Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 14: New Alliances

Guilt

That evening, Remus told the others what Frank had said. Then James told Peter and Remus everything that had happened the night before. Sirius sat in the corner of the dormitory, saying nothing. When James had finished, Peter said,

"That was a close shave. Sirius might easily have been expelled for that."

"Yes," James agreed, casting a sideways glance in Sirius's direction.

Remus, meanwhile, had risen from his bed and strolled to the window. He touched his wounded arm with his other hand. It still throbbed slightly.

"I remember a little bit of what happened," he said quietly. "I had only just transformed, and I saw the door open. I saw Severus standing there, and I saw you, Prongs."

There was a heavy silence.

"This has to stop," Remus said sadly.

It was ironic. Only that morning, he had spoken to Frank, and afterwards felt that maybe his life wasn't so bad after all. And now ...

"It can't go on like this," he went on. "There's no way around it. I'll have to talk to Dumbledore. My being here is dangerous. I should never have come in the first place."

His voice faltered, and James spoke up quickly.

"That's nonsense, Remus. This has nothing to do with you. It's not your fault."

"Isn't it?" Remus retorted, looking perfectly miserable. "Whatever way you look at it, if I hadn't been here, none of this would ever have happened. I could have killed someone last night. I could ... I could have killed you, James."

His voice caught in his throat.

"Stop it!" Sirius ordered sharply.

He got up and came closer so he could look Remus in the eye.

"Trust you to find some absurd way to make everything your fault," he said. "But I won't let you take the blame for something you couldn't do anything about. I may be a bit of a scoundrel - I certainly feel like one right now - but I have never let anyone else take the blame for my mistakes, and I don't intend to start now. What happened last night was entirely my fault, Dumbledore has punished me, and there's an end to it. Don't go grabbing for guilt, Moony."

"Sirius is right," James agreed. "Let's just forget it as quickly as we can and think of something more cheerful. Sirius, why not tell us about that spell you said we could put on our map? You know, the one that makes it 'answer back' when a teacher tries to use it."

Sirius brightened up at once and went to fetch a thick spellbook from his trunk. Remus tried to join in the fun as best he could, and actually contributed greatly to making the spell work as they wanted it to, but all the time his mind was dwelling on the trouble that had occurred last night. Whatever the others might say, he still felt it was his fault, at least in part. And he still felt guilty about every single time that he had left the Shrieking Shack and broken his promise to Dumbledore.

Pixies and Potions

It was the Saturday after. Heather waited nervously in the front row of the empty Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, staring down at the books and her wand on the desk in front of her. She felt strangely shaky and there seemed to be something wrong with her stomach. It was churning as though she had eaten something she shouldn't have. She felt so tense that she was considering just packing her bag and going straight back to her dormitory when she heard the classroom door open behind her. Heather turned and saw Remus Lupin coming towards her.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello."

Heather smiled shyly as she watched him come to the front of the classroom and set a box down on the teacher's desk.

"How are you feeling?" Remus asked, sitting on the end of her desk.

"A bit nervous," she confessed.

"Nervous? Not of me I hope."

Heather bit her lip and looked down at her hands. Remus frowned.

"You are nervous of me. But you needn't be."

He smiled.

"I'm a bit nervous of you too," he said.

This brought Heather's curly head up.

"Of me? Why?"

"I've never taught anyone before," he explained. "Oh, I've helped Peter Pettigrew with his homework, of course. But this is very different. I've been thinking about what Professor Darkhardt said, and I think I may actually like to be a teacher someday. But I don't know what I'll do if it turns out I'm lousy at it."

"I'm sure you won't be!" Heather said quickly.

She blushed as he smiled at her.

"Do you really like doing Defence Against the Dark Arts?" she asked nervously.

"Yes."

"And you get on with Professor Darkhardt?"

"He's all right, I suppose," Remus said. "Why?"

"He scares me. That scar of his, and his odd manner. And then I'm so useless at the spells he wants us to do. Potions is much easier," she concluded.

"Potions? Now you've scared me," Remus laughed.

Heather giggled. Remus turned to the side and began to get a few large items out of his bag. Heather studied him: his grey-flecked, light brown hair was falling into his eyes. His face looked drawn and his eyes tired, though he didn't look as ill as he had done a couple of days ago, when they had arranged this meeting.

Remus caught her eye.

"What's the matter?"

"You look - tired," Heather said.

"Yes. I wasn't very well this week. Had a bit of a fever," he replied a little gruffly. "Now - shall we get started?"

Heather nodded.

"What's in the box?" she asked.

"Cornish pixies."

Heather looked alarmed.

"You're not going to set them loose, are you?"

"Not yet. I thought we'd practise some simple stunning spells first."

"How? I mean, how do we practise them without the pixies?"

"That," Remus replied mischievously, "is why I brought these cushions."

He held up two hands full of thick red and gold cushions. Heather gazed at him blankly.

"You can't stun a cushion, can you?"

Remus seemed to consider this.

"I don't know. I've never tried. I should hardly think so. They do make for a softer landing, though."

He put the cushions down on the floor and looked at Heather.

"Now, I want you to use your wand to knock me out. Use any spells you want - just please make sure they're ones you know the counter-curses to."

"But I - I can't do that!"

"Why not? You're not going to hurt me, and it's much safer than practising on a bunch of fluttering pixies. Just imagine I'm an evil wizard or a monster come to get you or something."

"That's impossible!" Heather laughed. "What is it?" she added.

Remus had stopped smiling and was gazing at her with a strange look on his face. It was a queer, half sad expression that he checked as soon as he noticed her eyes on him.

"Let's get started then," he said.

A Plan of Action

In the library, Lily Evans was sitting brooding over a thick book when James strode over to join her.

"Hello," he said. "How's it going?"

"Not very well," she sighed, stroking a thick strand of red hair back from her face. James looked into her green eyes.

"Look - there's no need to tire yourself out with this," he said. "I'm sure it's not that important."

"And I'm sure it is," Lily answered, smiling slightly. "This here is a simple register I found. It lists all the students that have visited Hogwarts during the past fifty years."

James stared at the huge leather-bound volume.

"That must be a lot of names."

"Oh yes," Lily said. "But the thing is, that's all it is. Just names. No background. I have no way of discovering who was friends with who or anything like that. I can find a list of all the people who were in your father's year, but that's still a lot of names to check up on."

"Hello! Am I interrupting something?" Sirius suddenly said right beside James's shoulder.

"No," Lily said. "Why don't you join us?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Sirius ignored James's dark look and pulled up a chair.

"What's going on then?" he asked.

"Lily's been trying to find out who my father might have had dealings with when he was at school. But all she's been able to find is a list of names without any more information," James explained.

"I'm sure Dumbledore must have a book somewhere that would tell us more," Lily said. "There must be some files with all the students' details. You know, what they got up to while they were here, what points they won or lost for their houses. But we'd never be able to get at such files. What?" she added, seeing the broad grin spread across Sirius's face.

"I think I have an idea," he said.

James waited for him to continue, but Sirius was not forthcoming.

"That's great," said James. "Now if you wouldn't mind telling us ..."

"Well, I was just thinking of Filch."

"Filch?"

Lily's brow creased, but James began to smile.

"Of course. Filch's office must be full of files about the students of the past two hundred years!" he exclaimed.

"I don't think he's been here that long," Lily objected.

"No, but if his predecessor kept as many files as he does, then his office should be a gold mine. We might even find out something about Gryffindor's heir, if he ever came here, which he must have done."

"But he'll never allow you to read his papers!"

"Then we'll just have to read them without his permission, won't we?" Sirius said.

He glanced at James, who nodded.

"Where are Remus and Peter?"

"Up in the Tower," Sirius replied.

"Right. Let's go and tell them. Excuse us, Lily."

Lily watched the two boys go with a slightly worried expression on her face. She knew they were both fond of getting up to things that were against the rules, and she was seriously concerned what might happen if they got caught.

She never noticed that she wasn't the only one watching them. Behind a bookshelf in the far corner, Bertha Jorkins was making up her mind to keep guard near the caretaker's office that night.

Godric's Hollow

It was exactly midnight. The reason John Lupin knew this was that he could hear a church clock striking somewhere not too far away as he walked along a long and dusty road that wound its way past endless rows of trees, taller than any he had seen before. He wondered just where exactly he was. Professor Dumbledore's letter - sent in reply, it seemed, to John's own warning about the rising of the Dark Lord - had merely instructed him to go to a certain place at a certain time tonight and touch an old, battered bucket that he would find lying in a hedge; a Portkey, enchanted so that it would bring him here - wherever 'here' was.

He was just wondering whether he would ever reach the end of this path when he turned a corner and came to a place where the trees suddenly parted into a wide clearing. John stared. He was standing outside the wrought iron gates of a large mansion unlike any he had ever seen before. It looked like some kind of stately home, except that it was more mysterious, its walls grey and forbidding in the pale light of the waning moon and the stars, veiled by wisps of cloud.

John was just wondering where he should turn next when the gates opened slowly, making no sound at all. He stepped through them onto a gravel drive and followed it, still staring at the magnificent house. A figure stood on the steps before the large wooden doors, and it seemed to be looking his way. As he drew nearer, John was surprised to find he recognised the man. It was none other than his brother-in-law Malcolm, though his face had a ghostly appearance in this light.

"John!" Malcolm whispered, sounding every bit as awed as John felt.

"Hello," John replied. "What are you doing here?"

"I got a letter from Dumbledore, asking me to go to Piccadilly tonight and pick up a broken umbrella that I would find sticking out of a certain dustbin. He said there was something important he had to tell me. And you?"

"The same, more or less. Any idea where we are?"

The old familiar grin split Malcolm's face.

"I had a quick look round the village before I followed the path," he said. "I came across a sign that said 'Godric's Hollow'."

He paused for effect.

"Godric's Hollow?" John repeated. "And what's this place?"

"I don't know. But take a look at the doors."

John's eyes left his brother-in-law's face to examine the coat of arms on the vast doors: A golden lion on a scarlet background.

"The Gryffindor lion?" he said.

"Looks like it," Malcolm agreed. "Shall we ring the bell?"

John nodded, and Malcolm tugged at the old-fashioned chain by the door. There was no sound, and for a moment they stood looking at one another, wondering what they should do next. But then the doors opened wide of their own accord, revealing a vast hallway with a marble staircase leading up to a gallery. The place was lit by chandeliers and candelabras, and a mysterious music like the song of some exotic bird reached their ears.

Sure enough, as they entered the mansion and the great doors swung shut with a boom behind them, a beautiful bird with flaming red feathers soared down from the gallery and came to land on a leather-padded chair to their left.

Both John and Malcolm were so fascinated by this creature that they did not notice a person coming down the stairs until Professor Dumbledore stepped right up to them.

"Good evening," he said, smiling at their startled faces. "I see you are impressed with my phoenix. "Say hello, Fawkes."

The bird bowed its head in greeting, then it flew up and landed on the headmaster's shoulder.

"Professor - What's going on?" John asked. "Why are we here and - where are we, exactly?"

"This way," was all Dumbledore replied, and he led them up the magnificent marble stairway, along the gallery and through corridors lined with suits of armour and portraits of noble-looking wizards and witches, most of whom frowned solemnly as they walked by.

The headmaster of Hogwarts led them through a door at the end of a long passage into a narrow room without windows, lit only by a cluster of candles floating above the centre of a large round table that bore the Gryffindor crest.

Several people stood in a group at the end of the room, and Dumbledore introduced them all:

There was Bartemius Crouch, whom John had already met. Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore's deputy headmistress. An ageing woman with grey hair and piercing eyes whom Dumbledore introduced as Arabella Figg. Alastor Moody, a tall wizard with straggly dark hair that came down to his shoulders and an impossibly long and pointed nose.

Beside him stood a young man with thin red hair and his young wife. This, so Dumbledore informed him, were Arthur Weasley and his wife Molly, who were eagerly awaiting the birth of their second child.

Next in line was a tiny man who introduced himself with a flourish of his top hat as Dedalus Diggle. John wondered whether he might be in any way related to the boy he had heard Remus mention from time to time. Mundungus Fletcher, a rather shabby-looking wizard. Then came a slim girl with fair hair whom John definitely recognised at once as one of the Pettigrew twins - Philippa.

Last in line, wearing a dark expression on his scarred face, came the grizzled Professor Darkhardt. When the introductions had been completed, Dumbledore motioned them all to seats around the table.

"First of all," he said when they were all sitting, "I would like to thank you all for coming. The reason I asked you here tonight is that we now stand on the brink of a darkness that threatens to bend not only our world, but also the Muggle world to its will.

For myself, I have feared that this tide of evil was coming for many years, ever since a certain event at Hogwarts, the details of which I do not wish to elaborate on at this time.

However, I am aware that some of you had your first inkling much later, and some not until a teacher at Hogwarts made a certain prediction which, admittedly, is probably the first true prediction she has ever made."

"Then you really do believe what Sybill Trelawney said? You don't think she was just dramatising, as usual?"

"No, Minerva, I do not believe that," he replied, "and neither do you, or you would not have come to me so quickly to tell me about it that night. But I see that several of our friends here have not heard about it ..."

"I think I have," Pippa Pettigrew said. "My brother told me something about a prediction in a letter. He said Professor Trelawney had predicted the growing of an evil power, a power that no one could stop, except for the heir of Gryffindor."

"Well, she was right about the first part," John Lupin said. "What Mr. Crouch and I saw this week certainly looked like the celebration of pure evil."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "It was your letter about that event that made me summon this council tonight. Voldemort has been recruiting his forces for longer than you may think. I believe it is time we built up our own."

"Can't we just root out his supporters one by one and eliminate them? Without them, his base of power would surely crumble," Crouch suggested.

"Oh yes? And how would you eliminate them, exactly?" John demanded. "By authorising the use of outlawed curses like you suggested the other night? And against whom would you use them? Only against those who are proven to have voluntarily sworn themselves to his side? Against people he has frightened into following him? Against those he is mind-controlling? Against anyone you suspect of supporting him?"

Across the table, John noticed Professor Darkhardt give a curious smile.

"Sacrifices must be made," Crouch said coldly.

"I refuse to sacrifice innocent lives!" John protested, getting to his feet.

Dumbledore raised both hands for silence.

"Gentlemen, please! Let us discuss this in peace. Sit down, John."

John Lupin returned Bartemius Crouch's cold stare, but did as the professor had asked.

"My friends," Dumbledore went on, "we must stand together if we are to prevail in the face of this threat. We must act with caution, and we must find more who share our opinions. Professor Darkhardt here has already begun looking for promising students who might help us fight the Dark forces."

"Students?" Mundungus Fletcher repeated sceptically. "You think you can trust 'em with something as important as this?"

"In some cases, I am very much convinced of it," Professor Darkhardt assured him. "Some of our students show great potential, and more sense than many an adult I could name."

His gaze rested briefly on Crouch.

"It would be a shame not to have them on our side."

The professor turned his scarred face towards John.

"One of my first recruits," he said, "is your son, Mr. Lupin."

"Remus?" Malcolm exclaimed, turning to his brother-in-law.

"Remus?" John repeated quietly, sounding a trifle worried. "What do you mean?"

"Your son has shown great skill in his Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, and I have encouraged him to help others - well, one other at least - to improve their skills. He has both courage and brains, but that's not all I am looking for. Your son is very much like you, sir, in that I believe he too would never be willing to make unnecessary sacrifices to achieve his ends. That is, I think, a vital characteristic."

"And who else do you plan to 'recruit' in this manner?" Dedalus Diggle asked.

"Several of the older Gryffindor students: James Potter and Sirius Black, especially. A couple of Ravenclaws. And I dare say your nephew, Mr. Diggle, is likely to find himself involved as well - I hardly think I would be able to keep him out of it if I persuade Frank Longbottom to join us.

With the headmaster's permission, I would like to talk to the students as soon as possible."

"What about their parents' permission?" John asked.

"I am sure most parents would rather have their children well prepared to fight the Dark Arts than taught to use them by Voldemort himself," Dumbledore put in.

John slowly nodded his agreement.

"But if this prediction you mentioned is correct," Arabella Figg said, "all these efforts will only be of any use against Voldemort's supporters, but we will not be able to defeat him himself."

"Very well perceived, as always, Arabella," Dumbledore approved. "And that brings me to the reason I asked you all here, of all places, tonight."

"Godric's Hollow," Malcolm whispered softly. "The legendary town where Godric Gryffindor lived."

"Exactly," Dumbledore agreed. "And this place here is none other than Gryffindor Hall, the home of the last person alive who still bears the name of Gryffindor."

This announcement was greeted by various exclamations.

"The heir from Professor Trelawney's prediction?"

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore said mysteriously. "But I decided that this meeting place would be not only one of the safest in the country, besides Hogwarts, but a symbolic site for the first gathering of Voldemort's enemies. The presence of Fawkes is also symbolic."

Right on cue, the red-feathered bird flew over and perched on the arm of Dumbledore's chair.

"The wand of Lord Voldemort contains a feather from the tail of this phoenix. But instead of using it to do good, Voldemort has chosen to abuse it for evil. Fawkes, like the rest of us, has a score to settle with him. I therefore ask you all, now, to pledge yourself to his cause and mine, though it may mean pain or even death for some or all of us. I am calling together the Order of the Phoenix, to stand against Voldemort and all who willingly support him. Will you join me?"

He looked around at the series of faces before him. One by one, those present nodded their heads. Dumbledore smiled.

"Good," he said. "Then I would suggest that we have sat here long enough for one night. I ask you all to keep your eyes and ears open. I will summon you again soon. But for now I have something to do. I must speak to our host. Minerva, Narbus ..."

He turned to Professors McGonagall and Darkhardt.

"You two will please go straight back to Hogwarts tonight. I am uneasy about leaving the school unguarded for too long. When I have talked to Gordon Gryffindor, I will speak to some members of the Ministry who, I think, will help us."

While the headmaster was talking to the other teachers, the rest began to get up and leave. John was halfway out the door when Dumbledore dismissed his colleagues and called him back.

"How is your wife, John?" he asked.

"She's well, thank you," John replied. "I - couldn't help but notice you didn't invite her here tonight."

"No. But I assure you that had nothing to do with mistrust."

"Of course not. In fact, I wanted to thank you for not asking her. I know she would pledge herself to anything you said, but ..."

"But you would rather keep her safely out of the way?" Dumbledore guessed. "I understand. That was part of the reason why I did not ask her here tonight. The other is that, though I don't doubt she would never serve Voldemort, she is not as strong as you are, or as her brother is. And yet - I am not sure if I have done her a favour by leaving her out of this. It is sometimes safer to learn to fight evil and face danger prepared than hide from it and be caught unawares."

He looked John in the eye.

"Your wife is a lovely woman. I have always been fond of her. Look after her, John."

"I will. I would sooner give my own life that let any harm come to her."

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. There was a long pause before John asked,

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

The headmaster's head came up suddenly, as though his thoughts had been elsewhere.

"Yes," he said slowly. "How well do you know Bridget Potter?"

"James Potter's mother?" John said, surprised. "A little. We've met her at the station a few times, of course. Why?"

"I hope to bring her into the Order," Dumbledore replied. "I hoped you would be able to tell me whether she would be likely to agree to help us."

"You think it important that she should?"

"Perhaps. It depends. If my suspicions are correct ... I must ask you not to mention this conversation to anyone," the headmaster added. "You must promise me that."

"You have my word," John assured him.

"Good ... one day I may have to ask more of you, John. I hope I can rely on you to come at once if I call on you."

"Of course."

Back in the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts, Severus Snape was feeling slightly ecstatic. He pulled up his sleeve and ran a finger over the black symbol on his arm: A skull with a snake protruding out of its mouth like a tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approach and sit on the low sofa opposite. Severus looked up into a narrow, pale face. Lucius Malfoy grinned crookedly.

"Well, it's started at last," he said, leaning back and twirling his wand in his hand.

"Yes," Severus agreed.

He felt strange. Tonight he had seen the Dark Lord, and been accepted into Voldemort's inner circle as one of his youngest supporters. A Death Eater, and not yet sixteen!

Lucius, of course, was two years older. He would be leaving Hogwarts soon and would probably take some high position in the Ministry that would give him power - much more power than Severus had. Still, it had been Severus, not Lucius, who had realised the importance of that ridiculous Divination teacher's prediction and warned Voldemort. Severus smiled coldly. Voldemort had been very pleased with him. In fact, it was probably part of the reason why he had been accepted as a Death Eater at such an early age.

He wondered, as he had so often done, who and where this 'heir of Gryffindor' might be. Voldemort had seemed to think there might actually be more than one heir of Gryffindor. He had tried, almost as soon as he had received Severus's message, to find some sort of book or register that would tell him who these descendants of Slytherin's arch enemy might be. But there were no such works to be obtained anywhere. Though such texts must surely have existed, it was as though they had vanished that night. Certainly there were none available now.

Severus thought of Dumbledore. Could he be the reason these texts had disappeared? Did he have enough power and influence to ensure that all copies of such works vanished in a single night? Did he know whom the prediction had referred to?

More importantly: Was the prediction true? Was Gryffindor's heir, whoever that might be, so powerful that he - or she - could pose a serious threat to Lord Voldemort?

A Nightly Excursion

Three o'clock in the morning. Sirius Black poked his nose out from behind the hangings of his four-poster bed and listened. The room was quiet apart from a few snores now and then. He got up and pulled his clothes back on over his pyjamas, then went to get James while, across the room, Remus had already got up and dressed too.

"Where's Peter?" James whispered as he pulled his jumper over his head.

"Fast asleep, judging by the noise." Remus grinned. "Hold on."

He crept over to Peter's bed and pulled back the curtains. Sure enough, their friend was lying there with his eyes shut and his mouth hanging open.

"Oy, wake up, Wormtail," Sirius hissed, poking him with his wand.

Peter sat up in bed with a jolt, lashed out and sent an empty glass by his bed crashing to the floor. They all heard a murmur from the fifth bed, and a moment later Frank's head poked out at them

"What are you lot up to again?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Vitrum reparo," Remus chanted, and the shards on the floor came back together again.

"You're all dressed," Frank discovered, getting up and coming over. "Where are you going?"

"Err ... nowhere?" Sirius suggested rather hopelessly.

They all stood in awkward silence for a moment, then Remus said,

"Right, well, we've been caught - so I vote we might as well tell him."

"Are you mad?" Sirius growled.

"No, he's making sense," Frank replied. "After all, I already know you're up to something. It's not as though I'd tell on you."

"I don't mind Frank knowing," Peter said.

Sirius turned to James.

"It's up to you then."

"Okay," James said. "We're going down to Filch's office to see if we can find out who my father was at school with, because we know that when he was here, he was fiends with Voldemort."

Frank's eyes widened.

"Your dad was friends with that madman? The one who killed that old minister?"

"Yes. And we want to know just who this Lord Voldemort really is. We're pretty sure that's not his real name."

"And what if you do manage to find out who he is? What good will it do?"

"I don't know," James admitted. "But we feel we've got to do something, and this is a start."

"Maybe we'll be able to find out where he comes from," Remus added. "What kind of a man he is - what his weaknesses are."

"In any case, it can't hurt to know as much about him as possible," Sirius said.

"True," Frank agreed. "All right. In that case, I'm coming with you."

The 'marauders' looked at one another. Remus nodded to the others. James smiled. Peter nodded. Only Sirius hesitated, but at last he shrugged his shoulders.

"Come on then," Remus said, producing the Marauder's Map.

He looked at Frank and put on his most serious expression.

"You'll have to promise us that you'll never breathe a word of what you're about to see and hear to anyone, living or ghost. Not even Damian."

"I promise," Frank said just as earnestly.

Sirius then waved his wand over the map in Remus's hand and said the words to reveal it. Frank's mouth dropped open as the words of Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs appeared on the page. But that was nothing to his surprise when labelled dots began moving over the map.

"When - how did you make this?"

Sirius grinned.

"Secrets of the trade. Come on."

And so Frank dressed hurriedly, and then the five of them set out in the direction of Filch's office.

Bertha Jorkins peeped round a pillar. From where she was standing, she could see the door to the caretaker's office and the passage leading up to it. She pricked up her ears. She'd been waiting for hours, surely they would be along soon.

Bertha felt something brush against her leg and looked down.

"Oh, not now, Mrs. Norris," she whispered angrily. "Go away. Shoo!"

The cat stalked off with its tail in the air, and Bertha looked back towards the door and the passage. She was sure that any minute now, Sirius - Bertha liked Sirius - and the others would appear, and she would see ...

"Hello, what have we here? A student out of bed at past three in the morning?" a voice said right behind her, making her jump several inches.

Sirius, his wand casting an eerie greenish light on his features, stopped and turned to the others.

"Right, here we are," he said. "Is the coast clear, Remus?"

His friend checked the map.

"There's no one in Filch's office or near it - except us."

He wiped the map clean under more amazed gasps from Frank, then the five of them walked up to the door. Peter tried the handle.

"It's locked," he stated, looking at Remus with a grin.

"It's locked," said Remus, grinning at Sirius.

"Oh dear, it's locked, James," Sirius echoed.

"Now what?" Frank asked. "Can it be opened with a spell?"

"None that we know of. We've tried that before, when we came to get something back that Filch had taken from us," James replied. "But ..."

He took a piece of twine out of his pocket and held it up for Frank to see.

"What's that for?"

"You're about to see the master locksmith of Hogwarts at work," Remus said mysteriously.

Frank watched fascinated as James pointed his wand at the piece of twine and waved it once. Suddenly the twine stiffened. Its end twisted and bent and it took on a metallic sheen. James held it out for Frank to see.

"You transfigured it!" Frank exclaimed. "But what's that?"

"It's called a skeleton key. Burglars in Muggle stories use them to open locked doors."

"That bit of wire's going to open a lock? How?"

In answer, James passed the skeleton key to Sirius, who had already crouched down before the lock. He inserted the wire and began to twist it round. After a few seconds, they all heard a loud click. Sirius stood back and Peter tried the door once more. This time it swung back on its hinges with a low creak. The marauders stepped into the office, but Frank paused to remove the skeleton key.

"You forget the evidence," he said, handing it back to James.

"Thanks."

Another flick of James's wand turned the key back into a harmless piece of twine, which James buried in his pocket.

"Right, now where do we start?" Frank asked, looking round at the file cabinets.

"My father's name's Lothian," James said. "Vindictus Lothian."

"L. Should be near my file," said Remus.

He walked over to a cabinet.

"Oh, he's moved me!" he exclaimed. "Lupin, Remus. See Black, Lupin, Pettigrew and Potter," he read.

Sirius looked around him.

"Here we are! We've got an entire drawer to ourselves. Now that's what I call an achievement. Bet no one will ever match that!"

The others laughed.

"Ah, here we are," said Remus, becoming serious again. "Lothian, Vindictus. There's not much in his file, though. He must have been a model student."

"Not much like me then," James said.

"No, but look how he turned out," Peter reminded him.

James went to look over Remus's shoulder.

"Looks like my father was a snitch," he remarked. "It seems all he ever did was report decent, hard-working mischief makers to the caretaker or one of the teachers. What's this name here? It seems to appear rather often ... 'Lothian and Riddle reported so-and-so'. 'Riddle and Lothian ...'. Who's this Riddle, then?"

"Riddle? Funny name," Sirius commented.

He strolled over to another cabinet and pulled it open.

"Tom Riddle, was it?"

James checked.

"Yes."

"Hm. Riddle, Tom Marvolo," Sirius read. "Honestly, what a ridiculous name! Hardly anything in his file either. Must have been even more perfect than your dad, James. Woah ..."

Sirius whistled.

"What is it?" Frank asked.

"This Riddle chap got an award for special services to the school."

"What special services?"

"It says he trapped some boy who set a monster loose that killed a student. Riddle can't be the one we're looking for after all then, can he?"

"I don't know," James murmured.

"What was the name of the student who let the monster loose?" Peter asked.

"It doesn't say."

James thoughtfully pulled a drawer open in the cabinet in front of him and sifted aimlessly through the files. In the place where his own should have been, he found the same note as in Remus's file. But something bothered James. Something was wrong. He flicked his empty file forward and his gaze fell on those behind it.

"Potter, Greta," he muttered. "Potter, Colin. Potter, Alexander."

"Relatives of yours?" Frank asked.

"Not that I know of. My mum never mentions her family."

His mother ... Suddenly it began to dawn on James what was worrying him. As a young boy, he had always assumed that Potter was his father's surname - if indeed he had thought about it at all. Since he had found out that that was not the case, he had been sure that it must be his mother's maiden name. He looked in the drawer again, but there was no Bridget Potter to be found. He flicked past all the files again in case he had missed one, he even dug down into the bottom of the drawer in case his mother's file had slipped down - nothing.

"What's the matter?" Peter asked.

"My mother's file - it's not here," James answered.

The others came and joined him.

"But - she was at Hogwarts too, wasn't she?" Sirius asked.

"Yes. She was in Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat said so."

"Maybe it made a mistake?"

A cough from the door made them all jump and whirl around. In the doorway, frowning deeply so that his scar looked more hideous than ever, stood Professor Darkhardt.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said the professor. "Dear me, Mr. Filch will not be happy about you 'filching' his papers."

Peter suppressed a snigger.

"For your information, Mr. Pettigrew," their teacher silenced him, "the Sorting Hat is never mistaken, to my knowledge. If it claims that Mr. Potter's mother was in Gryffindor, then she was."

"You heard all that?" James blurted out.

"That and a great deal more besides," Darkhardt said. "I have been watching you all ever since your fascinating display of burglaring skills."

"But there was no one on ..." Remus checked himself just in time. "I mean, we didn't see anyone about."

"No. As a matter of fact, I have been out all night. On my return I met Mr. Filch, escorting Miss Jorkins back to her dormitory. It seems to have been a busy night."

"Bertha?"

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom. Apparently, Mr. Filch had caught her creeping around here. She would not say what she had been doing here, so I decided to come along and investigate. So, you now know how I come to be here, but I have yet to learn what exactly was your purpose in coming here tonight."

James opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Mr. Filch joined them.

"What's this?" he sneered. "More students out of bed? By gad, I'll have you lot hanging by your thumbs ..."

He started towards them, but Professor Darkhardt held him back.

"I'll handle this, Argus," he said.

He turned to the boys.

"You had better all come to my office with me so we can talk undisturbed."

"Not until I've made sure they haven't pinched anything," Filch objected.

Darkhardt sighed.

"All right, turn out your pockets."

The boys obeyed. Filch marched over to the desk and examined each of the objects lying on it. There was a handful of Every Flavour Beans, a crumpled piece of parchment with some Potions notes on it, James's piece of twine, a few bronze knuts and the Marauder's Map - thankfully blank.

Filch picked up this last item and eyed Remus, who had laid it there, with malicious suspicion.

"What's this then?" he asked.

"A piece of parchment, by the look of it," said the Defence Against the Dark Arts master, taking it from Filch's hand. "Pick up your things, boys, and follow me."

They did so, and soon all five of them were crowded in the professor's office. Professor Darkhardt turned the parchment over and over in his hand and finally pointed his wand at it.

"I am Professor Darkhardt, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher of this school. I command you to reveal your secret," he said.

There was a pause, then text began to appear on the sheet of parchment in his hand.

"Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Darkhardt, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

Remus flinched. More text appeared below ...

"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Darkhardt is an ugly git."

It was James's turn to blanch.

"Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."

Sirius suppressed a grin and shot a nervous sideways glance at their teacher.

"Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Darkhardt good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."

Peter began to tremble visibly. All of the boys watched the professor rather nervously. They had been very proud of this little protection against prying teachers - they had even managed to enchant it with two different versions of these responses, one for male and one for female teachers - but now they wished the floor would swallow them up.

For a while, Professor Darkhardt's expression remained unfathomable. Then, so unexpectedly that all five of them felt their hearts start to pound in their chests, Professor Darkhardt began to laugh heartily. He handed the parchment back to Remus and sat down on the chair behind his desk.

"That is an ingenious piece of equipment you carry," he said appreciatively. "What does it do?"

"It's a map, sir," Remus admitted.

Darkhardt ignored the hard elbow nudge Sirius gave Remus.

"A map, eh? That must be very useful in a big place like this. And, Mr. Potter, I find your use for old pieces of twine very impressive. In fact, all of you have actually confirmed my opinion of you tonight. But before I go into that, I would like to know what you were looking for in our esteemed caretaker's office."

The boys exchanged glances, and as usual James was silently elected as spokesman. He told the professor what they had been looking for and why, about his mother's mysterious past and his father's identity. When James finished, Darkhardt nodded slowly.

"Very good. You have indeed discovered the identity of Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle. His mother was a witch, and married a Muggle who left her when she told him what she was. She died giving birth to Tom, who grew up in a Muggle orphanage. He has hated Muggles ever since.

Your resourcefulness and ingenuity does you all credit," he said. "And I gather from your recital that some of that credit is also due to the diligent studies of Miss Lily Evans."

James nodded.

"Very well. Now let me tell you what I have been doing tonight. You had better make yourselves as comfortable as you can in this room."

They all found rather uncomfortable seats about the office, and Professor Darkhardt began filling them in on what had been discussed at Dumbledore's meeting.

"So," he concluded at the end of his story, "it is my job to find brave and resourceful students like you and 'convert' you to our cause. The threat of Voldemort is very real and very near. I hope you will all decide that you are on our side. Your father, Remus, at first protested against my bringing students in on such a dangerous venture. But I think he understood, in the end, that it is for the best."

"You say you'll teach us more about the Dark Arts and how to fight them?" Remus asked in answer.

"Yes. Don't worry, I will do my best to make sure you are all as well prepared as you can be before you actually have to face Voldemort or any of his supporters. I'll understand if you'd all rather sleep on it before you make a decision ..."

"I don't think there's any need for that," Sirius said, rising from the chest he had been sitting on. "Voldemort has to be stopped, and if there's any way we can help stop him, then I don't think any of us is going to say no. Right?"

The others all agreed. Professor Darkhardt smiled.

"Good. I suspected you would be eager to join us. Now, I suggest you all go back to bed, and tomorrow, speak to anyone else you think has the courage to fight the dark side. Only people you really trust, mind. We can't afford to make mistakes. Come to my office again next Saturday night."

The boys nodded and began to leave the office. James stopped in the doorway and turned back.

"There's just one thing," he said. "It's about my mother. You said that if the Sorting Hat said she was in Gryffindor, then she was. But her name doesn't appear anywhere in the files ..."

"I don't know much about that," Professor Darkhardt admitted. "All I can say is, she must have been here if the Sorting Hat said so. Perhaps ..."

"Yes?"

"I have been teaching here a very long time now, so I must have met your mother. What did you say her name was?"

"Bridget Potter."

"Bridget?" the professor repeated thoughtfully. "I don't remember a Bridget Potter. Unless ..."

Suddenly his eyes opened and he stared at James as though he were seeing him in a new light.

"What is it, sir?"

"It's just a thought. If your mother was a student here under a different name, then ..."

"Yes?"

Darkhardt shook his head.

"Nothing. We shall see."

And that was all he would say. James said good night to the professor and followed the others back to the dormitory, but he lay awake a long time, thinking about what he had learnt that night. Moonlight had almost given way to light before his eyes finally closed and he fell into an uneasy sleep.