“Dementors,” voiced James. He swallowed, feeling sick with dread. “The Dementors are loose.”

“Jus’ be careful, Prongs, you sodding idiot,” he growled unhappily. He added, his words slurring as sleep began to claim him once more, “Tell Lily hallo for me.”

“For one, Moony, it’s not paid work, and for two,” he carried on quickly before Remus could object to the first point. “Er... for two,” he repeated firmly, racking his brain. He couldn’t think of anything else.

“For two, it’s not paid work,” supplied Sirius helpfully.

They rounded the corner, barely had a chance to glimpse the group of people gathered there, barely registered the fact that a few of the faces were familiar to them, when they heard an incantation. "Petrificus Totalis!" and Remus suddenly went stiff as a board.

“There’s some strange thing’s been going on around here,” he said under his breath.

“Morning, Lily,” said James cheerfully, looking exhausted and thoroughly clubbed upside the bloody head by something.

Bertulf lowered the spear and stared evenly at his companion. "It's a wizard," he snarled. "Look at how he's dressed," and he spat again, the wad of saliva nearly hitting Remus's foot.

Why did you do that? You didn't have to do that, James thought desperately, and he turned away.

"Hundreds of hooded people are parading the streets, setting houses to fire..."

Fawkes let out a cry, beautiful in the tortured night as he soared above the heads of the dark witches and wizards.

The breaking news story was playing on all channels. She flipped through them, and back again, until one of them finally gave her the information she was looking for.

“What are you waiting for!” screamed Moody again, ducking a black bolt of lightning. His wand moved frantically, offensive spells, defensive spells. He didn't have a second to spare to apprehend Regulus. “You’re the only one who can stop him, Black, do it! Do it now!”

“Do you know what today is a good day for?” he asked the bird, who unsurprisingly had no answer. “Today is a good day for visiting James’s parents.”

These people were killers, intelligent and crafty. They were Slytherins. All of them. It was all Sirius could think about now as he lurked past old portraits of Lucius dressed in green and silver attire.

An answering laugh, female and cheeky and wild and teasing, echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and decorative arches, off of the fountain and the floors and ceiling. Edgar turned in a slow circle as he followed the sound.

James gave his head a single shake. “He’s too old. If he was younger… He’s one hundred and twelve years old…”

“Padfoot is gone,” Peter said sullenly, looking away from James.

The smile instantly slipped from James’s face as he lowered his wand and turned to Peter. “What?”