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Chapter Text

The crisp December air leaked into the stuffy atmosphere of the Hog’s Head as the door was poked open, fresh snow melting in cigar smoke, sweat, and the stale scent of butterbeer that permeated the room. The woman who slipped in was wearing a colorful loose-fitting tie-dyed dress that hung off her frail figure. She was a tall woman, stooping through the doorway, though more by habit than need. She wore an old knit maroon sweater with holes worn through around the sleeves end from where her ringed fingers picked at the loose thread. She had on a winter hat, perhaps the only part of her outfit appropriate for the weather, though she yanked it off as soon as the door shut behind her, stuffing it in an oversized pocket in her sweater.

On that Tuesday evening, December the 18th of 1979, the bar was unusually crowded. There were four patrons and a single barman scattered about the rather large room, almost deliberately not interacting with each other. The witch by the door was the closest, eyes flickering over to the woman as she walked in, though her interest did not last long. She was carrying something in an unusually large bag stuffed beneath the table that would prod at her ankles every few minutes before the witch gave it a swift kick, returning the crossword in front of her. The man in the corner had a hat tipped over his face, deep even breathing giving the impression he had long since fallen asleep, and the wizard at the bar only stared at his glass of fire whiskey, watching the ice melt.

In the middle of the bar, seated primly at a table, was the strangest man of the bunch. He had waist length white hair, properly aged, and a long white beard that was pulled together by a colorful tie around his belly. He wore a thick purple cloak with elegant silver trimmings that gleamed in the scattered light of the bar, and a traditional wizard hat upon his head, decorated with elegant gemstones. His name was Albus Dumbledore.

He was sipping pleasantly on some tea, twinkling eyes glancing at the door, as if he were waiting for someone.

He was.

He glanced over when the woman slipped in, face sparking pleasantly with recognition, even as she stumbled to the table, hand raking through her untidy brown hair before catching in the messy bun she had tied. She carried with her a large messenger bag which she gripped tightly to her chest.

“Ms. Trelawney,” Albus said calmly as she took her seat, gesturing to the bar man for another cup. “I’m pleased you could make it.”

Wild eyes flicked up to him and the woman opened her mouth, seeming ready to respond. She closed it. Opened it again. And then snapped her jaw shut. She stared at her old headmaster. Sybil Trelawney had changed much and also very little since her time at Hogwarts, some five years back. Her face had fallen into harder lines, and grey had already begun dotting her hairline. But the most prominent change was the weariness that clung to her. Deep purple circles hung below her eyes. Silence permeated the dank air between them before the barman finally brought over second cup of tea and set it in front of the woman. She grasped the cup in her hands, silver rings clanking on the ceramic. She took a long sip, eyes slipping shut for just a moment.

“Sybil, please,” she finally said, setting the cup down and seeming to gather her bearings. “It will be easier that way, I expect.” Her eyes darted around the room. “She’ll be here soon; she was running late – later than me that is – and you’ll want to invite Professor McGonagall down as well. You’ve a student to fetch.”

Albus frowned, blue eyes sharpening on the woman. “I apologize, Sybil. I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

The woman let out a slightly delirious laugh. “No, I expect you don’t. The meeting is still here tonight?” she asked.

Dumbledore’s blue eyes hardened but his voice stayed quietly pleasant. “Just what exactly are you referring to?”

Sybil met the man’s gaze steadily. “The Order of the Phoenix.”

Dumbledore’s eyes bore into her own. “I expect I just filled our Divination posting,” he said. Sybil actually smiled.

“You’ve done much more than that, sir.” As she was talking, she pulled something out of her messenger bag, a colorful book with the drawing of a boy playing Quidditch on the front. The gold lettering glinted in the low lighting of the bar. “You need to clear this bar, except that man in the corner,” she said, pointing the one who was sleeping. The man seemed to stiffen, almost imperceptibly as he was mentioned.

Albus raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, shooting a look to the barman who suddenly stood up.

“Bar’s closed!” he yelled and before he was even done speaking, the witch by the door was out of her seat, grabbing her twitching bag. The man sitting by the bar took his time settling his tab and the one in the corner stood quickly, as if wanting to slip into the shadows.

“Not just yet, Severus,” Albus called and the man in the hat froze. It took another moment for the bar to clear but once it finally did, the barman waved his hand at the door, flipping the OPEN sign around in a show of wandless magic that in any other moment, would have been quite impressive. But instead, he immediately returned to cleaning glasses, as if nothing of note had occurred.

Albus glanced down at the book in front of him. Emblazoned in the golden writing on the cover, now legible, were the words Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. His twinkling blue eyes rose again to meet the woman across from him, a new respect flickering in his stare.

“I expect we have a lot to discuss.”

Chapter Text

James Potter was considering skipping the Order meeting that day, and would have done it too, if not for the Patronus he received, just past seven, requesting his attendance. The day had been strange.

He’d planned for it to be quite normal. Going into the office that morning early, hoping to catch up on the ever-growing pile of paperwork that Scrimgeour was always finding for him, the training supervisor seeming constantly suspicious of James’ activities. The Auror office had opinions on vigilantism. Conflicting opinions. It did not bode well for his career.

But eventually James had managed to make just enough headway in the pile to convince himself to pop back home for lunch, only to find his wife in tears, staring at the hue of a potion in front of her, face deathly white.

Lily had been late. She’d brewed a pregnancy testing potion. It had come back positive.

Needless to say, that was it for the rest of James’ day. He fire-called into work to let them know he wouldn’t be back and spent the rest of the afternoon talking with Lily.

James had stared at Lily for a long time, watching the small wrinkle that formed on the bridge of her nose that let him know she was deep in thought and attempting to interrupt said thought would be fruitless. The small bulge in her mouth that said she was biting her tongue. It used to stick out a bit, between her lips when she was calculating a particularly difficult Potions conversion, but at some point in fifth year she had lost that, self-conscious from constant comments from the Slytherins they had shared class with that year. James missed it sometimes.

Maybe the decision should have been an easy one. James had always wanted children. Perhaps that wasn’t quite a secret. His own parents had struggled with fertility issues, James being born quite late in both of their lives, the only child Euphemia could ever carry to term. A miracle baby.

Sirius had laughed when James told him that, only shaking his head and saying that it made sense. James supposed it did. He was an only child and quite dotted upon, but it’d been a lonely childhood, despite it being a good one. Lonely until Hogwarts that was.

It always made him anxious, though. The idea of starting a family. His parents were so old when he was growing up. When the three went out in Muggle London, most people would assume that Effie and Monty were James’s grandparents. James didn’t want that for his children.

But he and Lily were still so young.

It wasn’t unusual. There were several people in their year already starting families. A side effect of the war. But James and Lily weren’t only living through a war, they were fighting in it. Could they bring a child into this world, knowing what they knew?

Ultimately, the answer had been yes. Maybe it was foolish, a little rash, but when Lily’s face broke into a grin at the end of their talk, the tip of her tongue pushing through her teeth, James leaning in helplessly for a kiss, all he felt was unadulterated joy. The swooping feeling of anticipation.

Of course, now they were running late to the meeting.

“Alright, dear?” Lily asked and James couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at her wording. The pair Apparated to the doorstep of the Hog’s Head, Lily reaching out the give his hand a soft squeeze before they went in.

“Of course,” James said lightly. They had agreed not to tell anyone right away, not until their first check up with a Healer, at least, but James was sure that his friends would be able to see it on his face the moment they walked through the door. He was never great at holding a secret.

Lily stared at him fondly. “You’ll be fine. You can manage not telling Sirius for a few hours,” she said.

James grimaced. “You don’t know that,” he pointed out. “I feel guilty for keeping this from him already. I might just blurt it out the moment I lay eyes on him.”

Lily mock scowled. “James Fleamont Potter, you will not,” she said sternly, pulling open the door.

It seemed like every member of the Order of the Phoenix was present at the pub that night, more tables and chairs than James had ever seen out of the floor were scattered across the room, including a deliberately empty one at the front. Aberforth was at the bar, but instead of doing his usual work, he was leaned on the counter, talking to a man James recognized at Elphias Doge.

“I can’t believe they got old Elphie to come out again,” James whispered at Lily as he scanned the room. Elphias Doge has been a member of the Order since its inception in 1973, but ever since Dumbledore began recruiting younger witches and wizards, he had taken his rest. Sometimes it was easy for James to forget that this was the second war for some of them. Elphias was a source of knowledge, a sounding board, but he rarely attended meetings anymore.

Also at the bar, sat Dorcas Meadows and Marlene McKinnon, talking softly to each other. Marlene’s choppy blond hair was even shorter that James had last seen it, while Dorcas’s dark braids fell well beyond her shoulders. Marlene gave him a toothy grin as he walked in and he shot her and Dorcas a wave.

The two had had a mutual crush on each other nearly their entire time at Hogwarts, which James unfortunately had to hear quite a bit about from Marlene, both on and off the Quidditch pitch. Dorcas had been in the year above them, and a Slytherin, making it somewhat difficult for James to carefully orchestrate the pair of them mysteriously finding themselves alone together. Preferably in an empty classroom. Or a broom cupboard. They’d finally started dating the year before, much to the relief of every single person around them.

Seated at a nearby table were the other Order veterans: Edgar Bones, Caradoc Dearborn and Alastor Moody. Bones was an Unspeakable, well into his thirties now, though his youngest brother, James knew, had only been a year older than James himself. He was an unassuming man, with square glasses and a small smile. Not the sort of person James would ever expect to be friends with Alastor Moody, whose paranoia was infamous among the younger members of the Order. Moody sat in the corner, his back to the wall, giving him the best vantage point over the entire room, which he scanned constantly, like he expected something to jump from the shadows.

Caradoc had been an old friend of James’s parents, and James remembered seeing the man many times growing up, sitting around his kitchen table late into the evening. It made interacting with him hard, in the Order, still feeling six and in Kneazle pajamas. It was even harder now that James’s parents were gone.

Next to them Benjy Fenwick, Emmeline Vance, and Gideon and Fabian Prewett were chatting amicably. Benjy was drawing out something on the table that the four were debating over. Occasionally, Fabian’s eyes would wander from the conversation and James could only assume they were talking about something obscenely Ravenclaw-ish. Fabian caught James’ gaze as he and Lily stepped it, raising a hand in greeting.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a familiar voice called off to the side and James was grinning before he even met the grey eyes of his best friend. “The Potters finally arrive. Got anything to tell us lovebirds?” Sirius asked coyly.

Lily immediately turned to him. “James Potter – “

James raised his hands. “I swear, I didn’t tell him,” he protested. Sirius threw his head back and let out a barking laugh. He was seated around a table in the middle with Peter and, to James’s mild surprise, Remus, the former looking strangely nervous and the latter trying to hold back laughter of his own, shaking his head. James gave Remus a small smile as he sat down, pulling out the chair for Lily, who slid in next to him.

“Thought you were out of town?” James said before he could stop himself, Lily’s sharp elbow jabbing into his side as soon as the words left his mouth. Sirius’s grin immediately fell off his face, a familiar scowl settling on his lips. Remus glanced over nervously, gaze flittering back to James.

“Change of plans,” he said lightly.

Remus’s frequent and often unexplained absences were something of a sore spot for Sirius, who shared a flat, at least when he was in London, with the man. The pair had moved in together not long after Hogwarts and James had never quite been sure if it had been for the better. He knew that Sirius and Remus had a … complicated relationship, to say the very least. James could feel its presence in the tension that settled between them.

Peter glanced nervously at James, offering a small but anxious hello to break the silence. The war had seemed to age Peter, quieting his friend in ways that James hadn’t expected. The blond-haired boy looked mostly tired now, which James supposed was to be expected, if he was having to weather Sirius and Remus on his own before he and Lily had arrived. Lily offered him a light kiss on the cheek as he greeted her, which had Peter ducking his head.

“You owe me ten sickles, Moony,” Sirius said after a moment, small smile on his face, the words like a peace offering. Remus took them gladly, shaking his head in a smile.

“You two were betting?” James jumped in, willing the tension to leech from the air.

“Padfoot was certain you two were keeping secrets, given your late arrival. We would have made bets about you even showing, but we assumed you got the Patronus?”

James frowned. “Everyone got one then?” he asked, brow furrowing. He’d never been summoned to an Order meeting before; Dumbledore had always been very transparent: you were here willingly. You could leave at any time, no questions asked.

Remus’s lips thinned. “From what I could tell. Dedalus is out of town with Dung again. Frank and Alice are the only ones not – oh, I spoke too soon.” Just as Remus finished speaking, the door to the Hog’s Head popped open again, cool air blasting into the room, making James shiver.

Frank and Alice Longbottom made their way inside, a serious look to both their faces. James raised a hand in greeting, though, and Frank grinned back waving hello. The pair sat down at the table in the back.

“Any idea what – “ but before James could finish, the door to the back popped open and the familiar figure of Albus Dumbledore slipped out, door carefully shutting behind him, like he was trying to keep a wild animal inside.

Dumbledore was dressed in his typical colorful robes, beard tied together, wearing what looked like a night cap on his head. He wrinkled face flickered with age for only a moment before the man smiled warmly at them, blue eyes holding a strange gleam.

“I wanted to thank you all for coming, I know I asked many of you to attend tonight in particular, and I must apologize in advance for the length of time I will be keeping you here.” James sat straighter in his seat, leaning forward. “I fear we have much to discuss this evening, and in the days that will follow, and much to learn.”

“What are you talking about, Albus?” Alastor Moody asked gruffly. The Head Auror leaned back against the wall in the back corner of the room, eyes darting around the space in a way that had James wondering if the older man could see things the rest of them couldn’t.

Dumbledore only smiled pleasantly.

“I happened across some information today in the most peculiar of places. While fielding prospects for our Divination Professor posting, I was presented with a unique opportunity that I believe is the answer to ending the war.” Dumbledore said calmly, his tone failing spectacularly at matching his words. There was a beat of silence.

“Ending – “

“You can’t mean –“

“Are you – “

“A prophecy?”

Dumbledore held up a hand to the sudden din, his blue eyes holding steady across the room as the Order eventually fell silent. James could feel his pulse quickening and he instinctively glanced over at Lily, his own shocked expression echoed on her face.

“Albus,” Caradoc started again after a moment, voice strangled. “What – exactly – do you mean?”

“Before I go any further, I feel compelled to reiterate a promise I made to each of you when I asked you to join the Order,” Dumbledore spoke gravely. “A promise that all you had to do was ask, and you would be let out. No one should feel compelled to be here.”

In the front of the room, a dark-skinned witch named Dorcas Meadows raised a single eyebrow. “You’re reminding us of this after claiming to have a way to win the war?”

Dumbledore seemed to consider her words. “While I do believe what we do here tonight will lead to the end of this war, I cannot claim that it will provide us with a clear path,” he admitted.

Dorcas furrowed her eyebrows. “Well, what are we supposed to be doing?”

“Seven books have come into my possession, written about a possible future, should it not be changed.” Dumbledore’s voice was grave as his words sunk in.

“Change the future?” asked Edgar Bones, leaning forward next to Dorcas. “Are you talking about messing with time?” James’s eyes snapped back to Dumbledore at the question. There was a strange edge to Edgar’s voice that stilled the air.

Dumbledore only frowned at this question. “It is possible,” he started slowly, “that time is wanting to be messed with,” he answered nonsensically.

James was trying to wrap his mind around this conversation. Messing with time? James was an Auror in training, he didn’t claim to have a deep knowledge of time travel, but he knew that nasty things befell wizards who played with time. But as far as James knew, meddling with time was limited to three-hour periods and a time-turner, and there were all sorts of rules in order to prevent time-loops. Books from the future? This was something entirely separate. But it was also clearly something that Dumbledore wanted to do, believed in doing and that meant a lot to James. It clearly meant a lot to everyone in the room.

“No one’s leaving,” Edgar said after a beat. It was more an observation than a command, but Edgar’s eyes darted across the room, as if daring someone to challenge him. No one did.

“Well then,” Dumbledore said, his eyes gleaming once again. “I suppose we should start with introductions.”

Caradoc snorted. “Think everyone knows each other quite well at this point, Albus,” he said. Dumbledore gave him a knowing smile and Moody narrowed his eyes at the pair.

“You got someone in the back room,” Moody accused, eyes darting to the door as if he could will himself to see through it.

“We will be joined tonight by several guests,” Albus continued like this was perfectly normal information. James’s heart spiked. Guests? Secret vigilante groups did not simply invite guests to their secret meetings. Nervous energy filled the air.

“I will personally vouch for their silence and loyalty, and ask that when they come out, everyone remain calm,” he spoke the last words very deliberately, as if he expected the exact opposite to occur. James reached out and grabbed Lily’s hand, suddenly feeling strangely nervous. He felt like Dumbledore’s eyes always seemed to find him in the crowd. As if the old man was watching him in particular. It made James uneasy.

“Dramatic,” someone to James’s right muttered and James wanted to agree, but just then the door to the back room pushed open.

The buildup certainly did not justify Minerva McGonagall striding through the door, velvet hair pinned into a tight bun, head held high. It might have justified the next woman, who wore a colorful dress and an old sweater that slipped from her shoulder. The woman was clutching a brown messenger bag like her life depended on it and her hair pulled into an erratic bun. James had absolutely no idea who she was.

The next person was slightly more familiar. Pandora Trelawney, now Lovegood, and it was her presence that made the woman in front of her click. Her older sister. James reckoned her name was some sort of instrument or something similar. He didn’t have long to dwell on it because the fourth person to step through the door squeezed the air from his lungs.

Severus Snape. His dark hair was slicked back, pointed nose newly crooked, a scab forming on the bridge like he had recently been punched – which made James irrationally want to smile. He moved quickly, sticking close to Pandora though James could not recall the pair ever being acquainted. His dark eyes stayed on the floor.

Just as he was working up a protest, a word – any word really – the next person walked through the door, head held a little higher, but gaze darting around the room as if he was nervous. Or perhaps he was looking for someone.

“Regulus?” Sirius’s shock was evident in his tone. Sure enough, the grey eyes of Regulus Black snapped to his brother. Something flickered in them, too quick for James to read before it was hidden behind a familiar blank mask. Regulus offered his brother what might generously be referred to as a thin-lipped smile.

Sirius stared back at his brother, face unreadable. Regulus was finishing his seventh year at Hogwarts, just a short trek up the snow-covered hill that loomed in the background of the village. James had absolutely no idea what warranted his presence here, especially considering the rumors of his affiliations.

Though … James’s eyes flickered to Snape. Of Snape’s affiliations, James was sure. He knew because he’d held Lily all night while she cried about it, seeing his eyes behind a pale white mask, destruction around them.

“Quiet!” Dumbledore’s voice reverberated in the small bar, and it was the first time James noticed the room had filled with questions, whispers, even shouts, as the members of the Order eyed their guests. Dumbledore’s command seemed to suck the air out of the room.

“Albus – “ Caradoc started glancing at the two men who had just entered the room. “You must know –“

“I will reiterate my vouch,” interrupted Dumbledore. “For their silence and loyalty.” Both Snape and Sirius snorted, the pair sharing a slightly deranged look before the latter continued.

“Un-bloody-likely,” Sirius said, and James could tell he was trying to keep his voice steady. “There is no way in hell that my brother – “

“I’m your brother now?” Regulus’s quiet comment was almost inaudible over Pandora loudly interrupting,

“Everyone in this room is here for a reason, so if everyone could just sit the fuck down, we could explain ourselves,” the witch said loudly, a pleasant lilt in her tone despite her sharp words.

Most of the Order sat back down, suspicious glances darting at the newcomers. James felt like the world kept shifting beneath his feet, and he was just stumbling along, trying to get his legs beneath him again. He could hardly feel the death grip Lily was keeping on his hand, but he tried to give her a reassuring squeeze. He wished he knew what she was thinking right now, eyes trapped on her former best friend.

“Thank you,” Pandora continued after a moment of silence. She pursed her lips before turning to her sister. “Want to take this one Billie?”

Trelawney rolled her eyes, but she slung the messenger bag off her shoulder and rummaged through it. There was clearly an extension charm placed on the bag but all she pulled from it was an average sized book with a colorful cover. James couldn’t make out the title.

“About a year ago, I began to get plagued by visions in my sleep that I couldn’t remember when I woke,” she began before giving a pause, frowning. “I’m a Seer,” she said, a little defensively, like she expected someone to argue. No one did.

“They were of a distant future, of the Dark Lord, and of his eventual defeat,” Trelawney took another breath, as if realizing that this would need a moment to sink in.

“How distant,” Moody’s gruff voice interrupted the story. Pandora frowned disapprovingly at him.

“About twenty years,” Trelawney shrugged. The air was sucked from the room.

“Twenty – “ Lily choked out and James rubbed circles into the back of her hand. “The war goes on for twenty more years?” she asked.

Trelawney’s eyes flickered to Lily and then to James before darting away. She seemed almost … sad. Or guilty.

“Not continuously. Er – it’s rather complicated.”

“I think we are all beginning to understand that,” Dorcas said dryly. Next to her Marlene McKinnon squeezed her arm.

“The way to change it – the only way to change it – was to read it. Is to read it. Erm – don’t mind me, it gets confusing.” Trelawney rubbed her forehead, like she was developing a headache. James was sympathetic. “My sister and I began working on a way to create a spell what would put my visions into these books, written about a boy to be born about eight months from now.” Sybil paused again and this time her gaze undoubtably flickered over to him and Lily.

“A boy named Harry Potter.”

Lily sucked in a sharp breath and James felt himself go numb.

“Excuse me?” he asked, a little breathlessly. Harry. Harry? Harry Potter. James couldn’t think.

“You’re pregnant?” Alice asked, staring wide-eyed at Lily, who only managed a numb nod.

“Congratulations?” Peter offered next to them, voice hesitant, like he wasn’t sure this was something to congratulate.

“How long have you known?” Sirius asked, unable to hide his surprise. James glanced at him guiltily.

“A few hours?” James offered and Sirius stared at him dumbly. He could see Remus shaking in laughter.

“A few hours and you didn’t tell me?” Sirius’s voice rose several octaves. James glanced at Lily helplessly.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Lily said, smacking the back of Sirius’s head. “Sybil, please continue.”

Trelawney – Sybil – looked unsettled as everyone’s eyes returned to her and she shifted uncomfortably before letting out a sound of frustration. “It really is just best to read them. I’m not sure I could offer a much better explanation than that.”

Pandora reached over and touched her sister’s shoulder. “I think that is likely the best you are going to get. The first book starts a little over a year from now.”

“You’ve read them already?” Dorcas asked, eying the book in Sybil’s hand rather distrustfully. Pandora only smiled.

“I have not,” she said. “Only Sybil has some idea of what is in the books and even she doesn’t know it all. We thought it best – “ she trailed off.

“It has to be all of you, together. The Order,” Sybil cut in firmly.

Moody raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like to point out the obvious but those two,” his fingers pointed at Regulus and Severus in the corner, the latter seemingly trying to melt into the wall. “Are not in the Order. They’re Death Eaters.” Regulus actually flinched at the designation, glaring at Moody, jaw tight. Severus’s gaze, which had remained resolutely on the floor, finally lifted, something like defiance flashed in his eyes. Before anyone else could say more, however, Sybil cut in.

“They need to be here too,” was the only explanation she offered. Tense silence permeated the bar.

“Well,” Dumbledore said after a moment, pleasant smile never leaving his face. “We’ll need a couple more chairs,” he flicked his wand and six more chairs, and a table flew from the back, settling down in front of the newcomers. Each took their seat at a different pace.

“Who would like to read first?” he asked pleasantly, like this was a perfectly normal evening.

“I can,” Pandora said, plucking the book carelessly from her sister’s hands and clearing her throat dramatically. “ Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Chapter One. The Boy Who Lived.”

Chapter Text

Lily’s mind was traveling a kilometer a minute and her heart was keeping pace. She wanted to wake up – sure that this must be a dream – or a nightmare. James’s steady hand in her own was the only thing keeping her grounded at the moment. Severus sat not ten feet from her, determinedly avoiding her gaze. Everyone’s gaze, really. He stared only at his own shoes, his own sleeves, or Regulus Black, who sat next to him, relaxed as could be.

This is far too strange to be a dream, she thought. I could never make this up.

Pandora’s voice seemed to unnaturally fill the room, as if amplified. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were perfectly normal, thank you very much,” she started.

Lily let out a choked noise.

“Alright, love?” James asked worriedly and the bar fell silent around her. Lily stared back at her husband.

“You don’t recognize those names?” she asked, a little breathlessly. James frowned, clearly thinking.

“They sound somewhat familiar. I can’t place where, though,” he trailed off, clearly in thought. Lily hit his arm, fighting a smile.

“You were at their wedding, you nob head,” she said, fighting a laugh.

“You went to their wedding and you don’t remember, Jim?” Frank asked from behind them, a small smile on his face. “How much did you drink?”

“My sister married that ghoul Vernon Dursley,” Lily prompted, and she saw the light of recognition in James’s eyes.

“Oh sure, horrid man,” James nodded in approval. “They were a right match.”

Lily rolled her eyes suddenly aware the bar was waiting for them to finish their conversation. She glanced back at Pandora a little guiltily and the girl continued, but Lily’s mind was racing. What on earth did Petunia have to do with the downfall of Voldemort?

“They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense.”

It was clear to Lily that this was her sister.

“Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm … They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.”

James let out an indignant snort, but Lily’s heart was only pounding in her chest.

“Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; … This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that.”

Lily felt a strange swell in her heart at the mention of her child, her son. She would have a son. Her hand flittered over her stomach, as if the small clump of cells that would eventually become a human might react to his own mention in the story. She pressed against her stomach, as if hoping she might feel something. Her child. Harry.

She rolled the name over in her mind. Her and James barely discussed being pregnant, much less a name. Or at least they hadn’t before tonight. Harry.

Lily let out a small smile, pressing a hand to her belly.

“What do they mean ‘a child like that’?” Marlene asked, eyes flicking over Lily with curiosity. Lily glanced up and for the first time that night, Severus’s eyes flickered to her. Her jaw clenched and he immediately looked away.

“Magical,” Lily explained tersely, looking over now at her friend. “They mean with magic.”

Marlene’s lips pressed together tightly, and she nodded.

“I see,” was her only reply.

“When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, grey, Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange of mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. … It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map.”

James’s eyebrows shot up at that and his eyes darted over to Professor McGonagall questioningly.

“For a second, Mr. Dursley didn’t realize what he had seen - … why, that man had been older than he was, and wearing an emerald green cloak!”

There were definite shifts in the room as people began to realize what Vernon Dursley was describing. Wizards and witches apparently flagrantly violating the Statute of Secrecy.

“The nerve of him! ‘The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard – ‘”

“Wait what?” Sirius interrupted, leaning forward as if he were finally taking an interest in the story. Lily could feel her heart pounding louder, the sinking feeling of dread settling in her bones.

Pandora continued on as if there was no interruption.

“’yes, their son, Harry – ‘ … ‘Don’t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!’”

For a moment, it was completely quiet. And then –

“Gone?”

“Just like that?”

“In the first few pages?”

“But how?”

And that was an excellent question, Lily thought. How indeed. She wanted to know why wizards were talking about her child – her son – far more than she wanted to know why they were talking about Voldemort.

“Quiet!” Sybil snapped from the front of the room. She had been nervously chewing on her fingernails for the story so far, but she dropped her hands from her mouth. “The more you interrupt the longer this will take and let me assure you, this is nothing so far.”

“Nothing – “ started Moody but the old Auror actually fell silent as Sybil turned her glare on him. He let out an indignant huff, glaring back, but let Pandora continue.

“And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. … ‘Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they’ve had a downpour of shooting stars!’”

“People are being careless,” Regulus muttered at the front and Lily’s eyes snapped to him in surprise. He had barely spoken since coming through the door, and was sticking close to Pandora Lovegood’s side, though Lily remembered the pair being friends in school. Or, at least friendly, she qualified.

Pandora was a year older, only one behind Lily herself, but she recalls the girl frequently in the Library, poured over books silently next to the younger Slytherin. She always thought it was an odd match, the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw nearly as opposite as could be, but the affection was clearly mutual. This affection did not explain Regulus’s presence here, however, when he should be at the castle, studying for his end of term exams before winter break.

None of Lily’s questions were answered, however. Pandora brushed her long blond hair over her shoulder and pushed herself into Regulus’s side as she continued to read.

“’Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it’s not until next week folks’ … ‘Well, I just thought … maybe … it was something to do with … you know … her crowd.’”

Lily couldn’t stop the indignant scoff that came from her mouth. She tried to cover the hurt she felt in her heart with a blank face, knowing she didn’t quite manage me when James placed a warm hand on her arm. She gave him a shaky smile.

“Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. … Could all this have anything to do with the Potters?”

“Certainly, sounds like it does,” Frank said quietly behind her, his voice tinged with awe. Lily bit her lip. Nothing had happened yet, she hadn’t done anything yet, obviously, neither had James. It was unsettling, hearing herself talked about like this.

“Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he’d heard the name ‘Potter.’ … This man’s name was Albus Dumbledore.”

Lily felt her gaze settle on the wizard in front of her. He looked unruffled by his mention in the story, slightly bemused if anything, twinkling gaze on Pandora as she read. Lily’s heart beat fast, dread building. Something awful was coming, and she could feel it.

“Albus Dumbledore didn’t seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. … ‘Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.”

“I knew it!” Sirius explained triumphantly. Remus glanced at him, slightly amused.

“We all did,” he rolled his eyes. Sirius very maturely stuck his tongue out at Remus who gave him a small shove. Lily fought back a smile at the display, more relief than anything else.

For her part, Professor McGonagall watched the two boys with quiet exasperation, flashbacks of their school days surely flittering through her mind, but her gaze flickered quickly back to the book. She stared at it with apprehension, the cat Animagus looking slightly shocked by her early mention in the story.

“He turned to smile at the tabby, … ‘You can’t blame them,’ said Dumbledore gently. ‘We’ve had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.’”

“Eleven years,” huffed Moody suddenly. “1981.”

Lily crinkled her nose in confusion for a moment at the non sequitur before it sunk in. Dumbledore was nodding.

“Yes, that is what I was thinking as well.”

1981. That’s when Voldemort would be defeated. Lily’s heart raced. That was only in little over year. But what …? Her eyes snapped to Sybil. The distant future, she had said. Something wasn’t right.

Pandora continued easily with the story. “’I know that,’ said Professor McGonagall irritably. … ‘About what finally stopped him?’ … ‘What they’re saying,’ she pressed on, ‘is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters.’”

Pandora sucked in a tight breath and glanced up; bright blue eyes blown wide. It was the first time she had broken her rhythm since starting the story and her gaze found Lily’s. Lily felt she knew it was coming even before Pandora read the words.

“’The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they’re – dead.’” Pandora finished quietly.

Lily felt James hand on her shoulder as well as her arm, seeming to be gripping her tightly, like someone was about to snatch one of them away right at that moment. It felt like every eye in the room was on her, but her gaze snapped to meet James’s.

“What the fuck?” Sirius’s voice was so soft, if he wasn’t right next to her, she might not have heard it at all. All the same, she kept her eyes on James.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re okay,” and Lily realized her breath was coming out fast. She sucked in another gasp. “Breath,” he whispered. “We’ll be okay.”

Lily tried to nod back at him, wondering how in the world he could stay so calm.

James’s gaze flicked over to what Lily assumed was Pandora. She just studied his face. His deep brown skin, except for the small scar splicing his eyebrow, courtesy of a cutting curse from Dolohov, nearly unnoticeable behind his glasses. His hair was always disheveled but it and been a particularly long day and Lily knew he slept very little the night before, work weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Her free hand found its way again to her stomach.

“You can keep reading,” James said, voice surprisingly steady.

“James – “ Sirius started again but James’s gaze cut over to him.

“It’s fine, Padfoot. Pandora, keep reading,” he repeated, firmer.

“Lily?” Pandora asked, seeming hesitant. Lily finally looked away from her husband and back to the blond girl at the front of the room. Her long wavy hair was held back by her thin shoulders, wide blue eyes watering. Sitting on the other side of Regulus Black, Severus was staring at Lily and she absolutely refused to look back.

“Yes. Yes, keep reading,” she said.

Pandora nodded, finding her place in the book again. “Dumbledore bowed his head. … He couldn’t kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they’re saying that when he couldn’t kill Harry Potter, Voldemort’s power somehow broke – and that’s why he’s gone.’”

Lily covered her mouth, a horrible noise coming from it.

“What?” Frank asked, glancing over at Lily and back to the front of the room. “That’s – that’s what it says?” he asked. Lily half thought Pandora would snap back at him, but the girl only nodded sadly.

“I don’t understand,” Dorcas said slowly, cutting glances to Lily and James. “I mean, how – “

“The book,” Pandora interrupted. “Sorry, the book discusses this.”

Dorcas looked like she wanted to say more but eventually she nodded.

“Dumbledore nodded glumly. … ‘We may never know.’ … ‘And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re here, of all places?’”

“Great question,” Lily grumbled.

“’I’ve come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They’re the only family he has left now.’”

James sucked in breath. His parents had passed away earlier in the year, and Lily knew he was still devastated by it, but she also knew that wasn’t the reason James’s grip went slack on her arm, his gaze darting to the side where his best friend sat rigid. His brother in everything but blood. Sirius …

“’You don’t mean – you can’t mean the people who live here?’ … ‘Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I’ve got him, sir.”

The look James now shot Sirius was one of complete confusion and Lily glanced over as well. Sirius was staring at the book and Pandora intently, as if they held all the answers in the world. Perhaps they did.

“’No problems, were there?’ … Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. ‘Is that were – ? … ‘He’ll have that scar forever.’”

“The killing curse,” Dorcas said, quietly and everyone’s eyes shot to her. She cleared her throat nervously. “The wand movement,” she explained and suddenly Lily understood. The scar was from the curse being sent at her infant son. Her heart constricted dangerously in her chest.

“’Couldn’t you do something about it, Dumbledore?’ … ‘To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!’” Pandora finished quietly, glancing up from the book as she was done.

The Hog’s Head had fallen near complete silence, even Aberforth, working the bar was cleaning dishes rather slowly. For a moment, everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

“Well, keep reading,” Lily said urgently. She needed to know what happened next. What happened after she and James were … no. She couldn’t think about that. This was about changing the future. That was something they would simply have to change.

“Right,” Pandora said, seeming to collect herself. “Does anyone else want to …” she trailed off but offered up the book to finish her question. Everyone in the room seemed to eye it with suspicion.

“I can,” Regulus said quietly next to her, offering out his hand. Pandora glanced at him, giving him a small smile.

“Alright,” she said fondly, and Lily tried not to feel baffled by the interaction. She didn’t know much about Regulus Black outside of the Mark surely on his forearm. He was not even out of school. He was really just a child. They all were.

“Chapter Two,” he began. “The Vanishing Glass.”

Chapter Text

At that particular moment, Sirius Black would have given anything to be a dog. It was easier, regardless all of James’s jokes about making the change permanent, to mute his emotions in his canine form and he had far too many emotions to deal with just then.

First, his estranged brother had just strolled into an Order meeting as if it were the most casual thing in the world, and everyone was seeming to just accept it – no questions asked. Granted, if questions were going to thrown about, he imagined the man sitting next to his brother might get the majority. He was, of course, the only confirmed Death Eater in the room. But Sirius’s stomach hadn’t stopped churning since Regulus followed Snape into the room, feeling he just got confirmation of his greatest fear.

To be fair, Sirius’s familial crisis paled in comparison to just about everything in this whole Order meeting so far, on account of the books about the future and James and Lily dying. Dying. Dead.

Sirius could barely breathe when it was first read but he glanced over at his best friend’s eyes and he knew in an instant. There was no way they were letting that happen. There was just simply no way.

“Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all."

Regulus’s voice was exactly how Sirius remembered. Posh, a slight French accent, sounding perpetually like he had a stick up his bum. Completely beyond irritating.

Sirius clenched his jaw tight.

“Quite the time jump,” Remus muttered quietly next to him.

“The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens … ‘Up! Get up! Now!’ … ‘Up!’ she screeched."

“Merlin, I have a headache just reading that,” James muttered besides, and Sirius fought a smile.

“Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. … Harry was used to the spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.” Regulus’s voice got soft in the end, distant, and when he glanced up, his eyes found Sirius’s.

“What?” Lily asked, voice deadly calm. “What did you just say?”

Regulus looked rather spooked when he met Lily’s gaze, like he was afraid the witch might blame him for Harry’s situation.

“Maybe keep reading,” Pandora said quietly, the room still digesting what they had just heard. Sirius’s own fingers were clasped around the side of the table. Why the hell was Harry with these people and not … not someone else? Not him?

“When he dressed, he went down the hall to the kitchen. … Harry had always been small and skinny for his age … ‘In the car crash when your parents died,’ she had said. ‘And don’t ask questions.’”

“That – that bitch!” Lily hissed and some of the room looked surprised at her word choice while others clearly thought it too mild.

“He’s neglected,” Sirius’s voice felt flat when he spoke. Why, why, why was Harry there?

Another nudge from Pandora and Regulus kept reading. “Don’t ask questions – that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.”

There was a noise of disgust from somewhere in the room, though Sirius couldn’t pinpoint where.

“Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. … ‘That’s two less than last year.’”

This scoff very clearly came from Snape, which was the first noise he made since entering the room, Sirius was sure. He couldn’t stop the glare he sent the other man’s way – not that Sirius would stop it even if he wanted to. Sirius hoped the other man was very uncomfortable.

“’Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under his big one from Mummy and Daddy.’ … ‘Thirty-nine, sweetgums,’ said Aunt Petunia.”

“Okay this is revolting,” said Frank and Sirius couldn’t help but agree. The only thing mildly entertaining was the look on Regulus’s face as he was forced to read it. But Sirius couldn’t take pleasure in it past his anger. Harry was sleeping under the stairs and this kid …

“’Oh.’ … ‘Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take him.”

“Mrs. Figg?” Caradoc cut in. “Arabella Figg? Jeremiah’s sister?” Jeremiah Figg had been one of the founding members of the Order, back in ’73. He’d been killed sometime while Sirius was still in school.

Regulus took the beat of silence as invitation to continue. “She jerked her head in Harry’s direction. …’I won’t blow up the house,’ Harry said …”

“Ah, Prongs, maybe he’s not your kid after all,” Sirius joked lightly, flashing a small grin. James only rolled his eyes, flipping him two fingers.

“’I suppose we could take him to the zoo,’ said Aunt Petunia slowly … ‘I’m not going to do anything,’ said Harry, ‘honestly …’”

“I’m starting to think there may have been a mix up at St. Mungo’s,” Remus said good naturedly. Marlene snorted from across the room.

“Hey, I’m an innocent angel,” James shot back with a grin. “I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

“But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. … Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him mid-jump.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter at that, and others in the room joined in at what was clearly examples of accidental magic.

“If he really believes that, maybe he’s not even your kid, Evans,” Sirius teased. Lily rolled her eyes at the use of her old surname.

“You’d be surprised what you can explain away,” she replied, voice filled with amusement and nostalgia.

“But today, nothing was going to go wrong.”

Sirius groaned. Of course, the kid would jinx it.

“It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn’t school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg’s cabbage-smelling living room.”

Sirius ground his teeth together at the casual mention of abuse again. If he ever saw Lily’s sister …

“While he drove, … ‘It was flying.’”

Sirius let out a low whistle at the recalled memory. Harry must have been about a year old when that happened. It was quite remarkable he could even recall that much – even if he was convinced it was a dream.

“Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. … they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.” Regulus paused. “They’re lucky they didn’t accidentally create an Obscurial. They’re actively attempting to repress his magic.”

Lily shook her head. “This will never happen,” she said with absolute finality on the subject. No one questioned her, but Dumbledore looked back at the book with curious eyes.

“It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. … The snake nodded vigorously.”

“He’s a Parselmouth,” Frank exclaimed, surprised. He looked over at James. “Is anyone in your family …” But James was shaking his head.

“Not that I know of, and I would know.” He said.

“A Parselmouth?” Lily asked and it was moments like those when Sirius forgot that Lily was Muggleborn.

“He means your son can speak to snakes.” Surprisingly, it was Regulus who answered, voice soft. “The gift can be passed through the familial line. The Parkinson have it, but it’s rare. Nearly all the Gaunts, but they died out in the 50s.”

Of course, Regulus would just know that. Off the top of his head. Sirius fought to roll his eyes.

“It could come from the Peverell line,” mused Caradoc thoughtfully. He looked over at James. Caradoc had been friends for a long time with both of James’s parents. “Or your mother’s. She lost a lot of family history in the fires.”

James only nodded, looking perturbed.

“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” Remus cut in. “Harry is one.” The declaration seemed to spur Regulus back into reading.

“’Where do you come from, anyway?’ … Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished.”

Sirius couldn’t help the laughter that fell from his lips. James glanced back at him smugly.

“Any doubts he’s mine now?” James asked. Sirius just shook his head.

“I’ll give you this one, Prongs,” Sirius chuckled.

“The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly … There were no photographs of them in the house.”

“That’s barbaric,” Alice hissed. Sirius looked over and Lily had one of her hands pressed to her stomach, the other clutching her husband’s hand. James reached over, dragging her closer to him, head resting on his shoulder. Sirius swallowed thickly. This wasn’t going to happen. This would never happen.

“When he was younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away … Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang.” Regulus glanced up. “That’s … that’s the end of this chapter.”

“I can read next,” Dorcas said, getting up from her chair. Regulus reached out and passed the book to her, a look passing between the pair. Dorcas had been in Slytherin, Sirius knew, but he had never known her to be friends with his brother. She was several years above him, and they hardly ran similar circles. But Regulus smiled kindly at her.

“Of course,” he said, and Dorcas went to sit down.

“Chapter Three,” she read. “The Letters From No One.”

“Hogwarts, finally,” Peter said a little dreamily. The other boy had seemed a little quieter than normal tonight, likely as scared as the rest of them that any of this could be real. When he finally spoke, he seemed nervous to meet Sirius’s eyes, so Sirius tried to give him a slight smile.

“On to the good stuff,” Sirius agreed.

Chapter Text

Regulus Black felt like he was an insect, pinned for display.

When Professor McGonagall had fetched him from the Library earlier that evening, he should have known something was wrong immediately. He’d been pouring over books that had nothing to do with his studies for months now, looking for more information, any information, on what he had learned in the final days of summer.

The library had long since been abandoned for dinner and Regulus had resigned himself to the fact that he would have to come up with another excuse to offer to his dormmates about why he had missed yet another meal. He’d been planning to stay until he was sure at least Barty Crouch had fallen asleep, knowing the other boy was the only one able to see through whatever flimsy lie he’d concoct on the way back to the dungeons. Regulus had been avoiding his closest friend for the better part of the semester and to say Barty had caught on would be an understatement.

He’d just been contemplating calling it a night when he spotted McGonagall walking with purpose towards his table, tucked away in the back of the Library. She was hurrying. Professor McGonagall was many things, but late was never one of them. She had explained tersely, that his presence was requested at a meeting off campus with Professor Dumbledore.

Regulus almost refused on principle. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the months of research he had been doing in secret, awake under his covers, or hiding deep in the Restricted Section of the Library, stealing the precious few books the school had on dark magic. Eyes pouring over countless forbidden texts, looking for more information on the word he had incidentally stumbled upon just over three months ago. The word that changed everything.

Horcrux.

So, he was going in the name of research, he had told himself. Purely academic. Purely selfish. But the moment McGonagall led him into the Hog’s Head, and he saw the sheepish face of his old friend Pandora and the desperate eyes of her sister, he knew he made the right choice.

Finally.

So, when Albus Dumbledore had explained the situation to him, strange and outlandish as it may have seemed, he only nodded and agreed that he had to be present. His headmaster’s crystal blue eyes had settled on him for far longer than Regulus was comfortable with, but eventually the old man smiled. As an added bonus, Regulus had gotten to punch Severus. So, really, it was already a successful night.

“The escape of the Brazilian boa constructor,” Dorcas began, “earned Harry his longest-ever punishment.”

Regulus tensed. He fought the instinct to look over again at Sirius, which was perhaps the strangest part of the entire evening. He hadn’t seen his brother since Sirius had graduated Hogwarts, the prior year and it had been even longer since the pair had anything resembling a conversation. The last time Regulus had seen his brother he’d been in the arms of an older dark-skinned woman he presumed to have been Euphemia Potter, embracing Sirius like he was her own son, graduation diploma already wrinkled and ruined in Sirius’s tight grip. Regulus wasn’t even sure why he’d gone, in retrospect. Of course, the Potters would be there. Sirius was staying at their house, or maybe he’d gotten his own place since Alphard had been blasted off the family tree. Either way, James graduated the same day and Sirius would obviously have his friends with him. It was silly that Regulus had even worried he wouldn’t have anyone there. Thoughtless. Something Regulus usually prided himself on being the opposite.

He’d left before anyone saw him.

In a way, though, the gift of getting to see his brother, one last time, was perhaps worth whatever strangeness this endeavor had brought. He hadn’t thought he would be able to, his plan contingent on disappearing as soon at the Hogwarts Express rolled into King’s Cross Station for the winter holidays. There was no way he could risk going home. There was no way he could risk being Called. Not with what he knew. No matter how strong he thought his Occlumency shields might be.

He had a job to do now. He was the only one who could do it.

“By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started, and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote-control airplane. And, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.”

“Absolute menace,” grumbled Edgar Bones, clearly concerned for Arabella Figg. Regulus understood most of what the story was listing were Muggle items, and bit down his tongue on asking any more questions. He could feel his brother’s eyes on him, like Sirius was reading his mind, and Regulus was determined not to look.

“Harry was glad school was over … Harry Hunting.”

“Okay this is ridiculous,” Lily seethed. She seemed to be taking her sister’s treatment of her son extremely personally. Which, Regulus supposed, he couldn’t blame her for. James rubbed circled on her arm, trying to calm her down.

“This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house … ‘Your school uniform,’ she said. … ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.”

There were several good-natured chuckles around the room, and Sirius’s barking laugh. James himself only smiled and shook his head.

“’Don’t be stupid,’ … ‘Get the mail Harry’ … Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was vacationing in the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and – a letter for Harry.”

“His Hogwarts letter,” Lily said fondly, and Regulus thought he was the only one to see her eyes flicker over to Severus, however briefly.

Regulus’s eyes followed hers to the other man, who had remained determinedly silent for most of the reading. He fought the urge for his eyes to flicker down to Severus’s left arm, hidden by a thick woolen cloak that was far too warm for the cozy inside of the Hog’s Head. Neither McGonagall nor Dumbledore had asked Regulus to lift his own sleeve, though the charm he’d placed on his own arm was likely to wear off at some point that night.

“Harry picked it up and stared at it … Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

Lily let out a scoff. “They clearly know where he is,” she said.

Sirius shook his head. “Those things are scary accurate. I remember getting mine for sixth year, addressed to S. Black, adjacent to Mr. Potter,” he said, and Regulus tried to stamp down the flair of pain in his chest at that. He clenched his jaw and studied the table.

“I’m afraid they are sent by the Ministry,” Dumbledore said with a frown at the book. Regulus couldn’t get a read on what his Headmaster was thinking.

“The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. … ‘Dad, Harry’s got something!’”

“Oh great,” his brother muttered darkly under his breath.

“Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.”

“Damn,” muttered Frank Longbottom in the back. Clearly most of the room had been drawn into the story, invested in Harry’s predicament.

“’That’s mine!’ said Harry … ‘Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!’”

“What’s their problem?” asked Pettigrew, a little indignantly.

“They just,” Lily sighed, struggling for words. “They hate magic.”

Next to him, Regulus heard Severus snort softly. He must not have been the only one, because Lily’s fiery gaze shot to the front of the room.

Regulus had never quite understood their friendship, though with Pandora pressed into his side, he supposed he had little room to judge. There was always point, when lines had to be drawn, and Regulus knew how difficult it was to try to balance so precariously on that line. The harder you tried to stay balanced, the harder the fall, to one side or the other.

“They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. … ‘I WANT MY LETTER!’ he shouted.”

Regulus drew in a sharp breath.

“’Let me see it!’ … ‘Watching – Spying – might be following us.’”

“I hope so,” James said under his breath.

“’But what should we do, Vernon’ … ‘Er – yes, Harry – about this cupboard. … We think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom.’”

“Second bedroom?” Alice Longbottom asked indignantly.

“They’re only doing it because they’re scared,” muttered Lily, glaring at the book in her friend’s hand. No one seemed to have an answer for that.

“’Why?’ Harry asked.”

“Oh Harry,” Lily said mournfully, and James pulled her into his side. Regulus couldn’t imagine what the pair must be feeling. He’d never been particularly … good, with children. Maybe it was simply a byproduct of him being the youngest or, far more likely, the house he grew up in. But to hear about your child’s future, to hear that you weren’t in it … Regulus wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“’Don’t ask questions!’ … When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it.”

“Oh no,” someone muttered, though Regulus couldn’t tell who.

“They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, ‘There’s another one! ‘Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive – ‘”

Regulus snorted, surprising himself. “Some Ministry employee is enjoying their job,” he said by way of explanation and earned a few scattered laughs around the room.

“With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. … He had a plan.”

“Oh, this ought to be good,” Lupin said sarcastically. James turned, raising a questioning eyebrow at his friend.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked. Lupin rolled his eyes.

“James, he’s your son,” he said by way of explanation. James let out an indignant noise. “It’s going to be a terrible plan.”

Before James could protest, Dorcas continued reading.

“The repaired alarm clock rang at six o’clock the next morning. … Harry leapt into the air; he’d trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat – something alive!”

“Yeah okay,” James said before Lupin could get in a word of edgewise, already quietly laughing. “Point made.”

“Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big squashy something had been his uncle’s face. … ‘I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.’”

“It won’t,” huffed a brown-haired Ravenclaw boy whose name Regulus didn’t know.

“’Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re not like you and me,’ said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with a piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.”

Regulus bit his tongue, glaring at the book Dorcas held. He knew his brother was watching him, as if waiting to see how he would react, so he held perfectly still, not giving anything away.

“On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. … ‘Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?’ Dudley asked Harry in amazement.”

“This is ridiculous, they should just send a professor, like they do for muggleborn,” a girl Regulus recognized as Marlene McKinnon growled from the bar.

“He’s not muggleborn,” and older man nearby pointed out calmly. McKinnon rolled her eyes.

“I know that, but clearly something isn’t registering,” she complained.

“They’ll send someone if he doesn’t reply,” another man cut in quickly, putting an end to the exchange.

“On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.”

“That doesn’t bode well,” Sirius muttered.

“No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, ‘no damn letters today – ‘ … Mr. H. Potter, Room 17, Railview Hotel, Cokeworth.”

“Okay this is getting ridiculous,” someone said in the back of the room. Regulus agreed. Why was this Muggle trying so hard to keep Harry out of school? Didn’t he know how dangerous that could be?

“Harry made a grab for the letter, but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. … The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.”

“Finally!” McKinnon exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. Dorcas chuckled next to her, the pair sitting close, kneed grazing. Regulus’s eyes flickered up to Dorcas’s face, broken into a soft grin.

“Who wants to read next?” Dorcas asked and Marlene plucked the book from the other woman’s hands.

“I would be honored. I’m hoping it’s you, Minnie,” Marlene said cheekily. Regulus raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Professor McGonagall, completely unsure of how she would take the nickname. McGonagall didn’t smile, only shaking her head good-naturedly.

“Just read, Ms. McKinnon,” she replied, her tone full of fondness. Marlene gave her another bright smile, cracking open the book.

“Chapter Four. The Keeper of the Keys.”

Chapter Text

“Hagrid, do you reckon?” Edgar Bones asked thoughtfully to no one in particular. Marlene only shrugged, glancing down at the book in her hands.

It was thinner than she expected, with neat, type-like writing covering the back of the left page. The right was empty but for the chapter title, and a small drawn picture of what was recognizably the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. There were a few sentences written beneath, but nothing more.

Marlene smoothed out the page in front of her before curiously turning it to the next one. Blank. Interesting. “BOOM. They knocked again,” she started and as she read, more words seemed to appear, in the same plain type face, as if the book was enchanted, ensuring that they wouldn’t skip ahead. Quite the spell. “Dudley jerked awake. … A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. … ‘Budge up, yeh great lump,’ said the stranger.”

Dumbledore smiled at the description and Hagrid’s demeanor. The old headmaster had always had a soft spot for the half-giant. Marlene could relate, frankly.

“Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. … ‘Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.’”

Marlene heard a sharp intake of breath from both Lily and James and when she glanced up, that pair were sharing a look of wonder. She couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face and they thought of her friends’ child. A child they would never see, she thought bitterly.

No. That wasn’t happening. She shook off the thought and forced herself to keep reading.

“Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. … ‘a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.”

Someone snickered in the front of the room.

“From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled slightly squashed box. … ‘Who are you?’ … ‘Er – no,’ said Harry.”

“He probably doesn’t know anything,” James said sadly, and Marlene’s heart tugged at the sound. James didn’t deserve this. Frankly, no one did.

“He’ll be alright,” Lily sounded far more confident. “Lots of people go in knowing nothing, you know,” she said, and a smile grew on James’s face.

“Very true. And then they turn around and make top marks in their class,” he said, eyes glowing.

Remus chuckled. “Well, hold on with ‘top of his class’ there Prongs. He’s your son, too, after all.”

“Hagrid looked shocked. … ‘I know some things,’ he said. ‘I can, you know, do math and stuff.’”

Lily snorted out a laugh and a few people joined her.

“But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, ‘About our world, I mean.’ … ‘I mean, they’re famous. You’re famous.’” Marlene felt uneasy as she read. Famous for being killed. Famous for having a mother and father killed. This poor kid.

“’What?’ … ‘Harry – yer a wizard.’”

Lily shook her head. “Oh, this is going well,” she said, amused.

“There was a silence in the hut. … ‘A Muggle,’ said Hagrid, ‘it’s what we call nonmagic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.’” Marlene could feel Dorcas frowning next to her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, a little defensively. Dorcas was muggleborn. And a Slytherin. A combination that would have been volatile at the best of times. And these certainly weren’t those. Needless to say, her Hogwarts experience was a little rough and Hagrid’s wording was indelicate at best.

Lily was frowning too. “I’m no fan of Petunia, but I don’t like how he worded that,” she agreed. Marlene hurried to continue with the story.

“’We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,’ said Uncle Vernon, ‘swore we’d stamp it out of him!’ … ‘Knew!’ Shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. … How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? … she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!’” Marlene trailed off at the end of Lily’s sister’s tirade, eyes darting up to meet her friend. Lily’s face was pale, and she was leaning into James who was whispering in her ear. Lily nodded dully and he glanced up, catching Marlene watching. He nodded his head to the book.

Marlene took a shaky breath and found her spot on the page, her vision blurred with anger. If she ever met Lily’s sister in a dark alley …

“Harry had gone very white. … ‘But why? What happened?’ Harry asked urgently.”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Moody muttered darkly.

“The anger faded from Hagrid’s face. … ‘All right – Voldemort.’” A quiet seemed to come over the bar at his name. “Hagrid shuddered. … ‘Anyway, this – this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. … Maybe he thought he could persuade ‘em … maybe he just wanted ‘em outta the way. ... You’Know-Who killed ‘em. … That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh – took care of yeh mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even – but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, Harry.” Marlene’s voice cut off abruptly, reading ahead.

“That’s all we know?” Moody asked, clearly thinking. He didn’t seem to notice the pallor of Marlene’s face. She could hardly hear him. Her head felt light.

“Marls?” Dorcas asked, voice distant. “Marls, you okay.” Marlene jumped at the touch on her shoulder and her eyes flickered up, meeting Dorcas’s concerned gaze. She knew her breathing was coming out a little short and choppy and she tried for a deep breath. Marlene swallowed. She felt like she knew this was coming, but still the wind was knocked out of her.

Marlene forced herself to nod.

Her throat was dry when she continued ready, voice subdued. “’No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age – the Mc – “ Marlene forced a breath. “McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts – an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.’”

Marlene’s heart pounded in her ears and when her eyes flickered up, full intention of meeting Dorcas’s gaze, she instead found Edgar, staring right back at her, eyes wide. Edgar, with a wife and two children. Seven and four. Edgar with two siblings that this could just as easily refer to. His brown eyes were blown wide and he was sitting rigid and still in his seat. She looked over at Fabian and Gideon, sitting close with Emmeline, teasing her not an hour ago. Twin expressions unreadable. The room was thick with silence.

"We aren’t dead yet,” Fabian said, voice strangely light. “This is about changing the future right?” His eyes found his brother’s. Gideon nodded slowly.

“So, let’s change it,” he said.

Marlene finally glanced over at Dorcas, unsure of what she would see. Her girlfriend’s eyes were dark, and she was … oh. She was angry. Marlene couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” she said, and her words seemed to shake Dorcas from her thoughts.

“I’m – I – what?” she spluttered, and Marlene laughed. She leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the cheek.

“I said what I said,” she replied and looked down again at the book, taking a breath.

“Something painful was going on in Harry’s mind. … ‘But what happened to Vol – sorry – I mean, You-Know-Who?’”

“Excellent question,” Moody muttered, and Marlene tried not to roll her eyes.

“’Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. … Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die.’” At this there was a sharp intake of breath from the front of the room and Marlene flickered her eyes up to see Regulus Black’s pale face, staring at the book intently. She furrowed her eyebrow, rereading the last words, unsure exactly what was so strange about them. “’Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’t believe it.’ … ‘Hagrid,’ he said quietly, ‘I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.’”

“Oh, Harry,” Lily whispered.

“To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled. … ‘Harry Potter, not a wizard – you wait, you’ll be right famous at Hogwarts.’”

“Oh great,” muttered Snape from the front of the room and Marlene turned to glare at him.

“Shut up, Snivellus,” Sirius snapped before Marlene could say anything and Snape’s eyes darkened. They had all been relatively civil regarding Snape until this point, especially considering the history many of them had with him in school, but Marlene was not about to let the git get away with talking. He would sit there silently and play good little Death Eater, or she could hex him. Those were his options. Snape opened his mouth and rose slightly from his seat, but Dumbledore held up a hand.

“That’s quite enough,” he said quietly, eyes stern. Both men sat back in their chairs, looking thoroughly admonished.

“But Uncle Vernon wasn’t going to give in without a fight. … ‘NEVER – ‘ he thundered, ‘INSULT – ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!’”

“Oh dear,” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

“He brought the umbrella down through the air to point at Dudley … Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.”

There were some laughs around the room but for the most part, people looked exasperated that Hagrid had used magic.

“He isn’t supposed to do that,” Professor McGonagall said sternly, disapproval evident in her tone. Dumbledore shot her an amused look and she only rolled her eyes.

“Uncle Vernon roared. … ‘You can kip under that,’ he said. ‘Don’ mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o’ dormice in one o’ the pockets.’” Marlene finished. “Any volunteers?"

Edgar Bones held out a hand. “I can,” he offered quietly. Marlene met his eyes, trying not to think about what she had just read. It was hard, not to think of the words as an indictment, a death sentence, a growing chill at the base of her spine. He looked at her sadly, like maybe he could read her thoughts, her mind, spinning so quickly even she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Or maybe it was just that he was thinking the same thing. Or not thinking at all.

Marlene passed him the book, feeling exhausted. She felt Dorcas slid close to her, their arms brushing, and she fell into the touch. This was going to be a long night.

“Chapter Five,” Edgar read. “Diagon Alley.”

Chapter Text

Gideon Prewett tried to focus on Edgar’s words as he started reading, shaking off the shock of last chapter. It was surreal, mostly, sitting in the dank atmosphere of the Hog’s Head, surrounded by friends, reading what he could almost convince himself was an innoculous children’s book.

Technically, the book hadn’t said any names, had been vague about exactly which parts of both the Bones and Prewetts large extended families it might have referred to. But Gideon was smart enough to put the pieces together. Merlin, his Gryffindor brother was smart enough to put the pieces together. The Prewetts were a largely neutral family with two exceptions: him and Fabian.

“Harry woke early the next morning … ‘I haven’t got any money – ‘”

James snorted to the left of him and he heard Lily smack the back of his head. Rowena bless Lily Potter.

“ ‘– and you heard Uncle Vernon last night … ‘Hagrid,’ said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, ‘did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?’”

“Oh, I smell trouble,” Fabian said next to him gleefully. Gideon smiled over at him. Fabian’s freckles pinched close to his nose, the slightly different speckling sometimes the only way some could tell them apart. But Fabian stood slightly shorter than Gideon, he preferred his bright red hair to be styled off to the side, and his grin filled out his face, brightening all of his features.

“Well, so they say,’ said Hagrid. ‘Crikey, I’d like a dragon.’”

“What on earth would one do with a dragon?” Asked Emmeline next to him. The younger Ravenclaw had her dark hair pushed behind her ears as she frowned at the book. Gideon grinned at her.

“What couldn’t one do with a dragon?” he asked. Sometimes, Gideon thought he spent too much time around Gryffindors.

Emmeline glared fondly. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should,” she said in a remarkable impression of Professor Flitwick. Gideon grinned back.

”Yes, but it does mean that I would,” he recited back and the younger girl’s eyes shown.

“’You’d like one?’ … ‘Good Lord,’ said the bartender, peering at Harry, ‘is this – can this be - ?’ … ‘Harry Potter … what an honor.’”

“This is not what he needs,” muttered Lily quietly and Gideon couldn’t help but agree. This was likely only a reminder to the kid that his parents were gone. Forever.

“He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. … ‘Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.’”

Gideon frowned. “Where is Dedalus?” he asked. Usually the man made it to most meetings, but the portly Hufflepuff was nowhere to be seen.

“Out of the country,” came Moody’s gruff reply and Gideon’s eyes flickered over, waiting for more. Nothing came. Recently, people had been wary of giving out details in the Order. When Gideon had first joined, the group had been far smaller, information exchanged almost lazily, carelessly. But in the past couple of weeks, two consecutive missions had gone horribly wrong, ambushes waiting to happen. Emmeline had spent days in St. Mungo’s recovering from a particularly nasty curse that still had her looking pale.

Once was unfortunate. Twice was a coincidence. But it seemed like people were already waiting around for the third shoe to drop.

People were starting to get wary of giving out details. No one really wanted to face it, but the truth was getting inescapable. They had a spy. Somehow, information was leaking, and while some held onto the hope that it was unintentional, others were not as optimistic. Whispers had been circling the group for weeks now, fewer Order members coming regularly to meetings. In fact, had Dumbledore not summoned so many of them, Gideon feared that the Hog’s Head would have deplorably vacant. Fractures had begun to form in what had always been implicit trust.

In response, Gideon only nodded back.

“’I’ve seen you before!’ … ‘P-P-Potter,’ stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry’s hand, ‘c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.’ … ’What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?’ ‘Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,’”

Sirius snorted. “I see the quality of Defense professors hasn’t improved over the years.”

Gideon frowned. “I knew of Quirinus, at least while he was at Hogwarts. He was four or so years ahead of me, but he didn’t have a stutter then.” Gideon couldn’t remember much else about the quiet, mostly unassuming Ravenclaw.

“’N-Not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?’ … ‘You have his key, sir?’ ‘Got it here somewhere,’ said Hagrid. … ‘What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?’ … Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.”

“Well, at least we know what it is,” Regulus Black said thoughtfully from the front of the room. Gideon was more than a little surprised at how engaged the younger Black seemed to be in the story. He had never met Regulus, but from the way Sirius spoke about his family, he certainly hadn’t expected the young boy in front of him.

Gideon nodded in agreement, but Sirius sat up straight.

“Wait, what do you mean? How do we know?” Regulus shot Sirius a look Gideon immediately knew was unique only to brothers. That, you’re-an-absolute-idiot-and-you-make-me-look-bad-by-being-related look. Gideon knew it well.

“It’s a Philosopher’s Stone,” Regulus said, gesturing to the cover of the book. Edgar flipped it over peering at the title.

“Huh,” was all Sirius replied.

“'Come on, back in this infernal cart’ … In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. … ‘My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands,’ said the boy. … ‘I think I’ll bully Father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.’”

“Lovely,” muttered Sirius. Lily gave him a look of disapproval.

“He’s eleven at best, Sirius,” she said but she sounded more tired than defensive. Sirius shrugged.

“You can be a prick at eleven,” he replied. Lily rolled her eyes.

“You’d know.”

“Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley. … ‘No,’ Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.”

James let out a dramatic gasp, startling nearly everyone in the room, clutching his chest. “This is a nightmare,” he moaned. “My own child.”

Lily laughed, despite the underlying implications and McGonagall watched the dramatic display fondly.

“I do – Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree.’ … ‘Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’”

Sirius pretended to wretch into his hand before glancing at the front of the room, something strange in his expression.

“Sounds familiar,” he said, challenge in his voice. Regulus looked shocked at being addressed before the implication set in.

“I was not like that.”

Sirius snorted. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

Regulus seemed to consider his words before recognition flickered across his face. “You think he’s Lucius’s child?” Regulus asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“Narcissa’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Sirius asked.

Regulus shot him a look. “How do you know that?”

Sirius shrugged, predatory grin on his face. “I have my sources.”

“’Mmm,’ said Harry. … ‘But they were our kind, weren’t they?’ … ‘I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you?’ … ‘Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,’ said the drawling boy.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone listened to the words. Sometimes, in crowds like the one Gideon ran in, well, they become something of an echo chamber. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone speak about blood supremacy so casually.

“Yeah, he’s a Malfoy alright,” Sirius said bitterly.

“He’s still just eleven,” Regulus replied quietly, echoing Lily’s words from before. Sirius shot him a disgusted look.

“That doesn’t make what he said okay.” Sirius snapped. Gideon got the feeling this was an old argument.

“No, it doesn’t,” Regulus replied, and Sirius blinked in shock. “He’s just parroting what his parents have told him, though, Sirius. You used to do that once too.”

Sirius stared at his brother for a long time, expression unreadable. Gideon glanced over at Fabian next to him, watching the pair. Gideon couldn’t imagine being angry at Fabian, not over something that meant anything. Three sets of brothers in the room and Gideon wouldn’t trade his for the world.

“Harry was rather quiet as he after the ice cream Hagrid had bought him. … ‘Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,’ said Hagrid darkly. ‘There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.’”

Gideon glanced over at Regulus back, expression unreadable on his face as he stared at the book. Snape was a little more open at his annoyance, lip curled at the words.

“Not exactly something Hagrid should be telling a child about to be sorted,” Dorcas said, her own voice surprisingly bitter. Gideon knew she had a difficult relationship with her house, being a muggleborn.

“’Vol – sorry – You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?’ ‘Years an’ years ago,’ said Hagrid.”

Gideon looked over at Dumbledore, confused. He hadn’t known that. He didn’t give much thought to kid-Voldemort.

“They bought Harry’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather … ‘Just yer want left – oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.’”

“Hagrid’s an angel,” Lily said softly, eyes welling with tears.

“Harry felt himself go red. … ‘You have your mother’s eyes. … Ten and quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.’”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “He – he remembers?”

James laughed. “Don’t be too flattered. He remembers everyone’s.”

“Even knew my father’s,” Sirius said. “And his was Gregorovich made.”

“Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. … ‘I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,’ he said softly. ‘Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful … ‘It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why its brother gave you that scar.’”

Silence permeated the room as Ollivander’s words sunk in.

“What – what does that mean?” Lily asked, voice strangled.

“Brother wands, well it shouldn’t mean anything, should it?” James asked, looking over, maybe on instinct, to Caradoc.

The older man looked thoughtful. “Not normally,” he hedged.

“What about abnormally?” Sirius replied, voice tight. Caradoc glanced over at Elphias, who was in the corner, unusually quiet.

Elphias sat for a long enough moment, Gideon wondered if he was going to reply.

“It’s possible it might be an issue,” Elphias finally mused. “If there is some connection between Voldemort and the boy.”

Gideon’s gut sank.

“What type of connection?” James asked, voice strained, but Elphias didn’t seem to have an answer.

Eventually, Edgar took his cue and began to read again. “Harry swallowed. … ‘After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great.’”

“That is horrifying,” Emmeline said next to him.

“Harry shivered. … but he blinked and Hagrid was gone.” Edgar looked up from the reading. “Next?” he asked.

“How much more are we going to read tonight?” Frank asked from the back, glancing at Alice.

“If anyone needs to leave, they can, at any time,” Dumbledore said patiently, though from Snape’s grumble, Gideon had the suspicion the offer was not extended to him. “We can read most of this book tonight, and, if most are free, I would like to suggest we continue tomorrow.”

Sybil sat forward. She had fallen suspiciously quiet through the ordeal, despite her part in initiating it. “It’s best we read the books as quickly as we can. Obviously, we need breaks but,” she took a breath, eyes glowing bright. “We best not let the lion lie in wait.”

Gideon sat forward. Sybil’s voice had become a rasp as she choked out the last part. The woman’s eyes sank close and she took a deep choking breath before snapping them open. She frowned at all the gazes on her. Sybil glanced over at her sister.

“I did it again, didn’t I?” she asked seeming devastated. Pandora nodded, sighing a little.

“It wasn’t – it wasn’t anything …” Sybil trailed off and Pandora immediately shook her head.

“No, we’re fine.”

Gideon narrowed his eyes at the exchange. Lying in wait? What had Sybil meant? And her voice …

“I’ll read,” Moody cut in abruptly, snatching the book from Edgar. He flipped it open. “Chapter Six. The Journey From Platform Nine and Three Quarters.”

“Oh, I do hope someone told him about the wall,” Lily frets immediately. Gideon stifled a laugh.

“I am sure that absolutely no one thought about it,” he replied cheerfully.

“Harry’s last month with the Dursleys wasn’t fun. … His school books were very interesting.”

“Oh, thank Merlin he takes after Lily,” Remus sighed. James shot him a look of betrayal.

“He lay in his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. … ‘Platform what?’”

“Shouldn’t Petunia know?” Marlene asked, glancing at Lily. Lily’s cheeks grew pink.

“She never, er, she never went to see me off,” Lily admitted quietly. Gideon took a deep breath and reminded himself that none of this was going to happen.

“’Nine and three-quarters.’ … ‘Have a good term,’ said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word.”

Lily let out an indignant shout. “Absolute horrible toad of a man,” she snarled.

“Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. … The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair.”

Fabian shot Gideon a look.

“Sounds like Molly, does it not?”

“Four boys?” Gideon asked. “What do you reckon? I suppose Bill and Charlie would have graduated. Percy would attend in ’91. The twins.” Suddenly Gideon let out a laugh.

“Oh, poor Molly. She was convinced this one was going to be a girl!”

Fabian joined in shaking his head. When would their sister learn?

“Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry’s in front of him – and they had an owl. … ‘Nine and three-quarters!’ piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand. ‘Mum, can’t I go …’ ‘You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.’”

“Sweet Merlin,” Fabian whispered, aghast.

“She’s got one!” Gideon smiled.

“What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. … ‘Only joking I am Fred.’”

There were some laughs at the twins’ antics and Gideon couldn’t stop the smile on his face. He glanced at Fabian fondly and he could see his brother’s eyes swimming in nostalgia.

“His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so because a second later, he had gone – but how had he done it? … ‘First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new too.’ … ‘Go on, go before Ron.’”

Lily turned to Gideon and Fabian, grateful expression on her face. “Your sister is a saint,” she said emphatically, and Gideon gave her a smile.

“’Er – okay,’ said Harry. … ‘Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.’ ‘Oh, Neville,’ he heard the old woman sigh. … ‘Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet.’ ‘Great idea though, thank, Mum.’”

Gideon laughed and he could hear a few other joining in. They sure were going to give Molly some grey hairs.

“’It’s not funny. … ‘We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat.’ ‘George!’ ‘Only joking, Mum.’”

Sirius barked out a laugh, shaking his own head. The dialog had seemed to lighten the mood of the Hog’s Head immensely.

“The train began to move. … ‘Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.’”

Gideon felt a little sick at the thought of Harry remembering that much. The green light was the killing curse. It must have been aimed at him, but why hadn’t it worked? Did Voldemort simply not mean it enough? How was that even possible? There were so many questions, and the books was insistent on providing so few answers.

“’Wow,’ said Ron. … ‘Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot but they still get really good marks, and everyone thinks they’re really funny.’”

Gideon knew that Ron was complaining, clearly feeling like he had a lot to live up to, but he felt entranced learning about his nephews’ lives. He was sure Ron would do well in school and carve out a space for himself. After all, that was what Hogwarts was for.

“’Everyone expects me to do as well as the others … ‘You won’t be. There’s loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough.’”

Gideon felt a surge of pride for his nephew as he reassured Harry.

“While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. … Underneath the picture is the name Albus Dumbledore.”

“Ah, one of the common ones,” Peter complained, sharing a look with Remus. Dumbledore sent the boy an amused look.

“Sorry to disappoint,” their headmaster said. Peter’s ears went pink.

“No – I – uh – I didn’t – “ Peter stammered but Dumbledore only chuckled.

“’So this is Dumbledore!’ said Harry. … ‘Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.’ … ‘Turn this stupid fat rat yellow.’”

Gideon chuckled. Clearly the twins had not given Ron a real spell.

“He waved his wand, but nothing happened. … ‘I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?’ … ‘I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.’”

Gideon sat back, taking that in. He knew, in a distant sort of way, that the war would eventually make its way into a history book, that someone might even write something one day about the Order, but he had never imagined names, a child no less, having their name in a book in a world he had never known.

“’Am I?’ … ‘What House are your brothers in?’ asked Harry. ‘Gryffindor,’ said Ron.”

“Ha,” Fabian leaned in, gloating. Gideon shoved him back.

“Arthur’s a lion,” Gideon said glumly. “I had no chance.”

“Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. … ‘Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa doing something for Gringotts,’ Ron said. ‘Did you hear about Gringotts? It’s been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don’t suppose you get that with the Muggles – someone tried to rob a high security vault.’”

Gideon was caught up in trying to imagine his tiny nephews having real jobs that the words almost didn’t even register. When they finally did, his head snapped to Moody who was frowning at the book. Before anyone could get in a word of edgewise, however, Moody continued.

“Harry stared. … ‘’Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.’”

That had been Gideon’s first thought before reminding himself that in the book, Voldemort had been gone for ten years. But still, it had to be him, why else would they be reading these books, supposedly about his downfall?

“Harry turned this news over in his mind. …It was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s … ‘Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle’ … ‘And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.’”

All three, Gideon noted, were the sons of known or suspected Death Eaters. An uneasy feeling was growing in his stomach. Gideon wasn’t sure he liked to think about Death Eaters as having children, or families. Whenever he thought of them, he thought of faceless masks in a battlefield. This … he didn’t like it.

Sirius snorted. “Draco? Narcissa obviously picked that.”

“Ron gave a silent cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. … ‘I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,’ he said coolly.”

James let out loud whoop, sharing a glance with Sirius who grinned back at him.

“Draco Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. … ‘I’ve heard of his family,’ said Ron darkly. ‘They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. … He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark side.’” Moody paused in his reading. “Blamed the Imperius curse,” he muttered darkly.

Gideon sighed at that. It was a common excuse, even now, and he could only imagine it getting worse if the war ever did end. It was one of the hardest things about his job. When he'd joined the Auror's Office out of school, he'd been prepared for the fights, the danger, the life and death moments. But in his mind, the divide between who was good and who was bad was always clear, a straight line. You either fell on one side of it or the other.

He wasn't ready for the dance that some played around the line, swinging back and forth across it. Wasn't prepared for how some might be forced under curses, under threat, under duress. While others only pretended to be. Gideon longed for the days he had been sure of his actions. Sure he was doing the right thing.

“He turned to Hermoine. … The train slowed right down and finally stopped. … Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.”

Moody passed the book, without asking, to Caradoc, who at least took it without protest.

“We’re going to be here all night, aren’t we?” Marlene asked, turning to Aberforth. “Is the bar at least open?”

“Butterbeer only,” was the gruff reply and Marlene smiled broadly. It took a few moments for everyone who wanted one to grab a pint. Lily and James both drank water, and so did Alice and Frank, curiously enough. But nearly everyone else, save Snape, Dumbledore, and Regulus Black, who Gideon briefly wondered if he was even old enough, grabbed a glass.

“Chapter seven,” Caradoc started. “The Sorting Hat.”

Chapter Text

Frank’s hand had since shifted to his water, tapping his fingers along the side of the glass absentmindedly, but Alice could still feel his gaze, as steady and constant as his hand in hers had just been. Out of the two of them, she always thought it would have been her who was like this: worried, stressed, a mess basically. It was kind of … well, she would just say it. It was cute that it was Frank.

“I’m fine, hun,” she said quietly, when she felt Frank’s frown at her nearly full glass. Rolling her eyes, Alice took another sip very deliberately. “We both are,” she said, her voice softening. Frank shot her an apologetic look, opening his mouth to reply, but Caradoc’s voice cut him off.

“The door swung open at once. … ‘At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. … ‘How exactly do they sort us into Houses?’ he asked Ron. ‘Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.’”

James chortled a laugh and next to him, Peter glared.

“I can’t believe you told me we had to battle a sphinx,” Peter complained, comically pathetic. “I was studying riddles for weeks!”

“I can’t believe you fell for it,” James replied, and Sirius burst into a laugh.

“Find that funny, do you?” Peter challenged with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I do,” Sirius replied smugly.

“Harry’s heart gave a horrible jolt. … For I am a Thinking Cap! … ‘Abbott, Hannah!’ … ‘HUFFLEPUFF’”

Alice leaned forward during the Sorting. Surely, their child would be in Harry’s year.

“Shouted the Hat. … ‘Bones, Susan!’” Caradoc read out and next to him, Edgar gave a little jump. He smiled.

“Ought to be Ernest’s first,” he said faintly. Ernest was Edgar’s youngest brother, in Alice’s year at Hogwarts. He had been a prefect with her and gotten married to a Fawley not long after Frank and herself. “I wondered if she would be in this lot,” he murmured.

“How’s his wife doing?” Alice asked kindly, leaning forward. She tried to recall the woman’s face, but Alice hadn’t seen the couple since graduation. With Amelia campaigning in Wizengott and Edgar in the Order, Alice knew that Ernest and his family had decided to lie low. Edgar gave her a smile.

“About ready to pop,” he said. “The Healers have given her a few weeks.”

“’HUFFLEPUFF!’” Caradoc reads out and Edgar rolled his eyes. He was a Ravenclaw himself, but Amelia and Ernest were both in Hufflepuff. He laughed softly.

“’Boot, Terry!’ ‘RAVENCLAW!’ … ‘Brocklehurst, Mandy’ went to Ravenclaw too, but ‘Brown, Lavender’ became the first new Gryffindor – ‘”

There were a few triumphant shouts from the table in the middle and Frank joined in next to Alice.

“ – and the table on the left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling. ‘Bulstrode, Millicent’ then became a Slytherin – “

This time, boos erupted once again from most of the Gryffindors in the room.

“For Merlin’s sake, are we eleven?” Dorcas complained, shaking her head to hide a smile. Marlene grinned at her.

“Perhaps it was Harry’s imagination, after all he’d heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.”

“Look,” Dorcas said, gesturing at the book. “Look what you lot have gone and done.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but Alice thought he may have flashed a look at his brother near the front. Both he and Snape were unsurprisingly quiet through the whole affair.

“He was starting to feel definitely sick now. … ‘Finch-Fletchley, Justin!’ ‘HUFFLEPUFF’ … ‘Finnegan, Seamus,’ the sandy haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor. ‘Granger, Hermoine!’”

“I reckon she’s a Gryffindor too,” Frank said next to her. Alice glanced at him in surprise.

“Not a Ravenclaw? She practically read the Hogwarts Library before coming.”

Frank only shrugged.

“Hermoine almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. ‘GRYFFINDOR’ shouted the hat.”

Beside her, Frank grinned, bumping her shoulder in excitement. Surely, ‘L’ would come soon. Alice began to run her own fingers down the side of her glass nervously.

“Ron groaned. … When Neville Longbottom – “ Caradoc stopped suddenly glancing up, eyebrows raised.

“Erm, surprise?” Alice said.

Lily leapt from her seat. “Alicia Elizabeth Fortescue Longbottom!” she shouted. Alice laughed.

“Not even close.”

Lily crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. “I didn’t know!” she said.

“We weren’t telling anyone. Well, until, until now I guess,” Alice tried to explain. Lily laughed against her.

“Yes, I know the feeling,” she said. Eventually the pair settled back down, congratulations shouted about. Alice and Frank had been trying for nearly a year and now here it was. Neville. She’d thought earlier on the train but …

She glanced at Frank worriedly.

“He was with an older lady on the Platform.”

“It’s only ever been you Als,” Frank joked, and Alice tried to smile, but she saw her own concern reflected in his eyes. There wasn’t anything that could make her miss sending her first child to Hogwarts. Perhaps they were simply running behind. Harry had only seen them for a moment…

“ – Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool.”

Alice sucked in a breath. She could nearly feel her child’s nerves. Surely, he’d know, anywhere he was sorted …

“The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ – “

More cheers, even louder this time, and Frank beamed at her. Alice shot him a relieved smile, feeling light in the head. It didn’t matter to her, she knew it didn’t matter to Frank, but when she’d been eleven, hearing her name called by Professor McGonagall, her nerves had been shot. And back then, it had mattered to her very much.

“Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to ‘MacDougal, Morag.’”

Alice saw both Snape and Regulus tense at the name.

“Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, ‘SLYTHERIN!’”

“Typical,” Sirius muttered, and Alice glanced at him curiously. She knew it hadn’t been easy for him when he was first sorted, but him and James especially nearly bled Gryffindor now. She wondered if there was more to the story than she originally thought.

“Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. … ‘Potter, Harry!’”

“Anyone got a wager?” Marlene asked, eyes dancing as she leaned forward.

“If that boy’s not in Gryffindor, I’ll eat the bloody hat,” Dorcas said, bumping her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Don’t jinx him,” James hissed.

“Jinx him? This hasn’t even happened yet!” Marlene complained.

“Technically, it already hasn’t happened,” chimed in Pandora, entirely unhelpful.

“And Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. … ‘Not Slytherin, eh? ... ‘Are you sure? You could be great you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that – no? Well, it you’re sure – better be GRYFFINDOR!’”

“Yes!” Sirius shouted, throwing his head back. Marlene actually put two fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Alice glanced at Lily, expecting to see equal elation on her face, and while there was certainly relief, a strange expression crossed her face and she shot a glance toward the front of the room before quickly looking away. Alice followed her eyes. Severus Snape clenched his jaw, looking unreasonably angry at the book in Caradoc’s hands.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough out of all of you,” Gideon said, rolling his eyes and shoving his brother, Fabian, as he participated in the celebrations.

“Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. … ‘Thomas, Dean,’ a black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. ‘Turpin, Lisa’ became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron’s turn.”

“He’ll be a Gryffindor,” said Fabian confidently. Gideon put his head in his hands.

“I’m surrounded,” he whispered, horrified.

“He was pale green by now. … ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ … ‘Zabini, Blaise,’ was made a Slytherin. … ‘Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!’”

There were a few laughs around the room at Dumbledore’s strange speech, but Alice couldn’t help but watch Regulus Black, who eyed Dumbledore strangely. She couldn’t read the boy’s expression but after a moment, like he could feel her watching, his gaze snapped to her own.

She raised a single eyebrow at him. He huffed a small laugh and turned away. Strange.

“’Thank you!’ … ‘Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?’”

Peter groaned into his hands, muttering “oh no,” under his breath. Remus laughed.

“He hates that question,” Remus said by way of explanation. From the chortles from the rest of their group, Alice figured Peter must have asked their House ghost a similar question at some point. She laughed. Nearly Headless Nick had always been particularly sensitive about his status. Everyone in Gryffindor knew the criteria of the Headless Hunt by heart because of him.

“Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn’t going at all the way he wanted. … ‘How did he get covered in blood?’”

“How did he?” Alice wondered out loud.

James frowned, looking at Remus for support. Remus only shrugged.

“Ask a Slytherin,” Remus suggested. In unison, Sirius, James and Peter all seemed to turn to Dorcas, who also shrugged helplessly.

“He killed the Gray Lady,” Regulus said flatly. Dorcas glanced at him in surprise.

“You asked him?”

Regulus snorted. “Hardly. I asked the Gray Lady.”

“Reg,” Sirius gave him a strange look. “That’s worse.” Dorcas snorted a laugh and Regulus only shrugged his shoulders. A few more people fell into laughter.

“’I’ve never asked,’ said Nearly Headless Nick delicately. … ‘What about you, Neville?’ said Ron. ‘Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,’” Caradoc trailed off, glancing over at Alice and Frank again, implication setting in. Alice reached out and grabbed Frank’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

Her stomach rolled dangerously, and it felt like morning sickness had hit her all at once. Frank’s mother, of course. It had to be. Alice didn’t know … she didn’t know how to feel about that, and she instinctively looked over to Frank, his own pale face staring back.

“None of this happening, right?” she tried bravely, hearing the shake in her own voice. Frank’s jaw was tight, and he gave a tense nod.

“Right,” Lily said softly, and when Alice’s gaze shot her hers, Lily’s eyes were full of sympathy.

Caradoc cleared his throat, preparing to start again. “‘Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,’ said Neville, ‘but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. … - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned – ‘”

Alice let out a horrified shriek.

“ – but nothing happened until I was eight. … Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he brought me my toad.’”

“Absolute delusion, that man,” Alice hissed, and Frank reached over to grab her hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze this time. Augusta was an old witch, stuck in her ways, and hardly worth arguing with on most occasions, but this …

“On Harry’s other side, Percy Weasley and Hermoine were talking about lessons … Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teach with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.’”

“No way,” Sirius denied immediately. To his credit, Snape looked equally horrified.

“It happened very suddenly. … ‘Ouch!’ Harry clapped a hand to his head.”

“What the hell was that?” James demanded, eyes sliding accusatorily toward Snape. Snape, for his part, was frowning at the book, like this was the most unbelievable part of the entire story.

“’What is it?’ … ‘No wonder he’s looking so nervous, that’s Professor Snape.’”

Snape sat back in his chair, hard, his face bewildered. He looked appalled at the thought that he was in this story. Or maybe at his role in this story.

“You would be a horrible teacher,” Lily said quietly and despite the words, it was surprisingly free of malice. Snape glanced at her.

“I know,” he said.

“He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to – everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job.’”

“Of course, he is,” Sirius said darkly.

“’Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.’”

Alice fidgeted awkwardly at the tension in the room. Snape trained his eyes on the table in front of him, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Alice couldn’t help but stare at the man’s covered forearm. She trusted Dumbledore, of course she did, but it suddenly seemed an unbelievable risk to sit in a room with Severus Snape. And that wasn’t even mentioning the boy on the other side of him.

“Please continue, if you would, Caradoc,” Dumbledore said when the silence lasts just a little too long.

“Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at him again. … ‘And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.’”

“Of course, it is,” Lily grumbled. Alice smiled, knowing her friend still sometimes struggled with a witch’s casual attitude toward danger.

It was different, in the Muggle world, Lily had explained to her. An assurance, or something of the sort, when it came to safety. It sounded bizarre to Alice when Lily first described it, but now, listening to this story describe a danger so close to her son … If this were a future they were going to change, Alice wanted whatever was on the school grounds far away from Neville, Harry and the rest of the children.

“Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. … The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. … He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke the next day, he didn’t remember the dream at all.”

“Curious,” was all Dumbledore said when Caradoc finished.

“Alright, who’s next,” Caradoc asked.

“I can read,” Elphias said. He was still sitting off to the side, Aberforth coming occasionally to lean in to listen with him. Caradoc got up and handed the older man the book.

Elphias gazed in wonder at it for a moment before nodding in approval. He looked toward the front of the room, where Pandora and Sybil sat.

“An excellent piece of magic,” Elphias said.

Sybil smiled for what seemed like the first time that evening.

“Thank you,” Pandora replied pleasantly.

Then, Elphias began to read. “Chapter Eight. The Potions Master.”

Chapter Text

Minerva McGonagall was not a woman to be unnerved. When Albus had approached her with his plans for the evening, before he even got to his request about Regulus Black, she had been against it. It was one of the few things her mam had told her when she was young. There was little to be gained with meddling with time.

Over the course of the evening, she had a horrible feeling she would be proven wrong.

“’There, look.’” Elphias’s voice hushed the room again as the group once more settled in to listen. Elphias’s voice was the only one in the room. They were all being surprisingly patient, for a group of witches and wizards, half of whom were told they were to die in the next year. Minerva’s heart clenched at the thought.

It had always been a bit difficult to get members of the Order to pay attention during meetings and the less said about her former student’s ability to sit still and be quiet, the better. But, in the room now, people seemed almost scared to speak. And as she gazed out at the children, because they were all children really, that once sat in her classroom, she remembered what she wouldn’t have given for most of them to be silent. The Prewetts always the whispering in the back, casting unapproved spells, stealing laughs. And this most recent crop of Gryffindors, along with Ms. Meadows and Ms. Vance, never seeming to sit still. The definition of disruptive. They were quiet now, staring at the book in Elphias’s hands. And she found she didn’t like it one bit.

“’Where? … The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.”

“It can be so confusing those first months,” Lily said remorsefully, eyes distant, like she was lost in her own past. Minerva knew what the girl meant. She herself had been raised by a muggle father, her mother being the witch, though she rarely used magic around the house growing up. Even then, Hogwarts can feel like a different world, even to some raised in wizard households.

“The ghosts didn’t help either … Professor McGonagall was again different. … ‘Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.’” Elphias looked up, eyes twinkling at her. “I see you take after your predecessor.”

Albus gave an amused chuckle at that. “You flatter me, Elphias,” the old man said fondly, and Minerva fought a smile, shaking her head.

“You were right terrifying, our first day, Minnie,” Sirius said, cheeky grin turning her way. She gave the boy a stern look.

“Clearly not frightening enough,” she said pointedly. It was useless, though. Her former student’s grin only widened.

“Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. … Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke.”

Minerva sighed disappointedly. Defense Professors were few and far between, and none staying longer than a year for just over a decade now. It left poorly prepared graduates in the wake of the worst war on Britain’s shores in a century.

“His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, … ‘Snape’s Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them – we’ll be able to see if it’s true.’”

Minerva shot a look at the boy seated a few people down from her, on the far end of the table, squished between Albus and Regulus Black. He was pointedly avoiding eye contact with the majority of the room, something for which she did not blame him. His dark hair fell in front of his eyes and Minerva was reminded, painfully, of the small child that would slink in and out of her classroom, eyes always cast downward unless they were looking at a certain red-headed girl from Minerva’s own house.

From Albus’s brief description, Severus Snape had been all but caught, eavesdropping on the interview with Ms. Trelawney earlier that day. It was unspoken, but Minerva knew that Voldemort had long been sending his followers to watch Albus if he ever left Hogwarts. Just the previous year, a potential Defense Professor found herself Impuriused, used to report back the Headmasters movements. But this time, when Albus had explained the situation, it was clear that this was not simply a Death Eater apprehended.

Minerva knew some combination of warding and Legilimency had taken place before the meeting, Albus had assured her of that, when he promised the other boy’s loyalty. Severus Snape was little more than a prisoner at the moment. Though if the glares certain members of the Order would send his way were any indication, it was not quite entirely understood why said prison was in attendance at an Order meeting. Rather than, say, Azkaban.

“’Wish McGonagall favored us,’ said Harry.” Elphias continued, and this elicited a snort from James. “Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn’t stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.”

“In the first week!” Sirius complained, like he was the one assigned inches. On the other side of Pandora Lovegood, Regulus Black rolled his eyes.

“Just then, the mail arrived. … Send us an answer back with Hedwig. Hagrid.”

“Oh, we really must visit him soon,” Lily said, breathlessly, her eyes watering. Minerva knew it meant so much to the girl that Hagrid had begun caring for her son. James gave her a soft smile.

“We will,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Harry borrowed Ron’s quill … Snape didn’t dislike Harry – he hated him.”

Minerva could see Severus sink lower in his seat, jaw clenched tight, as glares in the room turned on him.

“Of bloody course,” snarled Sirius darkly. She saw Severus’s shoulders pull even more tense and she was reminded suddenly, of the boy she had known, head pressed tightly with one of her own students, as their excited voices continually rose loud enough that she was forced to reprimand the pair. Minerva wondered if she would ever be able to look at her former students and see anything other than children.

Part of her hoped she never would.

“Mr. Black,” Minerva snapped, realizing her mistake only when two boys in the room went stiff at her voice. Her eyes fixed on Sirius. “let us continue to read.”

Elphias seemed to take her prompting. “Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. … ‘Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity.’”

Minerva watched James’s jaw tighten, though he did a remarkable job of biting his tongue. Lily’s eyes were locked right on Severus, as if daring the boy to look up at her. Tears brimmed the corners of her eyes.

“Draco Malfoy and his friends, Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. … ‘What would I get it I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?’”

“How the bloody hell is he supposed to know that?” James exploded, clearly done holding his tongue. Contrary to all previous indication, Severus’s head shot up, sneer growing on his face.

“If he’d read a book before coming to class,” the other boy scoffed.

“I don’t even know what you’d get adding those two together – “ started James and Severus sneered.

“I suppose we know who he takes after, then.”

“Drought of the Living Death,” Lily said quietly, her green eyes never leaving Severus. The boy finally glanced over, smirk falling off his face. “And it’s a Fifth-Year potion. It would never be found in a beginner’s book.”

Severus didn’t seem to have a response to that, face falling black as he stared at Lily. Finally, Elphias’s voice picked up again.

“Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? … ‘I think Hermoine does, though, why don’t you try her?’”

The room listened in relative silence at the exchange relayed in the book. Lily and Severus had broken eye contact, the former now staring at the hand now held by her husband, tracing small circles into the back of his hand. Most of the others seemed too afraid to speak up, settling instead for eyeing the front of the room suspiciously, as if making up their minds about why Severus was included in this reading.

Minerva glanced instead at Albus, his words ringing in her mind, when she had questioned him about the other addition to this reading, though she thought of a very different boy now.

“He’s just a child, what does he have to do with the war?”

“Very much, I fear.” Albus had replied gravely. Minerva’s heart felt heavy in her chest.

“A few people laughed; … ‘And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.’”

Sirius gave a loud scoff at the point deduction, settling back into what had become a near constant glare at Severus. As fragile as this civility was, Minerva knew it was mostly due to respect for Albus, and perhaps curiosity on where these books would lead. But they had barely begun the first story and Minerva could almost see the fissures it was creating. They had seven to get through and Minerva feared things would not get easier the more they read.

“Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. … Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.”

“He’s hurt!” Alice from the back of the class, a fierce glare turning on Severus. Severus only locked his jaw, keeping his head held high this time, meeting her gaze challengingly. Minerva couldn't help her own glare slipping over at the clear disregard for a child's safety. She didn't care that this book was describing future actions, or that Albus likely also didn't know his reasoning. Minerva needed an explanation for this one.

“’Idiot boy!’ snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his want. … ‘That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.’”

“That is completely unfair!” Marlene complained, her own anger being taken out on the glass of butterbeer she gripped in front of her.

“This was so unfair,” Elphias continued and Dorcas shot her an amused look. “that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron. … He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.”

“Oh my! Fang has gotten so big!” Lily exclaimed, looking at Remus, whose own eyes sparkled. She sounded delighted. Minerva had gone out to Hagrid’s hut when he had rescued Fang two years back, and the pup had grown significantly in just two years’ time. Minerva could only imagine how the hound changed in another ten.

“There was only one room inside. … ‘But he seemed to really hate me.’ ‘Rubbish!’ said Hagrid. ‘why should he?’ Yet Harry couldn’t help thinking that Hagrid didn’t quite meet his eyes when he said that.”

James narrowed his eyes at Severus, gaze distant, like he was trying to solve a puzzle in his head. Minerva glanced curiously at Severus herself. She found the boy glaring at the book in Elphias’s hands. She couldn’t fathom why Albus had hired him, knowing his loyalties. Minerva wasn’t a member of the Order, but even she knew that her former student was rumored to be a high-ranking Death Eater, close to Voldemort himself. Certainly not someone that Albus would allow inside the castle or near the students. And yet, he clearly had.

“’How’s yer brother Charlie?’ … Had that been what the thieves were looking for?”

Minerva paused at Harry’s internal thoughts, thinking back to what the younger Black had proclaimed earlier in the story. In all likelihood, the mysterious object was a Philosopher’s stone, though the only one she knew of was with Nicolas Flamel, likely in America. She wasn’t sure why Hagrid would ever be delivering one for Albus, or why the old Headmaster would have need of one.

“As Harry as Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets were weighed down with rock cakes they’d been too polite to refuse, … And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn’t want to tell Harry?” Elphias finished, glancing up as he was done.

The tension in the room was obvious, careening quickly to what was sure to be an explosion had Albus not sat forward. “I think two more chapters tonight should be enough,” he said, voice quiet but commanding. The words seemed to jar everyone from a trance, a few glancing outside, as if to check how late it was. “We can continue reading tomorrow morning, though I understand if not all of you can attend.”

Minerva glanced at Albus, trying to catch his eye, but the old Headmaster did not seem to notice her. Or, more likely, he was avoiding her.

“For now, Emmeline, if you would?” he continued pleasantly. The Ravenclaw jumped a little at the mention of her name but she quickly nodded, taking the book from the outstretched hands of Elphias.

“Of course,” she said, slightly dazed. Minerva could hardly fault her. “Chapter Nine. The Midnight Duel,” she began.

Chapter Text

Dorcas Meadows felt certain she would wake any moment to find this entire evening had been a very strange dream. When she received Dumbledore’s Patronus, requesting her presence at the Hog’s Head for the Order meeting, she had known something was up. She had already planned on attending, most of the Order usually did, but she had never been summoned before. The etiquette of the Order had always been very clear: you are here because you want to be.

Dorcas had always wanted. Maybe it was because of her upbringing, her parents fighting for equality in the Muggle world, strong in their beliefs. Maybe it was seven years at Hogwarts, in a House she loved and hated, surrounded by friends and enemies, sometimes at the same time. Sometimes within the same person. Maybe this was always who Dorcas was, was always going to be. She had never not wanted to be at an Order meeting.

Until maybe this one.

She tried to stop herself from reaching out the feel Marlene beside her. The blond had been pressed to her side after reading about what the future held for her – something Dorcas was trying very hard to forget about – a passing remark in a book about another, her death not even worth detailing. Dorcas took a deep breath. But now Marlene was pulled further away, leaning forward while Emmeline began the next chapter.

“Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy.” Emmeline started. Dorcas’s attention was drawn back to the story. “Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, … ‘Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.’”

“Impossible,” James declared, almost reflexively and Sirius gave him a funny smile.

“You’re forgetting, Prongs, that this is also Evans’s kid. Need I remind everyone of our lovely Lily’s first time on a broom?” Sirius laughed. He was the only one who still called Lily ‘Evans,’ though Lily never seemed to have a problem with it. Almost smiling at the nickname.

She was not smiling now. “Sirius Orion Black,” she started dangerously. “If you continue speaking, I might just have to remind everyone of Sixth year during Winter Hols – “

“We don’t need – “

“When you –“ A hand clamped over Lily’s mouth, stifling her laughs. Most of the room seemed to be in a good mood, watching the exchange.

“Please continue, Emmeline,” Sirius said nervously.

“He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.” Emmeline continued, smiling this time.

Dorcas’s eyes fell to James, who was staring at the book a little wistfully. She had never been particularly interested in Quidditch during her years at Hogwarts, it was more the players who would draw her attention. Or – at least – one particular player. But she found herself looking, thinking nostalgically as Harry looked forward to his first time on a broom. It wasn’t hard to picture a small boy that looked like James with Lily’s eyes, some mixture of James’ troublemaking tendencies and Lily’s heart. But it was uneasy, in a way, to read about the future like this, somewhere between invasive and indulgent. There was a reason wizards weren’t supposed to mess with the future. Not for the first time, Dorcas wondered what in the hell Dumbledore had been thinking.

“’You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself.’ … ‘Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.’”

Dorcas glanced serendipitously at the Longbottoms near the back wall. Frank had a frown playing on his face and Alice reached over to offer him a small smile. Frank had been a Keeper back in his day, on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and while he had never quite been as mad about Quidditch as James, Dorcas knew he was wondering why his mother was keeping Neville away from the sport.

“Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. … ‘It’s a Remembrall!’ … ‘you’ve forgotten something …’”

“Well that seems absolutely useless,” scoffed Fabian, shaking his head. Gideon had a thoughtful look on his face, likely trying to puzzle out the spell mechanics behind such an invention.

A Remembrall sounded like the newest Zonko’s product, selling quickly off the shelves for a season and then deemed as useless as the last. There had been a whole underground market for them when she had been at Hogwarts, though it was easy to forget that those days hadn’t been so long since.

“Neville was trying to remember what he’d forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hands. … ‘Just looking,’ he said, as he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.” Emmeline paused. “Bully,” she muttered under her breath, eyes flickering over to Frank and Alice, who looker rightfully indignatios in the back.

Dorcas shook her head. The relationship between the Malfoy boy and Harry was shaping up very poorly, it almost seemed destined. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin. She thought first of James and Snape, their feud nearly legendary in the halls but eventually her gaze slipped over to Marlene. She slipped her hand into her girlfriends.

“At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. … ‘Come back boy!’ … Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, face as white as his.”

“Oh, Godric,” Alice whispered, one hand clenching Franks and the other wrapped around her body protectively. Dorcas winced sympathetically.

“Keep reading,” Frank strangled out, staring at the book in Emmeline’s hands. Emmeline jumped to do just so.

“’Broken wrist,’ Harry heard her mutter. … ‘Did you see his face, the great lump?’”

Alice let out an indignant squawk, glaring at the book like it was the boy in question. Dorcas gritted her teeth, trying to remind herself that this was just an eleven-year-old boy. A stupid eleven-year-old boy. Then again, her eyes glanced to the front, where Severus Snape sat. They had all been eleven once.

She sometimes couldn’t stand it, looking back at her school days. Boys she shared a House with, girls with which she shared a room. Drunken parties and late nights and somewhere along the way, right before her eyes and yet seeming without her notice, some had completely changed. Or maybe they had always been that way, and she had simply never noticed.

“The other Slytherins joined in. … Harry grabbed his broom.”

“Oh, hell no, Harry. You’d better not,” Lily said darkly, eyes narrowed at the book.

James grinned sheepishly at her, like she knew he was to blame for this.

“Come on, Lils, he’s defending his friend’s honor!” James grinned. Lily turned her glare on her husband.

“’No!’ shouted Hermoine Granger. … Harry knew, somehow, what to do. … A few people were clapping.”

“Brilliant,” James said, a little breathless, eyes distant like he was trying to picture the scene. A few people broke out into scattered applause themselves, Frank looking some combination of grateful and impressed. Next to her, Marlene was shaking with silent laughter.

“’No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,’ Harry called. … ‘Never – in all my time at Hogwarts – ‘ … ‘That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.’”

“Aw, Minnie,” Sirius complained dramatically. Professor McGonagall turned to him, eyes flashing. Before she could say anything however, Emmeline rushed to continue.

“Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall’s wake as she strode toward the castle.”

“You’re not even going to punish Malfoy?” Marlene asked, indignant, eyes widening in shock at McGonagall. McGonagall was staring at the book with furrowed eyebrows, like she wasn’t entirely sure of her future self’s actions either.

“He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. … ‘But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick’s class looking confused.”

“Wood?” James said, leaning forward a bit. “Like Irene’s Wood’s boy?”

“Fifth year,” Marlene muttered next to Dorcas, seeming to count on her fingers for a moment. “That adds up!” she exclaimed excitedly, looking at James, eyes shining.

“Erm, who?” Dorcas asked, wracking her brain for someone named Irene from Hogwarts. Marlene turned to her excitedly.

“Irene Wood! Keeper for the Hollyhead Harpy’s!” Marlene gushed.

“Oh, she’s brilliant,” James continued excitedly. “If she had been called up to the England team in ’74 there’s no way we’d have lost to Syria – “

“Pugley was a good Keeper,” Frank cut in with a frown, obviously having some earthly clue what the pair was talking about. James looked at him, entirely aghast.

“Pugley?” he said, horrified. “He could barely stay on his broom that entire game!”

Dorcas looked pleadingly at Emmeline.

“Please continue the story,” she begged. James snorted indignantly and Emmeline smiled.

“’Follow me, you two.’ … ‘Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I’ve found you a Seeker,’”

“What?!” James exclaimed, nearly jumped from his chair, grin wide on his face. “First year?” he said.

“It was quite the catch,” Marlene mused.

James’s shining gaze turned toward McGonagall, who looked somewhat satisfied at her book-self.

“Minnie, I love you,” he said seriously.

“Oh, my goodness,” Lily groaned, shaking her head and trying to hide the smile that was climbing up her lips.

“Wood’s delighted expression changed from puzzlement to delight. … ‘Your father would have been proud,’ she said. ‘He was an excellent Quidditch player himself.’”

James’s smile was much more subdued as he looked at his former Head of House.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said sincerely, eyes a little sad. McGonagall smiled kindly at him, inclining her head.

“’You’re joking.’ … ‘We’re on the team too – Beaters.’”

Fabian snorted, elbowing Gideon who rolled his eyes.

“Of course, they are,” Gideon said fondly.

“’I tell you, we’re going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year,’ … ‘What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?’”

Remus snorted. “Those haven’t been a thing since the 1800s. Why in the hell would he have heard of it?”

“’Of course, he has,’ … ‘Throw it away and punch him on the nose,’ Ron suggested.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “Excellent advice.”

Lily shook her head, eyeing the book nervously.

“’Excuse me.’ … ‘He’s late, maybe he’s chickened out,’ Ron whispered.”

“More likely he never had any intention of going,” Sirius said darkly. “Little snake.”

Dorcas bit the inside of her lip. She was used to comments like this from most of the Order. Why wouldn’t she? So many of the enemies ranks were filled with her housemates, she knew, perhaps more than any of them, how it looked. Slytherins had a reputation and many of them fed into it or simply couldn’t be bothered fighting against it. They wielded it like a weapon or wore it like armor and at some point Dorcas found herself too exhausted to try and discovers which it was. Her eyes flicked over to Regulus Black, seated at the front, guarded expression on his face.

“Then a noise in the next room made them jump. … ‘Get out of the way,’ snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves – this was a big mistake.”

“Oh no,” Remus muttered, wincing in anticipation.

“’STUDENTS OUT OF BED!’ … ‘Alohamora!’”

Dorcas blinked in surprise at the spell Hermoine has used. That was fairly advanced for a first year. She could see Lily looking appreciatively at the book as well.

“The lock clicked and the door swung open – they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.”

“They have no idea where they are,” Peter muttered sadly.

James glanced at him in surprise. “What? Where are they?”

Peter’s eyebrows rose. “Charms corridor,” Peter said with emphasis. Dorcas didn’t get it immediately either.

“Oh fuck,” Remus said suddenly. “The third floor.”

Everything seemed to click into place.

“’Which way did they go, Peeves?’ … They were staring straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, … ‘Where on earth have you all been?’”

The room seemed to take a collective breath when the trio finally made it back to Gryffindor common room. Why the hell was there a Cerberus in Hogwarts? Dorcas thought, a little hysterically. She looked at Dumbledore, as if he might have some explanation for this, but the old Headmaster was only looking at the book thoughtfully.

Cerberus had been classified as a dark creature centuries back, when packs roamed across the countryside. They didn’t pose as much danger since most Muggles and Wizards had moved towards urban centers, but in no way did that mean they were safe in a school.

“’Never mind that – pig snout, pig snout,’ panted Harry, … It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault sever hundred and thirteen was.”

“But how did Dumbledore know Gringotts was going to get broken into?” Marlene asked, frowning.

“I have a hard time believing a door that can be unlocked by Alohamora is safer than Gringotts,” Dorcas added, frowning. There were so many questions swirling in her mind. Sure, a Cerberus could be an excellent security measure, but Gringotts had dragons. If a thief wanted to steal the stone, a Cerberus certainly wouldn’t stop them. It was the wards at Hogwarts keeping them at bay most likely. But, of course, this only begged the larger question. Why was Dumbledore hiding a Philosopher’s stone in the first place?

“Who’s next?” Emmeline asked quietly.

“I can read the last one tonight,” Gideon offered, and Emmeline handed him the book.

“Chapter ten,” he started. “Halloween.”

Chapter Text

Severus Snape had terrible luck. He had been on a simple mission for the Dark Lord: learn the contents of a meeting that Albus Dumbledore was holding at Hog’s Head. When the meeting had turned out to be nothing more than a job interview for a position as Divination Professor, Severus had nearly left the bar right then, damn the consequences. He had better things to be doing with his time. More to offer the Cause than mere ears.

Now it simply felt like the Universe was playing a prank on him. And Severus absolutely despised pranks.

The Dark Mark on his arm had yet to burn, but he knew it was only a matter of time, despite what that old coot had said. Dumbledore had promised Severus that if the Dark Lord called him, he would be free to answer, despite the anti-apparational wards placed over the Hog’s Head. And all the additional security measures the old man had decided to take. Dumbledore had taken his wand, explained the aforementioned security that had been put in place in an extraordinarily meticulous manner, and then gave him a soft smile, like they were old friends.

Severus would wring the old man’s neck if he could.

“Malfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful,”

Severus sympathized with the Malfoy boy, though that was something he would certainly never tell Lucius. Potter seemed to have escaped the trap by pure luck, something he certainly took after his father in. Severus grinded his teeth together, staring resolutely at the dusty floor of the bar. He couldn’t think of a place he wished to be less.

Of course, Severus never got what he wished.

“Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron though that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. … Hermoine was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus.”

Lily sighed dramatically and Severus risked a glance up and saw her shaking her head. Severus could tell Lily liked the girl, or at least had some fondness for her. Of course, Potter’s child held none of the same sentiment.

“All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later,”

“Oh great, here we go,” Meadows moaned into her hands. Severus cared little for the woman seated at the bar, and even less for her louder counterpart draped next to her. Meadows had been a Slytherin in the year above him, but the older boys had told him all about her, thinking she was above her House. She hung out more with Ravenclaws and Gryffindors than her own dormmates.

“What do you mean?” Potter asked with a frown.

Meadows rolled her eyes. “This stupid back and forth between Slytherins and Gryffindors. Come on, aren’t you tired of it?”

Potter didn’t seem to have an answer for that and before Severus could stop himself, he let out a scoff.

Immediately, Dorcas’s blazing eyes turned on him.

“I’m talking about you too, arsehole,” she said harshly. “You’re all concerned about payback you never ask yourself how it even started.”

Severus glared right back. “I know where it started,” he spit back. He did. That damn train compartment. The first breakfast in the Great Hall. Charms class. Potions. Every damn corridor in Hogwarts. And that day by the Great Lake. Severus knew exactly how it started. He would never forget.

“Let’s just keep reading,” Lovegood said on the other side of Regulus Black. She leaned forward, nodding at one of the Prewetts. Severus could never tell them apart.

Severus sat back in his seat, gaze back on the table in front of him but he could feel eyes on him. Finally, he glanced over. Regulus Black was staring at him, gaze inscrutable.

Severus narrowed his eyes, daring the boy to say something, but eventually his gaze dropped away.

Good.

“As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone’s attention was caught at once by a long thin package carried by six large screech owls. … Professor M. McGonagall.”

“No way. No bloody way,” Potter said, like an excited child, jumping in his seat.

“Two Thousand,” Black echoed in wonder.

“I bet it tops the new Windglider’s max speed easily,” Potter added like he wasn’t speaking complete gibberish.

“Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron the read. … ‘Comets look flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.’”

“Faster than a Comet Two-Sixty!” Potter exclaimed, like everyone hadn’t just heard whichever Prewett had read it.

Lily looked at Potter with a fond smile that had Severus’s insides curdling. “Alright, dear. We all get it. Broom is fast,” she said.

Potter looked at her in mock horror that had Lily laughing and Severus forced his eyes away, wishing the story would continue already.

“Ron grinned at Harry. … ‘I see what McGonagall meant … you really are a natural.’”

Severus rolled his eyes. This whole situation was rot with privilege. Of course, oh-so special Potter would be allowed onto the Quidditch team in his first year. Like father, like son. And the whole school was just seeming to go along with it.

“’I’m just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you’ll be joining team practice three times a week.’ … ‘A game of Quidditch only ends when the snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages – I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on Substitutes so the players could get some sleep.’”

“Ah, 1496 World Cup,” Potter said wistfully. “Lithuania versus Portugal. Iconic game.”

“You say that like you were there,” Lupin shook his head. Potter grinned at him. Severus had been keeping a close eye on Lupin throughout the reading, the other man content mostly to sit there and listen. He wondered how many in the room knew what he truly was, and how many would still be fine with sitting in here with him, once they knew the truth.

“I never understood Quidditch,” Lily said suddenly, interrupting Severus’s thoughts. Potter looked at her horrified.

“What? But I explained it to you. You just read – “

“No, no, I get that. I just, why even have Chasers? If the Seeker wins the game every time anyways?” she asked. Potter’s mouth dropped open. Lupin appeared to be hiding laughter.

“The Seeker doesn’t always decide the game,” McKinnon added from across the room. “Think of the ’66 World Cup Qualifier between the States and Cameroon. Haynes caught the snitch, but America still lost because they were trailing by two hundred points.”

Lily looked at her friend, mystified. She clearly had no reference for whatever McKinnon had just said.

“So why on earth would he catch the snitch!”

“Lils, it not all about winning the game,” Potter explained with a smile on his face now. Severus ground his teeth together. “It’s about how much or how little you lose by. Leagues are decided that way. If you are down by a hundred points and catch the snitch, you’ve only won yourself three points, because you won the game by fifty. But if you are ahead by fifty and catch the snitch, you have yourself five points, because you won the game by two hundred or more. It all comes into play in the league standings, whoever has the most points by the end of the season. Seekers have to be aware of this, so they know exactly when to catch the snitch.”

It all sounded nonsense to Severus, but he could see Lily’s confusion slowly fading.

“So, it’s … maths? My son is good at maths?”

Potter shrugged. “Sure. But let’s be clear. Seekers win games. Chasers win leagues.”

Lily smacked the back of his head with a smile but Potter only chuckled.

“I’m only saying – “ he started again.

“He could go on forever about this, Lily.” Lupin said. “Please, Gideon. Keep reading.”

“’Well that’s it – any questions?’ … ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn’t gone off chasing dragons.’” Gideon Prewett stopped reading, when his brother gave him a playful elbow to his side.

“I told you that toy broom was a good gift!” he exclaimed happily. His brother raised his hands, smile on his own face.

“I wasn’t saying Charlie wouldn’t like it! I said Molly would kill us. Which she nearly did.” Fabian Prewett only laughed.

“Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he’d already been at Hogwarts two months. … ‘I think she heard you.’ ‘So?’”

“That was cruel,” Lily said quietly. Severus thought that it was little surprise that Potter’s child’s friend was a bully, but he thought better of saying it aloud.

The Prewett reading sighed sadly. “He’s embarrassed,” he said. “He shouldn’t be taking it out on Hermoine, but he isn’t being malicious.”

Lily gave him a soft smile. “I know,” she replied, a little sad.

“’She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.’ … ‘Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know.’”

“Troll?” Fortescue – or Alice Longbottom – exclaimed from the back, a little horrified. Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Potter, almost sure that his son had something to do with this, despite the book not mentioning it.

“He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. … ‘Prefects,’ he rumbled, ‘lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!’”

Regulus Black, who had been so quiet Severus had nearly forgotten about him, snorted. “Slytherin dormitories are in the dungeons.”

Meadows was frowning as well, but few others paid attention. Severus knew immediately what the younger Black was getting at and as loath as he was to agree with him, he did. There was little thought given to Slytherin students at the school. It was clear that very few of the faculty cared for them, especially the Headmaster himself. Severus’s eyes darted over the Dumbledore on his other side, frowning at the book. He was reminded of one of the worst nights of his life, sitting in the old man’s office, listening to his explanation of why he would not expel a murdered from the school.

Bile rose in throat.

“Percy was in his element. … ‘I’ve just thought – Hermoine.’”

“Oh no,” Alice Longbottom whispered in horror. “She probably doesn’t know!”

“They should tell a teacher,” Lily said, body rigid with tension. She seemed to know the boy had no intention of doing that.

“’What about her?’ … Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape.”

Severus gave a jolt at his mention in the story, not expecting it. He felt eyes immediately turn toward him. Most in accusation. Severus glared back.

“’What’s he doing?’ Harry whispered.”

“I’d like to know that too,” the gruff voice of Moody cut in, eyeing Severus with unbridled suspicion. Severus held his chin high, as if daring the old Auror.

“’Why isn’t he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?’ … ‘He’s headed for the third floor,’ Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.”

“He’s going after the Stone,” Black cut in suddenly, fiery grey eyes landing on Severus. Severus’s lip curled back. He was tense, ready to rise when – suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Enough of that,” the calm voice of Dumbledore cut through the tension in the room. “I’ve vouched already for Severus. Let us continue to read.”

Severus ground his teeth together. He wished the old Headmaster would stop saying that. He had no idea what possessed the old coot to vouch for him, but it was certainly nothing Severus had done. He sat stiffly refusing to glance over at the other set of eyes that were boring into him, the same grey as his brother’s.

Severus hated Regulus Black. He always had. Since third-year, when the boy had been sorted, the same aristocratic features and arrogance as his brother. Luckily, Severus hadn’t had to deal with the other boy much. Unfortunately, considering the prior summer, that was about to change. Regulus Black had walked into the Death Eaters with the same privilege he was afforded in every other area of his life. Bellatrix as his mentor had basically been a blood right, while Severus was forced to continually prove himself, Regulus Black hadn’t had to suffer a day in his life.

Severus would have been happy ignoring the boy going forward, but recent events had surely just changed that. The other boy’s presence in the room gave him power over Severus that he could not allow the younger boy to wield, should he ever go to the Dark Lord and tell him of what was happening. At best, it was mutually assured destruction. After all, Regulus was here too.

“’Can you smell something?’ … The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside.”

“Oh lord,” Lily muttered, grabbing Potter’s hand. Her body was rigid with nerves and she stared at the book intently.

“It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room. … ‘Hermoine!’ they said together.”

“This is a mess,” moaned Alice.

“It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? … The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.”

“Oh brilliant!” Exclaimed Fabian Prewett. He, like the rest of the room, had been in a tense silence throughout the fight but was now grinning madly.

“Absolutely mad,” Black said, shaking his head with a smile. Severus refrained from rolling his eyes. Of course, they would all love the diminutive Potter getting into trouble.

“Harry got to his feet. … ‘Please Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me!’”

McGonagall’s eyebrow rose at that. Black and Potter were looking at the book in surprise, though Lily stared a little fondly.

“’Miss Granger!’ … You may go.’ … There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-four mountain troll is one of them.” Gideon closed the book, glancing up. “That’s the end of the chapter.”

No one immediately moved, all seeming held in a strange trace, like maybe they were too afraid to move. Then, an ancient man in the corner, nearly as only as Dumbledore, stood slowly and stretched. “I suppose I ought to head out then. Is there a time we should meet tomorrow?” he asked. Several others in the room began murmuring, a few standing as well.

Dumbledore smiled at him. “Perhaps ten?” he suggested. “I’m sure Aberforth can provide a suitable breakfast.” The barman only grunted, but both of the men seemed to take this as an affirmative. Slowly, the rest of the Order began to stand, chatting quietly and seeming to get ready to leave.

Dumbledore turned to Severus, and by extension Regulus, who sat rigidly beside him.

“I had Aberforth set both of your room. For convenience,” he said. “I thought it easier if you two stay here, tonight. At least until this is all over,” Dumbledore finished pleasantly, eyes twinkling. Severus would rather sleep in a gutter, but he was under the distinct impression his alternative was Azkaban.

“I have exams,” Regulus said slowly, like the Headmaster might have forgotten. It was clear to Severus that the others did not know of the Mark on Regulus’s arm.

But Dumbledore still offered him only a vacant smile. “I’m sure a note from the Headmaster will excuse you from them.”

Regulus’s face was a blank mask as he nodded back, and Severus could recognize the tell-tale signs of Occlumency. A natural, of course, Severus thought bitterly.

“Is it possible for me to get a room for the night as well, Professor?” Lovegood asked, voice melodic and absolutely unaffected by the absurdity of the situation. Regulus looked at the girl, eyes wide. “For the night at least. It is rather late.”

Dumbledore gave the girl a soft smile. “Of course. Aberforth can show you up.”

The barman – Aberforth, he supposed – came over after that like he was summoned. He glared at them suspiciously, and Severus fought the urge to snap back at him. Once they were out of the main room, following behind the old barman, Severus heard Regulus turn toward Lovegood.

“’Rather late’?” the boy asked suspiciously. Severus’s eyes darted over and he saw Lovegood shrug.

“The stars are out,” she said by way of explanation and the way Regulus’s eyes widened, he got the suspicious feeling that the words had a deeper meaning.

“Only got two rooms,” Aberforth said gruffly. “Two of you will have to share.”

“I’ll take my own,” Severus said quickly as the four of them climbed the stairs. He had no doubt the other two would not mind – not that he would care if they did. Severus was desperate for the silence.

Aberforth turned and raised an eyebrow, snorting. “Yeah right,” he said. “The Death Eaters can share. The lady will have the room at the end of the hall.”

“But – “ Severus began.

“I’m not putting up my wards twice,” Aberforth cut off with a note of finality. Severus snapped his mouth shut at the confirmation that they were essentially being held prisoner. Aberforth opened the door at the top of the stairs and to Severus’s relief, there were two beds inside, pushed on opposite walls of the room.

Severus glanced again at the barman, opening his mouth to protest when Regulus cut him off, turning to Lovegood and giving her a thin smile.

“I’ll see you in the morning then?” he said stiffly. Lovegood reached out and gave his arm a slight squeeze. Severus’s eyes rose, not used to seeing anyone touch the boy without a hex being sent their way.

“Of course,” the girl said softly, and Regulus slipped passed Severus and into the room. Severus grit his teeth and followed.

Aberforth closed the door behind them and Severus paused, listening to the man mutter incantations on the other side.

Severus stood there listening, trying to find a weakness in the spells, heart dropping with every second. There was no getting out of here. At least not tonight. Severus glanced up, expecting to see the other boy in a similar mindset, but instead he found Regulus pulling back the sheets of his bed, kicking off his shoes.

“What are you doing?” Severus asked harshly. Regulus paused, glancing up, one eyebrow raised.

“Going to bed,” Regulus said slowly like Severus was eighty and going a bit dotty. Severus glared back.

“You’re not the least bit interested in getting out of here?” he asked back. Regulus only shrugged.

“Did Aberforth mess up the wards?” he asked in a bored tone. Severus turned back to the door, gripping the handle and giving it a good shake. He jumped back, hissing, when it gave him a burn. Severus turned to glare at the other boy like this was his fault.

“You’re fine with all of this?” he asked harshly, finally moving away from the door to pace the room. Again, Regulus gave a half-hearted shrug. Severus refrained from wringing his neck.

“Doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice.”

Severus snorted in disgust. He had no earthly idea what Regulus was doing here, he barely had an idea of what Regulus was doing at the Death Eater meetings Severus had seen him at. The boy had no ambition. No desire for greatness. No willingness to prove himself. Or, perhaps, it was because he had never needed to. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth he had no idea what it was like to fight for respect, for power. It had always been given to him.

“Of course, you would say that,” Severus muttered, going to his own bed and kicking his shoes off.

Regulus’s head snapped toward him, eyes darkening. “What does that mean?” the boy asked sharply. Severus rolled his eyes, glaring at him. Severus was pulsing with anger. Anger at everything. Anger at the situation. Anger at Regulus Black.

“You don’t even seem to want to know what’s going on. Just going to roll over and take it, huh?” Severus said, hoping it would be enough to set the younger boy off. Regulus’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Severus was tense, almost eager for a fight. Blood was rushing in his ears. He wanted to scream. A second later, though, Regulus unclenched his hands, taking a deep breath. Severus grit his own teeth, disappointed.

“Seems pretty obvious to me what is going on,” the boy replied evenly, climbing into bed.

“What?” Severus asked, thrown by the sudden change of tone.

“In the book,” Regulus replied easily. “The Dark Lord is trying to steal the Stone.”

“Why?” Slipped out, before Severus could think about it. Regulus looked at him in an absurd way, like the answer should have been obvious. Severus sort of wanted to smack him. At the very least, as payback.

“Come on, you’re the resident potions expert, aren’t you?” Regulus asked without a hint of sarcasm. That almost made it worst. “What potions could be made with the Stone?”

Dark ones, was Severus first thought. Potions that Severus could only ever dream on making. But more than that. The healing properties of the Stone … Severus understood what Regulus was saying.

Severus opened his mouth, prepared to snap back, then he closed it.

“He’s dead,” Severus replied flatly. Regulus looked at him like he was a child, not understanding why the stove was hot.

“You know that’s not true.” Severus stared at the other boy, suddenly reminded that, while Severus might have been in the Dark Lord’s service nearly two years already, Regulus had grown up surrounded by Death Eaters. Bellatrix had been whispering in the boy’s ear long before Severus’s.

“You mean me,” Severus deduced. “You think I’m after it.” It made sense to Severus. Acting on the Dark Lord’s orders in the castle. Regulus was quiet now in his bed.

“Do you think you’re on his orders?” Regulus asked quietly.

“Who else’s?” Severus snorted.

Regulus did not reply. Eventually, the boy extinguished the candle in the room, leaving them both in the darkness. Severus had no choice but to try and sleep.

His eyes refused to fall shut.

Chapter Text

It seemed almost natural to gather in the living room of Lily and James’s small cottage in Godric’s Hollow, nestled at the end of the street, not far from where James had grown up. Lily had been against it, at first, worried that Godric’s Hollow might be as un-Muggle-friendly as other wizarding villages. She’s felt safer, in her and James’s first place, not far from central London. It had been a rather innocuous looking Muggle flat, but extension charms could only get one so far and when James suggested they move to Godric’s Hollow; Lily had leapt at the chance.

At the time, it had mostly been to be closer to James’s parents. It was hard, watching Euphemia and Fleamont grow weaker, Dragon Pox sapping their energy. Once so full of life, it had hurt watching the pair grow pale. Yet somehow, despite the sickness, neither ever let it sap their spirit. Just the day before she passed, Effie had been out in her garden, chatting to Lily about her Wigentree.

Lily had fallen in love with Godric’s Hollow. There was a familiarity in the cobblestone pathways and worn brick that made her wonder why she had ever wanted to stay in the city to begin with. It had been one of the first things she thought, when her and James walked the streets that first night in town.

This is a place we can raise a family.

The thought made Lily sick now.

Her and James Apparated to their front porch with little comment. She let her grip slide from his hand as he pulled her inside, walking, in a strange daze, over to the couch. Only a few hours ago, they had sat there and decided to start a family. Decided to have their son.

At some point, the door opened, and Lily was vaguely aware of Remus and Sirius in the room. She thought Peter might have made a comment about making tea, but she hadn’t heard a thing. Eventually, James sat in the chair across from her, worried expression on his face. He looked nervous to say anything.

Eventually, Lily’s hand fluttered to her stomach. She knew if she didn’t break the silence, no one would.

“Harry,” was what she finally said. She didn’t know quite what she meant by it, but a look of understanding passed over James’s face. His eyes unfocused.

“My dad used to call my uncle Harry. Henry was his name. Dad’s cousin,” James said, a little wistfully. Lily was smiling before he even finished speaking. It was becoming less rare for James to bring up his parents and Lily loved every time he did. She hadn’t been able to know Monty and Effie for long but felt like she knew so much of them through James. And Sirius, of course.

“Charlus’s brother? The one old Dorea married?” Sirius asked, collapsing dramatically on the couch. Sure enough, Peter brought a tray of tea into the room. Lily didn’t quite know who Sirius was talking about and, eager for a distraction, sat forward.

“Who?” she asked, taking a cup of tea in her hands, mostly just for the warmth. Remus took the seat next to her on the couch while Peter settled into the other chair.

Sirius gave a dismissive shrug that Lily recognized from when he spoke about his family. “Great Aunt. Or something like that. Married a Potter and somehow wasn’t blasted off the tree for it. She passed not too long ago I think.”

James nodded. “Two years back. Charlus and Henry were cousins of Dad’s, but they were all close. Charlus was a few years ahead in school but Henry and Dad where in the same year. Same house, too,” James said with a grin. “Drove Uncle Charlie mad. He was a Ravenclaw somehow.”

Lily blinked in surprise. She hadn’t heard James or Monty talk about any of these people. Remus was frowning as well.

“Were you and your uncle Henry close then?” Remus asked, as if trying to make the connection to the Harry they had spent the evening reading about. James’s smile got soft.

“Erm, no,” he admitted. “He was killed in the first war. By Grindelwald himself, is what Dad said,” James continued softly. It was so silent Lily could hear a pin drop. James seemed to realize what he had said after a moment. “Went to Europe to fight when it was all breaking out.” He paused. “Dad and Uncle Charlie used to tell all sorts of stories though. He came over a lot more when I was a child, moved away a while back. To the States.” he added, as if desperate to ensure the conversation didn’t drift towards more morbid topics.

Peter scrambled to fill the silence. “How did he end up marrying a Black, then?” he asked, but a moment later his eyes blew wide. “Not that I – I mean,” he stuttered, but surprisingly all Sirius did was laugh.

“Met in school, I believe. Oh, I’m sure Pollux, the old coot hated it. His own sister,” Sirius mocked with a roll of his eyes. “The horror. But it was a bit different back then. Gindelwald may have preached the same purist shite they spew over here, but most of the old families thought he was far too foreign to support openly. Nevermind most of them came from the continent anyways,” Sirius added bitterly.

Sirius was glaring at nothing in particular now, and Peter had scooted back in his seat, as if wanting to make sure he didn’t do anything to send Sirius over the edge. Remus looked more worried than anything, but James stared at his friend in understanding.

“You want to talk about it mate?” James asked and it was clear to Lily he wasn’t asking about whoever Dorea and Charlus Potter had been. She would have to ask James about it more another time, she knew he loved talking about his family.

Surprisingly, when Sirius looked over, it wasn’t James’s eyes that he met. Or maybe it wasn’t surprising at all. When Lily’s gaze caught Sirius, she understood completely. It had been one of the first real conversations that her and Sirius had, for that strange month in fifth year where Sirius had camped out in the girls’ dormitory in Gryffindor tower, unable to return to his own dorm and unwilling to share why. Mary had found him on the couch one night, a week into his pitiful exile, and brought him upstairs into their room.

Lily hadn’t been quite sure what to do with Sirius Black at first. He was arrogant, obnoxious, and far too full of himself for Lily to want much to do with him. He was charming and pretty, but he knew it and for four years Lily thought him to be not much more than a bully. Unfortunately, when you start to spend more time around a person, you’re forced to confront that they aren’t simply the one-dimensional characteristic you’ve distilled them down to in your mind. And they especially aren’t who they were at eleven. And unfortunately, Lily found she had a lot in common with Sirius.

So, when he met her eyes, blown wide and vulnerable in a way that Lily knew exactly what – or rather who – he was thinking about, she felt her own water immediately. She hadn’t wanted them too. She was rather set on not shedding any more tears on Petunia. She would much rather have let this be about Sirius and his own brother, whatever was going through his mind while Regulus sat with them tonight. But tears spilled out instantly from the corners of Lily’s eyes.

“Evans,” Sirius started, voice seeming a little horrified that she had started crying. Before Lily knew it, she could feel herself pulled into James’s arms, who must have gotten up from his seat and crossed the room.

“It’s going to be alright, Lils,” he whispered. Lily gasped a breath in, trying to get a hold of her breathing.

“Fuck,” she muttered, wiping away any straggling tears and she immediately began shaking her head. “It’s not – it’s not that,” Lily started, glancing up at James. His brow was pinched together as he watched her dry her eyes. Lily glanced up at James, but words died in her throat. Her cheeks felt hot from her outburst.

“I mean, it’s a little bit that,” she admitted into her hands.

“It’s not happening,” Remus said suddenly, forcefully. Lily looked over at her friend. He looked especially tired, the way he might after a particularly bad moon. She knew that Remus rarely spent a full moon with any of them anymore, something she was also acutely aware was a point of tension for Sirius especially. But the full moon had been over a week ago. Remus’s eyes were filled not with exhaustion but with anger.

“Of course not,” James said easily. “That’s what this whole nonsense is about? What Dumbledore said? Changing the future?”

“James,” Sirius rasped, closing his eyes. “I’m going to need you to be serious.” James had the audacity to grin.

“But you’re so good at that,” he said, and Lily actually huffed out a laugh. Sirius turned to her; grey eyes wide.

“You’re laughing?” He looked at Remus. “She’s laughing,” he said. “They’re absolutely mad.”

“You guys,” Peter started, and when Lily looked over, he was staring down at his hands, which were working the edge of his jumper meticulously. His eyes looked wet. “I – “ he trailed off, as if unsure how to continue.

“It’ll be alright, yeah Pete?” James said easily. Peter seemed torn on how to answer. Then after a moment, he offered a thin shaky smile.

Unable to speak, Peter only nodded.

“James,” Sirius started, voice stern. James shook his head quickly.

“Pads,” James answered calmly. “I’m going to need you to trust that I don’t want to orphan my son.” Lily saw Sirius flinch in the corner of her eyes before they watered.

“I’m sorry,” Lily choked out before she could stop herself. She was dangerously close to crying again, rapid blinking the only thing holding her tears at bay.

“Lils, love. What in Morgana's name are you apologizing for?” James asked. Lily opened her mouth but again, words failed her.

She didn’t know how to explain it. This pressure on her chest making it hard to breath. Growing tighter every time she thought about what her son had gone through. Would go through? Might go through? Sure, they could swear it would never happen, that didn’t stop the fact that it might have. That it still might. That there was some possibility that her sister would turn into someone entirely unrecognizable. Maybe she already had. Was there anything left of the girl who taught Lily how to braid her hair? Who poked her finger with a needle until it bled, trying to sew in extra paneling to Lily’s favorite dress? Who dumped juice on the boy in school when he made her younger sister cry? Lily didn’t know that woman they read about in the book today, and now she was scared that she never actually knew Petunia either.

“It’s not your fault, Lily,” Sirius said quietly and when Lily looked up at his, she knew he understood. It was, of course, the first real conversation they had. When he had camped on the floor of the girls’ dorm. Lily had been writing letters home, Sirius had been avoiding the common areas. And he’d told her, of the letters he’d sent back, to his brother, their first and second year. It was complicated and messy, the way Sirius talked about his brother and it was impossible trying to explain this to someone without siblings of their own. She couldn’t imagine what Sirius was going through, sitting in the Hog’s Head, with Regulus only a few feet from him. Sometimes, having hope hurt just as much as losing it, though.

“I think I hate her,” Lily whispered, and it felt like betrayal. Sirius’s eyes were sad as he heaved a sigh and Lily allowed herself to be pulled into James’s arms again. No tears came this time so, but Lily took a deep breath in, forcing herself to believe her words.

The five of them stayed like that for a while, piled onto their couch in a small cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Eventually, Remus and Sirius had to leave, back to their own flat far closer to the city. Peter was staying with his mother out near Kent, and she would likely be worried if he stayed any longer. They hugged goodbye like they weren’t see each other the following morning.

Eventually Lily tugged James up to their bedroom and the pair got ready for the night. Tomorrow loomed in front of both of them and Lily found herself both dreading and desperate for the readings.

Every once in a while, while they were milling about the bedroom, James would pause, entirely unprompted, and stare, eyes unfocused, off into the distance. Part of her wanted to ask him what he was thinking in those moments, but Lily just let them be, waiting until they passed, and then slipping her hand into his and giving it a small squeeze. Eventually she finally pulled him into bed, and he gave a quick flick of his wand to turn off the lights, and then he pulled her into his arms.

The streets outside the window were quiet, and snow had settled onto the ground outside their home. Small paw prints from a stray cat that roamed their neighborhood was the only thing disturbing the white blanket.

The last coherent thought that Lily had was that this will be a wonderful place to raise a family.

Chapter Text

Remus Lupin barely got any sleep that night.

The journey home from the Hog’s Head had been a strange one. Last night at Lily and James’s, where they had gathered more from instinct than anything else, has left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Remus’s stomach.

James and Lily. Dead.

Remus could hardly let himself think it. No one really seemed willing to bring it up. Not at the Hog’s Head, when it was first revealed, nor last night, after the readings had finished. And Lily and James weren’t the only ones. Marlene. Frank and Alice. Even those Remus didn’t know as well, like the Prewetts and the Bones. Each of them had accepted Remus with little or no question. They’d become people that Remus would consider friends.

It was like James was set on resolutely believing that it would never happen. That it could never happen. And Remus couldn’t help but wonder if it was that mindset that had gotten him killed in the first place.

The night ended awkwardly, and Sirius and Remus left back to their own flat. Their argument that afternoon a million years away. Remus knew that he was wearing his welcome, knew how tenuous his friendships had become since leaving as an envoy for the werewolves months back. He couldn’t tell his friends where he disappeared to, or why he never spent full moons in England anymore. And his friends, just as astute at twenty as they were at twelve, were all too aware of the dates in which Remus fled the city.

Last night, Sirius had asked if Remus wanted a nightcap and Remus had almost said yes. Sirius hadn’t said a word about his brother all evening and Remus knew that, despite the somewhat positive interactions the two had at the bar, it was eating Sirius up. But he’d said no. He’d gone to his room and quietly shut the door. He heard Sirius’s door close not long after.

The next morning, Sirius was still in a somber mood. He’d woken up late, only a quarter until ten, snapping that he couldn’t find his shirt, which he’d left in a crumpled heap at the foot of his bed. They arrived at the Hog’s Head only minutes before ten, the last ones to enter.

They would have been the second to last ones, but Caradoc filled James in as Remus and Sirius slid into seats next to him.

“Elphias is staying at home today. Might come back tomorrow, but he wasn’t feeling well,” Caradoc explained. James nodded sympathetically. Ever since his parents had passed earlier in the year, James had been sensitive to the illness of others.

“Tell him I hope he feels better,” James said, nodding as Caradoc left to take his own seat.

“Sleep well?” Peter asked and Remus could feel Sirius bristle beside him. Peter didn’t mean anything by the question, but Remus knew that Sirius was on a hair trigger today.

“Just fine, Pete,” Remus cut in before Sirius could say anything. “How about yourself?”

Peter nodded, eyes a little distant. “Oh yeah. Good, good.”

Neither called out the other on what were both obvious lies. Peter had bags under his own eyes and his hair was slightly messy. Peter used to be a constant in their group, unruffled. But lately, everything about the war seemed to be hitting him harder. Remus was worried about him. Next to him, Sirius seemed to relax a little as he took in Peter’s appearance, probably recognizing the other boy was having just as a hard a time dealing with this all.

“Slept like shit, myself,” Sirius offered with a tired smile, his own way of apologizing. Peter gave him a timid smile. “Had to turn into Padfoot before I could get more than an hour.”

James snorted and Peter’s smile finally grew. “I wish Wormtail was a better sleeper,” he said wistfully. “My whiskers always tickle me awake.”

Remus joined in the other’s laughter, heart clenching a little as it died off. He couldn’t imagine a future without any of them, much less a future without all of them. Sirius’s own eyes went a little distant as he seemed to be having the same sentiment as Remus.

“I don’t get it,” Sirius said, eyes staring at the front of the room where Pandora Lovegood gripped the small book they had been reading. She was talking to her sister in quiet tones.

“Don’t get what, Padfoot?” James asked, voice soft. Sirius had said something similar last night, but he hadn’t elaborated. Apparently, he was ready to do so now.

“Where are we?” he asked. “Where am I?” His gaze flickered back to James now. Remus’s heart sank. He knew was Sirius meant. Why had Harry gone to Lily’s sister? Sure, Sirius wasn’t blood, but he was James’s brother in every way that mattered. He’d been mentioned at the start of the story, Remus reminded himself. Even if none of them could take him in, surely, they would still be a part of Harry’s life? Surely Harry would know them?

No one seemed to know how to respond, sitting in silence until Dumbledore cleared his throat at the top of the room.

“Aberforth has tea and pastries if anyone is hungry,” he said kindly. A few people had tea already on their table, but no one else moved to grab some. It was bizarre, to sit around, drinking tea, reading about the future, Remus thought a little hysterically. Dumbledore only smiled.

“Alright then, I can start the reading today. Miss Lovegood?” He asked and Pandora passed him the book. Pandora sat with Regulus, Snape and Trelawney at a table on the side, which had to be the most bizarre group of people, leaving Dumbledore at a table in the front with McGonagall, Edgar, and Caradoc.

Emmeline sat with the Marlene and Dorcas this time and Frank and Alice joined them at a large table by the bar. The Prewetts were sitting with Alastor Moody, a strange group if one didn’t know that Moody had been the twin’s mentor in the Auror program. The trio had grown quite fond of each other through work.

“Chapter Eleven,” Dumbledore began pleasantly, snapping Remus’s attention to the front. “Quidditch.”

“Oh, Godric, yes,” James whispered, and Lily shook her head, concealing a smile.

“As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. … If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the House championship.”

James opened his mouth and Remus slapped his hand across it. He’d spent seven years trapped in a dorm with the other man. He could not take another lecture about Quidditch strategy. He was beginning to having flashbacks to sixth year. Dumbledore continued, seemingly oblivious.

“Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. … ‘Library books are not to be taken outside the school,’ said Snape. ‘Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor.’”

“That rule is meant for taking books home, not just out on the grounds,” Remus snapped before he could stop himself. Snape’s gaze snapped to him, deep hatred in his glare. Remus looked away immediately.

“’He’s just made that rule up,’ Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. … ‘Dunno, but I hope it’s really hurting him,’ said Ron bitterly.”

Snape looked incensed at what Ron said but Remus’s gaze flickered over to Moody, whose own eyes were trained on Snape, narrowed in suspicion. Remus knew that the old Auror was, well, paranoid was an understatement. But his eyes rarely left the boy the entire reading, and if they did, it was only to flicker over to Regulus, who seemed to be nearby.

“The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. … Snape was holding his robes above his knee. ‘GET OUT! OUT!’”

Snape had seemed to flush red as accusatory eyes flashed around him. Before anyone could get a word of edgewise, however, Dumbledore kept reading, like he hadn’t realized the implication of the words.

“Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. … ‘And I’d bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!’”

“Albus,” Moody finally growled when it was clear the Headmaster was not stopping. Dumbledore looked up; blue eyes only curious.

“Yes, Alastor?” he asked.

“You know what this means. Snape is after the Stone,” he barked. Remus’s stomach turned. That seemed to be the only option. A Death Eater wanted the Philosopher’s Stone, which could only mean one thing. Voldemort wanted the Stone.

Of course, Remus knew that it was unlikely the man was dead, but he felt this hopeless sort of despair at the thought. Despite the reassurance from others that this would never come to pass, it was clear that Lily and James had died to get of Voldemort the first time. Had that been for nothing?

“I don’t know that at all, Alastor,” Dumbledore replied evenly. “All I know is that at some point in one future, an eleven-year-old boy thinks that.”

Moody huffed in exasperation, glare turning to Snape in a second. It was clear that Moody disagreed, and Remus couldn’t help but sympathize. It made a sick sort of sense that Snape was after the Stone. Whatever state Voldemort was in, he was clearly too injured to continue his campaign. The Stone would heal him.

“Hermione’s eyes were wide. … ‘We’re going to win. I know it.’”

Remus could feel James nearly vibrating in excitement next to him. He’d only ever seen James this anxious on their own match days, back in Hogwarts. Figures. Send the boy out to duel Death Eaters and he could do it in his sleep. But play a Quidditch match?

“Calm down, dear,” Lily said, shaking herself but with laughter. James looked affronted.

“This is his first game!” He said, voice tight with excitement. “He’s got to be so nervous.”

“He glared at them all as if to say, ‘Or else.’”

“Truly, Irene Wood’s son,” Marlene said wistfully, taking a sip of her tea.

“’Right.’ … Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!’”

James whooped next to him, cheering as if he were in the crowd. He was watching the book intensely as the game was described, as if it were coming to life in front of him.

Sirius sat thoughtfully next to him. “I wonder if we could rig up some charms on the old Match-vision so we could see the game for real.” James’s shining eyes turned on his friend immediately.

“Padfoot, mate. You are a genius.”

Lily sat forward, seeming interested. “What do you mean see the game for real?”

James turned to her excitedly. “Match-visions are small replicas of Quidditch fields. You can enchant to pieces to do what the commentator describes, since most wizards can only listen to the games over radio. It’s like a miniature model of the game. I bet we could get it to respond to the book’s descriptions.”

“A simple homoculus charm, probably.” The suggestion came from Regulus, who had a thoughtful look on his face in the front. Before any of them could plan more, Dumbledore continued reading.

“Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. … Harry saw it. … WHAM! … ‘Foul’ screamed the Gryffindor’s.”

“That’s blocking!” James yelled, nearly getting up from his seat.

“And right when he saw the snitch!” Marlene said angrily. Only about half the room seemed engaged in the match.

“Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. … He’d never felt anything like that. … - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control.”

“What is happening?” Lily asked, stress evident in her voice. The room had calmed some and James had his brows knit in confusion.

“It sounds like his broom might be jinxed,” James said, perplexed.

“He couldn’t turn it. … ‘Snape – look.’”

At his name again, Snape tensed, and James glared at the other boy.

“Really?” James asked, voice hard. It was the first time he’d truly acknowledged Snape this entire time and the other boy only glared back, chin lifted high.

“Ron grabbed the binoculars. … Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape’s robes.”

Sirius and James laughed quietly at Hermione’s solution, but Remus’s gaze turned toward Lily. Her green eyes were filled with tears as she kept her gaze downward. He reached over and gave her hand a soft squeeze. Despite his own feelings toward Snape, he knew it was hurting her to hear about him being cruel to her child. And jinxing a broom? If it was James, Remus would have believed it. But Harry was a child. Snape was an adult now. Was this all over some petty schoolyard grudge?

“It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize he was on fire. … Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.”

“Thank Merlin,” Marlene said. The tension in the room seemed to relax as Harry was removed from danger.

“’Neville, you can look!’ … ‘Why would Snape do something like that?’”

“Yes, why would Snape do something like that?” Lily asked suddenly, voice sharp. Her eyes still held tears, but she was now glaring at Snape, gaze fierce. Snape had the decency to look slightly ashamed, although not nearly enough in Remus’s opinion. Snape opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Lily crossed her arms protectively around her stomach, huffing back into her seat. No one seemed to know what to say.

“Harry, Ron, and Hermoine looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. … ‘How do you know about Fluffy?’”

“Fluffy?” Emmeline repeated aghast.

“Fluffy? … ‘Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”

“I don’t get it. How is he not a suspect again?” Marlene asked derisively, glaring at Snape.

“No one but the kids saw him on the third floor. Or his wounds,” Dorcas tried reasonably. Marlene narrowed her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Marlene said harshly. “They should know about his arm.”

Snape reached over reflexively to grip him left forearm, enough confirmation for everyone in the room. He sat rigidly in his seat, as if scared someone would try to yank up his sleeve.

“’So why did he just try and kill Harry?’ … Hagrid looked furious with himself.” Dumbledore finished reading pleasantly, as if oblivious to the tension permeating the room. “Professor McGonagall?” he asked, holding out the book for her. McGonagall seemed to take a moment to process what he said. Finally, she reached out and grabbed the book.

“Yes, yes, of course,” she said, opening it before anyone else could get the chance to disrupt again. “Chapter Twelve, The Mirror of Erised.”

Chapter Text

“Christmas was coming.” McGonagall started quickly, nearly as soon as the book was in her hands. In Emmeline Vance’s humble opinion, that was probably for the best. The room felt like a bubbling cauldron – one wrong move and it would careen into an explosion. “One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. … ‘I do feel sorry,’ said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all those people who have stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.’”

“Hogwarts is lovely at Christmas,” Sirius shot back, like the little boy in the book could hear him. Emmeline smiled fondly. Sixth year, a group of them: herself, James, Sirius, Lily and Marlene, stayed back at Hogwarts. The castle was near empty, Gryffindor dorms even more so. It was one of Emmeline’s favorite memories. And about the time she grew close to the group who called themselves the Marauders.

She’d never been the best at making friends. Her father had put her in Muggle school when she was young. He’d claimed it was because he couldn’t afford a tutor for foundational subjects before Hogwarts, but Emmeline had long suspected it was because he was worried about her socializing with her peers. Emmeline was a quiet toddler and she’d grown into a quiet child. Her dormmates at Hogwarts were nice, but she never felt particularly close to them.

“He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. … ‘The library? Said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. ‘Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?’ … ‘Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we’ve been trying to find out who he is.’”

“How do they not know?” Gideon asked, slightly exasperated. Emmeline chuckled while his brother gave him a strange look.

“How on earth would they know?” Fabian asked.

“The chocolate cards,” Emmeline explained, shaking her head. “In the beginning. They had Flamel’s name on it.”

Fabian’s face scrunched up in confusion and he shook his head. “Even I forgot that, and it was yesterday for me.”

“’You what?’ … ‘You better get out, then. Go on – out!’”

Emmeline chuckled to herself, much to most of the room’s horror. “Pince loves scaring the first years,” she explained. “She’s actually very sweet.”

Emmeline knew the older woman had somewhat of a soft spot for her old house, and she’d regarded the Library as something of a second home, especially when her dorm got far too loud, and she’d needed a refuge to escape to.

“Pince?” Marlene repeated, as if Emmeline had just told her Voldemort was actually a really nice guy.

“Wishing he’d been quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. … ‘Very safe, as they’re both dentists,’ said Hermoine.”

“What’s a dentist?” Sirius asked curiously, looking toward Remus.

“Like a Healer, but they only specialize in teeth. They clean teeth for Muggles,” he explained with patience that Emmeline admired. Sirius face scrunched in confusion.

“What, Muggles don’t brush their teeth?” he asked and Lily stifled laughter in her hand.

“No, they do,” Remus said, backtracking. “They also fix teeth that have been messed up or whiten them or straighten them.”

Sirius opened his mouth, looking like he was going to ask more, by McGonagall cut him off.

“Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. … On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all.”

Lily looked away furiously at the reminder of how her sister was treating her son. Emmeline felt her own anger boiling in her chest. It wasn’t fair. Lily and James having to sit here and listen to this. It was beyond unfair. It was cruel.

“When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed. … ‘I’ve got some presents!’ … It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid.”

“Bless Hagrid,” Lily said, eyes brimming with tears. She seemed extra emotional today and Emmeline could hardly blame her, given the circumstances.

“Inside what a roughly cut wooden flute. … Taped to the note was a fifty pence piece. ‘That’s friendly,’ said Harry.”

Lily’s indignant squawk indicated that she did not agree, and James glared off into the distance.

“Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence. ‘I told her you didn’t expect any presents and – oh no,’ he groaned, ‘she made you a Weasley sweater.’”

At that, Gideon chuckled good naturedly and Fabian shook his head in horror. “I suppose us hoping she grows out of the tradition was a fool’s errand,” he said with a grin.

Emmeline smiled fondly. She didn’t know Molly very well, having only met the woman twice, but she’d grown close to the twins since joining the Order. They were everything she’d always fought against. Ostentatious, audacious, loquacious, Fabian had claimed once and Emmeline couldn’t help but agree. But she'd still gravitated toward them almost immediately, drawn in with sly smiles and logic puzzles. Maybe it was because they knew when to be quiet, understood moderation in a way no one else seemed to. Maybe Emmeline’s dad was correct, and it was simply her making progress. Branching out. Coming into herself. However he wanted to phrase it.

“Thank you,” Lily said, voice thick again as she looked at the brothers. Gideon offered her a kind smile.

“Of course.”

“Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. … Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.”

In the room, James followed suit, eyes alight with recognition.

“The cloak!” he exclaimed excitedly. Remus, Peter and Sirius all looked equally enthusiastic, but there were confused glances everywhere else around the room. Or – not quite everywhere. Dumbledore’s sharp gaze was locked on the book.

“What cloak?” Marlene asked, taking in the slight shaking of Lily’s head and the smile on her face.

James waved his hands dramatically at the book, urging McGonagall to continue.

“’I’ve heard of those,’ he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he’d gotten from Hermoine. … ‘It’s an Invisibility Cloak.’”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dorcas said loudly, rolling her eyes. The room seemed to be in a similar state of disbelief.

“You’ve got an invisibility cloak?” Edgar asked, leaning forward with academic interest that Emmeline shared. She’d never seen an authentic one, though she and Gideon had once spent the better part of a drunken afternoon charming a Muggle throw until it was substantially transparent.

James looked proud. “Not just any,” he said. “That thing has been in my family for generations.”

“Surely not!” Benjy said. “Those things usually wear out in a few years. Extremely expensive as well.”

Caradoc frowned. “It’s true,” he said thoughtfully. “Monty had one back at Hogwarts as well. I’ve seen him disappear under it countless times.”

James’s eyes lit up at the mention of his father, growing misty. “Gave it to me on my first day,” he said, voice a little thick. “Told me to use it wisely.”

Lily snorted. “Which I’m sure you promptly disregarded.”

James grinned at her. “I was smart about using it.” Lily laughed.

“That’s not the same thing, love.”

“This explains, an awful lot, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall interrupted with a frown on her face. It would have been convincing if not for the humor crinkling around her eyes. James gave her a sheepish smile. With a small shake of her head, she continued reading.

“’I’m sure it is – try it on.’ … Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.”

James furrowed his eyebrow at the note, seeming to wonder who on earth he would have left the cloak with. The other Marauders looked similarly thoughtful and Emmeline got the distinct impression if they were wondering if it was one of them. They seemed to be the only others who knew of the cloak’s existence. Her gaze wandered back to the front of the room. Or maybe …

“There was no signature. … It had been Harry’s best Christmas day ever. His father’s … this had been his father’s. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air.”

James looked at the book sadly, like it was setting in how much the cloak meant to Harry because James wasn’t there. Emmeline had been raised by her father, her mother dying when she was young. She knew how much something like that must mean to Harry.

“Use it well. … The Restricted Section in the library.”

Remus snorted. “There’s Lily,” he said fondly, and Lily gave him a slight shove, blushing. It was truly amazing, how similar Harry was to James and Lily, despite not growing up with them. Part of Emmeline wanted to brush it off as confirmation bias, perhaps they were all searching for these traits. But she thought of her dad. In those moments when he would watch her and suddenly, inexplicably, get sad. And she thought it could be something more.

“He’d be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. … There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oy tube cafru tyo on wohsi.” McGonagall struggled to pronounce the strange words. Suddenly, Edgar sat forward.

“That’s not supposed to be there,” he said, very seriously. His gaze shot to Dumbledore. The old man could offer no explanation though.

“What is it?” Emmeline asked, curiosity getting the best of her. Edgar looked at her nervously.

“I’m not technically supposed to say. But, well, I suppose it’s likely to be explained anyway. It’s the Mirror of Erised. Or Desire. No one knows who enchanted it but legends of the mirror date all the way back to Ancient Greece. It shows a person what they want most.” Edgar said nervously.

Emmeline frowned.

“Brilliant,” Peter said, eyes a little wide but Edgar was shaking his head.

“Not really. It’s known to drive people mad.”

“Brilliant,” Lily said, much more derision in her tone. She chewed her lip nervously.

“His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved neared to the mirror, want to look at himself but see no reflection again. … There he was, reflected in it, which and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. … She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes – her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought – “

Lily let out a choked sob as everyone realized what Harry was seeing. Emmeline’s heart sank as James wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close. His family. He was seeing his family.

“Bright green – exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; … The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. … ‘Dad?’”

“This is fucked up,” Sirius said, gritting his teeth. Emmeline agreed. What he wanted most. That was what Edgar said. She stared at her friends sadly. Was this truly their future?

No. Never.

“They just looked at him, smiling. … ‘I’ll come back, and hurried from the room.”

“He shouldn’t,” Edgar muttered worriedly. Lily put her head in her hands and James rubbed circles in her back. Emmeline wondered what she would do, if she had the chance to see her mother, next to her. She had photographs, of course. A few in pictures around the house. One of her mother, holding her as a child, baby-Emmeline yanking uncoordinatedly on a long stand of her mother’s dark plaited her. She has no memory of it.

She thought, if she had the chance, she would probably be doing exactly the same as Harry.

“’You could have woken me up,’ said Ron, crossly. … ‘See?’ Harry whispered. … ‘I’m Quidditch captain too!’”

Gideon sighed sadly, as if he realized just what Ron was seeing, what the boy truly wanted.

“Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry. … ‘I’m serious, Harry, don’t go.’ … ‘I – I didn’t see you, sir.’”

Emmeline could hear Lily’s sigh of relief realizing that Dumbledore was now there, seeming confident he would stop Harry from visiting the mirror. Emmeline hated that she shifted suspiciously at it.

“’Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you,’ … But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.” McGonagall looked up as she finished reading. Emmeline looked curiously at her old Headmaster, who now looked rather amused at his answer in the books.

As much as she trusted Dumbledore, a feeling of unease had started to grow in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it started all the way back at the beginning of this mad business, allowing two Death Eaters to see all of their faces, detained or not. There was fear that the Ministry wouldn't be able to hold onto Azkaban indefinitely, and if Snape ever got back to his Master, that was all their lives he was playing with. But maybe it was more recent. Emmeline wanted to demand an explanation for his actions in the book, for the Stone being hidden in the castle, for the mirror, for Snape. She thought of the strange light in his eyes and it was getting harder to convince herself that he didn't know anything about his future decisions and actions.

“Any volunteers?” McGonagall asked suddenly, jarring Emmeline from her thoughts. Her old professor scanned the room with a sharp gaze that made Emmeline want to stick her hand in the air and give an answer.

Luckily, she was saved with Moody gruffly stating, “me,” and taking the book from McGonagall’s hands.

“Chapter Thirteen,” the Auror read. “Nicolas Flamel.”

Chapter Text

Fabian Prewett was still having a tough time wrapping his head around the concept of a book from the future. Or maybe it was only about the future. He needed Gideon to explain this to him again.

It was fun, in a sense, to read about his future nephews. And some of his present nephews, just in the future. Again, headache. But that joy was muted, clouded by what the book said was the cost of this war. He couldn’t stop glancing at his brother, as if to check that Gideon was still at his side. He couldn’t imagine a world where he wasn’t.

“Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. … ‘Snape’s refereeing this time, and he’ll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor.’”

“Snape?” Marlene screeched. “Are they joking? How on earth is that fair?”

Dorcas lay a calming hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Remember, they don’t know about the jinxing.” Marlene shook her off.

“I mean, yes that too. But he’s the Head of Slytherin House! How on earth can they think he would be impartial!”

“And Rolanda Hooch is a Hufflepuff,” Regulus cut into Fabian’s surprise. “I’ve never seen her call a game anything but fair.”

Marlene glared at the younger boy. Fabian was honestly surprised he had spoken up. He hadn’t gotten the impression that he and Snape were close during school. Of course, if they were both Death Eaters, Fabian supposed that must have been … a bonding experience.

“That’s different,” she said.

“Why because he’s a Slytherin?” Regulus spoke calmly but his body was rigid. Marlene’s glare only intensified.

“Because he’s Snape,” she said. Regulus’s eyes locked on her and then flickered over to Dorcas for a moment. Something passed between the two, Fabian was sure of it, though he had no idea how Dorcas knew Sirius’s younger brother, she was never close with anyone in her house. But the look seemed to make Regulus decide something then and he only nodded quietly in response.

“George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words. … He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower. … ‘Malfoy,’ said Neville shakily.”

Alice had some noise of frustration as the description of her son being cursed and Fabian locked his teeth together. He’d hoped, in the years since Voldemort, that Hogwarts might have gotten better, without the war just beyond the walls. It some ways, it seemed like it had. But in others, it felt no different at all.

“’I met him outside the library.’ … He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry. … ‘You’re worth twelve of Malfoy’ … ‘In stinking Slytherin.’”

Alice looked gratefully at Lily who was smiling to herself at her son’s actions, but Fabian saw Dorcas dip her head at the words. He sighed to himself. Truly, not much had changed at all. He glanced over to see Regulus Black, who was also looking at Dorcas concerningly. Fabian furrowed his eyebrow.

Fabian knew just how important Houses felt when he was a child. He’d cried that first night in Gryffindor tower, the first time since he’d been born that he’d slept in a different room than Gideon. He’d been devastated, sure that the Sorting had ruined his life, taken his brother. The Prewetts were not a family known for a certain house, his Uncle Ignatius had been a Ravenclaw, his Great Aunt Claudia, a Hufflepuff. But both his parents had been Gryffindors and for some reason, growing up, it have never even occurred to him that he and Gideon might be different.

But, being sorted into Gryffindor had given Fabian his own room to grow, into his own person. And the blue tie around Gideon's neck had never felt out of place. And yet, Fabian still sometimes questioned the wisdom of placing children in Houses before they’d spent even a night in the castle. Eleven was so young. Godric, eighteen was young.

“Neville’s lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog. … ‘I’ve found him!’”

“Finally,” Gideon muttered under his breath.

“I’ve found Flamel! … It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.’”

It was only because Fabian was already looking at Regulus Black that he saw the boy go slightly tense at the words, gaze homing in on the book like it held all the answers. Fabian replayed back the words in his head, his stomach giving a sudden jolt at the implication.

“Oh Godric. That’s what he’s after,” he said aloud, and the entire room’s gaze shifted to him. “Voldemort. He wants to be immortal.”

Horror seemed to bloom on many of the room’s faces as they realized that the stone could be used for far more than powerful healing potions. An immortal Dark Lord … Fabian didn't even want to entertain the thought.

Fabian noticed Regulus’s gaze flicker downward.

"Is that truly possible?" Emmeline asked, dark eyes wide. Gideon nodded next to her sadly.

"Flamel's claimed to have been using his Stone for over six hundred years," Caradoc explained thoughtfully, leaning forward. Emmeline shook her head.

"But wouldn't that violate Maximus's Three Laws of Beginnings and Ends?" Emmeline wondered and she lost Fabian completely. Next to her, Gideon smiled, almost proud.

"Not necessarily," Gideon started. "Flamel would probably argue the laws were no more than bent, not broken."

"I'm sorry, the three laws of what?" Marlene asked, rubbing her temples.

"Beginnings and Ends," Emmeline explained quickly. "Everything created can be destroyed. Everything born must die. Everything summoned can be banished." She listed them off on her fingers.

"Flamel would argue that the second law should just be 'Everything born can die.'" Caradoc explained. "Maximus disagreed. Thought that extending one's life was just as immoral as shortening another. The pair fell out sometime in the fifteenth century."

Fabian gave up trying to keep up with the conversation. He'd never taken Ancient Magic or Alchemy at Hogwarts, much less decided to pick up a book on either subject just for the fun of it in the library. He left that to his brother, who looked ready to bring out a reading list for the morality of immortality right then and there.

“Let’s keep reading,” Fabian interjected quickly.

“There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, … ‘I’m going to play,’ he told Ron and Hermoine. … ‘Even – blimey – Dumbledore’s come out to watch!’”

James glanced over at Dumbledore in surprise, who was still only smiling faintly at the book. He seemed amused, more than anything, at his mention.

Lily let out a breath. “He’ll be fine then,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Harry’s heart did a somersault. … The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.”

“Merlin!” James exclaimed excitedly, grabbing Lily’s arm and shaking it. “Our son is the best Seeker in the world!”

Lily only laughed.

“James, you owe Leanna Garley an apology,” Marlene said. Fabian recognized the current Arrows Seeker, probably the best in Europe. She’d dragged a poor English team to the quarterfinals of World Cup the year prior. “But that was fantastic,” she conceded with a grin.

“’Ron!’ … A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. … He followed. ‘… d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus …’ … ‘Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?’”

The room went still with confirmation that Snape was trying to steal the stone. Moody’s eyes, which had only left the Death Eater since beginning to read, turned back on him with a glare.

“Of course,” Sirius muttered darkly, staring at Snape with challenge in his eyes. Before either of them could say more, Dumbledore held up a hand.

“Let us keep reading,” the old man said.

“Are you serious?” Sirius asked, outraged, looking at Dumbledore with a hint of betrayal. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the boy and Regulus Black snorted.

Sirius seemed slightly thrown, as if just realizing his words. Next to him, James chuckled quietly, looking moments away from making the obligatory joke: "no mate, you are."

Fabian thought that if he did, Sirius head might just explode. Instead, Sirius sighed and leaned back in his seat, waving for Moody to continue.

“’B-b-but Severus, I – ‘ … ‘So you mean the Stone’s only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?’ … ‘It’ll be gone by next Tuesday,’ said Ron.” Moody glanced up when he finished, eyes finding Snape once again.

Fabian looked at his brother. He didn’t remember much about Quirrell from school himself, being both different years and different houses, but Gideon said he knew him …

Gideon’s face twisted and Fabian instantly knew that Ron was right. There wasn’t a niffler’s chance in a grease shop.

“Who’s next?” Moody asked and Fabian sighed.

“I’ll take it,” he said, standing to get the book from Moody. It felt light in his hands as he opened it to the correct page. He took a breath, glancing down at the words. Suddenly he smiled, looking to Gideon

“Chapter Fourteen. Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback.” He read.

Chapter Text

James was feeling a whiplash of emotions throughout the story. Harry seemed determine to give him a heart attack before ever being born, which James was coming to realize was likely only karma from he put his own parents through in his childhood. And somewhat into adulthood.

“Pretty common, all things considered,” Emmeline was musing thoughtfully.

“Common?” Gideon echoed. “I don’t give a bloody damn if it’s a Common Green Welsh. It’s a dragon!” he said excitedly. Emmeline rolled her eyes in good humor, determined it seemed, to not be impressed.

“Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they’d thought.” Fabian started, shutting up his brother. “In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn’t look as though he’d cracked yet. … ‘And we know what that dog’s guarding, it’s the Philosopher’s St – ‘ … ‘So what on earth’s Hagrid up to?’ asked Hermoine.”

“You don’t think,” stared Gideon.

“Oh, I think,” Fabian replied with a grin before turning back to the book. Fabian and Gideon spoke sometimes like they were the same person, spread out across two bodies.

“When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper’s hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. … ‘Oh yeah, Professor Snape.’ … ‘Well that’s something,’ Harry muttered to the others.”

James felt his anxiety climb. There was no way Snape wasn’t after the Stone, and for some unknown reason, maybe even the same deluded reason that had Dumbledore vouching for his loyalty even now, Dumbledore trusted him. Enough to employ him. Enough to let him help secure the Stone. It was baffling. And if all the rested between Voldemort and the Stone was Quirrell’s spine, Snape’s loyalty, and Hagrid’s silence, well, the Stone was as good as gone. James loved Hagrid, but that man couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.

“’Hagrid can we have a window open?’ … In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.” Fabian looked up. “Wicked,” he breathed. “’Ah,’ said Hagrid, fiddling with his beard, ‘that’s -er…’ … ‘Hagrid you live in a wooden house,’ she said. … ‘Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!’”

“Hagrid is absolutely mad,” Emmeline said seriously. The room seemed divided between amazed and horrified. James couldn’t help but grin.

It was easy to see sometimes how Hagrid was sorted into Gryffindor.

“’Hagrid,’ said Hermoine, ‘how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow exactly?’”

James could feel Lily burrow into his side.

“Oh, this is going to be an absolute disaster, I can feel it,” she said into his shoulder. James shook with laughter.

“Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face – he leapt to his feet and ran out the window. … Malfoy had seen the dragon.”

“Not quite the disaster I was expecting,” Sirius said, sounding a little bitter. James glanced over at his friend, seeing the tension he held in his face. James needed to talk to him, maybe later today. Perhaps they could take a break when they had finished this book. He had no idea how long a group of wizards would sit quietly in a bar, but given their Hogwarts record, he wasn’t expecting it to be extremely long.

James knew Sirius wasn’t handling any of this very well. James’s death. His brother. Honestly James wasn’t sure which was weighing on him most. Sirius and Regulus had always had a tenuous relationship. James hadn’t been privy to the early years of it, and somewhere along the way, it had rotted before James could every really learn more. Sirius didn’t talk about it. At least with James. Maybe he told Remus more.

James reached out gave Sirius a small nudge, smiling softly when the other man looked over. Sirius stared at him for a second and then all the tension drained from his body at once. He returned James’s smile tiredly.

“Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy’s face during the next week made Harry, Ron, and Hermoine very nervous. … ‘Charlie,’ he said. … ‘Brilliant!’ said Ron.”

“That’s actually not a half bad idea,” Remus mused, seeming surprised. James shot him a mock glare.

“My child is smart,” James said defensively.

“Lily’s child is smart,” Remus teased.

“’How about it, Hagrid?’ … By the next morning, Ron’s bitten hand had grown twice its usual size. … ‘Bye-bye, Norbert!’ … ‘Harry Potter’s coming – he’s got a dragon!’”

James chuckled as he pictured a miniature Lucius Malfoy arguing such a thing to McGonagall while Harry hid beneath the cloak. Served the boy right, for trying to get them all in trouble.

“’What utter rubbish!’ … They’d left the Invisibility Cloak on top of the tower.” Fabian finished. James groaned into his hands.

“Oh, rookie mistake, Harry,” he said.

He saw the worried gazes of his friends as they wondered if Harry would ever get the cloak back.

“Oh, I hope it isn’t lost forever,” Peter said nervously, glancing at James in horror. The amount of times the four of them had hid under the cloak, even when it couldn’t cover them all at once. James chewed his lip nervously.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be back,” Pandora Lovegood said wistfully at the front of the room. James hadn’t given the other girl much thought, but she was leaned into Regulus’s side. Her eyes sometimes had the same fractured look as her sister, as if they were fixed on something no one else could see. “The things we lose always have a way of coming back to us, don’t you think?” she asked.

James stared at her, slightly thrown. He hadn’t spoken much to the Ravenclaw, honestly, her slightly unfocused eyes unnerved him a bit. But he couldn’t help smiling at her words. They reminded him of something his mother had told him. The things we miss the most are never lost. Regulus was looking at Pandora quite fondly as well, which was just about the strangest sight James had ever seen.

“I guess they do,” James said quietly, turning the words over in his head. He thought Pandora’s words could relate to far more than just the cloak.

“I can read,” Benjy offered. Fabian gave him the book as everyone prepared themselves for the next chapter. That one had been surprisingly short.

“Chapter Fifteen. The Forbidden Forest.” Benjy began, tone cheerful. “Things couldn’t have been worse.”

James groaned. That was not a great start.

“Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. … ‘Explain yourselves.’”

James winced. He could nearly hear McGonagall’s tone. She’d directed it at him enough times over the years. He glanced over at his former Head of House now and saw her familiar brown eyes trained on him. He gave her a cheeky grin. Clearly, she had been thinking similarly.

“It was the first time Hermoine had ever failed to answer a teacher’s question. … - and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.’”

“Fifty!” Sirius repeated, devastated. “That will demolish their chances in the House Cup!” He complained. McGonagall turned her glare on the other boy.

“They should have thought of that before sneaking out,” she clipped back. Sirius snapped his mouth shut.

“’Fifty?’ … A hundred and fifty points lost. … But even Quidditch had lost its fun.”

“No,” James said, horrified. “Minnie, it’s unconscionable!” he whined. McGonagall only shook her head at his dramatics.

“The rest of the team wouldn’t speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him ‘the Seeker.’”

Dorcas snorted into her hand and James turned on her, betrayed. “Think this is funny, do you?” he asked. Dorcas shrugged helplessly, fighting a smile.

“I mean, it’s a little funny,” she said. “Reminds me of that time you would only refer to Crystal Catchlove as ‘the blond girl.’”

James struggled to keep the smile off his face. “Crystal deserved that.”

Even Marlene laughed this time. “For what? Beating you at Exploding Snaps?”

“Hermoine and Neville were suffering, too.” Benjy tried to continue but James cut in.

“See? Make fun of Alice and Frank’s child,” he said, and Frank shot him a frown.

“I would never,” Dorcas vowed. “Neville’s an angel.”

Alice smiled triumphantly.

“They didn’t have as bad a time as Harry, because they weren’t as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. … ‘No – no – not again, please – ‘ … ‘All right – all right – ‘ he heard Quirrell sob.”

The room came to a still as they realized what they were hearing. A few people shot Snape glares; James included. Snape’s gaze remained on the table in front of him, as if he didn’t even notice.

It was easy enough for James to ignore Snape during these readings, the slimy snake was doing an admirable job of imitating the dusty chair he was cowered in. He knew Lily was having a … considerably harder time. It was still a sensitive subject, Snape. Maybe James would never understand how the other boy could mean so much to her, even if he did understand that he clearly meant something.

“Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban.”

“What’s with the turban?” Gideon cut in. James looked at him frowning.

“He didn’t have him when you knew him at school?” he asked. Gideon shook his head.

“Maybe he picked it up on his travels?” Emmeline suggested hesitantly. No one seemed convinced by this explanation though.

“He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. … ‘Go to Dumbledore.’ … ‘No,’ said Harry flatly, ‘we’ve done enough poking around.’”

James knew he would never do it, but he was secretly glad the trio seemed to settle on Dumbledore for answers. They were far too young to be meddling with stuff like this and James just wished for Harry to stay out of it.

He had a bad feeling settling in his stomach.

“He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons. … ‘Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started.’”

“Oh no,” Sirius muttered. James shared the sentiment. The Marauders had been given detention with Hagrid before and while sometimes it was actually fun, it always bordered somewhere on deadly. James thought it was hopeless to wish for something else with Harry’s luck.

“Harry’s heart rose; … ‘That’s unicorn blood.’”

“What?” Lily learned forward in horror.

“Oh, that’s bad. Really bad,” Remus said darkly. Unicorn blood was never a good sign. It was usually cursed and only needed for dark potions, the kind in the books at the Black family library. Anything that would hurt a unicorn was never good news either. James clenched his teeth. He loved Hagrid, really, but what was the man thinking?

“’There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat.’ … ‘Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?’ Harry asked.”

James felt Remus go tense beside him. Sirius reached out under the table and gave Remus’s hand a soft squeeze in reassurance. Remus didn’t give any indication that he had felt it.

“’Not fast enough,’ said Hagrid. … ‘GET BEHIND THAT TREE!’” James jumped at Hagrid’s sudden shout, leaning forward anxiously, silently begging Benjy to read faster.

“Hagrid seized Harry and Hermoine and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. … Harry and Hermione’s jaws dropped.”

“A centaur,” Lily said, her tone mostly excited now that the danger seemed to have passed. “I’ve always wanted to meet one.

“They’re normally recluse,” Remus agreed, staring at the book in wonder.

“’Oh, it’s you, Ronan.’ Said Hagrid in relief. … ‘Mars is bright tonight.’ … 'Always the innocent are the first victims' … ‘The forest hides many secrets.’”

“So, he’s completely useless,” Sirius muttered. James was liable to agree but Pandora’s gaze turned on him.

“He’s actually giving great information,” she said, voice hard and defensive. James raised his eyebrows. It had sounded like a load of gibberish to him and glancing around the room, it seemed others felt the same. Only Dumbledore had a thoughtful expression on his face. Well, him and one other.

"Mars," Regulus murmured, glancing over at Pandora, worry evident in his eyes. Pandora glanced back, eyes sad. "God of War. That's ominous."

“A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and bodied and wilder-looking that Ronan. … ‘Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!’”

Alice and Frank exchanged worried glances. Anxiety built in the room, smothering the air like a blanket over their heads.

“’You two wait here!’ … It was a unicorn all right, and it was dead. … Then a pain like he’d never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar were on fire.”

James sat ramrod straight at the description, anxiously glancing around as if someone could tell him what was going on. He felt Lily clinging to his arm.

“Half-blinded, he staggered backward. … ‘This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better,’”

“I don’t understand,” Lily finally said, her voice quiet. “How do they know him? Do they know what happened? Why he – why – “ Lily trailed off, as if unsure how to explain what happened. James wasn’t sure either. They only thing he could think about was Dorcas Meadow’s voice yesterday, the killing curse. The shape of Harry’s scar. He had brushed off the description initially, still reeling from the description of his and Lily’s death. But cursed scars were rare, usually the product of Dark Magic or Dark Creatures. A scar of the killing curse meant that not only had it hit, but it had been potent.

“I’m not sure,” Dumbledore said with a frown, looking just as disturbed as Lily that he didn’t know the answer.

“It’s because of the prophecy,” said Sybil Trelawney, perhaps the last person James expect to chime in. Everyone’s eyes went to her immediately. She crossed her arms defensively.

“The prophecy I give. Or gave. Or might give. I’m trying to stop myself from giving it. That’s what this is about.”

That made absolutely no sense to James, but Pandora leaned forward. “It will be explained. We just have to keep reading.”

James was starting to hate that instruction. His heart hammered in his chest.

“’What have you been telling him?’ … ‘If you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?’ … ‘Do you mean,’ Harry croaked, ‘that was Vol – ‘” Benjy took in a sharp breath. The room felt cold.

“That’s impossible,” Lily whispered. “He’s – he should be dead.”

“If these books are about his downfall, he’s obviously not,” growled Moody. James shook his head. He’s been unlucky enough to see Voldemort on three different occasions, and each haunted his dreams nearly every night. Harry was only eleven.

“How did he get on Hogwarts grounds?” Dorcas asked quietly but no one seemed to have an answer for her.

“We should keep reading,” Pandora repeated firmly. James was trying really hard not to hold it against her.

“’Harry!’ … When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his Invisibility Cloak folded neatly underneath them. … Just in case.” Benjy finished.

James took a small bit of solace in the fact that Harry had the cloak again, although he wondered who had given it back to him. Surely not another student. McGonagall? It felt unlikely. She didn’t seem to know of the cloak’s existence. That, of course, only left one option. James eyed Dumbledore. Could the Headmaster have known about the cloak all along? He would have been a Transfiguration Professor, when his father went to school. His dad’s Head of House. Perhaps …

“Who’s next.” Benjy asked, interrupting James’s thoughts.

“I’ll read,” Remus offered next to him, getting up to get the book from Benjy. James forced himself to focus back on the story.

“Chapter Sixteen,” Remus read. “Through the Trapdoor.”

Chapter Text

Pandora Lovegood bit her lip anxiously. She knew far less about the story being read than she was letting on, her only reference being what Sybil screamed out as she awoke from her nightmares. When the nightmares began, about a year prior now, Sybil had been living in a small flat above Knockturn Alley, much to their mother’s dismay. But Billie had always been a free spirit. It was why the past year had been so hard for her, her desperate grip on sanity fraying the edges of her mind. Their mother said it was the family curse. To go mad. Pandora had never believed it. Not until Sybil had come to her, sleepless and delirious, rambling about the strangest things: a cemetery covered in snow; a baby on a doorstep; a severed hand.

Sybil moved in with Pandora and Xeno after a few months. She’d spend July refusing to leave her room. She refused to take a bath the month of August. She’d cried on the floor of their Potions room in September. She wouldn’t touch her wand all of October. But then, November first, Sybil woke up and told Pandora of her plan. A plan bordering so close to madness, Pandora couldn’t help but agree.

The reading was going well so far, or at least as well as Pandora could hope. There was tension wrought within the group and she knew it would only get worse. Hopefully, between herself, Sybil, and Dumbledore, they could keep everyone calm.

It took a lot less to convince her old Headmaster of this whole affair. Sybil had submitted to Legilimency before Pandora finally arrived at Hog’s Head the prior evening, something she’d assured her sister was perfectly fine. Frankly, Pandora was worried any push or pull on Sybil’s mental state might snap what fragile sanity her sister had left.

The only difficult part of the whole affair had been Regulus, and not on the side of Sybil or Pandora. Rather, Dumbledore had been the one significantly apprehensive about the younger boy. And truthfully, Snape had not looked pleased with the plan either. But it was a point neither she nor Sybil would be moved on. If this war were to end, Sybil had been very clear: Pandora’s friend held the key.

She glanced over at Regulus now. He looked horrid. A fact she once would have taken great pleasure of informing him about once upon a time, tucked away in Ravenclaw Tower or in the bowels of the Library. But she hadn’t quite been able to force herself to upon seeing him again. It had been a long year away from him, and letters had become frustratingly sparse. Her friend was hiding something from her, Pandora knew. And she was not sure how she felt about it.

She’d hoped the night before she might have gotten a chance to speak with Regulus privately, but Aberforth seemed determine to keep her separate. She was fairly sure the old barkeep had been wanting to protect her, which was somewhat sweet. But she knew she didn’t need protection from Regulus, however far they drifted in her final year.

“In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. … Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip to the forest.”

Lily made a slightly devastated sound and James wrapped his arm around her. Pandora’s heart bled for the couple. She glanced at her sister worriedly and Sybil was looking at the pain with something close to devastation. Pandora felt a lump in her throat. It was only going to get worse.

“Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn’t sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmares, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it. … ‘Go to Madam Pomfrey,’ Hermoine suggested. … ‘We’ve got to go and see Hagrid, now.’”

James frowned. “Why?” he asked to no one in particular. Remus’s lips twitched.

“’Why?’” he continued. “’Don’t you think it’s a bit odd,’ said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, ‘that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have a dragon egg in his pocket?’”

“Oh no,” James said, eyes darting to the book in horror.

“That’s a bit of a stretch, no?” Emmeline asked nervously. “It could be a coincidence.”

Lily’s eyes were wide with fear now, glancing over at James.

“’How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it’s against wizard law?’ … ‘I can’ remember too well, ‘cause he kept buying me drinks’ … ‘We’ve got to go to Dumbledore,’ said Harry.”

James seemed to release a breath when his son said this, relieved he wasn’t trying to solve this on his own. Pandora glanced at the book nervously. Surely, there would be no need …

“’Hagrid told a stranger hot to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape of Voldemort under that cloak - … Where’s Dumbledore’s office?’”

“Surely he would recognize Snape’s voice,” Benjy said hesitantly.

“And there’s no way Voldemort would have been able to sit in a bar if he still has to drink Unicorn blood to stay alive,” added Emmeline. These were both perfectly logical points. James and Lily only exchanged fearful glances. Everyone looked at Remus, urging him to continue.

“They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. … ‘He’s gone?’ said Harry frantically. ‘Now?’”

“Just tell Minnie,” James was muttering under his breath. Pandora only shook her head. If Dumbledore trusted Snape … Then again, Sybil trusted Snape, she thought, eyes turning to her sister who was watching Remus read nervously. She didn’t seem fearful of the story, however. More so of everyone else’s reaction to it.

“’Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he had many demands on his time – ‘ … ‘I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.’”

McGonagall only looked slightly disappointed but not surprised at her book-self brushing off the danger.

“But they didn’t. … Snape was standing there,”

“Oh, hell no,” Sirius muttered darkly, looking like he was about to jump into the book to defend the three kids. Pandora silently urged Remus to continue the reading.

“’Good afternoon,’ he said smoothly. … ‘I’m going out of here tonight and I’m going to try and get to the Stone first.’”

Lily groaned in frustration. James continued to stare intently at his friend as he read, willing the words to change perhaps.

“’You’re mad!’ … ‘SO WHAT?’ … ‘Voldemort killed my parents, remember?’”

“Oh Harry,” Lily whispered quietly. Remus’s voice had gotten thick during the monologue and he looked up miserably at James. Everyone in the room was quiet, as if suddenly, James and Lily’s deaths had gotten more real.

“Keep going, mate, yeah?” James prompted and Remus looked down at the book, eyes blinking rapidly.

“He glared at them. … Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the Toad, who looked as though he’d been making another bid for freedom.”

“Oh, please no,” whispered Alice. Pandora grimaced. This was going to be so hard.

“’Nothing, Neville, nothing,’ said Harry, … ‘Petrificus Totalus!’ she cried, pointing it at Neville. … ‘Oh Neville, I’m so sorry.’”

Despite Hermione’s apologies, Alice and Frank looked slightly relieved that Neville wasn’t going with them.

“’We had to, Neville, no time to explain,’ said Harry. … Slowly the dog’s growls ceased - … ‘What’s this stuff?’ were his first words. … ‘I know what this is – its Devil’s Snare!’”

Lily drew in a sharp breath. James looked at her worriedly. “It’s okay,” she said, seeming to reassure herself. “Hermione will know what to do.”

“’Oh, I’m so glad we know what it’s called, that’s a great help, … ‘ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?’”

Lily let out a strained chuckled. “Well she knew what to do.”

James laughed lightly as well, mostly out of delirious relief.

“’Oh, right!’ … It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. … ‘They’re keys!’ … ‘We’re looking for a big, old-fashioned one – probably silver, like the handle.’”

“Smart,” muttered Gideon, clearly tense with anxiety. Both the brothers had clearly become invested in the nephew’s wellbeing, occasionally exchanging apprehensive glances at the danger that Ron was in.

“This was almost made for Harry,” James said, reassuringly. “He’ll be able to catch the key.”

“They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, … He pulled the door open. … ‘We’ve got to play our way across the room.’”

“Not wizard chess,” James said anxiously, glancing over at Peter. Peter grimaced. The boy had been a part of the Chess Club at Hogwarts, Pandora remembered suddenly. She recalled seeing him fiddle with boards in the Library, always too shy to play a game with a stranger.

“If they have to sacrifice one of the pieces they’re playing …” Peter trailed off.

“Behind the white pieces they could see another door. … A white pawn moved forward two spaces. … ‘it’s the only way … I’ve got to be taken.’”

Gideon’s mouth was set in a hard line and Fabian stared anxiously at the book.

“It wouldn’t … it wouldn’t kill him. Would it?” he whispered. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath.

“I don’t think so,” McGonagall said quietly from the front of the room. Her thin back was sitting taut in her chair and she was staring at the book nervously. “I think … I think I designed this board. I wouldn’t allow it to kill a child,” she said definitively. That was all Fabian needed to hear to relax, squeezing his brother’s arm.

“’NO!’ … He looked as if he’d been knocked out. … ‘Snape’s,’ said Harry. ‘what do we have to do?’”

The room grew tense again with the mention of Snape and Pandora forced herself to put all her trust in Sybil, glaring at the people who shot looks his way.

“They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. … Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.”

“What the hell?” Sirius asked, looking at Remus in astonishment.

“It’s a riddle,” Lily said excitedly. “Oh, Hermione has this.”

“Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, … ‘That’s hardly one swallow.’ … ‘Harry – you’re a great wizard, you know.’”

Lily’s eyes were shining as she watched the book.

“I love her,” Lily said fondly. James chuckled, tucking her in close.

“She reminds me of someone,” he agreed.

“’I’m not as good as you,’ … There was someone already there – but it wasn’t Snape. It wasn’t even Voldemort.’” Remus looked up. “That’s where it ends,” he said, a little anticlimactically.

“Give it to me,” Sirius said, holding his hand out.

“Padfoot,” Remus warned. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll read next,” he said slowly. Finally, Remus turned the book over to him. Pandora held her breath.

“Chapter Seventeen. The Man with Two Faces."

Chapter Text

Lily was rigid with tension as Sirius began to read, leaning forward toward the book, desperate for the story to continue. She wanted her son out of that room, out of the castle if that’s what it took. Her jaw hurt with how tightly it was clenched.

She knew just how dangerous Hogwarts sometimes could be. Mary McDonald had shared a theory with her one night, the two girls laid out in Gryffindor Tower, taking turns filling the girls’ sixth year dorm fill with musky smoke. They were both Muggleborn, and sometimes it felt like Mary could crack open Lily’s skull and peer into her thoughts because of this.

Mary had said that having magic had restricted the Wizarding world in ways that, to her, as someone who grew up in the Muggle world, were sometimes impossible to understand. They were trapped with quills and torches and arranged marriages, making them oblivious to certain dangers, and accepting of early deaths. It was something Lily had complained about, often enough, though maybe not as seriously as Mary. The flippant way Wizards sometimes referred to serious injury. The fully equipped Hospital Wing necessary in what was supposed only to be a school. The entire sport of Quidditch, Godric help her if James ever heard her say that.

Sirius hesitated before he started reading, brow furrowing in confusion. “It was Quirrell.” He began slowly.

“Quirrell?” Gideon repeated in shock.

“Wait, what?” Emmeline asked next to him, sitting forward in her seat. “I don’t – I don’t understand.”

Lily glanced over at Severus, who was staring at the book in confusion. Severus must have – he must have expected himself to be after the Stone. He wore a familiar frown that Lily was determined not to feel nostalgic about. She used to take pride in confounding Severus, the other boy always seeming to know more about everything than Lily. For so long, he’d been the one she went to with every question she had, and she remembered the thrill of pleasure she would get whenever she asked a stumping question.

“Why would Quirrell – ?” Emmeline trailed off, glancing at Gideon whose eyes were distant. He looked completely befuddled.

Gideon shook his head. “He didn’t – or at least, I never got the impression he was a purist while we were in school.” Anxious energy permeated the room. Lily’s own heart was pounding in her chest, mind unsure of what to make of the words Sirius had just read aloud. Lily didn’t understand what was happening. She didn’t like not understanding what was happening. Perhaps feeling the same, Sirius rushed on to read.

“’You!’ … ‘Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?’ … ‘But Snape tried to kill me!’ … ‘Snape was trying to save me?’” Sirius read the words incredulously, glancing up. Even Snape looked mildly surprised before hiding it behind a blank mask. Lily stared at her former friend, trying to make sense of it all. She was missing something, she knew. Some piece to this puzzle. There was a gaping hole in this story, but she couldn’t make sense of it any more than Harry could.

“’Of course,’ … ‘I’m going to kill you tonight.’ … Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.”

Lily similarly felt the own air punched from her lungs.

“That’s extremely advanced magic,” Edgar Bones muttered unhelpfully. Lily could not find it in herself to be impressed at the moment.

“’You’re too nosy to live, Potter.’ … ‘You let the troll in?’ …It was the Mirror of Erised.”

Lily leaned forward curiously. She heard a soft chuckle from Dumbledore, and she willed herself not the throw her shoe at the old man.

“’This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,’ … For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell’s face. … ‘He is with me wherever I go,’ … ‘Use the boy … Use the boy …’”

Lily let out a shriek. “He’s in the room?” She asked, leaning forward. Harry hadn’t described the room much, but she imagined it something like the bowels in the dungeons. Was he tucked in a corner? She couldn’t imagine Voldemort sulking in a corner …

“Oh, no,” Gideon said miserably. Lily didn’t even have the patience to glance over, not the mental capacity to wonder what Gideon meant. She stared at the book in Sirius’s hand, strung tight with tension.

“Quirrell rounded on Harry. … Somehow – incredibly – he’d gotten the Stone.”

The room was quiet for a bit. Then Moody whistled appreciatively. “Well that’s a nice bit of magic,” he said.

Lily glared at the older man. “Excuse me if I can’t find it in myself to appreciate it,” she snapped back. Moody turned to glare at her.

“Alright, there, love,” James said, patting her shoulder. “Padfoot?” he urged, before Lily could do something completely reasonable like attack the Head Auror.

“’Well?’ … ‘He lies … He lies …’ … ‘Let me speak to him … face-to-face …’”

Lily stared in horror at the book. Voldemort, speaking to her son? She clenched her fist tightly. Bile rose in the back of her throat. It was difficult to continue to tell herself that this wouldn’t happen. To parse through this story and remind herself that it was not real. That the story that this book painted would only remain entirely in their minds forever. That it would never seep out from those pages. She didn’t like this one bit.

“’Master, you are not strong enough!’ … ‘Harry Potter …’ it whispered.”

Silence.

“What the fuck?” Marlene whispered.

“It’s … Voldemort is … on the back of Quirrell’s head?” Remus asked, seeming more confused than anything else.

“H-how?” asked Peter breathlessly.

“He must have lost his body.” At the front of the room, Regulus Black spoke flatly. He stared at the book in his brother’s hands, face emotionless.

Sirius glared at him. “And how would you know that?” he snapped. Regulus’s eyes flickered up; his gaze deadened.

“I’m right am I not?” he asked.

Caradoc leaned forward. “That could be what this is,” he interrupted, not paying the clear tension any mind. “A parasitic ghost of sorts. He clearly needs a body to survive. That’s why it didn’t matter that he was drinking Unicorn blood. It’s Quirinus who would be cursed.” The room seemed to need a moment to take that in.

“I don’t understand, though,” Benjy Fenwick shook his head. “He’s been on the back of this guy’s head for ten years?”

"He's dead, though. A ghost, right?" Peter asked, his voice pitched with fear.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Caradoc shook his head. It was unclear whose question he was answering. Maybe both. “I find it unlikely Quirinius’s body would have been able to withstand that. Unfortunately, I simply don't know.”

“I’m sorry,” Marlene shook her head. “How is that even possible?”

Most in the room seemed mystified. Caradoc had a curious look on his face, Dumbledore a thoughtful one. Regulus Black’s blank mask was something Lily was beginning to find unnerving.

“Harry tried to take a step back but his legs wouldn’t move. … ‘Mere shadow and vapor … I have form only when I can share another’s body … Now, why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?’”

“Can he read his mind?” James asked, horrified. Again, it was Regulus who answered.

“He’s a skilled Legilimens,” he replied, his voice the same flat tone.

Sirius’s hard gaze remained on his brother as the rest of the room seemed to take that it.

“Of course,” Sirius said softly. “You would know.”

Regulus’s eyes flickered over and something passed in them before he glanced down. Lily watched as his shoulder’s tightened. Sirius looked away; eyes dark with anger. Severus was glaring at Regulus as well, dark eyes nearly black.

Sirius unlocked his jaw and brought the book back up, determined to continue.

“So he knew. … ‘Yes, boy, your parents were brave … I” Sirius stuttered, looking green. He glanced up, tears in his grey eyes.

“James,” he croaked out. Lily felt her body go cold. James’s hand slid over into Lily’s and gave it a small squeeze. But he didn’t say anything, only staring back at Sirius, face a little sad.

“Sirius,” Remus said quietly, under his breath. Sirius took a deep breath, knuckles turning white as he gripped the book.

“I killed your father first,” Sirius whispered. The air in the Hog’s Head was stifling. “And he put up a courageous fight .. but your mother needn’t have died … she was trying to protect you … Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain.’” Sirius looked sick at the words and the room had fallen silent.

Lily breathed slowly. In. And out. She felt James squeeze her hand again.

“This is so fucking messed up,” Marlene said, voice thick and muffled by her own hands, head down in her palms. Most of the room appeared sick at the reading. Lily refused to look, but at the edge of the room, Severus’s face was deathly pale.

“Sirius,” Lily prompted. Sirius looked at her miserably. “Keep reading,” she said firmly. Sirius brought the book in front of him again.

“’NEVER!’ … he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers – they were blistering before his eyes.”

“What?” James asked, astonished. Lily frowned as well. Was this accidental magic? It was the only explanation coming to her at that moment.

“Is he,” Marlene trailed off. “Nope. I can’t even guess. I have no idea. Someone explain this.” She glanced, almost instinctively, at Dorcas, who looked similarly mystified.

“Caradoc?” Emmeline asked after a short pause. The older Ravenclaw glanced over, hesitantly. “You seem to be the expert in …. body possession?” She said the last two words like a question.

It was clear that no one in the room was quite sure what to make this, a wide variety of expressions flickering across everyone’s face, some degree of confusion in all of them. She had always known that Voldemort was a powerful wizard, but the benchmark of what was possible seemed to adjust every day. Lily found it exhausting.

The other man grimaced at Emmeline’s phrasing. “I certainly wouldn’t call myself an expert. I couldn’t even tell you if that’s what this is. It’s some parasitic form of magic, I think. I don’t know much more than that.”

Sirius’s eyes flickered over to his brother, narrowing.

“Could Quirinius’s body be rejecting Voldemort’s presence?” Edgar asked. He’d been quiet for most of the discussion. His question unnerved Lily, but Caradoc seemed to consider it.

“It’s possible,” was all he said.

“’Seize him!’ … ‘AAAARGH!’ … ‘Harry! Harry!’ … The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.”

Lily let out a shaky relieved sigh.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Remus muttered under his breath. Most of the room seemed agree, letting out a collective sigh.

“’Good afternoon, Harry,’ … ‘I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you – ‘ ‘It was you.’ ‘I feared I might be too late.’”

Lily’s heart clenched at the thought. As thankful as she was that Dumbledore had come, the fact that he’d needed to …

“’You nearly were,’ … ‘Afterall, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.’ … ‘I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?’ ‘No, Harry, he has not.’ … ‘But why would he want to kill me in the first place?’”

Lily leaned forward, desperate for this answer herself.

“Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time. … ‘Your mother died to save you. … It was agony to be touched by something so good.’”

Lily frowned at the explanation. At first, it sounded to her like utter nonsense, but eventually she got was Dumbledore was hinting at. There was some bond created when she’d sacrificed her life. But magic like that, Unbreakable Vows and Life Debts, were always finicky and never reliable. They were only absolute, but always in a very particular way.

“That doesn’t feel like a complete explanation,” Emmeline muttered under her breath.

“Dumbledore not became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, … ‘Professor Snape, Harry.’ ‘Yes, him – Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?’”

Lily felt James go tense next to her and when she looked over, his jaw was clenched tightly. He glared at Severus who resolutely did not meet his gaze.

“’Well, they did rather detest each other. … ‘He saved his life.’”

Severus snorted very loudly at this. “Only after he endangered it,” he sneered. James leaned forward, as if to snap back, but Dumbledore raised his hand, indicating silence.

“Not here,” he said with finality of the subject. The Marauders had all shifted in their seats, leaning forward, or shrinking back, but each froze at Dumbledore’s command. “Mr. Black?” Dumbledore prompted.

Sirius glanced at Dumbledore; eyes widened. He looked, in that moment, almost small, which was not something Lily ever thought Sirius capable of looking. Remus’s head was buckled down, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Marlene had her mouth set in a hard line.

There were several confused glances around the room: Fabian and Gideon Prewett both shot looks toward Emmeline, who grimaced. She had been their year and, even if they hadn’t all been particularly close by that point in fifth year, rumors had spread around Hogwarts like wildfire. Emmeline muttered something under her breath to the brothers that Lily couldn’t hear, and both the twins and Benjy seemed assuaged. Alastor Moody hardly reacted at all, but Edgar Bones raised a thin eyebrow, more politely curious than anything else. Caradoc looked at James in surprise, clearly unapprised of the situation.

It hadn’t been a secret, exactly, at Hogwarts. That James had saved Severus’s life during their fifth year. The rumors had been rampant, each more ridiculous than the last. Lily had largely ignored them, all too familiar with the rumor mill at Hogwarts. She knew, of course, as soon as the participants of that night were sworn into secrecy, what the unmentionable, ambiguous danger each rumor described more ridiculously had truly entailed.

She knew the date that it happened. She had kept track of the moon phases since she had been assigned her prefect partner. She was, of course, not an idiot.

Remus’s eyes were trained on the floor, mouth set in a hard line. Sirius was gripping the book with white knuckles. He took a breath, but eventually returned to reading.

“’What?’ … ‘D’you think he meant you to do it?’ said Ron. ‘Sending you your father’s Cloak and everything?’”

“He better not,” Lily muttered darkly. If Dumbledore had set the whole thing up and endangered her son … Lily glanced over at the man in question. He was staring with a small frown at the book, quiet puzzlement over his face.

McGonagall was also glancing over at the old man, stern face folded into a frown. Lily didn’t even want to entertain the possibility. There was no way Professor McGonagall would be involved in a scheme to put children in danger. The thought was so antithetical to everything Lily knew. And yet, she felt in that moment like she was back on the floor of her dorm, watching a hazy smoke sink into her curtains, Mary McDonald’s voice in her ear.

“’Well,’ Hermione exploded, … ‘Yeah, Dumbledore’s off his rocker.’ … Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving from every page were his mother and father.”

Lily couldn't help but smile, trying to put the implications of Dumbledore out of her mind. She reached out and squeezed James’s hand.

“’Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos …’ … ‘First – to Ronald Weasley … ‘ … ‘I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.’”

“No way,” Gideon said, shaking his head, though he looked more amused than anything else at the blatant favoritism. Even Dorcas was smiling a little, rolling her eyes.

“Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, … ‘I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer …’” Sirius finished, smiling faintly at the last promise, though it looked bittersweet.

He turned over the last page and eventually closed the small book. The art of the castle continued, an owl flying between the colorful bridge. It looked almost, unassuming in his hands.

Chapter Text

Sybil needed a smoke. She’d barely heard Dumbledore call for a break before she was stumbling toward the outside door of the Hog’s Head, fumbling for a cigarette from her sweater pocket. She nearly tripped up the small entrance step, yanking open the door more by momentum than anything else and sticking the smoke in her mouth before it even slammed shut behind her, taking a long draw.

“Might help if it was lit,” the melodic voice of her younger sister floated toward her and Sybil had to brace herself on the railing outside the bar. She took the cigarette out of her mouth, staring at it dumbly for a moment. Her sister’s wand flicked into view and the end of the paper burned red in the cold winter air, heating tickling her fingers. Sybil stuck the thing back in her mouth.

“I could have done that,” she grumbled. Sometimes she hated how Pandora seemed to be the older sister, and Sybil the younger. She could take care of herself. She was capable of it.

“I simply like how you look with eyebrows, and didn’t want to take the chance,” Pandora said with a grin.

Sybil wanted to smile back, for this first time in months she had slept nearly the whole night. She wanted to smile and laugh and maybe feel some of the weight sitting on her chest lift. Instead, she only found it more difficult to gasp in air.

“How’s Xeno?” Sybil asked, desperate to change the subject. Pandora’s eyes lit up at the mention of her husband and Sybil refrained from wrenching. The pair had been disgustingly in love since meeting the year before at Pandora’s internship, both studying experimental magic. Xenophilius, because that was his genuine actual name, was specializing in Creatures, several years ahead of Pandora. Pandora herself was pursuing Spell Creation.

“Wonderful,” Pandora replied. “Studying Abada hybrids in Sudan. He sends his love.”

Sybil rolled her eyes. Xeno was horribly lovely and thoughtful as well. It made it difficult to hate him, not that Sybil hadn’t initially been up for the challenge. Unfortunately, the man was far more patient than her. She smiled.

“Tell him I said hello,” she replied fondly. She took another draw.

Suddenly, the cigarette slipped from Sybil’s hands and her eyes squeezed shut as she took a shuttering breath in, nearly doubling over, feeling like the air had been punched from her lungs. She fumbled out to try to catch her roll-up but with seemingly a blink it was already in the snow at her feet, a coat of fresh flakes covering it already.

Sybil frowned down at it for a moment, confused. Then, her gaze shot upwards toward her sister, whose face was as pale as the snow falling around them.

“I didn’t,” Sybil denied. “I didn’t. No, no, no,” she chanted. “I had more time, I did,” she cried. Pandora’s eyes were wet with tears, horror covering her face and Sybil shook her head in denial. “I had more time. They’re all going to die,” she gasped. “They all – I couldn’t save them,” tears were brimming in Sybil eyes and she tried to blink them back. I couldn’t save you.

This seemed to jerk Pandora from her stupor and her hands shot out to hold Sybil’s shoulders. It was only then did Sybil realize she had been sinking to the floor.

“No. Billie look at me.” Sybil closed her eyes and shook her head. The prophecy. That damn prophecy. She couldn’t swallow it; it was lodged there, in the back of her throat like bile.

“Sybil Trelawney look at me,” Pandora snapped, sounding so much like their mother that Sybil suddenly stood ramrod straight, wide green eyes meeting her sisters. Pandora looked at her sternly.

“You did not say the prophecy,” she said, staring at Sybil like she was determined to make the older woman understand her words. She repeated, slower, “You did not foretell this future. Do you understand?” Pandora asked and Sybil nodded. Pandora let go of her shoulders.

“Now repeat that back to me,” Pandora said, and Sybil huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. She’d had a small panic attack. That didn’t mean she had to be babied.

“Billie – “

“I didn’t foretell that stupid prophecy,” Sybil cut her off, knowing she had to keep up the pretense of hating that childhood nickname. She could never let Pandora know, having spent far too many years denying it, but her heart always melted when Pandora called her that. It reminded Sybil of when they were children, and Pandora’s lisp made it impossible for her to articulately say Sybil’s name. Back when she still needed to be tucked into bed by her older sister.

Pandora gave her a mischievous smile telling Sybil that the younger girl saw right through her. That was always the thing about Pandora. She was always so present. So aware of others and their feelings. Sybil was always stuck in the future or the past. The present always seemed to just pass her by.

“What did I say?” Sybil asked, glancing down again at where her cigarette had fallen. No drying spell could save it now. She fished another out of her pocket, yanking her wand from her hair and sending a burst of flames that singed her eyebrows. She took a deep drag.

Pandora’s face pales again, jawline setting rigid and Sybil narrowed her eyes at her sister. Pandora always told her if she asked. She never kept it a secret. She understood that sometimes Sybil needed to know.

“It – I’m not sure,” Pandora stumbled out and at this, Sybil’s eyebrows shot up. It also wasn’t like her sister to find herself inarticulate. She was methodical in the way she spoke, and she always knew exactly what to say. This? Sybil didn’t know what to do with this.

“Out with it,” Sybil said irritated, glancing behind the girl and seeing that much of the room had settled down into their seats again, getting ready to start the next book.

Pandora glanced away, head tilted so far down, Sybil almost missed the tears brimming in her sister’s blue eyes. Immediately, guilt washed through Sybil’s body.

“The night sky. A single star.” Pandora said, voice thick. “That’s what you said.”

Sybil frowned for only a moment before the weight of her own words clicked in her head. Her gaze shot again to Hog’s Head behind her, only able to see the heads of a few members of the Order standing near the bar through the small window on the bar door. Sirius Black chose that moment to glance out, grey eyes meeting hers for only a brief moment before flickering back to someone out of sight. He threw his head back and laughed.

Sybil sighed.

“They don’t always come true,” Sybil said. She took a ragged breath, trying to will the feeling of water from her lungs. Her gaze shot back to her sister. Pandora’s eyes were dry, her gaze fixed somewhere on the dull grey sky. It had been overcast nearly since the start of November.

“I know,” Pandora said simply. Sybil rolled her eyes. She clearly didn’t.

“They don’t. They’re more likely to come true the more you worry about them,” she tried.

“I know,” Pandora snapped back. She snatched Sybil’s cigarette out of her fingers and stubbed it out in the snow.

“You should talk to him,” Sybil suggested as Pandora vanished both butts with her wand. Sybil knew that Regulus had been one of Pandora’s only friends at Hogwarts, and the past two years had worn on them. Pandora had … grown quiet in a way that Sybil didn’t like. And as much as she wished she could blame it on the Slytherin, she was fairly sure it was the distance from him that had Pandora withdrawing into herself.

Pandora sighed. “I spoke to him last night,” she said. Sybil raised an eyebrow.

“Aberforth let you into the same room?” she asked, surprised. The old bar man had been eyeing both Slytherins the majority of yesterday, and he appeared to be picking up the pastime again that morning. Pandora shook her head with a slight smile.

“Not at all,” she replied vaguely. Sybil rolled her eyes. Most likely, the pair exchanged cryptic remarks, and both thought that satisfied the basic requirements of a conversation. Sybil entertained pushing it.

“We should go back inside,” Pandora said, almost like she could sense Sybil wanting to broach the topic. She sighed.

“I’ll drop it for now,” Sybil warned, giving Pandora a look that promised she would bring it back up again later. Pandora resolutely avoided her vision.

“Also,” Sybil said, lifting her bony fingers and flicking Pandora directly in the nose.

Pandora battered her hand away. “What the – “

“Don’t touch my smokes,” Sybil said throwing her arm around her sister’s thin shoulders, taking comfort that she still towered over the younger girl.

“Billie – “ Pandora said, fighting her off.

Sybil reached around and gave her nose another flick. This time, Pandora’s hand darted up and grabbed Sybil’s.

“Hey – ow – ow – Panda – “ Sybil cried when Pandora gave a triumphant twist.

“Don’t touch my nose,” Pandora warned. “Or I’ll spell yours off.” Sybil gasped dramatically.

Pandora grinned, rolling her eyes, and tugging the door to the Hog’s Head open and slipping in. Sybil gave one last look to the grey sky. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine all the stars the stretched out beyond the cloudy cover.

Chapter Text

Peter Pettigrew was unmistakably uncomfortable. It wasn’t exactly a novel feeling.

The atmosphere of the Hog’s Head had grown dense in the moments after the reading of the first book finished. The dank air was adrift with voices, tension, and a few scattered laughs as people tried to lighten the mood. Peter felt particularly stifled by it.

He couldn’t even contribute the feeling to those damnable books that Trelawney had brought out, her words sounding distinctly like nails pounding into a coffin. No, he had been feeling this way for far longer than this stupid task could be given credit for. Electricity sparkling under his skin, like he was permanently under the Cruciatus. He had been feeling that way for nearly two weeks, as if the curse had truly never actually been lifted off him.

It wasn’t a night he dared remember. Fear keeping the thoughts away as well as Occlumency. Shame a hand around his neck.

“I, um, am going to grab a cuppa,” Lily said, her voice in a strange daze that Peter hardly recognized. The redhead stood rather suddenly and, as if they were connected by an invisible thread, James jumped up a well.

“I’ll come with,” he said, brown eyes searching hers. Peter might have expected Lily to roll her eyes or make a comment about not having to be chaperoned to the bar. If things were normal, she might have insisted on going alone, or tease James about his codependency. But things weren’t normal. It felt like things hadn’t been normal in a very long time.

Lily smiled and took his hand, letting James pull her over to Aberforth, who was going back and forth with Marlene about putting firewhiskey in her coffee.

“Think they’ll be okay?” Peter asked, the words slipping out of his mouth without permission. His voice was small, lost in the din but for his friend’s keen ears.

“Of course,” Remus said kindly and the same time Sirius snorted,

“Definitely not.” The familiarity of it made Peter chuckle, ever so softly.

“Oh good, well as long as we’re on the same page about it,” he said dutifully, bringing a smile to Remus’s eyes while Sirius shook his head.

“Oh please, Moony,” Sirius started. “They’re in denial.”

“Sirius, you’re in denial,” Remus said. Sirius gaped at him.

“No, I’m not!” he argued. Peter resisted the urge to close his eyes. Sometimes it felt like they hadn’t grown much since school. He could almost imagine four-poster frame beds surrounding them, smoke from Remus’s Cadet’s lingering in the air. It hurt sometimes, thinking back those days and those times. Everything since seventh year had gotten so messy and complicated.

Truly, everything since sixth year, or the Spring before, really. Peter hated thinking about it, it made the underside of his skin itch. He’d lost something – or had it ripped away from him. He wasn’t sure.

“Sirius, you are,” Remus said, voice reasonable enough to stop Sirius in his tracks. The other boy was staring open mouthed, grey eye wide and incredulous.

“Come on, we are all really,” Remus continued gesturing vaguely around the room. Marlene and Aberforth were still heckling back and forth, and James had said something that had gotten Lily to cover her mouth, stifling a laugh nearby. Dorcas was watching her girlfriend with a frown on her face, and Fabian and Gideon where caught in something that was beginning to look like an argument, with Emmeline sitting nearby, like a child whose parents were fighting. There were scattered conversations around the room, the dark atmosphere only being cut briefly when Trelawney and her sister stepped outside, winter air striking.

“What do you mean ‘we all are?’” Sirius asked back, more curious than biting. Peter turned to Remus, curious as well.

Remus only rolled his eyes, hard expression settling over his features. “Please, Sirius. You’re thinking it right now. You’re thinking to yourself ‘there’s no way I’m going to let that happen.’”

“Well we won’t,” Sirius said forcefully, like he expected Remus to argue this point. Remus turned fully to look at him and Peter recognized something in the boy’s eyes. Something that looked far more wolf than man in that moment.

“But yesterday morning you would have, yeah?” Remus asked and Sirius glared at him.

“No! What the hell, Moony – “

“That’s what I’m saying,” Remus interrupted harshly. His anger stopped Sirius’s words in his throat. Peter felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to sink into the floor. He wanted to become Wormtail and never transform back. He didn’t want to be here.

“We would have never let anything happen to James,” Remus said, glancing at Peter now, as if checking the other boy was still following along. Peter forced himself to nod numbly and a strange look crossed over Remus’s face.

“But that’s just the thing. Nothing’s changed, from yesterday to today. You don’t think that whatever versions of ourselves that existed in that book would have done whatever we could to save James? You don’t think we would have done anything to stop his and Lily’s death?” Remus cut himself off, voice shaking. “But we didn’t. We couldn’t.”

Sirius and Peter were staring wide eyed at Remus, and Peter could feel tears pooling in the corners of his own.

“So, what?” Sirius asked, feeling like he was falling, desperate to grasp onto some emotion with a hard edge. “You’re saying it’s inevitable?”

Remus was already shaking his head. “No,” he said immediately. Irrevocably. He took a deep breath. “But just stop fucking saying it's impossible.” Remus’s eyes darkened, flickering between both of them. Peter wanted to imagine they were twelve again, brewing up mischief in the back of Slughorn’s class, but those days seemed so impossible to reach, and Remus's eyes were far too cold for schoolyard antics. “That might have been the reason they died the first time.”

Peter didn’t know what to say. It felt like a squeezing hex had been placed on his neck. He wanted to use a time turner, return his mother’s house two weeks back. Make some other decision. It had been a one-time thing, he’d promised himself. Only once.

Only twice.

“Okay,” Sirius’s hoarse voice made Peter jump, yanked back into the present. “Yeah, okay.” Sirius repeated. He locked eyes with Remus for a long moment before flickering back to Peter and giving him a wry smile. “But you're wrong." he said simply and Peter's eyes snapped to Remus in surprise. Remus's anger seemed to have drained from him.

"It is different. From yesterday morning," he added by way of explanation. "We know what's coming now." He paused dramatically, the corners of his mouth twitching up. "And none of us are going to die,” he promised. Peter felt hollow, trying to return Sirius small smile.

Remus shook his head, letting out a small, shaky laugh. “Sure, Padfoot,” he said, his previous seriousness melting away completely. Peter felt carved from stone.

“None of us?” he repeated, a little robotically. It was becoming difficult for his eyes to focus on his friends in front of him. His friends.

Sirius’s face darkened immediately. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he appeared to ask no one in particular. His searching eyes, like they always seemed to, found Remus. “Where are we?”

Remus frowned, thoughtful look crossing his face, clearing understanding what Sirius meant. Peter felt like he was still stumbling behind the conversation.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to feel a little less numb.

Sirius glanced at him in surprise.

“I mean, where are we? In this story? Why aren’t we with Harry? Why doesn’t he know us? Even if – even if, you know – “

“You can say it, mate,” James’s voice suddenly cut in, his hand clapping Sirius’s shoulder. Peter actually did jump a little in his seat this time, spinning quickly to see James and Lily move to settle back into their seats, arms filled with cups and snacks. Peter jumped to help Lily pass them around.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Oi, shut it,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve already got the lecture from Moony.” James turned to Remus; brown eyes playful.

“I missed a Moony lecture?” he asked dramatically. “No!”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Lily muttered, exchanging wry grins with Remus. She passed him a familiar cup of tea that Peter recognized as helping with soreness.

“I can say it,” Sirius grumbled under his breath, looking comically chastised. Remus turned to him; eyebrow raised expectantly. Sirius ignored him for a moment, taking a purposeful sip of tea before turning to look. His mouth dropped open.

“I can, but I don’t have to,” Sirius defended.

"Didn't we just have a conversation about denial?" Remus gave him a flat look and James smiled into his drink. Sirius turned his glare on him.

“Traitor,” he muttered under his breath. There was another moment of expectant silence before Sirius dramatically rolled his eyes. “Alright fine. Until my best friend, my favorite Gryffindor, the only one who truly understands me is killed by Voldemort,” he said and then paused, glancing at James. “Oh, and you too James.”

James smacked his arm. “Bastard,” he said fondly. Lily and Sirius both threw their heads back, giving a hearty laugh. Remus swallowed his own, but his shoulder shook with amusement.

“It doesn’t make sense, though.” It took Peter a moment to realize it was him who had spoken. He felt like he was in a bubble, the lightened atmosphere of their table dancing around him, but never reaching him. Everyone’s eyes turned toward Peter and he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

“I mean,” he defended. “It doesn’t, right? How did – how did You-Know-Who …” Peter searched for the words. “I mean, what did Harry do?” he finally settled on, thinking back to those first few pages yesterday. The explanation was worse than incomplete. It was vague. It made absolutely no sense. How was it possible a baby stopped the Dark Lord?

And as much as Peter wanted to dream of a world without the Dark Lord, he couldn’t fathom it. The Dark Lord had been a figure looming over Peter his entire life, and he had only ever grown larger, gotten closer. At that moment, it felt like he was breathing down Peter’s neck. He was so present, everywhere, all the time. There was no way he could simply be … gone.

Remus was shaking his head. “That’s not the right question,” he said simply, and Peter’s eyes flickered over to his friend. His friend.

“What do you mean Moony?” James asked, seeming just as confused as everyone else. Remus’s eyes flickered to James’s right.

“The right question is what did Lily do.”

Chapter Text

James was thankful for the short break before the next book. The next book. There was another. There were six more. Seven total. James didn’t think he could handle seven books.

He felt like he was still trying to process the first, his mind swimming with a million questions that he didn’t know how to ask, much less answer.

“You alright, mate?” Sirius’s low voice jarred James from his thoughts. From his spiral. The group had fallen silent since Remus’s proclamation, another thing James was trying to sort through. He wanted this all explained to him immediately. James had never been the best in school. A combination of restless energy and boredom, but he wasn’t an idiot, despite his friends’ jokes. But trying to figure out what was happening in this story, what had happened or would happen or however Trelawney wanted to explain it, was giving him a headache.

Sirius’s long hair had fallen in his face, but his grey eyes shone with abnormal intensity. James tried to offer him a smile but from the way Sirius’s face fell, he knew it hadn’t come across. Beside them, Remus and Lily were chatting easily, seeming to have taken upon the task of getting Peter to smile. The other boy hadn’t been taking the readings well, falling even more quiet and morose the past day and half than he’d been even the year prior.

“I’ll be alright,” James surprised himself with how firm his voice sounded. The smile Sirius offered back was more genuine this time.

“How about you?” James asked, willing his eyes not to flicker over to where Regulus sat, talking quietly with Pandora while she tried to give him tea.

Sirius shrugged indifferently. “Me? I’m fine,” he said, and it might have fooled anyone else but never James. There was a slight tightness around Sirius’s mouth, pulling his lips thin.

“Really?” was the only thing James asked, one eyebrow raised. Sirius held his gaze for all of one second before blowing out a long breath.

“I’m not thinking about it,” Sirius said. He was turned toward James, almost deliberately not facing the front of the room where his brother sat.

“Seems healthy,” James quipped.

“You want to talk about it?” Sirius shot back, challenge in his eyes.

“Sure,” James said cheerily. “Apparently, in two years, I’m going to die.” Sirius’s eyes shuttered close. He instantly regretted his words, knowing how much Sirius had been struggling admitting it to himself.

But part of James needed to say it. Part of him thought that Sirius needed to hear it. Even despite the joking with Remus just moments ago, Sirius was still avoiding the words, dancing around them.

“James,” Sirius croaked out and James could feel tears burn at the corners of his own eyes. “I know what Remus said, but you know I won’t let that happen, right?”

James did know. And he even agreed. Remus was right. Not much had changed from yesterday to today. James would still die for his friends and he knew they would die for him. It was something he’d forced himself to consider, when he’d first joined the Order. He wasn’t in denial. He knew the dangers of war. But reading about this. Well, it had made everything feel all the more real.

James smiled sadly and looked over at his wife. As if sensing him looking, Lily glanced over from her, Remus, and Peter’s conversation. She was staring at him, a little worried. Her red hair was pulled back, loose strands tucked behind her hears, freckles splattered her cheeks. He hadn’t noticed when she had done that, but he was sure it had been down this morning. Her green eyes sparkled.

“You can’t promise that,” James said softly, glancing back at his best friend. More than his friend. His brother. “But you can promise that, if anything ever happens to us …” James took a deep breath. “If anything happens to us you won’t let Harry go to that woman.” James didn’t need to specify who; he knew Sirius understood by the way his eyes darkened.

“Never,” Sirius said immediately, emphatically. “I – James, nothing is going to happen to you. But I promise. I wouldn’t let Harry go there.”

James let out a breath himself and jumped a little when he felt a Lily nudge him. She and Remus seemed to have abandoned their conversation entirely now and she leaned into him.

“Everything okay here?” Lily asked, taking a sip of her tea. Sirius gave her a wide grin.

“Sure. James just asked me to be little Potter’s godfather,” he said. Lily raised an eyebrow turning to James expectantly. James spluttered.

“I – well. I – yes,” he finally settled on. “I guess I did,” James said, knowing that this was definitely something one asked their spouse before doing. He hadn’t given any thought to it before that moment, but truthfully, they both knew there really wasn’t a question. Lily stared at him for a long moment before breaking into a soft smile.

“We would be honored if you accepted the position, Black,” Lily said formally, the teasing tone evident in her voice.

Sirius out a hand to his heart dramatically. “Why, Evans, you’re making me blush.”

Not long after that, everyone settled back into their seats, nerves high, chatter falling into quiet murmurs. Sybil Trelawney had already pulled another book from her bag, taping her multicolored nails against it nervously.

James hadn’t known the girl in school, as she had been several years older. He wasn’t even sure of her House. She had been quiet nearly the entire reading and looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in a week.

None of this was doing much to help James’s nerves.

“Alright, is everyone settled in?” Dumbledore asked from his table, blue eyes flickering around the room. James stared at his former Headmaster, wondering, not for the first time, why he’d had James’s family’s invisibility cloak. The cloak’s existence wasn’t something he’d made widely known, outside the Marauders of course. But the difference was James trust them with his life. He trusted Dumbledore, but he’d always known that his old Headmaster had been more of … a big picture type of wizard. It was something James’s dad had told him.

“I can read,” Lily said next to him and James glanced over in surprise. Lily got up to get the book from Sybil, frowning as she looked at the cover. When she returned to the seat, James caught a glimpse of it as well.

The golden lettering read Harry Potter largely on the top, and beneath it were words: and the Chamber of Secrets. James furrowed his eyebrows, not recognizing the reference.

On the rest cover of the book was – well him. A boy who looked remarkably like James, save for a scar on his forehead and bright green eyes that glittered from behind his round glasses. The boy had a sword at his waist and seemed to be holding onto the tail of a familiar bright red bird that James took a moment to place.

Fawkes. The Phoenix in Dumbledore’s office. James’s eyebrows shot up.

“Chapter One,” Lily started, clearing her throat as she read. “The Worst Birthday.”

“Off to a great start,” Sirius muttered under his breath. James felt his heart drop.

“Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. … ‘I know what’ll happen if that owl’s let out.’”

Marlene frowned. “What – exactly – do they think is going to happen?”

James glanced at Lily who looked more thoughtful than upset but he knew she had to be hurting. Lily had told James of a different Petunia, the one she knew from before Hogwarts. He knew Lily and her sister had a complicated relationship, but James didn’t see the woman Lily told him stories about anywhere in these pages.

The one-time James had met Petunia, face to face, was the other woman’s wedding. It had been a mess of a day, and James was told not to hold the event against the her. Lily kept repeating that her sister was just stressed, she’d dreamt of a perfect wedding all her life, and she understood why her sister was terrified of Lily messing it up. The whole situation hadn’t sat right with James, but he’d known better than to bring it up right then and there.

“They probably don’t want him to contact his friends,” Sirius said quietly when it was clear that Lily wasn’t going to answer. James swallowed hard at that, glancing at his best friend. He remembered, after their first year, Sirius telling them just before the train left, not to write him that summer. Begging them not to send him any letters. James had. He hadn’t understood just yet, why Sirius had been asking.

Later Sirius thanked him for doing that, but James wasn’t sure. Still wasn’t sure. Sirius hid so much of that house from him. Almost subconsciously, James’s eyes drifted over to the front table. Regulus’s eyes were locked on the table, small fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his school robes.

“He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia. … ‘You’ve forgotten the magic word.’ Oh Harry,” Lily cut in, sighing. “The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: … What was it to the Dursleys if Harry went back to school without any of his homework done? … Voldemort’s power had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry.”

“We still don’t know how,” Moody said gruffly. Emmeline frowned.

“I thought we did. Lily sacrificed her life. Sacrificial magic … well it’s old and unreliable but when it works, that would have saved Harry’s life.”

“It might have saved Harry’s life, Em, but it doesn’t explain why it killed Voldemort. At best, the curse would have missed, or fizzled out. It doesn’t explain what happened to Voldemort.” Benjy Fenwick sounded thoughtful.

“Hm,” Caradoc hummed thoughtfully, as if rolling over a particularly difficult exam problem in his head.

“If you’re all done speculating why my son didn’t die,” snapped Lily, green eyes fierce. James laid his hand over hers instantly, worried at the sudden anger. Most of the room looked appropriately cowed.

“Sorry, Lils,” Emmeline said quietly. “We didn’t mean it like that.”

Lily gave her a short nod before finding her place in the book again.

“So Harry had been brought up by his dead mother’s sister and her husband. … The Dursleys hadn’t even remembered that today happened to be Harry’s twelfth birthday. … ‘This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career.’”

Sirius scoffed, shaking his head in anger.

“Harry went back to his toast. … ‘I’ll be in my bedroom making no noise and pretending I’m not there.’”

“I hate these people,” Marlene said. “No offense, Lily.”

Lily rolled her eyes, seeming to have calmed down from her earlier outburst.

“None taken,” she said. “’Exactly,’ … No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending not to exist.”

“I don’t understand,” Remus said with a frown. “Surely Ron and Hermione would send something? Or even Hagrid.”

James frowned. He had no doubt that Ron and Hermione would have sent gifts, or at least a letter. The only way to stop that would be to put up anti-owl wards, but an adult wizard would have needed to put those in place.

“He gazed miserably into the hedge. … Neither of them had written to him all summer, even though Ron had said he was going to ask Harry to come stay.”

“Okay something is definitely up,” Remus said firmly, and James agreed.

“Maybe warding?” Dorcas offered, echoing James’s own thoughts.

“Who would have put it in place, though?” James asked. Wards on a muggle street usually had to be approved by the Ministry.

Lily was frowning at him, shaking her head, clearly mystified. “I doubt Petunia and Vernon would have been able to figure out how to keep letters out. I mean, we all saw how well that worked last year.”

No one seemed to have another explanation though, and eventually, Lily continued.

“Countless times, Harry had been on the point of unlocking Hedwig’s cage by magic and sending her to Ron and Hermione with a letter, but it wasn’t worth the risk.”

“It is,” Sirius muttered under his breath again.

“Underage wizards weren’t allowed to use magic outside of school. … Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.”

“What?” Emmeline asked, totally confused. “Is he imagining that?”

“He’s not crazy,” Sirius snapped back. Emmeline raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not saying that. But he is a little stir-crazy. Any of us would be,” she replied evenly.

“Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the lawn. … ‘MUUUM! He’s doing you know what!’”

Sirius and Peter were both laughing at Harry’s ‘threat,’ Remus smiling softly. James couldn’t help but smile either, but he saw Lily chewing on her lip nervously as she continued to read.

“Harry paid dearly for his moment of fun. … Then she gave him work to do, with the promise he wouldn’t eat again until he’d finished.” Lily’s fingers had gone white from gripping the book and her voice thickened as she read what her sister did, eyes blinking back tears.

“Love,” James said quietly. “I can read if you need me too,” he offered. Lily shook her head, taking a shaky breath.

“While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, … The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.”

Lily shoved the book in James’s hands wordlessly when she finished reading, folding her arms across her chest. “Next chapter,” she said quietly.

James swallowed, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder, feeling her relax into it, he gave her a soft squeeze. Then he looked down at the book in front of him.

“Chapter Two. Dobby’s Warning.”

Chapter Text

“Dobby?” Regulus asked with a frown that had Sirius turning his way.

“Do you recognize the name?” Lily asked curiously. Regulus only looked thoughtful.

“It sounds familiar,” was all he replied. It was a strange thing, watching Regulus interact with Lily. Sirius hadn’t been sure how it would go. He’d never seen Regulus interact with a muggleborn before, aside from the silent exchange with Dorcas the day before. But Dorcas was also a Slytherin. Lily was not only a muggleborn, but a Gryffindor. And a friend of Sirius’s. One of those alone was usually enough for Regulus to turn up his pointed nose.

“Harry managed not to shout but it was a close thing.” James started. “The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls.”

“Sounds like a House Elf,” Caradoc mused. Sirius furrowed his brow. He, admittedly, did not have the best impression of House Elves. The ones at Hogwarts were nice but the Black family elf, Kreacher, was a horrible little thing. He had no idea what this elf would be like, but he was sure its presence could not be anything good. Maybe it was an elf from Hogwarts, but outside of the school, only Pureblood families really kept elves anymore.

James continued reading as if the interruption hadn’t happened.

“Harry knew instantly that this was what had been watching him that morning. … ‘Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf,’ said the creature.”

“Er, are they all like that?” asked Marlene with a frown.

Sirius understood her confusion. Most wizards likely wouldn’t have any sort of impression of House elves, uncommon as they were. Most house elves in the country were owned by the same twenty or so families, or by institutions such as the Ministry Library or Hogwarts. It was an old practice, and one that was allegedly falling out of favor in other parts of the wizarding world.

Peter shrugged. “The ones in the kitchens are.”

“The kitchens? The Hogwarts kitchens?” Marlene asked, leaning forward. “Hogwarts has house-elves?”

“Who do you think cleans the dorms every day or makes our food?” Regulus said prudishly, turning a glare on Marlene. Marlene raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I guess I never really thought about it.”

“’Oh – really?’ … To his horror, the elf burst into tears – very noisy tears. … ‘Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard – like an equal – ‘”

“Narcissa,” Regulus said suddenly, drawing everyone in the room’s attention. His eyes flickered over to Sirius.

“What?” Sirius asked, perplexed.

“At her wedding,” Regulus gave by way of explanation. He looked irritated that Sirius wasn’t immediately understanding. Narcissa’s wedding had occurred at the beginning of that summer. One of the last lovely little events he attended before escaping to James’s not a week later. More than anything, Sirius was surprised Regulus was even bringing it up.

“Uncle Cygnus gave her and Lucius a house-elf as a wedding gift. His name was Dobby,” Regulus explained. Sirius had absolutely no recollection of that. The most Sirius remembered about that event was getting very drunk on lavender infused champagne. But he didn’t doubt Regulus’s recollection.

“So, it’s Malfoy’s elf,” he said darkly. This was certainly no good. He also mentally placed Dobby a bit closer to Kreacher on the House-elf scale. In his experience, House elves owned by purist families generally held the same beliefs as their masters.

And had no problem following orders.

“Harry tried to say ‘Shh!’ and look comforting at the same time, … ‘Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!’”

“Oh my gosh,” Lily said, horrified. “What is he doing?”

“He’s punishing himself,” Regulus said softly, eyes sad. “For misspeaking about his Master.”

“I – why?” Lily asked, baffled. Sirius shrugged.

“It’s how they are. House elves.” He could feel Regulus glowering on his back. He did not have the mental capacity to deal with Regulus’s inexplicable fondness for Kreacher right now.

“’Don’t – what are you doing?’ … Dobby dissolved into wails of gratitude.”

“He needs to be quiet,” muttered Remus, shooting worried glances at the book. Sirius silently agreed. As traumatized as Dobby seemed, Sirius wasn’t sure he could stomach reading more about the Dursley’s poor treatment of Harry.

“’Please,’ … ‘Dobby heard tell,’ he said hoarsely, ‘that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago … that Harry Potter escaped yet again.’”

Sirius felt shivers run down his spine at the reminder. Harry was just twelve. This shouldn’t be happening, but it certainly shouldn’t be happening to him.

“That’s not good,” Regulus said darkly, expression pulled tight. Sirius frowned.

“I mean, I agree. But why do you think so?” Sirius asked. His gaze flickered down again to his brother’s forearm, fighting the desire to march over and yank his sleeve up. Regulus glared at him. The expression sort of filled Sirius with a strange nostalgia that he was refusing to address.

“If Dobby has heard about the Dark Lord’s return, there’s only one place he would have heard it from. The Malfoys.” What Regulus was saying finally sunk in.

“The Death Eaters who managed to avoid Azkaban. They’re hearing he’s back,” Caradoc said gravely, putting the pieces together as well. Sirius felt James go tense beside him.

Regulus pursed his lips. “Maybe. Some might not believe it. Or be hoping it isn’t true.”

“Why would they hope it’s not true?” Marlene asked, seeming mostly curious. Regulus just shrugged his shoulders though, apparently done with replying.

Sirius sat there, watching his younger brother. The situation was so bizarre to him. Sitting around, at an Order meeting, talking with Regulus about Death Eaters. Sirius had no idea what was going on anymore. He wanted to shout at Regulus. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to punch him. He wanted to know what the hell his little brother was thinking.

When they were kids, Regulus would talk to Sirius about everything. He was a quiet kid, except when the two of them were alone. Then, it was like he couldn’t shut up. Regulus would tell Sirius everything, any thought that crossed his mind, and it had always made Sirius feel special. That Sirius was one Regulus chose to open up to. That his brother trusted him.

They hadn’t been like that in a long time.

“Harry nodded and Dobby’s eyes suddenly shone with tears. … ‘Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.’”

There was a beat of silence, James frowning at what he just read.

“What?” Dorcas asked, leaning forward. “Why wouldn’t he go back to Hogwarts?” But no one had an answer.

“There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon’s voice. … ‘Harry Potter must stay where he is safe.’”

“He is not safe in that house,” Sirius interrupted, glaring at the book.

“Hogwarts is the safest place for him,” Dorcas agreed, frowning.

“'He is too great, too good, to lose.’ … ‘Dobby had known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!’”

“Great,” Lily’s head had fallen in her hands and her words were muffled. “A horrible dangerous plot is afoot. I suppose there was no hope that my son would have a normal second year?” she asked no one in particular.

Sirius shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this book, and the upcoming books. Harry was only twelve and already Voldemort was stirring, rising again. Sirius himself was just starting Hogwarts during Voldemort's first rise to power. Never in all his nightmares would he imagine that in another decade, children would still be raised amidst war. Were all these books about Harry? Sirius wondered. How old would he be by the end of it all? Some days, Sirius felt so old. Surely the books wouldn’t only cover a year each …

“’What terrible things?’ … ‘Not – not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir – ‘”

“He must mean Lucius,” Sirius cut in. Lucius was close to Voldemort and Imperius claim or not, Sirius didn’t see the other man simply changing his ways in the next ten years.

“Malfoy’s got something planned because he’s heard his Master is back,” Sirius said in disgust. He should have wrung that slimy git’s neck when he’d had the chance.

Everyone else in the room was tense.

“But Dobby’s eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint."

“I don’t understand. Dobby wants to help. Why doesn’t he just say it?” Marlene asked, frustrated.

Sirius was a little surprised. He knew Marlene was a halfblood, but she had grown up in a magical household. He was having a difficult time remembering that House-elves weren’t common, considering Sirius’s own upbringing. Kreacher was a constant in his childhood, dutifully following Walburga’s every order. The House Black kept many House elves, but very few wizards ever interacted with them unless they were bound to their family.

“He has orders not to,” Sirius explained. “House elves are bound to their master’s orders. Their magic is. They have to follow them.”

Marlene crinkled her nose, but nodded, accepting the explanation.

“’Harry, however, was completely lost. … ‘Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?’”

“What – Dobby’s been stealing Harry’s mail?” Marlene asked, outraged. Dorcas looked pensive next to her.

“Could he do that without orders?” she asked. Instinctively, Sirius glanced at Regulus.

His brother was quiet for a moment, and Sirius almost wondered if he was going to answer.

“Maybe,” Regulus said finally. Regulus had always been more interested in house elves, kinder to Kreacher than Sirius ever thought he deserved to be. More willing to forgive the elf for what he put the two brothers through growing up. “It would depend. House elf orders never expire. So, he may have been told something in the past that is allowing him to be here or to steal Harry’s letters.”

Others in the room nodded thoughtfully and James took the silence as invitation to continue.

“’I expect they’ve just been – wait a minute,’ … ‘Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir …’”

“That’s messed up,” said Emmeline. Remus sighed.

“He probably thinks he’s helping,” Remus said sadly. Sirius just shook his head.

“Harry wasn’t listening. … On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.”

Remus grimaced. “Though he certainly isn’t going about it in the best way,” he added, which Sirius thought was a major understatement. Dobby seemed intent to get Harry into trouble, despite the consequences. Maybe that should make Sirius worried about whatever scheme Lucius Malfoy had cooked up to scare the elf, but he was mostly just annoyed. He wanted to get Harry out of that damn house.

“’No,’ croaked Harry. … There were screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen to find Harry, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunia’s pudding.”

“Oh Merlin,” Peter whispered, wide eyes watching the book in horror.

“At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon could gloss the whole thing over. … Harry looked up from the letter and gulped.”

“I – how? Harry didn’t cast the spell?” Lily asked, leaning forward.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sirius explained. “The Trace just detects if there are underaged wizards around when magic is used. If there isn’t an adult wizard, or it isn’t a magical household, the Ministry is notified.”

Lily frowned. “So, witches and wizards from magical households don’t get punished for magic outside of Hogwarts? It’s just the muggleborn?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s a byproduct of the Statute of Secrecy.” That only seemed to make Lily angrier.

“But muggleborn families already know about magic. All they’re doing is taking away the only defense mechanism many muggleborn have. And during a war that’s targeting them!” she argued.

Lily glared at the book, finding it the only thing in the room worth her ire at the moment. Sirius couldn’t argue with her. There entire system was corrupt. How could it not be? The laws were passed by pureblood families and mostly for pureblood families. Even the illegal magic practice in pureblood circles, no pureblood would ever get in trouble for it. The laws were put in place in order exclude any other blood type. It was a horrible, self-perpetuating system and it pissed Sirius off at the best of times.

“’You didn’t tell us you weren’t allowed to use magic outside school,’ said Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes.”

“Wouldn’t your sister already know that though?” Marlene asked, frowning again. Lily sighed.

“We didn’t really … talk about that stuff at home,” she said evasively.

“’Forgot to mention it …’ … Otherwise he was locked in his room around the clock.”

Lily muttered darkly under her breath. Sirius gritted his teeth, reminders of his own childhood circling his mind. He glanced over instinctively at Regulus and found the other boy looking back at him, dark grey eyes stormy.

“Three days later, the Dursleys were showing no signs of relenting, and Harry couldn’t see any way out of his situation. … Ron Weasley was outside Harry’s window.”

There were some scattered cheers around the room, some confusion, but mostly people seemed relieved at Ron’s presence. Sirius let out a grin, eyes darting to James. A friend coming to the rescue … it was achingly familiar. Sirius was very glad that Harry had someone like that in his life.

“Anyone want to read next?” James asked and Sirius looked around, realizing most already had.

“Give it here, mate,” he said, gesturing for the book. James handed it over. Sirius read the chapter title, smiling to himself.

“Chapter Three. The Burrow.”

Chapter Text

Fabian Prewett sat forward when Sirius read the chapter title, exchanging an excited look with Gideon. Arthur and Molly moved into the Burrow not long after they got married, shortly before Bill arrived.

It had been a Weasley property for several generations, and while the Prewetts might have had available estates in more magical areas, Fabian knew that Arthur and Molly had chosen the Burrow very intentionally. The area was well secluded, difficult to find, and easy to ward. It was a perfect place to raise a family in the middle of a war.

“’Ron!’ … Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked midair.” Sirius paused, smiling. “Wicked,” he added.

Gideon’s eyebrows rose. Fabian knew that Arthur had a fascination with everything Muggle, but he had only recently become obsessed with automobiles, basically mechanical carriages, he’d explained, though how they ran without magic, Fabian was at a loss. Perhaps what he was hearing now the result of that obsession, however.

“Grinning at Harry from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron’s elder brothers. … ‘We’ve come to take you home with us.’”

Lily let out a loud sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Godric.”

James grinned at her. “Ron’s a good friend,” he said, a little wistful. Lily smiled up at him, knowingly.

“He is.”

“’But you can’t magic me out either – ‘ … ‘A lot of wizards think it’s a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick,’ … There was a small click and the door opened.”

“Troublemakers after my own heart,” Fabian said fondly. Gideon rolled his eyes, hiding his own grin.

“Not a bad trick to learn to be honest. So many wizards these days rely on charms. If we could just pick a lock … “ Gideon trailed off. Fabian thought it was a great idea, truthfully. It wouldn’t do much good against a ward, but simple locking charms…

An instinctive glance at Moody suggested the old Auror was actually considering it.

“’So – we’ll get your truck – grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Ron,’ whispered George. … ‘THAT RUDDY OWL’”

“Oh no,” Marlene said quietly. The room had fallen silent with nerves at Harry’s escape. Emmeline was actually chewing her nails.

“’I’ve forgotten Hedwig!’ … ‘See you next summer!’”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter and Fabian grinned with relief. Molly had raised good boys, though that was never really in doubt.

The twins were just over a year old at this point, and Fabian knew that Molly was running herself ragged, taking care of them, Percy who was just three, and of course seven-year-old Charlie and nine-year-old Bill. He couldn’t imagine what possessed his sister to have another two children on top of that, but he couldn’t be more grateful for his nephews – and his eventual his niece.

“The Weasley’s roared with laughter and Harry settled back in his seat, grinning from ear to ear. … ‘What do you think he was lying to me?’ … ‘Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?’”

“They think Draco sent Dobby as – what? A practical joke?” Emmeline asked, a little astonished.

Sirius grimaced. “It’s possible. I wouldn’t put it past him.” Fabian considered it. He’d never met a House elf personally, but he couldn’t imagine using one to steal letters from someone else as a prank. Though, that might have been more to his aversion towards the idea of ordering anything around that didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“He seemed genuine though. Dobby I mean,” Benjy said, small frown on his dark features. Sirius only shrugged.

“’Yes,’ … ‘He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who.’ … ‘Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who’s inner circle.’”

“Arthur’s smart,” Gideon said quietly. No one in the room seemed surprised by the news. It was common knowledge how close Malfoy was to Voldemort. Fabian stole a glance at the two Death Eaters in the pub. Snape wasn’t looking at anyone. He seemed determine to sit through this entire experience in silent protest. Fabian supposed story time was at least preferable to Azkaban, where he assumed the man would go when they were done, all the proof they needed on his left forearm.

Regulus Black was a different matter. There had been scattered reports of recruiting happening inside Hogwarts, but nothing had ever been confirmed. Regulus was still a student, anyways, not much use to Voldemort. Fabian simply couldn’t imagine a child in Voldemort’s service. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to. But there was little question about what the younger Black would be doing when he graduated. Which side he would find himself on.

“Harry had heard rumors about Malfoy’s family before, and they didn’t surprise him at all. … Had Harry been stupid to take Dobby seriously?”

“It’s worth taking the warning, even if it is false,” Caradoc said gravely.

“’I’m glad we came to get you, anyway,’ … ‘It’s wonderful,’ said Harry happily, thinking of Privet Drive. … The other three wheeled around.”

“Here we go,” Gideon said.

“Oh, I love her,” Fabian added wistfully.

“But – “

“Screech of a Banshee, that woman – “

“Sometimes I wish it were a Banshee’s scream – “

“If only then to escape.”

The brothers laughed good naturedly.

“Mrs. Weasley came marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a sabertooth tiger. … ‘YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!’ … ‘I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,’ she said. ‘Come in and have some breakfast.’”

James snorted out a laugh, which seemed to be most people response to Molly’s tirade, Gideon and Fabian sharing fond looks. A few people in the room looked perturbed, Regulus Black among them, staring at Sirius while he read the book as if he had grown a second head.

Molly’s love had a tendency to be loud. Fabian might describe it as stifling if he were in a poor mood. She was over-bearing and nosy and always thought she knew best. She was the best big sister he could ask for. He glanced over at Gideon.

“We need to visit her soon,” Fabian said fondly. Gideon glanced over, a little surprised before his face broke out into a wide grin.

“She turned and walked back into the house and Harry, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her. … ‘They were starving him, Mum!’ … ‘My sister. She’s been talking about you all summer.’”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Marlene said fondly.

Dorcas shook her head. “I hope they don’t tease her about it.”

James frowned. “Tease her about what?” The girls all stared at him incredulously.

“You don’t know?” Emmeline asked, as if to confirm. James shook his head, mystified. He wasn’t alone. Sirius was frowning at the book and Peter was glancing questioningly at Remus. The girls laughed.

“Oh, dear. I’ll tell you later, alright,” Lily said condescendingly. James huffed in acknowledgement.

“’Yeah, she’ll be wanting your autograph, Harry,’ … ‘Now let’s see what Lockhart’s got to say on the subject – ‘”

Fabian groaned. “Oh no, not him. Don’t tell me he actually publishes.”

“Who?” Edgar asked curiously. Gideon answered this time.

“Gilderoy Lockhart. A few years above us. Absolute nonce he was. A prick too. Never had a single original thought.”

“He’s been going on about writing some story about a vampire he met in Greece. It’s complete horseshit,” Fabian complained. Gideon snorted next to him.

“Last time he told it; it was Russian.” Fabian rolled his eye. He would eat his own wand if that story was true. It changed every time Lockhart told it.

“And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantlepiece. … ‘Mum facies him.’”

“Oh, I forgot Molly used to think he was fit,” Gideon groaned into his hands. “I suppose it’s hopeless to think she outgrew that?”

“I don’t understand how any woman could stand talking to him for longer than they had to,” Fabian shook his head.

“’Don’t be ridiculous Fred,’ … ‘LIKE CARS FOR INSTANCE?’”

“Bad luck, mate,” Gideon murmured.

“Mrs. Weasley appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. … ‘Did it go alright?’”

Fabian chuckled at Arthur’s clear excitement. He remembered thinking that, when Molly finally introduced him to the family. Arthur’s energy could be unmatched when he was interested. Fabian envied that sort of passion.

“’I – I mean,’ … ‘The Chudley Cannons,’ said Ron.’”

“Excellent taste,” James cut in approvingly. Marlene was shaking her head.

“Oh, you’re going to be absolutely insufferable about this aren’t you?”

James only grinned.

“’Ninth in the league.”

“What?” James asked, dismayed. Marlene let out a loud laugh, doubling over. Fabian has seen her wearing a Harpies jersey before, and he figured she was reveling in James’s apparent pain. Sirius started chuckling as well beside James and James gave him a hard shove. “Don’t gloat. Tosser. I bet the Falcons are no better.”

“Hard to be worse,” Sirius teased good-naturedly.

“Ron’s school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. … Ron’s ears went pink.”

Fabian smiled softly at Harry’s appreciation of the Burrow. He had known that as soon as Molly saw the boy, a lonely child struggling to find his way to Platform 9 ¾ , she had opened her heart to another child immediately. It was just how she was.

“Who wants to read next?” Sirius asked, glancing around the room.

“Give it here,” Alice said with a smile, taking the book from Sirius and settling in beside Frank.

“Chapter Four,” she read. “At Flourish and Blotts.”

Chapter Text

Lily felt herself relaxing as Harry described the Burrow, settling into the home for what would hopefully be the remainder of the summer. If she thought too long about how Petunia was treating her child. Her sister …

It had been a while since Lily and Petunia had spoken, even longer since they’d had a positive conversation. Petunia had left the moment she turned eighteen, moving into her boyfriend-at-the-time, Vernon’s apartment near university. But even before Petunia had left, the pair hardly spoke. Lily had begun dreading going home for the holidays, knowing that no matter how hard her parents worked to pretend everything was fine, a coldness permeated the air of the Evans’ house, even in the midst of summer.

Lily struggled to remember now, those two little girls who would play at the park every day, who shared dolls. It had been a long time since Lily had sought the comfort of her older sister’s room in the middle of the night, stuffed bear clutched in her arms.

It had been a long time since Lily had felt like she had a sister. So why did this hurt so much?

“Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life at Privet Drive.” Alice began and Lily tried to force herself to relax at the sound of her friend’s voice. A reminder, at least, that this wasn’t real. But it could be. It was a possibility. A future they could prevent.

“You alright?” the low voice of Remus Lupin had Lily jumping a little and when she glanced over at her friend, he had a troubled look on her face.

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she promised.

Remus frowned, looking ready to argue that point, but before he could start, Alice continued to read.

“The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; … ‘Fascinating!’ he would say as Harry talked him through using a telephone. ‘Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic.’”

Gideon let out a low chuckle and smiled fondly at the book. “Sounds like Arthur hasn’t changed a bit,” he said sadly. Lily felt a lump growing in her throat.

None of them had really spoken about it, almost afraid. As if bringing it up would make the future described in these books all the more real. The future that Lily wasn’t a part of. That Fabian and Gideon would never see. Her eyes glanced over to Marlene, to Edgar Bones. James, sitting next to her, leaned back in his chair, watching Alice read.

“Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at the Burrow. … She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn’t noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.”

“Oh, poor girl,” Marlene muttered under her breath. “It gets better, love.” Lily smiled, shaking her head, thankful at least, that Harry seemed as oblivious as most of the other boys in the room.

Dorcas snorted next to Marlene.

“I do not recall it getting better,” she shook her head. Marlene grinned.

“’Letters from school,’ … Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Benjy Fenwick groaned loudly. “There is only one person I know who would assign that many Gilderoy Lockhart books pretending that they are textbooks and I am really hoping I’m wrong.”

Gideon was shaking his head as well. “He would be an even worse professor than Mr. Gnosh, from fifth year.”

Sirius frowned at that. “I liked Professor Gnosh,” he said, slightly offended and Remus rolled his eyes.

“You only liked him because he let you and James get away with everything.” Remus said.

Sirius looked at him, aghast. “Well, sure. And he was great for it!”

“Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry’s … -- bet it’s a witch.”

Emmeline scoffed. “Please,” she said.

“At this point, Fred caught his mother’s eyes and quickly busied himself with the marmalade. … They took turns riding Harry’s Numbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron’s old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.”

James shook his head. “The Shooting Stars always wear out after three or four years, those broom aren’t worth the parchment they come it.”

Frank nodded mournfully. “I remember I got one my third year when I was trying out for the team. It only went half the brand’s alleged max speed by the end of the season.”

“That’s because they don’t treat the wood,” Marlene complained. “They should ban any oak brooms. The charms wear-off far too quickly.”

Lily was frowning, barely following the conversation at all. She had gotten to watching Quidditch, even following most of the teams, but there were still things about the sport she just didn’t quite understand.

“Why are different brooms allowed if their speeds vary that much?” she asked. “Why not have a standard broom that’s all the same speed. Wouldn’t that be more fair?”

She always thought that paying more for faster brooms was another way to keep Quidditch exclusive. There were so few Muggleborn players on the House teams, much less the larger Quidditch league, and this felt like simply another reason. But Marlene was shaking her head.

“Speed is one thing. What’s far more important is control, and faster brooms are much more difficult to maneuver reliably.”

Lily furrowed her brow, mouth open to contest this, when Dorcas broke in.

“Think of it like gears on a bike, yeah. The higher the gear, the fast your bike goes, but the harder it is to pedal. A lower gear might be easier to pedal, but the bike goes much slower.”

That actually made far more sense to Lily than anything anyone else had said so far. “Different gears are better for different situations,” Lily said, finally nodding. Dorcas was smiling a bit, but Marlene was looking at her girlfriend in utter shock.

“How the bloody hell do you know that?” Marlene asked. Dorcas gave her a smug smile.

“Got a subscription to Quidditch weekly,” Dorcas said. Marlene squealed.

“You – what? For me?” she asked. Dorcas gave her a look.

“No, you idiot, for James – obviously for you!”

Marlene gave her a kiss on the cheek that had Dorcas’s cheeks flush red.

“You’re the best,” Marlene said, still glowing. Dorcas grumbled next to her but clearly looked pleased.

“Five minutes later,” Alice started in again, “they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. … twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all. … He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; he didn’t think their horror of anything connected to magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.”

Lily felt a pit growing in her stomach as she realized Harry was probably right. The mention of her sister again felt like cold water had been doused over her head. A bitter reminder of Petunia’s actions.

Lily had always held up some hope that her and Petunia could reconcile, could maybe get some semblance of the relationship they’d had as children back. But Lily could barely think of even looking at her sister now, after all of this. It wasn’t real – not in the technical sense of the word. But it was a possibility. A future that Lily couldn’t even pretend was all too far-fetched. She couldn’t recognize her sister in these pages, but it’d been a long time since she had been able to recognize her sister at all.

She felt sick at the thought.

A warm hand slipped into hers and she glanced up to the worried face of her husband. She sighed, offering James a tired smile that he seemed to understand immediately.

“Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. … And she offered him the flowerpot. … ‘W-What am I supposed to do?’ he stammered.”

“I suppose that would be a little strange if you didn’t know about the Floo Network,” mused Sirius next to her.

“A little strange,” Remus shook his head.

“’He’s never traveled by Floo powder,’ said Ron suddenly. ‘Sorry, Harry, I forgot.’ … ‘D-Dia-gon Alley’”

There was a beat of silence.

“Well that probably didn’t go well,” Remus said with a frown.

“He could end up anywhere!” Lily immediately started panicking. It was easy to get lost in the Floo Network. Lily had once tried to step out early and had been kicked to Cokeworth. She had only been trying to travel local in London. Lily hated the Floo network, much preferring to simply Apparate. At least that was something she had control over.

Sirius was frowning. “He’ll probably be pretty close. At least he got the address out.”

“Arthur and Molly will find him,” Fabian said reassuringly, sounding absolutely certain of it. Lily clenched her teeth, staring nervously at the book in Alice’s hands.

“It felt as though he were being sucked down a giant drain. … Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.”

“Sounds like Knockturn,” Sirius said darkly. Lily felt a wave of panic. She’s only been to the dingy group of shops once before and knew it was no place for a child, especially an unaccompanied one. She prayed that Molly or Arthur would think to check the surrounding area. Knockturn was at least nearby Diagon Alley, only a false street over, but that was doing little to calm her nerves.

“Sounds like he’s in Borgin and Burke’s,” Regulus said, distant gaze focused on nothing in particular.

Lily frowned, knowing the shop was renowned for Dark objects. She’d never cared much herself to go inside, however. She supposed it made sense Regulus Black would recognize it, though, and she tried not to be bitter about that thought. Sirius clearly didn’t share her discretion, glaring openly at his brother.

“At least he’s close to Diagon Alley,” Caradoc said thoughtfully. “And despite its reputation, Borgin and Burke’s isn’t the worst shop he could have ended up in.”

“The sooner he got out of here, the better.” Alice started again, reading with more urgency. “Nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth, Harry made his way swiftly and silently to the door, … Draco Malfoy.”

“This is trouble,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

“Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; … The man who followed could only be Draco’s father.”

Moody and a few other the others leaned forward, almost expectantly. Lily’s heart was pounding in her chest, knowing her son was trapped in an unfamiliar place, alone, with a known Death Eater.

It was somehow different, Harry near Lucius Malfoy, than when Harry was near Severus. Maybe it was because Harry had been at Hogwarts when he was near Severus. Or maybe it had been because, despite everything, Lily was still not ready to admit that someone who used to be her friend (her best friend) was capable of that kind of evil. But be it delusion or denial, this simply felt different. Lily wanted to jump into the book in Alice hands and yank her son away from Lucius Malfoy.

“He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, grey eyes. … ‘And I would remind you that it is not – prudent – to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear – ah, Mr. Borgin.”

Moody snorted. “Coward,” the old Auror said disdainfully.

“No wonder he escaped Azkaban, the slimy snake,” Sirius shook his head in disgust. “I can’t believe it.”

“Money and fast talking,” Dorcas said with a frown.

“A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face. … ‘The Ministry wouldn’t presume to trouble you, sir, surely?’ … ‘no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it – ‘”

Fabian let out a sudden laugh.

“Oh, the highest of compliments,” Gideon grinned.

“To be insulted by that prick.”

“Remind me to get Arthur something nice for the holidays,” Gideon laughed.

“Harry felt a hot surge of anger. … ‘Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere – ‘ ‘Not with me,’ said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.”

Marlene scoffed in disgust. Lily sat back, wishing she were more surprised by the words. It had taken her the better part of five years at Hogwarts for her to fully understand that it was always her blood that would be seen first, no matter that she bled as red as any pureblood.

She forced herself not to look over to where she knew Severus sat. Maybe she should thank him, after all. Sure, it had been him to assure her that she was no different due to her parentage, but it had also been him to teach her that was all people would ever see.

Her gaze flickered over and she found dark eyes, already looking into her own. Her jaw was welded shut and she held the gaze, unblinking.

Does it make a difference, being Muggleborn?

No. It doesn’t make any difference.

Severus looked away first.

“’No, sir, nor with me, sir,’ said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow. … ‘HARRY! What d’’yeh think yer doing’ down there?’”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” James whispered next to her and Lily watched the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Harry’s heart leapt. … ‘Molly’s frantic – she’s coming now – ‘ … ‘Excellent!’ said Fred and George together. … ‘Oh, I’d love to get Lucius Malfoy for something …”

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Fabian said.

“He’d better be careful though,” Emmeline said, frowning. “Malfoy isn’t an enemy you want. Voldemort or no.”

Fabian shrugged Emmeline’s worry off but Gideon nodded thoughtfully. Lily thought that Emmeline had a point. The Malfoy may have been newer money in comparison to say, the Blacks, that that meant little to Ministry officials. Money was money and when that money was greasing hands or in the pockets of Wizengots members, well, the Malfoy's had plenty of it to spare.

“’You be careful, Arthur,’ said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. … ‘A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers,’ Ron read aloud off the back cover. ‘That sounds fascinating … ‘”

Honestly, Lily thought that the book did sound at least a little interesting, but what caught her eyes was Regulus Black, frowning and leaning forward slightly in his seat. There seemed odd moments in the story that seemed to catch the boy’s attention, where he would startle into a strange reaction.

“’Go away,’ Percy snapped. … ‘I mean, he’s written almost the whole booklist!’”

There seemed some grumbling from the Ravenclaw contingent again, Benjy nearly glaring at the book, as if it personally offended.

“The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley’s age. … ‘It can’t be Harry Potter?’”

“Oh, he better not,” Emmeline said lowly. Before Lily could ask what she meant, Alice continued reading.

“The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; … ‘Together you and I are worth the front page.’”

Lily fought the urge to smack the book out of Alice’s hands. Harry was clearly uncomfortable with the attention. It was almost painful, to be forced to sit and listen to it, without being able to intervene.

“When he finally let go of Harry’s hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. … ‘I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!’”

“I knew it,” groaned Benjy, head in his hands. “That position truly is cursed.”

“Merlin, how long has it been since a professor has lasted more than a year?” Emmeline complained.

“1967,” Caradoc answered suddenly. “Patricia Rakepick retired. Haven’t had a steady professor since,” he shook his head.

Lily knew from Edgar that Patricia Rakepick had been one of the first members of the Order, and old friend of Caradoc’s and Professor McGonagall’s. But she’d been killed shortly after by Voldemort himself. Some of the older members of the Order looked solemn, remembering the woman.

“It’s been that long?” Dorcas cut it, frowning. “This is – what? 1992? Twenty-five years without a teacher lasting more than one? That’s mad.”

Lily frowned as well. That was an outrageous amount of time to go without a consistent professor, especially for a class as vitally important as Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was never Lily’s favorite, that being Charms, but they were graduating into a world rife with war. A war that apparently had only been put on hold for a decade.

“It does appear that the position remains cursed,” Dumbledore said gravely. Lily glanced at him, almost in surprise. It was a rumor, she knew, in school, that the position was cursed, but she’d always thought that was just gossip. Similar to Professor Binns being a Death Echo, and not a true ghost. She never put much stock into it, but Dumbledore spoke of the curse as if it were real.

Edgar Bones frowned. “I know the Ministry sent a handful of curse-breakers out there a few years ago,” he said. “They weren’t able to help?”

This was news to Lily, but Dumbledore only shook his head.

“I’m afraid they weren’t able to find anything of substance.”

Caradoc was sitting forward now. “They couldn’t find a way to break the curse?” he asked.

“They couldn’t find a curse,” Dumbledore said. McGonagall watched Dumbledore sadly, seeming to understand more of what the Headmaster was talking about. Lily was still struggling to decipher the conversation.

“I don’t get it,” she finally asked. “Is there a curse or isn’t there?” Lily looked expectantly around the room, but it didn’t seem that anyone had an answer for her.

“Perhaps we should continue to read,” McGonagall said. “Mrs. Longbottom?”

Alice jumped a little, taking a moment to find the spot she left off.

“The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. … ‘Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!’ said Ginny.”

“Oh, I like her,” Marlene said under her breath with a smile.

“It was the first time she had spoken in front of Harry. … ‘I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all of those.’”

Lily could practically see the amount of willpower Gideon and Fabian were using to not curse a twelve-year old boy. Lily sort of wanted to shout at him herself.

“Ron went as red as Ginny. … ‘All those raids … I hope they’re paying you overtime?’ … There was a thud of metal as Ginny’s cauldron went flying; … ‘Get him, Dad!’”

Next to Lily, Sirius snorted, seeming amused. "Surprised he got his polished hands dirty," he said lowly.

Elsewhere, in the Hog’s Head, there was a clear murmur of encouragement coming from most of the room. Fabian had a gleam of pride in his eyes watching the book, but next to them, Benjy was shaking his head.

“Oh no,” he muttered. “I’m not sure that was the smartest decision from Arthur.” Benjy bit his lip nervously. Fabian rolled his eyes, looking a little defensive.

“Arthur will be fine,” he said sharply. Gideon glanced at his brother cautiously, almost like he was looking for his own reassurances.

Emmeline made a face. “I don’t know, Fab. Lucius Malfoy isn’t someone to mess with,” she added.

Lily understood what the pair was getting at. Lucius Malfoy was a prick, but a dangerous one. Lily couldn’t help but hope the Weasley’s and Harry got away from that particular family.

“Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, ‘No Arthur, no!’ … He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice. … It definitely wasn’t his favorite way to travel.”

“That was stupid, but everyone seems fine,” Peter said quietly, fear leaking into his shaky voice. Lily thought he was saying it more for his own benefit that anyone else’s. Lily wasn’t reassured in the slightest. If Lucius Malfoy wanted to get back at Arthur, he would, and nothing as simple as a judgmental book crowd was going to stop him.

Lily gave an anxious glance at the Prewetts’s, whose now worried faces told Lily they were thinking the same. Fabian might not have had an issue with Arthur punching Lucius Malfoy, but he was clearly more worried about the consequences than he was letting on. Or maybe it was Gideon’s apprehension seeping into his brother.

“I’ll read next,” Frank said in a strained voice from beside Alice. He took the book from her hands, flipping to the next page and frowning.

“Chapter Five,” he read. “The Whomping Willow.”

Lily heard a sharp intake of breath next to her and she glanced over to see Remus looking unusually pale. Next to him, Sirius shot his friend a concerned look.

Lily didn’t know how she was going to make it through much more of this.

Chapter Text

Remus clenched his jaw when the title chapter was read. He’d always had a difficult relationship with that tree, planted the summer before he first went to Hogwarts. He remembered Dumbledore explaining it to him, when he and his father went out to test the precautions his old headmaster had put in place for the full moons. The tree had scared him, then, at eleven.

He’d made fonder memories of the tree since. Mornings after the full moon, stolen before Poppy Pomfrey came through the tunnel to help him back to the Hospital Wing. Nights he couldn’t remember turning into mornings he would never forget. But hearing the tree mentioned now, in this cursed story, cold fear washed over Remus.

“You okay?” Sirius asked, voice low. Without Remus’s werewolf hearing, he might not have heard it. His throat was tight, but he managed a small nod, not even glancing over.

Sirius sighed, but didn’t push.

“The end of the summer vacation came too quickly for Harry’s liking.” Frank began, shaking Remus from his thoughts. “He was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but this month at the burrow had been the happiest of his life.”

Remus caught Lily’s bittersweet smile in the corner of his gaze. Her green eyes were wet with unshed tears. Remus felt sick thinking about it.

“It was difficult not to feel jealous of Ron when he thought of the Dursleys and the sort of welcome he could expect next time he turned up on Privet Drive.”

Remus felt the lump in his throat grow as Lily rested her head on James’s shoulder, closing her eyes against the words. He knew Lily’s relationship with her sister had long since been strained, but this was something else entirely. Remus knew, better than most, how families could unintentionally hurt you. But this wasn’t that. This was Sirius pulling him to the side first year, saying he understood, a sad look in his steel grey eyes that Remus didn’t think he could ever forget.

Misunderstanding Remus’s scars and sharing his own. Thin white lines, crisscrossing on the back of his hands. Remus couldn’t get the image out of his mind. Sirius’s usually vibrant face dulling when the Hogwarts Express pulled into King’s Cross. This was not unintentional.

“On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry’s favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding.”

Remus couldn’t hold back a smile this time, stealing a glance at the Prewett twins who shared their own knowing look. It was clear to Remus that Molly had immediately picked up on Harry’s thin frame and set to work on a treatment plan. It reminded him of the way James’s parents always loaded him up with leftovers any time he visited.

“Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; … ‘Not a word to Molly,’ he whispered to Harry as he opened the trunk and showed him how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.”

Fabian chuckled. “Man’s playing with fire,” he said fondly.

“When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably, side by side and said, ‘Muggles do know more that we give them credit for, don’t they?’”

Remus felt a pang in his heart. He was reminded of his mother, insisting on washing the dishes even after a cleaning charm, on tending to her garden even though his father offered her potted Quick-Grow. Hope Lupin loved simple things and even after months within the enchanted walls of Hogwarts, Remus found magic just as easily in their small cottage in Cardiff.

Dorcas smiled sadly as well. There was a distinct air of uncomfortableness in the room when Muggles and blood purity had been discussed in the books so far. No one, it seemed willing to shatter the fragile peace everyone seemed to agree upon with two Death Eaters sitting in the room. But more than that, even the Order had tried to step back from discussing politics too much. War wasn’t a place for nuance.

“She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. … ‘No one would see – this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed –‘”

“Wicked,” Sirius breathed out under his breath. Remus refrained from rolling his eyes. Sirius had been fixing up a motorbike, likely the one mentioned in the story yesterday, with Monty before he passed. Since the older man’s death, Sirius had become nearly obsessed with the project. The last thing he needed were more ideas.

“’ – that’d get us up in the air – then we fly above the clouds.’ … CRASH.”

“What?” James sat forward suddenly, Lily jerking her head from his shoulder. Remus frowned at the book.

“Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; … ‘What in the blazes d’you think you’re doing?’”

“I don’t understand,” James said, panic in his voice. “What happened?”

Caradoc was frowning. “It sounds like the barrier closed.”

Lily’s eyes were blown wide. “Is that even possible?”

“It can’t close before the train leaves. Surely, the Weasleys got him there in enough time,” Sirius said, frown in his voice. Remus shook his head, mystified.

“Even after the train, don’t people have to exit?” Marlene asked, her voice high. No one had an explanation, though, so Frank kept reading.

“’Lost control of the trolley,’ Harry gasped, … ‘I don’t understand why the gateway’s sealed itself – ‘”

“It’s got to be Malfoy,” Sirius interrupted suddenly, face hard. Someone in the front of the room snorted.

“How though?” Remus asked, before Sirius could spin around. “Even Lucius wouldn’t have access to Ministry warding at King’s Cross.” Sirius was already shaking his head.

“I don’t know how he did it, but he did.”

Remus was still frowning. “It just doesn’t make sense –“ he started and Sirius slammed his fist into the table, cutting him off.

“Why are you defending him?” he snapped, glaring and Remus had to blink in surprise. It took him a moment – longer than it should have – for the implication of Sirius’s question to sink. Then he felt his anger rising, face going hot.

“I’m not –“ he ground out, voice surprisingly calm. “I’m only saying it doesn’t make sense that Lucius could have closed the barrier.”

“Since when the hell do you call him Lucius?” Sirius sneered, twisting the name in his mouth. The pair glared at each other.

“Alright, stop it,” James snapped, leaning between them. Remus broke his gaze away. Sirius had been like this ever since Remus had started leaving for longer missions at the start of the year. Voldemort has stepped up his attempts to recruit the Northern packs and Remus been away more often than he was home. Of course, whenever he was home, Sirius always seemed in a foul mood either way.

Sirius finally dropped his glare as well, managing to look somewhat sheepish.

“Frank, please continue,” James said, disappoint evident in his tone. He’ll make an excellent father, Remus thought.

And he was going to make sure James got the chance.

“Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. … ‘What are we going to do?’”

“Just stay there and wait for Arthur and Molly,” Lily muttered, as if Harry or Ron might actually hear her. Much less listen.

“’I don’t know how long it’ll take Mum and Dad to get back to us.’”

“It shouldn’t matter,” Benjy said with a frown. “The school will send someone to pick them up if they missed the train. They’ll just need to owl.”

Dorcas placed her head in her hands. “This is James’s kid we’re talking about. You think he’s going to come up with a reasonable solution to this?”

“Hey,” James said, but he sounded more proud than offended.

“They looked around. … ‘The car!’”

“Oh no,” Lily said.

“Oh yes,” Marlene said, eyes gleaming.

“’What about it?’ … ‘C’mon, let’s go. If we hurry we’ll be able to follow the Hogwarts Express –‘”

“That’s got to be the stupidest –“ Dorcas started.

“Shh,” Marlene hushed her girlfriend, outright grinning. “This is going to be great.” Remus shared a smile with Peter and James and Sirius begun laughing. Lily was shaking her head but seemed resigned to her fate.

“And they marched off through the crowd of curious Muggles, out of the station and back onto the side road where the old Ford Anglia was parked. … ‘Okay,’ he said.”

“I feel like we’re glossing over that this is outrageously illegal,” Emmeline said. Sirius grinned over at her.

“That’s what makes it fun,” he said, and Remus couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips, earlier fight nearly forgotten. Sirius had a way of doing that to him, making him forget his anger with nothing more than a look.

“Oh lord,” Lily groaned into her hands as she covered her face.

“Ron pressed a tiny silver button on the dashboard. … ‘It’s faulty –‘ Both of them pummeled it.”

Lily sucked in a sharp breath. Remus had been a part of many hairbrained pranks and plans during his school days, but this had him on the edge of his seat. He took comfort in the length of the book, at least a couple hundred unread pages left. Surely, Harry would be fine.

“The car vanished. … ‘Right ahead – there!’”

“I hate this,” Lily bemoaned. James rubbed her shoulders, fighting a smile.

“They’ll be fine, love,” he said.

“I’m sure Arthur’s charm work will hold up,” Gideon muttered absentmindedly under his breath. Fabian was chewing his lip.

“The Hogwarts Express was streaking along below them like a scarlet snake. … Why hadn’t they been able to get onto platform nine and three-quarters?”

“That would have taken powerful magic,” Dorcas said tentatively, clearly worried about bringing about the topic again.

“The Ministry would have put up precautions against something as simple as a barrier spell,” Edgar added, clearly thinking through the problem himself. Remus didn’t understand it either. Most of the room seemed to be thinking through the problem, wondering how someone might have messed with the Ministry’s wards. Surely it wasn’t simply a mistake. The time where Remus would have believed in coincidences had long since passed.

Remus glanced over, perhaps on instinct, at Dumbledore who looked just as thoughtful as the rest of them. If their old Headmaster didn’t have a clue – Remus’s vision snagged on something, a strange gleam in Regulus Black’s eyes. The younger boy had been relatively engaged in the reading, but he was sitting back, sharing a look with Pandora Lovegood while the others speculated. Remus frowned.

“’Can’t be much further, can it?’ … Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances.”

“How sure are you about his charms?” Lily asked nervously, glancing over at Gideon. Gideon’s widened eyes stared back.

“Got an OWL?” Gideon said.

“Didn’t qualify for NEWTs,” Fabian added unhelpfully, staring intently at the book.

“I’m sure he was careful when charming the car,” Gideon sounded like he was trying to reassure himself.

“The car he spelled with the specific intent to never use?” Lily’s voice was pitched with panic. Neither Prewett would meet her eyes.

“’It’s probably just tired,’ said Ron. … They were over the lake – the castle was right ahead – Ron put his foot down.”

Remus let out a relieved breath. They were fine.

“There was a loud clunk, a splutter, and the engine died completely.”

Lily let out a strangled scream, hand flying to her mouth. Remus reflexively gripped the first thing he could fine – which just happened to be Sirius’s own hand. Sirius squeezed back, grounding him.

“’Uh-oh,’ said Ron, into the silence. … ‘WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!’”

This time, it was Remus who choked, understanding in that moment, what was about to happen.

“Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but too late – CRUNCH.”

“Oh Godric,” James said under his breath. “They need to get out of there.” Remus didn’t like the hint of fear in his friend’s voice. James shouldn’t sound like that. James never sounded like that. The last time James had sounded like that …

Remus felt bile rise in his throat. He was eleven and holding the hand of Poppy Pomfrey while she walked him off school grounds. He was fifteen and laying in a cot in the hospital wing, feeling like he had just woken up to his worst nightmare. He was fifteen and James was at the foot of his bed, shuffled away in the corner, dread and betrayal building in Remus’s chest with equal fervor. And James had looked so scared.

Whatever happened in the book next, Remus couldn’t help but feel it was all his fault. He was the reason that damned tree was there.

“With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt.”

“It’s going to be so angry,” Peter whispered. Remus clenched his jaw. The tree had likely only gotten larger and angrier in ten years time.

“Steam was billowing from under the crumpled hood; … It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.”

Emmeline let out a sympathetic hiss.

“Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they’d be able to mend it up at the school, … Its trunk was bent almost double, and its gnarled boughs were pummeling every inch of the car it could reach.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sirius said, so low Remus could hardly hear him, and no one else surely could. With just a glance at Sirius, Remus knew that his own guilt was evident on his face.

“It sort of is though,” Remus muttered, just as quietly, shaking his head. Dumbledore’d had the tree planted to hide the secret passage for Remus. It was, quite literally, all his fault. If Harry got hurt …

“If the Willow wasn’t there, they would have crashed into the ground with nothing to break their fall. That your fault too?” Sirius asked, his voice was hard, grey eyes blazing defiantly in a way that made it impossible for Remus to meet them. Remus looked away.

“’Aaargh!’ … they could hear its roots creaking as it almost ripped itself up, lashing out at them as they sped out of reach.”

Sirius gave Remus’s hand another squeeze, which was the first time, since Remus grabbed it, that he remembered he had Sirius’s hand in a death grip. He forced himself to let go, taking a deep breath now that Harry was out of danger.

“’That,’ panted Ron, ‘was close.’ … ‘Dad’ll kill me!’”

Gideon choked out a relieved laugh. “A little rusty, but overall, terrific charm work.” James let out a shaky chuckle. It seemed out of relief more than anything else.

“But the car disappeared from view with one last snort from its exhaust. … ‘There’s an empty chair at the staff table … Where’s Snape?’”

“Of course,” James muttered under his breath, glaring at the man in question. Snape’s alleged good intentions during the last book seemed to do very little to temper the animosity between the Marauders and Snape, who sat mostly stoically at the front of the room. Remus had no idea what possessed Dumbledore to vouch for the man. When he was a student, it was a different story. But Snape had been a confirmed Death Eater for over a year now. He helped kill the Jones family over the summer, and that was only what they could confirm. And yet, there he was, as casual as ever, sitting in the Hog’s Head, staring openly at every member of the order, participating in the most deranged story time of Remus’s life.

There was no way it could end well.

Luckily, Frank kept reading.

“Professor Severus Snape was Harry’s least favorite teacher. … ‘Or maybe,’ said a very cold voice eight behind them, ‘he’s waiting to hear why you two didn’t arrive on the school train.’”

“Fucking brilliant,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

“Harry spun around. … ‘Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys?’”

“The bloody barrier was tampered with,” Sirius snapped at Snape, like he could answer for his words in the book. Snape sneered back at him.

“As we’ve already discussed there were plenty of alternatives available.”

“We should be more focused on who closed the barrier,” Sirius’s voice was hard. Snape narrowed his eyes.

“They broke the law,” Snape taunted. “Like father like son, I suppose.” His eyes glittered dangerously.

James’s chair screeched back, like he was about to get out of his seat while Sirius snarled back, “You’re one to talk, Death Eater.”

Lily’s hand flew to James’s arm, pulling him back in his seat.

“Both of you sit down,” she snapped, and Sirius fell back into his seat as well, more from shock than anything else.

“Mr. Longbottom?” Dumbledore asked, his own bright eyes sharp at the outburst. Putting Sirius, James, and Snape in a room together was like throwing a lit wand in a fireplace. There was only one way this would end.

“’No sir, it was the barrier at King’s Cross, it – ‘ … ‘You were seen,’ … ‘Dear, dear … his own son …’”

Fabian’s darkened gaze turned on Snape as well at the mention of Arthur. Gideon was fighting nervously in his seat, eyes trained on the book in Frank’s grip.

“Harry felt as though he’d just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree’s larger branches. … ‘You will wait here.’”

“Dumbledore won’t expel them,” Peter said, trying for a reassuring smile. James glanced gratefully at him.

Snape scoffed quietly eyes flickering immediately to Remus. “Of course not,” he sneered. Remus went cold, he could feel the blood drain from his face, and he glanced away, unable to meet Snape’s eyes. Shame tore at him stomach.

“You – “ Sirius started but this time it was Remus who cut in.

“Stop it,” he said, voice low. All the same, Sirius heard him and immediately cut himself off, shooting Remus a betrayed look he had absolutely no right to use. Remus looked away.

“Harry and Ron stared at each other, white-faced. … ‘Explain,’ she said, her glasses glinting ominously.”

Remus stole a glance at McGonagall now, her lips similarly thin, though her anger didn’t seem to be directed at anyone in particular. She sat rigid in her chair.

“Ron launched into the story, starting with the barrier at the station refusing to let them through. … ‘That,’ said Professor McGonagall, ‘is obvious.’”

McGonagall’s anger seemed to cow most of the room, sobering everyone very quickly. Marlene was nervously chewing her nails.

“There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it. … ‘Not today, Mr. Weasley,’ said Dumbledore.”

Remus felt himself relax. Him, James, Sirius, and Peter had gotten into far more trouble during their school years and hadn’t been expelled but he still appreciated the confirmation. Most of the room seemed to let out a collective breath.

“’But I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done.’ … ‘Your sister is also in Gryffindor.’”

Fabian let out a triumphant laugh, cutting the tension in the room. “Seven for seven,” he shook his head.

Gideon groaned theatrically. “I never stood a chance.”

“’Oh, good,’ said Ron. … they heard hurrying feet behind them and turned to see Hermoine dashing toward them.”

“Oh, thank Salazar. The braincells have arrived,” Dorcas breathed good-naturedly. Marlene rolled her eyes next to her.

“’There you are!’ … ‘Brilliant!’ yelled Lee Jordan. … Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry could see one person one person who didn’t look happy at all.”

“Oh, Gryffindors never change, do they?” Lily asked, shaking her head. She seemed to have mostly gotten past the Whomping Willow fiasco. James grinned at her.

“May Godric see that they never do.”

“Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. … He grinned, too.”

Frank looked up as he finished reading, grinning softly. Most of the Gryffindors in the room seemed oddly pleased, much like the children in the book, about Harry and Ron’s adventures. Even Lily, who was taut with nerves, was looking in fond exasperation at the book. The story was oddly reminiscent of Remus’s own school days, spent in equal parts getting into trouble and worrying about trying to get his friends out.

“I can read again,” Marlene volunteered cheerfully, letting Frank hand her the book across the table. She flipped it open easily and settled back in her seat.

“Chapter Six. Gilderoy Lockhart."

Chapter Text

Gideon immediately groaned, dropping his head loudly on the table. This was going to be such a long book.

Gideon remembered most of his schoolmates at least somewhat fondly, though their numbers dwindled considerably as the years went on. He kept in contact with so few of them now, Benjy being the only one he ever saw regularly anymore. He supposed that was what happened in war. He knew some of his dormmates had fled to the Continent, or even as far as America when the war had started to get truly bad, not that it had been all that manageable to begin with. But as the years continued, and the death toll only grew more and more quickly, Gideon didn’t fault his housemates for losing hope.

Ravenclaw wasn’t exactly stranger to attracting the other side of the coin either. Gideon knew of a few true blood purists in his House, though the sentiment wasn’t as openly cultivated like it was in the Slytherin dormitories for instance. But that didn’t seem to matter all that much anymore. Merlin, thought Gideon, he only needed to look at the last book to get confirmation of that. Quirrell was no blood purist, he was only a pureblood by the technical definition of the Ministry – his grandmother had been a half-blood. But what he had been was interested in dark magic. It was a trait that was no stranger to the Ravenclaw House and while most could pass this off as an interest that was purely academical, many would argue that it was in practice that knowledge became wisdom.

“The next day, however, Harry barely grinned once.” Marlene read, drawing Gideon’s attention again. James sighed, rubbing a tired hand across his face. “Things started to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. … ‘Mail’s due any minute – I think Gran’s sending a few things I forgot.’”

Gideon stole a look at Alice and Frank, the former with a forlorn look on her face. It was messing with Gideon’s mind, hearing about Molly’s kids, especially Ron, whom he hadn’t even met yet, in such detail. He couldn’t imagine how Alice and Frank, or James and Lily for that matter, were dealing with this.

“Harry had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. … It looked quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they were expecting it to explode.”

Fabian let out a low whistle. “A bit harsh,” he said, shaking his head.

Gideon was rather inclined to agree, though he knew Molly’s anger likely came only from worry and stress. Molly had a tendency to get loud when she got scared. One of Gideon’s earliest memories was of him and Fabian nicking their father’s Quidditch broom, long before the pair were ready to graduate from training brooms and taking it to the field behind their house. Fabian swears there was an argument about who got to ride it first, which was ridiculous because if there was any disagreement, Gideon would have simply won by default of being the eldest. First come, first serve and all that. More likely, they decided to ride their first adult broom the same way they did everything at that age: together. There was an accident. They were too high off the ground. Gideon didn’t feel the arms around his waist disappear until it was too late. Molly had been home at the time. He doesn’t remember dragging Fabian half a mile home. He does remembers Molly’s screams.

“We ought to ban those,” a voice cut through his thoughts. Surprisingly, it was Professor McGonagall, shaking her head disapprovingly. The head of Gryffindor house had a strange glint in her eyes.

“’What’s the matter?’ … ‘YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.’”

“Ouch,” Emmeline muttered, looking at the book pityingly. Gideon knew that Ron was likely horrifically embarrassed, but it was the last line that truly stood out to him.

“Malfoy must have taken advantage of this,” his brother muttered darkly, and Gideon couldn’t help the surprised look he shot Fabian’s way. He joked about being the smart twin, but Fabian was a quicker thinker than Gideon gave him credit for.

“Was probably waiting for something like this,” Moody added gruffly, beady eyes trained on the book. Gideon felt a spark of fear for his brother-in-law that he tried to taper down. Arthur could handle himself, after all.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked with a frown.

“Ten galleons say Lucius is spearheading this little ‘inquiry,’” Sirius said, voice twisting around the word with a shake of his head. Gideon knew that the threats earlier in the book weren’t empty, but he was worried for Arthur.

“Only a fool would take that bet,” Gideon shook his head.

“A ringing silence fell. … After all the Weasleys had done for him over the summer…”

“Oh, it’s not their fault,” Gideon sighed. He understood how scared Molly must have been when she came back from the station to find the car gone, but he thought the Howler was a bit too far. In his and Fabian’s fifth year they found out how to spell the Howlers in the hall to the tune of old Motown songs. Walburga Black had once done a sparkling rendition of ‘What’s Going On.’

"But he had no time to dwell on this; … ‘Greenhouse three today!’ … ‘Harry! I’ve been wanting a word – you don’t mind if he’s a couple of minutes late, do you Professor Sprout?’”

“Nothing good will come of this,” Lily said, a distinctly peeved look on her face. She crossed her arms and settled on glaring at the book, as if that would make Gilderoy Lockhart back off.

“Judging by Professor Sprout’s scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, ‘That’s the ticket,’ and closed the greenhouse door in her face. … ‘Gave you a taste for publicity, didn’t I?’ said Lockhart. …’I know, I know – it’s not quite as good as winning Witch’s Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have – but it’s a start, Harry it’s a start.’” Marlene paused. “Merlin, he’s worse than Hadley,” she complained, referencing the Defense Professor in Gideon’s seventh year, her third. The man hadn’t been able to tell a Grindylow from grubbyworm, but Gideon still thinks he would have preferred that version of incompetence.

Gideon was developing a familiar headache. Lockhart had been nearly unbearable during their school years. He almost wouldn’t have believed it was possible for the other man to get worse.

“I already can’t stand him,” Lily said, face in her hands. A few people chuckled around the room, but Gideon noticed Snape glaring notably at James, though the other boy didn’t seem to notice.

“He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off. … ‘As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,’ she said calmly as though she’d done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. … ‘Justin Finch-Fletchley,’ he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. … Ron was having far worse problems. … ‘Stupid – useless – thing – ‘”

Gideon sighed sadly. “He needs a working wand,” he said, a little pointlessly. Even another used wand would be better at this point.

Fabian’s eyes had hardened. They both knew that Molly and Arthur didn’t have that sort of money. As progressive as the Prewett family was, that was mostly in comparison to other Sacred 28 families. Sure, Molly would never get disowned for her choice to marry Arthur, and their own parents didn’t care as long as she was happy, but Molly was still something of an outcast to their extended relatives. Whispers Gideon wouldn’t even pretend to ignore during family gatherings. This had, unfortunately, cost her any allowance or inheritance she might have gotten had she chosen to marry into what their grandmother might have called a more ‘respectable’ house.

“The school has wands you can check out, don’t they?” Benjy asked, looking thoughtful. Remus was already shaking his head.

“They wouldn’t be any better than the one Ron’s currently got. They’re all old, with frayed cores. Basically, no different than a stick.”

Marlene shrugged. “Still might actually be better,” she muttered.

“’Write home for another one,’ Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.”

Fabian winced at the recommendation; Gideon sighed. Harry likely meant well but he had a feeling Ron might be sensitive about it.

“’Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back,’ said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag. … ‘All right, Harry? I’m – I’m Colin Creevey, he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. … ‘A Picture?’ Harry repeated blankly.”

Lily sighed sadly at the scene. Gideon knew that some kids might thrive in the sort of spotlight that Harry seemed to have. Fabian surely would, never one to shy away himself. But the fame Harry experienced seemed to be because the Wizarding World appeared to largely agree that the boy had done something to get rid of Voldemort. Maybe it was only the story they were buying into, a baby defeating the greatest Dark Lord Britain had ever seen. Gideon wouldn’t lie, it sounded like an old folk legend his parents might have read him when he was a kid, right from the pages of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. But whatever happened the night described at the start of the first book, Gideon had a feeling it was a lot more complicated than most wanted to believe.

“'So I can prove I’ve met you,’ said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. … ‘Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?’”

“Great Merlin,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

“Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy’s voice echoed around the courtyard. … ‘Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!’”

Gideon watched as Lily’s jaw clenched tight, cheeks flaming in anger for her son. Though it was past his time, he’d heard Lily had been a menace to bullies and bigots alike in her Head Girl days.

“’No I’m not,’ said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. … ‘I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special myself.’”

Gideon heard Emmeline’s sharp intake of breath before Marlene’s fist slammed into the table.

“That little arsehole,” she spat. “No, I don’t care that he’s twelve,” she said when several eyes turned to her, sitting a little straighter in her chair and challenging anyone to disagree. No one seemed to. Gideon sure couldn’t. His own fists were clenched in anger.

“Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly. … ‘Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter,’ smirked Malfoy. “It’d be worth more than his family’s whole house – ‘”

Sirius scoffed in disgust. “Like father like son,” he muttered darkly.

Gideon didn’t have anything to add to that. He’d never met Lucius Malfoy, and he’d only known Narcissa Black while she had been a year ahead of him in school. There were some distant relatives of his deep into pureblood culture, but none Gideon knew very well. As exposed to purity and dark magic as Ravenclaw had been, Gideon still felt distant toward that side of the war. It threw him off, sometimes, when the others spoke about Death Eaters with more than a little familiarity. There had been a Selwyn in his year, Serena, who was rumored to be a Death Eater, as well as one of Fabian’s dormmates, Alexander Pyrites. But Gideon knew that for other members of the Order, it was far more personal.

“Ron whipped out his Spellotaped want, but Hermoine shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, ‘Look out!’ … ‘Off you go, move along there,’ Lockhart called to the crowd, … The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase, ‘Harry Potter fan club.’”

Gideon groaned. “I swear, he’s only gotten more insufferable with age,” he complained. He was actually starting to wonder if it was possible that Lockhart might turn out to be a worse Defense professor than Quirrell.

“This class is about to be a disaster,” Emmeline agreed.

“When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. … ‘I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!’”

“I highly doubt that man has ever fought a Banshee,” Gideon grumbled.

Remus was frowning. “Any joyous expression is effective against a Banshee,” he said. “A Laughing Potion might be the best but smiling would work against weaker spirits.”

“So, he not funny and incompetent,” Fabian said cheerfully. “Lovely.”

“He waited for them to laugh; … 54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?”

“This has to be a joke,” Lily said flatly. Gideon sighed. While it was true that the constant cycle of Defense Professors left a lot to be desired for the position, he’d never had one this bad. Of course, he’d also never had one with Voldemort growing out of the back of their head, so he wondered if he should be considering this an improvement.

“Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled them in front of class. … ‘Yes,’ he said dramatically. ‘Freshly caught Cornish pixies.’”

“Oh Merlin,” Remus whispered and next to him Sirius actually chortled out a laugh. Lily turned her blazing gaze on him.

“This isn’t funny, Black,” she said. “Cornish pixies have been known to be violent against humans!” she fretted.

“Only in swarms,” Remus said, though his tone was laced with worry as he stared at the book.

“There’s no way he would open the cage, right?” Peter asked, his voice small. Marlene snorted.

“No, Peter,” she started derisively. “Lockhart has given us nothing to think he’s anything but the embodiment of absolute responsibility.”

Gideon shook his head.

“Seamus Finnegan couldn’t control himself. … ‘Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!’ … And he opened the cage.”

“I’m not even surprised,” Lily said, seeming resigned to the turn of events. Most of the room seemed to accept that this was only going to be an absolute disaster. McGonagall was shaking her head disappointedly in the corner.

“It was pandemonium. … Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air.”

Alice let out a horrified shriek, glaring hard at the book, as if she could make Gilderoy Lockhart materialize in front of her.

“Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. … within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling. … ‘Peskipiki Pesternomi!’”

“That’s only effective against Thessalian Pixies,” Remus said angrily.

“It had absolutely no effect; … He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.”

“Coward,” Sirius muttered like it was the worst insult he could think of. Gideon had spent long enough around Gryffindors to suspect most would agree that it was. But, still, in this instance, he was liable to concur. Who just left twelve-year-olds to fend for themselves against a swarm of pixies!

“’Can you believe him?’ … ‘Rubbish,’ said Hermoine. ‘You’ve read his books – look at all those amazing things he’s done – ‘ ‘He says he’s done,’ Ron muttered.” Marlene looked up as she finished.

“I think Ron’s onto something, honestly,” Emmeline said angrily. “There is no way Lockhart did anything against any Dark creature if that’s how he reacts around pixies.”

Gideon shook his head. “He was never a good student, but he certainly wasn’t a great student in DADA. Mostly just copied his work off others.”

Lily was shaking her head. “There is incompetence and then there’s dangerous incompetence.”

“Does anyone want to read next?” Marlene asked, seeming to ignore the ongoing conversation. Gideon sighed.

“I will read, Ms. McKinnon,” McGonagall offered. Her face was pinched tightly, no doubt irritated at that display of incompetence herself. Pandora handed the book off to her.

McGonagall looked down at the book and her face pulled into a grimace. She gave a pregnant pause.

“Chapter Seven,” she finally read bitterly. “Mudbloods and Murmurs.”

Chapter Text

Dorcas saw Lily flinch almost reflexively as the title of the chapter was read, James glancing worriedly at her. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest.

“You good?” Marlene murmured quietly beside her, keeping her voice so low Dorcas doubted that anyone else had heard. Dorcas nodded stiffly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dorcas whispered back. She refused to turn and look at Marlene, but she could tell the other girl was searching her face.

“Come on, you don’t – “

“Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days,” McGonagall started, cutting Marlene short. Dorcas couldn’t help but be happy about it. “dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. … ‘Quidditch practice!’ said Wood. ‘Come on!’”

James groaned. “Oh no, he hasn’t been able to practice all summer!” Lily huffed out a small laugh next to him and leaned back.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine dear.” Lily said, patting his arm. James nodded absently.

“True. Seekers don’t need that much practice either,” he said glibly, which had Regulus’s neck snapping toward him.

“Watch it, Potter,” he said, surprisingly light. Dorcas almost smiled.

Before James, Dorcas thinks the only person she knew who loved Quidditch that much was Regulus. It was how they met. Dorcas had been sneaking out to the Quidditch pitch nearly every morning before class, embarrassingly trying to determine when Gryffindor practice occurred. Of course, James was keeping the schedule under wraps since being named captain his fifth year, convinced that if the schedule was leaked the other Houses would spy on Gryffindor tactics. It was, perhaps, an early tell-tale sign of his Auror career. Moody would have been proud. Instead, it made Dorcas’s past time of spying on a certain cute Gryffindor Chaser significantly more difficult.

Regulus Black had been a third year, the new Slytherin Seeker, and Dorcas truly had not given the boy a second thought. She recognized the name, or, more accurately, the last name. She’d learned quickly which families to stay away from in Slytherin. But Regulus Black had walked up to her after their third or fourth time of running into each other at the fields, handed her a complex rotating schedule and quite loudly insinuated she was completely incompetent.

Dorcas had liked him immediately.

James rolled his eyes. “Well, naturally talented Seekers like my son don’t need constant practice,” he corrected in something so close to banter it nearly knocked Dorcas right out of her chair. Regulus’s eyes widened a fraction as he recognized the tone. “I’ve heard about your practice schedule, Black. I suppose we can’t all be gifted.”

It was so close to an olive branch, the deliberately even tone in which James spoke, Dorcas could feel her mouth drop open. By the time she and Marlene had started hanging around, James had mostly gotten over his blind rivalry of all Slytherins. But he’d been largely susceptible to grouping the entire House into one overused stereotype when they’d been younger, Dorcas had been on the receiving end of the so-called Marauders pranks several times. He grew out of that bias, as they all grew older, which was more than Dorcas could say for so many of her Housemates. But given what little Dorcas knew about Sirius’s relationship with his brother, Dorcas would have expected such an olive branch to be snapped and burned in a fire before ever being offered to the younger boy.

Clearly, Regulus didn’t expect it either. After a beat of silence, open confusion on the younger boy’s face, Regulus pursed his lips.

“Not my practice schedule,” he said dully, which had Dorcas furrowing her eyebrows.

James looked equally puzzled. “I heard you were named captain last year?” he said, glancing surreptitiously at Sirius, who had open confusion written on his face.

Regulus clenched his jaw and glanced down, shrugging his shoulders. “Stepped down.” His voice was deceptively casual.

That didn’t sound right to Dorcas, and James’s mouth was already opening, as if to ask more, but Sirius cut him off with a glare. Sirius’s eyes were dark, face hard in a way that made Dorcas think she was missing a part of the story, some information she didn’t know. Eventually, the pause lasted long enough for McGonagall to continue.

“Harry squinted at the window. … ‘Will you sign it?’ said Colin eagerly. ‘No,’ said Harry flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted.”

Snape rolled his eyes as the exchange.

“’Sorry, Colin, I’m in a hurry – Quidditch practice – ‘… ‘It’ll be really boring.’”

“Is it boring?” Marlene asked innocently, glancing over at Dorcas. “You told me it was very interesting and that’s why you were there every – “ Dorcas gave her a playful shove.

“Shut up,” she said, trying not to sound fond. She was failing.

Marlene snickered.

“Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement. … ‘And you’re the Gryffindor Seeker, aren’t you?’ said Colin in awe.”

Dorcas was trying very hard to ignore facial expressions Snape was making, the other boy doing very little to hide what he thought of the interaction. She was also trying very hard not to hex him from across the bar. Professor McGonagall would be disappointed in you; don’t disappoint McGonagall, she chanted to herself.

“’Yes,’ said Harry as they left the castle and started across the dew-drenched grass. … As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley’s head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet’s shoulder and he began to snore.”

Fabian shook his head fondly, snorting a laugh.

“The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. … He had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.”

It was almost comical how pained James looked at that information. Peter patted his arm comfortingly.

“Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. … ‘Look this way, Harry! This way!’ he cried shrilly. ‘Who’s that?’ said Fred. ‘No idea,’ Harry lied.”

Lily grimaced.

Truthfully, Dorcas couldn’t blame Harry for that one. As well-meaning as Colin Creevy surely was, Harry was still just a kid who really didn’t deserve to have any of this attention on him. Though it was for a vastly different reason, Dorcas could still remember her early days in Slytherin, where she was more a spectacle than a housemate; more a target than a spectacle. Word had gotten out depressingly quickly about her blood status. Come, look at the Mudblood Slytherin. She had felt like she an animal at the zoo, thick impenetrable glass between her and her voyeurs. It had been a lonely few years.

“Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin. … ‘I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.’”

“What?” Marlene shouted, outraged. “That’s not allowed!”

James looked angry as well. “You have to get practice time proved a month in advance!” He clearly directed his glare at Snape, even though they weren’t exactly actions that this Snape could attest to.

Snape was clearly feeling more comfortable since yesterday because he only rolled his eyes.

“The year before, McGonagall added a first year to her team and then bought him a broom,” he scoffed. “Clearly – “he started.

“Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore interrupted politely, and Snape’s mouth snapped shut. McGonagall glanced at the Headmaster, seeming a little surprised by the defense. Eventually, after a beat of silence, she picked back up the book.

“’You’ve got a new Seeker?’ … It was Draco Malfoy.”

Sirius scoffed loudly. “Of bloody course,” he said. Dorcas sighed. It was perhaps naive to hope that Harry and the Malfoy boy could have put their rivalry from the past year behind them. Dorcas had a sinking feeling it might become a consistent theme as they continued to read.

“’Where?’” McGonagall continued. “‘As for the old Cleansweeps’ – he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives – ‘sweeps the board with them.’”

“Well that’s just embarrassing,” James snorted, clearly referencing the obvious pseudo-bribe to get on the team.

“None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. … ‘At least no one of the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,’ said Hermoine sharply. ‘They got in on pure talent.’”

Sirius huffed out a small laugh and James looked proud of Hermione’s words.

“The smug look on Malfoy’s face flickered. ‘No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,’ he spat.” McGonagall’s voice was low, laced with anger.

There was a beat of silence in the bar. Lily was stalk still, anger simmering but barely showing on her face, despite the worried glance of her husband. The rest of that table seemed to be throwing fairly inconspicuous glares towards Snape, like they were all still trapped in fifth year. Like they had never really left.

“Fucking asshole,” Marlene finally muttered under her breath. Dorcas couldn’t help it. She started laughing. Marlene gave her a strange look.

“Sorry,” Dorcas breathed out, because it wasn’t funny. Not at all. Not even a little bit. “Sorry,” she said again, taking a steadying breath.

It was something that Dorcas had tried not to get used to over the years, those discussions of purity, or the insults and names, sometimes thrown around behind her back, but more often than not, simply spit at her face. She wasn’t sure quite why she had laughed, perhaps just the relief of those words still having impact, the reminder that they weren’t something she should be used to. Her outburst at least seemed to have undercut the tension in the room, glares at Snape becoming looks of disbelief in her direction.

“Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words.”

Dorcas thought back to what it was like before she knew what the word meant. True naivety turned into genuine confusion when an old Hat whispered in her ear, you will struggle there, but there is only one place for you child.

She hadn’t understood what the Hat meant. Not at first. Not for a while. But it had quickly become very evident.

“Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, ‘How dare you!’, and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, ‘You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!’ and pointed it furiously under Flint’s arm at Malfoy’s face.”

“Oh no,” muttered Gideon.

“A loud bang echoes around the stadium, and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron’s wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.”

Dorcas gave a slight jerk at the mention of green light, thinking, for a terrible moment, that it was in reference to the killing curse. It had become a color that she was getting to be quite familiar with since joining the Order about a year and a half ago. Although most of the time, by the time the Order received word of an attack, it was far too late for spells to still be flying around. The Order seemed to have to fight tooth and nail for any small piece of intelligence regarding an attack, while sometimes it felt like information from Order meetings slipped directly in Voldemort’s hands.

Dorcas shook her head. It was becoming exhausting, and she was still one of the newer members at the bar.

“’Ron! Ron! Are you alright?’ squealed Hermoine. … Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap. … Nobody seemed to want to touch him.”

Dorcas tried not to let herself feel a pang of disappointment that not one of the children who were in her House stood up to the bullying. Perhaps she was hoping too much, that ten years out from this war things would have changed so drastically. She knew it hadn’t always been so bad, the purist sentiment festering in the dungeons of the castle. Slytherin House had a tortured past with the ideology but she’d hoped … well. She’d hoped that in the absence of the war it might have lessened.

Those hopes were quickly getting dashed.

“’We’d better get him to Hagrid’s, it’s nearest,’ said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.”

Dorcas was starting to become fond of Lily and James’s child, but she wanted to smack her head against the table of the Hog’s Head. Harry seemed just like his father: a penchant for trouble and an apparent allergy to the Hospital Wing.

“’What happened, Harry?’ … ‘That’s a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand – ‘”

“He truly needs to get that fixed,” sighed Fabian.

Dorcas grimaced. She couldn’t imagine losing her own wand, Beech wood with a Dragon Heartstring core. Dorcas had loved it since she’d been given the wand at eleven. But Ron’s wand, if she remembered correctly, had been a family wand. She wasn’t entirely familiar, but she knew some older families passed wands down, as long as they were well cared for. She suspected the Weasley’s might have passed this wand down less for reasons of tradition, and more for financial incentives.

Before wand-makers became popular, most wands were coveted, shared only between wizarding families. But that had been centuries ago, before the Ollivander family began making a name for itself, wand-making becoming an art across the continent. Dorcas couldn’t help but think the old practice of passing down wands was just another instance of Muggleborns being kept out.

“Hagrid was bustling around making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry. … ‘What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?’ … ‘Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job – ‘ ‘He was the on’y man for the job,’ said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while Ron coughed squelchily into his basin.”

Professor McGonagall sighed tiredly, taking a pause in the reading. She looked tired, more than anything else, at the description of the search for Defense Professors.

“’An’ I mean the on’y one. Getting’ very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren’t too keen ter take it on, see. They’re startin’ ter think it’s jinxed.’”

“Probably is cursed,” Moody said gruffly, eyed narrowing, harkening back to the group’s earlier discussion. Dumbledore seemed to believe in the curse, but the fact that the Ministry’s curse-breakers hadn’t found anything when checking the castle confused Dorcas. She worked as a curse-breaker herself, though for Gringotts, not the Ministry, but she would have expected at least the identification of a curse if such one existed.

Besides, how did one curse a job? Dorcas couldn’t even imagine the logistics of cursing a teaching position. And yet, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Dorcas was starting to believe it herself. Nearly twenty-five years of different Defense professors. There was simply no way that was a coincidence.

“’No one’s lasted long fer a while now.’ … ‘Malfoy called her ‘Mudblood,’ Hagrid – ‘ … ‘But I don’t know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course – ‘”

Lily sighed, her green eyes flickering darkly.

Dorcas glanced openly at Snape, quiet through the chapter so far. She had heard enough about the incident at the lake, between James, Sirius, Snape and Lily to wonder if it was what was going through the other Slytherin’s head at that moment. But maybe it wasn’t. Perhaps Snape wasn’t thinking about that day at all. Had never thought about it again. Maybe it had simply been another day for the boy.

As if sensing her stare, Snape’s black eyes flickered over to her, something dark and uncomfortable in them. Just as quickly, the other boy glanced away. It may have been a trick of the light, but Dorcas thought his cheeks colored red.

“’It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of,’ gasped Ron, coming back up. … ‘There are some wizards – like Malfoy’s family – who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re what people call pure-blood.’”

There was an uncomfortable silence around the room. It was an awfully bold thing for a pureblood to say, Dorcas thought wryly.

“He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. … ‘I mean, the rest of us know it doesn’t make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom – he’s a pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up.’”

Fabian winced. “Got a way with words that one,” he said disappointedly. Dorcas shook her head.

“’An’ they haven’t invented a spell out Hermione can’ do,’ said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.”

“She should be proud,” Remus spoke softly. “She’s a brilliant witch.” Remus spoke as if he were paying the girl a compliment, like she was in the room with them. Lily glanced fondly at her friend.

“She is,” Lily agreed softly.

“She knew Alohamora as a first year,” Marlene pointed out proudly, which was rather impressive.

“’It’s a disgusting thing to call someone,’ said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand.” McGonagall continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “‘You will both do your detentions this evening.’ … ‘You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch.’”

James made a gagging noise and next to him, Peter shook his head.

“Sometimes, I think I can still smell that polish.” Peter wrinkled his nose like the stench was coated on the inside of it.

Lily snorted. “I swear, third year that trophy case had never shone brighter.” Dorcas shook her head as well. Dorcas didn’t doubt the four Gryffindor boys of her year had been made to clean the trophy room, though she had no idea which particular year that would have been. Frankly, she doubted there was a punishment in the castle that group hadn't received, proudly no less.

“’And no magic, Weasley – elbow grease.’ … ‘Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o’clock sharp, both of you.’”

Emmeline groaned. “I don’t think I can take a whole book of this man.”

“Harry and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression. ‘Come … come to me … Let me rip you …. Let me tear you … Let me kill you …’”

Lily sat rigid in her chair. “What in Godric’s name is that?”

There were a few other wide eyes around the room, but no one seemed to have an answer for her. Dorcas sat forward as well, trying to make sense of what Harry was describing. She hoped that it was some misguided prank.

“Harry gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley’s street. … ‘What voice?’”

“What is that?” Lily asked again, this time, her voice pitched in fear.

Dorcas felt uneasy. “He couldn’t hear it?” she asked slowly as McGonagall paused. Her old Transfiguration professor seemed equally confused at what she was reading.

“Not over the sound of his own voice probably,” Marlene muttered under her breath next to Dorcas.

“’That – that voice that said – didn’t you hear it?’” McGonagall continued after a moment of silence. Everyone seemed fixated on the book, nervous energy in the air. “Keeping his voice low so as not to wake Neville, Dean, and Seamus, Harry told Ron exactly what he had hears. … ‘I don’t get it either.’” McGonagall finished.

Gideon shook his head, mystified. “I guess that makes … all of us,” he said, looking around the room as if hoping someone would contradict him. No one did.

“I can read next, Minerva,” Caradoc said. McGonagall passed him the book without protest.

In the front of the room, Dumbledore frowned. “Perhaps, after the next chapter, we can break for lunch. We can continue the book this afternoon,” he suggested. The rest of the room seemed in agreement and Dorcas couldn’t help feeling relieved. She could feel the tension building within the bar. Dumbledore was probably right not to keep them all cooped up too long. They’d only been reading for a few hours and Dorcas was already feeling jittery.

Caradoc turned to the next chapter in the book, giving a small frown before reading.

“Chapter Eight.” He started. “The Deathday Party.”

Chapter Text

Remus frowned in confusion at the title, and he could see Lily, and others around the room, looking similarly bewildered. Emmeline, however, sat up straight in her chair, as if she’d been shocked.

“A Deathday Party?” she asked, unabashed excitement, wide grin spreading over her face. Her dark eyes shined through heavy lashes.

“Oh no,” Benjy Fenwick said, though he seemed more amused than anything else. “I suppose there’s no stopping you now.” Gideon laughed but Fabian looked between the three, clearly confused.

“What’s this about?” he asked, seeming a little put out that he was left out. Emmeline turned to him, excitement bubbling.

“A Deathday Party!” she said like this was a thorough enough explanation. Benjy rolled his eyes, though it didn’t stop Emmeline from turning to him. “You don’t think Harry could have gotten an invite, do you?” she asked. The question didn’t seem rhetorical, but Remus had no idea what Emmeline was talking about.

Gideon rolled his eyes. “I guess we’ll just have to read, Em,” he said. Emmeline turned expectantly to Caradoc, who was watching the scene with unconcealed amusement. The older man took the invitation to start.

“October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle.” Caradoc began. “Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students.”

Remus thought fondly of the Hogwarts Healer as she was mentioned in the story. Poppy Pomfrey had been kinder to Remus than he’d ever expected, often being the first face, he’d wake up to after full moons at Hogwarts, at least until later. After fifth year, Sirius, James, and Peter would sometimes stick around with him in those groggy early morning hours.

“Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire.”

Fabian and Gideon exchanged concerned glances at the description of their youngest – or only – niece.

Remus grimaced sympathetically. He’d never liked potions, perhaps too many years of taking them after moons. Or perhaps it was because of his aversion to the ingredients, his werewolf senses always messing with his head in that particular classroom. There was a reason Remus had dropped the class as soon as he was able to.

“Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; … They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles.”

James looked somewhere between jealous and defeated.

Curiously, Remus glanced toward Regulus, who along with Marlene, and of course James, seemed the only others engaged in the Quidditch story line. Expecting him to look happy, or at least nostalgic, Remus was surprised to see a bitter expression flitter across Regulus’s face. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus watched as Sirius caught this as well, face unreadable.

Remus leaned toward his friend.

“You should talk to him,” he spoke in a lowered voice. It was becoming quite ridiculous. Sirius had done little else the last few chapters except glower at his brother and Remus got the feeling that the pair was in some sort of standoff, as if competing to see who could care less about the other. It was ridiculous, mostly because they both so clearly cared for each other.

Sirius scowled. “Why?” he asked petulantly. Remus felt like he hardly needed to answer that, but he did, nonetheless.

“Come on, Sirius. It’s obviously bothering you,” he started.

“Not bothered,” Sirius cut in.

“And the only way you’re going to get answers is if you ask for them,” he continued. Sirius pursed his lips. Remus knew maybe better than anyone, save the very topic of their conversation, how stubborn Sirius could be, and family was always a sensitive topic with the other boy. But this was more than Remus had seen Regulus and Sirius interact in … what seemed like years. If there was ever a time to talk, it was now.

“Maybe,” Sirius muttered under his breath and Remus sighed. He supposed that was as much as he could ask for now.

“As Harry squelched along the deserted corridor, he came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was. … ‘… don’t fulfill their requirements … half an inch, if that …’”

“Poor guy,” Peter said sadly. Having been subjected to many of Nearly Headless Nick’s lamenting tirades about his head, Peter was clearly sympathetic.

“’Hello, Nick,’ said Harry. … ‘But you would think, wouldn’t you,’ he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, ‘that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?’ ‘Oh – yes,’ said Harry, who was obviously supposed to agree.”

“Smart kid,” Sirius muttered.

“I guess he tried to apply again,” Remus added thoughtfully. Their House ghost had been rejected from the Headless Hunt their Second Year. And their Fourth. And their Fifth. He’d once gotten the petition all the way up to the Delegation of Dismemberment. Remus assumed the fact that Nick was still trying meant that they had upheld the rejection of his application.

“’I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule.’ … ‘Most people would think that’s good and beheaded, but oh, no, it’s not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore,’”

Sirius was actually mouthing along to Nearly Headless Nick’s monologue, seeming having it mostly memorized by heart.

“Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said, in a far calmer tone, ‘So – what’s bothering you? … KWIKSPELL A Correspondence Course in Beginners’ Magic.”

There was a scoff from the front of the room and a few people shifted uncomfortably, not seeming the know how to react.

Edgar’s eyes flashed and he glared in the general direction the scoff had come from but couldn’t seem to pinpoint the source.

“Intrigued, Harry flicked the envelope open and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside. … Did this mean he wasn’t a proper wizard?”

Again, most of the room stayed quiet. He hadn’t known, while Remus was at Hogwarts, that their old caretaker had been a squib. He’d assumed, probably like most people, that Filch had been a wizard whose wand got snapped, or one restricted from using magic by the Ministry. Similar to Hagrid, though from the first book, it was clear Hagrid hadn’t let this restriction stop him. Truthfully, Remus had never given much thought as to why Filch never used magic, though it was starting to make a lot more sense.

“Harry was just reading ‘Lesson One: Holding Your Wand (Some Useful Tips)’ when shuffling footsteps outside told him Filch was coming back. … ‘That Vanishing Cabinet was extremely valuable!’ he was saying gleefully to Mrs. Norris.”

“There’s a vanishing cabinet in the castle?” Fabian leaned forward.

Gideon’s eyes glittered mischievously.

“What, where?” Sirius asked, sitting forward a little petulantly. Remus shook his head, sending a silent thank you that James or Sirius hadn’t ever stumbled across that particular magical object. Lily seemed to be having a similar thought.

“Oh, don’t get any ideas,” she cut in. “Caradoc, please.”

Caradoc smiled softly and continued to read.

“’We’ll have Peeves out this time, my sweet – ‘ … ‘If I thought you’d read my private – not that it’s mine – for a friend – be that as it may – however –‘”

“Oh, he doesn’t even know what all that means!” Marlene hissed.

Lily glanced over at her friend, a little sheepishly.

“What – does it mean?” she asked haltingly, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

“KWIKSPELL. It’s supposed to help witches or wizard’s whose magic doesn’t trigger a Hogwarts letter,” James explained delicately. “Supposedly it will help them … build their reserves.”

Lily still looked completely baffled.

“Squibs,” Snape bit out. It was one of the first times he had addressed Lily directly, and she looked startled more than anything at his words. In a second, however, her green eyes clouded over.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you,” she bit out.

“Harry was staring at him, alarmed; … ‘I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch’s office,’ said Nick eagerly. ‘Thought it might distract him – ‘”

“Oh, brilliant!” Sirius said with a grin.

“’Was that you?’ said Harry gratefully. … ‘Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday, said Nearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified.”

“Oh, Rowena, he’s so lucky!” Emmeline said with some strange reverence. “I’ve always wondered what a Deathday Party is like! The Gray Lady never celebrated hers.” She frowned just after she said this, like she was remembering just how the Ghost of Ravenclaw tower died.

“I’m assuming a Deathday Party is exactly what I think it is?” Marlene asked with a sigh. Emmeline nodded enthusiastically, completely unperturbed by Marlene’s tone.

“They’re usually quite exclusive! I’ve read Daisy Mayfield’s book A Decade of Death where she visits ten Deathday parties over ten years. It’s fascinating.”

Remus stifled a smile at his friend’s excitement. It seemed so rare, these days, that any of them got excited over anything. Emmeline was nearly bouncing in her seat.

“Not every ghost celebrates theirs,” Gideon said a little defensively, clearly referring to the Gray Lady.

Emmeline sighed. “That’s true,” she admitted. “I don’t even think Binns remembers his.”

Gideon snorted at this and Emmeline looked a little proud.

“’Oh,’ said Harry, not sure whether he should look sorry or happy about this. … ‘do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?’ … As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.”

Emmeline’s listened intently, like she was memorizing every word.

“Why the terrible music?” Benjy prompted, seeming resigned to his fate. Emmeline lit up.

“Well Mayfield’s book speculated it was because ghosts don’t have bones,” she explained excitedly. “Their ears aren’t equipped to handle sound the same way as when they were alive.”

Fabian snorted. “That actually explains a lot about Binns’s lectures.”

“’Is that supposed to be music?’ Ron whispered. … Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer."

Remus had never been particularly fascinated with ghosts. There was a brief unit on them in second year Defense class, but only because they were on the Magical Creatures Registry. Remus hadn’t been able to pay attention in History of Magic for the whole week, unable to shake the thought that he wasn’t sure who was more human: him, or the ghost teaching them.

“’Shall we have a look around?’ … ‘Turn back, turn back, I don’t want to talk to Moaning Myrtle – ‘”

“Oh, Merlin,” groaned Marlene. Remus glanced over, eyebrow raised, but Marlene was exchanging a knowing look with Lily, who herself grimaced.

“Who?” Benjy Fenwick asked, confusion written on his face. He glanced at Emmeline, who simply pursed her lips.

“Ghost in the girl’s bathroom,” Marlene explained. “On the second floor.”

“’Who?’ … ‘Can you taste it if you walk through it?’ Harry asked him. ‘Almost,’ the ghost said sadly, and he drifted away.”

“Fascinating,” breathed Emmeline. Nearby, Caradoc chuckled.

“It’s never been proven if ghosts can actually taste the food, or if they just think they can,” Benjy cut in. “The mind can be a powerful thing, you know.” Emmeline just rolled her eyes.

“How would they know ghosts couldn’t taste it?” Fabian frowned. Emmeline shrugged.

“There weren’t reports of ghosts tasting food until sometime in the 16th century,” she explained. “The first accounts come from Lord Fryer’s Funeral Pire at the turn of the century. Famous Deathday Party.” Emmeline added at the end.

“Merlin she’s worse than James and Quidditch,” Sirius muttered under his breath. Remus stifled a laugh.

“’I expect they’ve let it rot to give it a stronger flavor,’ said Hermoine knowledgeably, … ‘Hello, Peeves,’ said Harry cautiously.”

Emmeline frowned. “I’m surprised Peeves was even invited."

Gideon shrugged. “They might have just not wanted to upset him by leaving him out.”

“Why wouldn’t Peeves be invited?” Marlene asked with a frown.

“Peeves is a poltergeist, not a true ghost,” Emmeline explained. “He never had a human life, rather he’s the embodiment of mischievous spirit. There is some serious exclusiveness when it comes to ghosts. I mean, look at this whole fiasco with the Headless Hunt. Could you imagine not even being a true ghost?”

Edgar frowned. “There is some discussion at the Ministry of putting poltergeists in their own class of species,” he started. “They are distinct from ghosts in so many ways, there simply just aren’t enough historical records to build a complete class profile.”

“The Magical Creatures Registry is a mess,” Benjy agreed fervently, and Remus went cold at the mention.

Dorcas leaned forward. “How are they different?” she asked, more curious than anything.

Edgar shrugged. “Well, for one, Poltergeist can actually interact with our world,” he said.

“Also, they don’t have a human spirit,” Emmeline added. “They should probably be classified further down the Registry, to be honest.” Edgar glanced at her.

“That too,” he admitted.

Dorcas was still frowning. “How do we know that, though?” she asked. Remus started to feel distinctly uncomfortable, heart pounding in his chest. In the corner of his vision, he saw Sirius glance at him concernedly.

It isn’t the same, he told himself. It wasn’t even like they were outright discussing werewolves. Ghosts may have been on the same registry, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.

“They’re unaffected by Dementors,” Edgar answered thoughtfully. Remus’s ears were ringing, but the noise didn’t seem to drown out the rest of the conversation.

“They don’t truly have as much in common with regular ghosts,” Emmeline shook her head. “People think ghosts are even more similar to Residuals than Poltergeists, and they aren’t even sentient.”

“Residuals?”

Sirius’s face swam into Remus vision for a moment. The voices were becoming distorted and he could no longer put names to the noises. Remus glanced down at his hands, balled into shaking fists.

“Death Echoes. If there is a particularly traumatic death, there might be an imprint on that death left in the location. Sort of like a replaying loop.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” the snap of Sirius’s voice, right next to Remus, startled him back into the conversation. He realized his breath had been coming out, short and quick, his chest pounding. He took in a deep gulp, holding it and forcing his heart to calm.

“Let’s just – keep reading,” Sirius prompted. Thankfully, Caradoc listened.

“Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. … ‘How are you, Myrtle?’” Caradoc sighed sadly. “It’s a shame. What happened,” he said a bit nonsensically. Before anyone could jump in though, he continued. “’It’s nice to see you out of the toilet.’”

“Wait,” James cut in. “Why does she haunt a toilet?” he asked. Remus was wondering the same. Frankly, if he’d had to choose a place to haunt for the rest of eternity, Remus surely wouldn’t have chosen a bathroom.

“She died there,” Caradoc said sadly.

James’s eyes widened. “What?” he asked.

In the front of the room, McGonagall nodded somberly.

“Many years ago,” she explained with a sigh.

There was a beat of silence. “How did she die?” Emmeline’s voice was hesitant, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to ask.

Caradoc’s face soured a bit and he simply shook his head. “We don’t know,” he said, but he spoke carefully, like he was avoiding telling a lie. Instead of expanding, however, he simply lifted the book again.

“’Myrtle niffed. … ‘Nick! He roared. ‘How are you? Head still hanging in there?’”

“Prick,” Sirius muttered. All of Gryffindor was quite fond of Nearly Headless Nick, and, whether they actually wanted him to get his dream, or they simply wanted him to shut up about it, they could all agree on wanting him to join the Headless Hunt.

“He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder. … ‘Let’s go,’ Harry agreed.”

“Can’t say I blame them,” Frank muttered under his breath.

“They backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles. … ‘… rip … tear … kill …’”

“There it is again,” Lily said, taking the description of Harry hearing the voice much more calmly this time, but green eyes still narrowing. “What is it?” Lily asked a little rhetorically. Remus pursed his own lips, staring at the book, as if it would simply give him the answers. Part of his thought this whole story time song and dance was ridiculous. Couldn’t Sybil simply tell them what they needed to know?

The room was quiet, a few dubious looks at the book in Caradoc’s hand, clearly unsure what to make of what Harry was describing.

“It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart’s office.”

“It couldn’t be … it couldn’t be Voldemort? Could it?” Emmeline asked, voice quiet. Lily was nearly shaking next to them, though Remus thought it was more from anger than fear.

“There’s no way,” James denied immediately, though it was unclear if he truly believed that, or was simply desperate for it to be true. “Why would he be back at the castle?” he asked. “The Stone is gone. What else could he want at Hogwarts?”

Remus shook his head, unsure how to answer. Frankly, it was a good point. Surely Voldemort would want to stay as far from Hogwarts as possible, especially in his weakened form. It was the worst kept secret in Wizarding Britain that Dumbledore was the only wizard that Voldemort truly feared.

“Besides,” Gideon added slowly. “He doesn’t have … a body. Does he?” he asked. Again, no one in the room answered. Eventually, Caradoc continued reading.

“He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might. Looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway. … ‘ … kill … time to kill…’”

“It doesn’t seem like Ron and Hermoine can hear the voice,” Remus pointed out dully. That … wasn’t a good sign. Remus was used to hearing noises others couldn’t, but he could thank lycanthropy for his enhanced hearing. Certain charms allowed it, but it was clear from the books that Harry was doing this unintentionally. Or maybe naturally.

Lily shook her head. “I don’t understand. Is he …” she trailed off, but Remus thought he knew what she planned to say. Imagining it. But she clearly didn’t want to entertain the idea that these voices were just in Harry’s head.

“The voice was growing fainter. … ‘I smell blood … I SMELL BLOOD!’”

“Oh no,” Peter said quietly, fear tainting his voice. Lily was stiff next to him and Remus wished he could provide some comfort to her and James, who were staring at the book in horror. It didn’t matter that none of this was truly real. However, many times Remus told himself this future was only a possibility, he couldn’t allow himself to believe it. The way Sybil and Pandora created these books to describe her visions left a haunting feeling in the room. The more they all read, the more real this future seemed to become.

“His stomach lurched – ‘It’s going to kill someone!’ he shouted.”

“He needs to be running away,” Lily said furiously. Remus shook his head, knowing that if this truly was James and Lily’s child, that was likely not even a thought that crossed the boy’s mind.

“He ran up the next flight of step three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps - … THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.”

“What?” Alice asked, when the room fell silent for a few seconds. Caradoc’s widened eyes were not on the book anymore, instead staring very obviously at Dumbledore whose face had an unfamiliar haunted expression.

“The Chamber of Secrets?” Gideon repeated, more confused than anything else. “But, that’s only a legend, though.” Fabian glanced over at his brother in confusion, clearly not having any earthly clue what he was talking about.

“Perhaps not,” Caradoc said gravely. Dumbledore was frowning now, but he still had not chimed in.

“The book is named after it,” Gideon sounded thoughtful when he pointed it out and Remus craned his neck to try and catch glimpse of the books cover, irritated he hadn’t looked closer at it before now.

Next to their old Headmaster, McGonagall was shaking her head. “We don’t know that it has actually been opened. People have used the legend before to monger fear.”

“I’m sorry, what exactly is the Chamber of Secrets?” Remus finally felt compelled to ask. Several members around the room looked relieved that he had asked.

Caradoc sighed. “There is a hidden room, in the castle built by Salazar Slytherin. It’s said to house a monster.”

“Allegedly,” Moody interrupted roughly next to him. Caradoc frowned.

“I’m not sure how alleged you could argue it is, Alastor. It was opened in the 40s,” Caradoc pointed out. Remus’s eyebrows shot up. McGonagall only sighed tiredly.

“Technically, there is no official record of that,” the older witch said disdainfully. “Most agree that was just another instance of fear mongering.”

Caradoc looked at her incredulously. “Come on, Minerva, surely you don’t believe that!”

“Perhaps it would simply be in our best interest to continue reading,” Dumbledore finally. If Remus didn’t know any better, he would say the old man looked scared. “The book will tell us if the Chamber truly has been opened. There is no sense in debating it now.”

No one seemed quite satisfied with leaving it at that but after some quiet grumbling around the room, Caradoc picked the book back up.

“’What’s that thing – hanging underneath?’ … She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.”

There were a few horrified gasps. As cruel as Filch was, Mrs. Norris was only a cat. She didn’t deserve such a fate. Remus felt an unexpected pang of sadness at the description of the cat that had stalked him and his friends for the better part of seven years.

“She could be Petrified, Albus,” Caradoc said, glancing up. Dumbledore’s face was drawn with worry. Remus frowned.

“Why does that matter?” Dorcas asked, seeming almost afraid of the answer. Petrified seemed ridiculously optimistic. The description in the book sounded too close to death to entertain otherwise, but there was something dark in Caradoc’s voice. It didn’t sound like petrification was optimism. It sounded the opposite.

“That is what happened last time people claimed the Chamber to be open,” Dumbledore finally answered, his voice soft and sad. “Students were found petrified in the hallways at Hogwarts.”

McGonagall shook her head. “We don’t know that the Chamber was opened then,” she explained tersely, but she sounded unsure. “That was the theory at the time, but they eventually dismissed it. Officially, the Chamber, if it exists at all, had never been opened.”

“They dismissed it because the DMLE wasn’t allowed to investigate,” Caradoc argued, voice hard. “This wasn’t long after your father joined the office, James” he said, and James’s eyes blew wide at the mention of that.

“My dad was on this case?” James asked, sounding breathless. Caradoc shrugged.

“Everyone was, at the time. Or as on it as Dippet allowed them to be.”

“That was the Headmaster at the time,” McGonagall explained when Caradoc didn’t offer anything else.

“You’re saying it was a cover-up,” Moody said thoughtfully.

Caradoc shook his head. “Dippet wouldn’t allow the DMLE on school grounds. Closed the case himself, he claimed. At that point, Fawley – the Minister of Magic – was under so much pressure, he was glad to have a scapegoat.”

“A scapegoat,” Fabian echoed. “So, you think they got the wrong guy?”

At this, McGonagall, Caradoc and Dumbledore all exchanged significant looks. McGonagall held Dumbledore’s gaze the longest, a hardness Remus had never seen before in her eyes. Dumbledore sighed.

“I’m afraid the true perpetrator was never caught,” he said. “Whether the person behind it all truly opened the Chamber, however, or simply used the legend to create fear, is still unknown.”

“But you know who,” Moody said gruffly, eyes narrowed. Dumbledore pursed his lips.

“It is likely that the book will be able to provide more context than I could ever hope to,” he said at last, a clear prompt for Caradoc to continue.

“For a few seconds, they didn’t move. … ‘Trust me,’ said Ron. ‘We don’t want to be found here.’”

“He’s right,” Sirius said suddenly. Perhaps it was an instinct born from sneaking around that very castle far too much in his own school days, but Remus couldn’t help but agree.

“Running will only make them look suspicious,” Emmeline said with a frown. Which was technically true. “They should find a teacher.”

“They should find McGonagall,” Marlene offered. “Or Dumbledore. We all know not every teacher would be willing to hear them out.”

Snape’s neck snapped over at the clear accusation.

Remus grimaced. He knew that Marlene had as few good things to say about Snape as Sirius or James, and she clearly didn’t feel any need to keep those feelings tucked away during these readings. She was openly glaring at Snape, eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Perhaps their word should be taken with a grain of salt,” Snape shot back and the chances of snuffing out an argument went up in smoke. “Afterall,” the Slytherin continued, “the boy was hearing voices no one else seemed to be able to. Maybe he did have something to do with this.”

“Oh, you have got to be – “

“Are you joking – “

“He didn’t!” Several voices chimed in at once, but James’s angry denial was the loudest. Remus’s friend stood up to glare at the other boy, anger sparking around him, quite literally.

“You know he didn’t,” James continued coldly. “We’re reading this from his point of view, for Godric’s sake!”

Although he’d first looked a little startled at being addressed, Snape recovered quickly, snorting. “And it’s hardly been reliable.”

James opened his mouth again but before he could get a word out, Dumbledore’s voice cut in.

“Sit down, if you would, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore spoke calmly but stern and after a second, eyes never leaving Snape, James collapsed back in his chair. “Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore turned on the other man. “While discussion is inevitable, we might limit ourselves to constructive commentary only, please.”

Snape glared fiercely back at their old Headmaster but didn’t say another word. Eventually, Dumbledore turned back towards the room.

“Caradoc, please continue.”

“But it was too late. … ‘Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next Mudblood!’”

Remus grit his teeth. Of course, he should have expected such an outburst from someone. Even in these years since, purism seemed just as commonplace as it was in Remus’s school days. Perhaps a little foolishly, he had hoped that with Voldemort gone, people would not be as quick to let such a remark go unnoticed.

“It was Draco Malfoy.”

Remus heard Sirius’s disgusted snort. Remus’s shoulders dropped. Of course, it was Malfoy. Remus hadn’t known the older Malfoy very well, he’d graduated from Hogwarts the year Remus had started, but he’d heard enough from Sirius and in the Order meetings to get a good idea of the man. Or at least as good an idea as Remus cared to get. It wasn’t fair to judge children on the actions of their parents – Remus knew that better than anyone. But it was clear that Malfoy’s son was taking after his father.

“He had pushed to the front of the crows, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.” Caradoc looked up, the trail of his voice clearly indicating the end of the chapter.

Marlene glanced away, shaking her head.

Dumbledore stood. “I think a break is well deserved,” he said, like they done anything to deserve the break other than bicker. Remus sighed and leaned back into his seat, feeling utterly exhausted.

“Well deserved my ass,” Lily muttered under her breath, causing Remus to burst out a laugh, tension snapping in his body. Lily glanced at him thankfully.

James groaned, dropping his head on the table. “I deserved a break five chapters ago,” he whined comically, and even Sirius gave him a shaky smile.

Remus almost missed it, had he blinked, he might have, but just then, Sirius’s eyes darted over to the table near the front, unmistakably where his brother had turned to exchange a few words with Pandora Lovegood.

“Why don’t you lovebirds run while you can. Try to find lunch around here,” Remus said, making an executive decision. Lily gave him a knowing glance, complete with an eyebrow raised in warning. Of course, she would know.

James looked at him surprised. “You don’t want to come with?” James asked, Lily already standing to stretch.

Remus just shook his head. “Nah, Pete and I will grab something here. I think Marlene is convincing Aberforth to open the kitchens,” he said and sure enough, the blond had already turned to the tired barman, bright smile on her face.

James glanced over at the bar, then back at Remus, then finally at Lily. Relief spread across his face and he took his wife’s arm as she pulled him out of his chair.

“All right,” he said. “Don’t break anything. And don’t wander! You never know – “

“Remus you’re in charge,” Lily said, cutting off her husband with a kiss, and pulling him to the door. “Come on, dear. I’ve been wanting to try the new shop next to The Three Broomsticks. Oh! Do you think Madam Rosmerta is in?”

Remus nodded over to Peter, who seemed nervous, wide eyes looking at Remus almost fearfully. It made Remus stomach churn uncomfortably and he felt strangely exposed, like when Sirius had called him out earlier for calling Malfoy ‘Lucius.’

“What do you think Aberforth is making?” Sirius asked, leaning his head propped up on his arm, watching Marlene haggle. Remus shrugged.

“Don’t know,” he said glibly. “But I’ll just get you whatever I’m getting, and you’ll eat it.”

Sirius frowned, lifting his head and looking over in confusion.

“You’ll get – “ he repeated. “Where am I going?” he asked incredulous. Remus gave him a hard look.

“You,” he said, pointing a finger for emphasis. Remus took satisfaction watching Sirius’s mouth fall open. “Are going to talk to Regulus.”

And Sirius’s mouth snapped shut.

“Moony – “ he started.

“Sirius,” Remus cut him off, giving him a look. “I don’t want to hear it. You want to talk to him; he wants to talk to you – “

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Sirius denied immediately, and Remus actually rolled his eyes.

“I guess you’ll have to go over there and find out,” he said evenly, holding Sirius’s disbelieving gaze. After a pregnant pause Remus glanced over to Peter, whose eyes were darting back and forth between the two of them. When Remus glanced back, Sirius was still just giving him a bit of a dumbfounded stare.

“Now would be a good time,” Remus prompted, nodding over to where Regulus sat as if Sirius had forgotten.

Sirius sighed dramatically. “I want it on the record that I think this is a bad idea,” he complained but when he stood, Remus only gave him a small push toward the front of the room.

“I hate you,” Sirius muttered, and Remus grinned widely.

“Don’t lie, you know you love me,” Remus said without really thinking and Sirius’s eyes widen just a fraction, so little Remus can almost pretend he imagined it. Then, Sirius blew out a sigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving him off and finally turning towards his brother, who was only listening to Pandora talk now, the younger girl gesturing about something dramatically with her hands. Sirius took a deep breath before starting over.

“Wish me luck,” Sirius asked, far too desperately for Remus to ever tease him about it.

“Luck,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Regulus didn’t hear Sirius approach, which in and of itself was a bad sign.

Sirius had always been loud, even as a child. Even as a baby. He recalled his grandfather Arcturus recounting the story of Sirius’s birth. The first-born son of Walburga and Orion Black had come out screaming, yowling, demanding attention with his first breath. Arcturus had been proud when he’d told the story, as if Sirius’s screams had been a sign of the House of Black’s future strength.

Arcturus had dropped that story pretty quickly after Sirius had been sorted, and all together once he’d been disowned. Regulus had only heard the story of his birth once. With a breath full of firewhiskey, his father had recounted the day: Eighteen hours of labor and not a peep, he’d mused. We thought you’d been born still. Regulus liked to imagine the flatness in his father’s voice was the liquor, not disappointment that they’d been wrong.

“Hey,” Sirius started, which startled Regulus enough to glance up, grey eyes wide. “Can we – er – talk?” his brother asked.

Regulus glanced behind his brother to the watchful eyes of Remus Lupin, lingering in the background. With Pandora at his shoulder, Regulus thought that the scene was comically similar to how two strangers might introduce hounds they worried weren’t going to get along. Regulus sighed.

“Sure,” he said, but made no move to leave. Regulus could feel Pandora’s disapproving frown on the back of his head.

Sirius gave him a flat look.

“Outside?” his brother asked evenly, a true testament to his fraying patience. Regulus considered it.

He had a horrible feeling he knew what his brother wanted to talk about, and frankly, Regulus had no interest in entertaining the conversation. Unfortunately, Pandora disagreed. And Pandora tended to get what she wanted.

“That’s a great, idea,” she said, leaning forward, slipping a box labelled Cadets into his palm. Regulus glanced down at it and recognized them as Muggle cigarettes. There had been a whole underground market of them at Hogwarts, something that felt very far away even though it was but a short hike up the hillside.

Regulus sighed, wondering briefly how much of a chance he would have at getting out of this. He glanced over at Pandora. Her wide blue eyes were uncharacteristically hard.

“Yeah, okay,” Regulus acquiesced. Just because he was going to talk to Sirius, didn’t mean he actually had to tell his brother anything, he rationalized.

Leaving the bar didn’t seem to be a novel idea. Regulus noticed that James and Lily were stooping out, talking about finding somewhere in town to grab a bite to eat. The Longbottoms had left as well, probably with a similar idea, in addition to several others in the Order. Most people seemed to take the opportunity to stretch their legs and get out, but Marlene McKinnon was leaning across the bar, convincing Aberforth to open up the kitchen, a task Regulus had no doubt she would be successful in. Dorcas was next to her, staring fondly at her girlfriend. Regulus almost smiled.

Sirius led them around the back side of the bar, into an alley, and Regulus got the distinct impression he was being led into an ambush. The alley was dark, shadows creeping along the floor enough that midday seemed like midnight. It was filled with broken pallets and boxes stuffed with empty pint glasses.

The cool winter air danced across Regulus’s skin, but despite only being dressed in his school robes, he didn’t feel the cold. Regulus hadn’t been feeling much of anything lately.

Regulus stopped before being engulfed entirely in the darkness, folding his arms.

“I think this is far enough,” Regulus said. Sirius turned and offered him a familiar predatory smile that had his chest aching.

“Don’t trust me, brother?” Sirius asked and at one point in time, Regulus might have been able to determine the strange lilt to his brother’s voice, the gleam in his eyes as he leaned against the far alley wall. But he was out of practice. It had been three years since he’s spent longer than a few minutes alone with his brother and Sirius had changed in the time since. He’d grown broader, finally filled out in his chest and arms. No doubt muscles built around necessity; Regulus had heard stories of Sirius’s abilities as a duelist. Sirius’s hair had grown longer too, with no reason anymore to keep it short, to keep out of their mother’s ire. It hung now just below his shoulders, messy and tangled as ever.

Regulus snorted. There were some responses that rose to his mind. What reason have you given me to trust you?

You don’t exactly have the best track record.

But if Regulus said either, this would devolve into a fight. Was that what he wanted? Regulus wasn’t sure. Pandora would be disappointed, for one. And Regulus … he just simply didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. He thought about the Hogwarts Express, set for London in just two days. He thought about the Mark that felt like it was forever burning on his arm.

He thought of a cave and he felt sick.

Regulus popped open the pack of Muggle cigarettes with his thumb and stepped forward, offering one to his brother. Sirius stared down at it. If Regulus hadn’t seen his brother tucked away in every corner of the castle with Lupin, blowing what only the most generous person would call rings of smoke, he’d have thought Sirius had never seen one before.

Dumbledore had taken Regulus’s wand, but Sirius pulled a brightly colored piece of metal from his pocket when he finally took the cigarette and produced a flame, lighting the end. He only raised a single eyebrow when Regulus pulled out another and lit it before Sirius could vanish the fire. Regulus stepped back, taking a drag and trying to let the smoke seep into his bones. He closed his eyes.

It was silent for a moment.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” was what Sirius eventually settled on.

“Don’t,” Regulus replied.

“I didn’t know you knew what a cigarette was.”

Regulus peaked over at his brother at this. Sirius’s grey eyes were trained on him, as if they were taking in every movement Regulus was making, every twitch of his body, pulling information out of him like they were still children, back when Sirius could read him as well as any book in the Black Family library. Regulus took another drag of the cigarette.

“Hm,” he hummed, blowing out the smoke in front of him, as if that might hide whatever expression his face held.

Regulus thought that this might irritate Sirius at worst, anger him at best. But despite the flash in his brother’s eyes, Sirius only clenched his jaw and shook his head, stubbing out his cigarette after only a few drags.

“Regulus, what the fuck are you doing?” his brother finally asked. It clearly wasn’t quite what Sirius had wanted to say because he grimaced after.

Regulus raised a single eyebrow. “Excuse me?” he said, a little startled at Sirius’s outburst. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

“I mean what the fuck are you doing here,” he repeated, stronger, like he thought Regulus was messing with him.

“McGonagall fetched me,” Regulus spoke slowly, settling on this. “Dumbledore requested my presence.” Which was clearly not the answer Sirius wanted.

“And you just fucking agreed?” Sirius hissed and Regulus was getting really tired of the cursing. It was like Sirius had left the house and devolved completely into the ruffian their mother always warned him he’d be.

And here I was thinking you hated proving our mother right. Again, he swallowed the kindling and it burned in his stomach. Instead, Regulus just shrugged, though anger still sparked in Sirius’s eyes.

“Are you an idiot?” his brother asked which Regulus thought was pretty rich. “Like are you actually brain dead? After all the shit you gave me about protecting the family? Do they even know you’re here? School gets out in two bloody days, Reg!” Sirius’s voice was tinged with a panic that took Regulus completely by surprised. He hadn’t expected his brother to be even thinking about that, much less asking Regulus about it.

“I know that,” was all he could think to reply. Of course, he knew that. Obviously, he knew that. He was living on borrowed time, after all. He knew the bloody deadline.

Sirius only looked more incredulous. “Do you? Merlin, Reg. We won’t be done by then, you know! How are you going to explain not going home? What are you going to tell mother?”

Mother won’t notice, Regulus didn’t say. She hasn’t noticed anything since father’s death. Walburga Black made her presence known in a house, if nothing else could be said about her. But since Regulus’s father had died, she had been little more another ghost haunting Grimmauld. Regulus figured he should count this as a blessing. Her eyes never seemed to focus on anything anymore, but especially not him. When she did notice her second son, she often thought he was Sirius or Orion. She sent Kreacher out with nonsensical order, she didn’t seem to know what day it was, and that was if she got out of bed at all.

No, Regulus wasn’t worried about their mother noticing his absence.

“Nothing,” he replied truthfully. Sirius’s eyes only seemed to bulge.

“I don’t understand you,” Sirius said, and wasn’t that the crux of the matter. Wasn’t that really where everything had gone wrong? A boy in red and a boy in green. Like looking in the mirror and not recognizing the stranger who was staring back at you. “Why are you –“ Sirius cut himself off and Regulus gave him a moment to try again but his brother looked like he was still searching for the right words.

“Why am I …?” he prompted. Don’t ask, he begged. Don’t ask because I might just tell you the truth. But Sirius asked something else.

“Why are you helping?” he said like it was the worst thing in the world Regulus could be doing. Regulus’s eyebrows shot up, too surprised to keep the disbelief off his face. That was not what he thought Sirius was going to ask.

“Excuse me?” he stumbled out again, shock making him fall back on those manners their mother had instilled with a sharp tongue and a Stinging jinx. Sirius was just staring at him like he was a particularly hard puzzle he was trying to solve.

“You’re here, at an Order meeting, sitting next to Pandora Lovegood, telling Lily Evans of all people family secrets? I’m sorry, who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Sirius said, aghast.

Regulus frowned. “I’ve not been spilling family secrets,” he said firmly. Spilling secrets is your thing, isn’t it? Regulus again dismissed the temptation to throw this into a fight.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well you’ve certainly been telling a bunch of vigilantes anything they want to know about your Lord.”

Regulus turned away. “I thought you would have appreciated the information,” he said stiffly. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

“You’re chatting it up with Lily Evans.” That was the second time his brother had mentioned the redhead.

“Isn’t it Potter now?” he asked, not quite understanding why Sirius was still calling the girl by her maiden name. “And besides, I thought you liked her.” he said, frowning. Sirius just looked at him like Regulus had completely missed the point.

“She’s Muggleborn,” his brother said, a little redundantly. Regulus rolled his eyes.

“I know she’s Muggleborn,” he scoffed. Honestly, how stupid did Sirius think he was?

“Since when – “ Sirius cut himself off, giving Regulus a strange look. “You just said Muggleborn,” he said. Regulus frowned, ready to snap that of course he had said Muggleborn, Sirius had just said she was Muggleborn, when it sunk in what his brother meant.

Regulus closed his mouth, glancing away. He felt strangely like he’d been caught.

“I guess,” he shrugged. He could feel Sirius’s eye still trained on him.

“Regulus,” Sirius said timidly. “What’s going on?”

Regulus just shook his head, regretting for a moment, the missed opportunity to end this conversation like so many others through the years. Sirius was like a dog with a bone when he caught scent of something amiss and just then, Regulus felt very studied.

“You never had a problem with the blood supremacy stuff before,” Sirius said, watching Regulus carefully.

Regulus had no idea what he thought before. He hadn’t actually needed to consider it, the path he was on irrelevant to his feelings on the matter, no matter how much Sirius had tried to insist it wasn’t. It had been easier, not to consider it. What did it matter, anyways, whether he believed it, or just pretended to?

“Things change,” Regulus said through gritted teeth. So much had already, even without this bizarre task. So much was about to.

Sirius looked like he didn’t quite know what to say to that.

“What does mum think about that?” Sirius asked, trying to make his voice sound biting. It came out a little too soft for Regulus to be fooled. Regulus pursed his lips.

“Mother doesn’t do much coherent thinking these days,” he said evasively. Sirius frowned.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Regulus was quiet for a long moment, searching for an answer that might get Sirius to drop it. Then, finally, he shrugged.

“Ever since father died, she hasn’t been … present,” he said delicately. Sirius wasn’t quite understanding.

“She’s never been present,” he said bitterly. But Regulus just shook his head, looking a little frustrated.

“I mean, mentally. She isn’t …” he trailed off again. “Losing father was hard on her. She loved him. She doesn’t know what’s happening most days. She calls out for him.” She calls out for you, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t hate his brother that much.

Sirius snorted, “Mum didn’t love anything, and she certainly didn’t love Orion.”

Regulus shook his head. “I didn’t think so either,” he admitted. “Not until the funeral.” And how horrible was that? To only find out that his parents loved each other at his father’s funeral. Walburga Black was a stoic woman. The only emotion Regulus had ever seen her wield with any consistency was anger, and it could bite in different ways. But this new woman, the one Regulus had been stuck with since his father’s death? Regulus didn’t know what to do with her. Didn’t know which end of the viper the fangs laid on, and he’d been cautious to poke it ever since.

“Not that you’d know,” Regulus tried coldly, hoping the barb might land on Sirius, desperate for an emotion with a hard edge to hold to. Unfortunately, the blow did strike, just not in the way Regulus expected. Sirius’s eyes dropped.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said and that alone nearly knocked Regulus off his feet. The cigarette, long since burnt out, slipped from his fingers and Regulus stilled. He felt like a Squeezing hex had been placed on his chest. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, his father’s black coffin lowered into the ground. His mother hadn’t said a word, Bellatrix’s platitudes were flat at best, Narcissa could only offer so much comfort. He didn’t expect it. He had told himself he didn’t. That whole day Regulus told himself he wouldn’t come. But that didn’t stop his traitorous eyes from wandering the horizon, hoping to catch, at the very least, a familiar figure lingering about the edges of the cemetery. But all he’d seen were other mourners and an atmospherically appropriate black hound, pacing among the graves. He still wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t imagined the latter.

Regulus had left disappointed. Something he’d once promised himself he would never let his brother make him feel again.

Regulus couldn’t meet Sirius’s eyes. “I thought – “ he cut himself off. I thought you would come. Not for dad, for me. I thought you would come. Where were you?

But Regulus swallowed his words. He still had at least a little bit of dignity left.

“You were wearing blue,” Sirius blurted out and Regulus turned to him, the corners of his wide eyes suspiciously wet. Sirius looked just as stunned that he spoke, his mouth gaping open. “You – uh – “ he stuttered, trying to get his words out. “You wore blue,” he said again. “I thought that was – I don’t know. I never see you in anything but green,” was what he finally settled on.

Regulus couldn’t force himself to speak; words building a dam in his throat.

“Alphard got me the cloak. For my sixteenth,” he finally choked out, hating the way his voice cracked on his uncle’s name. Regulus watched Sirius’s eyes grow wide – though if it is at the mention of their deceased and subsequently disowned uncle being spoken about with such reverence, or at the birthday for a brother he once promised to spend together having long since passed, Regulus didn’t know.

“Oh,” was all Sirius said.

I looked for you, Regulus wanted to say but that was far too desperate. Where were you? Far too vulnerable. Sirius had been there. He had come. Regulus hadn’t seen him, but he’d been there. He must’ve been. Something in Regulus’s chest cracked, like a Bone-breaking curse had been fired straight into his ribcage, but it was warmth that seeped out. Regulus glanced down the alley hoping that the flickering of his eyes might simply look like he was just looking about the area, and not waiting for them to dry.

“Is that all?” Regulus asked stiffly once he got his voice under control. When Regulus glanced back at Sirius, any hope his brother hadn’t noticed was dashed by the look of pity of Sirius’s face. Regulus clenched his jaw. “That’s all,” he said definitively, turning to go.

“Wait,” Sirius surged forward, stopping short just before grabbing Regulus’s arm. Regulus froze at the sudden movement and Sirius leaned back. “Just – one more thing?”

When Regulus turned back, his face was blank. “Yes?” he asked. Sirius suddenly looked very unsure, shifting on his feet, like he was off balance.

“How’s seventh year?” he finally choked out. Regulus stared at him dumbly. The winter chill was starting to set in, and Regulus allowed a flicker of irritation to show on his face.

“School?” he asked, voice bland. “That’s what you want to know about?”

Sirius shrugged awkwardly. “Well, yeah.”

Regulus stared back at him for the longest time, debating an actual answer. School was terrible. It was nonexistent. Regulus couldn’t care less about his NEWTs. He’d be dead before the new year. He was lucky Hogwarts had Anti-Apparition wards. He was avoiding his friends. He was surrounded by enemies.

He absolutely could not tell Sirius any of that.

“It’s been fine.”

Sirius looked remarkably like a child then, kicking his foot at the ground.

“You quit Quidditch?” he asked, still not meeting Regulus’s eyes. Regulus shrugged stiffly.

Finally, Sirius glanced up, grey eyes sad.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

Because what’s the point, Regulus wanted to say. Because I didn’t want to leave Erica Vanity in the middle of a season. Because I owed her sister that much.

“It just … “ Regulus trailed off, thinking of the lies he told others. He was taking too many classes. He wanted to focus on after graduation. He wanted to focus on the Cause.

Regulus hadn’t studied all semester. He wouldn’t make it past graduation. The Cause … the fucking Cause.

Regulus was so tired of lying.

“Just didn’t feel like it,” he sighed. Sirius frowned.

“You love Quidditch,” he said confidently.

“Well I don’t anymore,” Regulus snapped back, patience at once gone. Sirius just snorted.

“Please, you’ve been almost as into the Quidditch in these books as James,” he waved his hand behind him as if Potter might be lurking there. “It’s been genuinely disturbing,” Sirius said with a small smile. Something in Regulus felt like it was snapping.

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“I have not,” Regulus denied, which was probably the stupidest thing he could have said. Categorically false. It was always better to get caught in a vague truth than an outright lie and Regulus saw Sirius’s eyes immediately latch to the falsity. His stomach sank.

“You love Quidditch,” Sirius repeated, stronger this time, and his narrowed grey eyes were searching Regulus again, looking for any tell. Regulus’s heart skipped. His throat felt raw and the winter air was stinging his eyes and suddenly the shadows in the alley felt like they were creeping toward him, chilling his bones. It was like the floor he’d been standing on had suddenly become water and his head had all at once slipped beneath the waves.

“And I just don’t understand – “

“Oh please,” Regulus cut in, practically sneering, heart pounding loud now in his ears. He felt desperate and cornered and like any viper his first instinct was to strike. “We both know why I’m here, Sirius, and it’s not to do with being Quidditch captain.”

He watched Sirius’s face freeze as Regulus all but confirmed what they had been dancing around since Sirius had first pulled him out of the bar.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “That’s what you really want to know isn’t it?” he taunted. “What you’ve been too afraid to ask?” He laughed mirthlessly. “Ironic that. A Gryffindor too afraid to ask a simple question.”

And any chance at ending in a civil conversation went up in smoke. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

“Guess I don’t need to ask,” he said, his voice rougher than Regulus would have preferred. Regulus stood perfectly still. “That’s it then. You got it?” he asked anyway. When Regulus didn’t reply immediately, he watched Sirius’s face shutter. Then, Sirius slammed his hand into the side of the building. “Merlin, Regulus. You’re so fucking stupid.”

Regulus didn’t bite and Sirius just got even more agitated with the silence.

“You must have jumped at the chance, right?” his brother ranted, breathing hard. “Not like you couldn’t have just kept your head down. No, you wanted this.” Sirius’s voice got harder as he picked up steam.

Regulus grit his teeth “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he scoffed. “It’s dangerous being an undecided family, Sirius,” he explained evenly. “I couldn’t have that.”

Sirius snorted. “All you had to do was stay out of it! The Prewetts are a neutral family.”

Regulus almost rolled his eyes. Of course, Sirius would think their family was in any way comparable to the Prewetts. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

And maybe Regulus had underestimated Sirius, thought that since his brother had worn red and gold for so long, he was somehow less practiced in drawing out the fangs. Admittedly, Regulus made a mistake. Assumed that in those years away his brother wouldn’t know exactly where to hit Regulus back.

“You’re not a fucking child anymore, Regulus, and you’re not a damned martyr,” Sirius snarled. “I know you’re stupid but you’re not an idiot! You could have said no. Nobody forced you into anything. You’ve always had agency and what did you do with it? You signed up with Voldemort the first chance you got!” Sirius took a shaky breath. “I don’t feel bad for you,” he said evenly, eyes blazing. “You had the option to stay out of it, but you didn’t want to!”

“You weren’t staying out of it, Sirius!” Regulus exploded back and suddenly all he could hear in his ears was the pounding of his own heart, like waves crashing on the inside of his skull. “Don’t stand there and tell me what my fucking options were. Running away to the Potters? Joining the Order? You did that. And what, you thought that wouldn’t come back to us?”

Regulus didn’t expect his words to have any impact but clearly Sirius hadn’t expected them. He froze for a moment before shaking his head. “I was disowned by then,” he snapped. Regulus snorted derisively.

“You know better than that,” he spat. “You can run from it all you want, Sirius but you’re a Black. It may as well be stamped on your fucking forehead.”

And Regulus could see the words nestle their way into Sirius’s head. If Regulus were a better person, he might feel guilty at the obvious hurt that flashed across his brother’s face. Regulus had found a bruise and he’d pressed into it just as quickly. Sirius knew it was the truth. Even in there, even with the Order, everyone saw his dark hair, his silver eyes, and they knew. They knew like Alastor Moody knew, his suspicious gaze flicking to Sirius as much as it had Regulus and Severus. The flash of an argument with Lupin earlier that day, even as the other man sat by his side, casual as ever in the next moment. It was a barb Regulus hadn’t even intended to hit, and now that he had, all he seemed to be able to do was twist.

“I had to do something,” Regulus said, and he told himself he wasn’t trying to explain, he wasn’t pleading for understanding. He told himself his voice sounded far more even than it did. He told himself he wasn’t lying to himself.

“I had to make sure they were safe,” Regulus continued, forcing his face to wipe off any emotion. “And I know you don’t care if we all died in horrible ways, but I do. And I’m not so selfish as to run away from that.” Regulus spit out. Sirius has accused Regulus of a lot of things over the years, but selfish had always been the insult that Regulus threw back at his face and he could see it hit this time.

“You left,” Regulus continued, voice shaking as he turned back to the Hog’s Head.

“And you don’t get to judge me for how I cleaned up your mess.”

Chapter Text

When Regulus came back into the Hog’s Head, he was crying. Sure, tears weren’t running down his cheeks, he wasn’t making a single noise, his face was as blank and stoic as ever. Maybe to others his hard eyes and silence would have seemed like anger. But Pandora knew better.

“I suppose your talk went well?” Pandora said pleasantly, pushing half a sandwich from Aberforth toward the boy as he sat down, unfazed by his silence. Sybil had struck up a conversation with Caradoc by the bar, but Snape still sat across from the pair, pretending to take an interest in the floorboards.

“Why the bloody hell did you make me talk to him?” Regulus said coldly and Pandora winced, not quite realizing it had gone that poorly.

“Come on, Reg – “ she started.

“Don’t call me Reg,” he bit out.

“You’ve been sneaking glancing at your brother all day when you think no one is looking. We’re all clearly going to be stuck here for a while. Don’t you think this is as good a chance as any to reach out?” she asked calmly, nudging the sandwich even closer. Regulus didn’t even glance at it, instead looking at her incredulously.

“Reach out? First, what in Merlin’s name have I done that would make you think I want to reach out?” he started, and Pandora frowned, thinking she had already covered that.

“You’re looking at him ever few paragraphs, Regulus – “ she began to repeat.

“Second,” he interrupted, “How bloody long are we going to be stuck here?” At this, Snape glanced up, clearly shamelessly eavesdropping. His intense dark eyes bore into her, waiting an answer.

Pandora rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. You were always better at conversions than me. If a book and half takes an evening and the following morning, seven books …” she trailed off and Regulus looked horrified.

“Five days?” He finished, aghast. Pandora shrugged.

“At least,” she said glibly. “I think Billie said some of the later books are longer. It will probably be closer to a week.”

Regulus scoffed in disgust.

“So,” she continued brightly. “What did you talk about?” she asked.

Regulus rolled her eyes. As angry as he seemed to get, he never seemed to direct any of it towards her. And Pandora took profuse advantage of that.

“What do you think?” he asked acerbically. Pandora pondered that for a moment.

“Quidditch?” she guessed, and the way Regulus’s face dropped and then soured answered her question. Pandora sighed and leaned into her friend. He was stiff and rigid in his seat, feeling more stone than man in that moment.

“I didn’t know you quit Quidditch,” she said softly, mostly sad. She had never been one for the sport herself, but she had loved going to the games when Regulus had been playing. She felt like she only understood the sport when he was on the pitch.

Regulus’s face did something strange: spasming through a few different emotions before going blank and distant. She wanted to shake him awake. Sometimes, talking to Regulus was like speaking to someone asleep, her words trickling off him like light rain.

Pandora tossed her hair over her shoulder, smile growing on her face.

“How else are you going to keep in shape?” she asked. Then, she leaned over and poked Regulus’s stomach, which was a gamble in and of itself, but Regulus just folded down on the touch, swatting her hand away and glaring over at her. She hadn’t crossed the line just yet, so she gave him an innocent smile.

“Spending a little too much time in the kitchens, are we?” Pandora teased and Regulus stared at her blankly for a moment before his face dropped in relief. He rolled his eyes.

“As if Tippy would ever overfeed me,” he snorted, referring to the nervous elf that spent far too much time fretting over Regulus’s dietary options.

Pandora’s grinned took over her face this time.

Just then, Sybil made her way back to the table, and Pandora noticed that most of the other members of the Order had found their seats, including Sirius, who had come in at some point with the Potters and was now joking with Remus, not looking in the direction of his brother at all.

“Are we all here?” McGonagall asked, eyes raking over the bar. Those who had left for lunch were settling down, while others who had elected to stay here still had some half-finished meals in front of them. Pandora glanced again at the sandwich she had slowly been pushing closer to Regulus and noticed a small bite taken out of the side.

She hid her smile.

“Alright, who wants to read next?” McGonagall asked, taking the book from Caradoc, who had kept it close to him during the break.

“Give it here,” Moody said gruffly, holding his hand. McGonagall passed it to him.

“Chapter Nine,” the old Auror read. “The Writing on the Wall.”

Pandora could feel Regulus stiffen beside her, her previous work of releasing the tension now moot. The atmosphere in the Hog’s Head simmered down into an eerie sort of quiet as they remembered what had last been described in the book: the words painted on the walls of a Hogwarts corridor. Pandora felt sick to her stomach herself at the thought of Mrs. Norris hanging there.

“’What’s going on here? What’s going on?’ … ‘My cat! My cat!’”

Pandora closed her eyes, trying to will the image of Mrs. Norris hanging there out of her head. It was by far not the worst that had happened in the books yet, and Pandora had no doubt the stories would only get darker. She’d been kept awake by Sybil’s ravings for months now, she knew nothing good awaited them.

“’What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?’ … ‘You!’”

Lily let out an indignant sound.

“He cannot honestly be blaming Harry for this!” she argued fiercely. Pandora knew that the Hogwarts caretaker cared little for rational thought when it came to determining onus, mostly driven by revenge and anger.

Emmeline shook her head sadly. “I think he’s just looking for anyone to blame,” the Ravenclaw offered glumly.

“’You! You’ve murdered my cat!’ … ‘You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger.’”

A few shoulders around the room dropped when Dumbledore appeared, a level head to calm the situation. Pandora’s heart ached for Argus, but it was clear that the children had nothing to do with it.

“Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. … Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on a polished surface and began to examine her.”

At this, Caradoc, next to Edgar, raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Headmaster, clearly a question on his mind. Pandora thought that the other man could have been onto something with the petrification theory. Hopefully, a simple counter spell could return Mrs. Norris to her normal state.

“Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching. … ‘I know the very counter curse that could have saved her …’”

“Shut up,” Gideon muttered under his breath. The Ravenclaw seemed to have a problem with Lockhart at the best of times, and these certainly weren’t those. Pandora had never had the misfortune of meeting Gilderoy Lockhart, but she was sure that she wouldn’t grow fonder of him as the books continued. Even though Ravenclaw was often assumed to be the house of knowledge, the houses truly sorted based off what a person values. Unfortunately, it seemed Lockhart valued knowledge, just not necessarily his own.

“Lockhart’s comments were punctuated by Filch’s dry, racking sobs. … If Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled for sure.”

At this, Marlene rolled her eyes. “That boy has to stop jumping to expulsion. Dumbledore isn’t going to kick him out.”

Perhaps it was because she was sitting so close, but only Pandora and a few others seemed to hear Snape mutter under his breath,

“Even if he had killed the cat he wouldn’t have been kicked out.”

Across the room, much too far to hear, Remus stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Pandora frowned, not quite knowing what the other boy was referring to. As referenced in the previous book, she knew there had been some incident between James and Snape, and while rumors had certainly spread that it would lead to one or both boy’s expulsion, it seemed the only one who truly came close to being expelled had been Sirius, who didn’t seem to hear Snape at all.

“Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand, but nothing happened. … ‘She’s not dead, Argus,’ he said softly.”

The room seemed to let out a collective sigh. Well, almost the whole room. Caradoc’s mouth flattened into a line and McGonagall shook her head worriedly.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Emmeline sighed, clearly relieved. Pandora didn’t think anyone in the room held much fondness for their old caretaker, but it was clear none of them thought that Mrs. Norris deserved to suffer for that.

“Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented. … ‘She has been petrified,’ said Dumbledore.”

“Petrified?” Frank echoed, confused. Next to him, his wife shook her head.

“It must have been more powerful than a body bind, if Dumbledore couldn’t lift the curse,” Alice said next to him. The pair exchanged worried glances.

Pandora frowned. She wasn’t aware of many Petrifying curses, but the ones she knew should be able to be lifted with Finite Incantantum. If Dumbledore hadn’t lifted the curse, it didn’t bode well. There were potions that might cause petrification, of course, but those would wear off in a few hours. She knew of some extreme versions of petrification, usually brought about by runes or magical creatures that would be more difficult to cure, but of course, the point of petrification was that it wasn’t permanent.

“Albus,” Caradoc was looking gravely at the Headmaster, a knowing and haunted look in his eyes. He was clearly worried about what this mean in terms of the Chamber.

Dumbledore’s sad eyes flickered over to him. “We can’t jump to conclusions,” the old man said, but the resigned tone in which he spoke made Pandora think he had already made up his mind.

Caradoc shook his head. “The message was clear,” he started but Dumbledore cut him off.

“Didn’t the last book teach us that?”

Caradoc sighed tiredly. “If Mrs. Norris truly is petrified, we at the very least have a copycat on our hands.” He glanced at McGonagall, who next to him looked vaguely sick. “Pardon the pun Minerva.”

McGonagall looked mildly irritated, though his brought a faint smile to Dumbledore’s lips.

“Anyone want to fill the rest of us in? What exactly happened in the last time the Chamber was opened?” Gideon asked, annoyed.

“Allegedly opened,” McGonagall corrected tiredly. “It happened in 1943. Several students were found petrified in the hallways. The school was ready to close,” she said gravely. Pandora felt a coldness wash over her. She’d never even heard of Hogwarts considering to close, even during the worst of the war. It had always been seen as a safe haven.

“I don’t understand, a monster was petrifying students?” Emmeline asked with a frown.

Remus shrugged. “It’s not unheard of. A Gorgon would be the most common in these parts, but other dark creatures possess the ability.”

If there was ever any information that Pandora wanted about Slytherin, there was always one person who she would turn to, and she was sat next to him, distant frown on his face, not seeming to pay much mind to the others’ conversation. She gave him a small nudge. Regulus jumped, grey eyes darting over to her frown.

Okay? she mouthed, and Regulus seemed to actually consider her question before nodding.

Later, he mouthed back.

“But surely a dark creature would be noticed on the grounds, or in the Forbidden Forest?” Sirius said. Pandora focused back in on the discussion. Remus grimaced at the question, shooting a warning look at Sirius who seemed immediately cowed. No one else seemed to notice.

“There’s no way a monster would be able to survive inside a room in the castle for that long,” Dorcas pointed out, oblivious to the tension. Caradoc sighed.

“And that is just one of the unexplained parts of the legend,” the older man sighed. With a brief pause, Moody began reading again.

“’But how, I cannot say … ‘ ‘Ask him!’ shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.”

“Oh, please,” James scoffed, throwing his hands uselessly in the air.

“’No second year could have done this,’ said Dumbledore firmly. ‘It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced – ‘”

“This is ridiculous,” Marlene said angrily. Her eyes turned on Snape at the front of the room. “We all know who is most proficient in Dark Magic at the school.”

“Ms. McKinnon – “ Dumbledore started patiently. But before he could finish, Snape scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Please, as if I’d bother,” he said disdainfully.

“That’s the only thing stopping you is it?” she challenged, pent up anger from the past day clearly boiling over. “Not interesting enough?” she gave a derisive laugh. “Well, I have to agree with you there. Petrification is hardly the darkest of the arts!”

“Marlene,” Dorcas said worriedly. She seemed surprised by her girlfriend’s outburst, reaching out to place a calming hand on her arm.

Marlene shook her off. “No, I’ve had enough. Congratulations to all the rest of you for having better control of your anger, but this is absolutely bullshit! I swear, I feel like I’m about to rip out my own mind, it’s mental.” She stood from her chair, turning to Dumbledore. “How in the hell are you just letting him sit there? I know you know what he did to Mary!” There were tears threatening the corners of her eyes when she finished and wherever the rest of the room thought Marlene was going with her tirade, it clearly wasn’t to Mary MacDonald, who Pandora remembered as a kind but fiery Gryffindor the year above her. Dormmates with Marlene and Lily.

“Ms. McKinnon,” McGonagall said softly, and Marlene seemed to stop in her tracks at the voice of her old head of house. Marlene’s wide eyes looked at McGonagall with something close to betrayal.

“I didn’t do anything to MacDonald,” Snape said quietly in the dead air. For a moment, no one in the room seemed to really hear his words, still staring at Marlene. At the table in the center, Lily’s head was down, tears streaming down her face.

Then Marlene spun on Snape. “Mulciber, Avery, you. It’s all the same isn’t it. You didn’t do anything? No, that’s right, you did nothing. You just stood by and watched.”

Pandora had heard rumors. The kind but fiery girl in the year above her did have, at one point, a rather spoiled ginger cat. It went missing. A few days later, Mary was coming out of the hospital wing with scratches, red eyes, and a haunted look that never really left her face ever again. Allegedly, it had been Slytherins in the same year, Augustus Mulciber and a few of his friends had been seen called to the Headmaster’s office, but people had gotten their story straight quickly. Of course, no one could ever prove that the Slytherins had been using the Imperius curse. Practicing, most of the whispers seemed to agree.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Snape’s voice was quiet, not threatening. More weak. Tinged with something Pandora thought was shocking close to guilt. It surprised her, and clearly Marlene as well, who only stared at the boy now, jaw tense and glare steady, but she didn’t say anything more.

“Perhaps we could keep reading,” Dumbledore’s usually pleasant tone had hardened, making it clear that the conversation was over.

“’He did it, he did it!’” Moody continued after a nudge from Edgar, who looked a little shaken from the argument. Marlene had sat back down, arms crossed. Next to her, Dorcas had put an arm around the other girl, rubbing her shoulder. “Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. … ‘If I might speak, Headmaster,’ said Snape from the shadows, and Harry’s sense of foreboding increased.”

James tensed. He’d been quiet the majority of the argument so far, but now, his hard eyes turned on Snape, as if in warning.

“He was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good. … ‘Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?’”

Sirius scoffed, like he had expected nothing less. After Marlene’s outburst, the tension of the room was only seeming to climb. Pandora wasn’t sure they would make it through this book, not to mention the books that were still to come.

“Harry, Ron and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the deathday party. … ‘Why go through the corridor?’”

James’s jaw clenched. Pandora looked over as well, shocked. The voice. Did Snape know something about it? Snape hadn’t met anyone’s eyes since Marlene had yelled at him, glaring down at the floor. Pandora couldn’t help but again question why he was here. She glanced over at Sybil, who she was shocked to see was also watching Snape. And her sister’s expression … she looked at the other boy with pity.

“Ron and Hermione looked at Harry. … ‘It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest.’”

“Oh, you’d love that wouldn’t you?” James spat, clearly done holding in his own anger. Snape was all too quick to take the bait, neck snapping in the direction of James.

“He’s lying,” Snape started, lip curling.

“Oh, because you’re the paragon of honesty,” James cut in. Snape’s eyes glittered dangerously.

“You want to talk secrets?” he said lowly and surprisingly, James’s mouth snapped shut. Pandora noticed Regulus narrow his eyes at the interaction.

“Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore’s normally serene voice was sharp with rebuke. “I don’t believe I need to remind you of the circumstances here.” Snape froze at the other man’s words before hunching back down in his seat. Pandora wasn’t sure that the remark would stay the other boy’s tongue for long, but it seemed at least to do the trick for now.

In the silence that followed, Moody began reading again.

“’Really, Severus,’ said Professor McGonagall sharply. … ‘There is no evidence that Potter has done anything wrong.’”

Pandora felt a flicker of relief at McGonagall defending Harry. Her old Hogwarts Transfiguration Professor still seemed bothered by Marlene’s earlier argument, but she watched the book intently now. Pandora hadn’t actually thought that the boy would face consequences, but she thought it was good for him to hear an adult stand up for him for once. Across the room, James similarly relaxed, shooting a grateful smile at his old Head of House.

“Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. … ‘You may go,’ Dumbledore said to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.”

“Thank Godric,” Sirius muttered under his breath, throwing one last dirty took Snape’s way. Mercifully, the other boy didn’t seem to be looking.

“They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. … ‘D’you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?’”

“No,” Sirius said immediately, as if Harry could hear his answer. Next to him, Lily raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore also looked at him, almost a little amused.

“Maybe Dumbledore later,” Sirius explained a little sheepishly. He shook his head. “But that was a shit show.”

“’No,’ said Ron, without hesitation. “Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the Wizarding world.’”

Lily frowned. “But surely it isn’t just Harry that can hear the voice? I mean – how would that even happen?”

No one seemed to have an answer for her. Pandora glanced over at Sybil, who had seemed to grow smaller and smaller in the room as the readings continued, getting quieter and quieter. Hearing voices wasn’t always a bad thing.

“Something in Ron’s voice made Harry ask, ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’ ‘Course I do,’ said Ron quickly. ‘But – you must admit it’s weird …’”

“It is weird,” Pandora said. She glanced at her sister. “But that doesn’t mean bad.”

Sybil shot her a grateful look and Pandora reached over, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze.

“I know it’s weird,’ said Harry. … ‘The Chamber Has Been Opened … What’s that supposed to mean?’”

“What exactly happened in the 40s?” Gideon asked, clearly trying to approach this as logically as possible. “Why did people begin suspecting the Chamber had been opened then? Was there a message then as well?”

McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore. “I started at Hogwarts a few years after this,” the woman said slowly. Pandora’s eyes widened, unable to imagine her professor as anything other than a fully capable and grown witch. “There were rumors all about the school, but nothing about the Chamber.”

Caradoc shook his head. “That’s because you came later, Minerva. You started in what, ’47?” he asked, and McGonagall gave a short nod. Caradoc sighed. “The attacks happened in ’43. Sure, there were no messages written in blood, but all anyone could talk about at the time was the Chamber. It seemed the less evidence there was it had been opened, the more likely it became.” At this, Gideon’s face scrunched together like he had tasted something sour.

“It might have been the mystery that fueled the rumors,” Regulus suggested quietly, but it seemed most of the room still heard him, eyes turning to the front of the room. Finally, Dumbledore sighed.

“I’m afraid that’s probably true,” the old man started slowly. He seemed to age as he talked, voice becoming wearier with every word. “It seemed likely that if the Heir of Slytherin truly had come to Hogwarts and opened the Chamber, it would benefit him or her to have this remain a secret.”

Gideon frowned. “But obviously, it got out.” He pointed out. Dumbledore nodded.

“I’m afraid Hogwarts can never hold a secret for long,” he said and at this, he seemed to be referring to more than one thing.

“But they never caught the Heir,” Gideon prompted.

“Unfortunately, after a student died, the rumors only got worse,” Dumbledore’s voice was riddled with age. “Once the investigation pointed to a particular student, Dippet handed him over to authorities.” Dumbledore shook his head. “I never agreed.”

“And everyone was just okay with that?” Sirius asked angrily, his dark grey eyes flashing. Caradoc sighed, running a hand through his dark speckled hair, seeming defeated about the subject.

“There were no more attacks afterwards,” Caradoc explained. At this, Fabian frowned, freckles pinching together at his nose.

“Attacks? How exactly was the student killed?” his twin asked. “If the other students were petrified, why was did this last one end up dead?”

Dumbledore sighed. “Unfortunately, we don’t know.”

“At the time, it was just another inconsistency with the theory about Slytherin’s monster,” McGonagall explained. She shook her head, tired lines creasing her forehead.

Remus lips turned down. “Well how did they die, then?” he asked, clearly thinking this might shed light onto what sort of monster they might be dealing with. McGonagall grimaced.

“We don’t know that either,” the woman admitted. He tight black bun had been shaken loose, and dark strands fell into her eyes as she glanced at the table in front of her.

Gideon shook his head, amazed. “How don’t you know that? Were diagnostic spells performed on the body?”

Caradoc’s face creased with even more lines, souring at the comment. “They might have been,” the older man said, tone flat. “Had a body been found.” At this, Sirius’s dark eyebrows shot up.

“How do you even know the student died then?” the boy asked, seeming incredulous. “Couldn’t they have gone missing?”

This time, it was McGonagall who sighed, pushing the loose hair from her face. “Her ghost,” she said sadly. “She never left the place she died.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. Then, Emmeline’s jaw dropped open.

“Myrtle,” she said. Dumbledore nodded sadly.

“Myrtle Warren. She was a fifth year at the time. A kind girl,” he said sadly. Pandora’s mind swam with this information. Around the Hog’s Head, quiet settled over everyone like a blanket, stifling any further conversation. Eventually, Moody continued to read.

“’You know, it rings a sort of bell,’ said Ron slowly. … To his surprise, Ron stifles a snigger.”

Pandora saw Gideon grimace at his nephew’s lack of tact.

“’Well – it’s not funny really – but as it’s Filch, … ‘I just hope he’s got time to Petrify Filch before he’s expelled. I’m only joking – ‘ Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.”

Fabian sighed at Ron’s attempt to cheery up Ginny. They seemed to be handling the incident about as well as Pandora could hope from twelve-year-olds. It likely helped that Mrs. Norris had only been petrified, but Pandora wasn’t sure any child, no matter how well adjusted, should just be able to shake off seeing a threatening message painted in blood.

“The attack had also had an effect of Hermione. … Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction.”

James frowned at the description of how the other children were reacting, but Pandora caught on almost immediately. Her heart sank, exhaustion pulling her down in her chair. She played with the ends of her blond hair, twisting ringlets around her fingers.

“They must think he is the heir,” she murmured sadly.

“Harry found Ron at the back of the library, measuring his History of Magic homework. … Hermione put up her hand.”

Sirius snorted, the sound almost sounding like a laugh. “I don’t know if Binns would even know what to do with a raised hand,” he said lightly, earning a few tired smiles from the room.

“Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed. … ‘I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets,’ said Hermione in a clear voice.”

Pandora leaned forward, hoping the book would finally shed some light on the discussion. As interesting as the talk about the Chamber in the 40s had been, what truly mattered was if the Chamber was opened now.

“Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; … ‘Please, sir, don’t legends always have a basis in fact?’”

Gideon chuckled. “Well, that’s true,” he said, seeming a little proud.

Caradoc smiled as well. “Smart girl.”

“Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Harry was sure no student have ever interrupted him before, alive or dead. … ‘A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. … ‘The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.’”

“Typical,” Sirius muttered, seeming to lose interest as soon as the nature of the legend was revealed.

Caradoc gave him a fond look but didn’t seem troubled by this. “There are conflicting stories,” the other man admitted. “Others say the Chamber was to protect the school from outside threat, or to purge those with ill intensions. Most sources agree that Slytherin didn’t leave specific instructions on for whatever was inside.”

“The story was changed over time,” Regulus said, his face more of a question, but his tone a statement. “Fitting whatever the controlling narrative was,” he said. Caradoc nodded in agreement.

Pandora understood. Sybil had tried to explain to her once, when her sister was still small, Pandora ever smaller, and visions had just begun tearing at her Sight. Each time she Saw the future, she was looking at it from the present. Pandora had been too young to understand. Perhaps she hadn’t quite understood until she was pulling memories from her sister’s head, curing parchment in potion, and binding seven books. The past, just like the future, was always viewed with a lens from the present.

“There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn’t the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns’s classes. … ‘A tale told to frighten the gullible.’”

Lily groaned into her hands, rubbing her face. “Why do I have a bad feeling about all of this?” she seemed to ask no one in particular.

James only frowned bushy eyebrows pulling together. He glanced over at Peter. “How could we have missed a secret room?” the man asked rather nonsensically to Pandora at least. Peter, whose rounded face color with pink, seemed to understand.

“I – I ran the entire castle,” he defended.

“What on earth are you two talking about?” Emmeline asked suspiciously, dark eyes narrowed at the pair but both Peter and James clammed up immediately. Remus shot the two a warning look.

“Nothing,” said James in a way that made it clear it was absolutely not nothing. Emmeline, however, seemed used to the four’s antics, and seemed to let it go.

“Hermione’s hand was back in the air. … ‘But sir,’ said Seamus Finnigan, “if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin’s true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?’”

Caradoc shook his head. “A number of wizards can claim a bloodline to Slytherin,” he said wearily. Regulus’s lips turned downward, sharp eyes darting over toward Caradoc.

“But none can claim to be his Heir,” Regulus pointed out. When Caradoc’s weary hazel eyes met Regulus’s, the older man nodded.

“That’s true,” Caradoc admitted. “The Sayres fled to America, they might have been the most direct descendants.” Regulus ran his teeth across his bottom lip.

“Even the Sallows died out at the turn of the century,” the other boy seemed more to be thinking aloud, but Caradoc nodded thoughtfully as well. At this, Sirius rolled his eyes, something sharp and broken in them, his voice a little rough when he spoke.

“Alright, enough out of the genealogy encyclopedias, please,” he snapped. Caradoc seemed to take the rebuke as a complement, while Regulus glanced away, pale silver eyes trained on the floor. Pandora reached over, brushing his arm with hers and offering grounding contact.

“Nonsense, O’Flaherty,’ said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. … Harry had never told Ron and Hermione that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin.”

James shook his head resolutely. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he said boldly. Regulus’s eyes snapped his way immediately.

“It doesn’t mean anything bad,” the younger boy challenged lightly. James only rolled his eyes at this but Lily shot him a grateful look.

“He could remember, as though it were yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he’d placed the hat on his head a year before: You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. … better be Gryffindor … “

Dorcas sighed, the dark-skinned witch looking a little lost in thought as Harry recounted what the Hat had told him about Slytherin. It had never been a question for Pandora, what House she was going into. The Hat had hardly been on her head long enough to exchange pleasantries before it had shouted her fate to the world: Ravenclaw. And there had never been any doubt, even after that day.

“As they were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevy went past. … ‘That I’m Slytherin heir, I expect.’”

Sirius shook his head. “That makes no sense,” the man said, running another hand through his already dishelmed hair. “For one, he’s a Gryffindor.” Regulus rolled his eyes at this.

James’s face pinched together as well. “For two, I fairly certain he’s not descended from Slytherin.”

“He’s a Parselmouth,” Regulus said suddenly, and several eyes shot to him. Regulus sat up in his chair, eyes darting to the table with his brother, but this time, settling on a different boy entirely “In the first book, remember? He spoke to that snake.”

James’s eyes widened.

“That – “ he started. “But that – “ the other man frowned. “But we’re not related to Slytherin,” James said more firmly this time. He glanced at Caradoc, seeming for support. The other man grimaced.

“The Peverells do share a blood relation with Slytherin,” the older man pointed out grimly. James’s jaw popped open but next to him, Sirius sat forward.

“So, do half the wizards in Britain,” he argued. “Besides, how do we know Heir is literal. Perhaps it only means successor. Latin translations are always a bit mad.”

And that, Pandora thought, was actually an excellent point. James glanced over to his friend, seeming impressed and surprised.

“’People here’ll believe anything,’ said Ron in disgust. … ‘Can’t hurt to have a poke around.’”

“It literally can,” Lily groaned. “It can,” she said as Harry began searching the area where Mrs. Norris had gotten Petrified. The redhead sighed into her hands, dragging them across her face and rubbing her temples.

“’Scorch marks!’ … ‘Have you ever seen spiders act like that?’”

Dorcas shivered at the description, pulling a face that had Marlene smiling for the first time in a while.

“Bloody hate spiders,” Dorcas muttered, turning her face into her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“No,’ said Harry. … ‘That’s the girl’s toilet.’”

Emmeline’s head shot up. “Myrtle’s toilet?” she asked rhetorically. Before anyone else could interject, Moody continued.

“’Oh, Ron, there won’t be anyone in there,’ … ‘I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead – ‘”

Emmeline sighed, like Myrtle was being exactly as helpful as she had expected her to be.

“’Myrtle, no one wants to upset you,’ … ‘What were you – ?’ ‘Just having a look around,’ Ron shrugged.”

Fabian snorted a laugh at the interaction with Percy.

“’Clues, you know – ‘ … ‘If you’re talking about Malfoy – ‘”

Pandora sighed. She supposed there was no hope that that particular feud would die out. Especially since Ron’s father was facing an inquiry at work now. She didn’t have to glance at the twins to know their mood had soured with the mention of their brother-in-law’s troubles. Malfoy was a dangerous enemy to have, especially when dealing with the Ministry.

“’Of course, I am!’ … ‘Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?’”

Sirius shook his head. “Unfortunately, whatever Petrified Mrs. Norris would be far stronger than a second year.”

Next to her, Regulus frowned at the use of the word ‘unfortunately.’ It seemed Lily had a similar thought, eyebrow cocked as she turned to look at the other boy.

“You want the monster to be more dangerous than a second year?” she asked.

Sirius glanced at her, looking like he had just been caught feeding the Giant Squid, his ears tinging pink.

“Um, I’m going to pass on this one,” he said after a moment’s thought. There were a few light chuckles as Lily rolled her bright green eyes.

“’Look at his family,’ said Harry, closing his books, too. … ‘But how do we prove it?’ said Harry darkly.”

Dorcas put her head in her hands. “Your son is aware he’s at a school with, I don’t know, adults, right?” she asked rhetorically.

Lily shook her head and James only shrugged helplessly.

“’There might be a way,’ … ‘We’d be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect – ‘”

“Par for the course then,” Remus joked weakly. Pandora was thankful the atmosphere seemed to be lifting in the room as people settled back into the story.

“’If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won’t you?’ … ‘All we’d need would be some Polyjuice Potion.”

Lily’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, I swear they are doing this on purpose,” she said breathlessly. Next to her, James put a hand over his mouth, looking like he wasn’t sure if laughing was an appropriate response.

“’What’s that?’ … ‘They’d have to be really thick … ‘”

“Oh, lord, help me,” Lily muttered. She relaxed back into James and he wrapped his arm around her rounded shoulders, pulling her in and placing a soft kiss on the crown of her head. Lily sighed and turned to rest her head on her husband’s shoulder. Pandora’s stomach twisted at the thought of the other books in Sybil’s bag. The stories only grew in length, and she could not imagine them getting any less stressful.

“I can read next,” Dorcas offered, getting the book from Moody before returning to her seat. Pandora let out a small sigh. These books only seemed to grow worse, and they were hardly halfway through the second one, only. The Hog’s Head had seemed to grow weary again of the story, despite the break they had just taken.

Dorcas cleared her throat, opening the book. “Chapter Ten.” She read. “The Rogue Bludger.”

Chapter Text

Marlene frowned. “That doesn’t sound good,” she said, shooting a look toward James who was chewing on his lower lip, deep brown eyes bright. They both knew how devastating Quidditch injuries could be. Marlene remembered the week James had spent in the hospital wing his sixth year because the idiot had decided body-blocking their Seeker from an illegal bludger was suddenly his responsibility.

James had only grinned upon waking up, blood still soaking his teeth, asking if they had won. They had. Marlene had been beyond furious.

“Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class.”

“Thank Merlin,” Lily muttered with a roll of her eyes. However, next to her, Remus frowned, dusty hair falling into his face.

“Doesn’t do much for their practical knowledge of Defense, however,” he sighed resignedly. Lily shook her head, running her fingers through her curls. Marlene assumed she might have been more sympathetic if the Defense professor was … literally anyone else.

“I don’t care,” Lily said firmly. “That man is a menace. Is it bad that I hope he doesn’t even last the year?”

Remus’s lips twitched upwards in clear agreement, brown eyes twinkling with laughter.

“Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. … Harry was hailed to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. “

Out of the corner of her eye, Marlene saw Remus go completely still, eyes trained on the book in Dorcas’s hands. Discretely, Sirius pushed into his side, as if he were trying to comfort the other boy. Marlene frowned.

The werewolves had been a part of the war Marlene hadn’t seen. Apparently, there was Order intelligence that Voldemort was attempting to recruit the Northern and Scandinavian packs, but there wasn’t much that they could do about it, as far as she understood. Voldemort had many inroads with several dark creatures, there were even rumors that the man had communed with Dementors, and it seemed only a matter of time before she would start seeing them on the other end of her wand.

She shivered at the thought.

“If he hadn’t had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood, he would have refused to do it. ‘Nice loud howl, Harry – exactly – … slammed him to the floor - … - he let out a pitiful moan – and he turned back into a man - … - and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks.’”

Sirius rolled his eyes rather dramatically at Lockhart’s retelling, muttering “what bullshit,” under his breath, giving no doubt as to what he thought of Lockhart’s integrity when it came to storytelling.

“The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet. … ‘Ah, Gadding with Gouls!’ said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. ... He scrawled and enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione.”

Emmeline snorted. “Well that was easy,” she said, shaking her head.

“’So Harry,’ … ‘That’s because he’s a brainless git,’ said Ron.”

There were some noises of agreement around the room, most being thoroughly done with Lockhart’s display of absolute incompetence. Surely the Defense position couldn’t be that hard to fill? Marlene knew that their fourth year had been taught entirely by temporary placements, as the school hadn’t been able to find anyone to fill the position. But the lack of interest in the position could also have been attributed to the war, with witches and wizards going missing it seemed nearly every week, even more fleeing to other countries. But this was years after the war, in theory, the fighting a decade behind them. And Marlene couldn’t help but think that nearly anyone would have been better than Lockhart.

“’But who care, we’ve got what we needed – ‘ … ‘I was wondering if I could keep it,’ she said breathlessly.”

Fabian sighed, shaking his head. Marlene wished she could have said she would have been better than Hermione, but she remembers herself at twelve. Absolutely obsessed with Lekki Lu, a Beater for the Hollyhead Harpies. It didn’t quite matter how many stray bludgers flew into the stands on her watch, Marlene tracked down every article ever written about the other woman, pinning far too many pictures of the Quidditch player on the walls on her room. It was a wonder it took her so long to figure out she was attracted to women.

“’Oh, come on,’ … Harry seriously hoped the artist had imagined the look of intense pain on their faces.”

“He has a rude awakening ahead of him,” Emmeline muttered to herself, her expression sour. Marlene sympathized. They had been using Polyjuice Potion more often in recent Order missions, as they got more intelligence of Voldemort’s allies coming through Ministry customs. Emmeline herself had been supposed to go on a particularly long mission where she would have had to drink a significant amount of Polyjuice Potion over several hours. The mission hadn’t gone well. She’d joked in St. Mungo’s after that it might have been her face as she choked the potion down that did her in, but everyone knew the truth. Somehow the intelligence on the mission had gotten out.

Marlene shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

“’This is the most complicated potion I’ve ever seen,’ said Hermione as they scanned the recipe.”

Gideon sighed. “I’d say I’d hope that the complexity of the potion would scare her off brewing it, but I’ve spent too much time around Gryffindor’s to be that hopeful.”

Fabian grinned next to him, taking the remark as a compliment. Dorcas shook her head.

“She’s mad if she tries to brew this,” Dorcas sighed, looking resigned to Hermione’s suspension of sanity, nonetheless. Dorcas’s thin fingers drummed on the bar next to Marlene anxiously.

“You think she won’t be able to?” Marlene asked, offended on Hermione’s behalf. Hermione had proven herself an excellent witch already, and quite proficient at several subjects, including potions. As long as the girl was careful, and Marlene had no doubt she would be, Marlene couldn’t help but think Hermione would be able to brew the potion without issue. Dorcas only shook her head.

“I’m more afraid she will,” her girlfriend replied, mysteriously, lips set in a frown.

“’Lacewing flies, leeches, flux weed, and knotgrass,’ … ‘I’m drinking nothing with Crabbe’s toenails in it – ‘”

There were a few laughs at Ron’s disgust and Emmeline crinkled her nose, like she was remembering her own recent experience. Honestly, the thought to drinking the essence of another was more than a little revolting.

“Hermione continues as though she hadn’t heard him. … ‘Slytherin has better brooms than us,’ … ‘But we’ve got better people on our brooms.’”

James nodded approvingly. He’d always been a natural at pep talks. He had a knack for rallying people that had translated even here, to the Order. Marlene had looked up to James as a captain, and as Head Boy, it had been inevitable that the admiration would translate over to the Order as well, not that she could ever let James know that.

“That’s really all you need,” Marlene grinned in support, flashing a nostalgic smile to her former captain.

“’We’ve trained harder than they have, we’ve been flying in all weathers – ‘ … ‘So no pressure Harry,’ said Fred, winking at him.”

James let out a throaty laugh. Marlene fought a smile, remembering their own pregame talks, James usually animated demeanor even more erratic, a wild grin on his face and a gleam in his eyes. There was this feeling that together, they could do anything, beat anyone.

Sometimes she looked back on that mindset and longed for it. Other times she just thought of how incredibly naive she’d been.

“As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; … ‘All right there, Scarhead?’ yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom.”

Marlene gritted her teeth, hoping that Lucius’s son was too distracted showing off to be looking for snitch. Come on, Harry, she thought.

“Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.”

Lily let out a noise of discomfort, her fingers white as it gripped the table.

“’Close one, Harry!’ said George, … Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction midair and shot straight for Harry again.”

James sat forward suddenly in his seat.

“What in Godric’s name … “ James trailed off, eyes narrowing behind his rounded glassed.

Marlene squinted suspiciously at the book. “Rogue Bludger,” she muttered, thinking of the chapter title and she saw James pale a little at the implication. His gaze flickered to hers.

“It sounds jinxed,” he said, a little breathless. Lily, who had mostly been frowning, likely not truly understanding the implication of what they had just read, went a little pale, herself, freckles stark against her white face.

“Jinxed!” she repeated, furious. “Who is the bloody hell would jinx it?”

Marlene felt a pit settle in her gut. “Well they are playing Slytherin,” she said a little petulantly. Next to her, she felt Dorcas go stiff and she wished immediately she could take the words back. James’s eyes darkened as well.

“Madam Hooch locks all the equipment up and checks it for charms herself,” Regulus snapped suddenly at the front of the room and when Marlene turned to him, he was glaring at her, eyes frosted. “No one on the Slytherin team would have had a chance to jinx it until getting on the field and then someone would have seen them then.”

Marlene opened her mouth, ready to argue, but next to her Dorcas’s voice was quiet, almost unsure.

“He’s right,” she said, her teeth running over her bottom lip when Marlene glanced over. Dorcas never looked unsure. But she did just then, waiting to see if Marlene would agree.

Marlene took a deep breath, tearing her gaze away from Regulus and shrugging. She sat back in her chair and folded her arms.

“I suppose,” she allowed, a little guiltily. It was unlikely anyone on the Slytherin team would have been able to jinx the bludgers, either way, countercharms routinely placed on all sports equipment.

“Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy.”

“Thank Rowena,” Gideon muttered under his breath, staring intently at the book.

“Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot toward Harry’s head.”

Lily let out a screech, burying her head in her hands. “I don’t understand,” she moaned.

“All the balls should have anti-enchantment runes carved into them,” James said angrily. It simply made no sense. Marlene knew there were some practice balls that allowed limited enchantments for training purposes, but none of them would allow jinxes like the one being described.

Marlene’s heart hammered in her chest. He tried to tell herself that Harry would likely be fine. Surely, if these books were about him, that meant there was some assurance of his safety throughout them, right?

“Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. … It had started to rain.”

“Great,” Dorcas muttered under her breath. What else could go wrong?

“Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, … ‘Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero – ‘”

Marlene knew that James was truly worried at that moment, because he didn’t even flinch at the score line.

“The Slytherins’ superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, … ‘We need a time out,’ said George.”

“Thank Merlin,” Fabian sighed. Hopefully they could alert Madam Hooch about the ball. Quidditch games were always difficult to call, she might not have noticed the Bludger’s strange movement if it was only going after the Gryffindor Seeker.

“’Wood had obviously got the message. … ‘We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver,’ said George angrily.”

Marlene saw James go tense at the words. It was just an exaggeration, Marlene told herself, worry wrapping itself around her chest. Bludgers very rarely caused serious injury and were even less likely to result in permanent injury, but still, the words being read weren’t going over well in the room just then.

“’Someone’s fixed it – it won’t leave Harry alone.’ … ‘Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one.’”

“Hell no,” Lily said firmly, glaring at the book. Truthfully, from a Quidditch perspective, that was probably the best strategy. Harry had room as Seeker to work to lose the Bludger, and one less Bludger in the game would make it easier to control, as long as Fred and George were able to contain the remaining Bludger. Still, Marlene didn’t like it one bit.

Clearly no one else did either.

“’Don’t be thick,’ said Fred. … ‘Ready to resume play?’ … Higher and Higher Harry climbed; … WHAM.”

James cursed and Lily shook the head she still cradled in her hands. Marlene was on the edge of her seat, listening to the explanation of the game.

“He just stayed still a bit too long,” she muttered, trying to keep the game straight in her mind. “He’s done a good job of avoiding the Bludger up until now. And he’s seen the snitch. It’ll be over soon.”

James shot her a grateful look.

“He has stayed still a second too long. … His arm was hanging at a strange angle.”

“I can’t handle this,” Lily said, looking a little green.

“The game’s over, Pomfrey can fix him up,” Marlene offered, feeling sick about the entire thing herself. Harry should have never gotten hurt.

Anger flashed in Lily’s eyes, but Marlene didn’t think it was directed at her. The redhead just clenched her jaw tight and nodded curtly.

“Riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. … ‘Oh no, not you,’ he moaned.”

Fabian was shaking his head. “Just take him to the Hospital wing,” he seemed to plead with the book. Marlene frowned, not yet understanding who Harry had recognized in the crowd.

“’Doesn’t know what he’s saying,’ said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them.”

Marlene groaned. Of course.

“'Not to worry, Harry,’ … His arm didn’t hurt anymore – nor did it feel remotely like an arm.”

“If that idiot has transfigured his arm,” Lily didn’t finish the threat, but her voice was cold enough that Marlene suppressed a shiver.

“’Ah,’ said Lockhart. … He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.”

Lily’s jaw dropped open, and James still looked like he was trying to understand what Harry was describing.

“He removed his bones,” Remus said, looking a little sick himself, pale face revealing some faded pink scars.

“Bloody idiot,” Dorcas snarled, shaking her head. “How is he even allowed around children?”

“Lockhart hadn’t mended Harry’s bones. … ‘Anyone can make mistakes,’ said Hermione. ‘And it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it, Harry?’”

Gideon shook his head. “She reminds me of Molly at that age,” he said tiredly. Marlene grimaced at Hermione’s optimism. She clearly didn’t want to think poorly of her teacher, but she was only setting herself up for disappointment.

“’No,’ said Harry, getting to bed. … ‘I want to know how he fixed that Bludger,’ said Hermione darkly.”

“I’d like to know that too,” Moody muttered. The old Auror hadn’t done much but glare suspiciously at the book this chapter, so Marlene gave a start when he spoke.

“We don’t technically know that it was him,” Dorcas pointed out. It was a fair point. It was unlikely that a second year figured out how to get around the runic protections on the balls. But Marlene couldn’t help but feel suspicious of the Malfoy boy as well. Maybe she was relating him too much to his father, but this seemed exactly like something Lucius would do, never wanting to get his hands dirty himself.

“’We can ass that to the list of questions we’ll ask him when we’ve taken the Polyjuice Potion,’ said Harry.”

Marlene grimaced at the reminder of their plan. It wasn’t that she thought Hermione wouldn’t be able to brew Polyjuice but brewing any potion outside the controlled environment of a potions room was a recipe for disaster.

“’I hope it tastes better than this stuff … ‘… ‘This boy needs rest, he’s got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!’”

Sirius nudged James then, a fond expression over his face. “She hasn’t changed a bit,” he said, sharing a look with Remus as well. Marlene knew that the boys often ended up in the Hospital wing and she could tell Sirius was trying to lighten the mood. James gave a small smile back and even Lily laughed a little.

“And Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm. … Then, with a thrill of horror, he realized someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.”

Lily sat ramrod straight, green eyes boring into the book.

“What?” she asked, eyes blown wide. Dorcas hurried to continue reading.

“’Get off!’ … ‘Dobby!’”

Most of the room seemed to relax, coming to the conclusion that Dobby likely didn’t mean Harry harm, but Marlene saw Sirius narrow his eyes at the book.

“The house-elf’s goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. … ‘Why didn’t Harry Potter go back home after he missed the train?’”

“How the bloody hell does he know about that?” Sirius exploded angrily at the book. Marlene frowned.

“It was Dobby,” Regulus spoke suddenly, grey eyes darting to his brother. “Elf magic could block the ward at King’s Cross. The Ministry wouldn’t be able to tell.”

Sirius expression was thunderous. “It could also enchant an un-enchantable Bludger,” he added darkly. Marlene’s eyes widened.

Lily turned on him. “What?” she asked, a little breathless.

Gideon was frowning. “Why would Dobby want to kill Harry though?” he asked. Sirius was shrugging, lifting a finger like he was going to start listing off reasons when his brother interrupted him.

“I thought we decided Dobby was trying to help,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

Remus frowned. “To be fair, his alleged attempts to help so far have left … much to be desired.” Marlene thought that was an awfully kind way of saying the elf only seemed capable of endangering Harry and getting the boy into more trouble.

“He needs to stop helping,” Marlene shook her head. She wasn’t too familiar with house-elves, but she really couldn’t understand Dobby’s motivations here. Why was he so invested in Harry?

“Maybe we should keep reading,” Pandora prompted after a beat of silence. “We can only hope Dobby’s intentions will be revealed in time.”

Marlene was really starting to hate this exercise. Why couldn’t Trelawney just tell them what they needed to do? Why did they need to go through all of this?

“Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby’s sponge away. … ‘Indeed yes, sir,’ said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping.”

“At least he’s honest,” Sirius muttered darkly. He was still clearly unhappy with the elf.

“’Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward.’”

“Wait, what?” Marlene interjected, sure she misheard.

Regulus was shaking his head sadly. “He was likely disobeying orders then, when he sealed the gateway.”

“Why would he – I mean, iron his hands?” Marlene asked again, almost hoping someone would correct her.

“He’s punishing himself,” Sirius said, a little disgusted. “Most families force their house-elves to punish themselves when they disobey orders.”

“That’s barbaric,” Marlene said, feeling ill at the thought. She felt Regulus’s appraising gaze on her, and she thought for the first time, she might have said something the younger Black agreed with.

“He showed Harry ten long, bandaged fingers - … ‘Dobby wants to save Harry Potter’s life!’”

Sirius was shaking his head. Marlene wasn’t sure what Dobby was trying to do, but she at least believed the house-elf genuinely thought he was helping. His idea of help though …

“’Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir!’”

“You don’t think Dobby knows about the Chamber, do you?” Remus immediately interjected. Marlene wanted to smack herself on the head, the elf’s warnings finally making sense.

“But we don’t know if the Chamber is even real,” Peter said nervously. “Right?” the boy asked, voice small. Sirius was shaking his head.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s real or not, only if Dobby thinks it is. And if he’s Malfoy’s elf … “ Sirius trailed off but Marlene understood immediately. A lot of the old Houses treated Sorting like a family tradition, and for a lot of the Houses that were still pureblood, that tradition was tethered to Slytherin. Of course, Sirius would immediately make that connection.

If Malfoy’s House elf knew about the Chamber of Secrets, it was likely that it was the Malfoys were behind the Chamber’s reappearance. Or at least the reappearance of the rumor, Marlene qualified. She didn’t know if she wanted to believe that the Chamber and its monster was real, though the possibility was becoming more of a certainty as the reading continued.

“You think Malfoy is behind all this,” Moody stated, seeming a bit impressed by the deduction. Marlene assumed that Moody was referring to Lucius, and not the twelve-year-old from the chapter, but she couldn’t be sure.

Sirius shrugged, purposefully not glancing at the old Auror. Marlene knew that the two had a rocky relationship. Moody never seemed willing to let go of Sirius’s past. Moody had always seemed a little more suspicious and careful around Sirius than anyone else.

“Abraxas predated rumors of the first Chamber opening and Lucius was far too late to have been responsible,” Edgar pointed out, glancing at Caradoc. The older man’s lips pressed together.

“It’s unlikely Malfoy was responsible for the Chamber’s first opening,” Caradoc agreed. “Though it doesn’t make him innocent this time around.”

Regulus was frowning. “The Malfoys don’t exactly have any claim to a relation to Slytherin, if we believe the ‘heir’ part of the legend.” Caradoc nodded in acknowledgement.

“That’s true. Their closest relation might actually be through the Black line,” he pointed out, a little humorously. Regulus raised his eyebrow as Caradoc, who offered him a wry smile, but Sirius glared thunderously at the older man, clearly not appreciating the implication about his heritage.

“’Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!’ … ‘We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir!’”

It’s only because Marlene was watching for it that she noticed Regulus’s jaw set tightly. It was strange, this piece of humanity that slipped through the younger’s boy’s cold exterior. She thought of how warmly Dorcas has greeted the boy yesterday versus all the rumors she’d heard about the Black heir. Nothing about Regulus seemed to make much sense.

“’Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir,’ … ‘And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, not that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more – ‘”

“I guess that answers that question,” Marlene frowned. Clearly Dobby knew more than he was letting on about the Chamber, and he obviously believed it was real. She knew Hogwarts was huge, but for some reason she couldn’t imagine a room staying hidden for so many years.

“Once more,” Gideon repeated, eyes flickering to Caradoc. “Clearly Dobby believes the Chamber has been opened before.”

Caradoc shook his head. “Which likely means that the Malfoys believe that it’s been opened before,” he said grimly. “Abraxas may not have attended Hogwarts in ’43, but he is close with many who did. Caius Avery and Corban Yaxley were both around in that time.” Caradoc’s eyes darted over to Dumbledore warily.

“Perhaps we should keep reading,” the old Headmaster suggested softly. There was something haunted in his blue eyes, a sadness there Marlene didn’t understand. It was also clear that Caradoc and Dumbledore knew more than they were saying.

“Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry’s water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight.”

Lily grimaced, glancing away from the book, clearly uncomfortable. Marlene shook her head. She didn’t like this one bit.

“A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyes, muttering, ‘Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby … ‘ … ‘But I’m not Muggle-born – how can I be in danger from the Chamber?’” Dorcas frowned while reading. “Technically, it just says ‘enemies of the heir.’ That doesn’t necessarily mean only Muggleborn.”

“Thanks, Dorcas,” Lily deadpanned at her and Marlene’s girlfriend grimaced.

“Sorry,” she muttered, and continued reading. “’Ah, sir, ask no more, as no more of poor Dobby,’ … ‘Dobby can’t, sir, Dobby can’t, Dobby mustn’t tell!’”

“He must have a direct order telling him to keep it a secret,” Regulus said. Marlene frowned.

“Not that I want Dobby to hurt himself, but hasn’t he been disobeying orders this whole time? Why can’t he just … tell Harry?” she grimaced as she said it, really not wanting to hear more about Dobby punishing himself. But Regulus was shaking his head.

“He’d probably only circumventing orders right now. Not doing things he was expressly forbidden to do. He was clearly told not to tell anyone who opened the Chamber, though,” the younger Black explained. Marlene nodded in understanding.

“’Go home, Harry Potter, go home!’ … Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap.”

A few people breathed a sigh of relief in the room as it was revealed it was only Dumbledore who had interrupted Dobby. Dobby’s message had clearly shaken quite a few and even if there was still reason to doubt that the Chamber was real, Dobby’s fear was at this point rather unquestionable.

“He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet.”

Remus took in a sharp breath, eyes widening. He shared a look of horror with Lily. Lily’s green eye were sharp with understanding, sympathy rippling across her face.

“Oh, no,” Remus whispered, an eerie quiet settling over the bar.

“What? What is it?” Peter frowned, clearly not yet making the connection. The plump boy sat forward in his seat. When Remus turned to him, his eyes were impossibly sad.

“Someone’s been petrified,” Remus explained grimly, face twisting. Marlene’s heart tightened in fear and her eyes flickered over to those who had relatives in the books: Alice and Frank were pale in fear; Gideon and Fabian rapt in Dorcas’s words; Edgar’s weary face flickering nervously.

“Together, they heaved it onto a bed. … ‘We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter.’”

Fabian exchanged a look of horror with Gideon, fearing the worst.

“Please not Ron,” Fabian muttered under his breath, watching the book intently.

“Harry’s stomach gave a horrible lurch. … It was Colin Creevy.”

Despite the revelation that the boy wasn’t Ron, no one in the room seemed relieved. Each exchanged looks of horror. Confirmation that something terrible truly was happening in the castle once again.

“Oh, Merlin,” Benjy Fenwick moaned, shaking his head.

“His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera. … ‘You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?’ … A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera.”

James sighed. “Of course, it couldn’t be that simple,” he grumbled.

“Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic. … ‘It means,’ said Dumbledore, ‘that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.’”

Caradoc raised an eyebrow and most of the room seemed to despair at Dumbledore’s surety. Marlene felt her stomach drop.

“Again,” Caradoc repeated, glancing at the Headmaster. Dumbledore seemed to understand what the other man was implying, his aged face growing more weary.

“I’ve suspected that there were more to the rumors for quite some time, Caradoc,” Dumbledore said slowly. “I’m afraid the monster responsible for the attacks is back.”

Caradoc raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “How much more do you know about it?” he asked, and the question was close enough to an accusation that Marlene’s jaw dropped. Dumbledore didn’t seem offended by the implication though, only sighing.

“I don’t know what Slytherin’s monster is,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I’m afraid none of the legends I was able to find on the matter were specific.”

McGonagall’s mouth was a flat line, her forehead creased. “But you believe it was actually opened then?” the witch asked intensely, dark green eyes fixed on the Headmaster. Dumbledore glanced over at her, inclining his head in something of an apology.

“Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. … ‘The question is not who,’ said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. ‘The question is, how …’”

Moody’s accusing eyes turned again on Dumbledore.

“You already know who,” he stated like a fact. Marlene glanced at Dumbledore in surprise, but her old Headmaster only nodded.

“The same person who opened it last time, I’m afraid,” he shook his head. Dumbledore looked so old then. Old and tired.

James narrowed his eyes, hazel eyes flashing dangerously. “And who might that be?” he asked, irritated. Marlene prickled in frustration as well, feeling like a child at the dinner table, made to sit quiet while the adults spoke.

Dumbledore shook his head. “It’s possible I’m wrong,’ he allowed and Marlene almost snorted. It was clear that Dumbledore knew far more than he was saying and while she understood their Headmaster might normally keep things close to his chest when it pertained to the Order, it was clear that this little reading exercise they were doing was anything but ordinary. And yet, if Dumbledore had decided to hold this back, Marlene thought that there was little any of them could do to convince him otherwise.

“The book will likely provide us with more information,” was all Dumbledore said. Caradoc looked irritated himself with this answer, but he didn’t object. Eventually, Dorcas continued to read.

“And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did.” Dorcas looked up as she finished reading. Minerva was frowning at Dumbledore.

“You could tell me, you know,” she admonished, sharper than Marlene had been expecting. Dumbledore only sighed.

“It is not a matter of trust, Minerva,” he said, shaking his head. “Surely, you know that.”

McGonagall still didn’t seem pleased, but she nodded all the same.

“Anyone want to read next?” Dorcas asked in the beat of silence. Marlene sighed.

“I can,” she offered, taking the book from her girlfriend. She turned the page, watching as the enchanted words appeared.

“Chapter Eleven,” she read. “The Dueling Club.” She hoped for an uneventful chapter.

Chapter Text

Frank shifted nervously as Marlene began to read. This book seemed even worse than the last one, darker and more sinister. Which, of course, if you had told him that after reading about an eleven-year-old facing a grotesque version of Voldemort alone, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight and his arm reboned but very stiff. … ‘We’ve decided this is the safest place to hide it.’”

Emmeline frowned. “Not a half bad idea. Most of the girls avoid that bathroom if they can help it,” she admitted, a little guiltily. Alice was nodding along as well, worried expression seemingly permanently etched on her face.

“Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted. … ‘He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.’”

Frank shook his head. It was clear the trio was focusing on the wrong Malfoy. It was possible Lucius’s son knew about his father’s plans, but the idea that a twelve-year-old could be responsible for petrifying another child was simply unthinkable to Frank.

”’There’s something else,’ … ‘’Lucius Malfoy must’ve opened the Chamber of Secrets when he was at school here and now he’s told dear old Draco how to so it.’”

Gideon was shaking his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Frank had overlapped in school with Malfoy for only a few years, but he was sure that the older man didn’t open it the first time. That had to have been years back.

“’It’s obvious. … ‘I want to know how come nobody’s notices it sneaking around the school.’”

Remus frowned. “Now, that is strange. There are several animals that could be responsible for petrification. A Gorgon, most famously.”

Caradoc shook his head. “Far too many species to count. A Cardiff Giant could do it. A Manticore,” he started.

James nodded. “A Bakhtak,” he suggested, sharp hazel eyes darting to Caradoc. The older man grimaced.

“Some species of Hags,” Marlene added.

Edgar shook his head. “Something as simple as Stoneman’s disease would do it too.”

Dorcas frowned. “How would it be spread? Cursed object?”

Caradoc frowned. “A Svartalfar can petrify, but they aren’t common in these parts.” He sighed. “It could also have been a Silver Dragons. Certain species of Ghasts. Egyptian Jinn can induce sleep paralysis of course. I’m afraid there are too many possibilities. We were never able to determine what exactly Slytherin’s monster was the last time.”

“You mean assuming there was a last time,” Frank pointed out.

Caradoc shrugged. “In theory, the Chamber would be its den, the creature would likely return there.”

Lily frowned. “It would have to move about the castle, though,” she pointed out.

McGonagall shook her head. “Now you see why everyone thought it was far more likely a person was behind it.”

Most of the room seemed to concede her point. They were missing information, it was clear. And, like Dumbledore had said, it seemed that the best way to get answers, would be to keep reading. Marlene took the pause as invitation to continue.

“’Maybe it can make itself invisible,’ said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. … ‘If he doesn’t stop trying to save your life, he’s going to kill you.’”

Regulus sighed quietly next to Pandora. As strange as it seemed to Frank, it was clear that Regulus felt sympathy towards Dobby. Truthfully, it was hard not to. The elf was clearly worried, but every attempt at help seemed only to endanger Harry.

“The news that Colin Creevy had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was thick with rumor and suspicion.”

Frank sighed. It was true. The Hogwarts rumor mill was as fast as it was inaccurate.

“Ginny Weasley, who say next to Colin Creevy in charms, was distraught, … ‘Anyway, everyone knows I’m almost a squib.’”

Next to Frank, Alice shook her head.

Frank’s heart ached reading about their son’s doubts. Frank was raised without a father in his house, and he had never wanted that for his son. And now, here he was, being raised without a father or mother. Frank’s own mother was never know for being the most emotionally open. He had vowed to do better, with his own children, but it seemed he would never get the chance. He wanted to tell his son that it didn’t matter how late one’s own powers came in, Frank’s own didn’t show until he was nearly eight, far beyond anyone else his own age.

“In the second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. … Harry privately felt he’d rather face Slytherin’s legendary monster than let Snape catch him robbing his office.”

The man in question scowled at the book, as if daring James’s eventual son to try and steal from him.

“’What we need,’ said Hermione briskly as Thursday afternoon’s doubled Potions lesson loomed nearer, ‘is a diversion.’ … Draco Malfoy, who was Snape’s favorite student, kept flicking pufferfish eyes at Ron and Harry, who knew that if they retaliated, they would get detention faster than you could say ‘Unfair.’”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Of course, you would like him,’ he grumbled under his breath, but it was loud enough that Snape could hear it in the front of the class. Frank watched as Snape went tense.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Black?”

But Marlene continued reading, seeming unruffled by the interjection.

“Harry’s Swelling Solution was far too runny, but he had his mind on more important things. … Through the confusion, Harry saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape’s office.”

Lily looked horrified. “I’m sorry, they were trying not to get into trouble?” James looked like he was struggling to keep a straight face.

“You’re right, darling,” James said, remarkable evenly. “It’s absolutely terrible.”

Lily glared at her husband, but the expression was mostly fond. “Oh, don’t you start.”

“’Silence!’ … ‘Snape can’t prove it was you,’ … ‘What can he do?’ ‘Knowing Snape, something foul.’”

Snape looked irritated at the book.

“A week later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small know of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. … ‘What do you reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?’”

Frank frowned. “It’s not a bad idea actually.” Alice glanced over at him in surprise.

“I think Slytherin’s monster would be a little more … monstrous,” Alice frowned. Frank shook his head.

“No, I mean clearly the children’s Defense Against the Dark Arts education has been … subpar. A Dueling Club could help counteract that.”

Sirius gave an appreciative grin. “I wouldn’t have minded one when we were in school to be honest.” He waggled his eyebrows at James who grinned back.

Emmeline shook her head.

“That would have been absolutely disastrous, and you know it,” she said with a laugh.

“Besides,” Dorcas added, her tone far darker. “Weren’t the hallways basically a dueling club anyways?” she asked bitterly.

“’Could be useful,’ he said to Harry and Hermione as they went into dinner. … ‘Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young – maybe it’ll be him.’”

Lily sat forward. “Was he really?” she asked, her eyes bright. Frank knew that Lily had been a fan of the Charms professor, winning some award in her NEWTS year.

Emmeline nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. He was fantastic, apparently. You can find old articles about it in the Library.”

Benjy nodded eagerly. “Doesn’t duel much anymore,” he said. “But he was a sensation in his day.”

“’As long as it’s not – ‘ Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.”

Benjy groaned. “There’s no way!” he seemed dismayed more about Lockhart’s mention while others threw suspicious glances toward the front of the room.

“Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, ‘Gather round, gather round!’ … ‘Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry – you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!’”

Snape snorted. “As if,” he said derisively.

“Lot of dueling practice recently, Snape?” James asked, voice cutting. Snape turned his glare on the other boy unflinchingly.

“’Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?’ … ‘Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.’ ‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.”

Snape scoffed at the accusation. Quickly, at least four glares turned to him. James was the first to speak.

“Well can you blame him for thinking that?” he bit out. Frank knew that the younger man was restraining himself but anger still washed his tone.

Snape glared back, undaunted. “Yes. I can.”

James snorted, but it was a harsh sound. “Please, what reason does he have to trust you?” he ground his teeth together.

“Oh, besides saving his life last year?” Snape’s tone was close to gloating and James opened his mouth, likely to question the characterization of those exact actions, but again, as if there had bene no interruption at all, Marlene continued to read.

Frank was somewhat impressed by her resilience.

“’One – two – three – ‘ … He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.”

Fabian couldn’t help but snort in amusement.

“Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. … ‘Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter.’”

James glared at Snape. He hadn’t seemed to calm down at all from his earlier argument, and Frank was worried that James might actually draw blood from how hard the other man seemed to be biting his tongue.

“’And you, Miss Granger – ‘ … Harry pointed his want straight at Malfoy and shouted, ‘Rictusempra!’”

James raised an eyebrow, a bit impressed. Harry seemed skilled enough at magic, if a little awkward of clumsy while using it. Not unusual for a young wizard, especially a twelve-year-old with more power than he knew what to do with.

Lily bit her nails nervously, greens eyes intently watching the book.

“A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubles up, wheezing. … ‘Finite Incantatem!’ he shouted.”

Frank shook his head. Malfoy and Harry went together about as well as bughorn juice and baybeetle dust.

“Harry’s feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up. … She was a lot bigger than he was.”

Benjy frowned. “I retract my statement. Maybe a dueling club isn’t the best idea.”

Frank was beginning to agree.

“’Dear, dear,’ said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. … ‘Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.’”

Frank’s eyes snapped to the front of the room and he glared at the man in question. He had never so much as spoken to Severus Snape in their school days, the other boy being several years below him and in another house.

“What is your problem?” Frank asked, voice hard. The black eyes of Snape refused to meet his and for some reason, that made Frank even angrier.

“You’re supposed to be a fucking teacher,” he snapped, and the room seemed to grow cold at his words. Perhaps it was silly, expecting anything from a Death Eater. But something suspiciously close to betrayal tore at his chest and his eyes flickered over to McGonagall and then up to Dumbledore, whose clear blue eyes were sad, but not apologetic.

After a beat of silence, Marlene began reading again and Frank tried to force the anger from his fingertips. If he had to listen to more of this, he was liable to start throwing curses.

It didn’t matter how many times they all told themselves this wouldn’t happen. Sitting there, listening to his son’s distress was driving Frank mad. He felt a hand slip into his own and glanced over at the stony face of his wife. Every part of his own anger etched in her features.

He took a deep breath, squeezing her hand back, feeling a little less alone in the furious storm inside his head. He forced himself to focus on Marlene’s voice.

“Neville’s round, pink face went pinker. … ‘Just do what I did, Harry?’ ‘What, drop my wand?’”

Sirius snorted out a laugh and the tension in the room seemed to snap.

“But Lockhart wasn’t listening. … ‘Serpensortia!’”

Regulus’s eyebrows shot up. Frank didn’t recognize that spell and he glanced around the room, seeing other confused faces.

“Never heard of that spell,” Sirius said suspiciously.

“It could be a new one,” Remus suggested, voice tight. New spells were always making their way around Hogwarts, trends going in an out, most to be forgotten the moment a new spell came around.

“The end of his wand exploded. … ‘Leave him alone!’ And miraculously – inexplicable – the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry.”

Frank’s jaw dropped over and a few people around the room looked momentarily stunned.

“He’s speaking to the snake,” Lily said in a rush, wide eyes on James. James glanced back worriedly.

“We knew he could do that,” Marlene frowned, pointing out the obvious. Frank’s stomach dropped.

“But now everyone else knows,” he said grimly.

“Harry felt the fear drain out of him. … ‘What do you think you’re playing at?’ he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.”

Sirius frowned. “Well that was a bit ungrateful.

Regulus sighed. “He probably just doesn’t know what happened,” he said, shaking his head. “To others, Parseltongue just sounds like hissing.”

“Still,” Sirius said, a bit petulantly.

“Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape too was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn’t like it.”

Regulus glanced over at Snape and frowned, seeming more puzzled than anything else. Frank could hardly stand to look at the other man, forcing his attention back to the reading.

“He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. … ‘You’re a Parselmouth. Why didn’t you tell us?’”

Marlene shook her head. “He obviously didn’t know.”

“This isn’t good, though,” Dorcas grimaced next to her and Marlene shot her a surprised look.

“What? Why not?” the blond asked. “So, he’s a Parselmouth? Who cares?”

Dorcas shot her girlfriend an exasperated look. “Marls, a message claiming to be from Slytherin’s heir appeared on the walls written in blood. And now Harry just happens to speak snake, a trait that Salazar was famous for?”

James frowned. “Harry is not related to Slytherin.”

“They share a common ancestor though,” Regulus pointed out thoughtfully and James shot him a look that was almost betrayal.

Lily frowned. “What? Really?” she asked James.

James nodded slowly, almost unwilling to admit it. “Allegedly,” he emphasized. “They both descend from the Peverells.” But James shook his head. “But plenty of old Pureblood families descend from the Peverells.”

“Who the hell are the Peverells?” Lily asked, exasperated. Regulus turned to her with patience that shocked Frank.

“They are an old wizarding family.” The boy explained. “Some of the most powerful wizards in history.”

“’I’m a what?’ … ‘no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something – it was creepy, you know – ‘”

“What?” Sirius looked furious. “And then the snake just magically stopped attacking the kid after Harry talked to it? That makes no sense!” he ranted.

Remus put a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, giving it a subtle squeeze. Sirius sighed, thumping back into his chair and crossing his arms.

“Harry gaped at him. … Ah, said a nasty little voice in his brain, but the Sorting Hart wanted to put you in Slytherin don’t you remember?”

James was shaking his head. “That’s – that doesn’t matter. He’s not related to Slytherin,” he repeated stubbornly.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at him. “Technically, Harry doesn’t know that,” he pointed out. Dorcas rolled her eyes.

“And even if he was, it wouldn’t matter,” she added shaking her head. At this, Sirius nodded.

He gave James a pointed look. “He chose Gryffindor,” he said simply. James only sighed as Marlene continued to read.

“Harry turned over. … ‘Go and find Justin if it’s so important to you.’”

Lily grimaced. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” the redhead fretted. Frank couldn’t help but agree.

“So Harry got up and left through the portrait hole, wondering where Justin might be.”

Alice grimaced. “He’s going alone?” she asked. Frank felt a chill down his spine as he remembered the monster hunting in the corridors. Surely, Harry wouldn’t get hurt. These books seemed to be told from his perspective, and there were still five more.

“The castle was darker than it usually was in daytime because of the thick, swirling gray snow at every window. … ‘Everyone knows that’s the mark of a dark wizard.’”

“It’ll be fine,” Dorcas tried to comfort. “You know how Hogwarts rumor mill is. Everyone will be on a new theory by next week.”

“’Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? … ‘Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that.’”

Frank shook his head. If they were theorizing that Harry was worse than Voldemort, then the rumor mill truly had gotten out of control.

“He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper. … ‘I’m looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley’”

Fabian shook his head. “Well, he’s certainly fearless,” the twin sounded somewhat impressed. Frank grimaced, not expecting this to go over well.

“The Hufflepuffs’ worst fears had clearly been confirmed. … ‘I’ve heard you hate those muggles you live with,’ said Ernie swiftly.”

The mood soured at the mention of the Dursleys. Lily’s fierce glare was bright; her jaw locked.

“’It’s not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them,’ said Harry. … A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.”

Pandora’s face twisted in sadness and disgust but next to her, Regulus narrowed his eyes. Frank tried to understand the significance of Hagrid’s appearance, or perhaps of the rooster, though that seemed far less likely.

“’All righ’, Harry?’ … ‘Second one killed this term,’ … Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.”

Lily took in a sharp gasp. Frank’s eyes widened. That was either a horrible coincidence or …

“Are we sure he doesn’t have anything to do with the attacks?” Emmeline asked, almost nervously. Her eyes darted to James and Lily, guiltily.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” James asked, getting angry. Emmeline raised her hands peaceably.

“I don’t mean purposefully,” she said. “Obviously.” She glanced around, as if looking for support. “It’s just … Well, all the people around him seem to be dropping – well, almost dead.”

Dorcas grimaced, though she didn’t contradict Emmeline’s words. Beside her, Fabian and Gideon exchanged a worried look.

“He doesn’t!” James said firmly.

“Even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t look good,” Benjy said reasonably. James’s glare turned on the other Ravenclaw.

“If?” James shot back, a hard edge to his voice. Again, Marlene’s voice cut off further argument. At this point, Frank was sure the other girl was doing it on purpose.

“And that wasn’t all. … It was Nearly Headless Nick, …” Marlene trailed off, eyes flickering up, wide with shock.

Frank didn’t understand how it was possible, wanting Marlene to continue reading, if only to explain that what Harry was describing was some sort of mistake.

“How – but he’s a ghost!” Peter sputtered.

Gideon shook his head. “It certainly rules out Stoneman’s disease,” he muttered.

Emmeline bit her lip, glancing again at James nervously. “Nick was Harry’s alibi for the first petrification,” she pointed out a little miserably.

James glared back at her. “He doesn’t need an alibi.”

“It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor.”

Caradoc was shaking his head. “This is unheard of,” the older man said, and Frank’s stomach dropped with those words. Caradoc was usually a source of knowledge in the Order. Along with Elphias and the other older members. To have him baffled by this magic … it didn’t bode well.

“His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin’s. … ‘ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATAAAACK!’”

Lily winced. “Well that won’t be the most delicate way to break the news,” she said dryly, and Frank was amazed at her ability to keep her humor.

“Crash – crash – crash - … ‘Caught in the act!’ Ernie yelled.”

“Oh, seriously?” Sirius complained.

“’That will do, MacMillan!’ said Professor McGonagall sharply. … ‘That’s enough, Peeves!’”

James shot McGonagall a grateful look. Their old Head of House had her lips pressed firmly together as she watched the book intently, not seeming to notice.

“Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, … They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.”

Frank relaxed as he realized McGonagall was taking Harry to Dumbledore’s office.

“’Lemon drop!’ she said. … This must be where Dumbledore lived.”

“Oh god,” Lily breathed, rubbing her forehead.

“I can read next, Marlene,” Benjy said. Marlene gave him a grateful look, and she passed the other boy the book.

“Chapter Twelve. The Polyjuice Potion.”

Chapter Text

Lily didn’t think she could take more stress.

“They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door.” Benjy began. “It opened silently and they entered. … Surely it couldn’t hurt if he took the hat down and tried it on again? Just to see …”

Lily moaned. Surely her son couldn’t get into any more trouble?

“Just to make sure it had put him in the right House - … ‘you would have done well in Slytherin – ‘”

Lily’s heart was pounding in her chest. For some reason, she was thinking back to a park she hadn’t visited in years, laying next to a boy she no longer knew, and he was telling her all about the House of silver and green. Severus had always wanted to be in Slytherin and before going to Hogwarts … Lily had wanted to be in the same House as her best friend. But the Hat had whispered something else in her ear. It had told her she would have done well in Slytherin, but that wasn’t where she would do best. And Lily wanted to be the best.

“Harry’s stomach plummeted. ‘You’re wrong,’ he said aloud to the still and silent hat.”

Dorcas sighed. “He shouldn’t … it shouldn’t matter. Slytherin or Gryffindor,” she said bitterly.

Lily sighed. She wanted to believe her friend, and she did, to an extent. The whole House rivalry had always been a bit silly to her. But Lily had learned a lot since those days in the park near her home. She had a very different experience in her House than Dorcas had been subjected to in her own and as much as Lily didn’t want it to matter, it simply did.

“It hung limply in her hand, grubby and faded. … Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore’s pet bird to die while he was alone in the office, when the bird burst into flames.”

Dumbledore chuckled good naturedly.

“Harry yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. … ‘It wasn’ Harry, Professor Dumbledore!’ said Hagrid urgently. ‘I was talkin’ ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir – ‘”

Lily breathed out a sigh. She didn’t think Dumbledore seriously suspected Harry, but Hagrid standing up for him meant a lot to her. Truly, she wanted to visit the half-giant, having missed him since her school days.

“I’m not actually sure that matters,” Regulus frowned. Lily looked affronted and Regulus rushed to explain.

“The monster isn’t Slytherin’s heir. Something else is petrifying students. Theoretically, whoever is doing so doesn’t have to be at the scene when it happens. Whatever creature it is, it’s probably acting under orders,” the boy explained. Lily could hear the sense in his words, but she bristled at the implication.

“Not many of the creatures that have petrification abilities would be intelligent enough to follow the orders of a wizard,” Caradoc mused thoughtfully. “Or be willing.”

Edgar shrugged. “But what else could be responsible? Cursed objects?”

Regulus was frowning, pinched expression on his face.

“Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere. … ‘I do not think that Harry attacked those people.’”

Lily breathed a sigh of relief.

“Finally,” Sirius muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“’Oh,’ … ‘I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you’d like to tell me,’ he said gently. ‘Anything at all.’”

James quirked an eyebrow and stared at their old headmaster. He knows, thought Lily. About the voice Harry has been hearing. It was the only explanation. And yet, why was he asking Harry this? At worst it was some test; at best …

Lily didn’t know what else this was.

“Harry didn’t know what to say. … ‘No,’ said Harry. ‘There isn’t anything, Professor …’”

Lily thought she saw disappointment flicker in Dumbledore’s eyes as Harry refused to tell him of all the strange things that had been happening that year.

Truthfully, though, Lily didn't know if she could blame her son for his reticence here. The small glimpses she had gotten about how her sister - her sister was treating her son ... she couldn't blame him for not seeking out Dumbledore's help. Her chest ached at the thought.

“The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. … ‘Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through …’”

Gideon grimaced at his nephews’ antics, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. Lily appreciated the apology but next to her, James shrugged thoughtfully.

“Honestly, it might help. Embracing it … well it highlights how absurd this all is,” he said tiredly.

“Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior. … ‘It’s ready.’”

Lily had a terrible feeling this was all going to go very wrong.

“Harry sat up, suddenly wide awake. … Ron had given him a book called Flying with the Cannons, a book of interesting Quidditch facts about his favorite Quidditch team.”

“Oh, mate,” James smiled at the Prewetts, trying to break some of the tension in the room. “Ron doing Godric’s work.”

“Hermione had brought him a luxury eagle-feather quill. … ‘I filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them.’”

Lily quirked an eyebrow. “Hermione is … impressively devious.”

Even Sirius was grinning next to her.

“’You know hoe greedy they are, they’re bound to eat them. … ‘Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?’”

Lily couldn’t help but agree. “Maybe that’s why you shouldn’t do it,” she muttered. James gave her a sheepish smile and she shook her head.

Ron was right. There were far too many factors for this to be a good plan. Crabbe and Goyle could not eat the pastries. The hair of Millicent Bullstrode’s robes could belong to anyone else. A bathroom in hardly a sterile brewing room, ideal for brewing complicated potions.

“But to Harry’s and Ron’s utter amazement, stage one of the operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. … ‘Bet it tastes disgusting.’”

Lily grimaced. It did. She’d had the displeasure of making several cauldrons of the potion for various Order missions.

There had been a higher demand for Polyjuice for Order missions, which Lily had taken charge on, being one of the few Potion Masters on the roster. More recently, gathering intelligence for this war required a delicate extraction, far more spy craft than she thought the Order was truly ready to take on. And yet, if they didn’t, who would?

“Add your, then,’ said Hermione. … ‘I- I don’t think I’m going to come after all. You go on without me.’”

Lily felt a sinking feeling in her gut, immediately knowing that something had gone wrong. She exchanged a worried glance with James, whose own face had fallen.

“’Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode’s ugly, no one’s going to know it’s you – ‘ … ‘Fine – I’m fine – go on – ‘”

Benjy shook his head. “Something’s gone wrong,” he said pointlessly. Perhaps the hair was someone else’s. Or there were mixed DNA strands in the hair?

“’Harry looked at his watch. … ‘Our common room? I’m a Ravenclaw?’”

Remus grimaced.

This wasn't exactly going perfectly.

“She walked away, looking suspiciously back at them. … ‘Wh – oh yeah,’ said Ron.”

Lily shook her head. Spy craft was clearly not in the pair’s expertise, though Lily was somewhat comforted by the fact.

“’Well, get off to your dormitories,’ said Percy sternly. … A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantlepiece ahead of them, and several Slytherin were silhouetted around it in high backed chairs.”

Lily leaned forward in interest as Slytherin common room was described. She could see a faint smile on the face of Regulus Black. The younger boy looked almost nostalgic, and sad, like the book was describing a memory for him, rather than a place he’d be returning in a few short weeks.

“’Wait here,’ said Malfoy to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. … Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.”

Gideon cursed.

Some of the politics of the Ministry still confused Lily but she understood enough to have a sinking feeling in her stomach about the consequences Arthur could face. Fabian looked more irritated than worried, however, and she tried to take solace in that.

“Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr. Weasley’s resignation.”

“He’s on the board of governors?” Gideon said furiously. Next to her, Sirius scoffed in disgust.

"Nepotism," he muttered. Caradoc seemed to grimace in agreement.

"Surely he took over Abraxas's seat," The older man muttered. Sirius shook his head.

"Merlin forbid we appoint someone on merit," Sirius groaned. Lily shook her head, a bit in frustration and a bit in amazement. She always forgot how much Sirius knew about this particular part of the Wizarding world. It felt so antithetical to the Sirius that she knew that she forgot, sometimes, that he was raised in it. She glanced over at the other Black in the room, but his sharp eyes and blank face didn't give much away, except that he was following the conversation.

“’Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute,’ … A decent headmaster would never’ve let slime like that Creevy in.’”

Lily took a deep deliberate breath. She saw Sirius’s knuckles go white in anger.

“Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin. … ‘I wish I knew who it is,’ said Malfoy petulantly. ‘I could help them.’”

Lily let out a breath. She hadn’t really thought that Lucius’s son had known who Slytherin’s heir was, but it still seemed a letdown that children’s plan led to nothing.

“Ron’s jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual. … ‘I hope it’s Granger.’”

Marlene growled. “Okay I know he’s twelve, but I really don’t like that kid.” The blond glared at the book in Benjy’s hands.

“Ron was clenching Crabbe’s gigantic fists. … ‘They’re probably still in Azkaban.”

Moody glancing over at Dumbledore with narrowed eyes did not escape Lily’s notice. The old man was giving nothing away, sitting in his seat with only a faintly curious expression on his ancient face.

“Who did get arrested last time?” Lily wondered aloud.

Dumbledore sighed. “An unfortunate and innocent party, I’m afraid,” was all he said. Before Lily could ask more, Benjy continued.

“’Azkaban?’ said Harry, puzzled.”

Sirius groaned. “He’d going to blow his cover.”

“’Azkaban – the wizard prison, Goyle,’ said Malfoy, … But luckily, we’ve got our own secret chamber under the drawing room floor – ‘”

“Do you?” Moody asked darkly, eyes sparking dangerously. Frank seemed to perk up as well, exchanging glances with a few other of the Aurors in the room.

“’Ho!’ said Ron. … ‘Go away!’ Hermione squeaked.”

Lily bit her lip nervously.

“Harry and Ron looked at each other. … Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.”

“Animal hair,” Lily whispered, a little horrified. It was fine, Pomfrey could fix it, but her heart dropped for Hermione. Marlene looked distraught at the description and Dorcas reached over, squeezing her hand.

“’It was a c-cat hair!’ … ‘What till everyone finds out you’ve got a tail!’”

“She better not tell anyone,” Emmeline said darkly, shaking her head. Lily sighed. She didn’t think that Myrtle really had the ability to spread a rumor, except perhaps to the other ghosts, but she also knew that secrets were a leaky dam in Hogwarts.

“I got it next, Benj,” Gideon said, leaning forward and taking the book from his old housemate. Benjy passed it quickly and Gideon immediately turned to the next page, frown on his face.

“Chapter Thirteen. The Very Secret Diary.”

Chapter Text

Severus Snape’s patience had run out the day prior, he was running on fumes at this point.

He had to get out of here. Regulus Black, the coward, may be content to sit still and play happy little family with his brother, but Severus had plans. Plans that did not include his barmy headmaster and ridiculous vigilantes who thought themselves heroes, reading books that were no more than a mad woman’s delusions. It was ridiculous that Dumbledore was indulging Trelawney, who clearly had a few screws loose. It was disappointing, but not surprising that the rest of the so-called Order believed this nonsense.

“Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks.” Gideon Prewett began, the boy’s face falling in concentration.

Severus was honestly somewhat impressed the girl had pulled off Polyjuice, with two out of the three portions working. Something was bound to go wrong, and her being turned into a cat was an honest consequence of the illegal potions brewing.

“There was a flurry of rumor about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, … ‘I was so sure it was Malfoy,’ said Ron, for about the hundredth time.”

Severus snorted. It was clear the Weasley boy was letting his prejudice get the better of him. That was the thing about Gryffindors when it came to prejudice. They were all hypocrites.

“’What’s that?’ … ‘’You don’t think someone else’s been attacked?’”

Most of the room went tense at Weasley’s suggestion. Severus nearly rolled his eyes. Obviously, someone else was going to get attacked. Whatever Lucius’s plan entailed, he clearly wanted to cause confusion and danger at Hogwarts.

“They stood still, their heads inclines toward Filch’s voice, which sounded quite hysterical. … ‘Now what’s up with her?’ … ‘What’s up Myrtle?’ … ‘I mean, it’d just go right through you, wouldn’t it?’”

Vance grimaced. The Ravenclaw shook her head slightly and sighed.

“Oh, he shouldn’t have said that,” McKinnon seemed to agree.

“He had said the wrong thing. … A small thin book lay there. … ‘It could be dangerous.’”

The older man in the corner Severus had heard referred to as Caradoc raised an eyebrow, seeming impressed.

“Honestly, good instinct,” he appraised. Severus thought that was ridiculous. It was a book. How could it hurt anyone?

“Something tells me they aren’t going to follow it,” the other Prewett said glumly. Caradoc grimaced in agreement.

“’Dangerous?’ Harry said, laughing. … ‘Dad’s told me – there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives.’”

Lily’s mouth dropped open. “Wait is that true?” she interrupted, glancing at Potter. Severus grit his teeth.

Potter laughed, seeming amused. “No, no. There was a jinx placed on some early editions that had a few readers speaking in rhyming couplets, but it wore off after a few days,” he reassured. Lily’s shoulders dropped, relieved.

Severus glanced away, trying to ignore the dark feeling in his chest. Usually, his Occlumency pushed everything down so far, he wasn’t used to the dull ache sitting there now. But Severus’s Occlumency shields felt frayed from listening to this God forsaken book. He was sick of this stupid exercise. He’d rather be locked in Azkaban at this point.

“’And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading!’ … ‘All right, I’ve got the point.’”

“Hyperbolized as some of that may have been, he still has a point,” Caradoc jumped in again. “Even not cursed, the knowledge alone in books can be dangerous.”

Severus snorted. That was ridiculous. Knowledge wasn’t dangerous. Knowledge was knowledge. It was what one did with it that could be dangerous.

Severus saw Lily’s piercing green eyes fly to him, and he knew that she knew what he had been thinking. They had been like that once, understanding each other without any word spoken. And always on the same page. But this time, her gaze hardening and Severus forced himself to look away. Unfortunately, when he glanced over, he found another set of eyes, the cold stare of Regulus Black was on him. Severus glared back.

“The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy. … He opened it eagerly. On the first page he could just make out the name ‘T.M. Riddle’ in smudged ink.”

A horrified gasp came from perhaps the last place Severus expected it: the usually stoic Professor McGonagall.

“That’s …” Caradoc’s typically calming voice was now hoarse and he looked, horrified, at Dumbledore. The old man, if the name affected him at all, was not giving anything away. His aged face sat pleasantly, waiting patiently for the story to continue.

Severus glanced at Regulus again, but the boy was just as confused as he was. Which was a first. At some points, during the story, it seemed the younger Black knew more than any of them in the room. Save Trelawney perhaps.

“Who is that?” Vance asked, voice curious, and perhaps a little suspicious, sharp Ravenclaw eyes flickering between her Professors. Caradoc’s lips were pressed in a hard line, nearly glaring at Dumbledore, who looked thoughtful. After a pregnant pause, the old Headmaster spoke.

“Tom Riddle became a very dangerous man,” Dumbledore said delicately, deliberately. It took a moment for his words to settle in.

Someone in the room gasped. Severus didn’t pay them any attention. There was a ringing in his ears.

“You aren’t implying … “Lily’s voice cut through. Severus felt frozen. He’d been wrong. No, knowledge could be dangerous. Knowledge could be very dangerous.

Riddle. The last name meant nothing to Severus. Which only meant one thing. He glanced over at Regulus, who had clearly come to the same conclusion. His grey vision was dark.

Knowledge could be deadly.

“He’s a halfblood?” Meadow’s voice was flat as she finally voiced it. A halfblood or a … but Dumbledore nodded.

“Yes,” he said gravely. The room seemed quiet for a moment and then Lily snorted loudly.

“Well that’s fucking rich isn’t it!” she fumed. “And you knew?” she asked, eyes skewering Dumbledore first and then turning on McGonagall.

It was the former who spoke though, voice calm. “It is a well forgotten fact, I fear,” he said. McKinnon narrowed her eyes.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“If you continue to read,” Sybil Trelawney’s voice but in irritably. The woman hadn’t spoken much over the reading, unless it was to urge them to continue. “It will be explained.”

“’Hang on,’ said Ron, … ‘T.M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago.’”

“Hogwarts gave Voldemort an award?” McKinnon asked in disbelief. The blond looked downright horrified.

McGonagall pursed her lips. “It was for helping catch Myrtle Warren’s killer,” the older woman explained, disgust evident in her tone. This seemed to cause even more of a stir in the crowd.

Black looked in disbelief. “What and we believed that?” he nearly shouted. “Obviously, Voldemort killed the girl!”

McGonagall only shook her head. “He wasn’t You-Know-Who back then,” was all the Professor said by way of explanation. Severus was still having trouble wrapping his head around the implications of what he had just learned. Trying to think of a way to scrub it from his mind.

Sirius snorted. “You don’t just become evil one day. That shit builds. He might not have been going by Voldemort, but he was the same person,” he argued. McGonagall did not look like she was inclined to argue with him on the point at all and Dumbledore inclined his head in acknowledgement.

At the pause, Prewett continued to read.

“’How on earth d’you know that?’ … There wasn’t the faintest trace of writing on any of them, not even Auntie Mabel’s birthday, or dentist, half-past three.”

Severus stared in shock at the book. As if the Dark Lord would ever write something so mundane!

Severus needed Prewett to close this book. He’d never been reticent to learn anything before in his life, but this? Severus did not want to know this.

At this point, Dumbledore had basically ensured his death. There was no way he could go back to the Dark Lord now, even with the strongest of Occlumency shields he could muster. The Dark Lord was the best Legilimens to ever be. How much did Severus truly trust his shields? The Dark Lord would kill him for knowing just a fraction of what he had just learned. There was simply no going back. Azkaban would be a mercy.

“’He never wrote in it,’ said Harry, disappointed.”

“Oh, please don’t take it with you!” Lily groaned into her hands.

“’I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?’ … Harry, however, pocketed it.”

“Oh, god.” Lily moaned. “Why, why, why?”

“Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and fur-free, at the beginning of February. … ‘Oooh, it might have hidden powers,’ said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.”

McKinnon sucked in a breath, like she expected the book to start snapping at the girl’s fingers. The room was stiff with tension now that the owner of the book had been revealed. Severus couldn’t help but notice the way the temperature in the room seemed to drop. The very name of the Dark Lord, the implication in a book about a book the Dark Lord had once written in, as a boy, a boy younger than Severus was even now, enough to shutter the spirits of the Order.

The Dark’s Lord’s name alone, choking the breath from the air.

Severus couldn’t help but be impressed.

“’If it has, it’s hiding them very well,’ said Ron. … ‘Maybe he murdered Myrtle;” The Prewett reading paused. “Okay, that was a wild guess,” he said before continuing. “’That would’ve done everyone a favor …’ … ‘Well the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn’t it?’”

“But Slytherin’s monster doesn’t kill,” McKinnon said with a frown. “Right? It petrifies.”

Dorcas shrugged. “Maybe Myrtle was killed by the heir, for finding the monster. Or saw the heir with the monster.” She speculated.

“Well it must have been Riddle,” Marlene said decisively. “The heir.”

“Voldemort is a Parselmouth,” Regulus Black said thoughtfully. Severus wanted to hex him. The boy was just giving out secrets to their enemies as if he had already given up, resigned to his fate! As far as Severus understood, Dumbledore and McGonagall hadn’t even checked the boy’s arm. He was free to leave after the readings. Report them back to the Dark Lord. Severus clenched his fists.

Maybe Regulus had already decided that he would be killed if he returned. With no faith in his Occlumency shields. Perhaps the boy knew how much would be revealed just that first night. But surely, if they brought the Dark Lord this information, they would be rewarded? Severus could see it now. Perhaps Trelawney was just a charlatan, but even if she was, Dumbledore clearly believed her nonsense. That could be just as powerful information. Bringing this to the Dark Lord would certainly ensure a place by his side, within his inner circle.

Severus just had to figure out how to get away.

“’That’s what Malfoy said.’ … ‘There’s nothing written in his diary.’”

Dorcas shook her head. “Perhaps it was written under a lock spell. Or in invisible ink. There must be something on the pages.”

“But Hermione was pulling her want out of her bag. … ‘Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn’t be bothered filling it in.’”

Severus couldn’t imagine the Dark Lord writing in a diary. He supposed the Weasley boy must be right, flippant as he seemed about it.

“Harry couldn’t explain, even to himself, why he didn’t just throw Riddle’s diary away.”

Lily shook her head. “I wish he would.” Potter reached over and squeezed her hand.

“The fact was that even though he knew the diary was blank, he kept absentmindedly picking it up and turning the pages, as though it were a story he wanted to finish.”

Lupin frowned at the description. “Could there be a compulsion on it?” he asked. Lily looked at him horrified.

Caradoc grimaced. “Harry would probably be more affected,” he said comfortingly. Potter seemed reassured by the older man’s words, even if Lily still bit her lip nervously.

“And while Harry was sure he had never heard the name T.M. Riddle before, it will seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Riddle was a friend he’d had when he was very small, and had half-forgotten.”

At this, both Lily and Potter looked properly horrified.

“What does that mean?” Black croaked out.

Caradoc shook his head.

“There could be other charms on it,” suggested Meadows hesitantly. “To make the book seem familiar. Innocuous.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow at that. “Something like that would typically be done only to hide very Dark magic.” Regulus’s face was sharp, Severus could almost see the boy’s mind turning. He wished he could peer in, figure out what in the world the younger Slytherin was thinking.

It was a good point. Dark magic left traces. Usually, one could feel the pull of Dark Magic, but it could be hidden, if done in the right way.

“But this was absurd. … Perhaps the heir of Slytherin had lost his nerve, thought Harry.”

Regulus frowned. “It is strange, the timing of it,” he mused darkly.

Black shot his brother a strange look. For someone who swore he never spoke to his brother, Regulus seemed awfully friendly with the other boy during the readings.

“What do you mean by that?” Black asked, the tone bordering on accusatory, but softer than Severus expected.

Regulus shrugged. “The attacks stop when Harry is in possession of the diary? We are thinking that it was Riddle who opened the Chamber in the forties, right? And now his diary just happens to show up? It’s strange.” To say the least, Severus added mentally.

Lily was looking at him, brow furrowed. “What are you saying? That the diary somehow opened the Chamber?” It sounded ridiculous and Regulus seemed to realize this, opening his mouth and then closing it again, as he floundered for an explanation. Severus did not see how it was possible for a diary to do that. Perhaps if it was hiding a compulsion, it was possible, but Severus was liable to agree with Caradoc. The Potter spawn would be far more affected if the diary had a compulsion. It must be something else.

“It could just be because of increased patrols by the teachers,” Vance pointed out reasonably. Regulus nodded, clearly conceding the point.

“The more attacks, the harder it would be to hide whatever monster it is,” Lily pointed out as well, seeming like she was trying to convince herself more so than anyone else.

“It would be a weird coincidence,” Lupin frowned, clearly willing to entertain the impossible.

“It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets,” the Prewett continued, echoing Vance’s thoughts. “with the school so alert and suspicious. … Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. He hated every mention of himself in the story. A bitter reminder of this possible future.

“’Happy Valentine’s Day!’ … With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. … ‘What’s going on here?’ came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.”

“Oh great,” Black muttered under his breath.

“Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag, … The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.’”

Severus scowled. Harry seemed to take after his father, always the center of attention at school.

Lily sighed, looking upset at the Valentine dwarf’s song. Across the room, Meadows also grimaced in sympathy.

“Harry would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the spot. … Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry realized that he’d gotten Riddle’s diary.”

At that, Black and Potter both sat forward, looking alarmed.

“’Give that back,’ said Harry quietly. … Ginny was staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified. … ‘Expelliarmus!’ and just as Snape had Disarmed Lockhart, so Malfoy found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air.”

Potter grinned broadly, clearly impressed. Lily’s eyes darted to him at the mention in the story. Severus wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Impressive,” whistled McKinnon.

“Ron, grinning broadly, caught it. … ‘I don’t think Potter liked your valentine much!’”

“Prat,” McKinnon muttered.

“Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. … The diary, however, was as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it.”

Lupin frowned. “Disillusioned paper?” he suggested.

“Maybe only Voldemort can read it,” Vance suggested glumly.

“He tried to point this out to Ron, but Ron was having trouble with his wand again; … The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished.”

Moody whistled. “Impressive.”

Very few in the room seemed to share his appreciation.

“Excited, Harry loaded up his quill a second time and wrote, ‘My name is Harry Potter.’”

Lily sat forward in his seat. “Oh, please tell me he didn’t,” she said.

“The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without a trace. … ‘Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?’” The Prewett’s voice was tinged in horror.

“It’s not … it’s not really him, is it?” McKinnon asked nervously. “There’s no way, right?”

Seeming unnoticeable to others, Lupin, Potter, Black and Pettigrew all exchanged a knowing look.

“A combination of a Quick-word spell and a Homoculous charm would allow for paper to respond to a person like that,” Lupin said, his words a little haunted for reasons Severus couldn’t fathom. Potter looked slightly pale.

“It’s not … sentient though?” Vance asked, mostly curious.

“I don’t see how it could be,” Caradoc jumped in, shaking his head. Severus didn’t take his eyes off the so-called Marauders, all sharing a strange look he couldn’t decipher. “Voldemort is still around, if Harry’s last year was anything to go by.”

“Is it like a painting then?” One of the Prewetts asked. “Enchantments would allow something like this.” He mused.

“Enchanted paintings work best when their subject has passed,” Vance pointed out. The conversation seemed to fizzle at that, and Prewett began reading again.

“These words, too, faded away, but not before Harry had started to scribble back. … ‘But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.’”

“What does that mean?” McKinnon asked.

Severus glared at her, more angry than anything that he was actually invested in the reading.

“If you shut up, McKinnon, we could find out,” he snapped. McKinnon glared at him back.

“What, interested now that your Lord is being talked about?” she sneered.

“’What do you mean?’ Harry scrawled, … ‘Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’”

“If anything was covered up, it was Voldemort’s involvement,” Black muttered darkly.

“’That’s where I am now,’ … ‘Do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?’”

Lupin shook his head. “He’ll tell Harry nothing but lies,” he said forlornly.

“Harry doesn’t know,” Black shook his head, sounding heartbroken. Severus nearly rolled his eyes.

“His heart was hammering. … ‘The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.’”

Meadow narrowed her eyes. “That was surprisingly close to the truth,” she muttered. Severus rolled his eyes.

“Harry nearly upset the ink bottle in his hurry to write back. … ‘I can show you if you like.’”

“He can what?” hissed Lily, horrified. Severus learned forward, fascinated by the spells being described.

“’You don’t have to take my word for it. … ‘OK.’ … he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.”

“What the hell?” McKinnon asked, shocked. Severus could hardly understand what was being described. He’d never heard of such magic. And to think, the Dark Lord likely enchanted this diary when he was just a boy.

“That almost sounds like a Pensieve,” the man sitting next to Caradoc said.

Caradoc was nodding. “It is likely a similar magic. This is probably a memory stored in the book.”

“He felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around him came suddenly into focus. … But the wizard didn’t look up.”

Caradoc shook his head. “Definitely a memory,” he confirmed. The room seemed to relax a bit as they realized the Potter boy wasn’t in any real danger.

“This circular room with sleeping portraits was Dumbledore’s office - … Harry had never seen this man before.”

Caradoc shook his head. “Dippet,” he identified for the others. “He was Headmaster in ’45.”

“’I’m sorry,’ he said shakily. … Thinking the wizard might be deaf, Harry raised his voice. ‘Sorry I disturbed you. I’ll go now.’”

McKinnon smacked her forehead. “If he was deaf, what did he think raising his voice was going to do?” she asked. Meadows snorted into her hand and Lily just shook her head.

“The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, and walked past Harry without glancing at him, and went to draw the curtains at the window. … ‘Ah, Riddle,’ said the headmaster.”

Severus’s eyes widened at the description of the Dark Lord as a boy.

Vance shook her head. “This is mad,” she said. “I can’t imagine Voldemort as just … a kid.” Her mouth twisted strangely. Others in the room seemed equally conflicted.

“He is just a man,” Dumbledore said softly. Severus thought he was the only one who noticed Regulus’s mouth twist, like he tasted something sour.

Severus narrowed his eyes. He’d never taken the boy for a true fanatic like his cousin. Severus couldn’t figure the boy out.

“’You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?’ … ‘I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that – to that – ‘”

Severus felt a chill run through him.

Black was similarly staring at the book in horror.

“’You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?’”

McKinnon spluttered. “What?” She asked, eyes wide. She turned to look at Dumbledore, perhaps for confirmation, but the old man was staring at the book with a strange look on his face.

Lily shook her head.

“’Yes, sir,’ … ‘’Muggle father, witch mother.’”

He was dead. Severus was dead. The Dark Lord would never let him survive now, information learned be damned. He glanced at Dumbledore, wondering if the old man had planned this the entire time. Severus could simply never accrue enough information for the Dark Lord to look past this… there was simply no way.

“Muggle father,” Meadows repeated, seeming aghast. “I just … how does no one know?” Her gaze shot to the front of the room, where Dumbledore sat. “Why does no one know? Why didn’t you tell us? Tell the stupid pureblood fanatics that the Lord they were so obsessed with wasn’t even a pureblood!”

Several accusatory glares shot his way but Dumbledore, the old coot, only sat there pleasantly and patiently.

“I’m afraid that it isn’t that simple,” he began softly. “Many of young Tom Riddle’s friends from his days at Hogwarts were well aware of his blood status when this war first began. They remain aware to this day,” he said, and it took Severus a moment to understand.

Lily sat back in her seat, arms folded across her chest, eyes determinedly on the wall. “Well I mean, it’s no surprise that a halfblood could be a blood purist,” she said thickly. “Hypocrites are well supplied in the Death Eater ranks.”

Next to her, Black was staring intently at his brother who, when Severus glanced over, has a typically blank face.

“Calling into question You-Know-Who’s blood status has only ever served to discredit those making the accusations,” Caradoc added bitterly, clearly thinking of a specific instance.

Meadows face twisted unhappily, but she sat back and let Prewett continue to read.

“’And both your parents - ?’ … ‘Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather.’”

“Gaunt,” Regulus said suddenly, grey eyes wide but sharp. “He’s a Gaunt. That explains the Parseltongue. Marvolo Gaunt was born in the eighties or so – the 1880s – he had two children. Merope and – I don’t remember,” he bit out frustratedly. “But his mother, that must have been Merope Gaunt.” He spoke fast, like he had just come to some exciting conclusion. Severus raised an eyebrow. Besides being more information that the Dark Lord would surely killing him for knowing, it didn’t seem all that different from what the Dark Lord had just said in the book.

Others seemed to feel the same.

“Okay,” McKinnon stretched the vowels out in the word, clearly making it a question. Regulus shook his head in irritation.

“The Gaunts are direct decedents of Salazar Slytherin. They are, quite literally, Slytherin’s heir. They’re horribly inbred – “

“Bold of you to say,” Black cut in, but his brother only rolled his eyes.

“Far more inbred than us,” Regulus said. Severus scrunched his nose in disgust.

Vance snorted, interrupting. “You’re inbred?” she asked, voice shrill.

Black waved her off. “Only a bit.”

“That explains … so much,” Meadows said. Black flipped her off.

“The point,” Regulus started again, irritated at the interruption. “Is that the Gaunts are all dead. They would have been the last direct descendants of Slytherin.”

“Dippet clicked his tongue sympathetically. … ‘Sir – if the person was caught – if it all stopped – ‘ … But Harry was sure it was the same sort of ‘no’ that he himself had given Dumbledore.”

Lily’s face twisted. “It’s like … it’s like he’s trying to bond with Harry,” she said in disgust. “The early conversation about not wanting to return home …”

“He couldn’t – he couldn’t know that about Harry, though,” Black said. “Right?”

“Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed. … He was none other than a fifty years younger Dumbledore.”

Several in the room glanced at the Headmaster.

“’I had to see the Headmaster, sir,’ … ‘C’mon … gotta get yeh outta here … C’mon now … in the box …’”

The other Prewett paled. “But that sounds like …”

“Hagrid,” Dumbledore confirmed sadly.

“What?” Vance asked, jaw dropping.

“He was blamed for the attacks,” McGonagall explained patiently. Before anyone else could comment on that, Prewett continued.

“There was something familiar about that voice. … ‘It never killed no one!’”

“What … what does Hagrid have, then?” Vance asked, a little nervous. She was surely thinking back to the dragon fiasco of the previous year.

“’Come on, Rubeus,’ … A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam on many eyes and a pair of razor sharp pincers.”

Meadows looked horrified. “A spider?” she screeched.

“Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. … ‘Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.’” The Prewett finished, looking up.

Black snorted. “Well, we know that’s not true.”

The man next to Caradoc again nodded in agreement but what he said was, “it was a convincing memory, if it was fake. But I suspect it was real.”

Black shot him a look. “Real? But we know it was Voldemort!” Bones, Severus was fairly certain his name was, shook his head.

“No, no, it must have been Voldemort. But the memory was likely curtailed, shown in the exact right way to mislead Harry.” Bones explained. “Think of why we don’t allow memories to be shown in Wizengot. They can be manipulated too easily, changed even accidentally.”

Lily frowned. “But – but how does the diary know to mislead Harry?” she asked. “It isn’t … sentient. It’s a diary. It’s just a memory enchantment.”

At this, Dumbledore sighed.

“Why don’t we read another chapter and then assess from there,” the old man suggested. The room grumbled, but eventually seemed to acquiesce.

At some point, the book had been passed to the other Prewett, who lifted it to read.

“Chapter Fourteen. Cornelius Fudge.”

Chapter Text

Frank raised an eyebrow. Cornelius Fudge was a name Frank was unfortunate to have familiarity. Frank’s years as an Auror had taken him into the same circles as Fudge a handful of times, the portly man a rising star in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. He was a consistent thorn in the side of Aurors, quick to close cases that many in the Aurors thought should remain open. He’d shut down any investigation into the disappearance of the Shaqif family as a tragic misfortune several years back, despite many having concerns that the family had been a target during the war for a long time.

Edgar look in surprise over at Moody, who was scowling. Frank knew that the older Auror was far more familiar with Fudge than Frank himself was, and Edgar didn’t seem like he had the best impression of the man either.

Sirius frowned. “Fudge. That name sounds familiar,” he muttered, seeming more to himself than anything else. Edgar scoffed.

“Fudge is one of the more annoying members of the Ministry,” Edgar said evasively, looking like he was trying to prompt Moody to add more. Moody only eyed the book distrustfully, grunting.

James grimaced. “Great. I don’t suppose a decade and a half has suddenly made the man impossibly helpful?”

Edgar didn’t deign that with an answer.

Fabian began reading. “Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always known that Hagrid had an unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures. … But he was equally certain that Hagrid would never have meant to kill anybody.”

Frank sighed. Truthfully, he understood why the children thought that. Yet, despite Dumbledore’s confidence in the man, Frank couldn’t help but think that Hagrid attraction to dangerous beasts might one day end in tragedy. It wasn’t unfathomable that something would eventually go wrong, even with the most careful of handlers.

The children also didn’t know of Voldemort’s true identity, so they had no reason not to trust the diary. Frank wished he could peel back the pages of the book and shout help to Harry himself, but instead he felt helpless as he listened to the story. Still, trusting objects that could think for themselves was dangerous. Even if Harry and Hermoine might not have been warned by their muggle parents, he would have thought that the Weasleys might have told Ron. There were far too many cursed items meant to lure unsuspecting witches and wizards into trouble.

“Harry half wished he hadn’t found out how to work Riddle’s diary. … ‘How many monsters do you think this place can hold?’”

“Plenty,” someone muttered under their breath.

Frank’s eyes darted toward the front of the room, but he couldn’t figure out who had spoken. Others in the room didn’t seem to have any doubt. Both Sirius and James glared harshly at Severus, the former opened his mouth, ready to snap. He was stopped only by Fabian plowing ahead.

“’We always knew Hagrid had been expelled,’ said Harry miserably. … ‘Do you think we should go ask Hagrid about it all?’”

Alice sighed. Frank knew that his wife had a fondness for the half giant, and truthfully Frank did as well. He couldn’t imagine it was something that Hagrid would want to talk about, but it seemed that speaking with Hagrid might be the only way the children would stop suspecting him of opening the Chamber. And maybe then they would begin to question the source of their information.

“’That’d be a cheerful visit,’ … The time had come to choose their subjects for third year, a matter that Hermione, at least, took very seriously.”

Frank smiled, remembering the thrill at the end of second year. His family had always had loads of opinions on which courses he should take at Hogwarts, and no qualms about voicing them. But there was something exciting about having control over what he learned in school. A thrill in deciding one’s future before one was old enough to understand the consequences of what had felt like such innocuous choices.

Emmeline leaned forward. “Oh, I love hearing what others decide to study,” she smiled.

Lily shrugged, a soft smile on her lips as well. “I had no idea about most of the subjects. I asked – “she stopped short, mouth falling flat. “I asked around for advice,” she finished quietly.

“’It could affect our whole future,’ … Neville Longbottom had been sent letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, giving him different advice on what to choose.”

Frank shook his head, a little fond. He’d gotten the same letters. Relatives he hadn’t spoken to in years offering their advice.

“Confused and worried, he sat reading the subject lists with his tongue poking out, … In the end, he chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was lousy at them, at least he’d have someone friendly to help him.”

Lily sighed disappointedly but James grinned, glancing at Sirius.

“Not a bad plan,” he approved.

Frank rolled his eyes as well. Truthfully, Frank thought it was probably more important to Harry to have someone in each class that he knew, rather than a subject that interested him. He was a bit like James in that way. Hogwarts was home first, and a school second. Harry seemed to be a fairly gifted wizard, even without much training and practice. And despite the attitude toward picking his classes, Frank thought that Harry seemed to actually take the time to do his schoolwork, even during the holidays when his books were taken from him.

“Gryffindor’s next Quidditch match would be against Hufflepuff. …At the top of the stairs to the dormitory, he met Neville Longbottom, who was looking frantic.”

Frank sat rigid in his chair and he felt Alice go tense next to him. Even the fleeting mention of Neville in the story had Frank’s heart racing. He had no idea how James and Lily were coping with it.

“’Harry – I don’t know who did it – I just found – ‘ … Dean swore loudly."

“The diary,” Sirius said immediately, looking worried. Everyone in the bar seemed to tense. Frank hoped Sirius was wrong, but it didn’t seem likely.

“’What happened, Harry?’ … ‘Riddle’s diary is gone.’”

Frank sucked in a breath as it was confirmed. But who would have stolen it?

“How would they have even gotten into Gryffindor Common Room?” Marlene asked, horrified.

“The Fat Lady …” Alice trailed off, searching for an explanation. The Fat Lady was occasionally forgetful, but she could be strict about allowing students into the dorms. Even if she recognized you as a Gryffindor, she wouldn’t open her portrait for anything short of the password.

“Who said they needed to get in? They might have already been there,” Regulus Black spoke up, voice even. It took a moment for his words to sink in. Remus looked offended, but not upset, furrowing his eyebrows. “You think it was a Gryffindor?” he asked. Remus seemed to be considering it, but next to him, Sirius rolled his eyes.

“We’re looking for the heir of Slytherin,” Sirius emphasized. Regulus’s lips were pressed together.

“How would anyone else have gotten in?” he persisted. It was a fair question, but Sirius was ready with an answer.

“Earlier this book Harry and Ron got into the Slytherin dormitories,” he waived off. Regulus sighed and glanced away, evidently deciding it wasn’t worth pursuing. Frank, at least, thought it was worth considering.

“’What?’ … ‘Kill this time … let me rip …tear …’”

“It’s a snake,” Regulus said suddenly. Frank jumped at the interruption, engrossed in the book’s description of this strange voice.

“That’s why only Harry can hear it,” Regulus rushed to explain, turning fully to Pandora who, like always, was sitting next to him. Pandora’s wide blue eyes sparked recognition. “Harry is a Parselmouth. Slytherin’s monster, I mean of course it’s a snake!”

“It was right in front of us,” Pandora said, shaking her head. Frank couldn’t believe they didn’t figure it out sooner. Harry had talked to a snake only a few chapters ago. Of course, no one else could hear the voice! No one else at Hogwarts was a Parselmouth.

“That makes sense,” Sirius said, leaning forward onto his elbows.

Remus frowned. “But what snake can paralyze you?” he asked. “There would have been fang marks on the bodies. How has no one else figured it out?”

Emmeline narrowed her eyes. “Maybe they have figured it out,” she said darkly, and Frank thought it was his imagination, but he would have sworn her eyes flickered over to Dumbledore.

Regulus, however, was shaking his head. “A Basilisk,” he said. Pandora’s eyes blew, if anything, even wider.

“Xeno did a study on them for his Mastery,” she said. “They’re supposed to be extinct in England.”

Marlene frowned. “But they kill you. People would be dead if it was a Basilisk,” she argued. “Or, more people,” she amended, clearly thinking of Myrtle.

Regulus shook his head. “But that’s the thing, only if you look at one directly.”

Pandora was nodding as well, clearly buying the other boy’s theory. “Indirectly, it would only petrify a person,” she added. Frank thought that the distinction was an impossible coincidence. Surely, more would be dead if that were the case, but others in the room seemed to be warming to the idea.

“Oh, Rowena,” Gideon whispered, looking horrified. “It’s been in front of us this entire time. Hagrid’s chickens!”

Benjy frowned. “A Basilisk is huge, though” he said, not dismissing the theory. “How has no one noticed it?” The rest of the bar seemed to fall silent at this, even Regulus unable to offer a solution. Frank thought it was a good point, but the Basilisk was making too much sense, especially as a monster born of Salazar Slytherin.

But how was it moving about the castle?

“He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm. … ‘Harry – I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!’”

“She must have figured it out,” Emmeline said breathlessly.

“And she sprinted away, up the stairs. … Harry’s heart dropped like a stone.”

“Cancelled,” James said sadly, clearly recognizing the procedure. Remus looked at him worriedly.

“I hope that doesn’t mean there was another attack.” James’s face paled, exchanging worried looks with Lily.

“’This match has been cancelled,’ … ‘Potter, I think you better come with me.’”

The room was silent as everyone tried to digest what that meant. Why McGonagall would single Harry out like that. Frank’s heart felt heavy.

No…

“Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, … ‘Hermione!’ Ron groaned.”

There was a beat of horrified silence.

“She’s alive,” Marlene said resolutely. “They brought her to the Hospital Wing, she must be alive.”

At this point, it was little comfort. Petrified. Frank felt ill at the thought. She was just thirteen. Merlin, they were all so young. None of them should be dealing with this.

“Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy. … She was holding up a small circular mirror.”

Lily smiled sadly. “She knew.”

“She probably saved that Ravenclaw’s life,” Emmeline said, her voice thick.

“’I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,’ … ‘The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin – why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherin’s out?’”

Dorcas turned away bitterly.

“Percy Weasley was sitting in the chair behind Lee, but for once he didn’t seem keen to make his views heard. … ‘it’s time to get out my dad’s old cloak again.’”

James groaned. “I’d prefer if he didn’t use that to sneak around the castle while there’s a snake that can kill you just by looking at you.”

“At least he can hear the snake,” Emmeline pointed out dully. “It won’t be able to sneak up on him.”

“Unless he goes chasing after it,” Gideon muttered darkly.

Lily paled and Gideon grimaced, seeming to process his words.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Harry had inherited just one thing from his father: a long and silvery Invisibility cloak.”

Sirius choked out a laugh. A few people looked at him in shock.

“Sorry,” he said. He glanced over at James, a spark of humor in his otherwise distressed expression. “Sorry mate. I just feel like Harry’s forgetting about a few thousand galleons and a Gringotts vault.”

James cracked, shaking his head in laughter. Even Lily managed a smile.

“It was their only chance of sneaking out of the school to visit Hagrid without anyone knowing about it. … ‘I’ve bin expectin’ – doesn’ matter – Sit down – I’ll make tea – ‘”

Frank frowned. That was strange, even for Hagrid.

“He hardly seemed to know what he was doing. … ‘Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!’”

Gideon crinkled his nose. “Him?” he asked, dismayed. Edgar was shaking his head as well.

“I knew he was gunning for it but thought after Minchum was ousted,” Edgar shook his head, trailing off.

Marius Minchum was the previous Minister of magic and had been under a lot of scrutiny as his promises to the end the war had gone unfulfilled. He was removed from office a few years prior due to allegations of corruption. They were never proven, but the rumors along with the refusal to truly address the Death Eater problem put the current Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, in charge.

Frank didn’t have as many complaints about the woman. She seemed clean and was not afraid to take harsh action. Her appointment of Bartemius Crouch to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been well received at the time, even if Frank found himself having doubts two years into his term. Fudge, by contrast, had been a Minchum man, appointed junior minister under the former Minister of Magic. Frank couldn’t imagine the country turning on Bagnold, but if these books had taught him anything it was that he could have never predicted the next decade.

“Harry elbowed Ron hard to make him shut up. … ‘Not Azkaban?’ croaked Hagrid.”

A chill settled over the room.

“They couldn’t, right?” Sirius asked, eyes flashing. No one answered.

“Before Fudge could answer, there was another loud rap on the door. … Mr. Lucius Malfoy strode into Hagrid’s Hut, swathed in a long black travelling cloak, smiling a cold and satisfied smile.”

“Could this get any worse?” Marlene muttered, glaring at the book in Fabian’s hands. Frank’s heart dropped.

“Fang started to growl. … ‘Dreadful thing, Dumbledore,’ said Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment. ‘but the governors feel it is time for you to step aside. This in an Order of Suspension – ‘”

“That’s …” Alice trailed off in horror.

“’You’ll find all twelve signatures on it.’ … ‘If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall, of course, step aside – ‘”

There were a few looks of shock and betrayal shot toward Dumbledore.

“’But – ‘ … ‘You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.’”

James gaped at Dumbledore. Throughout the scene, the old man had seemed unaffected by the story, his face betraying only mild interest at his mention.

“You knew they were there?” James asked, astonished. Dumbledore only looked a little surprised.

“I don’t know,” the headmaster said easily. “None of this has happened.”

James sighed, clearly unsatisfied with the reaction.

“For a second, Harry was almost sure that Dumbledore’s eyes flickered toward the corner where he and Ron stood hidden. … Fang started howling. Scratching at the door.” Fabian glanced up as he finished. “Who’s next?”

Emmeline leaned over, sticking her hand out. “I can get the chapter. We should be nearing toward the end of this book, right?”

Fabian nodded. “We might be able to start the next book before we break for the day?” he seemed to ask and there were murmurs of assent around the room.

“Well, we best get on with it then,” Emmeline sighed, flipping to the next page in the book with a frown. “Chapter Fifteen: Aragog,” she began.

Chapter Text

Fabian didn’t want to admit he was nervous. It was a bit irrational, something Fabian was sure his brother would remind him should he confess his fears to him. But Fabian couldn’t help it. The more they read these books, the more real they seemed, as if the very act of reading them was willing them into existence, solidifying them as fact and future. He spared a glance at the woman, Trelawney, who had been mostly silent since the reading had begun. Her face was a twist of fear and worry and it did nothing to ease the churn of Fabian’s gut.

Emmeline began reading next to him.

“Summer was creeping over the grounds at the castle; … Who exactly were they supposed to ask for help, when everyone was just as confused and scared as they were.”

Fabian’s heart ached. He understood why the children felt so alone, it seemed at every turn adults were failing them. Surely there were still parts of the Order around? Still forces at Hogwarts aware of the threats so clearly stirring. Unbiddenly, Fabian glanced at their old Headmaster, Dumbledore, thinking of his words from the last chapter. What exactly had he meant?

“Hagrid’d hint about the spiders was far easier to understand - … Draco Malfoy was strutting around the school as if he had just been appointed Head Boy.”

Fabian shook his head in disgust.

Fabian remembered Lucius Malfoy from school just fine, and he couldn’t help but see the similarities in the boy, Draco. It was hard to remind himself that the boy in the book was only twelve, when it just felt like history, repeating itself over. He could tell Sirius felt much of the same, the other man glaring at the book.

Regulus, on the other hand, seemed a little sad, as he listened to Emmeline read. Surprising Fabian, Dorcas also had a flash of something cross her face, but eventually her expression settled into something unreadable.

“Harry didn’t realize what he was so pleased about until the Potions lesson about two weeks after Dumbledore and Hagrid left, when, sitting right behind Malfoy, Harry overheard him gloating to Crabbe and Goyle. … ‘McGonagall won’t last long, she’s only filling in.”

The woman in question only raised an eyebrow at the assessment of her in the books.

“Snape swept past Harry, making no comment about Hermione’s empty seat and cauldron. … ‘I’ll tell father you’re the best teacher here, sir – ‘”

Fabian caught Sirius mimicking throwing up into his hand.

“Snape smirked as he swept off around the dungeon, fortunately not spotting Seamus Finnigan, who was pretending to vomit into his cauldron.”

Sirius snickered aloud at that. Next to him, Lily just shook her head, seeming too exhausted to comment.

“’I’m quite surprised the Mudbloods haven’t all packed their bags by now,’ … ‘I don’t care, I don’t need my wand, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands – ‘”

Fabian felt a surge of fondness for his nephew, despite the homicidal threat.

“’Hurry up, I’ve got to take you all to Herbology,’ … He held out a pudgy hand, and Harry shook it.”

Fabian thought that Harry might have forgiven Ernie a bit too easily, but Lily was smiling fondly at the book.

“Ernie and his friend Hannah came to work at the same Shrivelfig as Harry and Ron. … Harry hit Ron over the hand with his pruning shears.”

Fabian frowned as Harry described the strange movement of the spiders, almost like they were fleeing something.

“The Basilisk,” Pandora said, seeming to answer the unspoken question. “The spiders will flee from it.”

Lily shot a fearful look at James who grabbed her hand. Fabian hoped that the spiders were fleeing all over the castle, and not just in this particular spot. He hoped that it was not a sign that the Basilisk was right there.

“’Ouch!’ … ‘Looks like they’re heading for the Forbidden Forest …’”

Lily frowned. “Why on earth would Hagrid tell them to go back in there?” she sounded beyond frustrated. Fabian’s own anxiety began to climb as Ron and Harry started to put the pieces together.

“And Ron looked even unhappier about that. … ‘Er- aren’t there – aren’t there supposed to be werewolves in the forest?’”

Something Ron said had some of the room stiffening. James, Sirius, and Peter looked like someone had cast a petrification charm on them. Remus looked pale and Sirius was glancing worriedly at him.

“There aren’t werewolves in the Forbidden Forest,” Marlene said, a little dismissively. In a blink, the tension was cut in the room, and Fabian could almost pretend he had imagined the stiffness only moments ago.

“Couldn’t there be?” Alice asked worriedly.

“Unless it’s a full moon, wouldn’t that just be a man?” Emmeline questioned. Fabian certainly wasn’t imagining it now. Sirius glared at the ground and James looked like he was trying to will Emmeline to continue reading. “Could you really see a man just walking about the forest?” she asked instead.

For some reason, Remus was stiff with tension. Finally, Emmeline turned back to the book.

“Preferring not to answer that question, Harry said, ‘There are good things in there too. The centaurs are all right, and the unicorns …’”

Pandora frowned. “I’m not sure he should be basing his opinion of the centaurs off Firenze,” she said. Fabian was impressed she remembered the centaur’s name, from last book. “He seems to be more the exception than the rule.”

Emmeline nodded in agreement. “Most centaurs want very little to do with wizard affairs.”

“Ron had never been into the Forbidden Forest before. … ‘The culprit has been taken away – ‘”

Marlene snorted. “There is no way they honestly believe that Hagrid is responsible.” Marlene shook her head.

Caradoc, however, merely shrugged. “They did in the 40s,” he said.

With that, everyone shifted uncomfortably.

“’Says who?’ said Dean Thomas loudly. … The sight seemed to stiffen his resolve, and he nodded.”

Fabian felt his heart go out to his nephew. He wished he could comfort Ron in some way, reassure him that Hermione would be okay. But Fabian couldn’t even do that. He had no idea if Hermoine would be okay. He felt so helpless, sitting here and reading these books. He’d joined the order because he had wanted to make a difference. Wanted to take action. It was excruciating, listening to how all their problems fell to children.

All their failures.

“The Gryffindor common room was always very crowded these days, because from six o’clock onward the Gryffindors had nowhere else to do. … ‘I know it looked like they were moving in that sort of general direction, but …’”

Fabian shook his head. He could tell Ron was hoping that their little adventure wouldn’t lead them into the Forbidden Forest, but Fabian was starting to get a sense for the children’s luck. It was rotten.

“His voice trailed away hopefully. … ‘C’mon, Fang, we’re going for a walk.’”

Fabian let out a breath at the thought that they were taking Fang with them. Even if it was just as a deterrent, or an early warning system.

“Harry took out his wand, murmured ‘Lumos!’ and a tiny light appeared at the end of it, just enough to let them watch the path for signs of spiders. … Something wet touched Harry’s hand and he jumped backwards.”

Fabian jumped too, not realizing just how nervous he was becoming. He saw Lily stiffen as well. Next to him, his brother was rigid with tension. Fabian wished he had the words to comfort him, but his throat was dry.

“But it was only Fang’s nose.”

Lily shook her head, clearly trying to force herself to relax.

“’What d’you reckon?’ … Listen … sounds like something big …’”

Fabian’s pulse spiked.

“They listened. … ‘Harry, it’s our car!’”

“No way,” Gideon breathed, clearly relived it wasn’t anything more dangerous.

“’What?’ … ‘The forest’s turned it wild …’”

“How is that possible?” Emmeline asked timidly, like she was afraid to interrupt the narration.

“What did Arthur enchant it with?” Remus asked, glancing over at Fabian as if he might have the answer.

Next to him, Gideon shrugged. “Arthur hasn’t started this project, yet. We have no idea.”

“The sides of the car were scratched and smeared with mud. … His face was livid with terror.”

Fabian felt his blood go cold. He felt helpless, listening to the book describe the danger his nephew was in.

“Harry didn’t even have time to turn around. … Head hanging, Harry aw that what had hold of him was marching on six immensely long, hairy legs, the front two clutching him tightly below a pair of shining black pincers.”

“Aragog,” Caradoc breathed in horror. He glanced over at McGonagall and Dumbledore, who both seemed to recognize the creature as well.

“Rubeus was supposed to have gotten rid of him,” McGonagall said in horror.

“You know how Hagrid is. He probably thought he had Aragog under control,” Caradoc said, shaking his head. McGonagall’s mouth set into a hard line.

“What is it?” Marlene asked, glancing at the others. Caradoc sighed tiredly.

“An Aracomantula. It was the monster from Harry’s vision,” Caradoc explained carefully, like he wanted to forget it was actually Tom Riddle’s vision.

Lily glanced at him fearfully. “What will Aragog do?” she asked. Caradoc’s face spasmed, but it did not look like he was moving to answer.

“Perhaps Aragog is still loyal to Hagrid?” Emmeline asked, sounding hopeful.

“Loyal or not, Aragog is a beast first and foremost,” Caradoc said sadly. “That is what rules his actions now.”

Remus Lupin stiffened at these words.

“Behind him, he could hear another of the creatures, no doubt carrying Ron. … Spiders the size of cart-horses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic.”

Dorcas shivered. Marlene glanced over in worry at her girlfriend.

“The massive specimen that was carrying Harry made its way down the steep slope toward a misty, domed web in the center of the hallow, … He was blind.”

Emmeline frowned. The bar got quiet at the description of the spider. Dorcas’s face was paler than Fabian had ever seen it. McGonagall folder her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair.

“’What is this?’ … ‘Kill them,’ clicked Aragog fretfully. ‘I was sleeping …’”

“Oh Merlin,” Gideon breathed out. Fabian was tense, as if he was about to jump into battle right then.

“’We’re friends of Hagrid’s,’ Harry shouted.”

Gideon nodded approvingly. “That was smart,” he muttered, clearly still stressed.

“His heart seemed to have left his chest to pound in his throat. … ‘Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in the castle, feeding me scraps from the table.’”

Fabian shook his head. He could see Hagrid doing that, the man’s big heart always bigger for beasts. But for the first time, Fabian felt his frustration at Hagrid spike. He knew the half giant cared for creatures but there was a time and place. And a school filled with children was neither.

“’Hagrid is my good friend, a good man.’ … ‘The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom.’”

Dorcas shook her head. “They’ll put it together now that it was Myrtle,” she said, voice strained. “They need to get out.”

“’I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up.’ … ‘We do not speak of it!’”

Fabian groaned. How much easier it would be if Aragog just told them of the Basilisk.

“’We do not name it!’ … ‘I think not …’”

Fabian’s heart sank. He had thought, for a moment, that Aragog really would have simply let them go.

“But – Hagrid…” Emmeline started.

“Hagrid isn’t there anymore,” Fabian said darkly.

“’But – but – ‘ … ‘Good-bye, friend of Hagrid.’”

Fabian cursed. His brother was silent next to him.

“Harry spun around. … Mr. Weasley’s car was thundering down the slope, headlights glaring, its horn screeching, knocking spiders aside.’”

Fabian cheered, feeling tension flow out of his body in an instant. Arthur’s Merlin be damned car. Fabian felt like he could hug his brother in law in that moment. Hope sparked in him for the first time in the chapter and he was suddenly imbued with the thought that this would all work out.

“Arthur must have enchanted it to protect,” Gideon was muttering.

“The car screeched to a halt in front of Harry and Ron and the doors flew open. … After ten noisy, rocky minutes, the trees thinned, and Harry would again see patches of sky.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Lily breathed out.

“The car stopped so suddenly that they were nearly thrown into the windshield. … When Harry got outside again, he found Ron being violently sick in the pumpkin patch.”

“That was bloody stupid,” Gideon muttered under his breath. Fabian, feeling more of himself, let out a breathy laugh.

“He was brave, though,” he whispered to his brother.

Gideon shook his head, but a small smile pulled at his lips.

“So, what I said,” Gideon replied.

“’Follow the spiders,’ … ‘I bet he thought Aragog wouldn’t hurt friends of his,’ said Harry. ‘That’s exactly Hagrid’s problem!’”

Emmeline shook her head. “I hate to agree,” she muttered. No one in the bar seemed inclined to argue with her.

“’He always thinks monsters aren’t as bad as they’re made out, and look where it’s got him!’”

Only because he was looking did Fabian catch Remus’s face pale once again. He didn’t know what was happening with the other man, but Fabian watched as Remus glanced very subtly at James, Peter and Sirius, sat around him. Fabian couldn’t tell what was going on in the other boy’s head but he seemed to come to some conclusion, his expression darkening with guilt.

“’A cell in Azkaban!’ … ‘You don’t think – not Moaning Myrtle?’”

“Well, finally,” Dorcas breathed. She still seemed shaken from the description of the spiders but was getting her wits about her.

“Give it here,” Moody said, gesturing to the book. Emmeline handed it over to him dutifully. The old Auror cracked it open.

“Chapter Sixteen. The Chamber of Secrets,” he read. Lily’s face paled immediately.

“Well that doesn’t sound good,” Fabian muttered.

Chapter Text

Sirius was in a poor mood. That might have been an understatement, given the circumstances. It seemed every damn chapter of these books was intent on making things worse, and they were only nearly through the second one. Sirius couldn’t imagine the next book getting any worse.

The previous chapter had clearly put Remus on edge, the other man sitting stiffly next to Sirius, eyes distant. And yet, as always, Remus was clearly insistent in maintaining that he was fine. Maybe he even believed it himself.

“’All those times we were in that bathroom,” Moody started suddenly, and Sirius forced himself to focus. “And she was just three toilets away.’ … ‘We’re still getting exams?’”

Lily shook her head, exasperated, seeming to have calmed down from the stress of the last chapter. Sirius shot McGonagall a betrayed look.

“Harsh, Minnie,” he said lightly. He was successful in pulling a thin smile to Remus’s face. McGonagall gave him a stern look, but her eyes softened, undermining any disappointment she was trying to convey.

“Do try and focus, Mr. Black,” she chided.

“There was a loud bang behind Harry as Neville Longbottom’s wand slipped, vanishing one of the legs on his desk. … Study hard! It had never occurred to Harry that there would be exams with the castle in this state.”

“Merlin,” Marlene muttered. “He’s just like James.”

James gave a goofy smile.

“There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even more darkly. … ‘Tonight, we will be able to revive those who have been petrified,’”

“Hermoine will be able to tell them Slytherin’s monster,” Benjy pointed out, relieved. Some people around the room nodded, but Sirius felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. Harry still trusted the diary … still trusted Voldemort. Sirius shared a glance toward Lily and saw fear flicker in her green eyes. There was still something to come.

“’I need hardly to remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them.’”

Emmeline shook her head. “I don’t understand, if they remembered, what about the people who were attacked in the 40s?” she asked.

Fabian frowned, wrinkles creasing his spotted forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there were student’s attacked before Myrtle, right?” Emmeline struggled to explain for a moment. Realization flickered in Lily’s eyes and she sat forward as well. “Voldemort’s flashback told us that. Why weren’t they able to identify the Basilisk?”

“Petrification can have that affect,” Edgar jumped in to explained. The older man looked tired, worry drawing his features.

Next to Edgar, Caradoc nodded. “We thought that Myrtle’s lack of memory was due to death trauma, at the time. However it simply could have been another effect of the Basilisk.”

“’I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit.’”

Sirius tensed. That sounded an awful lot like tempting fate.

“There was an explosion of cheering. … She looked tense and nervous, and Harry noticed that her hands were twisting in her lap.”

Sirius frowned at the description of the younger Weasley sister. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought much of the girl during the book but thinking of her mentions now, he got the impression that perhaps she wanted to tell them something.

“’What’s up?’ … ‘I’ve got to tell you something,’ Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at Harry.”

Marlene sat straight up. “What is she doing?”

Sirius glanced in surprise, not expecting the strange excitement in Marlene’s tone. The blond looked almost impressed at the book. Next to her, her girlfriend frowned.

“I don’t think that’s what she’s doing,” Dorcas said slowly, eyes narrowing.

“’What is it?’ said Harry. … ‘If you’ve finished eating, I’ll take that seat, Ginny. I’m starving, I’ve only just come off patrol duty.’”

Emmeline frowned. “What, was she about to – “

“Does she know about the Chamber?” Dorcas asked, voice suddenly sharp. Marlene shook her head.

“I mean – how?” Marlene asked. “And why?” Marlene’s eyes flickered around the room, but no one really answered her question. Movement in the front of the room caught Sirius’s eyes, and he locked onto his brother, who was sharing a knowing look with Pandora Lovegood. Before Sirius could comment, Dorcas continued.

“That didn’t exactly sound like a love confession,” Dorcas said. Sirius frowned, looking over at her.

“Love confession?” he asked. Marlene gave him an annoyed look.

“Boys are so stupid,” she said pitifully.

Before they could continue, Moody continued reading.

“Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and scampered away. … ‘the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody.’”

Sirius frowned in suspicion.

“’I must say, I did think she’d keep her word.’ … ‘I agree, sir,’ said Harry, making Ron drop his books in surprise.”

“Excuse me?” Sirius asked, a little indignantly.

“’Thank you, Harry,’ … ‘Why don’t you leave us here, sir, we’ve only got one more corridor to go –‘”

“Clever,” breathed Lily, though she didn’t exactly seem happy that Harry had tricked himself in a lack of supervision.

“’You know, Weasley – I think I will,’ … ‘Of course,’ she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye.”

Sirius glanced over and saw McGonagall watching the book with pity. It was clearly a lie that Harry was telling, but McGonagall still seemed saddened. It made his throat tighten.

“’Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been … I quite understand.’ … ‘Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one’ll ever know.’”

Marlene sighed, a little defeated.

“But Harry wasn’t looking at Hermione’s face. … he saw a piece of paper was scrunched in her fist.”

Lily frowned, leaning forward. “What is that?” she asked to no one. Remus glanced over at her.

“She was going to library before she was petrified, remember?” he asked slowly. Lily’s eyes lit up.

“Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he pointed this out to Ron. … Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.”

“Did Hagrid know then?” Benjy asked, almost incredulous. “About the spiders?” The man seemed slightly horrified by the prospect.

Emmeline shook her head. “I’m sure he just thought Aragog would let them know he wasn’t the culprit.”

“The roosters too,” Gideon said tiredly. Next to him Emmeline’s face lit up in recognition.

“Hagrid said someone had killed them,” she said breathlessly. Sirius nearly groaned. Of course, all the clues where there the entire time. They were just focused on the petrification, convinced that it had been an intentional effect, the goal of growing fear. But the petrification had been an accident, a fluke.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Lily said, shaking her head. “Clearly someone is helping the monster. They opened the Chamber on instructions from the diary, but who?” she asked, a little redundantly, but her eyes sparked challenge, searching the room.

Again, Regulus turned toward Pandora, slightly worry etched on his usually stoic face. Sirius’s eyes narrowed again.

“And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry recognized as Hermione’s. Pipes.”

Emmeline sat up. “Of course! That’s how the Basilisk has been moving around Hogwarts unseen. It’s in the walls. That’s why Harry could hear it, but not see it.”

Frankly, Sirius didn’t see how, or even why Hogwarts would have pipes the size of a giant snake. A full-grown Basilisk was huge. He couldn’t imagine it squeezing into a drainage pipe. However, others were agreeing.

“That makes sense,” Gideon said. “With the expansion charms placed on the pipes,” he elaborated.

“Expansion charms?” Sirius asked, frowning. He glanced over, but James and Peter looked just as confused. Remus rolled his eyes though.

“You really need to read, Hogwarts: A History,” the other man said.

“Where is it gaining entrance to the pipes?” Benjy asked, snapping back the room’s focus.

There was silence. “It wouldn’t … it would have access in a bathroom,” Emmeline said slowly. Lily paled.

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” she said gravely.

“It was as though somebody had just flicked a light on in his brain. … ‘And that girl pulled out her mirror – and – ‘”

Emmeline shook her head. “It’s luck,” she whispered, horrified. “Pure luck no one was killed.”

“Ron’s jaw dropped. … ‘- Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,’ said Harry.”

Sirius shook his head. “The entrance to the Chamber is in the girl’s bathroom?” he asked, incredulous. “Just – why?”

Dumbledore sat in the front of the room, more creases than normal twisted into his wrinkled face. “The school has been remodeled over the years. It’s possible the location was updated with plumbing after Salazar sealed it away.”

“They sat there, excitement coursing through them, hardly able to believe it. … ‘Should we go straight to McGonagall?’”

“Yes,” Lily said emphatically, glaring at the book. There was no reason for the boys to go to the restroom or continue sneaking around the castle. The Mandrakes were almost mature, this would hopefully all be over soon.

“’Let’s go to the staffroom,’ said Harry, jumping up. … ‘All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom, Immediately, please.’”

Sirius felt a chill down his spine. Something horrible had happened.

“What’s going on?” Benjy asked nervously, though it was clear only reading further would answer their questions. The room was thick with tension.

“Another attack?” Marlene guessed anxiously, tapping her fingers are the bar. Dorcas reached out to put a hand over them, stilling her twitching.

“Harry wheeled around to stare at Ron. … ‘Go back to the dormitory?’ ‘No.’”

Lily groaned. Sirius wondered if all of Harry’s disobedience was just karma for their own school days. His leg began to tap restlessly.

“There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers’ cloaks. … ‘A student had been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.’”

“Shit,” Marlene whispered, horrified. Sirius’s heart quickened in his chest. He threw a glance over to Alice and Frank. Gideon and Fabian. Even Edgar Bones near the corner. Everyone with a family member somewhere in this book.

“But … why?” Emmeline asked, brow furrowed. “Why change the method now?” Gideon looked somewhat sick next to her.

“Maybe the Basilisk was finally successful,” he suggested, the words coming out of his mouth like he was spitting bile.

The room sat with Gideon’s words in silence for a few moments.

“Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. … ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’”

Sirius shook his head.

“But Harry and Ron know where the entrance is now,” Emmeline said a little desperately. “Surely they could still tell McGonagall and she’ll call the Ministry of something.”

Sirius had never put a lot of faith in the ministry before, but he couldn’t help but hope Emmeline was right.

“Professor Flitwick burst into tears. … ‘Ginny Weasley.’” Moody said gravely, glancing up at Fabian and Gideon, whose faces had gone sheet white.

Fabian glanced at his brother, whose gaze had cast downward. Fabian reached out, seeming to want to grasp his brother’s arm, maybe in comfort or maybe it was simply a subconscious movement, but Gideon drew back. Just the smallest movement. Fabian froze.

“Why – why Ginny?” Fabian asked, glancing up. Sirius was shaking his head, about to say that it must have just been random. The first student wandering whatever hall the snake had found itself in. But another voice spoke up.

“Oh no,” Dorcas said and strangely, her eyes shot to Regulus, who was looking back, something … knowing in his eyes.

“What?” Fabian asked, voice hard.

“The diary,” Dorcas explained, face pained. “When it was stolen, it was stolen for Gryffindor dormitories. The children thought that only a Gryffindor would have been able to get access.”

Marlene shook her head. “It’s not impossible to sneak into the dormitories.” Sirius knew this to be true. He himself snuck into the girls’ Gryffindor nearly nightly toward the end his fifth year with either a hover spell or a sticky feat spell. “I mean, Merlin, you can access the Hufflepuff dormitory from the kitchens,” Marlene continued.

“But if it was a Gryffindor …” Regulus finally added, trailing off and letting the others fill in the rest.

Marlene shook her head. “But Ginny is not the heir of Slytherin,” she said, resolutely.

“Are you sure?” Regulus asked plainly.

“She has no blood relation to Slytherin,” Fabian said, voice flat. He was shaking his head as he continued. “She’s not – she couldn’t.”

“It makes sense though,” Dorcas pressed. “She could have gotten the diary back from the boys’ dorm.”

“Why would she do that, though?” asked Emmeline, a little more reasonably.

“She must have been using the diary,” Gideon cut in for the first time, a little hoarsely. Sirius’s heart sunk. He thought back to how easily the diary had manipulated Harry in just a single night. Ginny had the diary for a full year.

“Maybe – maybe she doesn’t know what she has done,” Lily said, a little hauntedly.

“Harry felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside him. … ‘Your moment has come at last.’”

Sirius would deny it, but he fought amusement at Snape’s taunt. It was clearly not the time or place, but Sirius couldn’t stand Lockhart standing there pretending to have the solutions.

“Lockhart blanched. … ‘You’ll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last.’”

Sirius shook his head in disgust.

“Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to his rescue. … ‘She knew something, Harry,’ … ‘She’d found something out about the Chamber of Secrets.’”

Now that actually made a bit of sense.

“Is that possible?” Emmeline asked desperately. Sirius still thought something was wrong with that.

“Do you think she caught the Heir?” Benjy asked and Sirius couldn’t help but shake his head. That just didn’t make sense.

Dorcas pursed her lips.

“’That must be why she was – ‘ … ‘D’you think there’s any chance at all she’s not – you know – ‘”

An uneasy silence fell over the room. This time, when Fabian reached out, Gideon let his brother grasp his arm. If the monster in the Chamber truly was a Basilisk, all Ginny Weasley would have to do was look at it and she would be gone. It seemed almost futile to hope.

“Harry didn’t know what to say. … ‘We can tell him where we think it is and tell him it’s a basilisk in there.’”

Sirius grimaced. Surely, Lockhart, the coward, was long gone. They needed to go to McGonagall. Sirius didn’t understand why the plan changed away from McGonagall.

“They should not be leaving their dorm,” Lily said, seeming almost angry.

“What happened to telling McGonagall?” Marlene moaned into her hands. Emmeline shot a desperate look toward the front of the room.

“Maybe she hasn’t come by the common room yet?” she asked.

“Because Harry couldn’t think of anything else to do, and because he wanted to do something, he agreed."

Lily moaned. “That is a horrible reason!”

“The Gryffindors around them were so miserable, and felt so sorry for the Weasleys, that nobody tried to stop them as they got up, crossed the room, and left through the portrait hole. … ‘Are you going somewhere?’”

Sirius shook his head. “Coward,” he muttered.

“We should probably be grateful,” Benjy said darkly. “He’d only make things worse.”

“Can it be worse?” Gideon whispered quietly. The redhead was staring at the book, entirely distraught.

“’Er, well, yes.’ … ‘You mean you’re running away?’ … ‘So you’ve just been taking credit for what a load of other people have down?’”

Benjy snorted in disgust. “I knew it.” The brunet shook his head.

“’Harry, Harry,’ … ‘If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my memory charms. … You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog.’”

Emmeline scoffed, appalled. “That’s despicable!”

“He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them. … He pulled out his wand and turned toward them.”

Sirius’s blood froze. This was an adult, a full-grown man, turning a wand on two children. Sirius’s teeth were grinding together so hard they were beginning to ache.

“No,” Lily croaked. Her knuckled were white where she was clutching James’s hand. The other man was staring intently at the book, as if willing it to solve everything.

“’Awfully sorry, boys, but I’ll have to put a memory charm on you now.’ … ‘Expelliarmus!’”

Sirius felt a thrill of pride.

“Lockhart was blasted backward, falling over his trunk; his wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it, and flung it out of the open window.”

“Brilliant,” Fabian said, life seeping back into his eyes. Sirius fought a bit of a grin, remembering Ron’s solution to the duel with Malfoy in the first book. He shot a fond look at the Prewett brothers, who paid his no mind.

“’Shouldn’t have let Professor Snape teach us that one.”

There was a slight pause as Sirius thought through the implications that Snape had, even indirectly, helped Harry.

“Lockhart was looking up at him, feeble once more. … ‘Let’s go.’”

Marlene grimaced. “I’m not sure bringing him along is the best idea.”

“I’m not sure going is the best idea,” Remus said, quiet enough that Gideon and Fabian did not hear him. Or they just ignored him. Sirius thought he saw a look of conflict pass over Fabian’s face.

Dorcas shook her head. “They should just bring him to McGonagall.”

“They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the message shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. … ‘I died in this very stall. … they said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been.’”

“Parseltongue,” Regulus said, almost absentmindedly. “Voldemort is a Parselmouth, the heir of Slytherin. It must require Parseltongue to access the Chamber.”

“’Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. … ‘I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away …’”

Sirius felt a chill at the description. He’d always seen death as something he could fight, but Myrtle’s description, she’d simply looked as a Basilisk and been dead the next moment. How could anyone defend themselves against that?

“She looked dreamily at Harry. … Scratched on the side of one of the copper traps was a tiny snake.”

“No way,” Marlene muttered.

“'That trap‘s never worked,’ … ‘English,’ he said. … ‘I’m going down there,’ he said.”

Lily made a sound of frustration. James pulled her closer to him, his own face pulled taught.

“He couldn’t not go, not now that they had found the entrance to the Chamber, … ‘You can go first,’ Ron snarled.”

Sirius did not think it was a good idea at all to bring Lockhart.

“White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening. … ‘Under the lake, probably,’ said Ron, squinting around the dark, slimy walls.”

“How are they going to get back up?” Marlene asked pointlessly. There were a number of spells that could help them, but they were second years.

“Maybe Lockhart …” Emmeline trailed off, seeming to give up the thought immediately.

“All three of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead. … But the tunnel was quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat’s skull.”

Sirius saw Peter go pale. He had become sensitive, as they all had truly, to rats after becoming an animagus. The other boy looked nearly green and had grown quieter as the readings progressed. Sirius tried to catch his eye to give him a tight smile, but the other man never met his gaze.

“Harry lowered his wand to look at the floor and saw it was littered with animal bones. … Harry could see the outline of something huge and curves, lying right across the tunnel.”

“No, no, no,” Lily was muttering.

“It wasn’t moving. … The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.”

Sirius hated this.

“’Blimey,’ … Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Ron’s wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his face.”

“Absolute asshole,” hissed Fabian but Gideon had something close to a relieved look on his face for the first time since the start of the chapter.

“Bloody idiot,” he breathed, and Fabian shot his brother a strange look. Gideon shook his head. “That’s Ron’s wand,” he said by way of explanation, something that could generously be called a smile playing on his lips.

The pieces fell in place for Sirius. “It’s broken,” he said. A light flickered in Remus’s eyes as well.

“All the spells have backfired this whole year,” he agreed.

“’The adventure ends here boys!’ … ‘Obliviate!’ The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb.”

“Oh Merlin,” Gideon muttered, and Sirius saw James’s shoulders tense. Bloody idiot.

“Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snakeskin, out of the way of great chinks of tunnel ceiling that were thundering to the floor.”

“Absolute idiot!” Lily exclaimed; voice tight with fear.

Fabian and Gideon watched the book, anxiously waiting for a description confirming Ron was safe.

“Next moment, he was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock. … ‘We can’t get through – it’ll take ages …’”

“Harry, you better not …” Lily said, her green eyes narrowed. Sirius glanced at what was remaining of the book in Moody’s hands.

“Harry looked at the tunnel ceiling. … ‘I’ll go on … If I’m not back in an hour …’”

“Oh Merlin,” James breathed. Sirius fought the urge to comfort his friend. Sirius knew there was nothing in this moment he could do, save forcing the old Auror to read faster, to make James feel better.

“There was a pregnant pause. … And he set off alone past the giant snakeskin. … Harry, shaking from head to foot, walked inside.”

Sirius felt ill at the description.

“I’ll read next, Alastor,” McGonagall said, leaving no room for argument. The room was silent, waiting impatiently for the story to continue. McGonagall took the book and turned the page.

“Chapter Seventeen,” she read. “The Heir of Slytherin.”

Chapter Text

James was trying to will McGonagall into reading faster.

His old professor had her face drawn as she raised the book, looking almost as tired as James felt. It was getting harder and harder not to think of these books as the truth, as their future. He wondered, not for the first time, just how exactly the Trelawney sisters had pulled this off. James was no expert in obscure magic, but despite the jokes about his academic record, James was fairly adept at magic. He might never had directed those skills towards things as mundane as term papers (better directed at things such as … oh become an illegal animagi), but even he hadn’t heard of anything like this.

James wondered if this was payback for all the trouble, he had put his own parents through during his school years. He thought he might have owed them an apology. Not that he had been able to bring himself to go by their graves since they’d been buried. James took in a sharp breath and pushed the thought away, focusing on his old Transfiguration professor.

“He was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. … More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, he thought he saw one stir.”

“He should keep his eyes on the ground,” Remus said worriedly. “In case …” but Remus didn’t finish. Still, James could fill in the blanks. In case the Basilisk was in this inner Chamber. James felt nauseous at the thought.

“Then, as he drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. … ‘Ginny!’”

Fabian’s head snapped up at that.

“Is she…” he didn’t finish. Luckily, McGonagall continued reading.

“’Ginny – don’t be dead – please don’t be dead – ‘ … Her face was white as a marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn’t petrified. … Ginny’s head lolled hopelessly from side to side.”

James felt sick at the description. He’d seen more dead bodies than he cared to think about, since graduation. He still remembers his first time, walking into Jones’s house late at night.

James shivered, shaking off the thought.

“’She won’t wake,’ said a soft voice.”

James sucked in a breath. He saw Gideon and Fabian lean forward, the former chewing on his lower lip.

“Harry jumped and spun around on his knees. … ‘Tom – Tom Riddle?’” McGonagall’s voice lifted up as she read, the woman pursing her lips even as she read the words, trailing off toward the end.

James’s mouth popped open, sure he had misheard.

“What – how?” Remus said, sitting forward. James didn’t think he had the breath in his lungs to speak. He glanced over at Lily, seeing her equally pale.

Caradoc was frowning, worry lines making his face look much older than he was.

“Is it some projection?” Emmeline asked tentatively, glancing worriedly at the two Prewett brothers, who still looked shaken from the description of Ginny.

“It could be a security measure he put in place when he was down in the Chamber last?” Benjy asked. Both the Ravenclaws were looking at Caradoc as if he had the answers, but the older man looked at a loss for words.

James knew there were security spells that would trigger apparitions, but this seemed different. Usually those were projections similar to a photograph, or even a muggle television show, when Lily would rewind a part and it would play over and over again. This … this seemed almost sentient, like the diary.

Sickeningly, the closest bit of magic that came to James’s mind was the Map.

“Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry’s face. … ‘She’s still alive,’ said Riddle. ‘But only just.’”

“Godric,” Fabian muttered. His fingers were biting into the wood of the table beneath them.

“He couldn’t – he wouldn’t know who Harry is, right?” Lily asked, worriedly. James felt his stomach turn. Was this … projection or whatever this was somehow related to the diary? James almost hoped so. He didn’t want to think about multiple traces of Voldemort lingering around the castle.

“I don’t understand,” Emmeline started. “Is it sentient?”

“That would be … impossible,” Lily said, sounding a little more like she was wishing it to be true rather than actually believing it.

James glanced around the room, looking for an answer and his eyes finally fell on someone, face pale, staring at the book in more horror than confusion.

“You know,” he accused at Regulus.

The younger boy flickered his eyes up at him, wide. He looked so young in that moment. It was easy to forget that he was still a student, school robes still draped over his thin shoulders. “No,” he denied immediately, and it almost sounded like the truth.

“You suspect,” Sirius said, sitting forward and Regulus frowned, grey eyes darting away.

“I don’t – I’m really not sure,” he said. Regulus exchanged a glance with Pandora. James wanted to press the matter, unwilling to let it go at just that, but McGonagall began reading once more.

“Harry stared at him. … ‘Are you a ghost?’ Harry said uncertainly.” McGonagall pursed her lips, pausing. “‘A memory,’ said Riddle quietly.” She finally read.

“What does that mean?” Lily nearly spat. James looked over, almost surprised at her anger. Her green eyes were flashing, but the more James looked, the more he saw her bottom lip trembling, her fingers clenched tight against his own. She was scared. Frustrated. Tears threatened the corner of her vision.

Dumbledore was frowning. “He does seem … more like the version of Tom from his school days,” the old man said, and James had never heard him sound more uncertain. Something dark swam in Dumbledore’s crystal eyes. James had never seen the man look more … afraid.

“So, he’s a memory?” Marlene said slowly. “How the hell does that work?” she asked.

“It reminds me a little of the magic used for paintings,” Caradoc mused, shaking his head. James considered that. It made a bit of sense. Paintings were sentient a in the sense that you could hold a conversation with one, and they were at least some shadow of what they were in life.

“’Preserved in a diary for fifty years.’ … Lying open there was the little black diary Harry had found in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.”

“Ginny must have brought it there,” Dorcas said sadly. Fabian’s head snapped towards her.

“What are you saying?” he asked harshly. Dorcas looked at him with pleading eyes, not willing to say it. James felt his heart sink for the girl.

“For a second, Harry wondered how it had gotten there - … But his wand was gone.”

James felt a chill run up his spine.

He had a horrible habit of losing track of his own wand and he was just now realizing how terribly dangerous that could be.

“’Did you see - ?’ … ‘It won’t come until it is called.’”

“So, it has been the diary controlling the Basilisk the entire time?” Lily asked, frustrated. James’s mind was spinning. He wanted the book to just come out and explain what was happening. The diary was like a painting, but could manifest without enchanted parchment and could control Slytherin’s monster using Parseltongue?

“Harry lowered Ginny back onto the floor, unable to hold her up any longer. … ‘For a chance to see you. To speak to you.’”

James stiffened. He felt a cold come over him. His hand was numb from how tightly Lily was clutching it. Pin pricks danced on his fingertips.

“He knows,” James said, absolutely certain. Several eyes glanced over at him, but no one disputed his claim.

“How?” Remus asked, voice a bit hard. James was shaking his head.

“Maybe … maybe Ginny told him?” Marlene suggested weakly. James glanced over at his friend. She ran her fingers through her choppy blond hair, unable to meet his eyes. “She had the diary … she might have written in it about Harry …”

Lily’s face distorted in horror.

“’Look,’ said Harry, losing patience, … ‘How did Ginny get like this?’”

“He finally asks,” Moody muttered, and James thought it quite the statement of his self-control that he didn’t snap at his superior.

Lily had no such compunctions.

“Shut it,” she nearly snarled.

“’Well that’s an interesting question,’ … ‘Ginny simply loved me. … It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket …’ Riddle laughed.”

Fabian growled and Gideon’s eyes shuttered closed. The latter took a deep breath as McGonagall continued to read.

“It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry’s neck. … I grew stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. … Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her …’”

Caradoc was frowning at that. “It almost sounds like a siphoning spell,” he theorized. James’s eyebrows pulled together. Siphoning spells were complicated bits of magic, usually connecting right to the magical core of another being. They were difficult and dangerous to make, and usually required a deep connection with an object to work. Could a diary be such an object? James had never heard of something like that and yet …

James didn’t know what made him do it, but his eyes wandered back to Regulus Black. He was deathly pale, staring at the book in McGonagall’s hands with open horror.

“You know something,” James accused again, sitting forward this time.

Regulus’s eyes snapped to him. He looked so much like Sirius. “I don’t,” he said back evenly. And it was a lie, it must have been. It was. James didn’t know if he wanted it to be or not. Was willing it to be. It had to be a lie. But Regulus glanced away again.

“’What d’you mean?’ … ‘She set the serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib’s cat.’”

“Possession,” Edgar muttered. “It sounds like she’s been possessed.” The older man didn’t seem sure, but the explanation made a bit of sense to James at least. Maybe there was a compulsion on the diary. Some spell making her do this every time she wrote in it.

Of course, Harry hadn’t felt a similar effect when he’d used it but perhaps that was because he didn’t use it for as long?

“Like the Imperius curse?” Emmeline asked and Gideon went rigid in his chair. Caradoc was shaking his head. The Imperius curse needed a caster and as real as this diary seemed, surely it wasn’t capable of producing magic on its own.

“It might be a spell of Voldemort’s own creation,” Caradoc said, his voice grave.

“’No,’ Harry whispered. … ‘Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet …’”

James went cold.

“Of course, he would be interested in Harry,” Marlene said bitterly. “He knows that Harry had something to do with his downfall.”

“’And why did you want to meet me?’ … as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!’”

“He sure likes to hear himself talk,” Sirius muttered darkly next to him. James’s best friend was glaring at the book, seeming more angry at it than anything else. James didn’t know if he had the energy in him to be angry at this moment.

“’Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent.”

James stole a glance at his old Headmaster. Dumbledore was watching the book intently. He’d been oddly quiet while they had been theorizing but there was a strange light in his eyes, like he was forcing the pieces of a puzzle only he could see together in front of him. James hated the suspicion that gnawed at his stomach.

“’He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper.’ … ‘I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work.’”

James felt a chill. It sounded … he could barely think it. A legacy preserved in parchment. It sounded eerily similar to their own thoughts. His, Sirius, Peter, and Remus’s surrounding the Marauder’s Map.

For a new generation of pranksters!

James did not like that. He did not like that at all.

“’Well, you haven’t finished it,’ … ‘For many months now, my new target has been – you.’”

“No.” Lily whispered the word like a prayer, as if she could will the writing in the book to change.

“Harry stared at him. … ‘And Ginny told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue …’”

Another thing that made no sense. James had been wracking his brain. Was it possible for Parseltongue to not be inherited? Maybe it was more like Seeing.

“She’s just bait,” Gideon whispered fearfully.

“’So, I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait.’ … ‘Voldemort was after your time …’”

“How dense is he?” Snape muttered.

James nearly hexed the man.

“’Voldemort,’ … I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.”

There was a pause.

“You … have got to be kidding me,” Dorcas muttered. James didn’t know what to think. The idea that this … this was where the name had come from. A name that struck fear throughout Britain. And it had started as something … so juvenile. So much like a child drawing stories in book. To think that Voldemort used to be no more than a student, who walked the same halls he did. Well, James did not like that thought at all.

“’You see?’ … ‘Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!’”

James narrowed his eyes at that. That sounded … far more personal.

“’He’s not as gone as you might think!’ … A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling.”

James’s heart stuttered.

“Fawkes?” Lily asked, eyes wide.

James thought back to the cover of the book he’d seen earlier that day. Harry, a sword, and a red bird.

“It had a glittering golden tail as long as peacock’s and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle. … ‘that’s the old school sorting hat – ‘”

James frowned. He was sure he had seen a sword at Harry’s hip on the cover.

“So it was. … ‘Do you feel safe now?’”

Lily seethed next to him.

“Harry didn’t answer. … ‘The longer you talk,’ he added softly, ‘the longer you stay alive.’”

Moody leaned forward at this, obviously still interested in how Voldemort disappeared. None of this was quite making sense. He felt like they were missing something, some connective thread that tied everything they knew together.

“Harry was thinking fast, weighing his chances. … Riddle’s outline was becoming clearer, more solid …’”

Gideon frowned. “Is he … manifesting?”

“It is clearly siphoning from Ginny,” Benjy said lowly, like he was hoping that the twins wouldn’t actually hear him. Gideon’s face paled and Fabian stared hard at the book.

“If it had to be a fight between him and Riddle, better sooner than later. … ‘But I know why you couldn’t kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My common Muggle-born mother.’”

Lily smiled wanly at that.

“’She stopped you killing me.’ … ‘Yes, that’s a powerful counter-charm. I can see now … there is nothing special about you, after all.’”

James almost desperately hoped for that to be true.

“’I wondered, you see.’ … And something was stirring inside the statue’s mouth.”

“The Basilisk,” Remus whispered in horror.

“Harry backed away until he hit the dark Chamber wall, and as he shut his eyes tight, he felt Fawkes’ wing sweep his cheek as he took flight.”

“Smart,” Remus muttered.

“Harry wanted to shout, ‘Don’t leave me!’ … ‘Kill him.’”

“This is … this is mad,” Sirius whispered.

“The basilisk was moving toward Harry; … he opened his eyes wide enough to squint at what was going on.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Lily chanted the word quietly under her breath. James wished he had some way to ease her worry, ease her fears. But her fears were his own, and all he felt capable of doing if he spoke was making them worse. He gripped her hand tightly.

James had fought a lot of things in his day, but he’d never had to do it blind.

“The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between pillars. … Fawkes dived. … ‘Help me, help me,’ Harry muttered wildly, ‘someone – anyone – ‘”

James choked back a broken noise.

“The snake’s tail whipped across the floor again. … A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the hat, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs.”

“The sword of Gryffindor,” Dumbledore said. It was the first time he spoke in a while. There was a strange light in his eyes. “It would only appear during an act of great bravery.”

James was torn between being proud and horrified.

“’KILL THE BOY!’ … The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true – Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent’s mouth – “

There were a few relieved cheers around the room. James could almost let himself believe it was over. Then, McGonagall kept reading.

“But as warm blood drenched Harry’s arms, he felt a searing pain just above his elbow.”

“No,” Lily croaked. “Please, no.” She folded over on herself, arm wrapped around her middle. Her eyes filled with tears and James’s own vision went blurry.

“It’s – it’s okay,” Remus said, his shaky voice steadying. “Fawkes – phoenix tears. He needs to find Fawkes.”

It almost sounded like gibberish to James, his brain stuck in lubvig juice. Lily seemed to catch on quicker.

“You – yes. Fawkes will help him,” she said.

“One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm … Harry slid down the wall. … ‘You’re dead Harry Potter.’”

Fawkes was clearly working on curing Harry, but James couldn’t help being impatient.

“’Dead.’ … Even the pain was leaving him …”

“It’s working,” Marlene said roughly. “It must be.”

James didn’t want to relax until Harry was out of the damn Chamber.

“But was this dying? … He raised his wand - … Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.”

“Basilisk venom should be able to destroy any curse – even a siphoning curse,” Caradoc said reassuringly. James tried to let the older man’s words wash over him, but something still stung at his heart. James glanced again at the front of the room.

Again, Regulus Black looked pale, staring at the book.

“You know something,” James repeated again, drawing attention back to the boy. This time, Regulus hesitated, not immediately denying it. James’s heart leapt. “You do,” he breathed. He hadn’t actually been sure, when he’d first accused. But now …

“I – I’m not,” Regulus struggled to speak once again. James had never heard the boy so inarticulate. James’s eyes were wild, desperate almost.

“James,” the soft voice of Dumbledore sliced the tension in the room. “Perhaps we should address this at another time,” he said. Regulus’s wide blown eyes flew to the Headmaster and the pair shared some look James wasn’t privy too. Then, “Professor McGonagall?” Dumbledore prompted.

“There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. … He had gone.”

James felt like he could collapse.

“Harry’s wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. … Ginny was stirring.”

“Thank Rowena,” Gideon breathed.

“As Harry hurried toward her, she sat up. … ‘How come you’ve got a sword?’”

James let out a throaty laugh at Ron’s questions. He felt delirious with relief.

“’I’ll explain when we get out of here.’ … ‘He’s a danger to himself.’”

“He always was,” Benjy muttered darkly. James had nearly forgotten about Lockhart. He didn’t particularly care what happened to the Defense teacher, but James supposed that getting the man out and possibly in the hands of some Healers was the best thing to do. Preferably, Aurors could be called given he’d attempted to obliviate two twelve year olds at the start of all this. James hadn’t forgotten.

“Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at them all. … Harry knocked and pushed the door open.”

James breathed as Harry finally was with a teacher. Or well, a competent teacher, he amended, nearly forgetting about Lockhart again.

“It looks like there is only one more chapter,” McGonagall said. “Then we’ll take a break before the next book.”

“I’ll read,” Caradoc offered, taking the book from the transfiguration professor.

“Chapter Eighteen. Dobby’s Reward.”

Chapter Text

Dorcas leaned back on the bar, half a pint of butterbeer sitting beside her, long forgotten and soon to be cleared by Aberforth, who had remained stoically silent during the readings. The room largely still seemed to be processing the last chapter. Lily had a distant, unfocused look to her eyes, and James had taken to rubbing small circles on the back of her hand, looking exhausted, as if he had been right beside Harry during the whole fight. The twins, Gideon and Fabian were leaned back in their seat, tension still clinging tight to their bodies, despite the assurances that Ginny, and Ron, seemed to be out of immediate danger. Though with the pattern being created in these books, Dorcas was not sure how long that would last.

The rest of the room appeared to be taking in what they learned, the events that occurred in the chamber almost incomprehensible. The ghost or projection of young Voldemort almost willing himself back into existence. It all just felt so hopeless. Even if the managed to kill the man, it was like they were unable to vanquish him from the world. Like no matter what they did, he would always exist in some form.

Dorcas allowed herself a deep breath from the previous chapter. She had to believe that these books would give them some insight into the fight. That’s what they were here for, was it not? Why the Trelawney’s had called them all? Everything could be killed. They would find a way.

“For a moment,” Caradoc begin. “There was silence as Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in much and slime and (in Harry’ case) blood.”

Dorcas offered a weak smile. “Bet it was just like old times, eh, Professor?” Dorcas asked.

McGonagall shot her a stern but appreciative look. The older woman was clearly shaken by what they had read, it seemed everyone was, though some certainly more than others. Lily and James were still pale, gripping each other’s hands tightly. Gideon and Fabian looked mostly recovered now that Ginny was confirmed to be okay. And curiously, Regulus Black has been ghostly white since the last chapter. There were a few whispered exchanges with Pandora, but from the irritation on the younger girl’s face, Dorcas suspected she got a similar answer that James had in the previous chapter.

“Then there was a scream. … Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantlepiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest.”

Dorcas shot a strange look at their Headmaster. He was not smiling now. In fact, Dumbledore’s crystal eyes were distant, and when they did focus on something, they focused in the most peculiar of places. On Regulus’s Black’s hunched form.

Dorcas felt a strange surge of protection toward the younger boy that she did not know what to do with.

“Fawkes went whooshing past Harry’s ear and settled on Dumbledore’s shoulder, just as Harry found himself and Ron being swept into Mrs. Weasley’s tight embrace.”

Lily smiled sadly at the scene being described.

“’You saved her!’ … ‘What interests me most,’ said Dumbledore, who smiled gently, ‘is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania.”

“Albania?” Alastor Moody leaned forward with interest. Caradoc frowned.

“That’s a rather odd place for him to be,” the older man said. “I know there are a number of Dark Forests in the area, as well as some secluded wizarding communities but …” Caradoc trailed off, seeming to have offered all he could about the significance of Albania.

Meanwhile, Fabian shot the Headmaster a grateful look for covering for Ginny. It was clear it wasn’t the girl’s fault, but that hadn’t mattered the last time the Chamber had been opened. Dorcas felt a bit of relief that the young girl wouldn’t be blamed for anything that happened.

At the same time, Marlene was frowning at their old Headmaster. “Enchant Ginny?” she asked. “I mean, are we sure that is what happened?” she asked hesitantly.

“Enchanting makes sense,” Edgar supplied warily. “Some derivative of the Imperius curse and a siphon. Powerful magic. The diary’s magic would be similar to a Quick-Quill or a painting enchantment.”

As Edgar finished, Regulus shot a look at Dumbledore that Dorcas did not miss. The pair locked eyes.

Finally, Caradoc kept reading.

“Relief – warm, sweeping, glorious relief – swept over Harry. … ‘Brilliant,’ he said softly.”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow at that. Dumbledore had turned away from Regulus Black, but the younger boy now shot him a disgusted look at the remark.

Sure, the magic was impressive. But brilliant?

“’Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen.’ … He disappeared after leaving school … traveled far and wide … sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable.”

“But people did recognize him,” Emmeline insisted with a frown. “His old school friends for one.”

Dorcas and a few others nodded slowly at this.

“’Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.’ … ‘Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.’”

“Good advice,” Moody ruffed.

“’Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother?’ … ‘There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny,’ said Dumbledore.”

Dorcas almost snorted. Sure, physically, that might have been true. It was probably the best thing to say to comfort the girl, but Dorcas couldn’t imagine the trauma she endured. To have Voldemort inside her head for a whole year. At eleven.

Dorcas’s shoulders drooped. It all seemed so pointless, all this fighting, all the bloodshed and death, and still, a decade and a half later, children were still traumatized by the horrors of this war.

As soon as Dorcas had heard about the Order, she had known she wanted to join it. She had told McGonagall, in what she knew now was a screening interview, that it was because of her parents. They had fought for years for rights in the Muggle world. They participated in the Bristol Bus Boycott. They’d spread Black Dimension magazines around their neighborhood. They watched Darcus Howe speak at the Mangrove demo. It was in her blood; she’d told their transfiguration professor.

She’d told Dumbledore it was for herself. For what she’d seen and experienced in Slytherin. Her classmates learning to cover their arms by seventh year. Even more classmates disappearing and never coming back. Every house lost students. Whether they were lucky enough to flee the country, to the continent or even all the way to America, or if they simply vanished from one day to the next. Leaving everyone to wonder. To hope for a miracle but prepare for the reality. But Slytherin house? Dorcas has graduated with just three other students in her year with her. That was all that was left.

“Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, … Surely – surely – they weren’t about be punished.”

“Professor,” James started, sounded exasperated. McGonagall raised an eyebrow pointedly but didn’t say anything.

Dorcas bit her tongue. In theory, they could have gone to McGonagall still, before leaping down a hidden passage into the lair of a monster. But Dorcas was quite sure that punishment wasn’t what was about to happen, and she suppressed a smile.

“’I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules.’ … ‘I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor.’”

Dorcas rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Sure, that will incentivize them not to break the law in the future,” she joked.

It startled a laugh out of Lily, which Dorcas felt a flair of pride out, but she could tell her voice was still strained with worry at the thought. This was, of course, only the second book out of seven.

“Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart’s valentine flowers and closed his mouth again. … ‘Goodness, I expect I was hopeless, wasn’t I?’”

Marlene snorted out a laugh. “Well at least he can’t be the Defense teacher anymore,” she said. “Not that he was any more competent before the … accident.”

“’He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired.’”

“Hopefully he’ll get what he deserves now,” Benjy muttered darkly, eyes narrowed at the book in Caradoc’s hands.

“’Dear me,’ … ‘First of all, Harry, I want to thank you,’”

“Thank him?” Lily repeated, her green eyes flashed toward Dumbledore. “What on earth would you be thanking him for!”

The old man didn’t make any movement to answer and Caradoc continued.

“’You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber.’ … ‘The Sorting Hat told me I’d – I’d have done well in Slytherin.”

Dorcas heart sank.

“’Everyone thought I was Slytherin’s heir for a while…’ … ‘You can speak Parseltongue, Harry,’ said Dumbledore calmly, ‘because Lord Voldemort – who is the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin – can speak Parseltongue. Unless I’m much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar.” Caradoc’s voice turned up toward the end of the reading and the man frowned, giving a pause.

“What?” Emmeline asked, glancing over at the present version of the speaker, who had been very quiet during the chapter so far. Dumbledore’s face was masked in pleasant curiosity, but Dorcas thought she saw something darker flicker there. She had the sickened feeling that while Dumbledore might have as many answers as the rest of them, he was hoarding plenty of guesses as to what his future self meant.

“How is that possible?” Remus asked, his face twisted in worry. He was glancing at James and Lily who looked pale. Caradoc shook his head, lowering the book.

“A cursed scar could give someone something like this, but I’ve never heard of that before for Parseltongue,” he said, and Dorcas raised an eyebrow. That sounded plausible. Cursed scars could give you a number of nasty curses, but they could also be imbued with some magic. Though why Parseltongue would be the ability imparted on a young Harry, Dorcas had no idea. Perhaps Voldemort was speaking in Parseltongue when he was there that night?

“’Not something he intended to do, I’m sure …’ ‘Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?’”

“That’s – no.” The voice cut through the quiet of the bar and Dorcas’s head snapped over to the speaker. Regulus stared at Dumbledore, like he was trying to silently communicate with the other man.

“What does that mean?” James asked, leaning forward desperately. He clearly hadn’t forgotten the last chapter.

“’It certainly seems so.’”

“You can’t mean …” Regulus trailed off. He gave Dumbledore a horrified look.

Dorcas had no idea what Regulus meant, but something seemed to alight in Dumbledore’s eyes, and he regarded the younger boy with a new look.

James growled in frustration, smacking his hand down on the table in front of him. “Hello? Care to share?” Regulus jumped in his seat, eyes blowing wide and staring at the other man, looking for all the world caught out. Dumbledore turned to James more slowly, crystal eyes as calm as ever.

“Theories, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said, and James straightened at the use of his surname, something Dumbledore hadn’t really done since their school days. “Nothing more than guesses. And not worth sharing until we know more.” The Headmaster spoke with finality on the subject.

Regulus shrunk back in his seat, but James fell back in his chair. Hard. His arms crossed tight across his chest. Caradoc took his cue and began reading once more.

“’So, I should be in Slytherin.’ … ‘His own rare gift, Parseltongue – resourcefulness – determination – a certain disregard for rules.’”

Dorcas was more than a little surprised at the qualities Dumbledore chose to highlight as belonging to Slytherins. She had always gotten the feeling the Headmaster didn’t like her house very much. Being a Gryffindor, she figured it was simply because of the old rivalry between the houses. But now, as she understood Dumbledore’s past with Voldemort, she was beginning to suspect that was more complicated.

“’Yet, the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor.’ … ‘We’ll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher …’”

Emmeline snorted. “Hard to imagine you could do worse than the last two.”

Sirius groaned, the bar seeming to lighten in mood as the conversation in the book dragged on. “Oh, don’t jinx it. Next year they’ll be taught by an idiot.”

“’Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don’t we?’ … ‘Good evening Lucius.’”

And just like that, as soon as Dorcas was starting to relax, thinking the book was almost done, Lucius Malfoy showed up. She went tense.

“Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room. …’Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn’t agree to suspend me in the first place.’”

Marlene was seething. “I don’t understand how that weasel keeps escaping any punishment!”

“Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were slits of fury. … The elf was doing something very odd. … he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard of the head with his fist.”

Dorcas frowned. Surely Harry had put together that it was Malfoy’s plot, and who Dobby’s master was. Truthfully, the reality of House Elves had been a rather disturbing revelation for Dorcas while reading the book. She was ashamed to admit that she hadn’t thought much about the magical creatures prior to this reading. She’d heard them mentioned by her housemates, but as a muggleborn, Dorcas didn’t pay much attention to the innerworkings of wizard households.

But House Elves were … essentially slaves, something that sat uneasy at the pit of her stomach. She’d thought of how wonderous the wizarding world had seemed at eleven. Floating across the Black Lake, walking through the vast hallways, the moving stairs, the suspended candles. Pictures that talked and moved through the walls. Ghosts that joked and drank and taught class. She compared it to what she knew now: war and blood and slavery and death. She felt strangely … betrayed. As if she had been sold something and came home to find that it was broken. No one had ever promised the wizarding world was free from the same strife as the muggle one, but she was overwhelmed with this vicious desire that it should be.

“’I see …’ … ‘Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise…’”

“Slimy snake!” Sirius ranted.

“Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak. … ‘Because you gave it to her,’ said Harry. ‘In Flourish and Blotts.’”

Dorcas sucked in a breath, eyed widening.

“Oh, be careful,” Lily breathed. But next to her, James’s eyes were bright with pride, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“’You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside, didn’t you?’ … ‘Oh no one will be able to do that.’”

Dorcas breathed a sigh of relief. It was clear that Dumbledore was trying to keep Lucius’s attention off Harry.

“’Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book.’ … ‘Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?’”

Dorcas frowned, unsure of what exactly Harry was thinking.

“’Certainly, Harry,’ said Dumbledore calmly. … ‘You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter.’” Caradoc’s voice hardened with anger as he read, and Dorcas’s teeth ground together.

She glanced over toward her friends, seething in quiet anger. Lily’s face reddened at Caradoc continued,

“’They were meddlesome fools too.’”

“The highest of compliments,” Sirius growled.

“He turned to go. … ‘Master has given a sock,’ … ‘Master gave it to Dobby.’”

Dorcas’s mouth popped open in surprise, the corners of her mouth pulling up. Something deep in her chest cracked.

“No way,” Marlene said, wild grin on her own face.

“’What’s that?’ … ‘You shall not harm Harry Potter!’ There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward.”

There were scattered cheers, Sirius grinning like Christmas had come early. Marlene threw her head back and laughed, squeezing Dorcas’s arm.

“He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. … ‘Just promise never to try and save my life again.’”

James let out a strangled laugh.

“The elf’s ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile. … ‘Percy’s got a girlfriend.’”

Gideon burst into a sudden laugh, sounding more than a little delirious. Dorcas shook her head, truly not expecting that revelation at all.

“Fred dropped a stack of books on George’s head. … And together they walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world.” And with that, Caradoc shut the book, glancing up.

At the front of the room, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Perhaps a short break, and then we can begin the next book before turning in for the night,” the older man said. Perhaps it was the two days trapped in a small room with Dumbledore, but Dorcas thought that she was getting better at reading the old man. Tension pulled from behind his spectacles.

The room seemed to collapse at the chance for a break, a few groups turning in on each other, either leaned close and discussing the previous chapters, or sitting back, desperate to change the subject from the dull future these books were painting.

Marlene turned to Aberforth behind the bar, trying to wrangle another drink. “One more for last call?” Dorcas’s girlfriend was asking.

Dorcas was watching Dumbledore, however. And he was making his way out of his chair and to the other side of the room. She wasn’t the only one watching, either.

“Abe? Aberforth?”

“Mr. Black,” Dumbledore spoke quietly, discretely, but even so, two heads startled toward him. Sirius’s eyes bore into the side of his brother’s head. “Regulus,” Dumbledore clarified after a moment. “Would you mind if we had a word.”

Dorcas thought for sure the younger boy would refuse, but in spite to everything Dorcas knew of the boy, he bowed his head and followed Dumbledore into the back end of the bar. When Dorcas glanced over, Sirius’s dark eyes were tracking the pair, worry on his expression.

Chapter Text

Aberforth Dumbledore was not his brother.

The Hog’s Head was uncomfortably filled, as it had been for the past two days. The usual dank air was stuffy, and Aberforth hadn’t had a good moment since this charade had begun to sweep the floors or scrub down the counters, relying only on cleaning spells in the wake of this crowd. When Albus had first approached his brother about hosting meetings for the Order of the Phoenix, Albus’s demented band of vigilantes, he’d promised Aberforth that the meetings would be only once per month.

Albus promised a lot of things.

Aberforth had never been accused of being patient but the past two days, he’d been waiting. Watching. Listening. Aberforth was no reader, not since his school days, which were far enough in the past it did him no good to claim them now. When the Trelawney girl had pulled what looked like a children’s book from her bag, and claimed it to be of the future, he’d thought that the story was just the right amount of crack-pot insanity that would intrigue his brother. Of course, Albus was all for it.

Then, of course, came the Death Eaters. The sisters had insisted on their presence. The confirmed one, the Snape boy, had been easy enough to accept. He’d been in Aberforth’s bar from the outset, snuck in the back and feigning sleep, spying of Albus, more likely than not. His presence was easily explained in just the first few chapters that first day, somehow spinning his way under the tutelage of Aberforth’s brother, sitting at his right hand in the castle some twenty years in the future. Just the sort of risky hair-brained scheme Albus would set up.

The boy was another matter altogether. Aberforth had been wary when the faces of the Order, once familiar – veterans of a prior war – had suddenly gotten younger, fresher, less charred from the past. Aberforth wasn’t naïve, he understood why it was necessary, and even why it was inevitable. This was their world after all, perhaps even more so than their elders. The world that they were working to shape, of course they would want a say in the war currently plaguing it. But there was something about handing children a diploma with one hand and a sword with the other that would never sit right with Aberforth.

Of course, Aberforth wasn’t his brother.

Still, Albus had never recruited students before. He’d at least had the decency to wait for them to be erroneously considered adults by the rest of wizarding Britain before they were brought into crux of this blasted war.

Regulus Black was a child. Just seventeen and wearing his damn school robes each day because he was shunted up in one of Aberforth’s spare rooms as if he were running a prison rather than an ale house. His prefect badge was pinned to his chest, as if at any moment the boy might be asked to patrol the halls. His sleeves were carefully pinned down. Covering his forearms, a sickening reminder of this war that needed soldiers.

The boy had been acting strange during the readings up to that point. Of course, most of the room didn’t seem to be taking the readings very well. The McKinnon girl was trying to keep it light, but there something dark in her eyes every time she badgered Aberforth for a drink and finished it before most others in the room had taken more than two sips. Perhaps, if Aberforth were a better man, he would stop the flow of alcohol.

No one has ever accused Aberforth of being a good man.

The dark-skinned girl next to her was bottling her rage as if it were something to be fermented. The couple in the back were alight with nervous energy. The twins in the middle were growing distant. And Aberforth didn’t even deign to mention the group of friends fraying before his eyes, and at the center of it, the pair whose deaths that kick started this whole thing.

The boy’s presence had been unclear to Aberforth at the start. He didn’t hold it against himself though, he was fairly sure the boy’s presence was unclear to even his brother, all his schemes and machinations be damned. He was still unsure if the Trelawney girl had known exactly why he was here, though she insisted he be called from the castle. The only person who did not seem to question his presence at the start was the boy himself. A knowing look exchanged with the Lovegood girl. Biting words for his fellow Death Eater. A sucker punch none of them saw coming. A muttered apology.

Aberforth should have realized then, what was happening. He was fairly sure, looking back, that it was when his brother had realized it. Perhaps it was when the boy had realized it too. There was nothing that Albus chased more doggedly than something that he didn’t understand.

And Aberforth saw it again in his brother’s eyes now.

There was something that Regulus Black knew that Albus didn’t. Aberforth watched as the boy followed Albus into the backroom of the Hog’s Head.

The last time Albus chased the unknown, a person had ended up dead.

Aberforth followed his brother.

Aberforth was not a member of the Order. He was more than happy to offer a secure space to meet once per month, a feeling of shelter and safety, but he would never be fighter. He didn’t have it in him, he supposed. Maybe that was something the Hat saw, when it peered into Aberforth’s mind when he was just a boy, or maybe it was something Aberforth learned, grew into, as he had his beard and robes. He was content to listen, to sit back, to be the grass his brother hid in as he stalked the savannah.

He caught the whiff of a conversation before he walked in.

“Theories, of course. But you know the truth.”

“I – It’s complicated – “

Aberforth pushed open the door to the back of the bar, not caring much about making an entrance, not sure if he was thinking fully before he acted. The door smacked all the way against the wall as he walked in, making both the boy and Albus jump, two pairs of eyes shooting to him almost immediately.

The boy’s vision was unfocused, cast down to the floor as if he were intentionally avoiding eye contact. It took Aberforth an embarrassingly long time to understand why. The boy’s gaze was clouded, unfocused, occlumency shields pulled tight. The door swung shut behind him.

Aberforth frowned at the boy, skittish in front of him. He thought he could see the thrumming of the boy’s heart in his chest, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Worry pulled his young face tight.

Albus sighed. “Aberforth,” he said patiently. Aberforth raised an eyebrow.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Aberforth said, voice sharp, startling clarity back into the boy’s eyes. He glanced nervously between the two of them.

Albus narrowed his eyes at his brother. “You were, in fact,” his brother said, pleasant as ever.

Aberforth shrugged. “Perhaps then, you two can continue this another time,” he continued. Aberforth stood to the side, turning his body to show the boy a path to the door. The boy glanced back at his brother, a nervousness in his expression enough to confirm to Aberforth that perhaps this conversation wasn’t entirely unwanted on the boy’s part. But it did not matter. Aberforth waited a moment, and then another and the boy’s head dropped, and he scrambled out the door.

Albus sighed. “Is this important, Aberforth? Because I have – “

“Things you must be doing, yes,” Aberforth bit out, not letting his brother finish. Albus blinked at Aberforth’s blunt tone, and his crystal eyes scanned his brother, as if only now taking in his anger. “The only question I have for you is what are you doing, Albus?”

“Pardon?” Albus asked, frowning in genuine confusion at the question. The expression did nothing to satiate Aberforth’s anger.

“What are you playing at, Albus?” he asked again, just as sharp.

Albus frowned. “You were there when Ms. Trelawney and Ms. Lovegood explained,” his brother explained slowly, like he feared Aberforth might have been losing his mind. Aberforth was there, of course. And he’d thought it was a terrible idea the second the witch had opened her mouth.

“Not that,” Aberforth shook his head. “With the boy,” he said, gesturing to the door. Albus frowned again. Aberforth was starting to hate that expression on his brother’s face.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Albus shook his head.

Aberforth slammed his hand down on the side wall. “You do!” he shouted and Albus moved back, only a fraction of an inch, but it was a movement they both caught.

Aberforth’s eyes focused on his brother’s glasses, slipping slightly down his thrice broken nose. Aberforth had been responsible for two of those breaks. Once, just before. Before everything had gone wrong. The second time, years later, when Albus insisted on toiling despite the rest of the wizarding world’s begging. Sometimes Aberforth wondered about the third break, sometime in between the two he did, but he never asked. Then, he’d have to confront the fact that he might share something in common with the man who killed his sister. The man who took both his siblings in just one summer.

Aberforth shook off the thoughts. He continued, in a much more controlled tone, “you do, though, Albus. You do.”

Albus’s lips pulled tight. “The boy knows something about the war, Aberforth. I know you see it too.” Merlin, most of the bar could see it, Aberforth thought. But he let his brother continue. “It’s important,” he insisted.

Aberforth snorted. “Well of course it is,” he snapped back. “Isn’t that why you gathered this whole circus?”

His brother didn’t seem to be listening to him. “He doesn’t want to tell me what it is.”

Aberforth shook his head. “Of course, he doesn’t,” he groused. “He doesn’t trust you. He’s not one of your little acolytes. Not like the other one apparently becomes,” he can’t help but add.

“It’s something to do with Tom’s death. The diary changed something for him, didn’t you see? I have theories, of course,” Albus began to pace. Aberforth rolled his eyes.

“Of course, you do. A dozen and one ways to cheat death. The Albus Dumbledore special.”

“Dark magic of course. And could it be tied to the Basilisk?” His brother continued to pace.

“What was it you were telling those kids in there? The books will confirm it for us in their own time?” he asked. “I seems future-you has figured it out,” Aberforth grumbled.

Albus waved him off. “I don’t know in the future either,” he said matter of fact.

Aberforth frowned. Aberforth knew his brother well. In fact, Albus was perhaps the person whom he knew best in the world. The first person he’d ever met, the longest person he’ll ever know. Yet, at that moment, Aberforth felt fooled by his brother. It was not a feeling he’d ever meant to feel again.

“In the book, you said he transferred his power to the boy. What did you mean by that?” he asked, tone sharp with suspicion. Albus glanced up at this brother.

“It is possible – “ he started but Aberforth shook his head.

“I’m not talking about the possible, I’m talking about what will happen,” he cut off, voice raised, advancing now. This time, Albus stood his ground.

“I don’t know what will happen!” Albus said, his voice rare in its tone.

Aberforth was not his brother. He was not quiet, nor patient, nor calm. He slammed his fist against the wall. “You act as if you do though!”

Aberforth took a breath. “You act as if you have the answers and so they look to you for them rather than looking for themselves.” Albus’s crystal clear eyes seemed to study his brother’s face but for the life of him, Aberforth had no idea what his brother was thinking. Albus finally sighed, seeming to shrink in his form.

“I am tired, Aberforth,” he finally said.

Then stop! Aberforth thought angrily, but he bit his tongue. He looked at the lines on his brothers face, ancient as the mountains and valleys carved into the countryside. White hair long and grown, with no trace of color. His brother looked old. And Aberforth was forced to swallow the fact that he was. That they both were.

Year and years, they’d toiled like this, Albus Dumbledore and the unnamed barkeep, such were the roles set out for them all those decades back. There was this thing there, in between them, always present, even if Albus would rather not acknowledge it. He saw it slip from his brother’s face in that moment, blue eyes raw, and skin sallow. It was up to Aberforth, as it always was, to drag it back out. The chilled air of a ghost pushing them apart.

He saw the moment his brother remembered it. The presence of it almost a comfort after all this time. Of course, there was no statute of limitations on grudges.

“Yes, well, I expect we’ll read only a few more chapters before the end of the night,” Aberforth said stiffly, intentionally misunderstanding the confession. Albus smiled softly, his clear eyes trying to twinkle.

“Yes. I suppose we’ve taken enough of a break,” his brother said, turning to head back into the bar.

“We best get back to it,” Albus said, reaching for the door.

Aberforth sighed. He didn’t have it in him any more to regret how the conversation went. Perhaps that made him cruel. Perhaps that just made him tired.

Then again, he wasn’t his brother.

“Of course,” Aberforth said, and followed Albus back through the door.

Chapter Text

Sirius Black was watching the door his brother walked through like a hound stalking prey.

His muscles were pulled tight, and he didn’t dare move. Around him, he was vaguely aware that James and Lily had decided to go for a short walk to clear their heads after the previous book and that Remus had promised James, he’d keep an eye on Sirius, whatever that meant. Peter had been engaged in conversation with Emmeline so there was a nervous buzz somewhere nearby. But Sirius was watching the door.

A minute after Aberforth had walked through, it popped open again and Sirius was moving before he could even think.

“What the – ow – Sirius,” Regulus hissed as Sirius grabbed his brother by the arm, dragged him out the back door and into the alley the two had spoken in only earlier that day.

Sirius was a little surprised it worked. He’d half expected Regulus to wrench his arm from Sirius’s grip the moment he was pulled, but the younger boy didn’t do that. He was strangely pliant as he allowed himself to get pulled out the door, only yanking himself free once the door had swung shut behind them and they were firmly outside.

“Really? What happened to ‘hey, hello, how are you?’” Regulus grumbled, sounding comically like a miffed teen.

Sirius spun on him, eyes searching. “What happened? Are you okay?” Sirius snapped quickly, scanning Regulus’s form. He was skinny, but Regulus always was. When the younger boy had walked into the Hog’s Head the other day, he’d looked worn down and sallow. Something Sirius was trying to pretend was from the younger boy’s studies. But as they read these books, as Regulus seemed to grow paler and thinner before Sirius’s very eyes, that was getting harder and harder to convince himself of.

Regulus’s silver eyes widened at the question, mouth popping open like a fish. The question seemed to take him completely off guard and Sirius took the moment of vulnerability to examine his brother once again.

Childhood had fallen off of Regulus’s face. His cheeks had narrowed with age and he grown at least a few inches since Sirius had last seen him in person, making his younger brother almost a real threat to Sirius’s height now. Of course, Sirius had said in person because the last time he had seen his younger brother, the world was stripped of color and his keen dog senses were good for many things but estimating height at a distance had not been one of them.

Plus, Regulus hadn’t exactly been standing tall, the day of their father’s funeral. Sirius supposed that perhaps that was normal, to grieve one’s father when he passed. Sirius wasn’t sure exactly what he’d felt when he’d read the news that Orion Black had died, but it certainly was not grief. At least not grief for his father.

“I’m fine,” Regulus stated, and Sirius reached out and punched his shoulder. Hard.

“Ow – “Regulus glared at him, something finally stirring in his grey eyes. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I’ve heard you say that so many times over the years it doesn’t even sound like real words coming out of your mouth,” Sirius snapped, and he realized, with some jolt of surprise, that he was angry.

Regulus seemed to realize this too, and he was suddenly glaring back at his brother.

“Okay,” Regulus started slowly, words clipped. “I’m pissed about being manhandled. Was there something you needed, Sirius?”

“What did Dumbledore want with you?” Sirius asked, voice cold. Sirius couldn’t seem to make his questions sound anything but hard and angry, thinking back to how the older wizard had pulled Regulus from the room.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?” his younger brother retorted, folding his arms across his chest, looking a bit like he was hugging himself. Fire pulsed in Sirius’s chest.

“Because I’m asking you,” Sirius snapped, and Regulus seemed to startle again at Sirius anger before his expression turned stony.

Regulus was glaring at him. “I’m sure he’ll get his answers soon enough so why don’t you just leave me alone!” Regulus hissed, taking a step back and balling his hands into fists. Sirius’s eyes flicked over to them and for the first time, he realized Regulus was shaking.

Sirius stared at his brother’s fists. A small boy with white knuckles hiding behind him, hands clenched onto Sirius’s clothes. It took an embarrassingly long time for Sirius to make the connection that Regulus thought Sirius was mad at him.

That Regulus might be scared of him.

Energy drained from Sirius’s body in a breath and Sirius’s eyes flickered closed.

“Regulus, are you alright? Did Dumbledore … say anything to you?” Sirius asked and his eyes flicked to Regulus arm. Does he know? Sirius wanted to ask. We both know why I’m here, Sirius, and it’s not to do with being Quidditch captain. Regulus’s words echoed in Sirius’s head. Part of him thought holding out hope that Dumbledore might not know was, at this point, foolishly optimistic. But there was a difference between being affiliated and being Marked. Most of the Order wouldn’t believe that a student had gotten so entangled, couldn’t imagine Voldemort’s reach going so far. Unfortunately, Sirius knew better. And, Sirius suspected, so did Dumbledore.

Regulus had always been careful. But these last two days … well careful would not be the word Sirius would use to describe Regulus’s behavior. His younger brother was acting like … Sirius didn’t even know. No. That’s not quite true. Sirius did know, he just didn’t want to put a name to it.

Regulus furrowed his eyebrows, studying his brother. Sirius tried not to squirm. Most days, it was James that Sirius would claim knew him best in the world, and most days that was true. But there was something about the intense silver gaze of his brother that Sirius knew parts of him would never be able to hide from.

Regulus’s eyes dropped, suddenly seeming much smaller in front of him. “No,” Regulus said quietly. “Are we done?”

Sirius wanted scream but he bit down hard on his tongue. “Regulus,” he said and then tried again, his voice sounding too sharp. “Reg,” and Regulus stiffened at the name. “You have to tell me what’s going on with you.”

To Sirius, it sounded like begging. And maybe it was. Sirius had seen Regulus in at the funeral in April. He’d seen him at Hogwarts at sixteen. Regulus was working his bottom lip between his teeth now, gaze distant and off to the side, watching something Sirius couldn’t see.

“I – Sirius,” and when Regulus turned back to look at him, Sirius’s breath caught. He was eleven and home for Yule. He was thirteen standing over a shattered broom. He was sixteen and promising his brother he’d soothe things over and be right back. Regulus looked scared. And it didn’t matter how much time had passed. It made Sirius’s heart stop in his chest. “I can’t tell you,” his brother whispered.

Sirius hissed in frustration. “Regulus, please. I can help. We can help – “but Regulus was already shaking his head.

“Sirius – Merlin – I shouldn’t have – “ Regulus cut himself off with a deep breath. “Sirius I – I can’t tell you right now, I don’t know – I don’t know. I need to think.” Regulus’s breaths were coming out quicker and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could block out what was happening around him by simply pretending it wasn’t there.

“Maybe thinking’s the problem!” Sirius threw his arms up, trying to keep his voice somewhat level. He was not exactly successful. His brother was never one to act without thinking about the consequences. It was something that frustrated Sirius on the best of days, and this certainly wasn’t one of those.

Regulus flinched. He was shaking his head. “I can’t – “Regulus started. Of all the things Regulus had opened his mouth about since these readings began, his brother’s lips were firmly pressed shut now.

“That hasn’t seemed to stop you before now,” Sirius pressed, his mind still whirling to make it all make sense. Regulus sitting quietly in his school uniform while exams passed without him. Regulus reassuring Lily. Regulus being glib with information.

Regulus had always cared about school. He’d never questioned their parents’ beliefs. He would never volunteer information. Especially not a secret. Especially not to the enemy.

Afterall, he’s not you, a voice in his head thought viciously.

Regulus shook his head. “Just not right now, Sirius.” Regulus said and his eyes met his brother’s. “Please.”

Regulus didn’t ask Sirius for things anymore. He was asking him for this.

Sirius felt the fight leave his body and fell back against the wall; eyes shuttering closed. The way Regulus was acting was shooting pulses of panic through Sirius body. Regulus was acting like someone who didn’t care about the consequences. Or … no. Because that would mean that Regulus was acting like Sirius. And he’s not like me, Sirius thought dully.

“Okay,” Sirius said, thinking back to the last conversation they’d had in this alleyway, ending with biting words and spit remarks.

“Okay?” Regulus asked, voice drenched with disbelief.

Sirius cracked an eye open. “Okay,” he repeated. Because Regulus and Sirius were never very much alike, were they? Red and Green. Heir and Disgrace. Older and Younger.

Regulus sighed deeply. “Just … not right now,” Regulus promised, voice almost small. “It’s just easier this way.”

You weren’t staying out of it, Sirius, Regulus shouted in his mind. Sirius swallowed.

“I suppose I haven’t always made things easy for you,” Sirius said like he hadn’t disappeared one night when he was sixteen after promising to make things better. He tried to keep his tone light, but guilt weighed it down. He couldn’t get Regulus’s words from earlier out of his fucking head. You left. And you don’t get to judge me for how I cleaned up your mess.

Regulus pursed his lips, like he knew exactly what Sirius was thinking about.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” his brother said. “Joining the Order – that was a choice you made. But running away to the Potters? Sirius, I don’t blame you for that. You had to leave. I don’t – I promise I don’t blame you,” Regulus’s voice broke a bit. “You had to get out of that house. I know that, I do.” Regulus sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Sirius, but Sirius clung to the words.

“I shouldn’t have left you there,” Sirius managed, closing his eyes.

“Sirius, you were a child,” Regulus said, and his brother’s hand grabbed his shoulder in a strange but comforting gesture. Sirius almost jumped at the gesture “We both were just kids.”

Sirius let out a broken laugh. He knew what his brother was acting like. “You’re still just a kid,” he said. And Regulus was. Just seventeen.

Regulus was acting like someone whose actions no longer had consequences.

Regulus gave him a wry smile. “So are you.”

Regulus was acting like someone who was already dead.

Chapter Text

Lily was starting to get restless. They’d been cooped up in the Hog’s Head for most of the day and the air was starting to get thick with tension the more they read of these stories. Her emotions felt on edge, and she felt she were balancing on a precarious edge, arms pinwheeling, desperate to shift her weight to stay upright but liable to overcompensate. She was sure she would fall into whatever emotion was stewing beneath her, but she had no idea what it was. She was just as likely to begin shouting in anger as she was to break down crying.

Everyone had slowly made their way back to their seats following the break after the second book. Aberforth cleaned the bar with a stony look etched into his aged face. Frank and Alice were cooped up in the back, trying their best to relax. Sirius had returned to his seat, oddly silent and Peter ended his conversation with Emmeline, oddly jumpy. Fabian and Gideon seemed in better spirits now that the second book was behind them but the second that Sybil slid the next book over to her sister after Dumbledore’s call for quiet, both brothers seemed to get a dark look in their eyes. To Lily, and perhaps to everyone else in the bar, it felt like these books could only bring trouble.

Pandora picked up the third book, slim like the last two, with a drawn cover that Lily couldn’t make out from where she sat.

“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,” Pandora read with a frown, carefully looking at the book in her hands. Lily couldn’t see the cover before Pandora flipped the book open and sat back in her seat, settling in.

Lily frowned at the name. She didn’t like the idea of her son anywhere near Azkaban, or any of its prisoners, but she was beginning to suspect her hopes for Harry to have a normal year at Hogwarts were optimistic at best. She was going to drive herself mad in the next five books if she kept working herself up. Hadn’t Sybil said that each of these books was about her son? What exactly did that mean for the downfall of Voldemort? As desperate as Lily was for Harry not to be involved, she had a sinking suspicion that he might be at the crux of it and the thought nearly stole her breath. She hadn’t even held Harry in her arms yet, had barely even known about him but for a day, and she would do anything to protect him.

She would die for him, she thought with a chill, remembering Voldemort’s words at the end of the first book. She did die for him. And where had that left Harry? With her rotten sister, alone and miserable most of his life.

“Chapter One,” Pandora’s voice drew Lily’s attention once again. “Owl Post. Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. … Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, ‘Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless – discuss.’”

Lily smiled at the scene being described in the book, remembering her own school year days, which felt so far behind her, tucked away in her own room, finishing summer assignments in the calm of night.

“The quill paused at the top of a likely-looking paragraph. … The most they could do, however, was to lock away Harry’s spellbooks, wand, cauldron, and broomstick at the start of the summer break, and forbid him to talk to the neighbors.”

“Absolute bellends,” Sirius muttered under his breath and Lily tried to temper her own anger.

She had never liked Vernon Dursley, not since the moment Petunia had introduced him to her family, moving in with him at his college apartment the moment she turned eighteen, and never looking back.

“As long as he didn’t leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that he was studying magic by night. … ‘HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I – WANT – TO – TALK – TO – HARRY – POTTER!’”

Lily sighed. Well that certainly could have gone better. It seemed like these books were intent on not allowing Harry any reprieve. Other parts of the room seemed to be taking the turn of events with a little more humor, at least.

Remus let out a snort of amusement next to her, glancing at James with a raised eyebrow, like it was his fault.

Fabian shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “Can’t say I was much better the first time I tried to use one,” the red head said.

Gideon glanced over in surprise. “When have you ever used a Muggle communication device?”

Fabian gave a sly smile.

“Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm. … ‘HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE – PEOPLE LIKE YOU!’”

Lily caught Sirius’s flinch, though he tried to hide it.

“Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit. … So Harry had had no word from any of his wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one.”

Marlene groaned and Lily felt the same way. It was terrible, but she almost wished these books would simply start at Hogwarts. Lily didn’t want to listen to this again.

“There was just one very small improvement – … He had never received a birthday card in his life.”

Lily saw James’s jaw tighten in anger.

“The Dursleys had completely ignored his last two birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose they would remember this one. … His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been, stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it.”

At this, James smiled. “Ah, the Potter family gift,” he said nostalgically.

Next to him, Sirius snorted. “Gift?” the other man asked incredulously.

“Can’t get this from a bottle, mate,” James said smugly. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“You’re delusional.”

“The eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar shaped like a bolt of lightning.”

The warm feeling Lily had gotten when Harry had described his eyes, nearly the same vibrant shade of green as Lily’s own, was immediately doused at the mention of his scar.

“Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. … Barely alive, Voldemort had fled …”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence in the room as the story of what would happen was told. It was clear that some – notable Moody – were desperate for a better explanation. Lily could sympathize. Despite what Remus had asserted, that it was something she had done to make Voldemort disappear, she couldn’t think of anything. She knew the theory behind magic like Life Debts, and they were reliant on intent so much so that many assumed them to be pure intentional spells. Of course, that theory fell by the wayside when one tried to reconcile it with the fact that bonds like this were almost never intentionally created. Besides, the idea of Voldemort losing his body … well a Protection spell wouldn’t do that. Harry would be protected, but the spell wasn’t one used for attack, it had no aggressive ability. But Voldemort’s form from the first book told a different story. Regulus Black had claimed Voldemort lost his body … Lily had no idea of how to do anything like that.

“But Harry had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. … Harry had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday.”

Lily’s heart sunk at that thought.

“He scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, … Harry recognized the unconscious owl at once – his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family,”

Lily saw Gideon and Fabian sit forward, almost instinctively and her heart warmed again. She was glad Harry seemed to have contact with his friends this summer, at the very least.

“Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol’s legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig’s cage. … Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.”

“Good on Arthur,” Benjy said, grinning, glancing over at Fabian and Gideon, who looked both excited and relieved. Lily knew that they had both been worried about Arthur’s previous tiff with Lucius. Malfoy wasn’t one to let go of a slight, but even Lily appreciated the confirmation that Arthur was still heading the Misuse office.

“A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, ‘We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker from Gringotts Wizarding Bank.’ … Most of its gone on this trip, but they’re going to buy me a new wand for next year.”

“Oh, thank Rowena,” Gideon sighed.

“Harry remembered only too well the occasion when Ron’s old wand had been snapped. … But he didn’t realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.”

Sirius snorted a laugh at the twins’ antics. Truthfully, Lily might agree more with Bill in this case, considering the level on legilimency likely required for an object like that to be reliable.

“Harry put the pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where if stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. … His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case with silver words stamped across is, reading Broomstick Servicing Kit.”

“Brilliant,” James said softly next to her. Lily couldn’t help the wide smile that grew on her face. Considering Hermione was Muggleborn, Lily could imagine the type of research she’d had to do in order to find and purchase a gift like that. Lily still felt like she was one step behind in the Wizarding world, especially now, reading these stories. Things kept on getting brought up that Lily had no reference for. She used to hate asking, but she’d gotten better at it, out of Hogwarts. James or Remus were always quick to explain something, and Remus would often have allusions to the muggle world that could provide a reference point.

“’Wow, Hermione!’ … the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly – as though it had jaws.”

Lily’s eyebrows flew up and she exchanged a curious glance with Remus. There were some dangerous books in the Hogwarts Library that Lily had come across, and she wasn’t talking about the information inside. Curses placed on the covers or protection spells woven into the pages. Lily would have liked to believe Hagrid wouldn’t send a dangerous book to her son, but this was also the man with a reputation for bringing children on detention out into the Forbidden Forest with him.

“Harry froze. … The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its cover.”

“What in the world,” Dorcas muttered under her breath. Most of the room seemed to relax a bit, having determined that this particular book wasn’t quite as dangerous as they might have initially feared but Lily still found herself irritated. Perhaps they would say this was the “muggle” in her, but she shouldn’t feel crazy for thinking that books shouldn’t bite, and chocolate shouldn’t run away from you. Sports shouldn’t regularly put students in the Hospital wing and forests next to schools shouldn’t be filled with deadly monsters.

“Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatten it. … Think you might find this useful for next year. Won’t say more here. Tell you when I see you.”

Remus frowned.

“Surely that isn’t a schoolbook?” he said nervously. Lily grimaced. She remembered that Harry had signed up for Care of Magical Creatures from the last book and she wondered if Hagrid knew the professor. Glancing over at the front of the room, McGonagall was looking at Professor Dumbledore with a strange cock of her eyebrow.

“Hope the Muggles are treating you right. … Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent of guardian to sign.”

Lily’s heart lifted and fell in a moment as Pandora read those words. The worry must have shown on her face.

“Surely they would still sign it,” Peter said nervously, picking up immediately at the crescent-fallen looks on the rest of their faces. One glance at Lily and James was already looking toward the front of the room.

“Maybe Minnie could …” he trailed off at the grimace of McGonagall’s face. Their old Head of House noticed immediately.

“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally, looking rather uncomfortable with the situation.

“A list of books for next year is enclosed. … Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else – glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.”

And with that bittersweet line, Pandora glanced up, finished with the chapter.

“I can read next, Mrs. Lovegood,” McGonagall said. At least this book seemed to start off a little better than the others, but Lily had a terrible feeling that it was all about to go downhill. Pandora passed over the book.

“Are you okay?” Pandora asked after handing out the book and Lily was surprised to see the question was directed at her sister. It wasn’t that Lily had forgotten that Sybil was in the bar, she had starting this entire debacle after all, but the other woman had been so quiet, almost spacing out during the readings like she wasn’t paying attention at all, eyes distant, like she was looking at something no one else could see.

Until Pandora said anything, Lily wouldn’t have noticed the pallor of her sister. Lily couldn’t say if Sybil had been looking sicker gradually through the reading, or if it was something that had come on more quickly. But she Pandora spoke, Sybil gave a small jump, startled back into the present.

Sybil didn’t reply, only shaking her head, green eyes darting to the book now in McGonagall’s hand, and flashing a look of panic back at her sister. Lily had no idea what that meant, but her stomach sunk. Pandora seemed to understand grimacing and giving her sister’s hand a squeeze before sitting back down.

McGonagall had the book cracked open, clearly waiting for an okay from the sisters before starting. With a nod from Pandora, McGonagall glanced down, frowning at the chapter.

“Chapter Two. Aunt Marge’s Big Mistake.”

Chapter Text

James was beginning to hate this task. And they weren’t even halfway through.

First, he was having to read a horrifically realistic account of a son that he orphans in no more than two years, put himself in perilous and dangerous situations with a frequency that was quite alarming. It was emotionally taxing and frankly exhausting, and James had been stuck in the dank atmosphere of the Hog’s Head all day with only a few scattered short breaks and he was about to go insane. He was not made to sit still in a room and listen to someone talk for hours on end, a fact he’d thought he’d spent seven years convincing Dumbledore and McGonagall - only for the pair to spearhead this madness.

James thought he might be going insane.

He held on to Dumbledore’s promise that they would only read a few more chapters and he would absolutely not think about having to do all of this again tomorrow.

“Harry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursley’s already sitting around the kitchen table. … ‘… The public is warned’ – “ McGonagall cut herself off with a frown. Then, she very deliberately looked up, eyes trained on Sirius, who was frowning next to James, only mildly curious. A chill ran down James’s spine and then McGonagall’s eyes flickered over to the front of the room, where Regulus Black was starting to sit forward nervously.

Slowly, McGonagall began to read again. “’… The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous.’”

The room went still.

In a second, Regulus’s face was a perfect blank mask and so many eyes in the room shot to him, including the wide grey eyes of his brother, looking particularly vulnerable. James knew this, of course, because instead of glancing at Regulus, James was looking toward his best friend, seeking him out almost on instinct.

Blessedly, McGonagall rushed to continue, as if hoping to detract from some of the attention thrown the way of the younger boy. Moody’s suspicious gaze was actually flickering back and forth between the brothers, which was something James tried not to feel irritated about. The old Auror was suspicious of everyone, but he had never quite let Sirius escape his last name. McGonagall’s distraction seemed to work, because as she read on, a few eyes wandered back towards the book, or to the person closest, as low conversations popped up around the room.

“’A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.”

James finally let his eyes drift toward Regulus, now that most of the attention on the room was elsewhere. He’d always been good at hiding his emotions, something that terribly reminded James of those early days in Gryffindor dorm, where Sirius would wait until he thought he was alone before allowing any reaction show on his then boyish face. Maybe James should be out of practice then, Sirius long since having allowed emotion not only to show, but often rule his expression. But sometimes Sirius’s expression was just another way of masking emotion and when Regulus’s eyes flickered over to his brother, James could immediately read the slight tension in his eyebrows, the faintest pursing of his lips, the expression more of a micro expression.

Regulus looked confused.

Sirius looked haunted.

It wasn’t something James expected from the brothers, who seemed to long since step into their roles as family disgrace and dutiful heir. Then again, this entire experience, Regulus had been acting strange. Volunteering information readily and thoroughly. And James knew that despite arguing, the discussion Regulus and Sirius had earlier seemed to go well.

“’No need to tell us he’s no good,’ snorted Uncle Vernon, … ‘Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!’”

Dorcas raised as eyebrow, shooting another look of confusion toward Regulus, who James had never seen with a single hair out of place.

The Black mentioned didn’t technically have to be Regulus. Perhaps they were only assuming that because Regulus was here, in the room with them. With Snape being mentioned in the story, maybe it was logical to think Regulus had to be a part of it as well. But most of the room wasn’t in the story, and several of them didn’t even seem to have a familial connection to it. There were many Blacks who James could imagine winding up in prison. Bellatrix and Narcissa were now Lestranges and Malfoys respectively, but James thought that saying Walburga Black deserve jail time was a gross understatement. Unfortunately, from Vernon, James knew the Black in question was a male. Orion had died earlier that year, not long after James’s own parents had passed. But Cygnus was a piece of work.

James tried not to dwell on how desperate these thoughts felt.

“He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed.”

James frowned at this description as well, trying to imagine Cygnus Black under these conditions. Truthfully, James wasn’t sure he could imagine Regulus Black described as such. James had never seen Regulus have longer hair, something that had always been more of Sirius’s style.

Moody’s beady gaze had darted back to Sirius and James leaned forward, blocking his friend from the old Auror’s view.

“The reporter had reappeared. … ‘You didn’t tell us where that maniac’s escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!’”

“Azkaban, no doubt,” muttered Alice, though it seemed to be a subconscious decision than a deliberate one. Her cheeks colored as eyes flickered her way.

“It makes sense,” Frank jumped in, a little defensively. Emmeline frowned.

“No, it doesn’t. No one has ever escaped Azkaban before …” she trailed off, eyes flickering to the book. James recalled the name, Prisoner of Azkaban. He has assumed that meant someone who was going to Azkaban, or had at one point been a prisoner, and was now released. But someone who escaped? Well, it was supposed to be impossible.

James glanced back over at Regulus. James knew he was a good wizard. He’d been in Slug Club with the younger boy for a bit. But to escape Azkaban? Could Regulus have really done it?

“Just because no one has, doesn’t mean they won’t,” Moody said gruffly, eyes flickering to Regulus this time, boring into him. Pandora shifted his way, face hard in a way James didn’t think was possible, but the girl looked ready to fight the Head Auror right there.

“It’s pointless guessing,” Dorcas jumped in. She sounded a bit nervous. “Let’s just keep reading.”

“Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. … She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors.”

Lily pursed her lips, looking like she didn’t quite want to glance Regulus’s way, but her neck did so anyways, a flash of panic in her eyes at the thought of Regulus attacking the Dursleys.

“’When will they learn,’ … ‘that hanging’s the only way to deal with these people?’”

Gideon made a small noise of distaste.

It was a volatile topic in the Wizarding World, and James was ashamed to admit he didn’t know much of the discussion that happened around capital punishment in the Muggle one. He imagined it was slightly different, with a dementor’s kiss being saved for the worst crimes in the Wizarding World. James wondered if Muggles did something similar. Lily had described something to him one time, a Lobo-something. A Lobotomy. Perhaps he could ask Lily at some point.

“’Very true,’ … ‘Marge’s train gets in at ten.’”

Lily groaned. “Oh, that awful woman,” she said which had a few turning toward her in surprise. Lily wasn’t normally one to speak poorly of others and based on the other Muggles around Harry when he was at the Dursley’s, James was sure he wouldn’t like this woman one bit.

“Harry, whose thoughts had been upstairs, with the Broomstick Servicing Kit, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump. … At Dudley’s fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statues. … The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley’s eyes.”

James was fuming at the end of Harry recounting his interactions with his “Aunt” Marge and he could practically feel the anger rolling of Lily next to him. McGonagall, at least, continued on quickly.

“’Marge’ll be here for a week,’ Uncle Vernon snarled, … ‘you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re talking to Marge.’”

“As if Harry’s the one who needs to be told that,” Lily hissed, glaring at the book in McGonagall’s hands. James tried to taper down his own anger and squeeze Lily’s arm comfortingly.

“’All right,’ said Harry bitterly, ‘if she does when she’s talking to me.’”

Regulus stiffened in the front of the room, an action that was becoming familiar to James whenever Harry spoke back and left an unsettled feeling in his stomach. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Sirius either, who was strained and still himself.

“’Secondly,’ … ‘we’ve told Marge you attend St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.’”

“What?” Marlene growled.

“Why can’t they just say he goes to a boarding school?” Dorcas asked, eyes blazing. James’s teeth were grinding together so hard he was sure they were welded shut.

“’What?’ … ‘Mummy’s bought him a lovely new bow tie.’”

There was a scoff of disgust that came from the front of the room and when James’s eyes shot over, he met a dark glare with a look of complete surprise of his own. It had been Snape, his glare now turned from the book and onto James as soon as James had glanced over.

James glared back.

“Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder. … ‘I want to ask you something.’”

James held his breath.

James had loved Hogsmeade, while he’d been at school. Not just on those nights, under the full moon, but on the weekends, sometimes sneaking through the cellar in Honeydukes, sometimes racing down the well-worn path with the other Hogwarts students. He didn’t want his son to miss out on it, on any of it.

“Uncle Vernon eyes his suspiciously. … ‘You’ll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won’t you?’” McGonagall’s face twisted in disgust. “Roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry with his fist raised.”

Sirius tensed, like he was about to jump out of his chair right there, and Lily’s hand slammed down on the table in front of her, making everyone in the room, James included, freeze.

There were no more tears in her eyes as she glared at the book, her green eyes cold and hard.

“Keep reading,” she ordered coldly. No one contradicted her.

James leaned forward; elbows braced on the table. He hated this. He spent five summers tearing himself up with anxiety for his best friend, trapped in an abusive home. He felt his chest constricting dangerously at this. In that moment, James didn’t care a bit about his own life, but he could never let what was described in this book happen.

A warm hand found its way into his and James glanced over at Lily’s fierce green eyes and he felt himself relax. This wouldn’t happen, he thought, and it felt like the truth.

“But Harry stood his ground. … If, at the end of it, you’ve toed the line and kept to the story, I’ll sign your ruddy form.’”

Remus let out a breath.

“Well, he didn’t say no,” the other man muttered. James hated the start of these books. He just wanted Harry at Hogwarts already.

“He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out. … Harry couldn’t see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat.”

Despite the description of basically everything else in that chapter, James let out a wane smile at this. James had long surrendered to the untidy mess on the top of his head, no matter how many times his mum had tried to shape it into something at least mildly respectable. Truly, forty years of living with his father should have taught Euphemia Potter better, but she was never one to give up.

“Aunt Marge loved criticizing him, so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be.”

Lily’s scoff almost sounded a bit amused, though her face was still drawn with worry.

“Well I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” she said faintly. James gave her hand a squeeze and relaxed when he felt her squeeze back.

“All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon’s car pulled back into the driveway, … ‘Still here, are you?’ ‘Yes,’ … ‘Don’t you say ‘yes’ in that ungrateful tone.’”

Marlene scoffed in disgust.

“’It’s damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you.’ … ‘Do they use the cane at St. Brutus’s, boy?’”

“The cane?” Marlene screeched angrily.

“’Er – ‘ … ‘All the time.’”

James thought that Harry was handling this far better than he was. It was just about all he could do not to send the book in McGonagall’s hands up in flames, as if that would somehow prevent this all from being reality.

“’Excellent,’ … ‘What about that escaped prisoner, eh?’ As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her.”

The room seemed to have leaned forward at the mention of the prisoner, whether it was desperation for more information about the Black who had escaped, or just desperation for Marge’s attention to get off of Harry. Truthfully, James wasn’t sure which he wanted more in that moment, but the book seemed intent of not providing any further details.

Sirius sat back heavily in his seat when the topic was changed, and Regulus shot him a wary glance. Every time the Black in the story was mentioned, Regulus looked more curious than anything else, like he was trying to puzzle out the identity, with perhaps a lot less denial than James. James maybe thought that Regulus would assume the Black was him. And yet, the younger boy seemed almost … confident that the prisoner mentioned in the story wasn’t him.

As far as the Order was concerned, they hadn’t heard any other Blacks, at least those that maintained the last name, close to joining the Death Eaters. Regulus was still technically in school, but James wasn’t entirely sure how much that mattered. He’d long suspected the Slytherins in his year had already gotten the Mark by the time graduation had come around, though most of the other Order members still didn’t seem to believe recruitment could have been happening in Hogwarts.

Regulus’s grey eyes flickered over to James and James couldn’t help but think of how eerily similar the two brothers looked. Regulus had a thinner face, a smaller stature, but they were unmistakably brothers.

“Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do. … ‘If there’s something rotten on the inside, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.’”

“Foul woman,” Lily muttered, her knuckled white from clenched fists.

“Harry tried to concentrate on his food, … ‘It’s one of the basic rules of breeding, … If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup – ‘”

Marlene jumped out of her chair, wand almost instinctively sliding into her hand.

“Oh, she did not just say what I think she did,” she growled lowly. Usually one to reign her in, Dorcas looked in no rush to stop her girlfriend.

Lily sighed. “It’s okay, Marls,” she said glumly, and James’s neck snapped to her, aghast. He had a death grip on the table.

“Lily – “ he started but Lily just patted his arm.

“Really, James,” she said sadly, closer to a whisper. “I just want to get through this part.”

James wanted that too – badly. He wanted this part over, long over, but something about the way Lily was brushing this off just felt wrong. She did this too often, allowing insults to roll over her even though she was more than willing to stand up against the same ones for others. It drove James mad at the best of times.

“At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand.”

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath and Remus shot a worried look to James that it took him a moment to understand. Accidental magic.

“Fuck,” Gideon said under his breath, clearly catching on as well. “The Ministry …”

James’s heart was pounding in his chest. The letter the Ministry had sent last year had been immediate at very clear: he only got one warning. But last year it had been Dobby’s magic, not Harry’s! Surely, after an inquiry, the Ministry would understand.

James felt desperate even as he thought it. The Ministry wasn’t exactly known for understanding nuance. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping. … ‘I have a very firm grip …’”

James held his breath as McGonagall read. Clearly, Vernon’s sister didn’t understand what had happened, and surely that would matter to the Ministry. Harry wouldn’t get kicked out of Hogwarts. For one, Dumbledore would never allow that. James shot a desperate look at the man, as if he could do something right now to change what had been written. Dumbledore was watching the book calmly, as if it were describing the weather.

“But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry suspiciously, so he decided he’d better skip desert and escape from the table as soon as he could. … Only last summer he’d gotten an official warning that has stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Harry would face expulsion from Hogwarts.”

Caradoc shook his head. “That won’t happen,” he said, and he sounded absolutely sure. James looked at him desperately and Caradoc’s light brown eyes met his own. It was hard not to feel like a child in front of Caradoc, but in that moment, James felt himself relax almost by instinct in front of the man.

“For one, he would be entitled to a hearing. But this was accidental magic. An inquiry on his wand would show that. Harry will be fine,” Caradoc said resoundingly and everyone in the room seemed to settle at his words.

“He heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way. … ‘Now, this one here – ‘”

James grit his teeth as Vernon’s sister addressed Harry again. Harry just needed to get through this summer and then – and then …

And then he’d be back at Hogwarts, for another year, and then he’d return to Dursleys. Again and again. Summer break after summer break. James felt horrible despair at the thought. He’d worked so hard to get his best friend out of an abusive home and now his son was stuck in one, all because he and Lily had died.

For perhaps the first time since these readings began, James felt a flash of anger at his and Lily’s death. How dare this war take something away from them? From their son? It simply wasn’t fair. What was it all for, if his son was suffering?

James felt a warm hand slip into his and he looked over at the steady face of his wife. Lily didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to have a sister like Petunia, and she didn’t deserve to have to sit here and listen to how horrible said sister could treat her child if they didn’t stop this. There was nothing James wouldn’t do to stop this book from becoming their future.

“She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench. … ‘It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day.’”

James felt a shiver down his spine, and he saw a few faces in the room freeze, as the sentiment was echoed. It wasn’t far off from something one might here sitting around an old pureblood family table and wasn’t that the damn irony of it all. As different as Muggles like the Dursleys or Wizards like the Malfoys insisted they were, there they were, spouting the same idiotic talking points, insisting they were different, superior for the same reason the other was inferior. And it was all just so fucking stupid.

“That’s bloody ironic,” muttered Sirius and James shook his head.

“’Bad blood will out. … but your sister was a bad egg. … Then she ran off with a wastrel and here’s the result right in front of us.’”

“That woman is horrid,” Marlene hissed, glaring at the book.

James was more angry that Harry was having to sit there and listen to Marge talk than he was about anything the woman was actually saying about him. More angry about the things she was saying about Lily.

“I swear to Godric,” Sirius muttered under his breath, but he didn’t finish the threat. The mention of a Black earlier in the story had obviously shaken his friend, but the only thing in Sirius’s eyes right then was a dangerous anger.

“Harry was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ears. … ‘This Potter … you never told me what he did.’ … ‘Unemployed.’”

Sirius snorted and Lily rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disgust. It was clear that the Dursleys were insistent to lie about James and Lily, maybe in some twisted way of justifying their feelings toward them, or whatever, frankly, James didn’t care.

“’As I expected!’ … ‘A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who – ‘ ‘He was not.’”

James sucked in a breath; a little surprised Harry had spoken up.

“Good,” Sirius said darkly, glaring at the book and James looked at his aghast. James wasn’t exactly a stranger to standing up to bullies – which was basically the kindest word James could use to describe Marge at that moment – but he didn’t want Harry getting in trouble for James’s sake. He didn’t want the Dursleys’ anger to come down on his son because of him.

“The table went very quiet. … ‘Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk I expect) – ‘”

“I can’t listen to this!” Marlene exclaimed, slamming her fist down on the table. “I mean, Merlin, is this necessary?”

“Let’s just get through it, Marls,” Lily said tiredly, and Marlene turned her glare on Lily.

“Oh, don’t you start. You always bloody do this,” she complained.

“Do what?” Lily asked, brows furrowed in genuine confusion. Marlene shook her head, ignoring a look of warning from her girlfriend.

“You never bloody stand up for yourself and don’t argue with me, Lily,” Marlene cut off when Lily opened her mouth to do just that. “You don’t. You let people walk all over you. That’s fine. Well, not really, but it’s fine. But you don’t get to be upset with me for being angry about it.” Marlene finished, leaning back on the bar and folding her arms, glaring at her friend.

Lily’s green eyes were bright. “I do not let people walk all over me!” she argued, twisting Marlene’s words into a funny tone. Marlene rolled her eyes and James sighed tiredly. Unfortunately, Lily heard it, and turned on him. “Oh, not you too,” she complained.

“Lils, you have to admit – “

“Are you kidding?” she interrupted, turning to face him now. James wasn’t. He really wasn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t have worded it exactly as Marlene did, but he didn’t disagree with the girl.

“Lily, I admire the way you stand up for others, especially those who aren’t able to stand up for themselves. But, yes, I wish you would advocate for yourself more often,” James said evenly. Lily’s green eyes were blown wide at James’s words. She opened her mouth, seeming ready to spit something back, but she only closed it again, letting out a sigh.

James wondered if she was thinking about that day by the lake in fifth year. Or maybe her sister’s wedding, her first day in Slug Club. Look, look how amazing you are! James wanted to shake her shoulders.

Lily pursed her lips, eyes falling to the floor. She sighed and her hand slipped again into James’s. He gave it a squeeze.

“Let’s keep reading,” Lily finally said, glancing up at McGonagall.

“’They didn’t die in a car crash!’ … Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech – “

“Oh no,” Emmeline muttered, eyes wide in horror. James’s hears sank. The only thing that made sense was that Harry was again describing accidental magic.

Hoping for the best, James glanced over at Caradoc, hoping for a reassuring look, but Caradoc’s face was pinched with worry. James’s heart thundered in his chest.

“Next second, several buttons just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls - … She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises.”

“Fitting,” Sirius muttered, eyes glinting dangerously. As objectively fitting as James might have thought this was, he couldn’t find any enjoyment at the comeuppance that Marge was getting in that moment.

“Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly. … In seconds, he had heaved his trunk to the front door.”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up and a relieved smile spread across his face.

“Thank Merlin,” he breathed. James’s heart pounded. If Harry could get out, surely the Weasleys would take him in. James knew it was asking a lot, but Molly and Arthur had seemed seconds away from bringing Harry home with them. Maybe James was being influenced by his own experiences, it had never been a question for Mom and Dad when taking Sirius in, and James was desperate for Harry to get out of that house.

“He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenching up the loose floorboards, and grabbed the pillowcase full of his books and birthday presents.”

Sirius looked mildly impressed by Harry’s preparations. When Sirius had showed up at James’s that fateful night nearly four years ago, he’d barely had anything on him, barely remembering to grab his wand when scrambling out of that house. They’d managed to get Sirius’s things later that summer from – come to think of it, from Regulus. James glanced toward the front of the room now, Regulus’s blank expression looking somewhat fractured, eyes distant. Under the table, where few could see, James saw Pandora Lovegood squeeze Regulus’s arm.

“He wriggled out, seized Hedwig’s empty cage, and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser let in bloody tatters. … ‘I’m going,’ … ‘I’ve had enough.’”

James let go of his breath, relief flooding through him. He would worry about how Harry was going to get to the Weasleys after Harry was out of that house.

“And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig’s cage under his arm.”

McGonagall finished, eyes flashing as she looked up. James’s old head of house looked relieved.

“I’ll take the next chapter, Minerva,” Edgar said, and McGonagall passed the younger man the book. James sighed, putting his head down on his arms. The day had been long, and he was ready for these readings to be over. Harry was out of that house, surely it could only get better from here.

“Chapter Three,” Edgar read. “The Knight Bus.”

Chapter Text

Sirius was restless. He couldn’t sit still anymore, foot tapping beneath the table when Remus had finally splayed his palm on top of his drumming fingers.

Remus glanced over at him again, eyebrow raised, and Sirius tried to keep the flush from his cheeks. Remus’s unending patience had him calmly leaning back in his chair, while Lily and James’s looked like they were a breath away from a panic attack, clinging to each other in the hopes to keep grounded.

Peter was sitting absolutely still, looking pale. He seemed horribly worried throughout these readings and hadn’t been handling the stress well. If Sirius had the emotional capacity to check in on the other boy, he might have, but truthfully, he felt like he was barely holding himself together, and fraying at the edges.

“Harry was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk.”

“He could owl Ron,” Fabian said a little doubtfully.

“Hedwig is out,” Gideon reminded him.

“And all the Weasleys are in Egypt,” Emmeline pointed out glumly, a small detail that had actually slipped Sirius’s mind. He’d forgotten about Ron’s family trip, assuming that Harry could simply take refuge at the Burrow. Technically, he still could, but Sirius doubted Harry knew where the Burrow was.

“And Hermione is in France,” Gideon reminded them worriedly. Now Sirius’s heart was beginning to sink. If Harry couldn’t go to his friends, where could he go?

“He sat quite still, anger still surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart. … He was stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go.”

“This is a nightmare,” Lily muttered, head in her hands.

Sirius didn’t know what to think. The Potter’s had always been an option to him, since the moment he’d met James at Hogwarts, an escape from everything his house had held. But without the Potters to go to …

Sirius felt a chill. Without anywhere to run, would he have really run at all? Sirius would like to say yes. Like to say that he would live on the streets before he’d have ever stayed in that place – not even daring to call it a home.

On instinct, Sirius glanced over to Regulus. His brother’s face looked forlorn, but that could have been just from listening to the story. Regulus had gotten surprisingly invested in it, which maybe shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to Sirius at all. It felt like forever ago, but Sirius could recall Regulus curling up in Sirius’s bed, the stars hanging outside his window, listening to The Tales of Beedle the Bard or Grimm’s Stories to Read in the Dark.

Andromeda had once brought them a cheaply bound book about talking animals that they had both loved. It wasn’t until Sirius later visited her and Nymphadora after he’d gotten disowned that he learned it was a Muggle book.

Sirius couldn’t shake the image of that small boy from his mind. Sure, Regulus’s face had thinned with age, but it was still rounded with youth. He had grown in the years since, but he still had a small stature. Regulus was a child. Eighteen in little over a week. Ink on his arm.

But where did he have to run? A voice whispered in his head.

Me, he argued back. Regulus could have come to me. Sirius would never have turned him away. Surely Regulus knew that.

Why would he?

No. He did. Regulus and Sirius might not have been on the best of terms that summer that Sirius had left, but Regulus knew that he could always come to him. He’d even come that night, just before Sirius had run away …

And asked you to make it better. And what did you do? Leave in the middle of the night?

Sirius shut his eyes tightly. He’d had no choice. His parents were going to pull him from school. They were killing him in that house. He’d had to leave.

“You okay?” Remus voice was low but as soon as it reached Sirius’s ear, the voice in his head was snuffed out. Sirius glanced over at Remus’s troubled frown, watching Sirius closely. He took a deep breath.

“Good,” he whispered back, and he almost believed it.

“And the worst of it was, he had just done serious magic, which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts.”

Before James could even glance his way, Caradoc was shaking his head.

“The Ministry should give him a chance to explain before taking any action,” he said firmly.

“Should being the key word,” Sirius muttered. The Ministry was full of witches and wizards from old families that Sirius doubted had any kind feelings toward the boy who symbolized Voldemort’s downfall. If Lucius was anything to go off of, many of them had probably been Death Eaters themselves and bought their way out of punishment.

“He had broken the Decree for Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren’t swooping down on him where he sat.”

Gideon frowned. “It is strange he hasn’t gotten a letter though,” the older boy said thoughtfully. “The one last year came nearly immediately.”

Gideon’s observation sat in the room for a second while the rest of them thought it over.

“Peculiar,” Dumbledore said, and that was that.

“Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. … He’d never be able to drag his trunk all the way to London. Unless …”

“Does he know about the Knight bus?” Gideon asked, a bit confused.

Fabian shook his head. “Maybe Ron’s told him?” he guessed.

“He looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. … what if he bewitched the broomstick, covered himself in the cloak, and flew to London?”

“Not a bad plan,” muttered Remus, looking worriedly at the book. It was clear that Harry had no clue what would happen next and considered him expelled already. Sirius’s heart clenched.

“Then he could get the rest of his money out of his vault and … begin his life as an outcast. … ‘Lumos’ Harry muttered, … He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.”

James sat forward suddenly, eyes sparking with fear. Sirius swallowed hard, horrified at whatever came next.

“Harry stepped backward. … Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus.

“Oh, thank Godric,” Sirius muttered. Harry had clearly accidentally called the Knight Bus, but it was the best avenue for travelling without Floo or Apparation. Harry would be okay. He had wizarding money and a way to travel. He’d be okay, Sirius reassured himself.

“For a split second, Harry wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall. … ‘Choo fall over for?’”

Marlene snorted. “He obviously didn’t do that on purpose!” she argued with a roll of her eyes. Dorcas patted her comfortingly on the shoulder.

“’I didn’t do it on purpose,’ … ‘Like a dog … but massive …’”

Sirius narrowed his eyes as Harry revealed more of what he had seen. A massive dog? Sirius didn’t understand what Harry was describing but Remus sent him a strange look.

“What?” he asked, a little defensively

“Nothing,” Remus said quickly and quietly.

“He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. … ‘Neville Longbottom.’ Said Harry.”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up at this and he glanced at James and Lily in surprise.

“’So – so this bus,’ … ‘did you say it goes anywhere?’ … A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.”

Sirius felt a familiar chill. Harry could only be describing the Prisoner discussed by his uncle and aunt. The one that had made even the Muggle news. Sirius’s eyes flew to his brother.

“’That man!’ … Stan turned to the front page and chuckled.” Edgar brought up short, eyes blowing wide. He glanced up, golden eyes locking with Sirius’s, wide and disbelieving. A cold hand locked around Sirius’s spine.

“I – “ Edgar cut himself off. The rest of the Hog’s Head was staring at him in anticipation, curious. Sirius wanted to shrink into nothing.

“’Sirius Black,’ he said, nodding. ‘Course’e was on the Muggle news, Neville, where you been?’”

The air was sucked out of the room and Sirius felt like he could barely breathe.

“What?” Remus said, breathlessly and when Sirius turned to look at him, his eyes are blown wide. “It’s – why – “ but Remus didn’t finish. Sirius had a horrible feeling bubbling in his stomach. Sickness clawing at the back of his throat. Peter sat next to Remus, jaw popped open, confusion twisting his face. Like he couldn’t understand the words Edgar read. Like the possibility hadn’t even entered Peter’s mind. Sirius stared at Peter and hung onto that.

Then he glanced around the room.

Unease. That was perhaps the best word to describe the looks. Not outright suspicion – at least not from anyone who wasn’t Moody, but that wasn’t exactly unusual. Unease. And maybe a little fear. That feeling in the back of Sirius’s throat grabbed him by the neck and squeezed.

Edgar was staring at him in horror.

“There has to be some sort of mistake.” James. Of course, it was. His best friend’s voice was strong, resolute. James spoke like he had already read the book. Like he had no doubts. Like his words weren’t just a desperate denial.

“Edgar, keep reading please,” Dumbledore spoke calmly. Sirius’s eyes shot over toward the man, wide and vulnerable. He felt like that day in the Headmaster’s office, four years ago now. One of the worst days of Sirius’s life.

I will not expel you my dear boy, do you understand why? Sirius hadn’t. Not then. Not like he did now.

“He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry’s face, removed the front page, and handed it to Harry.”

Sirius felt a chill as Edgar read. He’d guessed it, already, but here the words were in confirmation. James’s child had no idea who he was. Not a flicker of familiarity at his name. Sirius had known that Lily’s sister and her husband would not have mentioned him, but nothing. Not even the trace of a memory.

Maybe that’s for the best, a traitorous voice whispered.

“’You oughta read the papers more, Neville.’ … BLACK STILL AT LARGE … ‘Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. … the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.” Edgar’s voice trailed off, looking horrified at the words he had just read.

Thirteen. Thirteen people.

“I don’t believe it,” said the only person who seemed to be able to find their voice. Emmeline’s face was pale. Fabian’s jaw was locked tight. Frank’s brown eyes were seeped in suspicion. Benjy Fenwick’s lips were pressed together tightly, eyes sparking. Even if Sirius were able to think of something to say, bile was lodged in his throat.

“James- “ Frank cut in, almost chastising, but the other man seemed to cut himself off. Sirius felt the heavy weight of eyes staring at him, the room tense, like they expected him to make a move. Sirius didn’t think he could even breathe.

“What the fuck?” Remus asked, turning toward Sirius, ever so slightly pulling back. Most people might not have noticed it, but Sirius did. So did James. Sirius could feel the blood drain from his face as he stared at his hand.

“Harry looked at the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen pictures of them in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy skin, looked just like one.”

Twelve years. Twelve years ago. It hit Sirius in that moment. Where am I? he’d asked just earlier that day. What had Monty always said? Be careful when asking questions. You might just get the answer.

Twelve years in Azkaban and Harry was describing this person that Sirius didn’t recognize.

“’Scary-lookin’ fing, inee?’ … ‘Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-‘Oo.’”

The pounding in Sirius’s head sounded like footsteps in a silent hall, an eleven-year boy making his way over to a table adorned in red and gold, the silence suffocating him was violent.

James was shaking his head already. “It’s got to be wrong. Like the other books. It was never obvious who was actually bad. That’s what this is,” he insisted.

Snape sneered. “Oh, you were so quick to believe the boy when it was me he was accusing, but now suddenly he couldn’t possibly be right?”

James turned a fierce glare on the boy in the front of the room. “Yeah! Because you working for Voldemort is basically a given whereas for Sirius it goes against all rational thought!”

“Well, not all rational thought,” Moody huffed, and James turned on the old Auror, incredulous.

“What the hell are you talking about? Sirius is in the Order!” he argued. Moody narrowed his eyes.

“And we got a spy,” Moody accused. “If you all don’t want to face it, I’ll say it! Someone in here is leaking information, and we all know Black has contacts with the Death Eaters. Hell, one of them is in this very room with us!” Moody gestured to Regulus, who only raised a single eyebrow. He looked … bemused.

James looked furious. “Sirius has nothing to do with his family!”

The Hog’s Head felt like it was collapsing in on Sirius, like someone had placed a shrinking charm on the building while he was still inside. The voices were still going back and forth but Sirius was staring at the empty spot next to his hand on the table, where Remus had pulled back. Pulled away.

“Give me a minute,” he muttered, and he wasn’t even sure anyone hear him. But somehow found himself stumbling out of his chair – his feet moving toward the door.

“Should we let him leave,” someone asked but the voice just sounded like ringing to his ears. He didn’t know what he would do if someone tried to stop him. Someone answered, the voice snappish, but any voices were indistinct. Background to the pounding in Sirius’s chest.

Air. He needed air.

Sirius fumbled out the door and the cold winter air of Hogsmeade slammed into his face. He gasped, feeling the cold breeze seep into him. He needed – he needed a smoke, but he didn’t have cigarettes on him. Remus had some, Sirius knew, but there was something rotten and crumbling there he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on for too long. He leaned heavily on the railing, the deserted streets of the town soothing his racing mind.

Sirius took a deep breath. Another.

The door to the Hog’s Head creaked open behind him and Sirius figured it was James, finally done pointlessly arguing Sirius’s case. Vainly trying to stand up for a Black. Sirius had tried to warn the other boy, when they’d first met.

My whole family’s been in Slytherin.

And James, the idiot, had decided to be his friend anyway.

But then the door of the Hog’s Head shut quietly, and the person who exited just stood off to the side patiently, and Sirius knew it wasn’t James.

In the corner of Sirius’s eye, he saw Regulus fumble something out of his pocket. He recognized the red and white packaging as a Muggle cigarette brand that Remus smoked. Sirius would find the tins stashed away between the couch cushions back at their flat, a bittersweet reminder of whenever the other boy left town at a moment’s notice.

Regulus lit the cigarette with a flick of his fingers and casually offered it to his brother. Sirius should be impressed by the wandless magic. Instead, he grabbed the rollup and took a puff.

“So,” Regulus said. “Welcome to the dark side.”

“That’s not funny,” Sirius snapped. Sirius allowed the nicotine to burn into his lungs. The smoke caked Sirius’s heart. He took another draw.

Regulus snorted. “It’s a little funny,” he said. Sirius turned to glare at his brother and Regulus plucked the cigarette out of his hands, taking a deep breath.

“Come on, Sirius, you don’t actually believe that shit, do you?” Regulus asked, blowing the smoke into the freezing air. Regulus looked at him like he was an idiot and Sirius tried not to feel a stab of nostalgia. He handed the cigarette back. Sirius took it in his numb fingers.

“What do you mean?” He asked, feeling completely thrown by the direction of the conversation.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Please Sirius. Trying to get you to do anything you don’t want to do is like herding kneazles.” Regulus’s grey eyes met Sirius’s own and his brother looked at him very calmly. “Do you want to get the Dark Mark?” he said without preamble.

Sirius flinched, reeling back at how casually Regulus had asked it. “No!” he shot back, forcing bile back down his throat. Regulus took another draw of the cigarette, shrugging before stubbing it out on the snow-covered rail.

“Then you didn’t. The book is wrong.”

Sirius gaped at him. “Wha – how can you say that?” he stumbled. Sirius expected James to defend him, was completely unsurprised by the other boy’s angry and immediate defense. Defending Sirius had become an instinct for James, no matter how misplaced Sirius always feared it might be. But this was something Sirius had thought withered a long time ago, drowned in red ties and starved from two years of silence.

Regulus looked at him incredulously. “Come on, Sirius. You would tear into us for unflattering word choices. You wouldn’t last a day as a Death Eater.”

Regulus had the unique ability to say something comforting and irritating at the same time.

Sirius frowned. “I lasted sixteen years in that house didn’t I?” he grumbled and he really wasn’t sure what he was arguing at this point, but arguing with Regulus was an instinct, something he did without thinking, and there was very little able to make it through the fog in his head at that moment.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Barely,” he pointed out, like Sirius didn’t vanish into the night without warning. “And that’s how I know you wouldn’t last a day.” Sirius looked away, glancing down at the spent cigarette and mourning the comfort of nicotine.

“You really should watch your words, Reg. Especially in there,” he started, and Regulus huffed a laugh, the noise taking Sirius so much by surprise he stopped short on his rant.

“Proved my point, haven’t I?” his brother asked, and Sirius rolled his eyes. He didn’t – he didn’t know what to think. A doubt that had taken root in his chest nearly four years ago was wrapping its way around his lungs and squeezing the air from them. It all came back to that, didn’t it? The clock nearing midnight, early April 1976. The full moon peeking through the clouds. The howl from the depths of the Shack, familiar and foreboding. And Snivellus snivelling all the way back up to the castle.

“I – “ Sirius choked off. He didn’t know if he trusted himself to finish a sentence, much less with this.

Regulus looked at him, grey eyes soft in a way that Sirius didn’t think they would ever be again. It made his chest ache.

“You’re not a traitor, Sirius,” Regulus said. “Trust me.”

And Sirius did.

Chapter Text

When the Black brothers returned, James had managed to get the majority of the Hog’s Head under control. It hadn’t started well, though.

“This is insane,” Benjy had started, lowly, almost as soon as the door swung shut behind Regulus.

“Thank you,” James said, shaking his head. Benjy had looked at him, concerned and a little sad.

“Listen, James, I’m sorry, but it’s kind of insane we aren’t addressing this,” the other man expanded. James scoffed but before he could respond, Gideon interrupted.

“He’s not wrong, we need to talk about what we’re going to do,” the other man said.

“Do?” James asked, voice challenging. He was so beyond done with this conversation and it had hardly begun at that point.

“Emmeline just recovered from being ambushed on her last mission because someone leaked the intel last week,” Gideon said, voice sharp. His eyes flickered over to where Sirius and Regulus had disappeared out of the Hog’s Head.

“Please don’t bring me into this,” Emmeline said. She was picking at her arm that James knew was recently healed from that botched mission and wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone, her olive face flush.

“That wasn’t Sirius!” James denied, voice bordering on shrill.

“You can’t know that, James,” Gideon said sternly. James had only rolled his eyes.

“Sure, I can,” he had glared back.

It continued on like that for a bit.

The rest of the Order had seemed too shocked to get into it with James, at first. Marlene and Dorcas just shared muted looks of horror and disbelief, not adding one way or another to the argument. Alice abandoned her qualms with a word from Lily which made James was to kiss his wife right then and there. Benjy Fenwick had continued to raise tentative doubts that James continued to thoroughly shout down. Eventually, a call to rest by Dumbledore quieted the lot just before Sirius returned. Mutterings remained low and looks were shot their way, but no one started back into it as Sirius found his seat once again.

James thought that a lot of them might have just been surprised to see him yell, which was fair. James didn’t shout often. But he’d run his voice dry trying to get it into the thick skulls of everyone there: Sirius wasn’t a Death Eater.

The only one immune was Moody, who simply glowered at James through his rants and stood firm on his stance. Which was fine.

It was just fine.

They’d all see soon enough.

Truthfully, James wasn’t exactly hopeful when Regulus had gone after his brother. James wasn’t sure he trusted the younger Black not to end the whole thing in a screaming match. But when Sirius returned, previously dulled grey eyes having that familiar spark, James took back everything bad he’d ever thought about the younger boy.

Sirius muttered some half-hearted apologies, sitting down again at the table, pulling his chair close to James.

“Well, now that we’re all on the same page,” James said, glaring at anyone he could make eye-contact with. He felt Lily’s hand slide into his.

“We’ll sort this out, Sirius,” Lily promised firmly, and James gave her hand a squeeze, honestly wanting to cry.

“It just – it doesn’t make sense …” Peter whispered under his breath, pale and shaky and mostly to himself. Well, Peter seemed to be going through something at the moment but at least his head was in the right place. Remus was noticeably quiet. Trying to be discreet, James kicked him under the table.

“Ow,” Remus said. James glared at him.

“Let’s just, keep reading,” Sirius interrupted before Remus could get in a word of edgewise. Sirius slumped back in his chair as he spoke, crossing his arms.

“’What, Voldemort?’” Edgar got to right away, eager to finish. Sirius sunk, if possible, further into his chair. “Even Stan’s pimples went white; … ‘Very close to You-Know-‘Oo, they say.’”

James just shook his head. Madness. Absolute madness. He’d never heard anything more ridiculous in his life.

“’Anyway, when little ‘Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-‘Oo – ‘ … I ‘eard eh thought ‘e’d be second-in-command once You-Know-‘Oo ‘ad taken over.’”

Regulus Black snorted at that, like the notion was so absurd it was almost comical. James could honestly hug him.

Others in the room were not being as sensible. Alice stiffened and shot a sharp look over toward Sirius. James glared back at her, but the other girl didn’t seem to notice.

“’Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an’ Black took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted ‘alf the street apart, an’ a wizard got it, an’ so did a dozen Muggles that got in the way.’”

Emmeline gasped, horrified. Sure, Sirius was a little reckless, but just … no. Just, no.

When does all this protest become too much protest? A voice inside James’s head asked. James shook it out.

Edgar had paused in the reading, looking like he was struggling to process what he was reading. At the front of the room Dumbledore cleared his throat. He seemed to be taking the last chapter as he was taking everything else in the book – with little more than a pleasant smile.

“Edgar, please continue.” The man in question rushed to continue.

“’’Orrible, eh?’ … ‘Laughed.’” Edgar read hesitantly.

James gritted his teeth. Next to him, Sirius let out a shuttering breath. Although Peter at least seemed to be in agreement with the stupidity of this whole thing, his friend's face was turning a sickly shade of green.

“’Jus’ stood there an’ laughed.’ … ‘’Cos’e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?’”

Sirius’s face was pale. Others in the room were glancing over, like they were worried Sirius’s sanity might snap right then and there. James tried not to feel irritated by the looks, but he must not have been doing a very good job because Lily gave his hand another conforting squeeze.

“’If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,’ said Ern in a low voice.”

James shook his head. “I don’t believe that,” he said.

Remus looked at his sympathetically.

“Twelve years in Azkaban, James?” the other man asked hesitantly. James glared at his friend but didn’t have anything else to say.

“I’ve probably completely lost my mind by now,’ Sirius said lowly. James didn’t know what to say to that. He knew – well he didn’t know, but he’d heard stories of what Azkaban did to people. But Sirius … James didn’t even want to think it.

“You say that like there was much mind to lose, Black,” Lily teased, bumping Sirius’s shoulder with her own. James didn’t think it was possible to love her more, but she managed to pull a tentative smile from the other man.

“’I’d blow myself up before I set foot in that place.’ … ‘Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it.’”

Marlene glanced over nervously. “It does seem quite … unbelievable,” she said hesitantly.

James felt a chill go down his spine. He knew how Sirius might have managed to escape. He glanced over at his friend, his own horrified look echoed on his face. Peter’s eyes were wide and wet, and Remus looked sick next to them.

“’Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it.’ … ‘Ear about that ‘Arry Potter? Blew up ‘is aunt!’”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “What? How do they know that?” she asked in a rush. James tried to focus his spinning mind.

“The Ministry must have sent out an alert about him. Maybe an owl did go to the Dursleys?” James guessed. If the Ministry had realized that Harry had left, they could have sent out a notice. But that would mean Harry was in a lot more trouble for the accidental magic than they’d originally thought. James shot a worried glance at Caradoc who read it immediately.

“They could just be concerned for his safety,” Caradoc said. His tone was reassuring but Lily only looked more agitated.

James frowned. Sure, he was concerned for Harry’s safety himself. His son was thirteen years old and alone, basically hitch-hiking with the Knight Bus, whose drivers were never exceptionally known for their sanity. But the Ministry wasn’t ever particularly concerned for the safety of children. Lily looked equally doubtful.

“Could they?” she asked. James knew she struggled to believe that the wizarding world took danger seriously which … was fair. James could see her point, at least.

Caradoc raised an eyebrow. “The child who defeated Voldemort is missing, and there is an escaped Death Eater on the loose.”

“There’s – “ James stuttered. “Sirius’s isn’t a Death Eater,” he argued, glaring at the older man in betrayal. Caradoc just raised his hands placatingly.

“But that’s what the Ministry believes, Jamie,” he continued comfortingly. James felt strangely betrayed by the childhood nickname. “We have to consider everything, don’t we?”

“I wouldn’t – “ Sirius glanced over, grey eyes wide. “I wouldn’t hurt James and Lily’s kid.” Of everything, Sirius sounded most sure about this.

It was Lily who reached over, giving Sirius’s hand a squeeze. “It’s okay, Sirius,” she said calmly. James had no idea how she could be so calm. “We know,” she said simply.

It was clear that few others in the room agreed, but eventually Edgar began reading again.

“’We ‘ad ‘im ‘ere on the Knight Bus, di’n’t we, Ern?’ … ‘Diagon Alley,’ said Harry.”

Dorcas nodded in approval. “Not a bad idea. He’s got wizard money. He might be able to get a room.”

James felt himself nodding. It wasn’t a bad idea at all.

“’Righto, said Stan. … ‘There you are, Harry.’ Said a voice.”

James sat up straight, trying to figure out who this was. Hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

“Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. … he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.”

Caradoc’s eyebrows shot straight up. Edgar frowned.

“Never thought Fudge would be caught dead in a place like the Leaky,” he said, clearly doubtful at the words he had just read.

Gideon frowned. “What is he doing there?” he asked no one in particular. Edgar shook his head, but Caradoc looked worried. Eventually, the former continued.

“Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them. … ‘Sit down, Harry,’ said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.”

James shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t ever met Cornelius Fudge, but James knew his boss, Scrimgeour, was no fan of him. Most of the Auror Department wasn’t. The older man didn’t seem to take anything regarding the war very seriously, and James had a hard time believing that had changed in the following twelve years.

“Harry sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire. … ‘I’d started to think … but you’re safe, and that’s what matters.’”

James could not actually comprehend what the Minister was saying until Remus glanced over.

“They think Sirius is after Harry,” his friend said, a little breathlessly.

James snorted. “Well, that’s obviously ridiculous,” he said forcefully.

“James,” Marlene’s voice was hesitant, and James turned to glare at her.

“It is,” he argued, glaring at the blond. There was no way. Marlene knew Sirius. She was his friend, for Godric’s sake. He couldn’t believe this.

“I’m not – I’m not saying anything for sure, just …” but she trailed off, clearly thinking better of saying anything at all. She sighed, dragging a hand through her choppy hair. “Forget it,” she muttered, leaning back on the bar.

“Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Harry. … ‘I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays.’ He said, ‘and I don’t ever want to go back to Privet Drive.’”

James felt himself nodding. It was imperative now, more than ever, that Harry get out of the bloody house.

“’Now, now, I’m sure you’ll feel differently once you’ve calmed down.’”

James threw his hands in the air. “He’s not even listening to him!” James raged. James knew the Ministry had a poor reputation of providing child services but surely … surely …

Regulus was shaking his head as well. “They won’t help. Even if Fudge did hear him out, the Ministry would never risk interfering.” Regulus’s voice was surprisingly bitter, and James turned to him, almost stunned.

Lily glanced as well, her hard gaze falling into something curious. “What do you mean ‘risk’ interfering?” she asked. Regulus glanced at her sadly.

“The Ministry doesn’t dare set that precedent. The old families control the House of Mages, meaning they basically control any legislation in that place. If they started looking into the treatment of Harry, they’d have to face the truth about themselves. They simply couldn’t afford to do that.”

And with that bleak assessment of politics, Edgar continued reading.

“’They are your family, after all, and I’m sure you are fond of each other – er – very deep down. … ‘Have you had any luck with Black yet?’ Harry asked. Fudge’s finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.”

James sucked in a breath. He knew what he hoped for and it felt a bit like betrayal.

“’What’s that?’ … ‘D’you think you could – ‘”

James grimaced. He’d forgotten about Harry’s Hogsmeade form but there was little chance that the Minister would sign it for Harry, James already knew. Perhaps McGonagall would be lenient, but James was starting to doubt that as well.

“Fudge was looking uncomfortable. … And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillow and fell asleep.” Edgar finished.

“Perhaps we should take our break for the night,” Dumbledore suggested easily, the old man his same, amiable self. “We can meet at the same time tomorrow,” he said, glancing at Sybil, who had sunken low in her seat. The woman nodded tiredly.

“You’re not even going to address it then?” Moody barked, glaring at Dumbledore as the other man called the evening to a close. Everyone in the room froze as Dumbledore turned calmly to the old Auror.

“As with everything else in the books, the readings will tell us in their own time,” Dumbledore said, and his crystal blue eyes flickered over to the bar where his brother stood, watching the scene closely. “There is nothing to address, Alastor,” Dumbledore said with finality.

Moody was not so easily swayed. His fist dropped down on the table – hard. “There is a spy in our midst,” the old man growled. Dumbledore blinked at him.

“As there was yesterday, and the meeting before,” Dumbledore continued calmly. “The book has not told us anything about a spy that we did not know already. Until it deigns to, we must be patient.”

Moody scoffed. “This isn’t like the other books, Albus. Don’t sit there and tell me the allegations here are no more than the suspicions of an eleven-year old boy. This is the Ministry on a man hunt for someone sitting in this room with us!”

“And someday in the future that may be the case,” Dumbledore shrugged. “But that day is not today. I check the Ministry’s Most Wanted list every morning, Alastor. In fact, there is only one person in this room on it, and I can assure you that I am taking every precaution in that regard. If you find Aberforth’s warding in that regard insufficient, I’m sure he would be more than happy for your help.”

Aberforth did not particularly look like he wanted the help of Alastor Moody, but he didn’t say anything in the tense moments of silence that followed. The man in question sulked in his seat next to Dumbledore, black eyes unimpressed. Moody’s eyes narrowed, but Dumbledore didn’t say anything else.

“Alright then,” Dumbledore said with finality. “We will start at the same time tomorrow,” he said in dismissal. The old man stood and stretched. Next to him, Caradoc and Edgar began preparing to leave as well.

James glanced over at Lily then, seeing his own weariness reflected in her face. He sighed.

“Ready to head home,” he asked taking her hand. She gave him a faint squeeze and a tired smile.

“Yep,” she said, pushing her chair in. She glanced at the others around the table. “How about you boys? Coming with, heading home?” she asked easily.

Peter looked nervous. “Think I’ll go back to mum’s tonight,” the smaller boy murmured quietly. “Was supposed to go last night ...” he trailed off. James nodded in understanding. Peter’s mom had been sick for a while now. Sometimes he had to miss Order meetings to stay with her in Chester.

“Alright, well, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Lily said, giving the boy a hug. Peter looked stiff and awkward in her arms and James tried not to laugh.

“How about you two?” James asked, wishing he could smack the two of their heads together. He wanted to lock the pair in a room until they actually talked to one another, but James had promised himself a long time ago he wouldn’t interfere.

Remus shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and Sirius’s gaze was on the floor, not looking up.

He mumbled something under his breath. James frowned.

“What was that?” he asked, sure he misheard.

Sirius glanced up. “I probably have to stay here tonight,” Sirius said. James furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? Why?” he asked, and Sirius set him a look of disbelief. He glanced, somewhat obviously, to where Regulus and Snape were waiting beside Aberforth to be led upstairs to wherever they were staying. Perhaps Moody was actually taking Dumbledore up on his suggestion, because he hovered nearby.

It took James another moment for it to click. Then, he rolled his eyes.

“Oh please,” he said like it was absolutely ridiculous. It was.

Sirius looked at him sternly. “James. Look. I – the book is wrong, alright. I would never – I would never,” he said firmly. “But, at least for now, we should just do what makes everyone the most comfortable. And this …“ he trailed off and his eyes flickered to the side in a way that James would never miss. To Remus. Toward Moony. “This would just be easier for everyone, okay?”

James was quiet for a moment. He understood. It wasn’t that Sirius wanted to be kept here, it was that he didn’t want to go home. With Remus. Remus, who had pulled away. Who had been awfully quiet. Who wasn’t looking at him, even now.

James’s friends were idiots, really.

“That has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he declared boldly. Sirius’s mouth dropped open, like he honest to Godric thought James would agree.

“Still here?” James jumped a little at the voice for Professor Dumbledore. The older man wandered away from his brother, light blue eyes twinkling strangely.

James hadn’t spoken to Dumbledore directly in a long time. Most of their interactions now took place in an Order meeting, their conversations in the open and often impersonal. But this task, everything from the last day and half, James had this sudden desperation to speak to the old man. He had questions, so many questions. He felt like a student again, called up into his Headmaster’s office. Head boy and in over his head.

“Professor,” Sirius started, and it was so wrong. Sirius hadn’t called Dumbledore that since their school days. The moment they’d graduated, he’d always been Dumbledore to the man.

Dumbledore didn’t look surprised at all. He smiled warmly. “I suggest you get some sleep tonight, Mr. Black,” he said. “I expect tomorrow will be just as exhausting.”

Sirius hesitated. “Er – here?” he asked. “Upstairs?”

Dumbledore looked confused by the question. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Aberforth has the room,” he said. “However, if you are looking for a place to stay, I’m sure the Potters wouldn’t mind putting you up for the night?” he suggested, glancing at James and Lily. “It would not be the first time, I presume,” the old man sounded amused.

Lily smiled. “We can set the guest room,” she offered, looking at Sirius with a raised eyebrow. Relief flooded through Sirius’s eyes.

“Right. Yeah. Sure.” He said. “That sounds … that sounds good.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Wonderful. I expect I will see you all tomorrow morning.”

Eventually, the four of them left. Remus managed an awkward goodbye, sharing a significant look with Lily that went over James’s head. Then, the three made it back to James and Lily’s cottage, Apparating just outside of the wards, on a dark and empty street. The small house was just as he and Lily had left it that morning, dishes from breakfast still unwashed in the sink and living room slightly untidy from yesterday’s evening, which felt so far in the past it was almost as if it had happened in an entirely separate life. Lily went off to set the guest room and James went put on a pot of tea, Sirius trailing behind him. James’s patience at battle with Sirius’s head.

Eventually, James’s patience won.

“James, I would never – “

“I know,” James cut in. Sirius paused.

“How?” he asked breathlessly. James glanced over in surprise, not expecting that particular question.

James frowned in disapproval. “Sirius, I know you,” he said firmly. “I know you would never betray your friends.”

Sirius’s face did something strange and James replayed his words.

“I have though,” Sirius said quietly. James froze. “I did already – once – and – “ Sirius’s voice choked off. James suddenly understood a lot better why Sirius hadn’t wanted to go home. He let out a breath.

“Sirius that wasn’t – “ he frowned, not sure how to word this. “I’m not excusing what you did,” he said firmly. He wasn’t. That anger was still so easy to remember. Those months when he and Sirius didn’t speak were some of the hardest of his life, but it wasn’t about him. It was never about him. All James could do back then was be there as best he could for Remus. “You fucked up. You know that. But,” James made sure Sirius’s eyes were on him as he continued. “Sirius, it’s not the same thing.”

Sirius frowned. “Isn’t it?” he asked, sounding young.

James shook his head. “No. You made a mistake when you told Snape about the tree,” he said firmly. The two had talked about that night so many times. Not at first. At first, all James could do was yell at Sirius. Yell and push and get even angrier that Sirius didn’t fight back. But that following summer, when Sirius showed up at his house in the middle of the night, soaked to the bone and shaking … They talked about it a lot that summer. He heard Sirius out. He knew his friend had messed up, but he allowed himself, for the first time, to try and understand why.

“He forgave you, Sirius,” James said. “He meant it.”

Sirius looked like he didn’t believe a word James had just said. James sighed.

“You never wanted to hurt Remus,” James tried this time. Sirius was looking down now. “You said that to me, right?” he prompted, off-put by Sirius’s passiveness. Sirius looked up, finally, and nodded.

“Okay,” James said easily. “This isn’t the same.”

Sirius still seemed doubtful, but he stopped arguing, which was fine with James for now. He poured them both a cup of tea, and left an empty mug out for Lily, who he suspected was making herself scarce, giving them time to talk. It was silly, they’d spent the entire day together, but James almost missed her.

“I think we should tell them,” Sirius said without any preamble. James frowned.

“Tell who what?” he asked. Sirius glanced up; his grey eyes hard.

“The Order. Or Dumbledore at least. About Padfoot. About Prongs and Wormtail too, if you guys want. But at least about Padfoot.”

James was completely stunned. “What?” he asked. “Why?”

Sirius looked at him like he was an idiot. “Not, not the reason we became Animagi, obviously,” he rushed to explain, “but that we are. Or at least that I am. If – if I really … well if anything does happen …” Sirius didn’t finish. That was quite fine, James had heard enough.

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. Sirius opened his mouth, but James wasn’t done. “No. That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said this evening so far, and believe me, there’s ample competition.”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s obviously how I got out, James. They must not have known I was an Animagus, and – “

“And what?” James interrupted. No. He was not going to listen to this. “You want to stay in Azkaban for the rest of your life?”

Sirius looked stricken. “I don’t – “ he frowned. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “If I – “

“No,” James shook his head. “You said it yourself. You didn’t do it, right?” Sirius looked guilty.

“I didn’t become a Death Eater,” his best friend said, and the disgust was evident enough in his tone that James didn’t need any other reassurance. James nodded. “But that – technically, according to the book, I was arrested for blowing up a Muggle street.”

James was completely lost. “Yeah, and you’re innocent,” he said.

Sirius looked at him doubtfully. “Am I, James? Do we know that? Sure, I might not be a Death Eater, but you don’t think I could have a curse go wrong? I could lose control of my magic? I was arrested for a reason James – “

James snorted. “Right, because the Ministry never makes mistakes.”

“You work for the bloody Auror’s office James!” Sirius nearly shouted. “You know their protocols!”

James did. Priori Incantantem on the wand. Memories from the witnesses. It was too easy for suspects to taint their own memories with emotion or make up false ones entirely. A trial. A person could submit themselves to veritaserum, though it wouldn’t be able to be used in front of the Council. With practice, most wizards could resist it. James knew the red tape, he tangled and untangled it every day. Azkaban was a horrible place, but hadn’t they just seen in the last book that it was possible to send the wrong person there? How could he not doubt it?

“I – there’s – it’s possible,” James started but it was clear Sirius thought he had won the argument.

“You know I’m right James,” he said sadly. James didn’t know that. Not at all. Sirius shrugged. “We might not have to,” Sirius said. “It may come out in the books anyways.”

James’s heart sank. That seemed far more likely, given Harry’s encounter with the strange dog. James hadn’t recognized the description when Edgar had first read it, but now the coincidences seemed to be lining up. Was it actually Sirius though? Or was it just an omen for things to come?

James sighed. “Probably,” he admitted. Finally, the kitchen door popped open and Lily poked her head in.

“You boys done in here?” she asked. Sirius gave her a weak smile.

“Yeah,” he said softly. He set down his cup of tea and walked over, pausing beside Lily at the door. “I – thank you. I know I might not be your favorite person right now, so I really appreciate – “

Lily cut Sirius off with a hand. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re always my favorite person, Black,” she said easily. “Now get to bed, you look dead on your feet.”

Sirius glanced away, likely trying to hide his wet eyes. Eventually, he made his way out and Lily slipped in, closing the door softly behind her. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat next to James at the table.

Her hand rested on his shoulder and gave a small comforting squeeze. James sighed, closing his eyes and drooping his head forward.

They sat there like that for a while, their tea eventually growing cold. James took both cups and washed them the Muggle way at the sink. It was something he’d been doing more often, since living with Lily, finding it easier sometimes than using his wand. Plus, there was the fact that he often forgot his wand on the first horizontal surface it came into contact with, a fact Moody would have been properly horrified by.

Lily remained seated at the table, watching him work. Finally, when he finished, he turned around, leaning back on the sink, waiting. Lily took a deep breath. “James, I’m going to ask you something, and then that’s going to be it, okay?”

James didn’t like this, but he nodded all the same. “Okay,” he echoed.

Lily looked at him, green eyes intense. “I know you trust Sirius with your life,” she said, and James nodded enthusiastically. Of course, he did. There was no one he trusted more.

“What about with my life?” she asked. James looked at her, surprised.

“You don’t trust him?” he asked. Lily had been Sirius’s only other defender in that room, he hadn’t even considered –

Lily smiled sadly. “Of course, I trust him,” she said. “But I asked you, James. Do you trust him with my life?” she asked steadily. James nodded.

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. Lily pursed her lips.

“With Harry’s?” she asked, quieter. James’s eyes grew wide. His gaze dropped down to Lily’s midsection, like their son might be listening in.

James’s throat felt tight. He knew, he knew what the book said. He didn’t doubt Sybil’s abilities, he didn’t doubt his son’s narration. But he didn’t doubt Sirius. He couldn’t. It was antithetical to his very being.

“I trust him, Lils,” James said simply, searching her eyes. Lily smiled, but it was a little sad.

“Alright,” she said, and she leaned forward, giving him a little kiss. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Even though Fabian Prewett woke up early the next morning, the sweet smell of coffee had already permeated the room. He groaned.

Gideon was a freak. Morning people should be forced to seek psychiatric treatment. Fabian closed his eyes and tried to bury himself back into his pillow trying to catch the remnants of a dream.

When Fabian checked the clock again, it was nearly nine. He shut his eyes, resolving to stay in bed until the hour struck at least, but when he blinked, a pillow smashed into his face, startling him out of bed and sending him scrambling for his wand.

“Up,” Gideon said, grinning impishly, standing in the doorway of his brother’s room. Fabian glared at his brother.

“It’s not even nine yet,” Fabian complained, grabbing the pillow and throwing it back at Gideon, who easily sidestepped it. The pillow hit the wall with a dull thud and fell into the cluttered floor of his room. Fabian liked to pretend there was a method to the madness of his room. Gideon liked the pretend his brother was simply messy. At least he kept it contained from the common space.

“You need to work on your aim,” Gideon said.

“It was a warning shot.” Fabian forced himself to stand, stretching. He’d slept poorly the night before, and his spine crackled with the stiffness of a much older man. Fabian supposed if he was already up, he had the time –

“And it’s almost ten!” Gideon called as he left the room. Fabian’s eyes snapped over to the clock on the wall. Just past a quarter till.

Fabian yelped. “What?!” he shot out of bed, suddenly very much awake. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he asked, annoyed. He scrambled to find a shirt that didn’t smell strange. Fabian’s room was always in a state of dishevelment, something he normally had no problem navigating, but sleep still clung to the corners of his mind. He should have listened to Molly and gotten his own place. Never live with your brother –

“Yeah, because that’s my job,” Gideon called from the kitchen, far too much glee in his voice.

Fabian grumbled all through getting ready, only pausing briefly when Gideon forced a cup of coffee in his hands. Gideon had likely been up for most of the morning already, read newspaper on the kitchen table, his brother’s hair slightly damp from a morning shower. Fabian grumbled as he accepted the drink and tried to shake his hair into something resembling deliberate. The pair Apparated to Hog’s Head with time to spare. They walked in, greeted by a familiar sight.

“Dedalus!” Gideon greeted warmly, spotting the older man at the bar, arguing with the sloppy form of Mundungus Fletcher, who was drinking something in an opaque bottle. The two looked refreshed and well rested, despite likely have gotten in late the prior night. Moody stood next to them, looking them over critically. Dedalus’s neck snapped toward Fabian and his brother as they approached, and the man gave them a tired smile.

“Gid, Fab,” he greeted. “How are you boys holding up?” he asked. Moody’s gaze began to wander the bar in a familiar way. Their old mentor was constantly attentive. The last few years under Moody at the Auror’s office had given Fabian and Gideon alike a healthy dose of caution, and still it was only a fraction of what lurked in Moody’s withering stare.

Mundungus’s eyes flickered over to them and the man gave a suspicious grunt and went back to his drink. Fabian hoped it wasn’t liquor, but the thought seemed hopeless. He wasn’t sure if Mundungus had come to an Order meeting sober yet.

Gideon grimaced. “Did someone fill you in?” he asked wearily. Fabian sighed. He knew his brother, like Fabian himself, had grown attached to their nephews and nieces in the story, and last book hadn’t exactly been … the easiest.

Dedalus nodded. “Dumbledore. When we got in last night,” he said. Moody grunted beside him, likely at the debrief as well. “As much as he could, I suppose.”

Gideon grimaced, his brother’s eyes flickering about the room.

“How did the mission go?” Fabian asked, instead, glancing between the pair. They seemed tired, but otherwise unharmed. Though, that didn’t always mean anything in their line of work.

Dedalus grinned though and Fabian felt relief flow through him. “Good!” the older man said enthusiastically. “We were in – “

“Out of the country!” Moody cut in, still clearly listening in. His beady eyes turned on Dedalus in warning. The other man held up his hands.

“Alright, alright,” Dedalus shrugged. Dedalus was usually talkative, eager to share anything from school yard anecdotes to mission details, but he stopped short at Moody’s warning.

Fabian sighed.

“Hm,” Moody narrowed his eyes. “This is no time to go sharing unnecessary details,” he said gruffly. Dedalus rolled his eyes.

“The mission is over,” he pointed out reasonably. “Besides, it’s only Gid and Fab.”

Moody’s beady eyes turned on the brothers. Moody had personally trained both of them in the Auror’s office, and often chose at least one of them if he was ever on an Order mission himself. But that was exactly why Fabian didn’t feel even a hint of betrayal at the distrust in his old mentor’s gaze.

“If you don’t know who you can trust, you can’t trust anyone,” Moody said darkly, eyes flickering over to some of the younger members who trickled in. James and Lily stood on either side of Sirius Black as he slumped down in his chair at the same table the group had sat at yesterday. Remus and Peter hadn’t yet arrived, but the other members of the Order, even those from their year, seemed too nervous to stray any closer.

Fabian shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, you never trust anyone, anyways, Alastor,” Dedalus said easily, unruffled by the turn in the conversation.

The group talked a little longer before Gideon and Fabian made their way over to a table on their own. By then, the rest of the Order had arrived, Pettigrew was the last to scamper through the Hog’s Head door, looking as if he had run the whole way from his home. Even Elphias had returned, and was warmly greeted by Caradoc, sitting next to the older man. Regulus Black and Snape were led down by Aberforth and made their way to their own seats, the former stopping to talk briefly with Pandora before she handed the book to Dorcas Meadows, who must have already volunteered to read.

“Are we all settled then?” Dumbledore asked, icy blue eyes flickering around the room. Fabian wished he knew what that old man was thinking. The mood in the Hog’s Head was cold, quiet, suspicion sharp in the air. Dumbledore took his place next to McGonagall and Dorcas cracked open the book.

“Chapter Four,” she read in a crisp sharp voice. Fabian tried to shake the feeling that the words were seeping into the fissures already growing between the Order, cracking their foundation. “The Leaky Cauldron.”

“It took Harry several says to get used to his strange new freedom. … But the thing that tested Harry’s resolution most appeared in his favorite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a week after he’d arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Fabian watched a smile grow on James and Lily’s face as Harry described the freedom of living alone in Diagon Alley. Clearly not ideal, it was loads better than where Harry had been previously, and he clearly was making the most of the freedom. To Fabian, though, he couldn’t help but think it sounded lonely.

Maybe that was only because he had always had Gideon by his side, even now that they were seven years out of Hogwarts, still living together in a flat in London, but Fabian couldn’t imagine having to fill his days without the company of his brother.

“Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry edged his way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until he glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom he had ever seen in his life. … THE FIREBOLT.”

Fabian smiled, glancing over at James, expecting him to be drawn like a moth to the light at this, as he was with every other Quidditch related thing in the book, but the other boy was just sat back in his chair. He was at least paying attention, but his eyes were distant, trying to see something that wasn’t there.

Fabian didn’t know what to make of it, to be honest. Truthfully, he didn’t want to think about anyone in the Order being a traitor. But it was time to face the music, as it went. There was someone leaking information, it had happened twice. That meant it was more than a misspoken word, or an accidental slip. It was intention. Fabian had seen enough in his short time as an Auror to at least wonder how willing the information slip was, but it was a slip of information, nonetheless. And if it was an accident, no one had come forward to own up to a mistake. That stunk of purpose.

Fabian’s eyes dragged to Sirius Black. He had been inclined to give the other man the benefit of the doubt in the beginning, regarding his name. After all, Fabian was a pureblood himself. The Prewetts were neutral, but he had an aunt who was once a Black, and aunt he shared with Sirius Black, ironic enough. He knew Sirius had run away from his home while the boy was still in school, and he was inclined to think that had been for the better.

But Fabian would be a fool if he didn’t think it was possible. They needed to consider the possibility – and at this point, it seemed to be turning into more of a probability. No one was sitting here questioning Sybil’s skills as a Seer, no one was launching theories about her being wrong about any of the other things the books had claimed true – Snape’s employment at Hogwarts, Quirrell’s involvement with the Stone. Their deaths.

Everything taken with utter confidence but this – like they couldn’t admit to themselves that anyone in the room might be the traitor. Fabian shook his head, Moody’s vigilance training sticking in his mind like a bramble in a Kneazle’s paw.

Fabian’s eyes slid to his brother. Well, not anyone in the room, he qualified. And was that what this was? Why James was so insistent that the book was wrong. Why the only other person who seemed to immediately and wholeheartedly agree with him had been Regulus Black of all people, who wasn’t exactly playing for the right side to begin with? Fabian knew Gideon wasn’t the traitor as surely as he knew he himself wasn’t. So perhaps it wasn’t anyone that was the suspect. Surely, he could narrow down the pool.

Fabian shook his head out. He hated this. He hated this entire thing.

“State-of-the-art racing broom sports streamlined, superfine handle of ash, treated with diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number. … Price on request.”

Marlene let out a low whistle. “Damn,” she said, shooting James a wry smile. “That’s got to only be available in professional leagues.”

James seemed to make an effort to respond. “I dunno. What do you reckon the Firebolt does? 125? They might allow it for amateur play.”

Marlene grinned, happy to have gotten James to engage. “You’re only saying that because you want Harry to ride it.”

James’s smile was a little more natural this time. “My son’s getting that broom, McKinnon. Just you wait.”

“Price on request. … ‘I need Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky.’”

Pandora’s eyebrow rose at that and she shot a look toward her sister, who seemed mildly interested in Harry’s Divination book. Was Trelawney hired in this version of the future as well? How would they know when they managed to change the future? And it was, of course, a when, not an if. It would never be an if.

“’Ah, starting Divination, are you?’ … ‘Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming.”

Lily groaned. “Could Harry stop looking at books about death please? This boy is going to give me a heart attack and I haven’t even gone through labor for him yet.”

Fabian chuckled good-naturedly. Truthfully, his nieces and nephews were giving him similar palpitations.

“’Oh, I wouldn’t read that if I were you.’ … Harry continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes.”

Strange enough, several eyes from his table turned to Sirius Black, who looked shocked himself. James, Peter, Remus, even Lily, were looking at him, though no one else seemed to find this significant.

“It looked oddly familiar. … ‘It can’t have been a death omen.’ He told his reflection defiantly. … ‘It was probably just a stray dog.’”

This time, the look Sirius shot James was one of guilt. James pursed his lips.

“He raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat. … Ron looking incredible freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him.”

Fabian let out a sigh as Harry reunited with his friends, and at the mention of the only nephew he had yet to meet.

“’Finally!’ … ‘Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?’ ‘Probably ‘cause it’s you, isn’t it?’”

There was a low grumble from Snape that in the previous book, James might have let slide. But now, his head whipped around, his gaze darkening. “I don’t think we need your commentary now or ever.”

Snape rolled his eyes but fell silent, clearly knowing he wasn’t likely to find an ally in that argument.

“’Famous Harry Potter and all that. … ‘Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies – ‘”

Fabian’s eyebrows flew up. “She can’t possibly be taking all those during the year, can she?” he asked. His brother frowned.

“Normally, extra subjects would be completed during summer classes. Maybe there are evening classes being offered this year?” he asked, glancing toward the front of the room. Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a significant look.

“There are no plans at this time to make evening classes available,” was all McGonagall said, though it seemed like she was answering the question rather carefully.

“’What are you doing Muggle Studies for?’ … Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, … ‘NO CROOKSCHANKS, NO!’”

Fabian winced. Might not have been the best idea to bring Ron’s pet rat into the Magical Creatures store, especially if there were regular cats around. It was clear that Ron cared for the rat, even if Fabian shuttered at the idea of bringing one into his dorm, much less letting it run free. He’d never been particularly fond of rodents.

“’Scabbers!’ … Her arms were clamped tightly around the enormous ginger cat.”

Lily’s face went fond. “Ah, she’s a cat girl too!” Lily said and James smiled over at her.

“You know I heard Bathilda’s cat is pregnant again, going to have a full litter in a few weeks,” he said. Lily’s eyes immediately lit up.

“The tawny?” she asked excitedly, and James laughed as an answer.

“Oh, we’ll have to go over to see them!” she said.

“Just to look?” James teased and Lily shot him a guilty smile.

“Well, we’ll go over to look. We’ll see what happens when we get there.”

“’You bought that monster?’ … Harry saw the now-familiar picture of Sirius Black staring up at him.”

The temperature in the bar seemed to drop at the mention of Sirius again. The boy in question’s face soured.

“’They still haven’t caught him, then?’ … ‘It’s the Azkaban guard who’ll get him back, you mark my words.’”

Sirius shivered at the mention of the dementors. Frankly, Fabian could relate. As a part of Auror training, second years were taken to the prison, given a tour, if one could call it that. Fabian still had nightmares about the place.

“At that moment, Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; … ‘Simply splendid to see you old boy – ‘ ‘Marvelous.’”

Fabian smiled at the twins’ jokes, even though they were at the expense of their brother. As much at the three seemed to squabble, Fabian could recognize the tell-tale signs of siblings from anywhere.

“’Absolutely spiffing.’ … ‘The Ministry’s providing a couple of cars.’ … ‘Why?’”

Fabian frowned at that. Surely it wasn’t for Harry. Of course, Fabian understood that Harry might have been an important figure in the Wizarding World, and the Ministry might be concerned with not putting him in the papers too much, or perhaps preserving their image when it came to making sure he was done right by, but cars seemed a bit much. After all, the Weasleys had driven Harry and the rest of them to King’s Cross on their own the previous year and sure that hadn’t gone great, but that wasn’t because of the cars.

“Everyone looked up at him. … ‘ – for Humongous Bighead,’ said George.”

Remus was the one this time that smiled fondly, shooting a knowing look at James who was shaking his head. Fabian thought that particular group of Gryffindors had probably gotten a kick out of their friend being named Head Boy. Fabian knew that James was smart, a brilliant wizard, but he certainly wasn’t one for playing by the rules, much less enforcing them.

“Everyone except Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted into their pudding. … ‘… makes no sense not to tell him,’ Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly.”

Fabian felt a chill down his spine as Harry stumbled across this conversation. Clearly, he was not meant to overhear it, but Fabian had a sinking feeling in his stomach about what his sister and her husband might be discussing.

“’Harry’s got a right to know.’”

At this, James and Lily’s heads both snapped up.

“’I’ve tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child.’ … ‘I don’t want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!’”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Remus said quietly, shooting a worried look at Lily and James. Great, thought Fabian. It seemed Harry was incapable of having a normal year at that school.

“’You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves – they’ve even ended up in the Forbidden Forest!’ … ‘Molly, they say Sirius Black’s mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that’s supposed to be impossible.’”

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought. He had to hand it to Arthur, Fabian hadn’t even considered that. Twelve years in Azkaban was more than enough to drive anyone mad, but Sirius had still escaped. That, at least, wasn’t up for debate. He was out there, and if Fabian understood correctly, Arthur expected him to be coming after Harry.

From the dumbfounded looks on both James and Sirius’s face, they hadn’t quite put this part together yet.

“’It’s been a month, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of him,’ … ‘The only thing we know for sure is what Black’s after – ‘ ‘But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts.”

“They are not implying what I think they are implying,” Lily said, voice hard, though if she was mad at Sirius or at the implication, Fabian didn’t know.

Sirius was shaking his head. “I would never. That’s – that’s ridiculous,” he said.

“Pads, we know,” James cut in. “This whole thing is ridiculous. That’s the point.”

“Is it?” Dedalus said thoughtfully from the bar. James’s head snapped toward him and the older man raised his hands. “I’m not saying one way or the other, I’m only asking how outlandish we truly think it is,” he said, shooting an apologetic look at Sirius as if he hadn’t just accused him of being a traitor.

“Completely,” James said forcefully.

“We all know your opinion on it, boy,” Moody said gruffly, and Fabian winced at that. Demoted back down to ‘boy,’ he thought. Harsh on James.

Fabian had learned quickly during his Auror training that Moody’s opinion of you could change quickly on how trusting or vigilant you were at all times. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that he read James’s unshakable belief for his friend as a sign of weakness. Expect everything, not just the unexpected.

“Point is, someone in here is leaking secrets,” Moody reminded everyone, and the room seemed to grow uncomfortable at the thought.

“Well why don’t we just ask the Death Eaters in the room?” Marlene suggested suddenly, shooting a look of expectancy to the front, where Regulus Black and Snape sat, quiet spectators up until that point. Snape glared back.

“Like we would ever tell you,” he sneered. Next to him, Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Neither of us know,” the younger boy corrected. “Voldemort doesn’t go around having weekly meetings,” he gestured around to the bar. “He likes to keep things compartmentalized. No one knows all of something until it’s too late to do anything.”

That … actually made a lot of sense. It explained why so much of their own information was incomplete and seemingly irrelevant. Dumbledore was nodding thoughtfully at this, as was Moody, who suspicious eyes stayed trained on Regulus, as if wondering why exactly the boy had been so willing to share that piece of information. Truthfully, why he’d been so willing to share any information with them throughout this.

Snape was glaring at Regulus Black, looking ready to cut the younger boy’s tongue out.

“I expect we’ll find out more by reading the book,” Pandora nudged gently, smiling at Dorcas expectantly.

“’We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe.’ … ‘The guards told Fudge that Black’s been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: ‘He’s at Hogwarts … he’s at Hogwarts.’’”

Sirius paled at not only the description of how he was acting, but at the seeming confirmation that he truly might be going after Harry. A few more eyes around the room began to eye Sirius suspiciously.

“’Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power.’”

Regulus snorted at this, rolling his eyes. Truthfully, Fabian thought that was a little far-fetched, but it didn’t seem like everyone shared his belief. Of course, if Sirius really had spent twelve years in Azkaban, perhaps there was some form of twisted logic he was following. Fabian shivered at the thought.

“’Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he’s had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…’”

“Harry didn’t stop Voldemort, though,” Remus said, almost reflexively. His tone made him sound almost defensive, though the other boy seemed as surprised by his words as everyone else in the room. Marlene frowned.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “The first chapter of the first book talked about this,” she trailed off expectantly. Remus sighed, glancing over at Lily almost apologetically.

“I mean, obviously we know that a one-year old boy didn’t stop Voldemort that night. Something … else must have happened.”

Dorcas sat forward, immediately understanding. “You mean something James and Lily did,” she said. Everyone’s eyes seemed to snap to the pair, who held strong under the scrutiny.

“Do you …” Emmeline asked, leaning forward with a bit of desperation. Lily was already shaking her head.

“No idea. Nothing more than what the book has hinted at. Surely,” Lily went a little green. “Surely we’ll hear more about what happened that night,” she said remarkably calmly given that she was talking about her own death. Others in the room seemed to pick up this implication and let the topic go.

For now.

“There was a silence. … ‘We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds.’”

Caradoc sat forward. “Surely he doesn’t mean what I think he does.”

Edgar grimaced. “If Sirius did truly escape Azkaban,” he glanced at the table Sirius sat and corrected, “if anyone escaped Azkaban, that would probably be Ministry protocol. And if the Ministry had reason to believe the convict would head towards Hogwarts. Well…” he trailed off, but everyone could finish the thought.

Dumbledore looked unhappy at the thought, but Dorcas continued reading.

“’He wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed.’ … The badge now read Bighead Boy.”

Fabian smiled softly, glad, it seemed that Fred and George were still trying to make Harry smile.

“Harry forced a laugh, … ‘I’m not going to be murdered,’ … ‘That’s the spirit dear,’ said his mirror sleepily.”

Lily sighed. “Oh, I wish he would stop saying that.”

“He’s being positive,” James tried to point out, but Lily gave him a flat look. James sighed.

“I can read next, Cas,” Marlene offered, taking the book from her girlfriend. The choppy blonde flipped the book to the next page, taking a deep breath.

“Chapter Five, The Dementor.”

Chapter Text

If Remus’s heart were to sink any lower, it would fall out of him and onto the floor. And yet, all Remus could feel about that was a strange sort of apathy that one only found when one’s world had been turned completely upon its head. It seemed like any hope that Harry wouldn’t have a run in with the Azkaban guards had just evaporated. It seemed Harry’s luck would continue to be rotten through this book as well.

Lily’s freckled face scrunched miserably. “Great. Just great,” she said tiredly. They had barely started the reading for the day, and already Harry was likely to encounter a Dementor.

Next to her, Remus didn’t miss Sirius’s look of absolute guilt. He thought about what the other man had said yesterday, while Remus wallowed in guilt about the Weeping Willow endangering Harry. It’s not your fault.

Remus met Sirius’s grey eyes. Words lodged in his throat like bile. He couldn’t force any out.

Sirius glanced away.

Remus swallowed shakily. Did he really think that Sirius was capable of this? The thought covered everything in Remus’s mind, like sheets draped over the furniture of a dead man. Capable of …being a traitor? Becoming a Death Eater? It made Remus feel sick even thinking it. He couldn’t even imagine a world. Then again, at one point, Remus couldn’t imagine a world where Sirius betrayed him. Sent someone to him on a full moon. Told someone his secret.

Wasn’t that world this world? How outlandish was it really? Fool me once shame on you but fool me twice … Remus squeezed his eyes shut. He was tired of feeling like a fool and since leaving Hogwarts, Remus had felt little but.

Was it beyond the realm of possibility that Sirius might lose control over a spell? Might kill …no. Remus didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to stamp the thoughts out of his mind. He wanted to have never read this book. He wanted to be wrong.

Remus wanted to be a fool.

“Tom woke Harry the next morning with his usual toothless grin and a cup of tea.” Marlene started and Remus tried to focus on the story. There was no point in guessing. They would find out soon enough through the books. “Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, … ‘I’ll go through first with Harry.’”

It was silly, but Remus held his breath as Harry made his way toward the barrier. There was no reason to think it would happen again, but he couldn’t help but fear Harry would crash into it.

“Mr. Weasley strolled through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry’s trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. … ‘Harry,’ said Mr. Weasley quietly, ‘come over here a moment.’”

James let out a sigh. “He’s telling him,” he said, sounding relieved.

“You want him to?” Remus asked, a bit confused. Remus wasn’t sure if he thought Harry was better off knowing. He wished the boy would have a normal year for once, and he was worried that this would cause him to go looking for trouble, rather than keep him out of it. But James looked over at him surprised.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” he asked. Remus frowned.

“Well, sure,” he replied, and James shrugged easily, like that settled it. Remus wasn’t certain. He might wantto, but did that mean he ought to? Wasn’t the sharing of information one of the reasons they were in this mess? Ignorance wasn’t just bliss, sometimes it was safety too.

“He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Harry followed behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley. … ‘Harry, swear to me that you won’t go looking for Black.’”

At that, both Sirius and James’s heads shot up in unison, twice looks of confusion on their faces. Sometimes, it was eerie how similar the two were.

Remus grimaced at the thought.

“Why would he go looking for Sirius?” Fabian asked tentatively, as if unsure whether or not he wanted to broach the topic. Sirius just shook his head, clearly perplexed. Sure, Harry was a Gryffindor, but he still had some common sense. And when that lacked, he had Hermione.

No one seemed to have an answer, and after a beat, Marlene continued.

“Harry stared. … ‘Swear to me that whatever you might hear – ‘”

Remus’s stomach dropped. There was more. Of course, there was more to the story, but what in the world would be a part of that story that would make Harry want to go after Sirius? Remus’s didn’t want to wonder. Didn’t want to think about it, but he saw James’s jaw clench next to him and the dazed look in Peter’s eyes and Remus wanted to scream. Hollowly, Remus recalled the vicious certainty he’d felt when he’d learned of James and Lily’s death. That he would never let it happen. That they would be ready for whatever was to come.

Now, Remus felt like he was in free fall.

“’Arthur, quickly!’ … The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard robes that had been darned in several places.”

Remus frowned. He knew that in theory the Hogwarts Express was as open as any other train to Hogsmeade, but usually adult witches and wizards avoided taking it on September 1st for this very reason.

“Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray. ‘Who d’you reckon he is?’ Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.” Marlene stopped reading, eyes blowing wide and when she looked up, she stared right at Remus. “No way,” she said with a smile. “’Professor R. J. Lupin.’” She read.

Remus’s mouth dropped open.

“What?” Sirius asked, and for the first time since the start of the book, there was an excited lilt to his tone. His eyes flashed to Remus, gleaming.

“Professor,” James said, smiling as well. “Brilliant!”

Lily gave him a fond smile, the worry lines from her face vanishing. “I think you’ll make an excellent teacher, Remus,” she said kindly.

“Easily the best the kids have had so far,” Dorcas added across the bar with a smile of her own. The room was starting to stir to life again.

Remus could hardly believe the words, taking another moment to try and digest them. All while growing up, he couldn’t imagine himself having a job, knowing that his condition prevented nearly every avenue of employment. At best, he could find something temporary in the Muggle world, and at worst. Remus could hardly bear to think about at worst.

Professor. It was ridiculous. Remus’s eyes darted over to the only person he could think of insane enough to suggest it. The only person senseless enough to offer a young werewolf a place at a boarding school for wizards. Dumbledore’s soft blue gaze only watched the book in Marlene’s hands pleasantly, as if there was nothing surprising about this revelation at all.

“’How d’you know that?’ … ‘Wonder what he teaches?’”

“Must be Defense Against the Dark Arts,” James said eagerly. “You were always the best at the Moons.” James nudged Remus’s shoulder and Remus tried to force a smile onto his twitching lips. He could see the desperate fort of excitement James looked at him with and Remus couldn’t bear to shatter it.

He felt Sirius’s eyes watching him closely and Remus tried to dare himself to look back.

“’That’s obvious.’ … ‘He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn’t he?’”

Fabian actually shot Remus an apologetic look at Ron’s comment, but Remus just threw his head back and laughed. Something cracked in his chest and he allowed the feeling to flow through him.

“I kind of hope you actually are asleep, Remus,” Gideon said with a smile. Remus shook his head warmly.

“’Anyway …’ … ‘Trouble usually finds me.’”

Lily grumbled under her breath at that assessment.

“’How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?’ … ‘And he was a top security prisoner too.’”

Remus flinched at that, and he could see the implication sink in for others. Next to him, Sirius went stiff and Remus’s hand twitched as he fought the instinct to reach over. He wasn’t sure Sirius would appreciate the gesture. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach the gesture. Top security prisoners were housed in the highest parts of the prison, patrolled almost exclusively by Dementors.

“’But they’ll catch him, won’t they?’ … A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry’s robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron’s hand and glowing brilliantly.”

“Rubbish,” Gideon commented disdainfully. Most of the Order seemed to agree with the assessment but Remus could feel a pair of eyes dart his way. Unable to stop himself, Remus glanced back.

Remus felt himself go cold, staring into Sirius’s eyes. He could think of one reason the device was alerting Harry to danger, and it was because a monster was asleep next to him. Remus glanced away, shrinking down on himself.

“’Is that a Sneakoscope?’ … ‘Stick it back in the trunk … or it’ll wake him up.’”

Remus suspected it already had, if he wasn’t awake already. Even without heightened werewolf senses, Remus was usually a light sleeper, save around full moons, when he was too exhausted to stay awake.

“He nodded toward Professor Lupin. … They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff.’”

Gideon frowned. “It’s an interesting idea for a product, though. Perhaps some variant of veritaserum, but in a proximity rune?”

Emmeline shrugged. “Or just something that would generally pick up nerves or guilt. Maybe a form of Legilimency?”

“’Fred and George told me.’ … ‘I just want to get inside Honeydukes!’”

Against his will it seemed, James smiled. Perhaps remembering all the times the four of them wandered the small town at the foot of the hill. Remus glanced out the window now. Dervish and Banges was just a street over, Honeydukes on the corner. It was all so close and yet it felt impossibly far away.

“’What’s that?’ … ‘… the Shrieking Shack’s supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain – ‘”

Remus’s heart stuttered.

“’ – and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you’re sucking them.’ … ‘The Dursleys didn’t sign my permission from, and Fudge wouldn’t either.’”

Remus pursed his lips. He knew that Harry was upset, but Remus couldn’t help but wonder if it was perhaps for the best. He could tell by the anxious glances of a few others that they felt similarly.

“Ron looked horrified. … ‘ – or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out the castle – ‘”

James shot a grin at Sirius, clearly thinking of the Marauder’s Map the four of them had made. James had unfortunately gotten it nicked in their seventh year by Filch. Remus struggled to feel some fondness at the memory but all he could focus on was the deep pit in his stomach, growing larger as the readings went on. How could James sit there, so adamant and unshakable in his beliefs and how come Remus couldn’t just stop thinking about it. Could barely look over and meet the silver gaze that flickered his way? Could barely move or breath without his stomach churning uncomfortably? James was far from an idiot, as much as he and Lily liked to tease. How was he so sure when Remus was anything but?

It’s because Sirius has never betrayed James, a horrible voice Remus hadn't heard since the spring of 1975 whispered in his mind.

Yet.

Sirius had never betrayed James, yet.

“’Ron!’ … ‘Black wouldn’t dare – ‘”

Sirius’s jaw tightened again at his mention in the story.

“’Oh Ron, don’t talk that rubbish,’ … Ron was about to answer back when Professor Lupin stirred.”

Remus stiffened, unsure what to expect from his presence in the story.

“They watched him apprehensively, but he simply turned his head the other way, mouth slightly open, and slept on.”

Something like comprehension settling in Remus’s mind and Sirius’s eyes flickered over to him, knowingly. It must have been just after a full moon, with how soundly Remus was sleeping.

“The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. … ‘Excuse me – Professor?’ He didn’t move.”

James snorted softly. “Guess not much has changed, huh, Moony?” James said fondly.

“’Don’t worry, dear.’ … ‘Potty and the Weasel.’”

James rolled his eyes, looking more annoyed than actually angry at the boy’s words.

“Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly. … ‘Did your mother die of shock?’”

Gideon and Fabian both scowled at the book as Draco’s comments turned toward Ron.

“Ron stood up so quickly he knocked Crookshank’s basket to the floor. … ‘New teacher.’ … ‘What were you saying Malfoy?’”

Remus chuckled softly as Harry used his presence to get rid of the younger Malfoy, feeling distinctly like it was the first useful thing he had done in the books so far.

“Malfoy’s pale eyes narrowed; … The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.”

Remus frowned. It was a bit difficult to determine how much time had passed due to the nature of the book, but it till seemed too soon to have already arrived at Hogwarts. Perhaps more time had passed than he had initially thought.

“’Great.’ … The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks.”

Lily frowned.

“An attack?” Emmeline asked, worriedly. There had been fear of an attack by the Death Eaters on the Hogwarts Express for a few years, but surely that wouldn’t happen now. The Death Eaters should be long gone, even if all of them hadn’t been rounded up. Even if all of them haven’t been imprisoned.

At that thought, Remus’s traitorous mind turned to his friend. His best friend? Sirius. His … something. Sitting next to them. Worried expression on his face. Remus wasn’t sure what to believe, what to think. He didn’t think he could trust himself. Couldn’t trust himself on who to trust.

“Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.”

James’s eyes darted around, as if looking for an explanation. They fell almost naturally on Caradoc who had a grim expression on his face.

“Oh no,” Gideon muttered, glancing at Caradoc himself. Several eyes darted towards him, waiting for an explanation. The red-head swallowed nervously.

“Dementors,” Gideon said gravely. “They can extinguish light sources. The train …”

He trailed off but everyone seemed to get it.

“They let Dementors on the train?” Alice was horrified. Marlene rushed to continue.

“’What’s going on?’ … ‘I think people are coming aboard…’”

“Surely they wouldn’t let the Dementors on with the students?” Benjy said, sitting forward nervously. No one seemed willing to answer. Willing to face the truth. There was little letting Dementors do anything.

“The compartment door suddenly opened, and someone fell painfully over Harry’s legs. … ‘Hullo, Neville.’”

Alice sucked in a breath; eyes wide with fear at her son’s mention in the story.

“’Harry?’ … ‘Quiet!’ said a hoarse voice suddenly.”

Remus felt a chill, knowing this was him speaking. Instead of the rush of relief he usually felt when Harry was around an adult, Remus’s nerves spiked high.

“Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. … Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, grey face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.”

Sirius turned to him, looking sad though Remus had barely any time to process the emotion.

Moody glanced at him as well, impressed. “Not bad wandless magic,” the old Auror huffed.

“’Stay where you are.’ … Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin’s hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling.”

James sucked in a sharp breath and Remus felt himself go cold. The bar seemed to freeze over at the description, like a Dementor had been conjured from the page and was in the room with them that very moment.

“Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. … It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart …”

“It sounds like it’s feeding from him,” Caradoc sounded horrified at the prospect. Before anyone could let that thought settle, Marlene continued.

“Harry’s eyes rolled up into his head. … And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams.”

Alice sucked in a sharp breath at the description.

“Who’s screaming?” Remus heard himself asking, desperate. He remembered a bit from Dementors from Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he didn’t remember their presence being painful.

Caradoc looked grim. “It could – it’s possible there are no screams,” the man said nonsensically.

“He wanted to help whoever it was, he tricked to move his arms, but he couldn’t … Harry opened his eyes.”

Lily let out a deep breath, green eyes looking wild. Remus wished he knew what to say, to assuage her fears, but he felt useless at the prospect.

“There were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking - … ‘No one screamed.”

Remus went cold, eyes darting to Caradoc, who just seemed sad at the confirmation. No one asked him to explain further.

“Harry looked around the bright compartment. … Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.”

Emmeline smiled, glancing at him fondly. “You know your remedies,” she said. Remus struggled to return the look. Years spent waking up with Madame Pomfrey had left him with more than a passable knowledge on basic medicines, though he doubted Emmeline or anyone here would appreciate the reason behind that particular source of knowledge.

“’Here.’ … He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.”

Remus grimaced, wondering what his potential future self was thinking, sitting next to Harry on the train. Had he ever checked in on the boy? Tried to go and see him? Remus could feel his heart sink lower as he thought more about why he in particular would be barred from seeking Harry out. Suddenly, he couldn’t force himself to meet Lily or James’s eyes.

“’Are you sure you’re okay, Harry?’ … ‘You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching – ‘”

Lily gasped in horror.

“Why did the Dementor affect him so much?” Sirius asked desperately, glancing around the room and looking for an answer.

“It is strange,” Caradoc admitted slowly. He glanced over at Elphias, who had been quiet for the most part during the story. The old man sat at the bar, looking somewhat engaged, despite his eyes drooping occasionally.

“Dementors tend to pick up on trauma,” Elphias said slowly as everyone turned to him. Caradoc nodded slowly at the confirmation. Next to Remus, Lily frowned.

“That’s it?” she asked, voice sharp. “You’re just saying my son is more affected because he’s more traumatized?” Lily’s question was scathing, and she did little to keep the doubt from her voice.

Caradoc looked troubled but he didn’t seem to have an answer. It seemed like the older man might have been just as confused by the Dementor’s actions as anyone else.

“’And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand. … so Lupin muttered something and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away …’”

“A Patronus,” Emmeline sighed, nodding in approval. “Good.”

Remus felt a little jolt of surprise when his Patronus was mentioned. It was a spell that Remus had never been particularly comfortable with. For a long time, he’d struggled to find a memory powerful enough to channel one. When he’d eventually found one … Remus glanced over at Sirius, who was staring back at him. Remus wondered, oddly detached, what memory his older self had used in that moment. Because he was sure it wasn’t the same.

The faint taste of fire whiskey. Warm lips on his own. New Years Day, 1977.

Remus thought of the silvery wolf that so often burst forth from the tip of his wand and he could almost feel the beast curling up in his chest, teeth and claws digging fiercely into his heart. Remus felt like he could hardly breathe.

“’It was horrible.’ … ‘Ginny was shaking like mad though …’”

Gideon frowned worriedly, siting forward.

“Harry didn’t understand. … Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?”

Remus shook his head. “Oh, it has nothing to do with strength,” he said sadly, wishing the other version of him would have stuck around to reassure Harry. He had a suspicion that he just couldn’t stand to be in the same compartment with the boy. Too similar to all those rides to Hogwarts with James by his side.

“Professor Lupin had come back. … ‘Are you all right, Harry?’”

Remus breathed in relief this time.

“Harry didn’t ask how Professor Lupin knew his name. … Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.”

It took a moment to realize what Harry was describing and when he did, he felt a strange emotion flicker inside him. Nearly everyone throughout his days in Hogwarts grew to see Thestrals, the skeleton horses that grazed in the Forbidden Forest during the year. It was a side effect of the war, of course. But here, at least they had managed to raise a generation ignorant of such trauma.

Warmth flooded through him and he could see others in the room exchange hopeful looks. As terrible of a future these books were painting, at least they had this.

“The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. … ‘Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?’”

Alice sent an apologetic look Lily’s way, but the other girl only waived her off. Remus was sure that Neville hadn’t actually told Malfoy. The other boy probably overheard others talking about it.

“Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry’s way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously. … Professor Lupin had just gotten out of the next carriage.”

Lily shot him a grateful smile Remus didn’t think he deserved at all and Marlene looked at him, impressed.

“Well, well, Professor Lupin,” she teased good-naturedly.

“Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase. … ‘Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!’”

James looked at McGonagall in shock. “What? He’s not done anything wrong!” James defended immediately. McGonagall gave him a stern look.

“Why do you think it’s for something bad, Mr. Potter?” she asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. … ‘There’s no need to look so worried – ‘”

James shot McGonagall a comically guilty look, as if they were still boys back in school.

“’I just want a word in my office.’ … ‘I suppose you’ve been doing something dangerous again?’”

James put a hand on his chest, looking offended on behalf of his son.

Remus snorted, before he could stop himself.

“Not an unfair assumption there, Prongs,” Remus said, feeling like himself for the first time that day. James shot him a blazing grin.

“’It was a dementor, Poppy.’ … ‘So we’ve finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?’”

Remus felt warmth spreading through his chest again at the praise. The older Hogwarts nurse had always been kind to him, and after all his stays in her Hospital Wing, he was bound to pick up something.

“’Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?’ … ‘Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the fest together.’”

Remus frowned, sure that this meant McGonagall would make the other girl chose which classes she truly wanted to take. He hoped the older witch allowed Hermione to take the others during the summer, as was sometime offered. It was more rare that Muggleborns got the opportunity, with the Statute of Secrecy often preventing practical application, but surely they could work something out for the girl.

“Harry went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the Hospital wing, muttering to herself. … ‘They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds.’”

Remus lifted an eyebrow. That seemed excessive to him but he could see others around the room exchanging solemn glances.

“’And while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave the school without permission. … ‘Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks.’”

Remus felt shock travel down his spin and James whipped his head over to their old Headmaster, eyes wide. It seemed Dumbledore in the book was not quite as ignorant of the Cloak as this one had at least presented himself to be.

“’It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleasing or excuses.’ … ‘I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.’”

“Two?” Marlene repeated, blonde eyebrow climbing up her face.

“’First, Professor Lupin,’ … It was beyond anger: It was loathing.”

Remus felt himself shrink, knowing exactly the look that Harry was picking up on. Remus kept his eyes trained on the floor and luckily, no one in the room commented on the description.

“It was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry.”

Lily’s head snapped up at that and Remus felt her stiffen.

“’As to our second new appointment,’ … ‘However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who had agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties. No way,” Marlene broke into a grin, glancing up.

“Of course, now the Monster book makes sense,” James said with a chuckle.

“Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. … He always had trouble remembering the passwords.”

Remus winced sympathetically.

“Through the portrait hole and across the common room, the girls and boys divided towards their separate staircases. … Harry, looking around, felt he was at home at last.” Marlene finished. “That’s where the chapter ends,” she said, glancing up.

“I can ready next,” Dedalus offered after a brief beat and Marlene hastily turned the book over to him, clearly ready to be rid of it. Remus tried not to eye how much was left still to read, and then of course, after this book, there were still four more. Remus thought back to Edgar’s warning about messing with time and couldn’t help but wonder what they were playing at. Remus glanced at the front of the room, where Sybil and Pandora sat stoically. It was only because he was looking did, he see the former’s face freeze as the next chapter was read out.

“Chapter Six,” Dedalus said cheerily. “Talons and Tea Leaves.”

Chapter Text

Sybil Trelawney’s mind was a din of shouting voices. Most of them were her own.

Her heart was thrumming in her chest, though it always seemed to these days. As if she were perpetually standing on the edge of a precipice, leaning a bit too far forward, a breath away from falling off.

Sybil’s desperate grip on her sanity was fraying and she knew that her sister could see it. It seemed like the harder she held on, the more she dug her nails in, the only thing she seemed to be accomplishing was shredding the fragile remains of her psyche.

Trelawneys had been going mad for centuries. Sybil’s grandmother said it was the price they paid for their ability to see. Sybil’s mother used to say it was just another part of their curse. At least, she would say that when she was still saying things that made sense.

Sybil glanced over at her sister. She and Pandora had once laughed about that so called curse. Had once scoffed at the addled mind of their grandmother, hid from the ravings of their mother. Neither of the girls were laughing now. The eerie sense of dread settled over Sybil as the name of the next chapter rang out. Sybil breath felt hot on her face, the floorboards groaned beneath her shaking foot. Sybil tried to shake the distinct feeling she was sealing herself inside her own coffin the more they read.

Pandora’s blue eyes darted over and Sybil glanced away.

“When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day,” Dedalus read, reedy voice settling into a rhythm. “the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. … ‘Just ignore him, it’s not worth it …’”

James glared furiously at the book.

“’Hey Potter!’ … ‘Came running into our compartment, didn’t he, Fred?’”

Marlene shook her head in disgust.

“’Nearly wet himself.’ … ‘Forget it, Harry.’ … ‘Most of the prisoners go mad in there.’”

Fabian was smiling at the book, seeming proud of his nephews for trying to distract Harry from the Slytherin boy’s teasing, regardless of the subject matter.

Sybil was familiar with madness, voices in your head. She glanced at the older Black in the room, imagining him for a moment as a dog, chasing his tail for eternity, damned to the fate of his namesake. Sybil tried to shake off the image.

“’Anyway, we’ll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match.’”

James smiled weakly at this, as if trying to get his footing back in the story.

“Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?’ … ‘Look – they’ve got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn’t enough time.’”

Remus frowned in confusion, exchanged glances with Lily. Across the room, Edgar raised an eyebrow at Minerva and Albus.

“’I’ll manage.’ … ‘That’s south, look, you can see a bit of the lake out of the window …’”

Emmeline sighed. “I swear the moment you learn your way around Hogwarts it’s time for graduation,” the woman said, shaking her head. There was a fond smile on her face.

“Could have used a map of the place, myself,” Marlene added with a grin. Sybil glanced over at the group in the middle, exchanging knowing glances, for a moment, released from the tension of the book.

“Harry was watching the painting. … Sybil Trelawney, Divination teacher.’”

Even though Sybil knew her own role in these books, she jumped at the mention. There were some spotted glances her way, but it seemed most had already come to expect her appearance. Sybil resisted the urge to glance once more at her sister, and willed Dedalus to continue the reading.

“’How’re we supposed to get up there?’ … ‘How nice to see you in the physical world at last.’”

This time, Sybil saw Pandora raise an eyebrow at that, from the corner of her eye, a flash of worry crossing her face. But Sybil only sighed, the coffin closing in.

“Harry’s immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect.”

Sybil frowned at the description. She could see Lily shoot her an apologetic glance.

“Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes several times their natural size, and she was draped in gauzy spangles shawl.”

This time, Sybil couldn’t stop herself. Pandora’s crystal blue eyes when she looked at her now were filled with a deep, knowing, sadness.

“Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings. … ‘Is your grandmother well?’”

Frank shot up in a chair, shooting a questioning look at Sybil. Sybil looked down miserably, knowing she had no answers to give, and not wanting to field questions. She could tell many in the room were biting their tongues.

The worry about what others thought about her had not yet quite been stamped out and Sybil’s mouth fell dry.

“’I think so,’ said Neville tremulously.”

“Is she?” Frank asked, worry penetrating his voice. Several eyes flew Sybil’s way, but she kept her head down, picking miserably at her fingers, and shrugging.

Thankfully, Dedalus moved on.

“’I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, dear,’ … ‘By the way, my dear,’ she shot suddenly at Parvarti Patil, ‘beware a red-haired man.’”

Fabian frowned, shooting another questioning look at Sybil. This time, when Sybil tugged at the beginnings of a hangnail, a spot of blood appeared. She stared down at it, mesmerized.

“Parvarti gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him. … ‘Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever.’”

Lily shook her head. “Okay, what is happening? Is this how it works?”

Sybil looked listless.

“A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it. … ‘That means you’re going to have ‘trials and suffering’ – sorry about that – but there’s a thing that could be the sun … hang on … that means ‘great happiness’ … so you’re going to suffer but be very happy …’”

The room was starting to shift with strange energy. As if people were thinking ‘this is who we are trusting?’ Or perhaps someone had said the words aloud. Sybil’s head was pounding and there were so. Many. Voices.

Pandora glared at the lot of them.

“’You need your Inner eye tested, if you ask me,’ … ‘The falcon … my dead, you have a deadly enemy.’”

The bar was quiet now and there was a pause in the din inside Sybil’s mind. The screech of a bird. Sybil supposes it could have been a falcon.

It sounded more like a woman’s scream.

“’But everyone knows that,’ said Hermoine in a loud whisper.’”

Next to Pandora, Regulus frowned. Sybil couldn’t remember the book describing when Hermione had come in, but then again, she felt like she was losing time. Sybil glanced over at Pandora, as if to check that she didn’t slip again into a prophecy.

Pandora was holding her gaze. Steady. Strong.

Soft.

“Trelawney stared at her. … ‘The club … an attack.’ … ‘The skull … danger in your path, my dear…’ … ‘My dear boy … my poor dead boy … no … it is kinder not to say … no … don’t ask me…’”

Lily stood stock still in the room, a frantic look in her green eyes. Sybil took a breath, eyes shuttering close. She tried to will herself back to the present.

“’What is it, Professor?’ … ‘you have the Grim.’”

Murmurs broke out nearly immediately in the bar.

“The Grim?” Lily asked, clearly not understanding the significance. Her voice tinged with desperation.

“It’s an omen of death,” Edgar explained kindly. “A black dog, said to guard the gates to the Underworld. It is the last thing some see in this life.”

“A children’s tale,” Marlene said, glaring at Edgar as if he were to blame for the other woman’s worry.

Lily looked horrified but strangely, James didn’t seem as worried about the omen, shooting a strange look at Sirius, who paled, looking guilty.

“’The what?’ … ‘I don’t think it looks like a Grim,’ she said flatly.”

Pandora, who had gone back to watching to book, smiled a bit. She nodded slowly, as if approving of the girl’s obstinance.

“Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermoine with mounting dislike. … ‘When you’ve all finished decided whether I’m going to die or not!’”

This time, Pandora winced.

“Now nobody seemed to want to look at him. … ‘Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?’”

A few people in the bar gaped, shooting McGonagall a curious look. Sybil tried not to look over at the other woman, gaze returning to her fingers, which she realized, for the first time, were covered in blood. The skin around each of her nails was picked clean. Sybil hadn’t even realized she had been doing it. She pinched one of the fresher cuts and watched the blood well.

“Everyone stared at her. … ‘Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues – ‘”

At that, McGonagall seemed to shoot an apologetic look toward Sybil, but she kept her head down. Pandora still glared at the older woman, but Sybil’s sister blessedly bit her tongue.

Sybil wiped the blood on her sweater and waved the other woman off with a shaking hand, not offended at all by the insinuation.

“Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. … ‘True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney – ‘”

Pandora was openly glaring at the Transfiguration professor now.

“She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter of fact tone, ‘You look in excellent health to me Potter,’ … ‘I saw one the night I left the Dursleys’.’”

Another strange look exchanged between James and Sirius if Sybil wasn’t still hearing shouting voices, she might have been able to pick up more from the boys’ silent conversation. As it was, all Sybil noted was Remus shooting the pair a worried glance.

“Ron let his fork fall with a clatter. … ‘You just don’t like being bad at something for a change!’”

Pandora grimaced at the accusation, as if resigned that there might be more slander coming for her sister in these books.

“He had touched a nerve. … ‘She hasn’t been to an Arithmancy class yet.’”

Once again, Emmeline frowned, trying to map Hermione’s schedule in her head.

“Harry was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. … ‘Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!’”

Marlene shot a worried look at Dorcas, as if the pair both had a sinking feeling regarding this first lesson of Hagrid’s.

“For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; … ‘Hasn’ – hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?’”

Marlene’s face grimaced and Alice’s eyebrows shot up.

“The class all shook their heads. … ‘We should have stroked them! Why didn’t we guess!'”

The room looked torn between being annoyed at the young boy in the books, and some looking like they rather agreed with him. Hagrid was well beloved by most in the room, the last book showed that, but Pandora couldn’t help but feel that many were anxious to see how his first class went.

“’I – I thought they were funny,’ … ‘That oaf teaching classes, my father’ll have a fit when I tell him – ‘”

The trepidation around the room at Hagrid’s lesson seemed to disappear, and most of the room now glared at the book. The thought of Lucius pulling strings when it came to Hagrid’s job sent a shot of fear through Pandora.

“’Shut up Malfoy,’ … They had bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliant orange eyes.”

Pandora lit up, recognizing the description instantly from Xeno’s books. “A Hippogriff!” she laughed, delighted. She looked over at Regulus’s excitedly. Hippogriffs were beautiful creatures and Pandora couldn’t help but feel slightly envious she wasn’t able to get such a lesson in her school days. She had a surge of excitement for Hagrid as a teacher and felt slightly guilty that she had doubted him.

“The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. … ‘Beau’iful, aren’t they?’”

Emmeline sighed forlornly. “How lucky,” the Ravenclaw shook her head. “And in their second year!” Emmeline glanced excitedly at Dumbledore, clearly approving of the older man’s choice in teacher.

“Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. … ‘I’ll do it.’”

Despite a flicker of worry, Lily mostly looked proud of her son in that moment.

“There was an intake of breath from behind him, … ‘Well done, Harry!’”

Lily clapped excitedly, glancing around. There seemed to be mostly relief in the room but James gripped her hand eagerly.

“’Right – yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!’ … He managed to hold on and push himself straight again.”

“Brilliant,” Remus whispered at the description of Harry’s flight on the Hippogriff. Several in the room looked at the book with wonder, trying to imagine the scene coming to life before their eyes.

“’Good work, Harry!’ … ‘Are you, you great ugly brute?’”

Pandora sucked in a sharp breath of air. “That is not wise,” she said dangerously, Sybil’s sister suddenly at the edge of her seat.

Remus shared a worried glance with her as other caught up to the severity of the situation described.

“It happened in a flash of steely talons; … ‘I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!’”

“Idiot!” Emmeline hissed, shaking her head.

“He provoked it,” Marlene protested. Next to her, Edgar bit his lip nervously.

“I’m not sure that it matters,” the man began. “If Lucius finds out…” he trailed off worriedly, the room remembering the trouble the other man caused just one book ago.

“’Yer not dyin’!’ … ‘They should fire him straight away!’”

“It wasn’t Hagrid’s fault!” Marlene argued, as if those in the book might hear her. Dorcas put a comforting hand on her girlfriend’s arm.

“’It was Malfoy’s fault!’ snapped Dean Thomas. … ‘That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid’s first class, though, wasn’t it?’”

There were glances around the room. Trepidation pouring into the air so quickly that Sybil felt almost choked by it.

“’Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him …’ … ‘If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It’s still quite early…’”

Lily’s face rippled unhappily but she didn’t say anything.

“’I don’t know,’ … ‘Sirius Black hasn’t got past the dementors here, has he?’”

The room went suddenly quiet at the reminder, a cold bucket of water splashing over them. Sirius sunk lower in his seat.

“So they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad not to meet anybody on their way to the front doors, as they weren’t entirely sure they were supposed to be out. … ‘Don’ reckon they’ve ever had a teacher who lasted on’y a day before.’”

“Professor Lim, first year,” Gideon recalled with a soft smile, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Next to him, his brother struggled to return the grin. “He didn’t last a class, Gid,” the Gryffindor laughed. “That doesn’t count.”

Gideon shrugged.

“’You haven’t been fired, Hagrid!’ … ‘’YEH’RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN’ AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN’ YOU TWO! LETTIN’ HIM!’”

Sirius, if anything, sunk further at the reminder that he was the threat Hagrid was worried about in the book. Others in the room seemed to be making an effort not to glance over at him. Well, except for Alastor, whose eyes never seemed to stray far from the boy since the reading had begun.

“Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed him arm, and pulled him to the door. … ‘I’m not worth that!’” Dedalus finished reading. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Erm, who wants to …?”

“Give it here,” Alastor said gruffly, finally glancing away from Sirius and sticking his hand out for the book. Dedalus passed it over to him.

“Chapter Seven,” Moody read. “The Boggart in the Wardrobe.”

Chapter Text

Alice had begun to dread these readings.

She hadn’t quite known what to do with them at first. It had been with a strange sort of morbid curiosity that she’d first listened to them, almost in a sense eager to learn all she could about the boy that would be her son. Those few glimpses and mentions of him, she’d waited for with bated breath. But a sick sort of tension had settled in Alice’s stomach. She did not want to know more. There was perhaps wisdom in that age old adage about messing with the time.

There was a reason Seers went mad, Alice thought of the last chapter, and took a noticeable glance at Sybil, chewing on her sleeve in the front of the room.

“Malfoy didn’t reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning,” Moody read. Alice tried to force herself to pay attention. She tried to reassure herself of the decision they had all made, when sitting down to listen. She thought to Lily and James. The Prewetts and Marlene. She thought of herself and Frank, glancing now at her husband, brow furrowed staring at his old Auror mentor. Alice tried to reassure herself that this was the right thing to do. “When the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. … But Harry saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.”

James scoffed in disgust as it was confirmed that Draco was faking his injury. Alice shook her head in irritation at the boy.

“’Settle down, settle down,’ said Snape idly. … ‘Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots.’”

Alice grit her teeth together. She was not a fan of Professor Snape and separating him from the man that sat in the room with them now was proving impossible. Their Snape sat sullenly in the front of the room, not making any attempt to even look ashamed at the way he was acting in the book. And occasionally, even looking proud. He was either a bully teacher or a Death Eater, and honestly, Alice didn’t know which she was more upset about in the moment.

“Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy’s roots toward him, and began to chop then roughly, so that they were all different sizes. … ‘Father’s not very happy with my injury – ‘”

Next to her, she heard Frank mutter under his breath. Alice clenched her jaw, but stayed resolutely silent.

“’Keep talking, Malfoy, and I’ll give you a real injury,’ … A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble.”

Alice gave a small start at the mention of her son. Her heart would always pick up speed whenever he was mentioned in the book. She immediately turned to the Snape at the front of the room and glared at him.

He had the audacity to look surprised.

“Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse.”

Alice’s lips were pressed in a thin line. Next to her, Frank was nearly shaking in rage, but she couldn’t find it in herself to reach over and grab his hand in that moment.

“No one should be afraid of their teacher,” Dorcas Meadows said, iron lacing her tone from the bar. Alice glanced over, but Dorcas wasn’t looking at her. The girl wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, rather glaring holes at the book in Moody’s hands. Alice tried to force herself to take a deep breath. Reminding herself that the actions in these books weren’t reality. At least not yet.

“His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned – ‘Orange Longbottom,’ … ‘What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?’”

Alice was biting her tongue hard enough that she tasted blood in her mouth. Fortunately, or unfortunately, her husband did not have her restraint.

“Seriously?” Frank growled, glaring at Snape, tone like a viper. Alice didn’t understand. She’d never particularly had any issues with the other man, to be quite frank, she’d never really had a second thought about him. Perhaps she shouldn’t be taking these books so seriously, but it was hard to separate the boy in front of her from the man in these books.

“Neville went pink and trembling. … ‘please, I could help Neville put it right – ‘ … ‘Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly.’”

“What is wrong with you?” Frank snapped next to her, making her jump. Snape’s eyes darted toward her in a second, and in the next, they looked away. Perhaps something flashed in them, some sort of regret or embarrassment but honestly, Alice couldn’t even be bothered to decipher it.

“Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. … ‘they reckon Sirius Black’s been sighted.’”

Alice was yanked from her worry of her son back to the present and her eyes, like everyone else’s, shot to Sirius. He held surprisingly well under the scrutiny, shoulders already hunched in a bit, head down. He was tense, but he stayed still, almost holding his breath as Moody continued to ready.

“’Where?’ … ‘Not far from here,’ … ‘By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone.’”

Alice didn’t think anyone else saw, but James’s shoulders dropped in relief. Beside him, Peter’s eyes darted between them all worriedly. Alice really didn’t think anyone else saw Remus’s shoulders drop ever so slightly as well. The boy’s gaze was locked on the floor, jaw clenched tight.

Alice didn’t really know what to do with the information of the spy among them. At least, this definitive proof. It was hard for her to come to terms with anyone in the group betraying them. These were her friends. Her classmates, her fellow soldiers. But it was moot. There was a traitor here. And everything currently pointed to that being Sirius.

“’Not too far from here …’”

Alice shook off the thought. All she cared for in that moment was Neville. There was a traitor near her son, and for that, all she could really trust was Frank. Her hand closed in around his, stiff and balled in a fist on the table. But after a moment, his fingers interlocked with her own and Alice felt a blanket of warmth spread through her body.

“He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. … ‘Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?’”

Lily tensed in her seat; bright green eyes locked on the book. Alice wanted to catch her friend’s gaze. To ask questions. Lily hadn’t always been close to Sirius and Alice, for the life of her, couldn’t understand her friend’s absolute faith in him now. Was it just because of James? Or was there something Alice was missing? Some piece of the story she didn’t know?

“’Yeah, that’s right,’ … ‘I wouldn’t be staying in school like a good boy, I’d be out looking for him.’”

Alice narrowed her eyes at the boy’s words.

Remus leaned forward; brow furrowed. “That …” he trailed off. James picked up on the thought immediately.

“He knows something…”

“’What are you talking about, Malfoy?’… ‘But if it was me, I’d want revenge. I’d hunt him down myself.’”

The bar was quiet as Draco’s words sunk in. Marlene was shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“’What are you talking about?’ … ‘Why would I want revenge on Black?’”

James leaned forward, just as eager for the answer to his son’s question. The pit in Alice’s stomach was only growing.

“’He’s making it up,’ … ‘If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.’”

Alice glared at the other man, still sitting stiffly in the center of the room. This is not the same man, she chanted to herself. They are different people, she tried to tell herself.

But were they? Was this man in front of them, Dark Mark seared into his arm, really that different from this bully of a teacher they were being forced to read about? How differently would he react, given everything? Wasn’t this book simply the future that was? How could she not blame him for that? Who else was she to hold accountable?

“The Gryffindors watched fearfully. … then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape’s palm.”

Alice let out a breath of relief. Trevor clearly meant a lot to Neville and she couldn’t imagine the toad being killed in front of her son.

“The Gryffindor’s burst into applause. … ‘Five points from Gryffindor.’”

“From?” Frank repeated in a growl, eyes narrowing. Other than a slight clench of the boy’s jaw, Snape did not move.

“’I told you not to help him, Miss Granger.’ … ‘Where is she?’ … ‘One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again.’”

Recognition flickered in McGonagall’s eyes though many other in the room looked confused still. Alice wasn’t interested at all in Hermione’s strange schedule that year. She just wanted her son out of this damn class. She wanted words with Dumbledore after this.

“’What?’ .. ‘D’you get the feeling Hermoine’s not telling us something?’ Ron asked Harry.”

“I don’t get it?” Emmeline whispered, trying not to interrupt. Alice felt she should maybe be focusing more on this strange timing, but given everything that was happening, she couldn’t find herself wanting to focus on it.

“It’s strange…” muttered Gideon before he was interrupted by Moody, who continued to read.

“Professor Lupin wasn’t there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.”

Remus shifted uncomfortably at his mention in the story, but next to him, James glanced over, pride in his expression. Lily’s eyes were softer, but she looked excited for his mention in the story.

Alice relaxed a little, sure that her son wasn’t for any worse torment now that he was in Remus’s class.

“They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and they were talking when he finally entered the room. … ‘You will only need your wands.’”

Lily smiled at him. “Already better than the prior two years,” she said.

Remus rolled his eyes, flushing. “We don’t know that,” he muttered.

“A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. … ‘’Waddiwasi!’ and pointed it at Peeves.”

Lily let out a little chuckle and shook her head. “I can’t believe you remember that!” she said, delighted. Remus blushed.

“With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves’ left nostril; … Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in.”

Alice felt herself stiffen again. Not for the first time in these readings, she willed the books to not mention her son.

“His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. … ‘Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult.’”

Alice actually let out a small hiss through her teeth, eyes blazing.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Frank growled, his glare now wavering from Snape at the front of the room. There was a slightly desperate look to the boy’s eyes when they darted over at the couple, and he even opened his mouth, as if there was some explanation he could have possibly given for his behavior. But before he could start, Moody continued reading.

“’Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.’ … ‘I was hoping Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation,’ he said, ‘and I am sure he will perform it admirably.’”

Alice glanced in surprise at Remus, shaken for a moment, out of her seething anger. Remus’s eyes were soft as he watched the book.

“Neville’s face went, if possible, even redder. … ‘There’s a boggart in there.’”

A few people perked up in the room. Marlene gave a shaky grin.

“A boggart lesson?” she asked. Typically, boggarts were covered in second or third year at Hogwarts. Although, for obviously reasons, it seemed that boggarts would have to be covered during the children’s third year. Alice couldn’t imagine Lockhart trying to teach the monsters. She shuddered at the thought, a surge of relief flooding though her that Remus was now in charge.

“Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. … ‘Have you spotted it, Harry?’”

Alice felt herself smile. Remus was an excellent teacher.

“Trying to answer a question with Hermoine next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but Harry had a go. … ‘First things first: What would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?’”

Alice stiffened at the questioned posed to her son. For a moment, her and Frank flashed though her mind. There was a reason Frank’s mother was raising her child. A reason they were nowhere mentioned. She held her breath.

“Neville’s lips moved, but no noise came out. … ‘Professor Snape.’”

Alice’s heart broke.

“Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. … ‘Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?’”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Remus in confusion. The other man watched the book, a strange twinkle in his eyes.

“’Er – yes.’ … ‘If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag.’”

Marlene snorted across the room and a few others seemed to find humor in the description, but Snape turned to glare at Remus.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he spat accusatorily.

Remus glared back. “I made that boy fear you on purpose?” he asked back, voice laced with anger.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, you haven’t changed a bit – “

“I don’t think you really want to go there, Severus,” Alice cut in, anger vibrating through her. Snape’s eyes shot over and his mouth snapped shut. Before she could feel even a flicker of satisfaction at the reaction, Moody continued.

“There was a great shout of laughter. … Harry thought … What scared him most in the world?”

Lily exchanged a horrified glance with James, who was pale. Voldemort, Alice thought horrified. She glanced desperately at the book.

“His first thought was Lord Voldemort – a Voldemort returned to full strength. … A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak … then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning … “

Remus sucked in a breath at the book’s description.

“The dementor,” Caradoc said hauntedly. He shared a significant look with James, whose eyes were wide with fear.

“Harry shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. …Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eater vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.”

Marlene sat back, a look of content on her face. Snape’s face was red, though with anger or embarrassment, Alice couldn’t care less. She focused on the old Auror’s words as he kept reading.

“There was a roar of laughter; … For a moment, Harry thought Ron had frozen.”

Fabian leaned forward, worry creasing his forehead.

“Then – ‘Riddikulus!’ … He raised his wand, ready, but – ‘Here!’ shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward.”

James shot a frown at his friend, but Lily glanced over, sparkling eyes grateful. Next to her, Frank let out a swish of a breath.