This is only my second fanfic ever so please, please, please review!!
This story is about the Marauders' and Lily's thoughts when they receive their invitations to join the Order of the Phoenix. It's told from the POV's of James, Lily, Peter, Remus and Sirius in that order but I think it's easy to know who's talking in which part.
Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter even though I wish I did
*******
It happened sometime in the middle of the last year at Hogwarts.
Owl post had never been special for me. Letters from home, a few gifts…when you're a pampered only child in the Potter household, which happens to be one of the oldest, richest pureblood families, life is sweet.
Until that day.
A brown barn owl had carried a black letter with my name on it. Inside had been a short printed letter informing me of the unfortunate demise of my parents and expressing the Ministry's regret over losing two prodigious aurors. Seriously, the Ministry has no idea of sensitivity.
I had been devastated, broken. I got scared of the post. I lost interest in pranking people, tormenting Snivellus became a bore, disrupting classes became pointless and chasing after Lily Evans seemed childish.
Lily Evans.
The most amazing girl in the world.
She finally began to care for me. She found out about my loss and with the Marauders, she showed me that life was still worth living. There were still reasons for me to live. Slowly I returned to being my original self. Pranks were played in full zest again; my life started going back to normal. There were only two changes: Lily was now my girlfriend and I would miss my parents every minute of every day.
When I read the letter that a brown barn owl dropped in my lap today, I thought my answer would be obvious.
It was not.
I took in each line carefully. It was an invitation to join the Order of the Phoenix, a secret society formed by Dumbledore to oppose Voldemort. I thought immediately that they were fools to even be asking me. Of course I'd join! But then I thought about why I was so eager to join. I wanted revenge, not only on the Death Eaters, but also on my parents for having deserted me. Then I thought about Lily, Sirius, Remus and Peter. If I died fighting, would they want revenge on me too? And who would protect Lily from those lunatic purebloods or Sirius from his nutcase family or Remus from every git who'd seen too many biased werewolf movies or Peter from pretty much the entire world?
That's when it hit me. Protection. My parents died to protect their loved ones. I was ready to do that too. I wasn't fighting for revenge but because I loved so many people whom I wanted to protect.
Now I was eager to send back my answer to Dumbledore.
I'm ready.
A brown barn owl dropped a letter in front of me. Beside me, James was poring over a letter too, frowning. I opened my letter and dropped my spoon. I started frowning too. An invitation to join Dumbledore's secret organization, the Order of the Phoenix? But we're just seventeen. True, we are of age but we have no experience at all in the real world, apart from the few scuffles we've had with those Slytherin Death Eater wannabes. I was so engrossed in reading the letter that I didn't realize I'd lifted my spoon again just as the owl was dipping his beak into my cornflakes bowl. I hit the bird, he bit me, and I dropped my spoon cursing. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my bleeding finger.
Blood.
Sev – Snivellus – had told me that my being a muggle-born made no difference at Hogwarts. I should have seen the hesitation in his eyes right then. The first couple of years here, no one had really seemed to care who came from which family. Then, in third year, I heard a bunch of Slytherins shouting at a little first year buy, "Mudblood."
When my friends told me what it meant, I was disturbed. I realized that wizards have a hierarchy just like muggles. The purebloods were mainly high society. Most of them in school were amiable and didn't care about what blood their friends had as long it was red and generally like any other human being's. Some however, hated muggle-borns.
They hated me.
For seven years, I and the other muggle-borns were the subject of Slytherin jibes and taunts and we were whom they tried practicing their gruesome spells on.
When Snivellus called me a mudblood, I was enraged.
I promised myself that one day, I would help rid the world of this hierarchy. It was total crap. And now, I was holding the chance to eliminate the source of this stupid ideology – Lord Voldemort.
The stupid snake-face had equally stupid logic. If he killed all the "inferior" people, who's he going to be superior to? I wanted to fight. I wanted to show wizards that irrespective of birth, we're all still wizards. Heck, I'm the brightest witch in the year and my family is most definitely muggle.
Besides, I knew James would fight and someone sensible has to make sure he doesn't run into unnecessary trouble.
I wrote back to Dumbledore right there.
I'm ready.
I was trying to do some last minute learning for the test McGonagall had announced for first period when the book was covered by a letter with my name written on it in elegant, loopy handwriting, "Peter Pettigrew." I opened it and my eyes widened. It was an invitation to join Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix.
I was terrified.
I was bad at most classes, I was scrawny, everyone tried to pick on me, I was the one who needed the most help to become an animagus and even then my form was just a rat. In fact, the only reason I could walk through the corridors unharmed was because of James, Sirius and Remus.
I had the coolest friends on earth.
Everyday, they told me that there was a reason the Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor. I was brave; I just didn't know it myself. They told me to believe in myself. Some days, I believed them. Most days I didn't.
I had some talents. I did help with Remus every full moon. I did help with the pranks. My greatest skill was that I could do a lot from the background. I could listen to people talking and remember it. I could escape from even the tightest spots. Seven years of avoiding bullies had taught me a few tricks. But I needed protection. All the time.
Maybe now was my chance to prove everyone wrong. I wanted revenge on the Slytherins. I wanted to show them that I could stand on my own feet. I would be a spy. The best spy Dumbledore's ever had. After all, no one would suspect me. I was too weak. I couldn't fight in the foreground so I would settle for the sidelines. I would prove that I deserved to be in Gryffindor.
I looked down. Darn, I forgot about the Transfiguration test. I'd send my answer to Dumbledore later. But I knew one thing for sure.
I'm ready.
I looked up at the enchanted ceiling. A half-moon was just visible between the clouds. I sighed; it was getting closer to the full moon, closer to pain. Suddenly, my vision was obscured by a flurry of feathers as the morning post arrived. An owl dropped a letter next to me. When I opened it, I was surprised. I had no idea Dumbledore had a secret organization to resist Voldemort and I knew a lot. It was an invitation. That was how it had all started.
Fenrir Greyback had invited my father to join him and his band of aspiring Death Eaters when Voldemort was still rising to power. My father had turned him down and offended him. The werewolf was cruel. He not only ensured that my father would suffer but also sealed the fate of a five year old boy. Me.
Before I came to Hogwarts, I pitied him. I knew the pain and the urges that accompanied the transformation. Then, when I was ten years old, I learned I was wrong. Greyback deliberately bites, not out of the urge for flesh that overcomes every conscious thought but out of a desire to destroy. Most of the time, I wished he had simply killed me. It would have been so much better than the scared, disgusted glares I receive from people. He doomed a young innocent boy. The fact that I am at Hogwarts is itself a miracle.
When I first came to school, I tried to stay out of everyone's way. That's not easy when you're part of the Marauders. Then, my best friends found out what I was. I was afraid. I was sure they would desert me like everyone else.
I was wrong.
They knew me before they knew of my condition. They didn't even think about deserting me. They became animagi. They helped me. When Lily found out, she didn't even blink. She simply called Greyback, "an evil, pathetic, brainless git," and told me that it didn't matter whether I was a werewolf or not. I would still be Remus.
Now I had a chance. By joining Dumbledore, I could stop Greyback. I could prevent him from ruining other children's lives. I was second in the year. My ingenuity was the brains behind a lot of our pranks. I could take down Greyback. I could create a society where people would have no reason to fear werewolves. All I needed to do was write two words.
I'm ready.
Today had been a boring day. We went through the usual routine of waking James with cold water. At breakfast, I loaded up my plate as usual. Lily gave me a disgusted look and then got lost in James' eyes. James gave me an amused look and then got lost in Lily's eyes. Peter was cramming for the Transfiguration test. It probably wasn't going to help him much. Remus was gazing at the ceiling. He'd probably murder me if he knew I was wishing it were full moon. I needed some excitement.
And it came in the form of a letter. I'll admit I was surprised when I got it. Who would write to me? My mother? Ha! The last letter I had from her was a Howler announcing my official disownment from the family. I opened this letter and my jaw dropped.
Albus Dumbledore, was offering me, Sirius Black, a.k.a. the most irresponsible and current holder of the 'Maximum Detentions Award,' to join an organization to fight Voldemort. Wow, he must really need people. Not that I didn't want to join. I was raring to go. I looked around. Everyone seemed to be having flashbacks. I decided to have one too.
I was six years old when I started rebelling against my parents' ideologies. I had been taught that purebloods wore expensive, itchy, clothes and walked with their nose in the air, looking down on anyone who wasn't a pureblood. One day, my mother and I were in the Leaky Cauldron when a man in tattered clothes stumbled in. He'd been attacked because he was muggle-born. My mother edged away and so did I. Mere minutes later, a girl nearly collapsed through the doors. She seemed to be wearing rich clothes but they were torn and she was cut in several places. I never did find out how she came to be in that state. She told the inn –keeper that she had no money but she could pay him later. I couldn't really blame him for not believing her. She seemed to be a bit of a tired, beaten up pureblood, but my mother didn't move to help her. Nobody did.
Except the man.
The muggle-born man who had just come in and looked like he could use every Knut he found stood up, bought her a drink and arranged a room for her with what little money he had. But what struck me was they were bleeding the same kind of blood. He didn't care what sort of parentage she had, he'd just helped her knowing well that he couldn't afford to. Unlike the stuck-up rich purebloods.
That was the day I realized that purebloods don't care about blood as much as they do about money. They don't help the needy. They help the rich and influential people. They're jerks. I didn't want to be like them. If helping the deserving made be a blood traitor, then, heck, I was proud to be one. People think that I'm a fun-loving person. But when something really stirs me, I'm really very serious (excuse the pun!)
I wanted to help those who deserved it.
Dumbledore was asking me to help him destroy the root of all these crazy ideas about heritage. My friends were looking determined. They'd made up their minds. If they would fight, so would I.
I'm ready.
*******
Hope you liked it!! Please, please review.