Chapter 7

The Marauders were not expelled, nor were they subject to a detention or any other form humiliating punishment. True, they had broken several rules, and true, they could be subject to serious head examination if anyone found out they had been frolicking with a werewolf, but James, Sirius, and Peter did not tell Dumbledore they were Animagi, and Dumbledore never alluded once during their explanation to the fact that he knew. After all, Dumbledore was not a stupid man by any means.

The main focus of Dumbledore's concern was the fact that Death Eaters had been lurking on his school grounds. He immediately put into action the placement of extra protection on the school and consulted the Order of Phoenix on the matter.

"You have done marvelously well," Dumbledore told James and Sirius and even Peter, who had plead his helplessness under the Imperious curse and had been forgiven. "You must be tired after the little adventure our ex-caretaker has afforded you, and so you are excused -- and I suggest you go directly to bed." He smiled at them, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles as if he knew already that they were planning to keep Peter up half the night demanding more explanations.

"And Sirius," Dumbledore called.

Sirius paused in the act of following James and Peter out of the door. The three of them looked back.

"I understand that even after Peter's explanation you must be, uh, barking mad at your friend, but do go easy on him."

The look of hot, flushed anger on Sirius's face was replaced by an incredulous awe, and he stammered a response as the three of them shuffled out of the door.

"He knows," Sirius muttered worriedly, "he knows I'm --"

"In need of a flea collar?" suggested James. "Yeah, well, Dumbledore knows everything, doesn't he? But how he can be so trusting --"

They both shot a dark look at Peter.

"L-look, guys, I already told you!" squeaked Peter, tripping over his own pudgy feet as he scurried to keep up with his rapidly walking friends. "It happened when we left the Shrieking Shack. This -- this fuzziness washed over my brain --"

Sirius gave his barklike laugh, "There's always a fuzziness washed over your brain!"

"-- and -- and a voice told me to lead you to the Forbidden Forest! Honestly!" Peter plunged on, ignoring Sirius and appealing to James.

"Oh, yeah?" James said in a low, deadly voice. "And where were you when Padfoot was hit with the Cruciatious cruse!" he shouted. "Where were you when I was knocked on the ground with a body bind and was about to be killed! Where were you --?"

"Now, now, Potter, you wouldn't want to wake the whole castle, now would you?"

The Marauders halted as another teenage boy stepped from the shadows. His pale face glowed in the gloom of the passage between two curtains of greasy, black hair. He stood with his arms folded, one hand on his wand, and an unpleasant smile on his thin lips.

James's lungs swelled with a surge of hatred. "What are you doing out after hours?" he asked roughly.

"You think because you're Dumbledore's favorite boy you can boss me around, Potter? Well, I've got friends in high places too and they're bigger than yours," Severus said smoothly, black eyes glittering in the gloom.

Sirius's hand whipped out his wand, "Get out of the way, Snivelus, or I'll blast you into a thousand pieces."

"Listen to you," sneered Snape, shaking his head. "Keep talking like that and people will think you're . . . a Death Eater . . ." His eyes lingered on Peter, who whimpered and shrank behind his friends. "Had a good time in the forest, Black? We could hear your whimpers as you were cursed black and blue up at the castle."

James raised his wand, "I'm Headboy, which means --"

"That's right, Potter! You're only a boy -- a silly, arrogant boy with a stick and a head so big it's a wonder you can get off the ground at those quidditch matches. After all, dating a mudblood should drag anyone down . . ."

Sirius and James yelled a curse at the same time and the passage exploded with red smoke. However, when the smoke cleared, Snape was gone. They stared in astonishment and whirled around when he began to speak behind them.

"How'd he do that?" Sirius demanded tensely. "No one can apparate inside of Hogwarts --"

"I didn't apparate, you dolt, open a book sometime," Snape rolled his eyes. "With that sort of aptitude you'll be lucky if you make it to your eighteenth birthday. Oh, what's the matter, Black? Were you planning a nice, long life or is it the fact that your tiny, little brain can't count?" He smirked at them, at their tense, angry faces, and at James's apparent struggle not to curse Snape black and blue after he had promised Lily so many times that he wouldn't.

"You'd be surprised at how many other students in the school can do what I just did . . ." he looked at Peter again and opened his mouth.

Both James and Sirius raised their wands simultaneously, but it was Peter, to their surprise, who shouted the curse that sent Snape crashing into the wall. James and Sirius stared at him.

"He was there . . ." Peter panted. "Severus -- I remember now! He was one of the Death Eaters! He knew about the Whomping Willow! He -- he waited outside and cursed me . . ."

They looked at Snape, who was slumped against the wall, blood trickling from his hairline, and remembered the time Sirius had tricked him into coming to the Shrieking Shack.

James gave a low whistle, "Alright, Wormtail!"

The end of the term feast was a sad affair for the Marauders, who dearly regretted leaving their beloved Hogwarts. Remus did not show up until almost the very end of the feast and whispered to his friends that he'd gotten lost in the Forbidden Forest and had only returned to the castle when Hagrid found him and carried him back. The graduating seventh-years were toasted by Dumbledore, who had an unmistakable smile for his Marauders that Snape noted with contempt.

"To the end of another year and the beginning of a new generation in the magical work force," Dumbledore had said, lifting his glass to the seventh-years. The hall followed suit and the plates were cleared as everyone, sleepy and sluggish from their heavy suppers, moved to get ready for the evening departure.

James felt that, in his grief and secret despair, leaving Dumbledore was like leaving a sort of father figure he would miss dearly once he and his friends had left Hogwarts for good. So that evening while everyone prepared for the yearly departure from Hogwarts, James made his way to the headmaster's office.

"Buttery BizzBees," he said to the stone gargoyle, which leapt aside and continued to stare with a frown at the opposite wall, revealing a revolving silver staircase.

James stepped onto the staircase and was carried smoothly to Dumbledore's office door. His fist was raised to knock when he heard voices on the other side and paused. He knew it was nosy to eavesdrop, that if he was caught it could only lead to an embarrassing conversation with the headmaster and whoever he was now speaking to, but the low voices and quick whispers were deliciously exciting to his curiosity.

". . . Order of the phoenix . . ." squeaked an old man's voice excitedly, "and we've already got at least fifteen signed on with us! Fifteen! How are we going to fight You--Know--Who with only fifteen willing to fight!"

A gasp of excitement caught in James's throat. They were talking about a secret group, a secret group that would fight Voldemort. How many times had he lain awake, furious, terrified into fierce anger by the tragedies he'd read in the paper every day? How many times had he longed to be able to protect his loved ones from Voldemort? To do something that would lend a hand in the fight?

"When good is the intent, it matters very little how many are willing to fight, Dedalus," Dumbledore was saying calmly. "And now, let us say no more. I fear a certain student I am very fond of is listening on the other side of the door and will not benefit from anything we say here."

James went rigid as the door opened. Dedalus nervously bowed him inside, stepped into Dumbledore's fire, and was gone with a whirl of his cloak. Dumbledore smiled at James, who hovered with much embarrassment in the doorway, and gestured for him to sit.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," began James uncertainly, "I didn't mean --"

Dumbledore smiled patiently, "I know, James. You just have a knack for hearing things that you shouldn't, and if I were a much sterner headmaster, as dear Professor McGonagall will insist on telling me, I would say you have a certain knack for trouble as well. But you are not in trouble -- please." He gestured to the chair again.

Relieved, James sat down.

"Headmaster, I know you've got a secret organization against Voldemort, and now that I'm of age, I'm willing to join."

James knew what Dumbledore would say. He was too young. Dumbledore did not want to see someone so very young become the next victim. But wasn't he already a victim? Wasn't he living in constant fear under Voldemort's cruel reign? Didn't he go to bed every night and beg everything good that Voldemort would spare his mother?

Dumbledore smiled as if he'd read the stubborn thoughts in James's mind, "Of course you may join. Though I must admit I would regret very deeply the loss of anyone so young. Without youth there is no tomorrow." He touched his long fingers together at the tips.

"But sometimes, don't things have to die to make room for new life?" James responded and he thought Dumbledore could not have looked more proud.

"Yes, James, they do."

James squirmed uncomfortably. If only his father was here to look at him that way!

"I want you to know," began Dumbledore, smiling kindly, "that even though today is the end of your Hogwarts education, it is not, however, the end of our friendship. I will do my best to spare an ear whenever you need to confide in me. Is that clear?"

James smiled and struggled to clear his throat. He didn't think he could speak. Of course, he would always confide in Dumbledore. His father would approve of it mightily, was probably nodding his thanks to Dumbledore even now.

James wanted to ask a question, but he wasn't sure if the level of their friendship would permit it. He took a deep breath and when he looked up, Dumbledore appeared to know what he would ask. The old wizard's eyes were shinning wetly.

"Oh, yes, the rumors are true. I had a son once, and he died quite young. I would not see the same happen to you."

They stared at each other, Dumbledore with serious affection and James in quiet astonishment.

Dumbledore leaned back in his high-back chair and appeared momentarily weary, "I will be in contact with you shortly concerning the Order, James, and I ask that you confide in only a select few about your decision to join. I imagine I do not have to tell you how very secret this organization must remain."

James nodded, still finding it difficult to talk, and taking Dumbledore's silence as his exit, he rose and went to the door.

"And, James?" Dumbledore called just before he left, as was his custom whenever their little talks were over. James looked back, shocked to see the worry lining the old man's face. He was looking straight at James and his mouth was a grim and earnest line, "Take care."

"Where have you been?" Sirius asked miserably once James had boarded the train. He was slouched in their compartment looking sulky and utterly dejected as he stared out of the window.

They had not even left and Sirius was already missing Hogwarts. James understood. Sirius did not want to have to return home, collect his stuff, and face his parents when he told them he was moving in with the Potters for a while. His mother would scoff and bid him gladly to leave and his father would firmly ignore him as he read the papers with hard eyes. His son was, after all, associating with "blood traitors." Hogwarts was, in a way, Sirius's home. It had been his home since he'd first arrived with James, who he had made friends with on the train.

"We thought you were with Lily, but she's been looking for you too," Remus said from behind an issue of the Daily Prophet. He was seated beside Sirius and Peter was eating chocolate across from them.

James sat down. "Neh, I was talking to Dumbledore . . . listen . . ." and he closed their compartment door and told his friends about the Order of the Phoenix. When he was done, everyone merely stared and Peter began to choke on a chocolate frog.

"Wish you'd put my name down," Sirius said. Leaning over, he slapped Peter on the back so hard the glob of chocolate flew from his mouth and smeared on the window pane in a dribbling blob. Sirius gave a bitter, barking laugh, "That would make my father's head spin, me fighting his Dark Creep."

"The Order of the Phoenix . . ." Remus said curiously. He had lowered his paper half a fraction.

"How about it, Moony?" Sirius said, grinning at his friend. "I'm signing up as soon I can. Just let my father try and stop me . . ."

"We can all sign up this summer when you come to Godric's Hollow," James told them. "We can tell Lily about it. She'll want to join at once."

"Anything for her hubby," joked Sirius, making kissy faces at an invisible Lily, and James threw a chocolate frog card at him.

"But, guys, don't you think we're too young?" squeaked Peter, who looked curiously agitated. He had failed. He was supposed to get his friends killed, not allow them to join the enemy's army.

"Too young?" scoffed Sirius. "To take action? To fight back?" He scowled at Peter, "Wormtail, just why you were in Gryffindor I'll never figure out. I mean, rats aren't very brave, are they?"

Peter accidentally swallowed a chocolate frog wrapper and said nothing.

James leaned forward and looked at his friends seriously. "Are you in or out?" he asked, brown eyes shifting from face to face. He offered his hand and it only hovered for an instant before Sirius placed his own on top of it.

They looked at Remus, who was staring at his friends' hands as if they were going to seal his doom.

"Well?" James asked quietly.

Remus sighed as if they were in school again and his friends were planning another scheme that he was reluctantly being dragged into. "Alright, alright," he said, slapping his hand on top of Sirius's.

They all looked at Peter, who was nibbling his chocolate and looking very sick and pale. He gulped as they stared and finally added his pudgy hand to the pile.

"Alright!" laughed Sirius. "Marauders forever!"

"Marauders forever!" chorused the others, grinning.

"I'd conjure a few butterbeers, but I didn't get a passing grade in conjuring this year," said Sirius.

Remus smirked, "It's not because you couldn't do it, it was because you were too busy staring at Anita."

"Oh . . . yeah . . ." and Sirius gazed off dreamily for a full minute before his friends pelted him with chocolate frog cards.

As they pulled out of Hogsmeade, mist fogged the train windows and rain lashed at their panes. For the first time, the Marauders took their train ride in silence.

Sirius was just too miserable to make himself the center of attention. They would be at the station in a few hours time and there would be Kreacher, waiting with a sour smile to take his bags. His own parents would not meet him at the station, and he preferred it that way. Yet even though he feigned indifference to their absolute refusal to love him, it hurt him very much, more than they knew.

It was not an unusual thing for Remus to be quiet on the train ride home, but the private misery he knew was new and quite evident every time he lowered his newspaper. Remus knew, had known for years, that once he left Hogwarts his life as a pauper would begin. Who would ever hire a werewolf? He knew his fate long before his friends ever realized, and the fact that there would be no more moonlighting, no more talking late into the night as they lay in bed, no more pranks and pajama parties, was more crushing to him than any of them could guess. At Hogwarts, he had made the Marauders into close and personal friends and knew he would find none like them in the world of ignorance and intolerance that awaited him.

Peter would be going home to his mother, and had no worries save for one: that his mother ever found out he was a Death Eater. He couldn't bear it, to break her heart with such a revelation. But Voldemort had promised to spare her if he joined, there was protection with Voldemort, there was security. Be on the Dark Lord's right hand and not in his path, was Wormtail's motto. But what would his master do to him when he discovered he had messed up again? James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily knew about the caretaker and yet they were still alive! He shuddered to think what would happen to him and was secretly relieved that he had not yet been branded with the Dark Mark.

If James refrained from attacking Snivelus, playing pranks, and altogether being the center of attention while Lily in the background shook her head, it was because he was too anxious about his mother. All year she had been failing badly. What if she were to die? What if she was dead already and he didn't know about it? He looked at his friends and was secretly grateful to them for promising to come see him this summer. Sirius's presence would cheer his mother greatly. She had always been fond of Sirius to the point of slight irritation from her husband whenever she pinched the young man's cheeks and told him he was getting more handsome every year. She loved to have Peter because he loved to eat and would eat anything she set before him. It was healthy, she said, that a boy have such an appetite and she would pat Peter's head. Remus was always, as a result of his "condition," very skinny, and James's mother loved to make a fuss over him.

James ached to know that his mother was well, yet deep down inside he knew with a secret pang in his chest that the end was near. He had dreaded this the better part of the year and had seriously considered dropping from school to come see his mother. But each time he had such thoughts, a letter from his mother would arrive as if the old woman had read his mind, begging him to remain in school, assuring him that she was fine.

"Rubbish," James had muttered, "She's not fine! She's practically blind! What do I need school for when she's dying?"

And Sirius would clap his shoulder to calm him.

Another four hours, five, and the train pulled to a stop. They were at the station. The rain had let up, and the sun was streaking through the rain dappled windows of the train.

"Sirius!" roared a teenage boy with raven black hair and a square handsome face. He was like a younger version of Sirius as he pushed through the chattering teenagers on the train. "Sirius! Kreacher is here! Sirius!"

Sirius's head poked from one of the compartment doors and his clothes and hair were oddly ruffled, "Wait a minute -- I'm -- I'm saying good-bye to someone!"

"You're snogging!" the boy yelled accusingly.

"Beat it, Regulus!"

"Dogbreath!"

"Twerp!"

The brothers stuck their tongues out at each other and Sirius's head disappeared into the compartment again.