Be All My Secrets Remembered

Chapter Nineteen: Something Wicked This Way Comes

September 1977

The Evans family had left Windsor at what Petunia complained was an indecently early hour, but her parents managed to placate her with the promise of an early lunch at Harrods. Unfortunately, a particularly nasty accident on the M4 rendered that plan entirely impossible.

"Can't we at least go for tea on the way home?" Petunia asked, as Mr Evans pulled to a stop in front of King's Cross Station. "I'm absolutely starving."

"And what about your sister?" Mrs Evans glanced back at both her daughters, lips pursed in disapproval. "Would you have poor Lily starve instead?"

"Don't worry about me, Mum. They serve food on the train after all," Lily said, shooting Petunia a grin. "So long as someone eats a petit four for me, I don't mind."

"I'll eat two," her sister informed her with a returned smile. "Besides, you've got a boy to buy you all those ridiculous sweets you brought home last year."

"I don't have anyone," Lily protested, blushing.

"Oh, don't you?" her mother put in. "When do we get to meet this young man of yours, Lily? Petunia claims he's not the same one we met in Paris."

"Traitor," muttered Lily. "You weren't supposed to tell."

"What was I supposed to do?" Petunia shrugged. "You're the one who told Mum when I went to that concert with Brian from down the street."

"That was four years ago!"

"Girls, stop arguing!" Mrs Evans rapped on Petunia's window, gesturing for them to get out. "Contrary to popular belief, parents are not servants."

Both Lily and Petunia rolled their eyes, but stepped out of the car. Lily snatched up her school bag and threw her cloak over her shoulders as her father struggled with the heavy trunk. "Lord, Lily, what on earth do you have in here?"

"It's no heavier than usual--" Lily began, when the trunk suddenly rose several inches off the ground, hovering obligingly.

Her father jumped back, startled. "What on...?"

"Need help, Lil?" Even before she turned, the telltale flip-flop in her stomach informed her of precisely who was standing behind her.

"Aren't you breaking some terribly important statute by doing that, James Potter?" she finally asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest in an appropriately Head Girl-ish fashion. "And you, Head Boy. What sort of example are you going to set for all the impressionable first-years?"

"That one always helps out ladies, of course," was the reply, accompanied by an insouciant grin. "And what sort of example are you setting, Lily Evans, that you don't introduce people?"

Lily glared at him before turning back to her family. "Mum, Dad, Petunia, this is James Potter. He's Head Boy this year."

"Well, I certainly recognise that voice," Mrs Evans remarked, her smile bearing a remarkable resemblance to her daughter's. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to favour us with another song, Mr Potter?"

James blushed, and Lily found herself wishing she had a camera to capture the completely uncharacteristic event. "Only when I've got darkness and plausible deniability, I'm afraid, Mrs Evans."

"Hardly a need for that, dear boy. You're not at all bad," she replied. "Lily's been keeping us away from you. She seems to think we're going to embarrass her."

"Only because you are," muttered Lily before raising her voice to address both her parents. "We really should get inside, you know. Is Sirius here as well?"

"Yeah, we've been here awhile. Loaded our things onto the train already. He went off to buy a newspaper or something. Shall I take care of this for you?" He gestured to the trunk.

"Oh, you don't have to," Lily answered quickly.

"I know I don't have to," he retorted. "I'll take that as a yes." And before she could argue, he lowered the trunk back onto the ground, grabbed the side handle, and dragged it toward the entrance, leaving Lily gaping at the place where he had been standing.

A muffled snort drew her attention back to her parents. Her mother was whispering something to her father, who appeared to be doing his very best not to laugh out loud. Petunia looked vaguely disturbed, but Lily expected little else. However nice Petunia had been when it was just them and their parents, any civility seemed doomed to vanish whenever any tangible reminder of the wizarding world made an appearance.

She readjusted her bag over her shoulder. "Well, let's go, then."

They made their way into the station to the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Lily was the last to go, making sure her parents and Petunia made it through first. By the time she emerged onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, her parents and Petunia had been dragged into conversation with Mr and Mrs Campbell. Kate was nowhere to be seen, and Lily exhaled, having only just realised that she was holding her breath.

Lil, honestly. You ought to tell her and be done with it. Besides, what's there to tell? Well, Kate knew she and James had gone on a date. Alright, two dates. But, Kate had gone out with Laurence Underwood, one of the few Slytherins Lily could stand, the very same night that James and Lily had had their first date. Since then, she hadn't heard anything. But even so, Lily simply couldn't bring herself to confess that quite a bit more was happening between her and James, no matter how much she tried to keep it under wraps.

"Lil, they've caught one!" Sirius shoved a copy of the Daily Prophet under Lily's nose. "A Death Eater!"

"Shush, Sirius," she hissed, glancing round the platform. "Keep your voice down. What's this all about? What's a Death Eater?"

"Death Eaters are the followers of Vol---You-Know-Who," he amended, his eyes darting about to make sure nobody had heard. "Name's Atkinson, and high up in the Ministry too. International Cooperation or somesuch. Apparently he was in contact with the Giants, when they attacked..."

"But that's awful!" Lily murmured, scanning the article. The man looking out from the photograph looked so...normal. "Why would he do that?"

"Who knows? Blood purity and all that." At the phrase, her eyes immediately snapped to his face, but as usual, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. "It'll be Azkaban for him, mark my words."

"Azkaban," she echoed, shuddering. "It sounds like an awful place."

"Well, it could hardly be a resort now, could it?" James's voice interjected from nearby. Lily glanced up from the paper almost directly into his eyes. "Prisons aren't meant to be nice."

"But this seems awful even by that standard," protested Lily, unable to keep from smiling--like a silly schoolgirl--at the sight of him. "I mean...I don't know what a Dementor's Kiss is, but the name hardly sounds pleasant."

"Dementor's Kiss?" James snatched the paper from her and skimmed the article. "Merlin's Beard! Crouch really is frightened, isn't he?"

"As well he should be, Prongs," Sirius said softly. "These aren't your run-of-the-mill hooligans. Look at Atkinson. They were talking about putting him forward for Minister for Magic when Martindale leaves, not that anyone will admit to it now. And I'll bet you anything Malfoy's involved. That family's obsessed with blood purity."

"Like yours?" James challenged.

Sirius stiffened slightly. "Oh, I know mine's involved. There's no question of that. Dumbledore told me about Bellatrix last year. 'Cissa...I like to think better of her, but she's married to Malfoy, so I really don't know. But my family's always been good at covering its tracks. We never support things openly, we Blacks. We're too sneaky for that."

James belatedly handed the paper back to Lily with a rather sheepish smile. "Sorry, Lil. Didn't mean to steal that from you...it just surprised me."

"What's a Dementor's Kiss, James?" she asked. The name Bellatrix had brought to mind far too many images, none of them comforting.

He and Sirius promptly exchanged looks before James turned back to Lily. "The Dementors are the guards of Azkaban. They're...I really don't know what to call them..."

"Dark Creatures," Sirius interjected forbiddingly. "Dark as they come. Bella used to tell us stories about them when we were little. Scared the sense out of Reg and me, even 'Cissa. The worst part is that she wasn't making it up. She'd overheard my father talking to Wormtail's father, back when they captured...oh, I don't remember his name, whoever it was tried to bring Grindelwald back from the dead. Completely barking mad, even before the Dementors got to him--"

"Padfoot," James murmured in warning, noting the widening of Lily's eyes. "They're not pleasant, Lil, but I can't imagine you'll ever have to see one. The Ministry keeps them to Azkaban, with good reason. Dumbledore would have heads if Dementors came within sight of Hogwarts. Don't worry."

"But...they're on our side, right? If they're guards..."

Again, Sirius and James looked at one another, patently uncomfortable. "They're on our side, yeah," James finally said. He didn't sound altogether convinced. "I've never seen one. Don't want to, quite frankly."

"Moony has," said Sirius. Both James and Lily snapped to attention, regarding him in shock. "He told me about it once. His parents had taken him to the Ministry, and they brought somebody in from Azkaban. He said it was the most awful feeling, like his insides turned to ice. And that was just from seeing one..." he broke off suddenly, his eyes focused somewhere over Lily's head.

She turned to find her sister staring at all three of them, one hand clapped over her mouth, and eyes wide and horrified. "Petunia," Lily ventured, stepping forward, "don't worry. Azkaban's nowhere near here."

Petunia flinched as if struck, but before Lily could say anything, James called out over her shoulder, "Oi! Wormtail! Mrs P.! Over here!"

Lily spun round to find Peter Pettigrew approaching, dragging his school trunk and followed by a petite, grey-haired woman who could only be his mother. When she looked back, Petunia had vanished, but James had taken her arm before she could leave to seek her sister out.

"This is Lily Evans," James declared proudly. "Moony's around here somewhere..."

"Lovely to meet you, Lily." Mrs Pettigrew smiled, and the resemblance was quite uncanny between her and her son. "James talked about you so much when he visited."

"Did he?" she glanced at James, whose cheeks pinked a little. "Nothing too bad, I hope."

"Not at all! You're just as pretty as he said you were." She seemed about to say something more, but her smile faltered as her eyes fixed on something over Lily's shoulder. "Why, Sirius, you quite startled me."

"Mrs P., good to see you again." He grinned, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes, as he bent to kiss her on the cheek. "How've you been?"

"Well enough, dear, well enough. Now stand up straight, and let's get a look at you." Lily stifled the irrational urge to laugh at seeing Sirius bossed about by a woman nearly a foot shorter than him. "Where were you? Jamaica, Peter said?"

"Bermuda," he corrected her. "My uncle lives there."

"Lord, you look like your father..." she murmured, and Lily could have sworn she saw the glitter of tears in the older woman's eyes.

"Mum!" Peter looked horrified. "You're embarrassing me!"

"Wormtail, it's not a problem," Sirius assured him. "I mean that."

Mrs Pettigrew, apparently recovered, pursed her lips in disapproval. "You boys and your nicknames. Aren't you a bit old for that?"

Unseen on either side of her, Peter and James rolled their eyes in concord. Lily leant forward and whispered, "I don't understand it either, if that's any consolation." She was rewarded with a surprisingly pretty, albeit misty-eyed, smile.

"Oh, Mrs P.," Sirius put in, "Prongs, here, took your advice. Lil can understand the appeal of a nice tenor." He ducked the swat headed his way, laughing. "You liked it and you know it."

"Have you any idea precisely how much time I had to spend explaining that little incident to my mother?" Lily demanded, the force of the question severely undercut by the grin she knew was nearly splitting her face in two. "She's a music teacher!"

James's sudden look of horror set them all laughing again, and that was how Remus found them, emerging from the train with an expression of puzzlement. "I leave for five minutes and something interesting happens? That's not fair."

"Of course. We make a point of only being interesting when your back's turned. You're the responsible one, after all," Sirius pointed out with a grin.

Remus hit him in the shoulder, sending him barrelling into James, who barely kept his balance by clinging to a nearby pole. At the corner of Lily's eye, something flashed, and as she turned, Dorcas Meadowes lowered her camera with an impish grin. "Couldn't resist. That was quite brilliant, Remus."

Remus' answer was a bow that would have done Sirius proud. Beside him, Sirius stuck his tongue out at Dorcas, prompting another photograph. James, in the meantime, had retrieved the newspaper from where he had dropped it, and was glowering down at the article as he read.

"Something the matter, Prongs?" Sirius asked, glancing over James's shoulder. "You don't approve of Crouch and his methods? Father used to say he was too ambitious by half."

"Bartemius Crouch?" Mrs Pettigrew was frowning as well, looking far fiercer all of a sudden. "Of course he is. Martin used to say the same thing. The man barely spoke two words to me at the funeral, but of course he was all sympathy for Arcturus' wife..." She broke off, realising precisely what she had said. "I apologise, Sirius, dear. I shouldn't have said that."

"You had every right to, Mrs P.," he replied darkly. "Besides, I'm not speaking to her anymore. I don't care."

"I do feel compelled to suggest that perhaps he's a victim of the Unfortunate Name Syndrome," Dorcas put in, her expression as innocent as she could possibly make it. "I mean, really, if your name was Bartemius, wouldn't you try to make up for it? He's got a son, too, with the same name. One of my ickle fourth-years. Can't say boo to a goose."

Sirius choked on a snort of laughter, and James hid his grin behind the newspaper. Remus let out a world-weary sigh. "That would be due to these two miscreants, Dorcas. When Barty Crouch Jr was a first-year, they decided it might be fun to lock him in the girls' toilet with Moaning Myrtle for five hours..."

"Oh, it wasn't five hours! More like three."

"...because he had the nerve to defend Regulus Black when Sirius tried to kick him across the hall," Remus concluded, ignoring James's interruption.

"I reserve the right to kick my own relations, thank you very much," Sirius informed him with a glare. "And now that you've met them, I'd expect you to agree with me."

"Well," Lily stated, glancing around the group, "as much as I'd love to continue this fascinating discussion, I can think of at least one other person who really ought to be helping me keep the younger students in order. Potter?"

James grinned weakly, lowering the newspaper to reveal the gleaming Head Boy badge pinned to the front of his robes.

Sirius shook his head. "I don't know, mate. This still seems like a terrible idea to me."

"Well, thankfully you've got no say in the naming of Head Boys," Lily retorted, linking her arm through James's and strolling toward her parents. "Train leaves in ten minutes. I'd suggest you say your goodbyes."

Dorcas shoved her camera into her bag. "I'd best go and do my job as well. Care to give me a hand, Remus? Official Prefect or not, I trust you more with first-years than I trust that rascal," she pre-empted the argument he was almost certain to make by pointing at Sirius.

"In a moment," he replied, smiling dryly. "Bye Mrs P., take care. Got your trunk, Wormtail? We're in the third carriage, last compartment."

"Thanks, Moony. Bye Mum!" Peter pressed a hurried kiss to his mother's cheek and dragged his trunk toward the train.

Sirius half-moved to follow him when Mrs Pettigrew caught his arm. "Sirius, your father was a good man. I would never think or say otherwise."

"I know," he said without looking at her. "Take care, Mrs P."

"You too, dear. Though I do have a favour to ask." Sirius turned back to her, and she continued, "Peter said you three were helping him with Transfiguration?"

"Yeah, though mostly Moony. Is it working?"

She nodded. "I hate to ask you, especially in your final year, but..."

"Don't worry about it," he cut her off gently. "We'll make sure he passes his N.E.W.T.s. He'll be fine. And it's not a problem. Friends help friends, and all that."

"Thank you. I just know he'd never want to ask for himself..." She shrugged, as if to say 'yet another trait of young men that I simply do not understand'. "Well, I'll let you go then."

"Bye, Mrs P.," he said with a wave. Adjusting his cloak slightly, he glanced about to make sure they hadn't left anything sitting on the platform, and started toward the train.

"Excuse me, young man!" Spinning on his heel, Sirius found himself facing an elderly gentleman with an unruly shock of white hair and wire-rimmed spectacles several generations removed from James's, though just as battered round the edges. "I seem to have misplaced my daughter."

"Er...is she supposed to be here, sir?" That the man was a Muggle was quite plainly obvious from the way his eyes roved over the platform in undisguised fascination.

"Yes, yes, she is," was the admittedly impatient reply as the man brought his attention back to Sirius, and fixed him with a surprisingly intimidating stare. "She's tallish, dark hair, in her final year, whatever that is..."

"Oh? A seventh-year? What's her name, then? I probably know her."

But there was no need, as it turned out. From over Sirius' shoulder, a very familiar voice called out, "Dad! Why are you still here?"

"Because, young lady, I have no idea how to get out," the gentleman informed his daughter. Sirius, glancing between them, tried his very best to keep a straight face. "Your mother went to find a toilet and I haven't seen her since."

"You go out precisely the same way you come in, Dad." Dorcas rolled her eyes. "Oh well, since you're here, why don't I introduce you? Sirius, this is my father. Dad, this is Sirius Black."

"Sirius?" her father echoed, frowning perplexedly. "The Dog Star? Or is that Betelgeuse? I was never much good at astronomy."

"No, Sirius is the Dog Star," he was quick to clarify.

"A curious name."

"Bit of a family tradition."

"Really?" Mr Meadowes' eyes lit up in fascination. "I don't suppose you'd tell me more?"

"Well, there isn't much more, really..." Sirius glanced at Dorcas as if for aid, but she just shrugged. "My family just tends to name children after stars or constellations. Not sure why. Just one of things that became a tradition after who knows how many generations."

"Fascinating. Just fascinating."

"Dad, really. As if you're one to talk about strange names," Dorcas remarked with a sigh. "If Mum had been awake when the doctor asked for my name..."

"We can only thank the Lord above that you weren't a boy," a woman's voice put in from behind Mr Meadowes, the words clearly enunciated with just the slightest trace of an accent that Sirius couldn't quite place. "I suspect he would have named you Corydon, and I would have been forced to undergo copious paperwork in order to change it."

"Your name isn't all that bad," Sirius protested. "You're better off than my poor cousin-once-removed. Can you imagine being named Nymphadora?"

"Ugh." Dorcas' nose wrinkled. "You're right, that may well be worse than even Corydon. "Anyway. Mum, meet Sirius. Sirius, my mum."

"So you're Sirius." He found himself being looked up and down by a rather imposing-looking woman in a fuchsia travelling suit. "Well, chérie, I must admit your taste has improved."

"Mum!" Sirius bit back the threatening smile at the normally unruffled Dorcas Meadowes blushing quite impressively. "You're being embarrassing!"

"I am not. I'm speaking the truth," Mrs Meadowes retorted. "That last one was a disaster."

"What on earth are you talking about, Cat?" demanded her husband. "I don't remember any disaster."

"Because, Randolph, you weren't here last year. You had that conference in Exeter." She turned back to Sirius and Dorcas. "Well, I suspect you two had better be off, and us as well. We've a train of our own to catch at ten past." Leaning close, she kissed her daughter on the cheek, immediately wiping off the smudge of lipstick with her handkerchief. "Take care, send me an owl when you can."

"Will do, Mum. Bye, Dad."

"And you'll ask your professor about that...thing, right, Dorcas?"

"Yes, Dad, I'll speak to Professor Agrippa," she replied in mockingly long-suffering tones. "I'll write to you when I can about it. Bye!" Taking Sirius' arm quite firmly, she all but dragged him back toward the train. They boarded just as the whistle blew, and Dorcas finally relaxed, laughing. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. My parents are bloody embarrassing sometimes."

"No more than anyone else's," he replied. "What was your father asking about, out of curiosity?"

"Oh, he's got a list of questions about alchemy and such..." Dorcas made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "Nothing Professor Agrippa can't answer in a few minutes. It's not nearly as interesting as it sounds, I'm afraid." She shook her head. "Parents!"

"Oh, they aren't that bad," he assured her. "Even Prongs managed to meet Lily's parents with little to no fireworks, so I think that can be labelled a success."

"So it appears," she agreed. "Of course, Lily has informed me that they're just friends."

"Oh, bollocks to that," Sirius scoffed. "Prongs obviously has a very different idea."

"I only tell you what she's told me," Dorcas reminded him. "And I don't see James arguing with her."

"Of course he's not arguing with her! If he argues with her, he loses her completely," Sirius groaned. "No wonder he's so skittish."

"Lily's taking her time," she sighed. "It's not her fault, Sirius. She doesn't want to dive into anything, and can you blame her? After all, she's still friends with Kate Campbell, not to mention they're in the same dormitory. This is not the sort of thing where you just...barge in."

"They've gone out twice. Doesn't that count as something slightly more than friendship?"

"Slightly more, yes. But that doesn't mean they're together either."

"Too many gradations for me," he remarked, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Come on, let's go. Prongs and Evans get to spend the journey being official and responsible, so the rest of us might as well enjoy relaxing on their account."

"Sirius..." Dorcas seemed hesitant all of a sudden, "I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but..."

"Is something the matter?"

"Your brother's back."

"What?" Sirius blinked. "Reg's at Durmstrang. Why on earth would Mother bring him back?"

Dorcas shrugged. "I didn't actually speak to him. Just saw him with Barty Crouch Jr. and Snape and that crowd. Though he didn't look at all happy, Sirius."

"Of course he wouldn't. Little twerp probably misses all those wonderful Dark Arts lessons he'd be learning if he were still at Durmstrang." He shook his head. "You'd think that if Mother wanted to bring him back, she'd wait till I left. Untoward influences and all that."

"I have no idea, Sirius. I just thought I ought to tell you before you accidentally tripped over him or something like that." She pulled open the door to the corridor. "I'll meet you in the compartment in a half-hour or so. I need to check on the first-years."

"Dorcas." He grabbed her hand, as she was halfway through the door, and drew her back to kiss her. Pulling away slightly, he grinned. "Seemed the thing to do."

"You'd best not do that in public, Mr Black," she warned him, well aware that her smile belied the words. "It would quite undermine my authority." She pre-empted any argument by placing one finger over his mouth. "Half an hour." And with that, she hurried down the corridor.

The half-hour passed with unsurprising speed, given the constant questions the first-years kept throwing at her. She noted with a great deal of amusement that James Potter had already acquired a miniature following amongst the more mischievous, after having related a story of some prank or another. Content that things were at least mostly in order, Dorcas elected to return to their compartment for a short respite from the questions.

A seventh-year Hufflepuff whose name she did not recall was blocking the corridor as she entered the fourth carriage. Straightening, Dorcas stepped forward to try and slip past him, but he grabbed her arm so tightly that she cried out in surprise, wincing as a bolt dug into her spine. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Let me go!"

"Maybe you shouldn't be fraternising with the enemy, then," he hissed. "Or should I say shagging the enemy?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "I have no idea what you mean. I don't even know you."

"I know you well enough. You're Meadowes. Sirius Black's whore."

"I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue," she retorted. "And furthermore, what I do in my spare time is none of your business."

"People are dying, Meadowes, if you haven't noticed. And you know who's killing them?"

"Sirius Black bloody well isn't."

"He's a Black," was the implacable reply, accompanied by the tightening of his fingers on her arm. "They're pureblood fiends and you know it. What'll you do when he and those harpy cousins of his kill your family? Or won't you care?"

"You've got no idea what you're talking about. Now let me go." He did, with such force that her elbow slammed painfully into the corner of the window frame. "Wanker," she muttered, careful that he was out of earshot before she did so. As she touched her fingers to her throbbing elbow, they came away bloody. "Oh hell."

"Dorcas, what's going on?" It was the little one--Pettigrew, was it?--standing in front of her now, his voice shaking slightly. "I just saw from a distance..."

"It's nothing, Peter," she replied automatically.

"You're bleeding. Here, let me." Before she could stop him, he murmured an incantation, touching his wand to her elbow. "That better?"

"Yes, rather." Dorcas studied him in surprise. "You're a fair hand with healing spells. Is that your career plan, then? You and Lily both at St Mungo's?"

"You're joking, right?" Peter laughed, the sound as far removed from humour as anything could be. "I'm surprised Padfoot never mentioned that I barely passed the Potions O.W.L. Didn't even get accepted to Agrippa's N.E.W.T. class. He bloody well told everyone else the moment it happened."

"I'm sure he didn't mean...but that's no matter. Surely they could make an exception." She cast a quick cleaning spell and straightened her robes. "You've obviously got the talent, and in times like these, they need all the Healers they can get."

Peter shook his head. "I'm not the sort of person they make exceptions for." Then, before she could argue the point, he lowered his voice and asked, "What was that about? With Robertson?"

"Is that his name?" Dorcas queried absently. "Apparently it's offensive to him that I'm involved with Sirius the Pure-Blood Evil. Some sort of reverse blood-segregation. You'd think a Hufflepuff would know better, honestly."

"Everyone's really scared, Dorcas. I know it doesn't excuse him, but..." Peter trailed off awkwardly. "Laura was telling me. They're the hardest hit. Hufflepuff, that is. All that tolerance coming back to haunt them."

"How many did they lose?"

"Ten total. Not even counting the first-years."

"Dear God." Dorcas closed her eyes. "No wonder. Ravenclaw's lost four. One was Kirkpatrick, the other Prefect from our year. They got his entire family when they were on holiday in Cornwall. So many in one summer..."

Peter sagged against the door to the nearest compartment. "I almost didn't want to come back," he confessed softly. "That's the thing about my mum. She's far away from everything. No-one would ever think to attack a random Muggle woman in Norwich. There's nothing there."

"But that's what they target, Peter. The isolated ones. Not," she added quickly, "that I think your mum's in danger. I'm sure she's fine. But I can't think of any place safer than Hogwarts."

"Mum's not in danger. That's the advantage to being a Pettigrew. People usually forget you exist." He smiled weakly. "I think this might be the one time I'm not bothered by that."

She returned the smile to the best of her ability. "We should probably get back." Peter nodded, saying nothing. Dorcas turned and started down the corridor before pausing and glancing over her shoulder. "Oh, and Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you..." she hesitated, "Please, don't tell Sirius what happened. You know how he is."

Peter's smile was all the more surprising for being genuine. "Yeah, he'd hex Robertson into next year if he knew."

"Precisely. We've got enough...there's enough dissension. We don't need to add to it."

It proved surprisingly easy to keep the incident a secret from Sirius, between Dorcas' constant running from compartment to compartment and the apparently heated discussion between Sirius and Remus on the disgraceful state of the Ministry of Magic.

"...and who does this Dolores Umbridge think she is, anyway?" Sirius huffed as Dorcas pulled the door closed behind her. "I mean, honestly! Aren't there far better things to do than--?"

"Padfoot," Remus interrupted softly, before turning to Dorcas. "You look exhausted."

"Were there always this many first-years?" she asked with a faint smile. "I don't think so. It feels like the whole train's overrun."

"Probably because it is," Sirius remarked matter-of-factly. "Hogwarts being the safest place in the wizarding world and all. I'm not at all surprised that everyone's suddenly decided to send their children here. I know Andromeda would send Dora in a heartbeat if she were old enough."

"It makes sense." Dorcas took a quick glance at Sirius' copy of the Daily Prophet and peered up at Remus. "What was he ranting about this time?"

"Dolores Umbridge," Remus answered, the words laced with well-hidden annoyance. "Lower-level Ministry official..."

"Oh, don't mince words, Moony," Sirius interjected. "She's a right bitch, that's what she is. Made some statement in the Prophet about the Werewolf Registry being too lax. As if we haven't got bigger problems."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Dorcas frowned. "I never knew you to be a particular proponent for werewolf rights."

"Werewolves are pe...well, no, I don't suppose they're just like everyone else, but honestly. You're fairly mean three days out of the month---Ow!" He rubbed his left hand, where Dorcas had rapped him rather smartly on the knuckles with her wand. "I don't see you denying it."

"I don't turn into a ravening beast, and if that's what you're attempting to suggest..."

"I suggested nothing of the sort," he cut her off quickly, offering a creditably innocent smile. "But considering that werewolves are perfectly normal for most of the month...it hardly seems fair, don't you think, Moony?"

"I'm staying out of this discussion, Padfoot," Remus declared, leaning back in his seat and shooting Sirius a quelling glare. "How are our esteemed Head Boy and Head Girl doing?"

"James has a legion of adoring fans already," Dorcas told him. "He told them about the time you four enchanted several suits of armour to duel in the middle of the Great Hall, and I think they're his for life."

"Oh, but that was tame!" protested Sirius. "What about the time we made the statue of Salazar Slytherin sing thirty-seven different verses of 'Wizards Do It With Their Wands'?"

"That's hardly suitable for first-years!" Dorcas refuted, doing her best to keep from smiling. "Thirty-seven different verses?"

"Thirty-seven. I think we stayed awake the entire night thinking them up, didn't we, Moony?"

Remus shook his head, grinning. "We did. Granted, after about fifteen, the quality dropped drastically. I think we just started inserting names of random Slytherins into verses that already existed. Not that it really mattered."

"When was this, and how on earth do I not remember it?"

"Fifth year sometime, wasn't it?" When Sirius glanced his way, Remus nodded, and Sirius continued, "Yeah, I think it was after one of Agrippa's particularly nasty O.W.L.-preparation essays. We needed a rest."

"So you spent an entire night thinking up dirty lyrics?" Dorcas enquired doubtfully.

"Oh, it was worth it. Snivelly turned so red I was sure his head was about to explode. And Lestrange Minor looked decidedly suspicious. I think we might have hit upon something he actually did."

"Something I'm sure I don't want to think about. Ever." Remus shuddered.

"I think it involved Bludgers..."

"Padfoot!"

"Sorry."

Dorcas glanced between them, very obviously shaking from suppressed laughter. "I should go check on..."

"Your charges, of course," concluded Sirius with a wicked grin. "Maybe you ought to tell them that story."

Dorcas merely glared at him and left the compartment. She had barely vanished into the corridor when the door flew open again, this time to admit a sandy-haired sixth-year wearing an irrepressible grin. "Just thought I'd inform you gentlemen that Hufflepuff is about to rise again."

"Rise again?" echoed Sirius, laughing wickedly. "I wasn't aware you were having problems of that particular sort, Fenwick."

At the new arrival's glare, Remus grinned. "Don't look at me. You left it wide open."

"What's this all about?" Sirius drawled. "We're not the ones you want to assure of that anyway. We know better."

Benjy Fenwick reached behind his back and revealed a shining new broom. "Cleansweep Eight. Birthday present from my grandfather."

"I'll be damned." Even Sirius looked impressed. "Though if you think Potter's going to let Gryffindor lose when he's captain, you're quite mistaken."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Fenwick warned him, his smile softening the words. "Where's Barton anyway? I want to see his jaw hit the floor."

Remus' smile vanished instantly. "You don't know?"

"I don't..." Fenwick stepped into the compartment and pulled the door closed behind him. "What are you talking about?"

"Barton's dead. Last month."

"Outside the Leaky Cauldron, of all places," Sirius added darkly.

"I had no...bloody hell, I'm sorry," he murmured. "Who's your new Seeker, then?"

"The hell if I know," Remus said, forcing a smile. "I doubt anyone else will have a Cleansweep Eight, though, so you're safe on that count."

"Of course, we all know you can't even fly a Shooting Star straight, so you're still hopeless," Sirius jibed.

But Fenwick didn't even crack a smile, instead continued to glower at the ground. "Why Barton? What the hell did he do?"

"Nothing. That's the worst part," Sirius almost growled. "Nobody's done anything, Fenwick. It's not a matter of cause and effect. Though I'm suspecting it had something to do with Barton's father being fairly high up in the Ministry echelons and speaking out against Voldemort. A warning, so to speak."

Fenwick had paled at Sirius' use of the name, but he did not comment upon it. "Bloody awful, that's what it is."

"Oh, nobody's arguing that, at least not outside the Slytherin compartment," Remus observed. "They haven't even lost anyone, have they?"

"One," Sirius replied softly. "Underwood, one of the Prefects. Same reason they got Barton, except that it was Underwood's aunt and uncle they wanted to warn."

"How do you know all this?" Remus asked, eyes narrowing.

"Prongs' dad," answered Sirius. "He's an advocate--"

"A barrister," Remus clarified, for Fenwick's benefit.

"--and occasionally he's asked to sit on the Wizengamot when they need an expert opinion."

"Isn't he worried someone might want to warn him?" Fenwick looked distinctly worried. "I would be, if I were him."

"That's why their house is protected by Merlin knows how many wards," was Sirius' reply, and though his tone was perfectly level, Remus noted the telltale fidgeting of his right hand with the edge of his cloak. After this many years, it would be a shame if he couldn't read Sirius like a book.

***

The Welcoming Feast was far more subdued than it had been in previous years, owing to the disturbing number of empty chairs at three out of the four house tables before the first-years were Sorted. Only Slytherin seemed to have returned with most of their numbers intact. It was with more than a little trepidation that Lily went to her dormitory afterward, well aware of the fact that she would have to make conversation with Kate.

The curtains were closed around Kate's bed, but Lily called out nonetheless, "Kate? Are you there?"

There was a rustling sound from within. "Lil, is that you?"

Lily pulled open the curtains and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. "I had no idea about Underwood. If I'd known, I'd have spoken to you earlier. Truly."

"I know," Kate murmured, lifting her head from the pillow. "It's alright. I didn't know him very well, after all. We were just partners in Herbology last year, and we ran into one another in Diagon Alley when he asked me out. And then, a week later..." She swallowed. "I hate this, Lil."

"Oh Kate." Lily felt tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Kate sat up and hugged her close. "He was nice, Lil. Why is this happening?"

"I don't know. Dorcas was telling me about Kirkpatrick on the train...the other Ravenclaw Prefect. I don't even know who the new Prefect is, and I'm Head Girl."

"Congratulations, by the way." Kate managed a watery smile. "I never did tell you."

"Thanks. And congratulations yourself, on making Prefect," replied Lily.

"Yeah, it's me and Becky, since Remus Lupin resigned his...you don't know why, do you?" Lily shrugged. Kate went silent for a second or two before finally saying, "Lily, you needn't beat round the bush. I know you went on a date with James."

It was Lily's turn to avert her eyes as she searched for something to say. "It's really nothing."

"Lil, look at me." Lily obeyed reluctantly, and Kate pulled away just far enough to look at her directly. "I'm not angry."

"Truly?"

Kate nodded. "James and I broke up amicably. It's that simple. I don't suppose we were very good for one another anyway. You get on far better with his friends than I do, after all."

"I don't think that's...well..." Lily trailed off, at a loss.

"So much for James being an arrogant toerag, then," remarked Kate, brows raised delicately. "Or that you'd rather date the Giant Squid?"

"He was busy, I'd have you know," Lily retorted.

"So..." Kate smiled rather wickedly, "...do you like him?"

"I...yes. I do, rather. Though it does absolutely destroy my credibility."

"Not that badly. He is James Potter after all. I can't imagine too many girls would blame you. After all, he's now Head Boy along with everything else." She tilted her head to one side, studying Lily speculatively. "One wonders how on earth he'd find the time for anyone."

Lily shrugged. "I have no idea. I know he's rather worried about Quidditch trials..."

The conversation thankfully drifted to less awkward subjects until, around midnight, Lily begged off to go to bed. Apparently luck was on her side, at least for the time being.