let's go," roared Edgar, gesturing for them all to get up.
James leaped to his feet. All around the room, the friendly townsfolk were… changing. The lady
smiled wickedly, as her skin turned waxy white, her teeth yellow. Her eyes leaked out of their
sockets, a white goo that dripped down her cheeks, and only two faint red lights were left in those
now dark abysses. The rest of the townsfolk were the same, their friendly smiles now sinister as
they all ambled closer. Each wraith was a different height, different size, but the features were all
the same. The malicious, hungry eyes were all the same.
Their way to the exit was blocked by the creatures, and the rest, too many to count, had them
quickly surrounded.
"Copy me," said Edgar quickly. He pointed his wand up high and shouted, "Lumos!"
Bright light, blinding, poured from the tip of his wand. The wraiths shrieked, covering their eyes
and cowering back. Items around the room, like plates and tables, flickered, or even disappeared
altogether.
"They're creatures of darkness," Anton explained, raising his right hand before seeming to
remember that his magic was blocked by the glove. "They have no power in the light."
"But there's light in this room already," cried Acustus, gesturing to the lanterns above but pulling
his wand out all the same.
"It is all fake," said Taureau, raising his own wand. "An illusion."
Soon, seven of them all had their wands raised, Anton standing close by Edgar. The wraiths
shrieked and screamed, but their shrieks grew softer, their forms fainter. The whole room melted
away, the rest of the town going with it. Slowly, the wraiths began to disappear too, fading into the
air with frustrated screeches, until it was just the eight of them standing close together, wands
raised. They were back on the plains, without any sign of the town around them. Once again there
was nothing on the horizon in any direction.
"They're still here," said Anton. "They just can't affect us anymore."
"I think they reside here," said Edgar, scrutinizing their surroundings closely. James couldn't see
anything of interest. "They must have been real people, once. I can barely begin to guess what
happened to them. We cannot stay here, we have to keep moving. Eventually they'll give up on us
and return here once more."
They started walking again, slowly, cautiously.
"Keep your wands lit," Anton cautioned. "It's the only defence."
Taureau nodded. "A little light will always keep the darkness at bay, but let it out for even a
moment and you will be overwhelmed and consumed."
They began to walk in that fashion, wands raised, eyes wide, hearts pounding, not daring to relax
for a second.
It was a long night.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
For Frank, Alice, and Kingsley, the last week had been quiet, the dangerous kind that one never
knew quite what to make of. After discovering the house full of those precious few resisting the
Death Eater administration in Berlin, sixteen in all, with scarcely any fighters among them, they
had established that house as their headquarters. Since then, the mission for all of them was to
recruit more. As many more as possible.
"When our covert team enables apparition into Germany once more," Kingsley had told them all at
the first official briefing, as they stood around a chipped wooden table in the sitting room, "our
invasion force will arrive, and together we will take back Germany. However, on that day we will
be needed. Our invasion force will be outnumbered, no matter how much support they rally, and it
is essential that when they apparate in we are ready, and we are as numerous as possible. Go out,
recruit as many able bodied witches and wizards as you can. That is our one and only mission for
now."
Frank and Alice once again found themselves walking the streets of Berlin, looking for any more
resistance in hiding.
"How are we supposed to find resistance in hiding," Frank complained to his girlfriend, "if they're
all hiding?"
It wasn't the first time he'd voiced this concern, and nor was it the first time Alice shrugged
helplessly in response. "I have no clue."
The streets were still crowded. The Muggles continued to roam about without a care in the world.
The wizards and witches could be spotted by the fear on their faces, the quickness in their step, the
involuntary shudders when a figure in a black cloak walked past.
The latter happened now. Beside Frank and Alice, two men in black cloaks strolled past, wands
tucked into their belts with no attempt being made to hide them.
The teens moved to the side and averted their eyes so as to not attract attention, but they were close
enough to pick up on the conversation between the two men.
"-and they say it will happen within the next week," said one.
"A week?" said the other. "Can we really muster an army that quickly?"
"We already have, haven't we?"
"But surely it's not yet big enough to march upon England. They have the most powerful magical
community in the world! Moody, Dumbledore, Crouch-"
"Nothing compared to the Dark Lord," spat the first. "According to Artem, our army here in Berlin
is projected to be the largest magical military force since before the Statute of Secrecy!"
The two Death Eaters continued their stroll, but Frank and Alice slowed, their faces portraying
identical alarm. Though the enemy clearly didn't know that British Aurors were being rallied as
they spoke, the teens' worst fear had been confirmed - the Death Eaters were raising their own
army.
It had become a race to see who invaded first.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Remus would see Garzhand, Torza, and various other werewolves talking often, sitting on logs of
wood arranged in a circle, clearly having a meeting. It was never a closed meeting. Other
werewolves would often gather around them, listening intently, though external input didn't seem
to be welcome.
Tonight, as most werewolves slept beneath the stars, one such meeting was taking place. A small
handful of others stood outside the circle, listening quietly. Remus saw that Eve was one of those
spectators, and it was like his legs had a mind of their own. Soon he stood right beside her, joining
her in watching the meeting. She offered him a smile, and he smiled back, the sort of smile he
hoped conveyed that he was here because he wanted to listen, and not just because she was here
too
"-I think it would be of great benefit to us," said Torza. The man seemed to be Garzhand's number
two, and apparently his cousin. The two did share a striking resemblance, with their large frames
and gleaming eyes belonging more to a jungle cat than a person.
"We will not fight a human war," said Garzhand, shaking his head. "No matter what side it is. The
pack will not be a tool for them to wield when needed and discard when not."
"I agree with you absolutely," said Torza. "That is why I am not proposing we side with the British
Ministry. They have never done a thing for us, and never will. Rabastan Lestrange, however, is
offering us a place at their table."
"And why should we be any more inclined to trust the Death Eaters?" spoke up Koza. All eyes
turned to the old man, father of Garzhand and uncle to Torza. "What reason have they given us to
trust them? The humans call us half-breeds, they have hunted us for sport for centuries. If we help
these Death Eaters, they will return us to the status quo if we win, which does not work, or happily
let us rot in cells if we lose."
"Garzhand," said Torza, turning to his cousin, "this could be an opportunity to usher the pack into a
new era. A catalyst leading to equality for werewolves one day in the future. A chance to improve
the quality of life for our kind for all the years to come. That is how Garzhand's pack could one day
be remembered."
Garzhand looked at his cousin for a few seconds, his sharp eyes focussed and calculating.
Deliberating.
"A beautiful dream," said Koza, nodding. "But a dream nonetheless. I know humans very, very
well. Well enough that I came to the conclusion long ago that werewolves exist most happily in
isolation from the rest of the world. That is why we are here. That is why we are thriving. Joining
an army will lose us precious lives, and the outcome will be meaningless. Another selfish
administration of selfish humans who care not for anything that they cannot see, hear, or touch, as
it does not affect them personally. This is a bad idea."
Garzhand glanced quickly at his father, and whether or not this was what he had been thinking
already was impossible for Remus to decipher. He nodded shortly and looked back at his cousin.
"We will not accept their offer, Torza."
Torza gave the impression of someone who longed to grit their teeth and yell, but a smile found his
face instead and he shrugged. "Alright. It makes no difference to me, really."
"Good-"
"Although if I may make one more suggestion," continued Torza. Garzhand paused, and raised an
eyebrow. "We are a week's walk from Germany. Now, Oimo and Darga report that there is less
game to hunt this season, correct? What if we approach the border to Germany, just for a change of
scenery? I am not sure what, but something big is happening in Berlin right now. Ideally we won't
get involved in the slightest, but if we're close at hand when the time comes? Should we be
needed? We'll be perfectly placed to offer assistance, make our presence felt. Maybe we won't help
at all, but we will at least have the option."
Garzhand tilted his head. If he glanced at his father he would have seen a disapproving frown, but
he didn't. "That," said Garzhand, "is a good idea. Harmless, with potential reward."
It was decided, then, that the pack would once again be traveling. The conversation moved to other
points of concern, but Remus stopped listening. Only now did he remember that he was here on a
mission of his own - and after hearing all that, it seemed impossible.
How was he supposed to get them to fight for his side?
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"The Valley of the Dead," repeated Sirius, frowning. In his hands he held a two-way mirror which,
rather than showing Sirius his own reflection, held instead the face of James upon its surface, who
had the mirror's counterpart. Sirius sat under a tree, not far from the campfire where the others
lounged about. A spell had been cast on the fire, making the smoke it gave off invisible to the eye
so as to not give away their location to the encampment of werewolves a few kilometers away.
The werewolves had started travelling again, for no apparent reason. Following them without
being spotted was a difficult task, and Sirius and the others were grateful whenever the werewolves
halted at the end of the day to rest.
"Yeah," said James. "Spooky business, mate. The things I've seen-" There was whispering on the
other end. "No, I haven't told him about the wraiths yet."
"Hi, Lily," Sirius said loudly.
"Hi," whispered back the voice of Lily Evans.
"The others are sleeping right now," explained James, his face growing bigger as he leaned closer
to his mirror. "We have early mornings, because we actually have a job to do."
"Oi," said Sirous reproachfully. "Our job is important. If something goes wrong on Remus' end
we're his only backup."
"If you could swap with us, would you?"
"In a heartbeat."
James laughed.
"Hey, tell me you brought your deluminator with you," said Sirius suddenly. It had been a year
since the boys had last used their deluminators, back in Diagon Alley. A year since their first real
skirmish with Death Eaters. The two deluminators, the boys' replication of another model they had
found in Dumbledore's office years ago, allowed the holder of one to apparate to wherever the
holder of the other was. Most notable was that it ignored anti-apparition jinxes. It was a
remarkable piece of magic that they rarely had any use for, and though Sirius kept his own on his
person now simply out of habit, it had occurred to him the other night what brilliant applications
they could have given the current political climate.
James' eyes widened. "Oh, mate."
"Yeah?" said Sirius hopefully. "You packed it in your bags?"
"I did," said James, nodding slowly.
Sirius waited. When James said nothing more, he had to prompt him. "So you have it?"
"Oh, mate," James said again. "We, er… we jumped out of the plane. And, well, we didn't take our
bags with us."
"Why did you jump out of-" Sirius stopped himself. "That's fine. The deluminator is at least in
Germany, right? That means we can already apparate an army in."
"We jumped out because we learned Death Eaters were waiting for us at the Berlin airport. I
imagine they searched our bags when the plane reached without us on it. You…" James'
expression was pained, "You should probably destroy the deluminator, Padfoot. They might figure
out how to use my one. It could jeopardize everything."
Sirius stared at his absolute idiot of a best friend. "You utter moron."
James nodded sheepishly.
"All those hours we put into these things…"
"Yep."
"And now I have to destroy it."

"I am sorry, you know."
"I should certainly think so!" Sirius waved the deluminator in front of the mirror dramatically,
tapped it with his wand, and it cracked clean in half, the chipped plastic giving way easily. It was
done. Sirius shuddered.
"It was the right thing to do," James offered tentatively.
"I can't talk to you right now," Sirius snapped, turning the mirror face down onto the grass.
He heard James' laughing voice. "Love you, Padfoot."
"Bugger off," he muttered. He pocketed the mirror and got to his feet, shaking his head at his
friend's complacency. When he reached the campfire, he was surprised to see Millicent and Johan,
returned from their shift of watching the werewolves.
"Everything alright?" he asked.
Millicent had a bag over her shoulder. "Ah, there you are. I have to leave, unfortunately. I received
a patronus from Dumbledore - lucky that the werewolves were asleep. He needs me back. He's
struggling to convince the Ministry to give us Aurors."
"Oh," said Sirius slowly.
"I don't have a lot of time, I've already told the others but Johan and Helena will be in charge now.
Listen to them."
"Okay."
"Listen to them, Sirius."
"Yeah, alright," he said defensively. "I will."
She nodded, nodded again at the others. Then she turned on the spot. With a crack, she was gone.
"Wastes no words, that one," said Marlene.
"Okay," said Johan, "nothing changes except our shifts to watch the werewolves. We will now
have more shifts each, as there are less of us."
Sirius stopped paying attention at that point. Right until he heard his name come up, at which point
he frowned and protested, but to no avail.
Half an hour later, he found himself lying belly down in grass, watching werewolves sleep through
a pair of omnioculars. "This isn't fair," he said again.
Marlene snorted, lying on her back beside him and gazing up at the stars. Werewolf watching
shifts with Marlene tended to be uncomfortable. They simply fought too easily these days. Granted,
it was generally Sirius' fault. He was still so angry with her, he usually wanted to fight. Not tonight,
though.
He decided to mix things up.
"How was your day, McKinnon?"
A silence. He imagined she was looking at him in surprise. "Alright," she said after a moment.
"Boring. Yours?"
"About the same. Hey, what do you reckon about the werewolf girl Remus has been following
around?"
He heard her roll onto her front and shimmy over. "I haven't actually seen her yet, only heard you
lot go on about her. Toss me the omnioculars."
He handed them over, watched her as she lifted them to her eyes. "Which one is she?"
"I can't pick her out right now," he replied. "It's dark and they're all sleeping."
She handed him back the omnioculars and rolled her eyes. "Why did you ask me, then?"
"What do you make of her in theory?"
She took a moment, then shrugged. "Good for Remus, I suppose. As long as he's still focused on
the mission, I'm happy for him."
"Of course," said Sirius. "Only… I've never seen him behave like this. Pete and I were watching
him yesterday, and he was following her around like a puppy."
"That's sweet."
"Is it?"
"What, you think she might get in the way of his mission?"
"I don't know what I think." He sighed. "Remus is so hard to read sometimes. James would
normally know what to make of it, but when I explained it to him over our two-way mirrors, he
wasn't sure either."
She gave him a look that was far too knowing for his liking. "You wish James were here."
He snorted. "Not likely."
"You miss your best friend."
"No."
"It's okay, Black." She nudged him lightly. "I'm sure James misses you too."
He rolled his eyes, she giggled, and he looked away. He didn't want her to see him smiling.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
When Lily first saw the lake in the far off distance, she thought it was a mirage. They hadn't seen a
body of water since they'd picked up Windstrum on the beach, and the walking and heat and
monotony of the trek since then had her longing for a swim, a proper bath. Drinking obviously
wasn't a problem so long as they had their wands, but the grime and sweat built up over this time
made Lily want to shudder when she thought about it.
They ran to the lake, panting, laughing, stumbling even. James and Anton got there first, looking
like they planned to dive in as soon as they reached, but both skidded to a halt at the same time,
stopping right at the edge of the water. Lily and the others frowned as they caught up. She looked
at James' face. He looked shocked, his mouth open, fingers shaking.
She looked at the lake, and her own eyes widened. There, on the surface of the water, Mr and Mrs
Potter smiled up at James, waving and holding each other. They looked so vivid, as though they
were really there, under the water. It was real, and tangible. Just as real as Sirius had seemed,
speaking to them from the surface of James' two-way mirror. Mr Potter started moving his mouth,
as though talking.
Only silence.
Suddenly an echo of something, a buzzing, a whisper. And then a voice."We miss you, son."
Lily gasped. Edgar cursed softly.
"I- I miss you too," James choked.
"We love you, darling," said Mrs Potter, beaming proudly.
"I love you too." He looked tortured, and sounded it too.
"Then come with us." Mrs Potter extended a hand, and Mr Potter joined her, and it looked like their
fingertips were an inch beneath the water's surface, just below. Waiting.
James reached his hand out to the lake's surface, almost touching-
Edgar grabbed his wrist and shoved him back. "No!"
James stumbled into Lily, and she put her hands on his shoulders. He was shaking.
When she looked back at the water, Mr and Mrs Potter were gone.
Something moved.
She looked closer, and her blood froze. Bodies drifted beneath the surface of the lake, their skin
pale and bloated, their faces a wretched sheet of flesh, decayed and worn away.
"Victims," said Edgar grimly. "Lured beneath the surface."
"The question is," said Taureau, "is it the lake that killed them, or something in it?"
No one had an answer. Lily looked at the water, wondering if she would see her parents there if she
stepped forward just a little. If it wasn't real, if they would simply be twisted figments of her
imagination, did she even want to?
Anton took a deep breath, and they all looked at him. He hadn't looked away from the surface, and
there Lily saw a familiar face.
Eugenia Jenkins glared up at the man. "You killed me."
"That's not true."
"I died because of you."
"You had to," he said. "You found out my secret."
More faces appeared. "And me?" asked Sawyer Hughes.
"I-"
"Me?" asked Emmett Fawley.
Taureau grunted when Fawley appeared, fists clenching.
"Sacrifices had to be-"
"And me, old friend?" asked Caradoc Dearborn, appearing before all the others and smiling sadly
at Anton. "Did I have to be sacrificed?"
"I didn't want to," Anton said forcefully.
"But you did." Caradoc stretched his hand out. "And you deserve to join us."
"No," muttered Anton.
"You do."
"No!" Anton covered his head with his hands, pulled at his hair.
"What if we push him in?" whispered Gideon.
Taureau snorted loudly and covered his mouth.
Everyone turned to stare at the man.
"What?" he said.
"I didn't know you could laugh," said Gideon.
"It was funny."
Lily didn't think so. She was still holding James, who stood steady now but she refused to let go.
They watched Anton. Eventually he turned away from the water and looked at them with a
completely neutral expression. "We'll have to walk around it. Let's go."
For once, he took the lead. They all followed in silence.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Breathe, Remus."
He was trying. He sat cross-legged across from Koza, beneath a canopy of tall trees some distance
from where the pack had made camp for the night. They'd made good progress towards Germany,
with perhaps only a few days of travel left.
"Just breathe."
Remus didn't want to be rude to the old man, but he already was breathing. What was he supposed
to do, breathe harder?
"The werewolf who is master of his mind is master of his transformation."
"You mean to say that it's possible to stay in control during a full moon?" Remus asked, cracking
open an eye.
"Yes. Close your eyes."

"Can you do it? Can everyone?"
"Every werewolf has the potential to master their form, but very few can do it. It takes dedication,
years of training and practice before even the slightest signs of improvement show."
Remus deflated. "Oh."
"But it can be done. I have done it, as has Garzhand, and Torza, and a number of others. You must
believe that you can do it, Remus. Breathe."
Remus sighed, and inhaled deeply.
"Be at peace. Only once you find complete calm within can you draw upon that calm during a full
moon. The natural state of the human psyche is a storm, tumultuous and unstable. You must see
inside yourself peace. An ocean so still and pure that you can see to the bottom. A forest as lush
and vibrant as the one we are in right now."
Remus exhaled slowly, then breathed deeper.
"Who are you?" Koza asked.
"I am Remus Lupin."
"No."
Remus cracked an eye open again. "No?"
"Close your eyes."
He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes once more.
"Search the center of your inner storm. Find yourself in the eye of the hurricane. Then, calm that
storm. Control it, for it is yours."
Remus didn't know what the old man was talking about. He couldn't see any bloody storm inside
himself. Only the blackness of the inside of his eyelids.
"Life will always try to rock a steady boat. It is your duty to stay at the helm. During a full moon
you are lost at sea, your boat overturned, and you are drowning in the storm. And why? Because
you never learned to calm it."
Remus was getting tired of the metaphors. He was a patient person, far more so than the rest of his
friends, but he was quickly running out of it.
"Just breathe, Remus."
An hour or so later, he walked through the forest with Eve by his side, amusing her as he furiously
recounted his meditation session.
"And the whole time, all he would tell me to do was bloody breathe! I mean, what does he think
I'm doing? Will I forget to breathe without him bloody well telling me to every ten seconds?"
She let out a bout of giggles. "That's exactly why I stopped meditating. It's a complete waste of
time if you ask me."
"But don't you want to learn how to stay in control during a full moon?" he asked her, as they
skirted around a bush. He kept an eye out for any signs of wildlife they could grab for dinner.
"Oh Remus, it's impossible," she said dismissively. "Sure, Koza and his son and nephew can do it,
but they're basically werewolf royalty. They say that Koza can trace his genealogy all the way back
to King Lycaon himself!"
"He spoke of others," insisted Remus. "Others in the pack who can do it."
"Yeah, that's true enough," she said. "And they're all eighty something years old. No wonder they
can 'calm their inner storm', they're already half dead."
Remus snorted, but internally he cursed. So he'd been given false hope. "Well, the old man failed to
mention tha-"
They stepped through some shrubbery and stumbled upon a group of six naked figures, lying on
the ground or pressed against the trees and against one another. All were so engrossed in one
another, clawing and moaning and-
"What the devil," he bellowed.
None looked up. They didn't even pause.
Eve burst into a fit of laughter, and pulled him back out of the shrubbery and away from all the
figures. He could still hear their- their noises. He glared at the shrubbery that kept the figures
hidden as if it were the culprit.
"What in the world do they think they're doing?" he demanded of her.
She paused her laughter - her face was red - to give him a disbelieving look. "You don't know what
they were doing?"
"No, I know what they were doing," said Remus quickly, his face coloring. "But- but that sort of
carry-on is completely inappropriate!"
She stared at him for a moment, and then burst into laughter again. He glared harder. "Remus," she
said, "that's how things are in the pack. There is no class, no nine hour job every day. No rent to
pay. You feed yourself from nature's resources, you find somewhere to sleep, and then you find a
way to pass your time. The pack works because we can protect each other if need be, and be with
each other. And if we're older and so inclined, get with each other."
He had been with the pack for weeks already, but every day he was reminded just how alien this all
was to him. "And you…" He cleared his throat. "Do you, er, 'get with' anyone… from time to
time?"
She eyed him with a smile that might have been coy on any other girl, but came across as more
amused than anything else. "From time to time," she said. "Now come on, let's kill some deer." She
pulled him along by the arm, still chuckling to herself. "I can't believe you said what the devil. You
are too much, you know that?"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Another campfire, another cold, dreadful night in the Valley of the Dead. James chewed on dried
meat and gazed into the fire, not thinking of anything in particular. Lily was behind him, her back
rested against his, their heads touching. Acustus was fast asleep on the ground. Anton sat on a log
with his eyes closed, massaging his forearm where it connected to the wood of his hand. Taureau
sat close by him, as he always did. James figured it was just in case Anton tried making a run for it.
The Prewett brothers and Edgar were studying a map by the fire, trying to work out how many
more nights it would take before they reached Berlin. The skin on Gideon's wrist was still blotchy
and raw where the wraith had touched him.
It was one of the rare quiet moments the group got, and they didn't feel like filling it with chatter.
James, feeling himself beginning to doze off, finished the last of his dried meat and shifted himself
into a more comfortable position without waking Lily. He glanced at the sky, littered with stars
that illuminated some of the surrounding terrain beyond the campfire's reach, and he wondered
how many hours of sleep he might get before Edgar woke him up in the morning.
His eyes began to close, and that's when he saw silhouettes in the distance. James frowned, sat bolt
upright.
Figures moving in the dark. Lots and lots of figures.
"Guys," James said quietly, pulling out his wand, "we're not alone out here."
The others were up immediately. They'd been forced to learn how quickly the quiet could turn
deadly in the valley.
Edgar raised his wand and a bright light shone from it, illuminating their surroundings.
The figures ambled quickly towards them from every direction. They were humans, or perhaps
once had been. Their eyes were only white, cloudy, disturbing. Flesh decaying on their faces, rags
hanging from their bodies, hands reached out, grasping the empty air with long, swiping nails.
Dead, mindless, re-animated corpses.
"Inferi," Lily breathed.
The small group formed a circle, facing outwards at the horde that surrounded them completely.
James gazed over the tops of the dead heads, and was dismayed to see no end to them. As far as he
could see by the stars and the wandlight, there were only more and more of the creatures swarming
towards them.
"There's no end," he muttered.
"Their weaknesses are fire and light," Fabian reminded the group.
"Indeed. We'll burn them all," Taureau growled. He waved his wand in a great swooping motion,
and a pillar of flame burst horizontally into the horde. James had to close his eyes from the heat,
and felt his face begin to burn. The fire roared like they were standing in the throat of a dragon, and
the creatures nearby shirked away from it, screeching and covering their faces. Taureau ended the
spell with another flourish of his wand, and the flames ceased to be.
The creatures caught by the spell lay on the ground, smoking heaps of cooked flesh. But some
walked on, still aflame, impervious to the fact that they were still being roasted as they walked.
"They're resisting it," said James, shooting flames of his own at nearing creatures and cursing as
they walked through the fire. "They should be more affected than this!"
"Then they're not Inferi," muttered Anton. "They're something else."
"Like what?" cried Acustus, trying and failing to deter another creature.
"Oh, let me just check my copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I don't know! All that
matters is they won't die!" Anton turned to Edgar. "We need all the fire and light we can get. Let
me take the glove off."
"No," growled Edgar, pointing his shining wand in a creature's face and glaring when it did
nothing.
"We're being overrun," Anton yelled. Their little circle grew tighter. Each of them tried to create as
much space against the horde as they could, but soon those grasping hands with those long, sharp
nails would be close enough to grab them. "I'll put the glove back on afterwards, I swear to you!"
"Your word means nothing," Taureau roared. He brought his wand in a wide circle above his head.
A cocoon of fire enveloped the eight of them, and the creatures were blocked from view. The
flames spun around them in an endless circle, bright, almost blinding. The heat was unbearable,
stinging James' face and hands. He felt like he was inside the sun itself.
James raised a hand in front of his face, shielding himself from the heat. "Make a decision soon,"
he yelled over the roar of flame. "I can't endure this for much longer!"
Edgar and Taureau exchanged a glance before Edgar turned back to Anton. "If you make me regret
this…"
Anton shrugged. "If I betray you, you'll be dead long before you can regret a thing."
"That's reassuring," Gideon muttered.
Edgar didn't look pleased, but he tapped Anton's glove with his wand and Anton yanked it off and
handed it to him.
"Better," said Anton. He looked at Taureau. "James has a point, by the way. This heat is
unbearable."
Taureau twirled his wand again, and the flames petered out, leaving them in the open once more.
The horde began to fill the space without hesitation, climbing over the charred bodies that had
likely tried to push through the cocoon. Anton raised his hand and a beam of flame erupted from it,
thin but potent. It sliced through the bodies, leaving the smell of burnt, blackened meat in the air
wherever he turned his palm.
James returned to shooting balls of flame at any creatures who broke the perimeter. They created
some space again. It was working. But for how long?
"They're not stopping," said Acustus, glancing over the heads and still seeing no end. "We'll be
overrun before the sun rises!"
James looked over as many heads as he could in the darkness. Nothing. No hint of salvation.
Except…
"What's that light?" he yelled.
In one direction, James realized that the horde actually petered out, eventually opening up into
open space. Far, far off along that open space was a small, flickering green light.
The others followed his gaze, found the little green light and frowned. "I guess we'll find out," said
Fabian, turning back to fend off some nearing creatures. "That's the only direction that the horde
isn't coming at us from. It's the only way we can go."
"But then the valley must want us to go there," said Lily. "We're being forced that way. It could be
a trick, or somehow worse than all this."
"Unfortunately," said Edgar, sending a stream of flame into the horde, "it could be our only way
out."
"What choice do we have?" asked Gideon.
Gradually, the group began to shuffle towards the light. It was grueling work, and they had to fight
the horde tooth and nail to move forward even at a snail's pace.
As they moved, they began to see the green light better, and James realized that it was actually a
house. Two stories, crooked, as though built by a child. The green light came from a window on
the top floor, so bright it illuminated the house even from this distance. Around the house was a
waist high gate of bent metal bars.
As far as potential salvation from a horde of monsters went, James would take anything he got.
One of the creatures took advantage of James' attention lapse, and was right in front of his face
before he could even process it. Those cloudy eyes, sharp yellow teeth, a foul, rotten breath
assailing his face. The moment stretched into a thousand as James saw real death before his eyes.
Then, the creature's head was blasted from its body. "No time for daydreams, Potter," said Anton,
incinerating another creature that took the place of the first. "Keep moving!"
James nodded sharply and went back to cursing the creatures.
The eight of them continued inching forward. At long last, they cleared the final wave of creatures
between them and the house. All that was left was a long, open stretch until they reached the
house's metal gate.
Edgar glanced back, saw the army of creatures right on their heels, jaws snapping and hands
grasping, and he turned back to the group. "Run," he bellowed.
They didn't need telling twice.
It was a sprint, a long one, longer than any normal person should be able to do. The danger told
their hearts to pump blood faster, their lungs to work harder, and their limbs to be stronger than
ever before, and they sprinted as fast as they could over the long stretch before them.
The creatures couldn't keep up, and a gap began to grow between the pursuers and their quarry.
James almost laughed at the taste of safety.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw someone trip over.
They all stopped, turned to see Acustus sprawled on the ground, dazed.
"Get up," James screamed to him.
The man started to, pushing himself to his feet in a dazed manner.
Then the creatures caught up, and with a swipe of those long, sharp fingernails, James watched
Acustus' throat get ripped out. Blood and flesh flew through the air, and Acustus' eyes rolled back
into his head. He didn't even make a sound.
Gideon repelled the creatures from the fallen body and stooped, picked Acustus up and slung the
man's unmoving form over his shoulder. "Keep running," Gideon said, already sprinting on. "We
can tend to him once we're safe."
Numbly, James picked the pace back up. The seven of them quickly approached the house, close
enough now that James could see the cracked cobblestone on the narrow path leading to a door of
rotting wood. He could see the paint peeling on every surface of the house, and rippling cracks
running through every window.
They reached the open gate, and James looked back at the now distant horde as he passed the
threshold of the metal bars. One moment, an endless sea of rotting bodies. As soon as he passed
through the gate, all of those bodies disappeared. He couldn't see them, couldn't hear them. He
only gazed out at the empty plains, lit up in green light, and by the stars above. It looked like
nothing was out there in the looming mass of darkness, but James knew better.
"I'd advise you not to step back past that threshold," said Fabian, standing next to him. "See this?"
James looked down. There was a symbol etched into the cobblestone, where the path to the house
started. It consisted of two lines swerving around one another in complex, painstaking detail. The
lines swirled outwards, ultimately forming a circle the size of a fist.
"The Lében sigil," said Fabian. "A life barrier. My guess is that only the living can cross this
rickety old gate." He slapped his hand against the metal bars.
"So that means…" James turned around. The others were gathered around Acustus. "He's still
alive?"
James and Fabian joined the rest, gazing down at Acustus in horror. There was no end to the blood
gushing from the man's neck. His eyes were closed. Edgar and Gideon were doing their best to help
him. Whatever spells they were casting, they were casting them quickly. Nothing seemed to be
happening.
"He's alive," muttered Edgar. "But we're losing him."
Lily's hand covered her mouth, and she looked at James, her face bone white. He reached out, and
she came, nestling under his arm, her head against his chest. He buried his face in her hair. It didn't
smell of any fancy shampoo. They hadn't bathed properly since stepping off The Chestnut, and
even then the conditions had been rough at best.
Fabian cursed softly. Anton stared at a spot on the ground. None of them spoke. They stood in
silence for just under six minutes, waiting for Acustus Proudfoot to die.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Aren't you worried someone will see you?" Remus asked, fidgeting with the fabric of the torn and
meagre rags on his body.
"Someone is already seeing me," said Eve, looking like she was very much enjoying his
discomfort. "You."
Her rags were tossed aside, and she stood before him naked as the day she was born. Moonlight
illuminated her body, but he kept his eyes focussed strictly on her face. She met his gaze and bit
her lip. Why did she always look so amused?
Then she spread her arms wide, like an angel, let herself fall back without losing that grin, and she
dropped into the lake behind her more gracefully than Remus had done a thing in his life. Water
burst up into the air, and Remus took a step back to avoid the spray. Then he let out a breath and
took two steps forward, standing on the water's edge. His fingers curled around the edges of his
rags. Why on earth did he agree to go skinny dipping?
Eve broke the surface of the water and backstroked easily, watching him. "Come on, then. It's not
that deep."
It wasn't the water he was afraid of.
"Close your eyes," he called, his voice cracking a little.
She giggled. "Seriously?"
"Close them!"
After a moment, she complied, eyes shut tight.
Breath in.
Breath out.
In one motion, Remus tore the rags from his body and flung them aside. He felt the breeze on
every part of him. It was freeing as much as it had been daunting. It had been incredibly daunting.
After a moment, he started laughing. Then he glanced at Eve.
Her eyes were open. She was biting her lip again.
"Oi," he cried. He leaped into the lake to protect his modesty. It was freezing, chilling, so jarring,
as if his body hadn't believed he'd really do it.
He broke the surface and opened his eyes.
Breathe in.
Remus started laughing again, paddling lightly, feeling a confidence that had been so fleeting his
whole life but felt so natural in this moment.
Suddenly, Eve was right in front of him. She was submerged up to her neck, and so, so close. Their
eyes met, and Remus didn't have the slightest ounce of insecurity or trepidation within. It didn't
even occur to him that he should have.
Breathe out.
She was on him, her mouth on his with an intense passion, and the same passion sprang forth from
Remus too, from an instinctual, carnal place within he hadn't known existed. His hands found her
neck, her hair, stomach, breasts, back, and they travelled lower still. Her hands worked a magic on
every inch of him, and he let out a soft sound into her mouth as she too went lower.
Remus Lupin would die at a relatively young age. He lived much longer than all his friends, of
course, but that wasn't saying much.
"Have you done this before?" she breathed.
"No."
"I'll go slow, okay?"
He died at thirty-eight. Compared to his friends, a wrinkly old man. And in that life, there were
only a small handful of times he could look back on at the very end and say to himself, 'Yes. I truly
belonged there.'
Being with Eve, in a lake not far from the border of Germany, learning about the birds and the
bees, bodies and euphoria, was one of those precious few times.
Part Five - Taureau Barkley
It was still dark when they finished burying Acustus. It hadn't taken them long. Lily supposed that
with the help of magic, these sorts of things could be much faster. Not like picking up a shovel and
digging into the ground with one's own blood, sweat, and literal tears.
When it was done, the seven of them stood around the fresh mound of dirt, at a loss for what to say.
None of them had really known the man.
"What was his name?" asked Anton, his low voice the only break in the windless, soundless night.
"Acustus," said James. "But please, Professor. Don't act like you care."
"You're right." Anton shrugged. "Why should I? I've killed a lot of people. But as you all might
have pieced together by now, it is not the easiest thing to shrug away. Not for me, and not for
anyone, no matter how much they try to play it off. Except for the Dark Lord, perhaps. I see
murder as a necessary evil, but I am just as affected by death as the rest of you. Now I did not know
this boy, but I believe every person deserves some words spoken over their body at the very end,
don't you?"
"His name was Acustus," said Fabian. "An Auror for a couple of months. Maybe a year. He was
among those sent to hunt down Caradoc Dearborn, the man who you framed and killed, Anton.
Acustus was plagued by guilt, and so he joined our team. A team dispatched to bring you to justice.
That was his only motivation to be here. Now, like so many others before him, here he lies, and
there you stand. Spare us your self-pitying, pious bullshit. We don't want to hear it. Wise words
spoken over dead bodies carry a foul stench, especially when you're the one who put them under
the ground."
Anton raised a hand at Fabian. The wooden one. "I had nothing to do with this man's fate."
Edgar raised his wand at Anton. "Now is as good a time as any to remind you of your promise,
Windstrum." He dug swiftly into his pocket, then threw the black glove at Anton's feet. "Put it on
right now, or Acustus won't be buried alone."
Anton looked amused. "You would kill me?"
"No," growled Taureau, his own wand now rising. "I would."
Anton's amused expression deepened. "Now wouldn't that be a spectacle."
"We don't have time for this," snapped Edgar. "Put the glove on. Now."
After a moment, Anton lowered his hand. The others slowly lowered their wands. "I have every
intention of keeping my promise, Mr Bones. I merely want to raise the point that this glove is not
needed. I could have betrayed you back there, against the horde. It would have been so easy.
Instead, I helped. I saved young James' life, at one point." James looked annoyed. That's how Lily
knew the words were true. "My point is, we are not enemies. Please understand that." He picked up
the glove and slid it on. Edgar wordlessly tapped his wand to it, preventing Anton from taking it
off again. "I'm keeping my promise," Anton continued. "I wish to leave this damn country, but I
also now share your desire to see the Dark Lord fall."
This was news to the rest of them. Did it mean Windstrum was a traitor to the Death Eaters? That
would mean he'd have betrayed both sides now, Lily noted.
No one seemed to know what to say to this. Eventually, Gideon stepped forward, pointed his wand
at the mound of dirt before them all, drawing them back to the situation at hand. "We should leave
him a headstone. Something to mark his place here." He flicked his wand, and stone jutted out of
the ground. Lines carved their way through the stone in tidy calligraphy.
Acustus Proudfoot. A Good Man.
"Do you remember how scared he was back on The Chestnut, when the maelstrom hit?" asked
Fabian.
Light chuckles found the air.
"He pretended to faint three times," said Edgar, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Just as an excuse
to hide inside the cabin during the storm. I cast Enervate on him and he still pretended to be out
cold!"
"He was going to be the drummer in our band," Gideon remembered. He looked at his brother.
"We were going to record our album with him."
The others snorted.
They continued reflecting on the man's life for what felt like a long time. Long enough. However,
the sky was still just as dark afterward, even once they'd said all there was to say. It meant it was
time to move on.
The seven of them gradually turned and stood before the house, illuminated by that eerie green
light in the top floor window.
"It's going to be haunted, isn't it?" said James resignedly.
"At this point, I'd be almost disappointed if it weren't," said Fabian.
"Normally I would recommend we rest for the night," Edgar told the group. "We're all exhausted,
mentally and physically. Unfortunately, time is not our friend. We're late as it is, and we need to be
in Berlin as soon as possible. We've studied the map, and I suspect that this house is our last
obstacle; the final stop in the Valley of the Dead." He let those words sink in. They had almost
made it through the nightmare. "Let's deal with this as fast as we can, and we'll soon be in Berlin.
Sound good?" There were nods all around. "Good."
As one, they walked the rest of the way up the cobblestone path. Edgar climbed two stairs and
reached for the doorknob. The moment he got his hand around it, it disappeared within his fingers.
The door was just a blank sheet of beaten, splintered wood with no way to open it.
"Everyone, stop," said Edgar, holding up a hand. They all froze right behind him. "Take a few
steps back."
With confused glances at each other, the rest of them stepped back down the two steps and onto
the cobblestone.
The doorknob reappeared right where it had been. Edgar grunted in response, then rammed his
shoulder against the door. Not a budge. He tapped his wand to the wood, and frowned. Whatever
he was checking, it didn't seem to be quite what he wanted. He turned back to the rest of them.
"Fabian, place a foot on the first step."
With understanding crossing his face, Fabian touched his foot to the step. The doorknob
disappeared again. He lifted it, and there it was once more.
"It seems," said Edgar, "that we must enter the house one at a time. Alone."
"Whatever is haunting this place wants to separate us," said Fabian.
Edgar nodded. "And it isn't giving us a choice… Listen up, you lot. Ghosts and spirits cannot harm
us. Once they cross the living plane to that of death, their influence on the physical all but ceases to
be. Their real harm is in the mental, and the spiritual. They can do nothing to you that you won't do
to yourself. Be strong."
Lily cleared her throat. "Poltergeists can harm us though, right? I mean, Peeves back at school
throws things at us all the time."
Edgar grimaced. "If it's a poltergeist in there, we may be in trouble if we're separated."
"Whatever it is, we'll just exorcize it," growled Taureau.
"Easier said than done," said Anton. "They've been trying to get rid of old Peeves for centuries. I'm
not sure how much we can do to whatever's in there."
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," said Edgar. "Hopefully we'll be able to regroup in there
at some point. Now is everyone ready to proceed?"
When each had nodded, he opened the door. Lily couldn't see anything past his figure, and then he
stepped inside and the door slammed shut behind him. Fabian went next, followed by Gideon.
Anton gestured to Taureau to go after the Prewett brothers, but Taureau grabbed him by the arm
and shoved him up the stairs.
"Really now," huffed Anton.
Taureau followed him in once he'd disappeared, leaving Lily standing with James outside the
house.
"You've been quiet," she said.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing a dead body," he murmured.
She took his hand in hers and stood so close his chin brushed her cheek. "That's a good thing. I feel
sorry for people who are used to it."
"Like all them," James said, nodding towards the house.
"Yeah."
"I don't want to have to bury any more bodies. I've had enough of it. And the worst part is, I know
Acustus won't even be close to the last one."
Lily nodded. "I get the feeling there will be plenty more bodies to come."
James looked at her and squeezed her hand. "But not ours."
"No, not ours."
He was next in the house, after that. He turned back to her just as he stepped in, offered her that
smile that meant everything, before the door slammed shut after him.
Finally, she climbed the two stairs, and opened the door. Inside was a hallway. She could see it
now. It was dark, and empty. She got the feeling someone was watching her. She turned around,
gazed out past the metal fence behind, at the seemingly empty plains that she knew was really
swarming with those mindless, hungry creatures.
She stepped into the hallway. The door slammed shut behind her, and suddenly everything was
dark.
Then came the sounds. She opened her eyes.
London.
Buildings were on fire. Windows were smashed. People were running on the street, terror etched
onto their dirt-smeared faces.
It was Charing Cross Road, but not as Lily knew it. The Leaky Cauldron was rubble in front of her,
exposing Diagon Alley to the world. Death Eaters marched out in the open, their masks looking
more leering than ever.
The world had changed, and it was all her fault.
She started running. Down the street, down another street, passing familiar faces she couldn't quite
place, or hadn't the time to speak to. She had to check, had to make sure they were safe. She
rounded a corner and saw them.
Alice and Frank, lying still on the ground, their arms stretched towards each other in death.
Petunia's body lying in an unnatural position not far away. Her eyes were vacant, unseeing, yet
they still seemed to glare up at Lily accusingly. Marlene and Sirius had died with their arms around
one another. That was some consolation at least, Lily thought to herself numbly. Tears were
streaking down her face, but she barely registered them. Her hands were shaking, her heart beating
so incredibly quickly. She knew who came next before she even looked.
There he was. Black, messy hair soaked in blood. Glasses askew, cracked. There was usually a
smile on his face. A cheeky grin at least. In death though, terror and pain were all she saw on the
face of James Potter.
She couldn't look anymore. She was still alive. Someone had to help. She could think about death
later. Right now, all these terrified Muggles needed her.
Lily pulled her wand out, glancing around at the fleeing, frightened Muggles. If she couldn't save
her friends, she would sure as hell save these-
Hmm. So grief will not do the trick, eh?
The voice was raspy. Old. Something that should have passed on a long time ago.
How about… FEAR?
The world shifted around her.
"Do you reckon anyone's home?"
"Doubt it. No one's lived here for years."
Lily was ten. It was the summer before she got her Hogwarts letter. At the time, she'd found the
events of that day bizarre. Looking back, she realized how close she'd come to a horrible death.
"Go knock," said Anna, giggling.
"I'm not going to knock," said Maddy, head shaking quickly. "My older brother says this house is
haunted.
Lily scoffed. "Haunted? There's no such thing as ghosts, Maddy. Everyone knows that."
The three girls huddled by a gate, staring at a tall black house. Number Fifty-two stood at the top
of Hader's Hill, not far from Cokeworth. For generations, the town's teenagers had been coming
here, perhaps to impress their friends, or perhaps just for a rush of adrenaline. It was like a rite of
passage. They would run up the dirty pathway, pound loudly on the front door, then run away with
their friends, giggling and squealing with glee. None waited to see if the door would open. Though
it was common knowledge in the town that nobody had lived here for many years, there wasn't a
single soul willing to test that theory.
"Go on, Lily," said Anna. "If you're so sure ghosts don't exist, why don't you knock on the door and
see who's there?"
Lily shook her head. "It's late. We should go home."
"I think you're scared," said Maddy. "You do believe in ghosts, you just don't want to admit it."
"I'm not scared!"
"You sound scared."
Lily glared. "I'm braver than you both put together. Watch this!"
She undid the latch of the metal gate, and it swung slowly inward with a loud groan. Then she
started walking up the path. The house loomed above her. The hedges on either side trapped her in.
She looked back at Anna and Maddy, on the other side of the gate. Safe. Suddenly this didn't feel
like such a good idea.
There was something watching her. She didn't know how she knew. Maybe by a prickling on her
neck, or the tiny hairs on her arm sticking out, but her body and mind both screamed at her to turn
around, take her friends, and get as far away from here as possible.
But Lily Evans wasn't a runner.
She moved quickly up the pathway until she was at the door. There was a smell in the air. Stale,
and old. She summoned all her courage before rapping her knuckles against the door three times,
sharp. Then she turned, saw her friends' impressed and disbelieving faces. Lily grinned and started
to run back, not looking at the door.
She got half a step before she tripped and fell flat on her face. Her hands managed to break most of
the fall, but her nose hit the ground, making her eyes stream. She yelped and slowly sat up, wiping
her face with her sleeves. When she could see clearly again, she got a wobbly foot under her and
pushed herself up to her feet.
A creaking sound.
She turned around slowly. The door had opened. Lily's heart froze. She was unable to take a
breath. She saw a dark hallway, with cobwebs on the walls and stains on the carpet. But no one
was there. No one had opened the door.
Lily turned and sprinted back down the path, trying desperately to suck air into her lungs. She
didn't check to see if anything was following her. All she needed to do was get past the gate.
But the path was suddenly so long. It seemed to stretch on forever, her friends merely specs in the
distance. She heard something right by her ear. A rasping breath.
Then everything spun, and Lily felt like she was being stretched and squeezed all at once. The gate
was suddenly right in front of her. But… it had been so far before! How could she have crossed all
that distance? Her ears had popped, and she was queasy. But she was at the gate, and that's all she
needed.
Lily jumped over the fence, not wasting a moment more, and looked at her friends to tell them to
hurry up-
Anna was on the ground. Her head, torn from her body, was a few feet away. Her lifeless eyes
rolled in their sockets.
"No," whispered Lily. "This isn't what happened."
What was left of Maddy's carcass lay beside Anna. Lily could only recognize the body from the
clothes, bloodied as they were. It looked like the girl had burst from the inside out.
"This didn't happen," said Lily, putting her hands to her temples. "We ran away. We went home
safe!"
It happened.
That voice again.
"No, it did not!" Lily whirled around, wand suddenly in her hand, searching for a target. "You can't
trick me. Half of this memory is fake! Show yourself!"
Hmm. It sounded fascinated. Fear will not work on you either, it seems. You are resilient.
"Show yourself," she repeated, louder and steadier this time.
Let me see… How about the most powerful motivator of all… love?"
The world spun again.
"-can authorize a portkey for us to get out of here," Caradoc Dearborn was saying as he walked
away. "You two stay right there, I won't be long."
It was Portugal, a mere eight months ago. New Year's Eve.
Their table was outside a bar packed full of merry drinkers. It was a big night. All the writing, in
any direction Lily looked, was in Portuguese. And if she remembered correctly, the countdown to
the new year was only moments away.
James' hand found her chin, turning her gaze upon him. "You're so beautiful."
"James," she breathed, "something's wrong. I- I don't know what it is, but…" What was wrong?
She couldn't remember. She had something urgent to do, but she suddenly didn't care. Not when,
after all this time, his face was so close. His nose brushed hers. His lips were so near they shared
breaths.
"Forget everything else," he murmured. "Everything but us, in this moment. Right now."
"James…"
"Let's stay here."
"What?"
"Let's stay here, Evans." He pulled back a little and looked at her, completely serious. It was
almost bizarre to see such an expression on his face. "We can forget everything here. The war.
Your parents-"
"But they weren't dead at this point," she started, clarity almost reaching her.
"Evans," he said urgently, "this might be our only chance to get away from it all. Stay here with
me."
"James, what you're asking is-"
"Dez," cried what seemed like everyone in the city. The countdown had begun. "Nove!"
"Stay with me, Evans."
"But-"
"Oito!"
"Evans, I love you." He leaned closer, so close she could count his eyelashes. "I love you, and I
want to make a life with you here."
"Sete!"
"Stay with me. Please."
"Seis!"
This was it. Her chance at a happy life. Possibly her only chance. How could she not seize it?
"Cinco!"
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Três!"
"Okay?" he repeated, his face lighting up.
"Okay," she said louder, laughing now. She was going to do it. She was really going to do it.
"Dois!"
"I'll stay with you, Potter. Because I love you too."
An indescribable vision of joy filled James' face, and he reached out to her just as she reached to
him.
"Um!"
She couldn't fight off the smile as their faces quickly drew within a hair's breadth. "Let's make a
life together, Potter."
"Feliz Ano Novo!"
Their lips crashed together, and it was like a man had been pushing the plates of the Earth's crust
apart all this time before finally giving into the pressure, letting nature take its course, for it felt
violent, seismic, and inevitable.
"Let's get away from here," he breathed against her lips.
She nodded.
They ran. Holding hands and giggling like children, James and Lily ran through the streets of
Portugal, sidestepping passersby and barely missing street signs.
They found a beach, ran along the sand, stood on the edge of the tide and watched the ocean's
reflection of the night sky. Boats honked, fireworks lit up the sky, and Lily's heart was so
incredibly full. James didn't let go of her hand once.
They found a place to stay the night. And, that night, they made love for the first time. And the
second, and the third. They bought a house the next day, got jobs as Muggles.
Before long, they were married. A quiet ceremony, just the two of them and an officiator. Lily had
teared up during the ceremony, for which James made endless fun of her.
Five years later they had two kids, Petunia and James Jr, the latter idea coming from the insistence
of Lily's rather self-indulgent husband. The kids went to Muggle schools, which took a while for
James to wrap his head around. Jr got up to all sorts of mischief at the behest of his father, causing
Lily many, many headaches. Petunia was the spitting image of Lily herself, making the strain of
motherhood at least somewhat easier.
Eventually, however, the kids grew up. They finished their education, they moved out, found
partners, and had kids of their own. Before Lily knew it, she was a grandmother. James and Lily
didn't need to work anymore. They had worked hard all these years, had a nice house by the beach,
and spent their evenings on the deck, relaxing in their chairs and looking out at the water. Side by
side, always.
On one such evening, Lily finished her wine glass and turned to James, who was reading a Muggle
gossip magazine with fascination. "I'm off to bed, love. I think I'll get an early night's sleep."
He looked up at her and gave her his adoring smile. "Alright. Goodnight, Potter."
"Night, Potter. Love you."
They kissed. She lingered on his lips, savoring the taste. All these years and she still wasn't over
the way he made her feel.
She walked back into the house, smiling at the picture frames lining the walls of the kids when
they were infants. Petunia practicing the violin, looking at the instrument with loathing. Jr on the
day he was signed to play professional football, beaming his father's crooked grin at the camera.
Lily walked on, soaking in the life she'd made with James. She got into bed, blissful. She'd lived a
perfect life.
That was when she was shaken awake.
Lily was suddenly aware that she was lying on an extremely uncomfortable mattress. The material
was torn, the surface lumpy. She squinted, took in the fact that she was in a dark, musty room.
The house with the green light!
Lily opened her eyes wide, looked up, and screamed.
Acustus stood over her, a hand on her shoulder. His throat was still ripped out. His face was as
white as a sheet. His eyes were unfocused, sightless.
Lily scrambled away from him, falling off the other end of the bed in her rush. She leaped back up,
then frowned. Acustus was gone.
She took a better look around the room. It was barren apart from the bed, if it could even be called
that. The light came from a window overlooking the plains. Lily peered through the window,
towards the gate and the cobblestone path.
She searched with her eyes for the headstone marking the spot Acustus had been buried. She
quickly found the spot it should have been, but instead saw only a normal patch of dirt. Not a trace
of the burial they had given the man.
Had she just seen his ghost? No, he had physically touched her. Had Acustus really just woken her
up? It seemed so.
Lily was thoroughly creeped out. What frightened her most however was the knowledge that if she
hadn't been shaken awake, she would have likely spent the rest of her life on that bed, in that
dream. Her paradise.
There was a door at the end of the room. Lily tried it, and thankfully it was unlocked. Beyond was
a dark corridor. She lit up her wand and started walking.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Edgar leaned against a wall. Sweat beaded his forehead. His eyes were wide and manic.
He had broken free of the dream. Somehow, he had mustered the determination to break free. He
took a few steps, staggered, leaned against the wall again.
He wanted to go back. Back into the dream. He didn't know why, could now barely even
remember the dream, but he knew it was better than this. Better than this sudden broken feeling
filling his mind. He couldn't shake it. He wanted to escape.
He reached beneath his shirt, pulled out the gold chain around his neck, grasped it in both hands
and screwed his eyes shut tight.
No. No, he didn't need to do that.
He slipped the chain back under his shirt and took a breath.
His mind started to clear on its own. The dream had been horrific and gruesome, but somehow his
brain had been tricked into comfort within the dream, relishing the escape. Whatever had been
done to his head upon entering this house, it was powerful. He could only imagine the effect it was
having on the others.
Edgar shook his head, clearing the last of the cobwebs inside.
He saw movement. Down the end of the corridor was a figure, moving slowly towards him.
Edgar frowned and tilted his head. "Acustus?"
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
A vibrant darkness, radiating from the crevices between ideas and thoughts. It was brain matter
manifested into experience, feeling.
Taureau Barkley, came an old, raspy voice. Why can I not see into your mind?
Taureau felt amused, and the darkness flashed bright before returning to form. "My mind has been
trained to be impenetrable," he thought, the words echoing off the surface of the darkness. "Many
more valiant attempts than this have been made to penetrate my thoughts, ghost."
Pride, eh? Oh, I can use that…
Taureau felt an attempt being made to access his memories. He could have shut it down by instinct
alone, but he relented. To conquer this ghost, he would have to find it first. So he stayed idle as he
felt his mind being probed, his oldest thoughts and memories being sifted through.
Taureau Barkley was a patient man. This ghost would soon find that it was his most deadly quality.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Some people spend their whole lives looking for it," said Taureau's father. He was always
exhausted when he came home from work, though Taureau didn't know why yet. The boy was
thirteen years old, couldn't yet comprehend the drain of adult life, the stress of an underpaying and
taxing job, the pressure to provide for a motherless child and wishing so desperately this child will
grow up to be better than his father.
"Looking for what?" asked Taureau. He sat opposite his father at the dinner table. It was just past
five in the evening, and his father sipped tea slowly, gazing out the window with eyes that seemed
far away. His father wore an exquisite suit - he always did. It was bright blue, with gleaming black
boots. Taureau understood that his father's job was demeaning and crude, yet he always presented
himself with the utmost dignity. Class. It was a long time before Taureau learned to see the value in
this.
"Looking for their purpose," answered his father. "The reason they were put on this earth, the
reason they get out of bed in the morning."
A day of work generally seemed to make Taureau's father contemplative and introspective, an
attitude Taureau later came to attribute to those who were dissatisfied with their lives and being
compelled to ask why. Taureau tilted his head at his father. "How do those people get out of bed in
the morning if they're still yet to find a reason to get out of bed?"
His father's smile looked pained. "With great difficulty."
Taureau thought he was starting to get it. "Do you find it difficult, Dad?"
"I used to. Until one day, thirteen years ago." His father turned from the window to smile at him,
filling Taureau with warmth. "Until you, Chester."
Chester.
Chester.
Chester.
"But if you look for that reason, if you're only rolling out of bed in the hopes that it will reveal
itself to you one of these days, you may find it all the more elusive. Your reason will find you.
Happiness will find you, always. You must simply have the strength to keep rolling out of bed until
it does."
The words meant nothing to Taureau at the time. It seemed more like his father was only
reminding himself of these things.
Yet his father's musings would often spring back to Taureau over the years. They weren't his
motivation as much as they became his modus operandi. One day, his reason to be would come to
him. It had to.
"For the next five years," said the man with thick brows and cold eyes, pacing in front of the
recruits, "you are no one. Nobody at all. Forget your names, forget your identities. You won't need
them in this line of work. If you survive your training, you will emerge from those grand doors as a
new person. You will choose a new identity, and it will mean nothing to you. Because you are
nothing. Understood?"
Taureau stood in a long row of expressionless teenagers. They all nodded mutely.
"Good. Let us begin."
To say Taureau's time in the academy was grueling would be a gross, preposterous understatement.
Who he was as a person was chipped away, ground to dust, rebuilt into a mould that would drive
most people clinically insane. He watched many of his peers get carried away screaming when
they couldn't stand the pressure, the strain. Taureau never saw them again. Nor did he ever care.
Chester died before his fourteenth birthday, strapped to a chair with a wand against his temple, his
mind being blended and reconstructed to the whim of his teachers. The person that stood up from
the chair, limbs shaking, vision blurry, could barely be called a person at all.
He was made immune to what seemed like every poison known to man. This was done the hard
way, of course - he was exposed to the poisons, drenched in them, then healed only enough to keep
him alive before starting from the beginning.
"Number nineteen," said Miss Lamenta, "come in."
He closed the door behind him and looked around the room. It was small, mostly empty. Miss
Lamenta stood before him, wearing all black, the same as everyone else. There was also someone
kneeling on the ground with a brown bag over their head.
"I wish to see how much progress you've made," said Miss Lamenta. She pointed at the kneeling
person. "Kill them."
He stared. He had known this day would come. This test. He spoke no words, made no movement.
He only looked at the kneeling figure, finding that even after all the mental reconstruction and
conditioning, he still wasn't ready.
After three minutes, Miss Lamenta nodded. "Okay. What if I inform you that the person before
you is a sexual predator? He preys upon Muggles, enjoys his power over them. He works in the
Ministry, and no one will stop him. Many of his colleagues are fully aware of the things he does.
The request to take his life was sent to us this morning, and here he is. Will you kill him now?"
Taureau glanced at Miss Lamenta. "Is any of that true?"
"It is not your job to separate truth from fiction. It is your job to kill this man. I have already told
you far more than any client would."
Taureau aimed his wand at the man. He summoned the intent, the desire to snuff out a life. He
focussed on the story she had told him, and used it as fuel to get the words out. "Avada Kedavra."
The figure collapsed, hit the ground with a soft thud and didn't move again.
"Less than satisfactory," said Miss Lamenta. "We will try it again tomorrow. Dismissed."
Taureau let out a breath, eyes not moving from the body. He had done that. He had taken a life.
Eventually, he nodded, and moved to the door. But he had to pause before he left. "Did… did that
man really do all of those things?"
Miss Lamenta furrowed her thin eyebrows. "A word of advice, number nineteen. Do not ask me
another question."
He nodded, and left.
The next day he returned, found Miss Lamenta standing right where he had left her. The condition
of the captive had notably changed, however.
"Please help me!" Kneeling before Taureau was a lady, blotchy faced and sobbing. Her shoulders
shook, her face desperate, miserable.
"There's no bag over her head," said Taureau.
"Indeed there is not," replied Miss Lamenta. She pointed a finger at the lady. "Kill her."
"Please," said the lady, trying to speak through gasping breaths and sobs that seemed to seize her
whole body. "Please, I have children. Please! Pl- Pl..." She was struggling to get the words out, she
was shaking so much. "Please," she wheezed one more time.
All night Taureau had meditated on how he had felt about taking his first life. How he would feel
about taking more.
"Avada Kedavra."
The lady's body hit the floor. Taureau felt nothing.
"You have all passed," said the man with thick brows and cold eyes, pacing back and forth before a
much shorter row of teenagers, now five years older. "Those who did not pass were weak. Not only
weak, but arrogant. They required a reason to kill someone. Further justification than the simple
fact that it was what they had been ordered to do. They thought themselves the definitive judge
between right and wrong. I will kill a criminal, but not an innocent person. But I will not kill every
criminal, only those who seriously offend. But what is a serious offence? Where shall I draw the
line? The answer is not to draw the line at all - to accept that it is not your job to draw the line. You
are the tools of those who do. You are not judge, jury, or even executioner, no. An execution
implies guilt. You all will be killing indiscriminately. You are nothing."
It was the least gratifying or affirming speech there could have ever been.
The man went on to explain how they would each take on a new name once they rejoined the
outside world. The name would feel natural to them, would accurately capture the new person they
had become. An opportunity for rebirth.
Taureau Barkley quickly became infamous in the underground circles of those who dealt in the
dark. His kill count was immeasurable, his reputation considerable, his name only ever whispered,
even in the darkest reaches of Knockturn Alley, lest it conjure him in the flesh.
"I understand you are the best at what you do."
Taureau said nothing. He did not boast. His reputation meant nothing. He was nothing.
"I like the best. I require the best." Anton Windstrum leaned forward in his armchair, blond hair
slicked back, eyes glinting with the aura of someone about to tell a joke. "I want to pay for your
services, Mr Barkley. There is a man I would like you to kill..."
Taureau crept through the brightly lit corridors of the Vienna State Opera, keeping his footsteps
silent even though any sound would have been masked by the orchestra and the applause for the
performances inside. He poked his head around the corner of the corridor, watched his target walk
from behind.
Emmett Fawley stopped walking suddenly, turned around and looked right at Taureau. "Another
one of Blithe's assassins, I presume?"
Taureau didn't hesitate. Green light shot from his wand and Fawley avoided it by weaving to the
side, pulling out his wand, and-
There, floating above them both.
"Found you," muttered Taureau.
The ghost was a pale blend of grey and silver. It had a beard and glasses, and wore a tattered
nightgown. It gave Taureau a surprised look. He got the feeling the ghost had never been caught
before.
It all flickered.
"You don't want to kill me," said Fawley.
Taureau was now pressing his wand to the man's chest. "Yes, I do."
"No. If you did then I would already be dead." His head tilted. "Why don't you want to kill me? If I
may make a potentially ignorant assumption, you are the assassin I've been hearing so much about.
I would hardly be your first murder, I think."
How can you see me? The ghost floated down to Taureau's eye level. How are you able to stray
from the course of your memory?
"I told you," Taureau told the ghost, "I have been trained for this."
"-so I have to assume," continued Fawley, completely oblivious to the ghost and as though Taureau
hadn't said a thing, "that something is different about me. What's so different about me, assassin?"
Taureau didn't have an answer to the question immediately. It was only much later that the answer
had come to him. Emmett Fawley had found it. His reason for existing was to make the world a
better place. He was sarcastic, yet kind. Sharp, yet naive. A sardonic humanitarian. Good-will was
infectious, and for a time Taureau had his own reason to get out of bed in the morning.
"Anton Windstrum is Blithe," Fawley said, still shocked at the news as the two sat in his kitchen
drinking coffee while the sun rose. Taureau had spent the night with him, providing him with
fascinating pieces of information before the two moved on to a much more physical agenda. "My
possession of this knowledge could be the greatest tactical advantage we have had since the
conception of this war."
"But what am I to do now?" asked Taureau. "When he finds out I haven't killed you, he will assume
you now know who he is."
There. The ghost again, hovering above their heads. Taureau leaped towards it. In the physical
world a ghost could not be touched, but here? This was Taureau's mind. These were his memories.
The ghost didn't stand a chance.
He got an arm around the ghost's neck, and it yelped as he tackled it from the air.
"Then tell him," saw Fawley, ignoring Taureau's departure from the course of the memory, "that
you were defeated by me. We might kill two birds with one stone - hopefully he'll stop sending
assassins after me!"
Taureau tightened his grip, and the ghost's face became even more pale.
It all flickered.
"He defeated you?" Anton repeated, eyebrows raised. "Merlin's beard, I didn't know Fawley had it
in him!"
"What is your purpose?" Taureau growled to the ghost as he strangled it on Anton Windstrum's
griffin hide rug. "Why are you haunting the exit to the Valley of the Dead? What do you intend to
do to my companions?"
"Very well," said Anton, ignoring all the commotion. "Fawley may stay alive for now. I will be in
further need of your assistance, Mr Barkley, so I am extending your contract in the hopes that you
will not fail me again. You will continue to be paid handsomely, of course. Now, things are
looking to become quite complex. Albus Dumbledore, the self-satisfied old fool that he is, has
hired me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this coming year. I will be of great
value to the Dark Lord, though it will be quite difficult for me to communicate with you while I am
there. Here is how we will do it..."
It all flickered.
Taureau burst through the doors of the warehouse just as there was a flash of green light. He saw
Emmett Fawley slump into a chair, dead. Anton Windstrum stood over the love of Taureau's life
and had the audacity to frown at Taureau. "What are you doing here?"
Taureau lost his patience. "Who are you?" he roared to the ghost, throttling it. Its legs kicked
helplessly as he held it in the air. "What do you want?"
Averill Pening. The dead man had no lungs, needed no air, yet still he gasped desperately. My
house has stood on that land for centuries. I feed on the souls of trespassers, they give me the
power to meddle with their very own minds. Eventually, they become part of the house.
Taureau snarled down at the ghost. "Let's go put a stop to that, shall we?"
A flicker, this time brought about by Taureau himself.
The seven of them gradually turned and stood before the house, illuminated by that eerie green
light in the top floor window.
"It's going to be haunted, isn't it?" said James resignedly.
"At this point, I'd be almost disappointed if it weren't," said Fabian.
"Might I guess that the green light up there has something to do with your power?" Taureau asked
the ghost.
Pening shook his head quickly. No.
"I think it does. Let's go take a look, shall we?"
Taureau dragged the ghost of Averill Pening up the cobblestone path, kicked the wooden door off
its hinges, and barged inside.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Marlene, Sirius, and Peter lazed about in a meadow, gazing up at the sky. Johan and Helena were
off watching the werewolves - they seemed to be the only ones who actually enjoyed the task.
The pack had spent the last few days making quick progress towards Germany, perhaps only
another day or two away.
"Why do you think they're going to Germany?" asked Peter.
The group had raised this question many times amongst themselves. The answer was more or less
the same each time. "Honestly?" said Sirius. "Probably to join the Death Eaters."
"Maybe not," said Marlene. "Maybe Remus has convinced them to join us."
"Yeah," said Sirius. "Maybe."
They were quiet for a few more minutes. Eventually Peter sighed and got to his feet. "I'll check on
Johan and Helena, see if either of them want a break."
Sirius snorted. "Not likely."
Marlene closed her eyes as the sounds of Peter's footsteps on the dry grass faded away. Her
thoughts, normally careening from temple to temple, were currently a loose jumble drifting around
her head. Maybe it was the hot weather, or maybe it was the monotony of the last few weeks
lulling her into lanquidity, but right now she felt a sense of relative peace. "It's not a bad job we've
got here," she said, eyes still closed.
"I don't think so," Sirius replied. "I'd much rather be on the frontlines with the others. I hate being
able to do nothing while they get to have all the fun."
"I suppose."
After a moment, he continued. "I can see why you prefer this, though."
"Why's that?" she asked, prepared for an insult.
"You don't like violence. Never have. In Diagon Alley last year, your way of helping out was to
heal my wounds rather than get straight to fighting. When fighting is required you more than hold
your weight, but you've never enjoyed it. That's why you're going to be a Healer after school, is it
not?"
She bit her lip, fighting off a smile. No one knew her like this boy. "That is correct."
"Well, there you go. Have you heard back from the academy yet, by the way?"
Dieudonnée's Academy was a Healing school in France, extremely acclaimed and just as exclusive.
No one actually knew she'd applied to it yet. Not her parents, not Will Ärger. Just Sirius. "They're
still reviewing my application. I'll only find out around Christmas."
"That's a long time to wait."
"Yeah."
"I'm sure you'll get in, though. And you'll love France." Marlene smiled appreciatively. "My first
girlfriend was French, actually," he continued. "Ariana. The sweetest thing, and a friend of the
family too, which makes the fact that she's a decent person even more impressive. I still write to
her every now and then. When you get to France I can let her know, maybe she can show you
around the city. "
Despite herself, Marlene felt an inexplicable dislike for this Ariana. She shouldn't have, but she
couldn't help it. "I'd like that," she lied. "Thanks."
Sirius hummed in response. They were quiet for a while then, a comfortable and pleasant quiet
consisting of a light breeze and birds chirping in the distance.
Then footsteps. Hurried, frantic, heavy. Marlene opened her eyes and sat up. She frowned when
she saw Peter's red face filled with panic as he ran full pelt back towards them, huffing and
gasping. When he reached them he paused for a few seconds to get air back into his lungs. "Shit,"
the boy wheezed. "Oh, shit."
"Pete," said Sirius, leaping to his feet and rushing to meet him. "What happened? What's wrong?"
Peter let out a shuddering breath. "Oh, shit," he said again.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
As Remus walked through the makeshift encampment the pack had made for the night, on a stretch
of dirt, rocks, and grass that endeavored to sprout through the dry soil, he received nods and smiles
from the werewolves that he passed. He didn't know all their names, and he was sure they didn't
know his, but there was a kinsmanship attached to those nods and smiles, an understanding that he
and they were one and the same. It added a certain bounce to his step, and Remus was sure it had
been a long time since there had been discernible bounciness to any one of his steps.
He found where Eve had settled for the evening and dropped next to her. "I think I'm close," he
told her.
She cracked an eye open. "Close to what?"
"A revelation. I was meditating with Koza this morning and I felt something. A- A calm storm
within, you know?"
"No."
"I don't know." Remus threw his hands up. "It felt significant."
"Then I'm sure it was."
"Thank you."
They were quiet for a brief time. Then she broke the silence. "If you've come to me for sex, then
I'm very sorry, but-"
"What?" Remus looked at her, appalled. "No! I just thought we could talk."
"Good. But don't go getting any ideas now."
"I won't!"
"I know how filthy your mind is."
"Me?"
"Incorrigible, you are."
Remus was speechless.
"I'm joking, by the way," she said after a few seconds.
"You…"
"Do you want to have sex?"
"I…"
"I'm being serious."
"Are you though?"
"Definitely. Last chance, sex or no?"
"I… if sex were a legitimate option that is on the table, and- and the table was a real table and not a
trap table designed to make me look silly, then I suppose, I suppose I could be… potentially, I
mean, if you want, but I-"
"Yes," she said, taking his hand and getting to her feet. "Yes is all that was required there, Remus."
"Right," he said, joining her in standing.

"You're funny," she told him.
"I'm really not," he said exasperatedly.
She started leading him off, away from the pack, when there was suddenly a commotion of
shouting and cries. They turned, watched all the werewolves gathering in one spot. The two ran
back, pushing their way through the crowd.
"Dead?" said one werewolf. "How can he be dead?"
"They snuck up on him, I think. Nasty humans."
"I knew they were no good."
Remus and Eve reached the front, and what they saw made them freeze on the spot, and Remus'
heart plummeted.
Garzhand knelt on the ground, weeping, and Torza stood behind him, head bowed, both their faces
a picture of grief.
Before them, Koza's body lay on the ground. The old man was unscathed, his wrinkled skin
unharmed. But his eyes were open, unseeing, and his chest was still. Remus recognized the effects
of the killing curse immediately. Koza had been murdered.
Not far from his body were two more corpses. There were claw marks in their faces, their torsos
now ruins of blood and shredded meat, their mutilated faces twisted in terror and agony.
So extensive was the damage that it took Remus a good few seconds to realize he was looking at
the remains of Johan and Helena.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"How did this happen?" asked Sirius. "Did you see it?"
"No," said Peter frantically. "I got here and they were gone."
Blood was splattered over the stones and dirt where Johan and Helena were supposed to have been
watching the werewolves from. Marlene found their omnioculars on the ground, the lenses
smashed to pieces. "Reparo," she said, tapping her wand to them. The lenses repaired themselves
and she held the omnioculars up to her eyes, scanning the expanse ahead of them to where the pack
had set up their camp.
"I see them," she said. "They're… dead."
Sirius cursed. Peter breathed out heavily.
"The werewolves surround them. There's another body on the ground. It's the old guy that does
their exercise sessions. The leader is crying over his body. Remus is there."
"Is he okay?"
"Yeah, he seems fine. Shocked."
"Yeah, I think we all are." He turned and cursed again.
Marlene lowered the omnioculars and watched as Sirius started to pace.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. We know they were killed here. Right here, which means it was almost
definitely unprovoked. They must have been spotted."
"And the old dead guy?" asked Peter.
"They must have put up a fight."
"Those two didn't look like killers to me," said Marlene.
"Nor to me," said Sirius. "But I doubt the old guy dropped dead by himself."
"Hey," said Peter, looking down. He stooped, then came up with a wand in his hands. "Is this one
of theirs?"
"Must be," said Marlene, frowning and taking it from him. "I can't say I committed the looks of
their wands to memory though."
"As far as we've seen, these werewolves don't keep their wands on their person," Sirius said.
"So if it's one of their wands, where's the other one?" asked Peter, scanning the ground.
"Taken, maybe," said Sirius. "Or maybe they didn't even get the chance to pull it out of their
pocket."
Peter swallowed. "What should we do? Should we rescue Remus and get out of here?"
Sirius looked back at Marlene. "Remus is fine? It doesn't look like they've managed to associate
him with Johan and Helena?"
She shook her head. "Didn't look like it."
"Then there's nothing to rescue. His cover isn't blown. We need to give him a chance to do his job,
otherwise we did all this for nothing."
"How much longer can we wait, though?" asked Marlene. "It's just you, me, and Pete out here
now. Millicent fucked off back to England, and those two just got bloody butchered. Those
werewolves don't seem to be our biggest fans. At what point do we write this all off as
unsuccessful, grab Remus, and go home?"
"We have to trust that Remus will get this done," said Sirius firmly. "He just needs more time."
"How much more, though?"
When Sirius answered, he looked just as unsure as she felt. "As much as it takes."
Marlene nodded. They were just going to wing it. That's what he meant. She had her reservations
about this plan, but Sirius knew Remus much better than she did. She had to trust them.
She lifted the omnioculars back to her eyes and watched.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"How did this happen, Torza?" asked Garzhand quietly.
Remus and the rest of the werewolves watched in silence as the two cousins stood over Koza's
body.
"They must have snuck up on him," replied Torza. "I found them by the lake, your father already
dead. They attacked me, too, but I made quick work of them. Do you recognize them, Garzhand?
They were with that witch, back at the Life Day celebrations. They were the ones trying to
convince all the creatures to join their fight against Death Eaters. It didn't take long for them to
reveal their true colors."
Garzhand said nothing. Remus frowned, knowing full well that Johan and Helena would never do
such a thing.
"It's a sign, cousin," Torza continued. "Those on their side are no friends of ours. We must take up
Rabastan Lestrange's offer and join the Death Eaters to keep the pack safe. Tonight is the full
moon, and we can reach Berlin by dusk. If we do right by the Dark Lord, we will be ensuring a
better future for our pack for generations. The time is now!"
Garzhand looked up at him, his expression unreadable, and still he said nothing.
Torza seemed to decide to push harder, revealing a wand from the loose rags he wore. "I took this
wand from their person. Look at it, Garzhand - this is the wand they used to kill your father. Look
at it! They are weak, and cowardly, and-"
"Let's see that," cut in Remus, extending a hand. He had no idea where his words came from, they
simply sprang from his lips. Eve stared at him, the other werewolves looked surprised. Garzhand
raised an eyebrow, and Torza frowned. Remus pulled his own wand from within his loose rags,
hand still outstretched for the wand in Torza's grasp. "We can verify your claims quite easily."
"Who are you, boy, to verify anything I say?" Torza asked softly. "Who do you think you are? You
have among us for scarcely two weeks, and yet you think-"
"He's a good kid," interjected someone in the crowd. Remus looked for the source quickly, and
found a face he recognized from meditation sessions with Koza.
"He's smart," someone else said.
"He's one of us."
Remus' heart swelled, but he didn't allow himself to get distracted.
"Remus," said Garzhand, looking at him and speaking slowly, "what are you implying?"
"I don't believe Torza," Remus said, holding Garzhand's gaze. "These people have nothing to gain
from attacking us, nor is it in character for them to do so. Torza's story is extremely convenient for
him, as he has been trying to convince you to join You-Know-Who for weeks at the very least. I
think he orchestrated this. I think these people were quite likely following us, and Torza found
them and realized he can use them to further his goals. The only thing in his way was your father.
And the only mistake he made in his execution is presenting us with one of their wands."
"Ridiculous," snorted Torza.
"Give him the wand, Torza," said Garzhand quietly.
Torza snapped his gaze to his cousin. He stared at him for a moment, then he nodded once, sharp,
and handed the wand to Remus. "In a moment you will see that this child is delusional, cousin. I
expect an apology."
Remus tapped the wand with his own. " Prior Incantanto."
Out of the wand, a wisp of smoke, within which a ghostly image materialized. It was a small flash
of green light. Evidence of the killing curse.
Torza grinned. "See? They killed him. Feeling foolish now, boy? What about you, Garzhand?"
"It's still going," said Remus.
Next was a ghostly image of fire being applied to a pale vision of logs of wood, like a campsite
- Incendio, the fire charm. That image vanished, replaced by what looked like a pair of omnioculars
floating through the air - Accio, a summoning charm.
"All fairly innocent," said Remus. "You said they killed Koza, and then attacked you, Torza?" The
next ghostly image to appear was a spoon floating around a bowl of porridge - a levitation spell,
most likely. "There is no evidence of that here. No offensive magic besides one killing curse, right
at the end, which could have been done by anyone. You said this wand was used to kill Koza
before you even reached them, and they attacked you right after. Where's the evidence of that?
There is one killing spell here, and that is all."
Torza wasn't looking at the ghostly images now. He was glaring at Remus, as though trying to
murder him with his eyes.
"From what I see here, I think you found them, took them by surprise, and killed them with your
bare hands. You then saw an opportunity to take your uncle out of the picture by using them as
scapegoats. You used this wand to kill Koza, then you brought all three bodies back here."
Torza clenched his jaw. As far as Remus could tell, the man had two options. He could continue to
lie against what could quickly become overwhelming evidence, or he could admit to what he had
done before reiterating his plea for action to his cousin.
Torza turned to Garzhand and chose the latter. "Koza was misleading you, Garzhand," he said
quickly. "We need to involve ourselves in this war before it is too late. If the Dark Lord wins and
we didn't help him, what will become of us? I had to do what I did, but some good can still come
from it! We must march upon Berlin-"
"You killed my father, Torza?" Garzhand asked quietly.
"Yes, I did. But you must understand-"
Garzhand grabbed him by the neck, pulled him down while wrapping a forearm around his throat.
His other hand found Torza's jaw, and Torza's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.
Garzhand twisted sharply, and snapped his cousin's neck.
There was complete silence, broken only by Torza's body hitting the ground with a dull thump. "He
was right," said Garzhand, his voice dangerously quiet as he stood above the four dead bodies.
"We cannot remain idle. The pack must join the war." He turned to face the gathered pack with a
smile that failed to reach his eyes. "But we will not join the Death Eaters. Torza will not get what
he wanted. Their side is cowardly, and I will not allow them to win." He breathed in deeply,
closing his eyes. Upon breathing out, he opened them again. There was a glint in them that Remus
had come to associate with impending violence. "The full moon is tonight. We will march upon
Berlin before nightfall, and turn the Death Eater army into a sea of corpses. They will get what
they asked for."
There were murmurs of assent from the other werewolves.

"For Koza," Garzhand yelled.
There were cheers now, and cries of approval. "For Koza!"
Remus looked at Eve. She was grinning at him, her eyes shining with what seemed almost like
admiration. His little display had clearly impressed her. Hell, it had impressed himself.
The pack gathered their things, and started moving again. The pace was fast now, filled with
purpose.
Remus couldn't wipe the grin off his face. His mission was a success.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"They're moving now," said Marlene. "They're packing up and leaving."
"Where to?" asked Peter.
"Oh, I'll just wait for one of them to hold up a sign for me to read, shall I? I don't know, Pete. But
they're going somewhere."
"You said Remus did a lot of talking before they started moving?" Sirius asked, and she nodded.
"Then he might have succeeded. He might have somehow turned this awful situation into an
opportunity to convince them to join us."
"That's a big might," Marlene said, frowning as she watched the encampment. "Although I have to
say, a lot of the werewolves are patting him on the back. It seems whatever they're doing now, it
had something to do with what Remus was saying."
"We have to assume, then, that he managed to do his job," said Sirius, grinning now.
Peter pumped a fist. "Yes!" Then he frowned. "So what now?"
"Now," said Sirius, "we follow. We follow, we wait, and we watch."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Averill Pening roared in pain, but Taureau didn't let up, continued to blast him with a stream of
ethereal, silver light. "Destroy it," Taureau yelled to the others.
"Little busy over here," Anton yelled back from across the room. The body of Acustus Proudfoot
had changed significantly. His teeth were now sharp, his eyes yellow, nails long and throat scabbed
over. He snapped his jaws at Anton and Anton kicked him back. "Wand," yelled Anton. James
threw his wand to the man, and Anton summoned a burst of flame that struck Acustus in the chest,
hurling what was left of the dead man into the wall.
"Wand," yelled James. Anton threw it back and James caught it just in time to stop a collapsing
bookcase from falling on him.
The room, the whole house, was coming apart.
James, Lily, and Anton were on the far side of the room, battling Acustus, who had quickly turned
hostile, while preventing anything from interrupting Taureau's work.
Taureau, for his part, held Pening in place while they attempted to exorcise him. He was a
powerful spirit, and the house seemed to obey his every command.
"Destroy it," Taureau yelled again.
"On it," said Edgar, bursting into the room with the Prewett brothers right behind him. The three of
them aimed their wands at the source of all this trouble.
In the middle of the room, a green orb floated in the air. It was the ominous light they had all seen
from outside the house, illuminating the plains through the window, glowing with almost blinding
brilliance. It was a murky green, but somehow electric. It made the hairs on Taureau's arm stand up
just by being near it. The Eye of Zharic Háog.
Edgar, Gideon, and Fabian pointed their wands at The Eye simultaneously, aiming red beams of
light into the orb.
NO, screamed Pening. STOP, YOU'LL KILL ME. YOU'LL DESTROY MY HOUSE!
"You're already dead," said Taureau through gritted teeth. "And this house is old, tacky, and
horribly furnished."
I HATE YOU.
"Terribly sorry."
The orb burst, the room filled with green light.
The light faded.
No, it didn't fade. It was everywhere. Pink, golden, blue rivers of light flowed up, around them in
impossible patterns and motions. Averill Pening disappeared. Everything else but the seven of them
disappeared, and all they could do was stare in wonder at the swirling waves of light all around.
The light started to dim. The colors began to blend. Taureau blinked, and suddenly they were on a
road.
It was evening. The sun was fading, a chill wind settling in. On one side of the road was a field, a
line of trees in the distance. On the other, a gas station. There was a sign by the road, and Fabian
kicked Anton. "What does that say?"
"You could just ask nicely."
Fabian lifted his wand.
"Okay, okay! It says Berlin, three kilometers. But I feel like you could have figured that out
yourself."
Edgar started walking to the gas station, and the rest of them followed.
"What's your plan?" asked Taureau.
"We'll have to make it through a checkpoint to get into the city, I imagine," Edgar said. "We'll act
like Muggles and drive right through it."
Gideon gasped excitedly. "Edgar, are we about to steal a car?"
They came to a battered, green Volkswagen parked outside the station. Edgar tapped his wand to
it, and there was a click as the doors unlocked. "Yes. Yes we are. Get in."
"Erm," said Lily, "Muggle cars seat five people, Edgar. There are seven of us."
"We can't alter it magically, it'll give away the fact that we're wizards," Edgar replied. "Someone's
going to have to sit on a lap."
They all looked at Lily, who glared. "What, because I'm the girl? Gideon, you can't sit on Fabian's
lap?"
Gideon shook his head sadly. "I'd crush him. Too much muscle."
"You would not crush me," Fabian snapped.
"I'd break you like a twig. Mum would kill me."
"Shut up."
Lily sighed. "This is bullshit. That's all I'll say about that." She looked at James. "Reckon you can
take my weight, Potter?"
He looked like he was trying very hard not to say something inappropriate. "I reckon so."
"Splendid," said Edgar. "We'll have to cast a disillusionment charm on you, Lily-"
"No need," said James. He dug into his pocket and brought out a brown, silvery cloak that
shimmered in the light, almost like a liquid. "I have an Invisibility Cloak."
Taureau had never seen anything like it. It was the most exquisite of its kind he had ever laid eyes
upon.
"Brilliant," said Edgar. "Mr Barkley and I in the front, James, Lily, and the Prewetts in the back.
That takes care of everything."
"Not yet," said Anton. "Where shall I sit? Not on anyone's lap, I'll tell you that much."
"I already have a place in mind for you, Windstrum." Edgar tapped his wand again, and the boot of
the car sprang open. "In you get."
"You must be joking."
"I rarely joke."
"Have I not proven myself to you all?" Anton demanded.
"No," they chorused.
The car set off shortly after, the seven of them cramped, exhausted, having taken beatings both
mentally and physically, but at long last they were on their way.
"Berlin," murmured Edgar, piling on the speed, "here we come."
The engine purred almost in response.
"This is utter bullshit," called Anton from the boot.
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Of Arrogant Toerags and Rabid Redheads

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/31346966.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Of Arrogant Toerags and Rabid Redheads

"Does she not know how to wash a dish?"

"Yeah Mum, I've got this."

Because she did, in fact, have this.

"Her new dog, Terror, passed away."

Vernon cleared his throat again.

"She sat on it."

Now that put a smile on Lily's face.

She was definitely in a good mood.

I don't need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!

"For there once was a dog named Terror."

"And Terror had a very good life."

"But my sister's boyfriend's sister killed him."

Lily. Lily, please!

"And soon she'll be his wife."

She looked at her reflection in a plate.

She wiped the plate off, and looked at it again.

"Not too hard at all," she decided.

"Terror got sat on, Terror got sat on."

"I am terminally ill," said Mr Potter.

James and Sirius stared at him in stunned silence.

"I found out two weeks ago."

"You're quite right, James. So then tell me how this is possible."

An encouraging nod from Mr Potter.

"Only one casualty," Sirius said quietly.

"Lethargic, weakened, no appetite," James listed off quickly, not listening.

The two boys looked at each other, frowning.

"What are those symptoms?" James wondered.

"A variant of Spattergroit?"

"Can't be, the skin wouldn't pale. Could it be a curse?"

Sirius nodded and stood, too.

"Boys, sit. Please."

"I'll find a cure," James said immediately.

"Lack of imagination, I'd expect," James hypothesized.

"We are quite imaginative," Sirius nodded.

"I thought I'd find you up here."

Sirius sat down next to him.

"We could still do it, you know."

James waited a long moment before he answered. "It would be a waste."

Sirius hesitated. "A waste of time?"

A nod. "That's what the old man said."

James snorted. "Sounds like a real role-model."

"Right. And so your point was...?"

James hoped his best friend could make something of it all.

"We need to do better. Be better."

Sirius said nothing.

It wasn't coming out the way he wanted.

"More how?" Sirius asked at last.

Sirius considered this for a moment, before responding.

"If a First Year is a snotty little brat-"

"Then we can prank them."

"You're right, Evans, that is a lot for some owl treats."

"You're ridiculous, Potter."

Lily's smile grew wider. "Indeed it is, Potter."

Lily's smile now, sarcastic or not, vanished.

"So your solution is to do the same to them?"

"Well it certainly isn't to help them, that's for sure!"

She narrowed her eyes at him even more.

"Hate isn't what ends wars, Potter. Compassion, love, forgiveness-"