A/N: Slight repetiton of lines is intentional.

Chapter Three

Thoughts Tonight

I rub my eyes and blink a few times before resuming my checking of the first year's papers. The fact that they are atrocious and require extensive corrections is not helping the headache I have developed. I have just gotten back from a rather exhausting mission for the Order, and would like nothing better than to collapse into my bed and sleep all day. Unfortunately, my other duties as Transfiguration Professor, Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress, did not allow me such leisure.

My duties as a member of the Order of Phoenix, however, have increased a great deal as of late. And have been far more time consuming than my other duties. Ever since the Death Eaters—as they have been so aptly called-have begun to attack Order members, as well as other supporters, instead of only muggles and muggleborns, the Order's become busier than ever--and being shorthanded has only made matters worse.

A number of Order members (and other less active supporters) have either been injured to the point of having to be sent to St. Mudungo's, missing (I can only hope with every fiber of my being that they will be found soon), or been murdered.

And at that thought I take a moment to compose myself. Some of our fellow Order members, supporters, and good friends have been murdered in cold blood. As if murdering innocent muggles and fellow witches and wizards weren't enough before. The whole "purifying the wizard blood" was little more than a twisted excuse to slaughter countless innocent lives. I shake my head sadly as I remember some of the more recent deaths.

Gideon and Fabian Prewett were murdered just a few days ago. They were two wonderful wizards and friends. They had a great sense of humor and were a bit like the pranksters of our little group. They were something like the light of the Order and when they left, it was like a large looming cloud of darkness had descended upon us. No longer were they there with their constant jokes and mischief; no longer were they there to inject friendly humor into our constantly darkening conversations. They were no longer with us, would never be with us again. The house of cards had come crashing down on us.

The war was real. They were dead.

And we still had to fight.

Their death's, more so than anyone else's, I dare say, lowered our group morale considerably. Now we no longer had their constant presence of light and warmth over us. A dark cloud had come over us. The brutal realization of war had hit, with the force of a tidal wave. We could no longer joke lightheartedly; no longer have peaceful conversations around dinner table.

We could only fight, fight and hope that the war would finally end.

There were other consequences as well, though not as bad as the grief we all suffered but consequences that could change the outcome of the war we so desperately wanted to win. There were many great losses in the Order and its supporters. And to say we were not affected would be a great lie. While the other side had losses as well, it simply wasn't enough. They already had more people on their side in the first place; most people were just too scared to defy the evil man and his minions.

Now, part time members of the Order—like me-had to work twice as hard to compensate. It would not be the first time I have thought there not to be enough hours in a day. I've been given over twice as many missions as before, and now play a vital role in the war. I almost laugh when I think only a few weeks ago I thought I was going on enough missions. And I laugh even harder, at the irony of it all, when I think that only a week or so ago I had managed to delude myself into thinking a war was not happening outside the castle walls.

Now, I neither have the opportunity-as I my missions and other duties have kept me so busy I rarely have time to think—nor the ability—as the things I see on the missions I've been doing are simply far too hard to erase--to be able to think that anymore. I almost wish I could delude myself into thinking the war was not real again. It would certainly boost my morale by quite a bit. But I know that it is foolishness to wish such a thing.

A foolish coward's way out--and I'd like to think I am no coward. I am a Gryffindor, after all.

The war is real. And denying it will help nobody.

A/N: Quite different from the previous chapters as nothing actually happens here. These are just thoughts (as the title suggests) that she has concerning the events as of late (like the deaths of her colleagues/friends). I promise there will be more action in the next chapter and it will be a direct continuation of this (it happens the same night). Also, I made Gideon and Prewett a lot like Fred and George, and since there is no actual canon available to cantradict it and the the fact that they are related; i hope they are relatively IC and canon-like.