Complete Summary: During the first war, an order member is called to live a double life & she realizes just how much she has to sacrifice to be able to fight the good fight. On one hand, she has to denounce everything she believes in. On the other, she tries to cope with the hostility & mistrust of her contact, Sirius Black, her only connection to the light.

Disclaimer: This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season

Moody to Harry in OotP:

"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..."

Reminisces 1: The Art of Losing

His memories were coming back to him, at the oddest moments, these things that he thought he had lost forever. He had spent his twelve years in Azkaban not thinking about them, since his mind at the time alternated between thoughts of his innocence and memories of his bitter childhood. Finally outside of the dementors' influence, they were returning to him in flashes that take him by surprise and leave him breathless with their vividness.

James looking ludicrous bedecked with tinsel since Lily had insisted that they decorate their first Christmas tree as a married couple without magic. Remus sitting a corner of Godric Hollow and sneaking magical ornaments on the tree behind Lily's back. He being less discreet about it and charming the glass balls to sing and twinkle in time, in front of Lily. She had given him a good scolding, then ruined it by laughing. And Peter...

Sirius stopped thinking.

That particular memory came the night he passed through Magnolia Crescent, triggered by the memory of seeing Harry for the first time. He had thought that once the good memories came back to him, he'd be all right. He didn't expect the good ones to be far worse than the bad ones. He was constantly blind sided by thoughts of what he had and lost...

He shook his head as if the physical act could eliminate from his head that particular memory and transfigured back into Padfoot, hoping to drown out all of these recollections with mindless action. He actually thought he was succeeding until he entered Privet Drive and saw a few laughing children, pulling pranks on each other.

It was a few days past the full moon, and the Marauders decided to cheer Remus up. He had come up with an insanely risky (it was upon retrospect) but highly entertaining (it made them laugh, years afterwards) prank. He had suggested casting a duplication spell on Peeves, which would create a shallow, fake copy of the poltergeist, retaining only one aspect of its personality. But in Peeves case, since he only had one side to his personality, the spell churned-out an annoying-prankster-Peeves. Each copy made would divide and create another copy after five seconds. And each copy would disappear after three minutes of its first appearance.

He and James had cast the spell first thing in the morning, and by the start of first period, there were over a hundred Peeves zooming down corridors throwing dungbombs or flying through blackboards into classrooms or even pulling up some of the older girl's robes.

Remus, being prefect then, tried- and failed miserably- to look stern when they explained to him that they did the prank as an investment into his happiness.

The memory came swiftly, quite unexpectedly and had left him hunched over in a darkened yard of one of the matching houses of Privet Drive, catching his breath and gnashing his teeth.He wondered if this was one of the things- his apparent unconcern for a lot of other people when he was younger- that had made Remus think he was a mass murderer.

They had glibly apologized and forgiven each other, that night in the Shrieking Shack, but it was painful still, for both of them. To realize that the machinations of a small, untalented coward had been enough to tear their friendship apart was, at times, even more painful than having thought the other as the traitor.

He wondered what Remus was doing now. He hasn't talked to him in awhile. Not since that time in the Shrieking Shack, almost two years ago and the occasional vague letter he could owl to him.

After being released from Azkaban and rescued by Harry and Hermione, Sirius had left England for a while, partly to save his neck but also to lure the search party there. He was hoping that would clear England of Aurors looking for him so that when he returned to the country, he could keep a closer and unencumbered watch on Harry.

However, after the incident in the maze and the death of the Diggory boy, Dumbledore had instructed him to get the old crowd then lay low at Lupin's. He had decided to start that task by going to Arabella Figg's house first. Arabella, being a squib, was one of the people whom he could talk to without fear of her hexing him first.

Once he recovered from the memory, he headed straight to Arabella's. Apparently, Sirius needn't worry at all about being hexed, since Dumbledore sent Fawkes ahead of him with a note explaining his predicament.Arabella had welcomed him right in and had told him to be comfortable. He tried to look for a place to sit that wasn't covered with cat hair, then stopped. It wasn't as if he was in the cleanest state himself.

Arabella had asked him for a first hand account of what happened with Pettigrew. Sirius had become so accustomed to the telling, that he recited it mechanically.

"Oh, you poor thing." Arabella said, plying his hands with tea, cauldron cakes and a leather bound book. "Why don't you take a look at this, and remember the good times."

The book turned out to be an album. He stared at photograph after photograph of happy wizards and witches waving up at him. Most of them were dead. He wondered what Arabella was thinking when she handed him this.

He saw a photograph with most of the members of the order. He poked a few of the people in the front, asking them to move around a bit, until the people at the back of the photograph showed themselves.

Then he saw himself. And her. All long black hair and hazel eyes and shy smile. Cassie.

Every sense was filled with her memory.

The sound of her laughter.
The feel of her hand clasped in his.
The scent of her perfume.
The taste of her lips.
The weight of words that were never said.

"The old order picture." Arabella said, interrupting his thoughts. She looked at the photograph over his shoulder then sat opposite him. "Moody has been asking me for that one."

He ran a finger down her photographic cheek, returned the picture in its place and went back to business.

After informing Arabella of the revival of the Order, she told him that she would talk to Mundungus herself. Being a wizard, Mundungus would be able to find a way to keep in touch with Sirius for Arabella.


AN:

This is my first fanfic and I'm pretty nervous. Whew, finally, that's out of the way. Ihave plans for this to be a multi chappie fic.

This chapter is set between GoF and OotP. In GoF, Dumbledore said, "Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher- the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there." (GoF, chapter 36: The Parting of the Ways, p 713, Scholastic Edition.)

The photograph that Sirius finds inside Arabella's album is the same one that Moody shows Harry in OotP (OotP, chapter 9: The Woes of Mrs. Weasley, p 173-174, Scholastic Edition.)

The title for the chapter is a line from Elizabeth Bishop's poem, One Art.

Reviews are highly appreciated. (Oh you can't believe how much!) Thanks!