Three Animagi and a Werewolf

Chapter 18: Entering the 'Real World'

Homeward Bound

Nine people had died that day in Hogsmeade, including Professor Darkhardt. Several more had been seriously injured. The Death Eaters were continuing the reign of terror that had begun that day, so far back now, in Diagon Alley. The Ministry of Magic, with the exception, perhaps, only of the Department of Mysteries and the Aurors, was almost entirely in Voldemort's pocket. The Minister for Magic herself had disappeared, to be replaced by yet another of Voldemort's puppets.

What with this news to occupy their minds, the sorrow over the loss of one of their best teachers and the prospect of attending the next meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, the friends found they were far less nervous of their exams than they had been - after all, what were N.E.W.T.s compared to what was going on in the world outside Hogwarts, the world they would soon be returning to for good? The whole school seemed to be in a similar mood, for even the first and second-years were very quiet nowadays. Even the leaving feast, usually a day of noisy celebration, turned out to be a sordid affair. Black drapes lined the walls, and one chair at the staff table remained painfully empty. It was to this chair that Professor Dumbledore, rising solemnly from his own seat, turned.

"My dear students, colleagues and friends," he said. "Before we begin our meal this evening, I would like to propose a toast. To a man who placed his life in the service of the fight against the Dark Arts and of this school, who dedicated his life to preparing all of you to defend yourselves against the very greatest danger - and who gave it willingly, without doubt, hesitation or fear, for you, me ... for all of us."

The headmaster raised his goblet, and the rest of the teachers followed suit. Professor McGonagall dabbed at the corner of her eye with her finger, and Hagrid sniffed so hard that his end of the table shook.

"To Narbus Darkhardt, a brave man, and a dear friend."

All around the Great Hall, a murmur greeted his words as all the students - or nearly all - raised their own goblets and joined in the toast. Professor Dumbledore watched them with a benign smile.

"And now," he said when everyone's goblets were back beside their plates, "I know that, if Professor Darkhardt were here, he would not want this school year to end in grief over him. He would want us to hold our heads high and look to the future - and to honour the courage of those who are still among us. As those of you who studied the giant hour glasses before you entered the Hall will have noticed, points have been awarded to the students who showed outstanding presence of mind and bravery on that fateful day in Hogsmeade. These points were awarded to Miss Mary Crimple of Ravenclaw, for wasting no time in alerting her fellow students to the presence of the Dementors ..."

Cheers and clapping greeted this news, and Mary blushed furiously.

"To Mr. Peter Pettigrew of Gryffindor, Mr. Damian Diggle from Hufflepuff and Miss Lily Evans, also of Gryffindor, for taking care of the younger students and leading them safely back here ..."

Again the Great Hall cheered. Peter and Damian exchanged pleased glances - neither of them had ever earned house points before.

"To Mr. James Potter, Mr. Sirius Black and Mr. Frank Longbottom of Gryffindor, as well as to Miss Aurora Borealis of Ravenclaw, for going back to help their friend, Mr. Remus Lupin ..."

The cheering grew to a deafening pitch as everyone endeavoured to show their appreciation more loudly than their neighbours, as much as a token of recognition of the courage of their fellow students as a tribute of respect to their late teacher. Dumbledore looked down at the Gryffindor table and smiled. While he waited for the noise to die down, many heads were already turning in the direction of the person they all guessed would be mentioned next. Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He felt James's hand on his shoulder.

"And finally," he said quietly. "To Remus Lupin himself, for facing the Dementors to let the others escape."

Amid the cheers, James squeezed Remus's shoulder and Sirius thumped him hard on the back. Remus forced a smile, embarrassed by all the attention.

"This means," Dumbledore announced, that the House Cup this year goes quite unmistakably to Gryffindor."

It was amazing that the students still had it in them to clap even louder than they had before. It was another several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again.

"Now," said the headmaster, raising his hands for silence. "It is time for all of us to fill our bellies with the best of the best, and be grateful to Professor Darkhardt and all those who fill follow in his footsteps."

And with these words he sat down and mounds of food appeared on the tables. But Remus sat staring down at his empty plate for a long time, still picturing his old mentor and friend, his gruff voice, his grizzled hair, the way he fingered his scar when he was thinking ... It was a full five minutes before he realised that someone was talking to him.

"Remus? Remus," Lily was saying gently.

He looked up with a start. She was holding a bowl of potatoes out to him across the table.

"Come on, have something to eat, won't you?"

At last he nodded, and took the bowl from her.

Aurora hurried after Remus up the main staircase.

"Wait!" she called.

He stopped and let the others go by. Aurora caught up with him.

"I just wanted to congratulate you," she said. "I don't know exactly how many of those Gryffindor points were yours, but I'll bet it was a lot."

"I didn't do anything special. Any one of you would have done the same, if you'd been there."

"Perhaps, but the point is you were there, and it was a very brave thing you did. Professor Darkhardt must have been proud of you."

"Yes, I think he was," Remus agreed quietly.

"You miss him, don't you?"

Remus nodded tightly. Aurora gave a sad little smile and touched his arm sympathetically.

"I always thought it was strange, the way he took to you. Almost as though he looked at you as a surrogate son or something."

Remus's brow creased at her words.

"What is it?" Aurora asked.

"What you just said ... I wonder ..."

He looked thoughtful.

"What?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "I was just thinking of someone he told me about not all that long ago, and I wondered ... Still, it doesn't matter now."

Aurora watched him closely, and without meaning to found herself looking into Remus's memory of Professor Darkhardt, sitting behind his desk and telling the tale of the teenage werewolf who had given him his scar.

"Oh. I see," she said slowly.

They fell silent, and walked that way until they reached the corridor leading up to the portrait of the Fat Lady and Aurora realised she had come much too far the wrong way.

"Well," she said. "You'll be wanting to get to bed, I expect."

"Hm."

"Will I see you on the train tomorrow?"

Remus shook his head. "We're all taking the Knight Bus to my place."

"Oh," Aurora said, sounding a touch disappointed. "In that case ..."

"I'll see you at our first meeting with the Order."

"Yes ... Yes, of course."

They stood awkwardly for a moment, then Remus held out his hand. Aurora shook it with a smile.

"Goodbye," Remus said, and he walked away to the portrait, said the password and disappeared through the hole in the wall.

James sat back in his seat on the top level of the triple-decker Knight Bus and looked out of the window, watching Hogwarts disappear rapidly from view.

"Anyone else feel strange about not seeing the old place again?" Sirius asked into the silence.

Everyone nodded.

"Mind you," Sirius went on, "Moony'll probably be back here teaching soon, won't you?"

Remus smiled.

"I doubt it. First of all I have rather a lot of studying to do, and I really need to get some practical experience before I can think of teaching. I dare say Dumbledore might let me use the library once in a while. But I don't think I'll ever be able to come and teach here. Having a student who's absent from lessons once a month is one thing, but for a teacher ..."

"So what are you going to do, then?" Peter asked. "Private tutoring?"

"I expect that's what it'll boil down to. First, though, I'm going to take a part-time job to pay for all the books and things. Dad says he's spoken to a friend of his at the Ministry who's willing to take me on as a kind of secretary. When do you start in the family apothecary?"

Peter turned slightly red.

"I don't."

"What? But I thought you said ..."

"Yes, but I - I told Pippa I'm not really all that good at Potions and Herbology and stuff, and she spoke to my parents for me. So I'll be starting at the Apparition Test Centre instead in about three weeks."

"But you haven't even learnt to apparate yourself!" Sirius exclaimed.

"No, but I'm planning to take the test this summer. Did you know the Ministry are planning to lower the age limit to seventeen, by the way?"

"No," Sirius replied, sounding as though he didn't much care, either. "I'm taking my apparition test as soon as possible too. And of course, Frank, Damian, James and I will be starting our Auror training before long."

"Hm?"

James looked up when he heard his name, apparently waking from a kind of day dream.

"Auror training, Prongs! Can't you stop thinking about Lily for a moment?"

"Not very well," James confessed, going as red as Peter.

Sirius tutted.

"Oh boy, how are you going to get through the next few years without seeing her every day in classes? I suppose you haven't been able to persuade her to become an Auror after all so you can spend more time together?"

"No. She's going to learn more about protection charms. There should be quite a market for those at the rate things are going. I think Professor Flitwick's introduced her to someone in the Department of Mysteries who knows all about hiding valuable things - and people - from prying eyes."

"Oh well, we're bound to be seeing a lot of her then, if she's working at the Ministry too."

"Yes. Seems like the only one out of our little group who won't be at the Ministry is Aurora then, doesn't it?" Peter pointed out casually.

Sirius fell silent, but Remus nodded his agreement.

"She's taking a short break, and then she'll be starting at St. Mungo's. She'd have made a great Auror, of course, but she didn't want to."

The Knight Bus braked suddenly, and James was almost thrown forward out of his seat. They looked out the window, and discovered to their surprise that they were already in the forest where Remus lived. They picked up their trunks and all the rest of their luggage, thanked the driver and climbed out. No sooner had their feet all touched the pavement than the Knight Bus took off with a roar and was gone. They lugged their trunks along the overgrown path towards the house. The door opened before they got there and Remus's parents came towards them, followed by James's mother.

Remus hugged his mother warmly, pleased to see that she was looking better than she had when he had last seen her at King's Cross, nearly a year ago now. But when he looked at his father he was startled. John Lupin's blue eyes no longer sparkled as they had used to do, and his face was lined with care. Remus also noticed that his father had begun going grey and, though it suited him quite well, it bore witness to the heavy weight of worry that rested on his shoulders these days. He smiled at the boys, however, and helped them carry their trunks indoors.

Faith had, as usual, prepared a vast supply of juicy sandwiches and several pitchers full of pumpkin juice. She was obviously making an effort to appear unconcerned, but after they had eaten their fill and moved to the living room, she sat down on the sofa next to Remus and began asking the boys for more information about what really had happened in Hogsmeade.

Remus gave her the much-summarised version of the story, reducing his own part in the proceedings to the minimum of what he had to tell her for the tale to make sense, but he was interrupted frequently by his friends, who seemed to feel that the adults should know the whole story in all its details.

"So you actually managed to fight off the Dementors?" Bridget asked Remus when they had finished.

"I wouldn't exactly call it that. My Patronus was just a puff of smoke. It was only enough to throw one of them back at a time, and not for long."

"Nevertheless, that's quite an achievement. I don't think I could have done it."

They were interrupted at that moment by a loud knock on the door. Faith started and stopped smoothing the sleeve of Remus's robes as she had been doing for the past ten minutes, but John rose at once.

"Don't worry, love, it'll only be Malcolm. He told me he might be coming round today."

"Oh, good. At least each of you two always seems to know what the other one is doing, even if I don't," Faith murmured while her husband went to answer the door.

Sure enough, they soon heard Malcolm's voice in the hall, and a few moments later he came into the room, looking tired but smiling. He shook hands with all the boys and gratefully accepted a plateful of leftover sandwiches and a bottle of butterbeer.

"I suppose it's no use asking you where you've been," Faith remarked a little testily.

"I've been busy in London, actually," he said. "A ... friend of mine runs this little theatre. It's not much - nothing like the big shows - but it's quite a cosy little place, and they actually put on some decent plays. In fact, I got us all some tickets for Saturday night," he added, whisking them out of his pocket.

This news was greeted by a good deal of surprised but pleased noise, and Faith brightened up a little, for once ceasing to eye her brother with troubled suspicion and accepting his story at its face value.

Initiations

Severus Snape sat back in the small rowing boat as it skimmed the black waves that separated Slytherin's Rock from the mainland. Opposite him in the boat sat a man who called himself Rosier, though Severus had still not seen his face, which was covered in a black mask with slits allowing him to see and speak. The oars were paddling away by themselves, and Slytherin's Rock loomed ominously closer, silhouetted black against the still-light, summery evening.

They reached the shore and Severus climbed out of the boat. A man with pale sweeping hair and a pointed face glided down the front steps, his black cloak billowing out behind him.

"Severus, it's good to see you here at last," said Lucius Malfoy. "The Dark Lord is expecting you most eagerly."

Severus shook his hand without a word and followed him up the stairs. After the warmth outdoors, he shivered slightly when they entered the hallway of the black stone fortress. Eerie, slightly squeaky screams were echoing from a passage off to their left. Lucius Malfoy's cold grey eyes followed Severus's.

"House elves," he said briskly. "Our master needs them for a potion. Take no notice of their screaming."

Severus nodded and followed on, up the stairs, along a corridor, past shelves stacked with severed hands, shrunken heads and peculiar boxes. Lucius stopped outside a heavy door and knocked. There was a quiet movement beyond, then a strangely sing-song voice told them to enter. Lucius pushed the door open slowly and entered. Severus kept a few paces behind him. Both of them bowed as Voldemort turned towards them.

"Master, Severus Snape is here," Malfoy announced.

"Yes yes, so I see," said Voldemort impatiently. "Go, leave us - and tell Paula there will be one more for dinner."

"Yes, my lord."

Lucius Malfoy bowed again and withdrew, leaving Severus alone with Voldemort, who began to study him appraisingly.

"So," he said at long last. "I hear you have finally finished school."

"Yes, master."

"That, in a way, is a pity. Your inside information has been invaluable to me these past years. Nevertheless, I feel sure you will be of even greater service to me in future."

"I hope that I may fulfil all your expectations, master."

"Of course you do. Our numbers are increasing, Severus. More and more wizards and witches are eagerly joining us, and others are finding it impossible to resist the - persuasiveness of my supporters. The ranks of the Death Eaters are increasing almost daily, and each of them strives to satisfy me by developing a particular skill that will make them invaluable to me. Macnair is an expert at dealing with magical creatures of the Darkest kind, as well as being a passionate killer. The Lestranges' great quality is their loyalty. Mulciber excels at performing the Imperius curse ... your contribution so far has been the information you have supplied. However, I already have a new source inside Hogwarts taking care of that. The question that remains, then, is what you can do for me now that you are no longer a student."

Severus made sure to take deep, even breaths as he replied, keeping his voice at once steadily confident and humble.

"Master, I believe I do have a skill that will serve you well. You seek immortality, my lord, which is no less than you deserve. But the potions that will allow you to achieve your goal are complicated, their ingredients often hard to obtain, and the slightest error could lead to disaster."

"Are you suggesting I would perpetrate an error?"

"Never, master," Severus said with a slight bow. "But it can never hurt to have a second pair of eyes supervising the concoction of such a delicate brew. And I humbly suggest you would find it hard to find someone who has achieved as high marks in Potions as I have."

"Very good."

Voldemort tilted his head to one side. His voice held approval, but he eyed Severus with a look of mild doubt, as though he was not entirely sure that he could be trusted.

"You will not let me down, I trust?"

"Never, master," Severus affirmed. "There is nothing our enemies can do that would ever make me turn from you, my lord."

Voldemort seemed satisfied.

James could hardly believe his eyes when his mother and Remus's father led him and his friends up to the great gates of Gryffindor Hall. Bridget could not conceal a gleam of pride when the gates swung back and they began the long walk down the gravel drive. Sirius looked around him and whistled.

"This is some place," he declared, awestruck. "Did you really grow up here, Bridget?"

"Yes. But before you get too envious, you might like to know I hated it. Oh, it was all right while my mother was still alive, but she died when I was only in my third year at Hogwarts."

"What was she like?" James asked with real interest as they came to a halt before the huge front door.

Bridget's face took on a dreamy look.

"She was sweet. Generous and lively. But you should ask your grandfather about her, I'm sure he'll be able to describe her much better than I could."

"Was he very fond of her?"

"Yes, he was." Bridget went on thoughtfully, "I think perhaps that was part of the reason he and I became so estranged. We both loved her, but instead of sharing our grief, each of us withdrew into a kind of shell. I dare say part of it, with Father, was the shock. She was ever such a lot younger than him, you see, so for her to die before he did ..."

Bridget broke off and tugged at the bell. Almost at once, the wooden doors swung back to let them enter, and a moment later they stood in the dimly lit entrance hall, staring up at the gallery. A group of people were waiting up there, and John led the way towards them. The boys at once recognised Alastor Moody, who stood talking to a ginger-haired wizard who eyed them keenly.

Frank was already there, standing with a very small wizard in a violently mauve top hat who turned out to be Damian Diggle's uncle. Professor McGonagall joined them presently, accompanied by Hagrid, and after greeting them with her usual stern air became engrossed with John in a discussion on the policies of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with regard to Animagus registration.

Philippa Pettigrew and Aurora turned up soon after. The latter seemed genuinely pleased to see them all - though there was something stiff in the way she and Sirius shook hands while she was hugging everyone else enthusiastically - and was soon questioning Remus and Frank on what they'd been doing with themselves since the start of the holidays three weeks ago. Bridget drew James aside.

"Come along," she whispered. "This way. I think it's time you met someone."

She led him to a heavy oak door, knocked and entered. The tall wizard James had seen at the Lupins' rose from a seat by the empty fireplace.

"Father," Bridget began proudly, closing the door behind them, "this is James. James, this is your grandfather, Gordon Gryffindor."

Gordon Gryffindor peered at James through the yellowish candlelight.

"Well, come closer, boy, so I can take a look at you," he said gruffly.

James did as he was told, feeling more awkward than he could ever remember having felt in his life. The iron-grey eyes of his grandfather seemed to bore into him as though they were trying to see through his eyes and into his soul. Finally the old man held out a rough, wrinkled hand and James shook it.

"Welcome to the family home," said Gordon stiffly.

"Thank you, sir," James replied politely.

His grandfather gave a kind of grunt, nodded at Bridget and strode past them both into the hall. James was puzzled by his strange demeanour, but Bridget laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"It's all right," she said quietly. "He likes you, I'm sure. But it will take him a while to show it."

Dumbledore was waiting for them in the small, narrow room where the Order of the Phoenix habitually met, Fawkes the phoenix perched on the arm of his chair. They were surprised when Oliver McKinnon and Gideon Prewett walked in, who had both been two years above them at Hogwarts. Everyone took seats around the table, but many spaces remained empty. Last to arrive, as usual, was Malcolm, who smiled at all those present and sat down between John and James.

"Have I missed anything?" he whispered.

John shook his head. "I think we're just about to get started."

Sure enough, Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair and raised his hands for silence. A series of faces turned towards him expectantly.

"My dear friends," he began. "I am filled today with very mixed emotions as, I am sure, are many of you. Firstly, I am pleased to welcome our new young members to the Order: Sirius Black, Aurora Borealis, Frank Longbottom, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter. I fear Miss Lily Evans was not able to join us today, for I believe she is on holiday ..."

"She's in Spain," said James and Aurora together.

Dumbledore smiled.

"Yes. Well, I have no doubt you will fill her in when she gets back. Secondly, of course, I would like us all to take a moment to remember one of our Order whom we have lost. Narbus Darkhardt, a brave and loyal man and a good friend."

The people seated around the table lowered their heads, and John glanced anxiously sideways at his son. Remus pretended not to notice. After a brief silence, Dumbledore went on to emphasise the importance of the occasion on which they had come together: the first time that all the surviving heirs of Gryffindor were assembled under one roof, reunited against the darkness. James, seated between Sirius and Malcolm, returned his mother's smile, then stole a hidden glance at his grandfather, that tall, cold, impressive presence. Gordon, however, seemed not to notice.

Dumbledore went on, taking care to point out that they had many supporters - though several members of the Order had been unable to appear tonight - and that they had made great achievements to date, but he also did not conceal from the newcomers the fact that Voldemort was growing ever stronger, the numbers of his supporters increasing daily.

"So what are we doing about it?" Sirius demanded impatiently, unable to listen to any more talk that seemed to be getting them nowhere.

Bridget placed a calming hand on his arm and murmured to him to wait, but Dumbledore merely smiled again.

"A very good question, Sirius," he said. "What are we doing about it? Well, for one thing, we are keeping as close a watch as we can on the people we know are on Voldemort's side. Sadly, with their numbers increasing so much more rapidly than ours, that is not an easy task. We have also tried to find some of the people who have gone missing, and to find and begin the hard and often impossible process of attempting to cure some of those whose names are on this list," - he took out a roll of parchment - "which I have compiled and which holds the names of witches and wizards I suspect have fallen victim to the Imperius curse. This curse has caused us much trouble, and I believe it will continue to do so for a long time into the future. It is, as you all know, most hard to block, unless one possesses particular strength of character and thought."

He gazed significantly at Aurora, who stared fixedly down at her folded hands on the table before her.

"Other than that," Dumbledore went on, "we are also trying to be quicker than the Death Eaters, to find out where they are going to strike and be there before them, ready to prevent the worst from happening. This is a difficult task, but Malcolm here is making great progress building up a kind of spy network."

Malcolm nodded.

"Yes. It's surprising, the amount of people in and around London who suddenly remember that they have heard something that might be useful if you offer them a bag of galleons. Lots of the reports we're getting are nonsense, of course. Some people are just after the gold or a bit of sensationalism and excitement, they like to feel important. But I've got quite a few contacts in the Ministry and working for the Daily Prophet, and they're very experienced at separating the truth from the lies and fancies. Of course, it would be ideal if we could find someone in Voldemort's inner circle willing to spy for us, or get someone on our side to somehow find a way into the ranks of the Death Eaters. I'm working on that, but it's not going to be easy ..."

"And while we're looking for a spy on his side, he's bound to be looking for one on ours, isn't he?" Pippa pointed out, looking at Malcolm. He nodded his agreement.

"There are always many spies and counter-spies in any war," Professor McGonagall put in, her voice quiet and filled with apparent sadness. She looked first at Pippa, then at Malcolm. "It's one of the most important, and the most dangerous pursuits in wartime. It was back in the Muggle Second World War, and it will be again in this one, except that, this time, the danger will be even greater. There are limits to what a Muggle dictator can do. In the case of ... You-Know-Who ... we have no way of knowing where the limits to his powers lie."

She fell silent, and for a while no one spoke. At last, Dumbledore spoke again, and they continued discussing the possible ways in which someone could infiltrate Voldemort's Death Eaters for a long time, compared notes on the extent to which the Dark Lord had expanded his influence so far, then went on to confer about the dangers of his newly formed alliances with Dark creatures and the behaviour of the five Dementors who had appeared in Hogsmeade. At the end of two hours, Dumbledore sent them all home, agreeing that another meeting would be summoned very soon.

James hovered by the door as everyone else filed out, hoping to catch his grandfather's eye, to speak to him, get to know him a little better - but the old man remained seated, obviously intending to speak to Dumbledore when the others had left. Bridget took James's arm.

"Come along," she said. "You'll have lots of opportunities to talk to him yet."

Remus couldn't sleep that night. He tossed and turned for hours, and at last he got up, tiptoed past the mattresses of his sleeping friends on the floor and down the stairs, taking care to avoid the creaking step. He made his way quietly to the kitchen, but when he got there he discovered there was already a flickering light shining through beneath the door. Pushing the door open, Remus stepped into the room. His father looked up, startled. There was a glass of firewhisky on the table beside him and tell-tale red blotches on his cheeks gave away the fact that he had been resting his face in his hands.

"Remus!" he exclaimed.

"Hello," said Remus, sitting down across the table from John.

"Can't you sleep?"

"No. Can't you?"

John shook his head. There was a pause, then he asked,

"Have some butterbeer?"

Remus nodded. His father waved his wand and a bottle flew across to land on the table. Remus took a large gulp. John watched him closely all the time.

"Why can't you sleep?" he asked.

Remus shrugged. "I don't know. There are too many things going through my head, I suppose. Things that happened last year. So much changed during our last term at Hogwarts, things that I didn't think ever would change. And then there was Professor Darkhardt ..."

"You liked him, didn't you?"

"Yes. I know a lot of people thought he was gruff and cold. Some were even a bit frightened of him," he added quietly, thinking for a brief, painful moment of Heather. "But he could be kind and generous. He always was to me."

John fingered his half empty glass for a moment.

"You - knew what he was, I suppose? Or rather, what he used to be?"

Remus nodded. "He told me. But it didn't change anything. He really regretted what he'd done, Dad, and he was a good man, really. That he had to die was unfair and - horrible. But then death always is, I think."

John shook his head thoughtfully.

"No, Remus. Death isn't always unfair or horrible. In some cases, death can be a release. A release from pain, from guilt, from worries, from regrets ... from fear. What you find so horrible isn't death, it's the feeling you get when you lose someone you care about. It's grief that's horrible, Remus, not death itself. I know, I've been there. When I lost my father, I found out what grief is. His death was neither horrible, nor unfair. He was ill, suffering. The healers can cure many things, but some diseases are too much to handle, even for them. Death was the best thing that could happen to him, but that didn't make the grief any more bearable for me, even though I'd ..." He broke off awkwardly.

"Even though you'd - what?"

"I prayed, Remus. Prayed for him to die. Please don't look so shocked. If you'd seen him suffer the way I did, day after day ... I thought his death would be a release, for all of us. And yet, when he fell asleep one night, never to wake up again, the grief was - horrible. And ever since he's been gone, I have continued to pray every night. I pray for one thing only, Remus: that I will never again know a grief like that which I felt when I lost my father. That's what keeps me awake at night. The fear that something will happen to the people I love, and that I will be left to grieve again. Can you understand that?"

"I think so. You're afraid that something will happen to Mum ..."

John closed his eyes and nodded slowly. His shoulders were shaking slightly, and Remus was reminded forcibly of that day, nearly half his lifetime ago, when his father had climbed his favourite tree ...

"Dad," he said gently, coming round the table and placing his hand on his father's shoulder. "She'll be all right. We'll make sure she is. We won't let anyone hurt her."

John opened his eyes again and patted his son's hand.

"I don't know what I'd do without her ... or you," he said huskily.

Remus smiled.

"Come along," he said, "I think it's time we both got back to bed, before she wakes up and finds you missing again."

Josie

Severus Snape sleeked back his hair and stepped out of Norman Pettigrew's apothecary into the brilliant sunshine of York, his purchases hidden securely in a paper carrier bag. It amused him greatly that he had just bought further ingredients for his master's potion from the father of one of his arch enemies. With a contented smirk on his face, Severus put one hand in the pocket of his muggle-style trousers and decided to take a walk.

He walked past the Minster, and passed crowds of people out soaking up the sun. Pensioners sitting on benches with their glasses off and their eyes closed, young mothers with prams, children chasing one another up and down the streets with water pistols. He reached the shade of the old city walls and walked along them, so lost in thought that he jumped visibly when a high, girlish voice called,

"Excuse me!"

Severus looked around but saw no one.

"Hello!" the same voice called.

He looked up, taking his hand out of his pocket to shield his eyes against the sunlight, but still he could make out little more than the silhouette of a young girl up on the wall.

"Yes?" he said impatiently, screwing up his eyes.

"Hi," she said. "I was wondering if you'd do me a big favour. Will you take a photo of me with my camera?"

She held it down to him, a large, bulky, old-fashioned looking device. Severus took it reluctantly, but pointed out,

"You won't get much of a picture with that sun behind you."

Though he couldn't see her face, he was sure the girl was grinning.

"Yes I will. Dad did something with it so that it can take pictures like that. Go on, try it, please."

With a sigh, Severus tucked his shopping under his arm and held the camera up to his face. He looked up and was mildly surprised to see the girl had been right. Though the sun was right behind her, as he stepped back the camera showed him every detail of her face and figure, haloed by the bright light. She was very small and skinny with a narrow, pointed face. Her short and wispy hair was strawberry blonde and her eyes looked like they were a little too big for her face. They also had no particular colour, being neither completely blue, brown, green or any other colour that one could pick out.

She wore a loose orange top that looked far too wide for her and a tight tartan mini-skirt that hid little from where Severus was standing. While he got the camera into position, she sprawled against the low wall behind her, flashing a row of very white teeth at him. He took a photo and prepared to hand the camera back, but she ran along the wall, climbed down a couple of steps and then dropped lightly to the ground.

"Thanks," she said, taking the camera from him. She held out a very thin hand.

"I'm Josie, by the way. Josephine Coronis," she added, putting on a posh voice.

"Severus Snape," he replied stiffly, while she shook his hand with vigour.

Josephine sniggered, then covered her mouth with her hand when she realised how impolite she was being.

"That's a rather 'severe' name," she teased. "Or is it 'sever us', as in 'cut us up into little pieces and serve us up for dinner'? Sorry," she giggled, seeing the unamused look on his face, "but it is a bit of a mouthful. Mind if I call you Sev?"

He winced.

"Would Sevvie be better?" she suggested.

"Sev will do - just fine," said Severus, feeling it was about time he were getting on his way, but somehow reluctant to leave this impossibly colourful, vibrant creature.

Josephine, for her part, did not even seem to give the idea of letting him leave a moment's thought. She hung the camera round her neck and seized his arm, wrapping both of hers firmly around it.

"Now," she said, "where do we go?"

"I - don't know. Shouldn't you be at school?"

"It's school holidays, Sev! Tell you what, there's this lovely little ice cream parlour about ten minutes' walk from here. We could go there. I wouldn't say 'no' to a Banana Split, would you?"

Severus thought for a moment. He still had a few sickles in his pocket, but how many pounds did he have? For that matter, how much did ice creams cost in the Muggle world?

"If you're worrying about money," Josephine said quietly, "Don't. They run a Muggle parlour, but they're wizards and take both Muggle and wizard money."

Severus gaped at her for a moment, then he said distractedly, "Nuts."

"What?"

"Not banana," he explained. "But nuts."

"Oh!" Josephine exclaimed happily. "I'm sure they have loads of those. Come along."

The ice cream parlour in question was already packed, but Josephine led the way to a small, round table right at the back. A man with a shiny, bald round head and a midriff bulge that hung low over the far too tight-looking belt that held up his white trousers came bustling over to them presently. He smiled broadly at the girl.

"Ah, Miss Josie. Always a pleasure to see you."

"Hello, Bacchus," she said cheerfully. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you, Miss Josie. Except ..." the man lowered his voice and half-closed his mouth so that he was now speaking conspiratorially through a gap between his lips in the right-hand corner of his mouth.

"My grandson's been messing with his dad's wand again. He looks set to be a great wizard someday, mind you. The things he can do already! Trouble is, it was a bit awkward explaining to the neighbours how their bulldog happened to grow a long bushy tail."

Josephine gave a ringing laugh that caused Severus to look around anxiously at the other guests, but no one was looking their way. At the next table, a young woman with short dark hair was spooning partially melted vanilla ice cream into the rather sticky-looking mouth of the curly-headed child in the high chair beside her.

"Your usual, Miss Josie?" Bacchus enquired, and when she nodded eagerly he added, "and what'll the young gentleman have?"

"Something with nuts," Josephine answered at once, "and what - vanilla?"

"Yes - please," Severus said.

Bacchus bustled away and returned shortly after with their orders. Severus waited until he had gone again and the girl beside him had begun chopping her banana into minute pieces with her spoon so that the whole thing ended up looking more like Banana Mash than Banana Split before he asked,

"How did you know?"

"Know what?" she said thickly through a mouthful of cold and mushy banana. "Oh, you mean about you being ... That was easy. For a start, even dressed like that, you don't look like a Muggle."

The mention of that word again made Severus look around nervously, but all the other guests were much too engrossed in their own conversations to take any notice of what was being said at the table in the corner.

"And then there was the camera," Josephine continued. "Your face showed so little surprise that the camera could take pictures against that amount of light that you had to be used to things acting differently to the way they do in the Muggle world. Satisfied?"

"Not quite. How did the man who just served us know?"

"Bacchus? Easy - I've never brought a Muggle in here yet, only wizards."

"Oh. So I have the honour of being merely one in a long line of stray wizards you have picked up off the street? Thank you, I feel so flattered now."

Josephine laughed again.

"At least you're the first with a sense of humour," she said.

Severus looked surprised.

"You're the first to tell me I have one."

Josephine merely grinned at him, her cheeks bulging like a hamster's as she sucked happily at her banana and ice cream. Severus looked down and concentrated on his own.

"You don't much approve of me, do you?" the girl asked suddenly.

Severus seemed to consider.

"No, not much," he agreed.

She nodded. "I suppose you normally only take very serious girls out. The kind with glasses on their long, straight noses, their - probably black - hair tied back in nice, neat buns, their faces pale and pasty. Girls who talk intelligently about the policies of the Ministry and St. Mungo's latest advancement with regard to finding a cure for the Stiffneck Syndrome. Boring girls."

Severus's face flushed slightly and Josephine's sharp eyes noticed at once.

"Oh," she said, sounding surprised. "You don't mean to tell me you've never gone out with any girl before?! Wow!" she added with a chuckle when he said nothing. "That's pretty impressive, at your age!"

"And what do you mean by that?" he demanded a trifle indignantly. "I'm only eighteen."

"Oh, is that all?" It was her turn to blush. "Sorry, but I thought you looked ... well, quite a bit older. I'm sixteen, by the way."

"You don't act it," Severus found himself saying. "The way you talk makes you seem older, too."

Josephine looked at him sideways. "You think so? Funny, so does my dad. He says I show too much ... what was it ... espi-something, for a girl of my 'tender age'."

"Espièglerie?"

"Yes, that's it. Too much of that - whatever it is. Anyway, he doesn't approve. Wants me to be more serene and not draw so much attention to myself. Well, he is Greek," she finished, as though that explained it all.

"Really? But you sound local."

"Oh, I am. Mum's English, you see. Dad met her on a kind of wizard youth exchange and moved over here to marry her. 'Course, his family weren't any too happy. The youngest descendant of the ancient Greek sorceress Medea taking his precious blood across the Channel to marry some English witch, however noble her ancestry ... He often jokes that Merlin's niece wouldn't have been good enough."

"His family attaches a lot of importance to ancestry, then?" Severus asked almost innocently.

"Coo, what? You never saw such a crazy bunch of amateur genealogists! Blood is thicker than water, as they say - well, they're certainly thick enough!"

Severus frowned.

"Do you really think so little of your ancestry?"

"No," Josephine said honestly. "Actually, I'm rather proud of it. Not many people can claim to be directly related to ancient Greek sorceresses, after all - even dead ones."

She grinned as she put her spoon down on her empty dish.

"Right, now you know more or less all there is to know about me, and I know next to nothing about you, except your name, that you're eighteen, you like vanilla ice cream and nuts and you carry mysterious paper bags around with you."

"Isn't that enough?"

The girl pretended to think hard, screwing up her face most comically.

"Hmmm ... no!" she said decidedly. "Definitely not enough.

In spite of himself, Severus felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Josephine noticed at once and beamed at him.

"There, you see, we'll get rid of that severe image of yours yet. So, where do we go when we've paid? Shall we take a walk along the wall or would you prefer a little sight-seeing? Have you been inside the Minster yet?"

Severus shook his head and signalled to the proprietor that he wanted to pay.

"No," he said while Bacchus went to fetch the bill. "I don't have the time. This paper bag holds some items I had to purchase for my - employer. He's waiting for them."

"Oh, I see."

The girl's face fell, and she said nothing until Severus had paid and they were both standing back outside in the sunlight.

"Well, goodbye then," said Josephine, holding out her hand.

Severus shook it.

"Goodbye," he said, and he turned to go.

But as he walked away from the ice cream parlour he thought he could still feel her eyes on him, and sure enough, when his footsteps slowed and he looked back, she was still standing there. She waved, he waved back, and walked on, this time feeling that she was no longer watching, and somehow that made every step harder to take. He slowed again and, silently cursing himself for doing what he felt he ought not, he turned right around and strode briskly back towards and past the ice cream parlour, following the slender figure that was now winding its way through the crowds, away from him. She walked more quickly and so did he, until at last he was practically jogging along.

"Josephine!" he called out at last. "Josephine, wait!"

She stopped, her back still towards him, and waited for him to catch up. When he did, still she did not turn.

"I - err - I just wondered," he said slightly breathlessly. "I should be free this evening, if you are. Maybe we could meet back at the wall where we did earlier and - go out for dinner?"

There was a short pause, then Josephine turned around and grinned up at him mischievously.

"Took you long enough, didn't it?" she teased. "Okay, see you at six-thirty. Don't be late, Sev."

With that she hurriedly pinched his long nose and skipped off along the road, singing merrily to herself.

Lily and Petunia

On the very afternoon when he had passed his apparition test, James materialised on the doorstep of a small, suburban semi-detached house and looked around him. Luckily, the oppressing heat seemed to be keeping the inhabitants of this sunwashed street in the coolness of their houses or lounging in the shade of the apple trees and sun shades in their back gardens. Only a small black cat sunning itself on the roof of a parked car raised its head a fraction and peered at him through slitted eyes before deciding further movement would be a waste of energy, and utterly pointless.

It laid its head back on the red polish and stretched its legs. James ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick out even more wildly than usual, walked up to the front porch of number ten and rang the bell. A long silence followed, but then he heard the sound of someone approaching, and a moment later Mr. Evans opened the door wide, blinking against the sunlight.

"James!" he exclaimed, genuinely pleased.

"Hello," said James. "Sorry to intrude like this, but ..."

"Come on in," Lily's father said, standing back to let him pass. "Go on through to the garden. My wife's just brought the seed cake out - ah!"

Mrs. Evans looked up as her husband marched James through the hall and out the back door, announcing, "Look who's come for tea, Rose."

"James, how splendid!" cried Lily's mother.

"Mrs. Evans, I don't mean to intrude ..."

"Nonsense, dear. We were just about to have some tea and cake. Lily will be in soon. She's been out swimming with some of her old friends from primary school. Sit down - there," she said, guiding him to a seat. "What will you have? Tea? Coffee? Lemonade?"

James, suddenly finding himself seated in a basket chair without any clear notion of how she had propelled him there so quickly, said breathlessly, "Lemonade would be fine, Mrs. Evans."

"Rose. And my husband is Ted. Have a piece of cake?" she added, passing him a plate.

"Thank you," said James, taking it hurriedly.

A few minutes later, the back door opened again. It was not Lily however, but her bony sister who stood in the doorway.

"Mother," she said in clear, succinct tones, "I was about to call Vernon. Is it all right if he co- What's he doing here?" she demanded with distaste, glaring at James.

"James is having tea with us," said her mother.

"Hello, Petunia," said James, half-rising to shake her hand with a smile. Petunia waited until he had sat down again before she spluttered,

"B-but ... I was going to ask Vernon to come round ..."

"No reason why you can't," her father said, helping himself to a large piece of seed cake and sitting down.

"No reason?!" Petunia cried. "You expect me to invite my fiancee round with - with him here?" She jerked her head at James.

"Petunia!" both her parents exclaimed. James interrupted hastily, deciding to ignore her rudeness to him.

"You're engaged, Petunia? Congratulations."

"Thanks," she replied grudgingly. "Of course, if Vernon finds you sitting here, he may well change his mind."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Petunia!" her mother cried. "The least you can do is be civil to Lily's boyfriend."

James felt the blood rush to his face at being referred to in that manner.

"After all, Lily has always behaved like a saint towards Vernon," Mrs. Evans went on.

Petunia gave a mirthless laugh that sounded more like a cough.

They heard a noise in the hallway and presently Lily appeared through the back door. She was wearing a short blue skirt and a white blouse and her thick red hair hung wet about her face, a few stray strands curtaining her green eyes.

"Mum," she said, "have you seen my - oh." She blushed as she spotted James. "Hello."

James wanted to leap to his feet and grab her hand, but he was highly conscious of her family all around him, and all he managed was a meek "Hi". Petunia stared first at her sister, then at James. It was Lily's mother who broke the silence.

"What was it you wanted, Lily dear?" she asked.

"What? Oh, I was ... it was ... erm, I can't remember," Lily stammered.

"Well, why don't you nip upstairs and dry your hair, maybe it will come to you."

Lily nodded and left them again. James noticed that her parents, who had both stopped talking and were shooting silent glares at their elder daughter, seemed now to be eating their cake rather quickly, and Lily's father drank his tea while it was still so hot that the vapour wetted his cheeks and James was sure he must have burnt his tongue. Petunia stood sulkily by the door, making no sound. Feeling highly uncomfortable, James half-heartedly took a bite of his cake. It was delicious, and he told Mrs. Evans so. She smiled graciously and said "Thank you."

The silence continued while they ate their cakes, and by the time Lily returned with her red hair sleek and shining, her lips slightly pinker and her eyelashes darker than before and glittering silver earrings dangling from her lobes, her parents had almost finished clearing the table, so that the only things remaining were James's glass and seed cake. Lily's mother thrust a plate with a piece of cake into Petunia's hands.

"Come along, Petunia," she said, "you can eat that indoors."

"But I wasn't going indoors," said Petunia testily.

"Yes you are, there's something I want you to help me with. Come along."

Lily's mother winked at her husband, smiled first at Lily, then at James and propelled Petunia back into the house, muttering angrily to her under her breath. Ted Evans rose from his seat.

"Yes, well, must be getting on. Jobs won't do themselves, you know," he murmured.

He patted Lily on the shoulder and followed his wife and elder daughter. There was an awkward silence while both Lily and James tried to think of something to say. In the end, they both spoke at once.

"Did you have a nice holiday?" asked James, while Lily said,

"I'm so glad you came round."

They both stopped talking. Lily smiled sheepishly and James grinned.

"So am I," he said. "Your sister doesn't seem too pleased though."

"Oh, well, Pet doesn't like wizards. I hope she wasn't too rude."

"No, she was all right," James lied. "So, how was your holiday?"

"Nice," Lily said. "But - well, I couldn't really enjoy it. I kept thinking, you know."

"Oh? What about?"

Lily smiled. "Well, actually, you entered into my thoughts from time to time. And Professor Darkhardt. How he died to give us all time to escape. I can't forget that. It was so brave of him, don't you think?"

"He was a brave man," James agreed. "He'll be sorely missed by a lot of people, though Remus will miss him most, I expect."

"Yes." Lily shuddered. "When I think of him facing those Dementors, and you going back to help ... What are the Dementors up to, James? Have they joined You-Know-Who?"

"Dumbledore doesn't seem to think so yet, at least not all of them. Most of the Dementors still seem to be guarding Azkaban prison."

"That must be a terrible place."

"I dare say it is, but it's the only place Voldemort's supporters can be kept safely locked away - at least, as long as the Dementors don't join the fight on the wrong side."

"And if they do join him?"

"Then 'God help us all', as Remus's dad put it."

"So what happens now? What did you decide at the meeting?"

"First of all, that we would all take a little time to settle into our new jobs before taking an active part. Remus's uncle's got a pretty good spy network set up, it seems, and Peter's sister Pippa has established some contacts abroad."

"Abroad? Has You-Know-Who expanded his influence that far?"

"It looks like he might. What with all the spying and such, McGonagall said it's like being back in the Second World War, only far more dangerous, because the things Voldemort can do are so much more terrible than what a Muggle dictator is capable of. She seemed pretty upset."

Lily looked worried. "She's right, of course. There are bound to be more sacrifices, I suppose."

She looked at James, and he saw that her eyes were filled with tears. He got to his feet.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently.

"I don't know. I suppose I'm just frightened. Y-you're always so brave, James, but so was Professor Darkhardt, and now he's dead. I'm afraid that someday you might face similar odds, and make the same decision he did and get yourself killed."

James smiled softly. "Would you be so upset about that?"

"Just thinking about it gives me nightmares."

"Funny. And the only way I can keep myself from having nightmares these days is by thinking of you before I shut my eyes."

"Really?"

James nodded and came closer. Lily gazed up at him expectantly and excitedly. Slowly he bent his head towards her, and she closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. Neither of them heard the back door close, as indeed neither had been aware of it opening several minutes before.

Petunia looked around the empty kitchen, feeling bemused and - she had to admit it - afraid. She had overheard talk of something called Dementors. Though she had no idea what a Dementor looked like, they were obviously dangerous, or Lily and James would not have sounded so worried. And then there was this other person they had spoken of, Voldemort. A wizard dictator of some sort, it seemed, who could cause more devastation than World War II. Petunia shuddered.

The thought of any wizard ruling the country was bad enough, but an evil wizard at that ... For a wild moment she considered running away, leaving the country. But James had said that evil was reaching abroad too. James ... Petunia pushed the curtain aside a fraction so she could look out of the window.

The pair had sat down. She could see the back of James's disgracefully untidy black head above the backrest of the basket couch. Lily's long red mane was trailing down over the back of the seat, her head evidently resting on his shoulder. Petunia remembered how her sister had introduced her to James that day on the platform. He had come up smiling, joking, determined to be at his most charming. And the worst of it was, it had worked, to an extent. Petunia remembered exactly how he had looked that day, how his hazel eyes had sparkled ... she shook herself.

He was a wizard, a scruffy, arrogant freak with a wand in his pocket. Petunia hated wizards. She hated the weird way in which they dressed, hated the way her parents fawned on Lily just because she could wave a silly little stick around and make things move without touching them, she hated the cauldrons, the spellbooks, the magical sweets and the crazy, freak friends Lily brought home from school.

She looked out the window again at the back of Lily's head, wishing with all her heart that her sister were not there, that she would go away and never return, or better still, that she had never been born in the first place.