Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 16: The End of Peace

Lothian's Return

Lucius Malfoy crept back into the deserted Slytherin common room. He had found what his master had told him to look for, and sat down on the sofa to examine it.

The pages of the diary were blank, the only writing to be found anywhere in it or on it was the name 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' on its cover. Lucius took it over to the desk, took out a quill and ink pot and allowed his hand to hover uncertainly over the open diary for a moment before he reminded himself that it was not wise to meddle with Voldemort's things.

The Dark Lord had asked him to find this little notebook and keep it safe until such time as it might be needed. Lucius had been warned that it held powers beyond his imagination, powers that could resurrect a younger image of Lord Voldemort himself. While Lucius believed implicitly in everything his master told him, even he shivered to think what might happen, were a second Lord Voldemort to appear on the scene.

So he closed the diary and instead took out a blank sheet of parchment. At least he could report that he had been successful.

Lord Voldemort stood gazing out of the window into the black night. In his hand he held a tall goblet filled with a poison-green coloured potion. He lowered his face and breathed in the reek of burnt flesh, snake venom, blood and foul-smelling herbs. This mixture was revolting. But if revolting potions were what it took to protect him from mortal death, then so be it. He took a sip and shuddered. The part of him that still had normal human reactions wanted to spit the stuff straight out again, yet he kept it down and waited patiently for the rotten taste to go away.

There was a knock on the heavy wooden door.

"Who is it?" he called irritably.

"Leonard Lestrange, Master," came the reply.

Ah - at long last. Voldemort had been waiting for this. Hesitating only briefly, he raised the goblet to his mouth and drained it in one go, shook himself, set it down on a table and made sure he had regained his composure before he called,

"Come in!"

Lestrange entered at once, striding into the room and bowing low before the Dark Lord.

"Master, we have been successful," he said, and his voice was eager. "I met Vindictus Lothian in Hogsmeade tonight and he is here, my lord."

"Excellent!" Lord Voldemort replied, rewarding his loyal servant by bestowing a rare excess of appreciation. "You have done well, Leonard."

Lestrange bowed again.

"Thank you, Master."

"Where is Vindictus now?"

"Outside the door to this very room, my lord."

"Ah. Then go," Voldemort commanded. "I'm sure your wife will be anxious to see you. Go and find her, and send Vindictus in to me."

"Very well, my lord," Lestrange promised humbly, withdrawing with his head still lowered.

Voldemort strode over to the table set between two chairs by the empty fireplace and filled two glasses of wine. He heard the door open and close again behind him, and the familiar heavy footfall he knew so well from years of sharing a dormitory with the man it belonged to.

He turned, a crooked smile on his face, and opened his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. In the doorway stood a tall man dressed in a black hooded cloak. The door fell shut behind him.

"Welcome home, Vindictus," said Voldemort. "It is good to see you again."

Lothian bowed his head under the voluminous black hood.

"And you."

Voldemort kept up his exaggerated friendliness.

"Take off your cloak, my friend, and have a glass of wine," he suggested, indicating a chair.

Lothian pushed back his hood, undid the clasp of his cloak and hung it on top of a stone statue that stood by the door. He sat in the chair Voldemort pointed him to, and the Dark Lord himself sat down opposite, passing him a glass and raising his own.

"To freedom, eh, Vindictus?"

"I'll drink to that," the other man said, and he emptied his glass in almost a single gulp.

They sat on in silence for a moment before Lothian said,

"I must thank you for getting me out of Azkaban."

Voldemort waved his thanks away.

"Please, it was nothing. The least I could do for my old school friend." He leaned forward confidentially. "Besides, I need you, and for a very special task."

"Oh yes?" Lothian sounded sceptical.

He held out his glass, and Voldemort refilled it.

"Yes. I don't know if you remember, but not long before your arrest, one of our young supporters at Hogwarts wrote to me, and told me of a prediction made by their Divination teacher."

"A seer?"

"There seems to be some doubt as to that. Many of her predictions so far, I'm told, have been little more than lucky guesses, and not too many of those. And yet - our young friend assures me that this time was very different from her usual ramblings, and even the other teachers seemed to believe their was something in it."

"And what did she predict?"

"That someone would come who has the power to defeat me."

"You?" Lothian exclaimed. "Impossible!"

"So I should hope. But this is one case where I feel it wiser to put safety first. She said that the one who can destroy me is the heir of Gryffindor, Vindictus. And that is where you come in."

"Me?"

"Yes." Voldemort leaned forward. "You know the last surviving members of that bloodline better than anyone. Your wife, and that decrepit old fool, her father. I want you to either bring them to me, or find out where they are so I can seek them out and kill them before they have the chance to catch up with me."

He sat back in his chair and added musingly,

"I would rather go out and face them than sit and wait for them to find me."

"But I tried to find my wife years ago when she first left me," Lothian interjected doubtfully. "She covered her tracks well, as you know. I looked for her for years, and I never found a trace of her. She probably left the wizarding world and went to live with Muggles. And as for her father ..."

"Gordon Gryffindor will have protected himself well, no doubt. Nevertheless, I must have them both. You will redouble your efforts, Vindictus, and you will have the help of the Death Eaters. Unless ..." - he leaned forward, frowning - "You object to hunting down your wife for me to kill."

Lothian held his gaze.

"I have no love left in me for Bridget," he promised. "I will do anything you say, of course. But surely - no witch or wizard could ever match your strength, therefore how can either of them really pose a threat to you? Surely you don't fear anyone, let alone any heir of Gryffindor?"

Voldemort had been sipping his wine continuously all the time. He now finished it, and rose to stand by the window and look out once more.

"Only a fool fears no one, Vindictus," he said slowly. "I am confident in my magical skills, but there are powers even I cannot control - or shall we say, not yet. For I feel that I am coming closer by the day to my goal of conquering all the powers of the world - including death."

Lothian looked up and studied the figure silhouetted by the pale moonlight. He recalled Tom Riddle as he had known him in their schooldays: a tall, dark, handsome youngster with courage, ambition, vision, and yes - charm. He compared that to what he was looking at now: a man with skin that looked waxy, stretched, as though it wasn't really his own, but had been forced to cover his bones, his nose unnaturally flat, his eyes cold and empty. The contrast unsettled him, or rather horrified him. If this was the price of immortality, did anyone really want it? Inwardly, Lothian reproached himself for asking such foolish questions. Obviously, immortality was just what Tom Riddle did want, had always desired most. Immortality and unlimited power ...

"Yes," Voldemort said, more to himself than his companion. "I will conquer death. The world will be my realm, and all the creatures in it my loyal subjects. At present they still think they can resist me, but in the end all will submit to my will - including Albus Dumbledore."

Lothian grew a trifle startled at the venom in Voldemort's voice.

"Dumbledore? What does he have to do with this?"

"Dumbledore never trusted me. I am sure, if there is opposition for us to face, then he will be behind it. But we will purge it, won't we, old friend?"

"Of course, Tom."

Voldemort frowned.

"You know, Vindictus, that I dislike being called by that name."

Taken aback, Lothian murmured an apology. Voldemort waved it aside.

"You are the only one whom I will suffer to call me that. But when the others are with us, you will address me as they do, is that understood?"

Vindictus Lothian smiled.

"Yes, my lord."

Voldemort turned back towards the window and drew a deep breath through his flattened nostrils.

"Already my name is feared," he said. "Many wizards and witches are afraid to speak it. Before long, they will all be afraid. None will dare to oppose me."

The Close of the School Year

Remus was haunted by the near-disaster of Boxing Day for many months after. But by the time the cool breezes and sweet smells of spring had given way to the heat and buzz of the summer, he had almost forgotten that he had nearly attacked two people in Hogsmeade that night.

The O.W.L. exams hadn't been too bad, and then, two days ago, Remus had had a letter that had wiped all worry from his mind for a while. He was eagerly anticipating what his friends would say when they heard ...

It was with a light heart and an unusual amount of optimism, therefore, that he lay on his stomach in a patch of grass on the last day before they travelled home, making notes in a small book while Sirius, his eyes closed, lay on his back chewing a stalk of grass. Peter sat reading a book his sister Pippa had sent him.

The three had been sharing the sun like this for about an hour when James finally dropped to the ground beside Sirius.

"Hello," Sirius said past the grass in his mouth. "You took your time, didn't you? I thought you just wanted a quick word?"

"Well, I couldn't just cut her off in mid sentence and leave her there, could I?"

"Oh no," Sirius agreed mockingly.

"That would have been most impolite," Peter added in the same tone.

"She wouldn't have like that," Remus put in without looking up from the notebook.

James started to say something, but at that moment Lily crossed the grounds a little way away and he automatically waved to her. Sirius, Peter and Remus exchanged glances and burst out laughing. James scowled at them all and they tried to make their faces straight again.

"It's all right, Prongs," Sirius laughed. "No need to worry yet. I'll let you know when I think you're in serious danger of falling for her."

"Yes," Peter added, laughing too. "Like when she starts getting you to carry her bag to lessons for you."

Sirius stopped laughing.

"For your information, Mr. Wormtail," he said, "Aurora had seriously twisted her arm in Care of Magical Creatures, and it was for that reason alone that I, being a perfect gentleman, volunteered to carry her bag for her."

This time James laughed too.

"Yes, but she does have two arms, doesn't she?"

Sirius frowned, but James nudged him playfully and at last he joined in the fun. Peter suddenly sighed.

"Oh, I'm going to miss you three during the summer," he said. "My mother has insisted we should all go and visit Paula and Leonard, and I'm really dreading it. I don't think Polly really wants us there, either. And Pippa's off to Italy for three weeks to stay with a friend, so I'll hardly be seeing her. What with that, and not seeing you all summer ..."

"Don't look so gloomy, Peter. I think I can cheer you up," Remus said, clapping his book shut and sitting up. "I wasn't going to tell you all until tomorrow on the train, but ... I had a letter from my mum, and she says she and my dad were thinking of inviting your mother, James, to come and stay with us for a week or two. Of course, you're invited too - all three of you," he finished triumphantly.

"Yes!" Sirius cheered.

"Great!" Peter cried.

"That's brilliant," said James. "I'm sure we'll have lots of fun at your place. Didn't you say something about a forest near there?"

Remus shook his head.

"Not just near - our house is right in the middle of it. It's a really big woodland with lots to explore - there are even a few caves higher up - and I can show you all the best spots and hideouts."

James smiled. He had wondered why his friend had seemed so much happier since the owl post had arrived the other morning. Now he knew why. It obviously meant a lot to Remus to be able to have his friends around him this summer, and that made James feel happier, too. He hated it when he could see one of his friends was worried.

A House Full

Remus could hardly wait for his friends to arrive. It seemed like ages since he had seen them, yet only a few weeks had passed since that day in the grounds of Hogwarts. After lunch, he went out and stood leaning against a stump of wood in the front garden, picking the daisies to pieces. A while later, his father came out and joined him.

"Why don't you come inside, Remus?" he said. "You know that with Uncle Malcolm picking them up, it's likely to be a while before they get here."

Remus frowned. Uncle Malcolm was notorious for his lack of punctuality.

"I wish you could have picked them up instead."

John Lupin smiled.

"Unfortunately, Remus, I don't have a car. And I could hardly go walking round London with a supply of broomsticks under my arm."

"I suppose not," Remus admitted grudgingly. "But I wish Uncle Malcolm would hurry."

"He mentioned something he had to do for Professor Dumbledore first," his father explained. "So they probably won't be here for another hour or more yet."

"What's he doing for Dumbledore?" Remus asked immediately.

John looked up at the house, where he knew his wife was busy getting mattresses and sleeping bags ready in Remus's bedroom.

"Come," he said, placing his hand on his son's shoulder and leading him away from the open window overlooking the front garden.

When they had walked to the edge of the trees, he stopped. Remus looked at his father expectantly. John spoke quietly and earnestly.

"Like me, your Uncle Malcolm has been very busy for Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. He knows a lot of people in London and elsewhere, people from all walks of life, who again know a lot of other people. Malcolm's been talking to them, getting them to agree to keep their eyes and ears open and warn him if they think anything untoward is going to happen, so that he can alert the Aurors."

"You mean he's formed a spy network?"

"You could call it that."

"That's - well - terribly dangerous, isn't it? It would be easy for one of those spies to switch sides and inform on Uncle Malcolm, to trap him with false information and ..."

John shifted uncomfortably and briefly closed his eyes, nodding slowly.

"Yes, it is dangerous. Then again, anyone who volunteers to become involved in the fight against Voldemort is voluntarily facing danger, possibly even death - myself included."

Remus started.

"Dad ..." he began.

John saw the fear in his eyes and his own softened.

"Don't worry, Remus. I'm not eager to die a heroic death. I will be as careful as I know how. As I hope you will, too."

"Me?"

"Yes. Your decision to join Professor Darkhardt's group may prove no less dangerous than the choice I have made. In a way it's a kind of intermediate step before joining the fight proper on Dumbledore's side, I suppose. And that, as you've said yourself, is dangerous. You too might come up against Voldemort and his supporters some time."

"If I do, I'll be ready for it," Remus assured him. "Professor Darkhardt's a good teacher."

"Yes, I dare say he is. But even he can't prepare you fully for the atrocities Voldemort is capable of."

Remus nodded to show his understanding, and his father smiled.

"Come," he said. "Let's go back to the house - and not a word of this to your mother. Promise?"

"Of course, Dad."

Malcolm stopped the car and looked up at the block of flats. This must be it. He got out and rang the doorbell. Almost immediately, a young lad's voice spoke through the intercom.

"Who's there?"

"Malcolm Marley," said Malcolm.

The buzzer sounded, and he pushed the door open and went in. There was no elevator, and he didn't know what floor the Potters lived on anyway, so Malcolm walked up the stairs until he came across an open door. A lot of noise was issuing from inside the flat. Malcolm knocked on the open door and cleared his throat. A tall, dark boy immediately poked his head around the corner of a door to the left, withdrew and reappeared a moment later, followed by another boy with hair that was equally black, wearing glasses, and a shorter, chubbier boy who looked a little nervous of the visitor.

"Hello," the tall boy said. Malcolm recognised his voice as the one that had spoken to him over the intercom. "So you're Remus's uncle?"

"I am," Malcolm replied truthfully. "And you must be Sirius Black."

"Yes. How did you know that?" the youngster asked.

"Remus talks about you a lot. He says Sirius Black and James Potter look just like brothers, except that James wears glasses. Therefore, you must be Sirius."

James laughed.

"That's right," he said, holding out his hand to shake Malcolm's. "And I, obviously, am James. This is Peter Pettigrew."

Malcolm shook all the boys' hands in turn. He studied the shy-looking Peter for a moment.

"I've heard about you too," he said, "from your sister."

Peter looked startled. "Oh - err - which one?"

"Philippa."

"You know Pippa?"

"I've met her a few times," Malcolm said. "Nice girl."

Peter smiled proudly, and his nervousness seemed to vanish almost instantly. Sirius shook his head in mild irritation. Honestly, Pete was nuts when it came to that sister of his. Not that Sirius pretended not to like her - he did. But he sometimes got the impression that his friend cared more about his sister than anyone else in the world, and sometimes showed it a little too plainly.

"Ready to go?" Malcolm asked.

"More or less," James answered. "If my mum is. Hold on."

He disappeared through a door at the back and called. A moment later, he returned with Bridget.

"Hello," she said.

Malcolm shook hands with her.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Potter."

James and Sirius had brought the cases forward out of the bedroom, and they, Malcolm and Peter carried one each down the stairs. The three boys squeezed on the back seat, Bridget got in the front, and soon they were struggling Muggle-style through the London traffic.

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived. Remus was waiting outside the front door.

"Mum, Dad, they're here!" he called towards the house, running up to seize each of his friends by the arm as they got out of the car.

Faith and John came out of the house and joined them, and John and Malcolm began carrying the suitcases into the house, while Remus and his friends at once headed off into the woods, though his mother did call after them to remind them supper would be at six. Faith led Bridget indoors.

"It's not much, I'm afraid," she said a trifle apologetically when she had shown the other woman around the house and brought her back into the living room, where John was now pouring tea.

Bridget looked around her. The Lupins' living room was small, but somehow very welcoming and homely. Faith Lupin's brother Malcolm sat in an armchair, telling his brother-in-law about the amazing amount of traffic in London, while John spread the cups around the small table.

"I think it's wonderful," Bridget said eagerly, watching a pair of knitting needles clicking away by themselves while the violin that floated in the corner began playing a soft tune.

"It's been such ages since I was in a house that was owned by a wizarding family, Mrs. Lupin."

"Please," Faith interrupted, "call us by our first names, won't you?"

She indicated a chair and Bridget sat down, smiling.

"Thank you."

She watched Faith go over and sit on the arm of her husband's chair while he dropped a lump of sugar in a cup, stirred it and handed it to his wife. Inwardly, Bridget sighed. They looked such a happy couple. And that reminded her of the happiness she had missed.

Remus took his friends straight to his favourite spot.

"Here," he said proudly. "This is where I used to come to read my books. I hid some things in a box by the trunk of this tree. Here ..."

He pushed aside the grass and showed them his old 'treasure chest'.

"What sort of things d'you keep in it?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, old newspaper cuttings that interested me. A picture of my parents. An old pebble I found years ago that I liked."

James strolled about among the trees and touched Remus's favourite tree.

"There's a spot up there," Remus told him, "where the branches fork and form a kind of seat."

James peered up with interest.

"May I?" he asked.

"Of course."

James began climbing the tree, and the others followed behind. When they were all up among its branches, Sirius said appraisingly,

"Nice place, this. I wish I'd had a place I could go and hide. There were always too many people about at the orphanage for me to really find a secret spot no one knew about."

"I always had too much space and no one to share it with," Remus sighed. "I love this place. More than any other place in the world. The only other person apart from you who knows about it is my dad."

"Your dad?" Sirius seemed taken aback. "What good's a hiding place if your parents know about it?"

Remus smiled.

"That's what I used to think," he said. "But in the end I was glad my dad found it ..."

His voice faded and his eyes took on a dreamy look. James watched his face and debated asking what exactly had happened. But in the end he decided that perhaps some things were better left unsaid, and just patted Remus on the shoulder.

"You have a great home, Moony," he said. "Somehow I think we're going to have a lot of fun during the next couple of weeks.

Disaster in Diagon Alley

The boys had a great time venturing further and further into the woods, climbing trees, building a tree house in an old oak and playing Quidditch in a clearing. Malcolm had taken the first week of their stay off work, and spent a lot of time with them.

Remus's friends - especially Peter, who got on uncommonly well with him - all decided they liked his uncle. He wasn't like most adults, always reminding them of meal times, getting them to clean up the mess they made or telling them to behave more sensibly. Though in his early forties by now, he remained young at heart, like the 'overgrown child' his sister called him, and enjoyed mischief and muck as much as they did.

Often Remus's mother would smile when the five of them came trudging home of an evening, covered in dry dirt and scratches from having forced their way through in between trees in places where there were no paths, and once they were so filthy that she seized her brother by the sleeve, marched him straight back out into the garden and told the garden hose to shower him.

Remus could not remember when he had last laughed so much. He had been so involved in his studies at Hogwarts, and in Darkhardt's classes, that he had almost forgotten what fun it was to be home and what a wonderful, happy family he had. The presence of James, Sirius and Peter, of course, made being at home even more enjoyable.

The others, for their part, were also having the time of their lives, and James sat down nearly every other evening to write a letter to Lily, telling her how much fun he was having - and the others actually let him do so without teasing, because they were far too busy plotting the next day's adventure.

"How about a nice game of Quidditch this morning?" Malcolm suggested at breakfast on Saturday.

"Brill!" Sirius enthused at once.

"Great!" said Peter.

"Not half," James agreed.

"Yes," Remus said, then he turned to his father. "Will you play too, Dad?"

"Well ..." John looked across at Faith. "The ladies did want me to go with them to Diagon Alley today."

His wife laughed at the wistful, half-pleading look in his eyes.

"It's all right, John. You can stay here and play with the boys as far as I'm concerned. I'm sure Bridget and I will be ages looking round the shops, and we'll be fine on our own, won't we, Bridget?"

Bridget looked a little uncomfortable. It had been many years since she had spent more than a half hour or so out in the wizard community and she was feeling a trifle nervous, especially with all the reports of Dark activities these days. If she was honest, the knowledge that John would be with them had made her feel safer about this shopping trip. Nevertheless, she daren't let her concern show.

"Of course," she said as brightly as she could. "I'm sure Quidditch will be much more fun for you than looking at robe material in Madam Malkin's with us."

"Excellent!" John smiled broadly. "In that case, boys, I'm all yours."

The women left through the fireplace at around eleven, and the two men and four boys immediately set out with their brooms to a large clearing where they would have ample room for their game. They made up two teams. Malcolm, James and Peter played on one side, John, Remus and Sirius on the other. John magicked two large wooden hoops into the air to act as goalposts.

They decided to play with only one goalpost per team, since there were only six of them altogether, and they would all be chasers, since they only had the one ball and they all wanted to participate in the chase for it.

A lively, very noisy game ensued, where James constantly outmanoeuvred the others and would have scored one goal after the other, if John hadn't proved so fast on his broom, racing to defend the goal and keeping the score to thirty-nil.

"Remus!" he shouted, throwing the ball to his son.

Remus sped off as fast as he could, flattening himself against the broom. He had a clear shot ...

"Stop him, Peter!" James yelled.

Peter spun his broom around and charged just as the ball left Remus's hand and flew towards the goal. Peter intercepted it neatly and tucked it under his arm, turned his broom - and in his excitement let the ball slip straight through the hoop he was supposed to be guarding.

"I'm sorry!" he cried at once.

James groaned quietly. Malcolm, however, flew over to Peter and patted him on the shoulder.

"It's all right," he said kindly. "Could have happened to anyone."

James looked across the 'pitch' and grinned at Sirius, who was rolling his eyes at him. James grinned, flew down to pick up the ball, and the game continued. They played until about two o'clock, when, pleasantly tired-out and hungry, they returned to the house.

John went into the kitchen and got out the delicious sandwiches and iced pumpkin juice Faith had prepared for them that morning. They all tucked in to the sandwiches covered thickly in ham, tuna, cheese and cucumber.

"What are we getting up to after lunch?" Sirius asked past a mouthful of ham and pumpkin juice.

"We could follow the little stream uphill to the caves," Remus suggested eagerly.

"Sounds great," James said. "It's got so hot out, I could do with spending some time in a cool cave."

"You'll find quite a network of those up there," John told him. "You'd better take something to eat and drink with you, I expect you'll be gone some time."

"What'll you do, Dad?" Remus asked.

"I think I'll sit in the garden and finish my book," John answered. "How about you, Malcolm?"

Malcolm swallowed a bite of tuna sandwich.

"There's someone I have to see in London this afternoon, so I think I'll head back home after lunch."

And so, when the plates were empty and they had all eaten and drunk as much as they could, the boys set off alone into the woods, following Remus's lead.

It was a hot afternoon, even in the shade of the large pink umbrella outside old Florander Fortescue's ice cream parlour. Faith and Bridget enjoyed a large ice cream each and watched the wizarding world go by, happy with their purchases sitting in large shopping bags beside their chairs. Wizard children played in the street, and all the little shops had their doors wide open.

"I must say this has been a most enjoyable day," Bridget sighed contentedly. "It's been a long time since I went out on a shopping spree round magic shops with a friend."

Faith smiled.

"You don't normally get out much, do you?"

"Oh, I do. I mean, I go out with friends from work, but of course they're all Muggles, so we can only go to Muggle shops and cafés."

"Really?" Faith said interestedly. This was the first time in a week that she had heard Bridget mention what her life was normally like. "Where do you work?" she asked.

"In a little bookshop. I don't get paid much, of course, but it's enough to keep James and me in our little flat."

"I hope I'm not intruding, but - haven't you ever considered changing your job? Finding something in the wizarding world?"

Bridget shook her head.

"I can't do that. I try to stay away from the magical community as much as possible."

"But why?"

"For - personal reasons."

"Oh."

"We all have our secrets, Faith. Everyone has a skeleton in the cupboard. Even though I fail to see what yours might be."

She smiled sweetly, but Faith suddenly became thoughtful and withdrawn.

"Sorry," said Bridget. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no. You're right, of course. We all have our secrets," Faith admitted, "John and I are no exception. Our secret has led to our being - cut off from some people we used to know. You're not the only one, Bridget, for whom it's been a long time without a good friend to go on an outing like this with."

"I'm sorry," Bridget apologised. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You haven't," Faith assured her. "It's just that ... I would like to trust you. I think, or rather I hope, that you would not react as others have done. I'm tired of being shunned by people I used to consider friends. But I can't explain now. Not here."

"All right," Bridget said. "I understand. But I'm sure that, whatever it is, I would never turn my back on you and John. You've both been so kind and I ..."

She broke off. Suddenly everything had gone very quiet. The children's laughter had stopped, and a strange tenseness seemed to descend on Diagon Alley. Several people appeared from the other end of the street, rushing past the ice cream parlour in hasty silence.

"What is it, what's the matter?" Faith asked, startled.

She turned around in her seat and her next words caught in her throat. A green light was issuing from the entrance to Knockturn Alley, and a number of people appeared, all cloaked and hooded in black despite the heat of the day, their faces covered by masks. About five detached themselves from the larger group and walked straight up to the now-closed door of a shop on the corner. One of them raised his wand arm and the door blasted apart, the shards of its small window scattered across the paved ground. The masked figures entered, and soon a scream pierced the quiet, a high, terrified squeal that made them jump. Faith trembled. Bridget grasped her hand and, with a calm that surprised no one more than herself, she turned to Florander Fortescue, who stood behind her.

"Whose shop is that?" she asked the old wizard.

"Toby Jones's. He sells Muggle artefacts to collectors. Electrical plugs, those ... erm ... light bulb things ..."

"He's muggle-born?"

"Yes, and I believe his wife is a Muggle."

At that moment, they were interrupted by a gasp from the crowd that had gathered around Fortescue's, surveying the scene from what they considered a safe distance. Bridget looked down the street in time to see the cloaked figures march Toby Jones, his wife and a small girl onto the street. Some of the others were now moving into buildings on either side of Diagon Alley, all, as Florander confirmed, owned by muggle-borns or those with Muggle spouses.

Faith's attention was still fixed on the first group that had appeared. One of the masked people raised a wand and pointed it at one of the children. He began to chant a curse, a flash of green light appeared, there was a scream ... the child fell lifeless to the floor. Its parents ran forward, devastated, but more flashes of green light followed and they too fell. Faith jumped to her feet, crying out involuntarily, and turned away, covering her eyes with her hand. Bridget got up and patted her shoulder.

"We have to do something," she said to Florander. "It looks like they're planning to either torture or kill every muggle-born in Diagon Alley. That they would even harm an innocent child ..."

"I never thought that it could come to this," old Florander said. "I realised there were bad things going on in the world, but I never fully understood ... How did things get so bad?"

"I can't answer that. But I won't stand by and watch them get worse. I'm going down there," Bridget announced far more bravely than she felt, taking out her wand. "Is anyone coming with me?"

Florander Fortescue immediately nodded and reached for his own wand. A few of the others standing around did the same.

"Bridget," Faith began, but Bridget cut her short.

"We're going to try and keep them busy now, Faith. Maybe they'll decide it's safer to retreat if we put up a good fight. You wait here, but keep an eye on the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as you see an opening, run in there and contact the Ministry at once, all right?"

Faith nodded. "Good luck, Bridget. Please be careful."

Bridget gave what she hoped would pass as an encouraging smile, then she and the group of people around her moved slowly towards the black-robed figures. Bridget's heart beat fast with fear. She had never considered herself to be a brave person, and was still amazed that she was doing this. And yet ... as she marched down the street and a few of the masked figures turned to face her, she remembered the words the Sorting Hat had spoken to her long ago, on her first day at Hogwarts.

*You will find your courage,* it had said. *You may not feel very brave right now, but when the time comes and the need arises, you will not stand by and let others suffer while you have the strength to fight for them.*

Strength? She certainly didn't feel very strong. Some of the people wearing masks were beginning to form a ring around their colleagues and the poor witches, wizards and children they had herded onto the street. One of them raised his arm to perform a curse, but a man somewhere behind Bridget was faster and disarmed him. A wizard fight began, the like of which had not been seen for many years, and certainly not in Diagon Alley, once considered a safe haven for wizardkind.

Spells and charms, hexes and curses flashed back and forth. The line broke up and the fight became more of a mixed fray, with some wizards and witches using bare hands after having dropped their wands, the cloaked figures casting killing curses at everyone they could hit and Bridget and the others trying to block them, to stun the casters before their curses struck or at least disarm them.

Bridget looked around her. Diagon Alley had been turned into a battlefield. Many of the cloaked figures lay stunned on the ground, but beside them lay too many innocent men and women, not to mention a few children. And it was still far from over. She caught old Florander's eye and saw the same despair there that she was feeling. All of a sudden, he shouted to her to look out. Bridget spun around, but Florander's spell was fast, and her assailant fell at her feet. Turning back to thank the old man, Bridget's eyes widened with shock. There was a flash of green light, and another attacker's curse caught Florander Fortescue in the back.

"Noooooo!" she screamed, but it was much too late.

He was dead before he hit the ground. Bridget found herself face to face with his killer, and amid the chaos saw his eyes under the voluminous hood. Her heart gave a leap of terror. She would recognise those eyes anywhere ... For a split second, the world seemed to stand still. Then someone stumbled between them, and Bridget grasped the opportunity. She turned and ran flat out towards the Leaky Cauldron. The fight behind her no longer mattered. A second earlier, she had been willing to risk her life if that meant saving a few others, but now all that had changed. Whatever happened, this man must never catch up with her, because if he did, James would be in danger ...

Faith had just opened the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and Bridget shoved her through roughly, dragging her past the astonished barman. They burst out through the door onto the busy London street, and Bridget looked around her desperately.

"Bridget, what ...?"

"There, an underground station!" Bridget cried, cutting Faith's question short and pushing her through the crowd.

And not a moment too soon. Pulling his hood back and whipping his mask off his face, Vindictus Lothian came right behind them. Bridget knew he was there as she brusquely transported Faith down the stairs. For once she was grateful that the tube was so full. She forced a path for both of them to get on the train and looked out. She saw Vindictus race onto the platform and prayed for the doors to close quickly, before he reached them.

Reunion

"Hello," Remus said when he and the others got back to the cottage. "Still reading, Dad? Isn't Mum back yet?"

"No," his father answered, sounding puzzled. "I know she likes shops, but I didn't think they'd be gone this long."

James checked his watch. "Six o'clock, nearly."

John frowned and was about to speak when a large owl suddenly swooped down and dropped a note in his lap. John opened it at once and read it silently. As he did so, he paled.

"What is it, Dad?" Remus asked.

John looked up, allowing the note to slip a fraction. Sirius, looking over his shoulder, uttered an exclamation. He unceremoniously grabbed the note and read,

"John, Just had bad news from Ministry. Suggest you come to Diagon Alley immediately. There's no time to lose. I'll meet you there. Malcolm."

"Something's happened," Peter said.

Sirius agreed. James and Remus said nothing, but Remus's jaw looked tight, and James's heart felt like it was about to leap right out of his chest. John got to his feet and at once collected his wand and lit a fire in the living room. The boys followed.

"I want you all to stay here," John said, but Remus shook his head.

"No, Dad, we're coming."

John looked like he wanted to protest, but decided it was pointless. He handed them a pinch of floo powder each and moments later, they all stepped out of the fireplace in the back room of the Leaky Cauldron. The place was deserted, but just as they were about to leave the room, Malcolm rushed in through the door. He seemed taken aback to see that the boys had come too and stopped short.

"Malcolm, what's happened?" John enquired urgently.

Malcolm shot a concerned glance at the boys.

"I don't know that you boys ought to see this."

"Malcolm!" John urged.

"You'd better come and see for yourself," Malcolm sighed reluctantly.

John and the boys followed him through the brick wall into Diagon Alley. The sight that met their eyes took their breath away. Ministry officials were picking their way among a heap of bodies, some unconscious, others obviously dead, that lay strewn across the street. Around the edge of the slaughter stood many witches and wizards of varying ages, some distraught and grieving, some curious, some looking scared out of their wits.

Above this scene, floating among the houses and blotting out the evening sun, soared the hideous shape John had seen here once before: a huge green skull of smoke with a serpent in its mouth. James heard Sirius draw a sharp breath between his teeth just behind him. Peter whimpered quietly until Malcolm came up and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you four had to see this," he said, "but perhaps it is just as well for you to know exactly what you're up against."

John said nothing. He surveyed the scene, hardly daring to look at he startled faces of the dead, yet incapable of turning away.

"John ..." Malcolm prompted gently.

But John didn't even hear him. He saw old men, young women, children no more than three or four years old, and the horrible fear gained an even firmer hold on his heart.

"Dear God," he murmured to himself. "Oh no, please ..."

He turned his face away from that of a pretty girl of about sixteen, lying with her eyes open, her back strangely twisted.

"Faith," he said hoarsely. "Malcolm, where is she?"

"I've no idea," Malcolm told him, "and I must admit I've never been so glad of not knowing something before."

"Then she's not ..." John was afraid to finish the question.

"No, she's not here. That's the first thing that I checked."

John breathed a sigh of relief.

"What about my mum?" James asked.

"There's no sign of her either."

"Well, that's a relief," Sirius exclaimed.

John turned to his son. Remus had neither moved nor spoken since they had stepped into the Alley. Now he took a few steps forward, towards the body of a small girl in a red dress. Her blonde hair was in plaits, and her lifeless fingers still clutched her doll. Remus crouched down beside her and with his trembling hand reached out to close her staring eyes. He felt his father beside him, but did not look up.

"Where can Mum be?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. But we'll find her."

Remus's voice quavered. "I'm scared, Dad. Scared she might be ..."

"No," John said forcibly, though his voice still sounded weak. "We'll find her. She'll be all right."

Finally, Remus got up and looked at his father. There had never been much likeness between them, but at that moment, John's blue eyes held precisely the same gentle look of fear as his son's brown ones.

"The thing is," Sirius said practically, "where do we start looking?"

"Excuse me," someone interrupted. It was Tom, the barman of the Leaky Cauldron. "Mr. Lupin, isn't it?"

"Yes," John confirmed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but the thing is, I saw your wife earlier."

John's heart gave a leap.

"You know where she is?"

"No, but I saw her and her friend come in the Leaky Cauldron from Diagon Alley and leave the other way. I think they were being followed."

"Followed? What, by one of the Death Eaters?"

"D-Death Eaters?" Peter stammered.

"One of my informers told me that's what these people call themselves," Malcolm explained. "The people in black. You say one of them was after my sis... Mrs. Lupin and her friend?"

Tom nodded.

"Damn," John cursed. "This is all my fault. I never should have let them go alone. I promised Dumbledore you'd all be safe with us."

"This is no time to go blaming yourself, John. Our first priority now is to find them," Malcolm reminded him.

"And pray we're not too late," John added.

"We'd better go back to my place to get my car."

Faith was trembling uncontrollably. Bridget had led her on a mad chase through London - on one tube, off again, on the next, onto a bus - zigzagging all through the town until at last, what felt like several hours later, Bridget could finally see no sign of Vindictus any more. She had then brought them back here, to her flat, and now Faith was sitting on the sofa, shivering all over.

Bridget ran into the bedroom and fetched a blanket.

"Here," she said, "wrap this around you."

Faith lay back and let Bridget tuck the blanket around her.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "It was just so - so ...."

"It's all right," Bridget said softly. "I know you must have been terrified, dear. I wish I had something to give you that would help. I wonder if ... Would you mind staying here on your own for just a moment?"

Faith's eyes widened. "Bridget, no, don't leave me!"

"I'm not. I'm just going downstairs to see if Mrs. Hammersmith has some brandy. I won't be a minute. All right?"

Faith nodded. While Bridget was gone, she tried to calm her nerves. She had never been so frightened in her entire life. To see those horrible people and what they did, purely out of hatred and the lust for power, had really shaken her up. And then there was the fact that she was like those victims. She, too, was muggle-born. She heard the sound of the door opening and waited for Bridget's footsteps. For a moment, all was quiet. Then she heard a movement, but it didn't sound like Bridget at all. Somewhere in the hall, someone bumped into something and she heard a muttered curse.

Faith pushed back the blanket and stood up shakily. She heard the creak of a floorboard as someone walked over it and backed against the wall, her eyes fixed on the doorknob. It began to turn slowly, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming. Then she heard the door to the flat open again, an the crash of breaking glass. The doorknob stopped turning.

Bridget came back up the stairs with a tumbler of brandy in her hand. She had told Mrs. Hammersmith that a friend of hers had narrowly escaped being run over by a bus. Naturally, the old girl had at once offered to come upstairs and help, to call a doctor or an ambulance or at least bring her an electric blanket, as well as launching into a heated lament over the state of the traffic these days and the way London bus drivers had no consideration.

Bridget had thanked her warmly, extracted the brandy from her fingers and, kindly but firmly, told her to keep out of the way. Now Bridget reached for the key in her pocket, went to unlock the door, and discovered it was open. She touched the handle, but the door was pulled out of her hand with such sudden force that the tumbler was jogged from her hand.

She found herself looking straight at the tip of a wand that was lowered when its holder saw her.

"Mum!" James exclaimed, letting go of the door handle.

"James," she uttered, totally relieved. "Thank God, for a minute I thought ..."

"So did we, when we heard someone coming up the stairs," Malcolm said.

"Well, I'm very glad to see you all," Bridget said. "How did you know where to look?"

"We didn't," John answered. "We hoped you'd come back here eventually. One of us was going to wait for you. I'm glad we found you so quickly. Where's Faith?"

Bridget indicated the door behind Sirius.

"She's in a terrible state, I'm afraid. The horror of it all ..."

Sirius stepped aside to let John pass. Remus wanted to follow his father, but Malcolm gripped his shoulder.

"Give them a minute," he advised.

Faith heard muffled voices in the hall, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. She took a few deep breaths and looked around. Her wand was in her bag back at Fortescue's, but she needed some kind of weapon. All she could find, however, was a heavy crystal fruit bowl. She emptied it and stood behind the door just as the knob was turned again. The door opened and Faith raised the bowl ... a hand shot up and grabbed her wrist. Faith stared.

"John!"

He gently took the bowl from her and set it down on the table. He looked at her, and for a moment they just gazed at one another. Then, just as Faith moved towards him, John opened his arms and clutched her to him. Faith began to cry.

"John, I was so frightened," she sobbed against his chest. "I wanted to help Bridget, but I wasn't brave enough. I know I should have helped, but I've just never been so scared."

"Shh," John soothed.

"I felt such a coward."

John tilted her head back with his hand and looked straight into her reddened eyes.

"You're not," he told her. "There are different kinds of courage. I've seen you show more of it than I have before now."

Faith shook her head.

"Back there in the Alley, I felt so helpless. It was people like me they were after. It was horrible."

John ran his hand over her hair.

"My poor darling," he said tenderly. "I should never have let you go alone. It won't happen again, I promise you."

"John ..."

She edged nearer, and he held her close and kissed her passionately. There was a discreet knock on the door and they drew apart.

"Hello," Malcolm said brightly. "Just thought I'd better check you weren't doing anything unpleasant to my little sister."

"Quite the contrary," Faith laughed.

"Do I get a kiss too?"

"You, Malcolm? I thought you hated that sort of thing."

"Not right now I don't," he said, embracing her tightly. Looking over to the door, Faith saw the others standing there. Bridget had one arm around James and her hand on Sirius's shoulder. Beside him stood Peter, and there ...

"Remus, love. Come here."

Remus came forward and let her hold him, allowing a few tears of relief to drip onto her shoulder before he straightened up and reminded himself that this was not the way one behaved in front of one's school friends.

"Well," Malcolm said, "This is all very nice. Now, why don't we all go back to the Leaky Cauldron and you can get home?"

"What about you?" Peter asked.

"I still have work to do. Bridget ..."

"Yes?"

"The Death Eater who followed you - did you see him? I mean, would you recognise him if you saw him again?"

"Yes."

Malcolm was taken aback at the certainty in her voice.

"You sound very positive about this."

"I am. I can tell you just about everything you need to know about him. You see, I - know him rather well."

"Oh?"

Bridget went to sit on the sofa and looked up into all the expectant faces around her.

"His name is Vindictus Lothian," she announced.

James reeled as though someone had just thrown a bucket of cold water over his head.

"What, you mean the man who followed you from the Leaky Cauldron was James's dad?!" Sirius cried.

Faith uttered an exclamation, then she looked around her, aware that no one else had reacted as she had.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm the only one here who's surprised by this news?" she asked suspiciously.

John sighed and, taking her hand, led her to sit beside Bridget.

"Vindictus Lothian is a Death Eater - one of Lord Voldemort's closest supporters. In fact, I believe he's been a friend of Voldemort's for many years."

He glanced at Bridget, who nodded.

"They were at school together."

"Go on," Faith prompted.

"Some months back, Lothian was caught torturing Muggles," Malcolm said. "He was arrested and sent to Azkaban. It was in the Daily Prophet."

"Oh, was it?"

Faith looked at John, who nodded guiltily.

"I'm sorry, love. I confess I hid that paper from you. I thought it would only upset you, and I didn't think he was that important, anyway. Lothian seemed like just another Muggle-hater who'd gone over the top. He'd been arrested and there was an end to it - or so I thought. Even when Professor Dumbledore told me who he was, I still thought it didn't matter. He was safely locked away, after all."

"Not safely enough," Malcolm said grimly.

"No place is safe with Lord Voldemort around," Bridget put in. "He's a madman, but unfortunately, he's also very powerful. I remember the first time I met him. He said that one day he would rule the world, and people would fear to speak his name. Of course, I thought it was just talk. I never realised how dangerous he really was. If I had, maybe I would have been more wary of Vindictus. As it was, I found him delightful. He could be very charming in those days. He was handsome and - experienced. He was everything I wasn't. Well, I was jut a kid at the time. Vindictus was fifteen years older than me, and he knew how to say just what I wanted to hear, and the way I wanted to hear it. Oh, he was a soft talker."

Bridget looked at Faith.

"I told you, Faith, we all have a skeleton in our cupboards. Vindictus is mine. I married him, found out what I'd got myself into, and ran away before he knew I was pregnant. I couldn't risk him finding James. That's why I ran away when I saw him today. Still, one day I know he will catch up with me. It's inevitable."

"No, Mum!" James protested. "He won't. He mustn't!"

"We'll catch up with him first and send him back to Azkaban, where he belongs," Sirius added.

Bridget looked at them both and smiled.

"I see I have nothing to be afraid of as long as you two are around to protect me."

The Mysterious Visitor

On the Monday evening, as the sun sank down behind the trees and the hooting of the owls replaced the cries of the wood pigeons, the four boys returned to the house tired and content after visiting the caves again to find a stranger standing at the door.

He was tall and old. His face was weathered, his grey hair fell to his shoulders in straggly waves. He turned when he heard them approach and scanned each in turn.

"Can I help you, sir?" Remus asked politely.

The stranger fixed him with his iron-grey eyes.

"Are you the boy who lives here?" he asked in a husky voice. "Remus Lupin?"

"How do you know my name?"

The old man didn't answer. He studied the other three. His eyes rested a long while on James. At last he turned back to Remus.

"Is your father at home?"

"Yes," Remus replied.

Actually, of course, he wasn't sure if his father was back from work yet. He ought to be. But Remus wasn't about to explain all that to a stranger.

"Then tell him I want to speak to him."

"What name shall I tell him, sir?"

"No name," the stranger said gruffly. "Tell him the person he has been expecting has arrived. Go on," he added, in answer to the doubtful look on Remus's face.

Remus shrugged, and he and the others walked into the house.

"Dad!" Remus called. "Dad!"

John appeared from the kitchen at once.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"There's a man outside who wants to speak to you. He claims you've been expecting him."

"Ah." John wiped his hands on a tea towel. "Yes. I'd better go then."

He thrust the towel in Remus's hand and headed for the door.

It was about ten minutes later that John came back indoors. Faith left the pot to take care of dinner and walked out into the hall to talk to him.

"What's going on?" she whispered. "Remus said some stranger had turned up. Who is he?"

John silenced her question with a wave of his hand and strode briskly into the kitchen.

"What is it, Dad?" Remus asked, pushing a glass of pumpkin juice aside.

John turned to Bridget.

"Bridget, there's a visitor for you," he said. "I asked him to come in, but he said he'd rather wait outside."

"For me?" Bridget asked, looking up from the table, where the knives and forks were arranging themselves tidily. "Who would visit me? Who knows I'm here?"

"Why don't you go and find out?" John suggested.

Bridget shot him a puzzled look.

Bridget stepped outside. It was still quite light out, but she couldn't see anyone about.

"Hello?" she called.

Her eyes caught sight of a slight movement among the trees. She walked towards it cautiously and saw that there was indeed someone standing there, gazing up at the stars. All she could see was the back of a tall man with grizzled hair. He turned at the soft tread on the grass behind him, and Bridget recognised him with a thrill of shock.

"You?!" she exclaimed.

Gordon Gryffindor stared back at her sternly.

"Yes, me. Why, were you expecting someone else?"

"I wasn't expecting anyone. But when John said I had a visitor, I certainly never guessed it would be you."

"He had the sense not to tell you, then. I don't suppose you'd have come if he had."

"Well," Bridget said defiantly, "I have come. I can't think what you're doing here, mind you. But, if you have anything to say to me, then say it and let's get this over with."

"I thought maybe you'd like to start."

"With what?" Bridget demanded. "Look, if you've come here expecting me to grovel for your forgiveness, you needn't have bothered. I've been down on my knees in my life before now and you never lifted a finger to help me, I see no reason why I should get down on my knees before you now. I've done fine without you so far, and I don't see why you had to turn up now all of a sudden."

The old man gave a cynical laugh.

"Oh yes, you've done fine, I can see that. You messed up your life before it had really begun, you picked yourself a good-for-nothing husband and then ran away because you couldn't stick it, you rented a cramped little flat in a filthy little side street, you have a son who's never met his father and probably has no idea who he really is ... A fine life indeed!"

"I don't have to listen to this!" Bridget retorted hotly. "James would not have had to grow up that way if you hadn't cast me aside. He may not have had the best childhood imaginable, but he's had a far happier one than I did. I'll admit I've regretted many things in my life, but never anything where James is concerned, and I won't have you use him against me. At least I will always have the certainty of knowing that my child loves me!"

Gordon winced as if he had been hit by something hard. Bridget looked at him defiantly, but was suddenly startled as she noticed the change that had come over him in the years since she had last seen him. This was not how she remembered him. The broad shoulders were slightly hunched, the tall frame looked tired, his hair so much greyer, his face lined with care, and the eyes - she remembered them staring at her, cold and forbidding. Yet now they seemed to hold only sorrow and weariness.

"I'm sorry," he said in his husky voice. "I didn't realise things were that bad between us."

"Father, I ... I didn't mean ..."

"Didn't you?" he said sadly. "It sounded like you did. It certainly struck home."

"Forgive me," she replied quietly.

"I thought you weren't going to ask me for forgiveness."

Bridget started to protest, but was cut short by the smile that played about his lips.

"You should never have run off like you did," Gordon said. "When you discovered what a scoundrel the man was - why didn't you come to me?"

Bridget laughed dryly.

"To you? And give you the satisfaction of admonishing me, of saying 'I told you so' at every opportunity, rubbing salt in the wound? To have you tell me it was all my own fault?"

"You're right," he admitted. "I probably would have done that."

"The problem is, you'd have been right," Bridget sighed, softening.

Gordon shook his head.

"No. At least part of the fault was mine as well. If I hadn't lost my temper so frequently, if I hadn't tried to force you into seeing what was good for you, you might not have been so hasty. I tried to bind you to me by force, and all I succeeded in doing was pushing you further away."

Bridget stared at him.

"You can say that? You admit that you made a mistake?"

"Yes, Bridget. A mistake that I rued for the rest of my life. I wish it had never happened."

Bridget smiled.

"I forgive you. I should have listened to you. I acted out of defiance and pride. My marriage was a mistake, and I regretted it. But if I wished it all away, I would be wishing away James. And I can't do that."

"You love that boy so much you think he makes it worth it? Lothian's son ..."

"James can't help who his father is. If you knew him, you'd love him as I do."

"Maybe I could get to know him. Maybe you and I could start afresh."

Bridget watched his face strangely.

"Why did you suddenly decide to seek me out and speak to me after all these years? What is it that's suddenly made you decide you want to get to know James? Why this sudden outburst of family feeling?"

"Maybe I'm just getting sentimental in my old age."

"Sentimental? You? Not likely, I'd say."

He studied her curiously.

"You must think me a very hard man. I'm not. I think sentimentality did play a part. Even when Albus suggested this meeting ..."

Over an hour had passed before Bridget returned to the house. She found John still sitting in the living room. He looked up when she walked in, and for a moment they simply looked at one another. Finally, Bridget closed the door and sat down in the armchair opposite him.

"Well," John said, breaking the silence, "how did it go?"

Bridget did not answer his question directly. Instead she said,

"You knew he was coming, didn't you? And yet you didn't tell me."

"I'm sorry," John apologised. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to arrange this meeting. He said it would be safer here than anywhere else. He also seemed to think that you would refuse if you knew about it. I've wanted to tell you many times during the past week, but I'd promised Dumbledore ..."

"It's all right," Bridget said with a sudden smile. "I'm not angry with you. I was at first, just a little ... but after what my father has told me, I understand why it had to be secret."

"So, he's told you about Professor Trelawney's prediction, and why we need you to join the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes."

"Need I ask whether you agreed?"

"No, you need not ask." Bridget paused thoughtfully. "I'm frightened, John. I know it is necessary that we pledge our lives to stopping Voldemort, but I can't remember a time when I've been so afraid."

"I know. This business scares the hell out of me as well. And yet - nothing frightens me more as the thought of failing. I think that's what has brought us all together. None of us really wants to die, not even for a good cause. But worse than the fear of death is the fear of what will happen if we do nothing. And so I'm in this because of Faith. Because if Voldemort's hold on our world becomes much stronger, he may very well harm her, and I can't let that happen. I have enough courage in me to face anything he can send my way - but I would not have the courage to live with myself if anything happened to her."

"I understand. And I'm in it because of James."

John studied her face. A new kind of determination seemed to have settled there. Gone was the youthful, spirited expression she had displayed a little over a week ago, when Faith had shown her round the house and she had been enthusiastic and happy to be here. Now she looked careworn, as though the events of two days ago and the talk with her father that night had aged her by several years.

Up in Remus's room, the boys were listening to the wizard wireless.

"This is Bernard Barnaby for WWN news," the newsreader was saying. "Following the brutal attack on Diagon Alley in broad daylight this Saturday afternoon, the people a Ministry spokesman yesterday referred to as Death Eaters have perpetrated more atrocities that have shaken the magical community to its foundation.

Several tragedies have occurred all over he British isles during the past two nights. People have come home to find the hideous green skull, the mark of these Dark wizards, hovering over their homes, and their families dead. None of the bodies showed any signs of outward interference. The lack of wounds has led officials from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to the conclusion that all these people were murdered with the unforgivable killing curse.

Many witches and wizards, particularly those of Muggle descent, have stated that they no longer feel safe in their homes, let alone out of doors. Some have gone into hiding or even fled the country. I would like to take this opportunity to point out to all you listeners out there that that is no solution. We cannot let this reign of terror take hold and do no more about it than to hide. We must come together and fight back.

I appeal to everyone of my listeners tonight to stop running away from the darkness that is befalling us. Take no notice of those who tell you that these Death Eaters and their Dark Lord are too powerful to resist. Let us turn the tables on them. Let us hunt them down and lock them all away before they do irreparable damage to the way of life that we love. Don't let them oppress you. Fight them off and show them that our world is still free, whatever their plans.

This is Bernard Barnaby, WWN news. Good night."

James turned off the wireless and stepped out onto the landing just as his mother came up the stairs.

"Mum," he said.

"Hello," she replied, smiling fondly.

"I was wondering ... The old man you went out to speak to ... Who was he?"

Bridget held the smile, but avoided the question.

"What was that news broadcast about?"

"More muggle-borns have been murdered," James explained. "People are afraid to leave their homes, but they're also frightened the Death Eaters will murder them in their beds."

Bridget came up and touched his cheek.

"Are you afraid, James?" she asked.

James looked at her questioningly. He had never seen her act so strangely before.

"Yes," he admitted. "Isn't everyone?"

Again that curious smile.

"Yes, my dear. I dare say you're right."

Bridget looked across James's shoulder into the room where the other three boys were sitting, and thought of the other things her father had told her. About Professor Darkhardt's new defence lessons, Philippa Pettigrew's involvement in the fight against Voldemort ... and the secret Faith had not been able to tell her the other day. She studied Remus from a distance, and for a moment considered mentioning to James what she had found out that night. Then she decided it was silly. There could be no reason to point out to him what Remus was.

James was a smart boy, and she was sure there could be no doubt he already knew, and had probably known for many years. What worried her more was the thought of what he might have done about it. Oh, he could fool Dumbledore into believing he and his friends had accepted Remus's fate, but she knew them better. She was sure that there was something, somehow, that her son was keeping from her. She wondered whether she would ever figure out what it was.

Two days later, the Daily Prophet announced that Bernard Barnaby's wife had come home from a visit to her sister's to find the Dark Mark in the sky above her house, and her husband dead without sign of outward interference.