By the time the Daily Prophet had announced the murder of Muggle activist Winthrop Jones, James had already resolved that he wasn't going back to Hogwarts. The death of Winthrop Jones was the seventh murder the Prophet had reported in the short time James had been back from school. According to the Ministry, the recent string of deaths were completely unrelated; nothing but a morbid coincidence. But James had listened to his parents' tense whispers and had paid close attention to the rushed meetings his father was hosting with more and more frequency lately. Clearly James's parents didn't want to worry him, but if they really wanted to keep the truth from him they ought to have done a better job in hiding it.

Death Eaters had become a popular topic in the news over the last two years, though it was widely believed by most that the threat they posed was well contained. However, from what James had gathered through eavesdropping on his father's meetings, the Death Eaters numbers were growing rapidly and their influence was everywhere. It had even been discovered recently that a high ranking Ministry official was affiliated with them, and had been feeding them information from the inside. Of course, the story had been covered up in the Prophet so as to avoid mass panic, but the message to James was clear: nowhere was safe. Despite all of the confusion going on, that much was obvious.

With everything he knew was happening, James couldn't bare the thought of going back to school and pretending that everything was normal. People were dying, and his parents just expected him to worry about some stupid tests? He knew that he had to find a way to help fight, and after his father had received an unexpected visitor at their home, James was even more resolved.

About three weeks after the school year had ended, James and Sirius were in the woods behind the Potters' house playing a version of Quidditch they had made up themselves. Flying high above the treetops they had a view of the winding hills all around the Potters' property. James was lucky in that his family didn't live anywhere near Muggles, so he could fly as high as he wanted without worrying about being seen. That afternoon, he found himself drifting without purpose through the air, simply staring at the treetops below him. There was a light breeze that day, and the sky was cloudless; a rare sight, even during the summer. After a blissful moment of silence as he stared below him, James was abruptly brought back to reality with a thud to the back of his skull.

"Oi!" he shouted, his hand caressing the spot where the quaffle had hit him. "What the hell, mate?

Sirius appeared beside him on his own broom, looking amused. "Couldn't resist," he replied simply, shrugging. "What are you looking at anyway?"

"Just admiring the view."

Sirius looked back silently, the breeze moving his dark hair out of his eyes. After a moment he said, "It's a sight better than London, I'll give ya that."

"I just hope it lasts," said James. Sirius looked at him, his expression sour.

"Well that's ominous," he said.

James shrugged. Sirius was his best friend, but for some reason he didn't like expressing his concerns about the recent deaths with him. It wasn't that he didn't think he would take him seriously, or that he was afraid he'd tell his parents, or anything like that. James couldn't quite place the feeling.

"Who's that?" said Sirius suddenly, breaking James out of his reverie for the second time.

"Where?" said James sharply, his head snapping up so quickly he strained his neck. Sirius was pointing back towards the house. James squinted his eyes. Someone had just apparated in front of the back porch, but whoever it was, they were too far away to make them out. Without saying a word to Sirius, James immediately pointed his broom downward and made a beeline toward the house. His heart was racing; his throat constricting. 'No' he was saying in his head. 'No no no no no no no no...'

He jumped off of his broom before it reached the ground, but didn't lose any footing. He was running at full speed toward the back porch, and he was pulling his wand out of the pocket of his jeans. His father walked out the back door with open arms, and without hesitation James shouted, "DAD! GET BACK INSIDE NOW! IT'S THEM!"

His father froze in his tracks and looked at him with bewilderment. James's heart was hammering against his ribcage, but when he finally looked at the person who had materialized in his yard, he felt his face flush with warmth. Standing on the back porch was an old man with a white glistening beard, who was wearing pale blue silk robes and half-moon spectacles on his crooked nose...

"Who is 'them'? Son, are you all right?"

James skidded to a halt, panting, as his father looked on with concern. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Sirius land on the lawn next to him.

"What's going on?" Sirius said in a tone that very clearly didn't know whether to be joking or serious. James stowed his wand back into his pocket and walked toward the cause of his concern: Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's expression had hardly changed since James had appeared, so it was hard for him to gather the Headmaster's emotions. He seemed altogether unphased by James's reaction to his sudden appearance.

"I'm sorry to startle you, James," said Dumbledore at last, reaching out his hand to shake James's. James returned the gesture hesitantly, and then instinctively ruffled his own hair in an attempt to appear nonchalant. "I imagine you're not used to strangers calling on your home in the middle of the holiday."

"No," said James, his voice forced calm. " I, uh, I guess not." Then, sheepishly, he added, " I'm sorry I pulled my wand on you, Sir." Dumbledore held up his hand, waving it lightly in protest.

"You can never be too cautious during times like these. It's entirely my fault for intruding on your family like this."

James's father, seeming to sense that the conversation was migrating to a place he didn't want it to go, cleared his throat loudly. The others turned to look as he gestured inside and said, "Would you like to come in, Albus? Lenora just made some iced tea."

"That sounds lovely. Thank you, Richard."

They all made their way into the kitchen, the refreshing air from the house cooling the sweat on their faces. Sirius set his broom under the windowsill and then pulled James to the side. When they were sufficiently out of earshot from the others, Sirius whispered, "What the bloody hell was that about?"

" I don't know. I didn't know it was Dumbledore," said James, who was determinedly trying not to meet Sirius's gaze. He took off his glasses and whiped them on his shirt while Sirius scrutinized him.

"Who did you think it was?" asked Sirius.

"I don't know, okay? Just leave it."

Sirius stared at him, unwavering. After a few seconds of silence as James stared at the floor, Sirius said, "It's not stupid to think they would come here. I think about it too sometimes."

The tone of his voice took James aback. There was something akin to fatherly authority in it. Anyway, it was enough to make James look him in the eye. He didn't say anything in response, but Sirius seemed to understand. He nodded solemnly, and without a word, walked back into the kitchen. James followed.

Dumbledore was sitting at the kitchen island on a bar stool, his robes pulled up to reveal mismatched socks. The sight of Dumbledore, with his long beard and elaborate robes, sitting in the family kitchen sipping on iced tea, was just peculiar enough to make James chuckle. Though, there was something about Dumbledore's presence, however pleasant it was, that made James feel uneasy.

James's father worked in the Minister of Magic's office as one of his closest associates. James couldn't remember his father's exact job title, because it was incredibly long, and his father rarely said it. But since he worked so closely to the Minister, James was used to important people walking through his house. His father often held meetings in his home because he felt it was more personal and more private. Privacy was especially important recently. However, James's father seemed almost as surprised to see Dumbledore as James was, which meant that Dumbledore had something important to tell his father. James stared at the Headmaster's face, trying to decipher if the news he had for his father was good or bad.

"Sir?" said Sirius loudly. James frowned. Sirius always took the direct approach. "I don't mean to be rude, but why exactly are you here?"

" Sirius, don't hound the man" snapped James's father. "He just sat down for Merlin's sake."

"No, no, it's fine," said Dumbledore humbly. "Your hospitality notwithstanding, I am intruding on your family. You have a right to know why I am here." He lifted the glass of iced tea to his lips and downed the last sip. Then, setting the glass down, he said, " I've come, with deepest respect, to ask your father to join the Order of the Phoenix."

James and Sirius both sat up rigidly in their seats, staring at Dumbledore avidly. James's father's face flushed beat red, the lines on his forehead creasing. His face looked like a mixture between embarrassed, angry, and confused. Before anyone could say anything more, James's mother walked into the room.

"Why hello, Albus!" she said brightly. Then, sensing the sudden tension in the room, she asked, "What's going on?"

"Dumbledore's just asked Dad to join the Order of the Phoenix!" said James loudly. He actually had no idea what the Order of the Phoenix was, but if he knew Dumbledore, and he knew his father, then he could make a pretty good guess. He exchanged a look with Sirius, who seemed to be sharing his same sense of excitement. James's mother, however, seemed to be having a similar reaction to the news as his father. James watched as her face slowly descended into a deep shade of red.

"Boy's, please go upstairs," said James's father measuredly.

"What? Why?" snapped James. This was finally the opportunity he had been waiting for, and now his father was shutting him out?

"I told you to leave," his father said darkly. "Don't make me ask again! This is not a conversation that you need to be a part of."

"Dumbledore thought it was okay for us to hear!" said Sirius, pushing himself out of his chair. James's father snapped his head around to face Sirius, his eyes glimmering in anger. However, before he could say anything Dumbledore spoke up.

" Richard, I am sorry, I should have waited to speak in private," He said evenly. Then he stood up and turned to face James and Sirius, his expression impassive and stern. "James, Sirius, I cannot speak for your father. You need to listen to him."

Sirius openly gaped at him, but James shook his head in concession. Begrudgingly, they both made their way up the stairs as slowly as possible, hoping to catch part of the conversation. However, James's parents were careful not to breathe a word until James and Sirius were well out of earshot.

Once at the top of the stairs, James and Sirius simultaneously dropped to the floor, pressing their ears against the ground. James could just make out Dumbledore's muffled voice through the floor, but he couldn't make out the words.

"Dammit!" he muttered under his breath. "We're missing it!"

"Hang on," said Sirius, his face lighting up deviously. "I've got an idea."

James sat up, waiting for his friend to elaborate. But before he could say a word, Sirius's face began to change. It was morphing, shifting into something else. His whole body was changing. Within a matter of seconds, a large black dog was sitting in the spot that Sirius had once stood. James's face lit up.

"Sirius, you're brilliant," he said, patting the dog on his head. "Can you hear them?"

Sirius nodded his head in ascent. Then he resumed his place on the floor, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, his ears poised to listen. James waited there with him for close to an hour. Despite the fact that he was sitting quite still, his heart was racing. He wanted desperately to ask Sirius what he was hearing, but he wouldn't be able to answer until he was human. So James sat in silence, fiddling anxiously with his hands. Soon, the voices below them began to fade. Then, as suddenly as he had changed before, Sirius shifted back into his normal self. James looked at him wide-eyed, waiting expectantly for him to speak.

"In the room," Sirius whispered, and the two of them bolted toward James's bedroom, closing the door as gently and quietly as possible behind them. As soon as the door was shut, Sirius spoke.

" Dumbledore's started an army!" he said in a voice that was only half whisper.

"What?" said James, his mouth agape. "You're talking about the Order of the Phoenix?"

"What else? It's like Dumbledore's own private army, working to fight against You-Know-Who," said Sirius. His eyes were bright, and he was gesticulating wildly as he explained. " Dumbledore's decided that the Ministry isn't doing enough to fight the Death Eaters, so he's recruiting the most powerful witches and wizards he knows to fight them!"

"That's brilliant!" said James. It was exactly as he had hoped. He knew Dumbledore would never sit idely by while people were getting killed left and right. This was the first good news James had heard in a long time. " So did he say what my Dad is going to be doing for the Order?"

James assumed that his dad would be serving as somekind of informant, seeing as he worked for the Minister. That was probably why Dumbledore had chosen him. Maybe he would be trying to smoke out any Death Eaters he found trying to infiltrate the Ministry? James looked at Sirius expectantly, but Sirius's avid expression had changed to one of hesitation.

"What's wrong?" said James.

" Your dad didn't accept," said Sirius, who was now avoiding James's gaze. James stared at him blankly, seeming to not understand.

" Didn't accept what?" said James. Sirius didn't respond immediately.

"Your dad told Dumbledore he wouldn't join."

James said nothing to this news; his body was rigid and still. Sirius eyed him warily, inching slowly closer to him. "Mate?" he said cautiously, but James didn't acknowledge him. He stared at the floor, feeling his jaw clenching involuntarily. Without thinking, and without speaking, James stormed out of his room, ignoring Sirius's shouts of "Where're you goin?" and "Wait!". As he made his way down the stairs into the sitting room, he could hear his parents' hushed voices in the kitchen.

"What are we going to do?" his mother was saying. "Richard, we have to tell them."

"Tell us what?" said James, strolling into the kitchen casually. He could feel his face burning with anger and resentment. He was growing sick of being kept in the dark. If they wouldn't talk to him on their own, he would have to confront them directly. As he walked into the kitchen his parents stood up to face him. Dumbeldore, it appeared, had already left.

"Son, we told you to wait upstairs," boomed his father, pointing towards the door. James ignored him, and instead faced his mother.

"What do you have to tell us?" said James, placing stress on each syllable. His voice was louder than his father's, and his mother looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. She looked scared.

"Don't you dare talk to your mother that way!" yelled his father. "You have something to say? say it to me!"

"Gladly," said James, spinning around to face his father. They were exactly the same height, and when James turned he found himself eye-to-eye with him. James often forgot how much older his father was, but at this proximity it was hard to miss it. His father's face was leathered and worn, and every new expression revealed a different crease. They were generations apart. James hated it.

"How could you not join!?" yelled James. "Dumbledore strolls in with an open invitation to make a bloody difference, and you say no? What the hell is wrong with you!"

"That's what you're upset about?!" yelled his father. "You're mad that I didn't run off and get myself killed?"

"People are dying every day! The least you could do is stop being a bloody coward and do something about it!"

"COWARD?! Do you listen to yourself? You wreckless...you ungrateful-"

"I'm ungrateful because I want to help?!"

"There's more to this decision than wanting to help people, James!"

"IF YOU WON'T JOIN, I WILL!"

James yelled so loudly that his words reverberated around the room. He appeared to have stunned his father into silence. His mother, he realized, was crying. The sound made a knot in his chest. He was too angry to look at her though. He just stared, fuming, at his father. His father's face had lost all color.

"James, please, listen to me.."

But James didn't want to hear it. Before his father could say anything more, he turned on his heel and stormed out of his house.

James rarely fought with his parents, and on the few occassions he had, it had never been this serious. He had never shouted at his father before, and now that he was out of the house, he regretted losing his temper.

Since he could think of nowhere else to go, he decided to apparate to Diagon Alley. His concentration wasn't at it's best, so he appeared in front of the Apothecary, nowhere close to where he had planned to go. Diagon Alley was surprisingly deserted for a summer weekend. The people who were on the street kept their heads down and their hoods drawn. James figured everyone was on edge these days.

Wandering aimlessly for a few minutes, James eventually decided to slip into Forlean's just for a chance to sit down and think. The shop was slightly busier than the street had been, but James spotted an empty table near one of the windows. He sat down as his mind began racing.

Had he meant what he told his father? Did he really want to join the Order? Something in the back of James's mind told him that it wasn't a matter of "wanting to". Everything in his gut told him he had to do it. His mind and body were compelling him to do it. Maybe his father couldn't see it, but to James it was clear as day. And wasn't it better to do while he was still young, before he was tied down with a family? He supposed he understood his fathers' decision, now that he thought of it. His father had his mother to think of. But James? He was alone.

As he stared without blinking ahead of himself, he realized what he had to do. Standing up abruptly, James sprinted out of Forlean Fortescue's and down the cobblestone street toward Eyelops. When he made it inside he made a beeline for the counter, where a young witch not much older than him stood writing on a piece of parchment.

"Excuse me," said James breathlessly. "Can I borrow that quill and a piece of parchment? "

The young woman looked up at him, furrowing her brow. "I suppose," she said, somewhat begrudgingly. She held out the quill for him and he snatched it up hastily. When she handed him the parchment, she did so with a scathing look, which he ignored. Then he wrote:

Professor Dumbledore,

I'm sorry that my dad rejected your offer to join the Order of the Phoenix. He may have other obligations, but I don't. I know what the Order is and what it does to fight You-Know-Who. You may think of me as just another student, but Sir, I want to fight. I'm the top of my year at Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I may not have the Ministry connections my father has, but I know for a fact that there's magic I can do that he wouldn't dare to try. I'm already of age, and an extra year at school won't teach me anything that being out in the real world wouldn't. Practical application, right? Sir, you have to know that I would never make this decision lightly. This is more than a whim. My gut tells me I need to help. The Prophet keeps reporting death after death, and I can't just sit idely by while innocent people are being murdered. Please give me the chance to prove myself. Let me help.

I promise I won't disappoint you.

James Potter