A/N: Hello, dear readers! I'm so sorry about the month-long hiatus…I hit a sticking point with this story! There were about four directions this chapter could have taken, and I finally decided on this one. Thanks so much for your patience, and I really hope you enjoy how the chapter came out! It's a little shorter than usual, but I wanted to end it where I did.

Chapter 10: The Order of the Phoenix, Part 1

Nine o'clock comes quickly, and before I know it, I'm standing next to James in the Potter's ballroom, anxiously awaiting the arrivals for the gala.

"You look beautiful," James whispers in my ear, and I flinch a little, unprepared for the brush of his lips against my ear. I blush and look up at him; he's smiling. So am I.

The squeaky, high-pitched voice of a House-Elf interrupts are little moment, and blushing, I look at my toes. I can hear James snicker a little at my reaction and I resist all urge to kick him.

"Presenting: Monsieur, Madame, and Monsieur Rosier!" The first family has arrived. The Potters' briefed me on the gala procedure: The family's House Elf announces their entrance, and then we must greet everyone as they enter the hall. I feel James stiffen next to me, and I know why: Evan Rosier is a year above us at Hogwarts, a Slytherin, and with his dark hair, thin body, and hooked nose, he is one of the most frightening people I have ever met. He's one of Severus' friends, one of the ones in line to become Death Eaters—I had to report him to Dumbledore last year for attacking a First-Year Hufflepuff. However, I hold my composure as he and James share a tense handshake, and he moves on to me. When he bows and brushes my hand with his lips, it's all I can do not to pull away in disgust.

"Presenting: Sir and Madame Bartholomew Prewett, and Young Masters Prewett!"

The next family is one that is much more familiar. The Prewett kids were Gryffindors, like us. Fabian was Head Boy three years ago, Gideon was Quidditch captain last year, and Molly is a Prefect, like me. The Potters greet them like old friends, and James greets the three children with unnecessary bravado:

"Fabian, my boy! Gideon, good sir! It is splendid to see you again, truly splendid. I must say, you look simply dashing this even—" Mr. Potter clears his throat and James stops, extending his hand to shake, but all the Prewetts are stifling laughter.

By the end of an hour, I can see why James dislikes these galas so much. I am exhausted from wringing the hands of every Pureblood who walks in the door. When finally the last family, the Malfoys, who arrive "fashionably late," have been greeted, I am ready to drop dead.

"Holding up okay?" James asks me, the twisted smile he had plastered onto his face dropping.

"Glad that's over," I reply. "You weren't kidding…this isn't fun."

"Well, the worst is over…so long as you can avoid the nasty ones the rest of the night. Let's get some Butterbeers, shall we?"

The orchestra has began to play, but most everyone is still mingling rather than dancing. James takes me over to the refreshment table, and hands me a Butterbeer.

"So, what do we do now?" I ask James, sipping my drink.

"Now, we do our best to avoid all these Ministry goons and Pureblood supremacists and try to have an enjoyable evening."

We smile at each other and stand somewhat awkwardly. I find it a bit weird—I have had my fair share of awkward moments with James, but lately they have been few and far between. We have slipped into this easy, fun friendship, but in this moment, I feel something shift. He's looking at me, and there's a certain longing in his eyes that I recognize from years off scoffing at it. I can feel a burning behind my eyes too, and a clawing need in my stomach, and for the first time, I feel a wave of…of…of something wash over me, and it feels good. It feels like the flood gates have opened and I am now free-falling into my stupid little crush on James.

I thought this would be scary. I thought it would make me want to turn and run, but instead, I feel a rush of adrenaline—the same one I have felt for years when we rowed, or when I stole that book, or that day we practiced dueling—and I act on my instinct. I grab his hand, flash him my most winning smile, and say,

"C'mon, let's dance."

He looks surprised at this reversal of roles—usually it's James who is trying to get me to do daring things (if you can call initiating a dance "daring")—but grins all the same and puts down his drink.

"What has gotten into you?" he asks, laughing as he spins me onto the dance floor.

"I suppose it's the butterbeer," I tell him.

We are the center of attention for a few moments, but soon enough, other couples follow suit and dance as well. James is a terribly awkward dancer, but, like everything else he does, it's endearing. His hand rests, tense, between my shoulder blades and his steps are choppy and extremely ungraceful, but his smile is as easy as ever.

"I don't know if you're aware, but you're not actually supposed to step on my feet," I tell James, wincing as, for the third time, he trods on my toes. James spins me out and then twirls me back into him, so I'm pressed against his chest, face level with his shoulders.

"I can't help it if you make me nervous," he says quietly, before spinning me back out to a respectable distance. The song ends there, and blushing furiously, I clap along with the rest of the crowd. I sneak a glance at James, and I catch him looking at me, but instead of turning away, we let our eyes meet. I'm not blushing anymore; I realize I'm not embarrassed by my feelings for him anymore, and I'm unafraid. I have allowed myself to feel what I have been repressing for so long, and though it's only been five minutes, these last five minutes have been so magical that I can't seem to remember why—

"Melina, may I have the next dance?"

Frank Longbottom jerks James and I from our moment, but I have no idea what he just said.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, will you dance with me?" asks Frank.

I glance at James, who is suddenly very interested in the punch table. "I'm going to get more drinks. See you guys later."

Left alone with Frank, I have no choice but to take his hand and let him lead me back onto the dance floor. Frank is a much better dancer than James, leading me and taking care not to step on me, but I still prefer dancing with James.

"Are you enjoying your holidays?" I ask, trying to strike up a conversation.

"Oh yes, it's been great," says Frank. "My family went down to Italy for a few weeks, and I've spent the rest of it with Alice."

"Alice! How is she?" I ask, a little too eagerly.

"She's doing well. I wasn't aware you two were close."

"We aren't," I say hastily. "I was just…wondering how she was, you know."

Frank tells me more about Italy, and more interestingly, about Alice. The more I hear about her, the more it pains me that I can't speak to her. And even though I'm at a ball in a beautiful dress and dancing with a nice boy, I can't help but slip back into my old cycle of thoughts: what if I'm stuck as Melina forever? I'll have lost my old friends, my old family…my entire life. The reality of never being able to be Lily Evans again is devastating, and—

"Melina? Are you alright?"

I realize the song is over, and I'm still standing in the same position. Embarrassed, I nod, and a second later, James is at my side.

"Mum needs you," he says, adding coldly: "See you later, Frank." James steers me away.

"What does your mum need?" I ask.

"Nothing," James says sheepishly.

"I can't believe you!" I say, not sure if I'm angry. "You just didn't want me dancing with him!"

"Well—"

"He has a girlfriend, you great prat," I say, laughing, and he looks intensely relieved that I'm not biting his head off.

"He also has eyes, and everyone can see you're the prettiest girl here," James tells me and I'm very aware that he is charming me.

"Don't let people overhear you calling your sister that," I remind him with a smirk. "They might get ideas."

Before James can assert his counterpoint, an old, portly wizard in a top hat meanders over to where we are standing.

"James, m'boy!" he exclaims, wringing James' hand vigorously.

"H-hello, Mr. Dingwall," he replies, taken by surprise and forcing a smile.

"How have you been?" Mr. Dingwall booms, and before James can reply, Mr. Dingwall is speaking again. "Your father speaks highly of you. How did those O.W.L.s turn out?"

While James rattles off his admittedly impressive O.W.L. scores, I try to slip away, preferring not to be the third wheel to this conversation, but Mr. Dingwall notices my movement and his attention is directed towards me.

"And you must be Miss Melina!" he says loudly, and I nod. He bows and kisses my hand—James catches my eye and doubles over laughing. I take my hand away as soon as Mr. Dingwall has finished greeting me and subtly wipe it off on my robes. "Are you approaching your sixth year as well?"

"Yes," I say. "James and I are twins."

"Of course, of course! Tell me, what are you two up to next summer?"

I look at James, who looks as bewildered as I feel, and he replies, "Um, not sure at the moment."

"Well, if you're interested, I know a few people in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes who would be interested in having the Potter's kids as interns next summer."

I don't know how to respond to this; an internship at the Ministry of Magic as a sixth year? This is unheard of! But James says, "Thank you for the offer. Will you excuse us?"

And he steers me off in the other direction.

"James! Why didn't you accept?" I demand. "An internship? That's a big deal!"

"Lily—"

"Sh!"

"—how naïve are you?" James presses on, ignoring my protest at the use of my name. "Don't you know what they are doing?"

"Offering us an internship, perhaps?"

"They're only—" James seems to realize how loudly he is speaking, as he is attracting the attention of at least four other people, so he pulls me over to the bar and tells me in a low voice, "They're only offering it because we are purebloods. Or at least, they think you are. That man we just spoke to? Mr. Dingwall? He is part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and a few years ago he tried to force through a bill allowing the Ministry to test the blood status off all its employees."

I stand there, dumbstruck, as James continues to explain.

"He's not the only one. Most of the Ministry goons here are going to try and recruit us, because they want as many purebloods in the Ministry as possible."

"How do you know?"

"I've just told you! You heard him: we would be happy to have Potters in the Ministry. Did he ask us for a resume? Or if we were interested at all in a career with Magical Accidents and Catastrophes? He didn't even ask for your O.W.L. scores. And those internships? Those are for wizards who have graduated and applied. Doesn't that sound a bit fishy to you?"

He's right, of course, and I feel stupid for not seeing it.

"You're more clever than I give you credit for," I tell him.

"That's okay. I give myself enough credit for the both of us," he says, flashing his most dazzling smile. I roll my eyes—this has got to be one of the most true things James has ever said. As I look at him, I realize that the moment has passed, and yet, I don't look away. James' smile widens. "Do you want to—"

"James!"

It's Gideon and Fabian Prewett, holding bottles of firewhisky. At first, I notice James' face fall, but he hitches his gleaming smile back as Gideon claps James on the back. "How've you been, mate?"

"Not bad, not bad," James says, shaking hands again with Fabian and then with Gideon. "Done with O., so I don't have to worry about school for another…two years or so." I scoff under my breath, and Gideon looks up at me for the first time.

"That's the spirit," Fabian tells James, which surprises me slightly, considering his previous Head Boy position.

"Care to introduce us to your lady friend?" Gideon says to James, gesturing towards me with his firewhisky.

"Oh! Uh, this is Melina," James says, patting my shoulder awkwardly, and I see identical waves of understanding pass over Gideon and Fabian's faces. "My sister."

"Your…sister," Gideon repeats, his eyes darting from my face to my hair and hands, making me feel extremely self conscious.

"Yes, my sister, so stop looking at her like she's a piece of pie, because she's not for sale," snaps James.

"My apologies," says Gideon, but he steps closer to me.

"What are you—" I begin, but Gideon whispers in my ear,

"Brown hair suits you, Lily."

Startled, I take a step back, a look of horror on my face. James stares at Gideon and I, apparently wondering what he told me, but I don't tell him. Instead, I try to recompose my face into an expression of confusion.

"It's Melina, actually," I tell Gideon and Fabian, as smoothly as I can. "My name is Melina."

"Of course," Gideon says, winking. "My mistake."

The four of us stand in tense silence, James and I trying to decide what we make of this new development. I look to James for direction, as if to ask whether I should continue to insist that I am Melina, or recite the family tree as proof of my fake ancestry, or if the jig is up. When James does nothing, I try to laugh off the situation.

"Looks like you two have had a little too much to drink," I say airily, in what I hope is a convincing tone. However, before I can think of anything clever to change the subject, James has seized Gideon's forearm.

"C'mon," he growls. "You too."

Fabian and I follow James and Gideon out of the ballroom, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Despite our sneaky attitudes, I feel a pair of eyes on the back of my neck. Sure enough, when I took around the ballroom, out of the corner of my eye, I see a sinister-looking man and his sharp-featured date observing our exit, and I give him a small smile as if to tell him that he should not be suspicious. However, when our eyes meet, I feel a thrill of icy dread run through my body. I quickly look away and walk slightly faster.

"James," I whisper, but he brushed me off. James is walking so briskly that I have to lift the bottoms of my dress robes slightly in order to keep up. He leads us down the hallway and into the Potter's kitchen, where a House-Elf is washing some dishes.

"Get lost," James says to the House-Elf, who makes a hasty bow before scurrying off. Once James is certain she is out of earshot, he rounds on Gideon. "Why did you call her, 'Lily?'"

"Will you let go?" Gideon jerks his arm out of James' grip.

"Why did you call her that?" He is shouting now, and I want to tell him to keep his voice down, but he looks so intense that I'm afraid to intrude.

"Are you off your rocker?" Gideon asks James. "Relax, mate, we know you're hiding her."

"My name is Melina," I insist loudly, but to my displeasure, no one pays me any attention.

"James, calm down. Everyone in the Order knows where the Muggle-borns are hidden."

"The Order? Order of what?" James demands. Fabian and Gideon look at each other with expressions of disbelief.

"Is he being serious?" Gideon asks his brother, who shakes his head.

"I can't tell."
"He can't possibly be serious—his father practically runs the damn thing—"

"What does my father run?" James asks, raising his voice slightly again and making everyone in the room flinch. In a much quieter voice, Fabian says,

"You mean you really don't know?"

"Okay, listen, you two," I snap quietly, though exasperated. "We have no idea what the bloody hell you're talking about and one of you is going to explain yourselves right now—" I jab my finger at each of their chests in turn to emphasize my point, "—or I swear I will curse off your ears!"

"Okay, okay!" Gideon puts his hands up as if in surrender. "C'mon, let's go somewhere a bit more…private." Gideon looks around the room as if expecting to find someone eavesdropping. My eyes follow his, half-expecting to see the sinister man who watched us leave, and though there is no one in the room, James looks immediately concerned. Quickly, he leads us upstairs, past my room and his room and into the Observatory. As I hear the soft click of James closing the door behind us, I look at the glass wall in front of me, entranced by the beautiful night sky. It reminds me slightly of the ceiling of the Great Hall.

"So. Explain," says James. It's an order, not a request.

"Is this room soundproof?" asks Fabian, and James shakes his head, "no." Fabian mumbles a few spells, his wand aimed at the door. "We can't be overheard."

"Now, look," says Gideon, as his brother mutters protective enchantments. "The only reason we are telling you this is because of your dad, and you two are probably on the list to join once you come of age—"

"What list?" I ask.

"Join what?" James says at the same time, losing patience.

"Calm down, I'm about to tell you, aren't I?" Gideon tells us, annoyed. "Anyways, all of this is very top-secret, and I really can't believe that you don't know it already, so I'll tell you. But you have to understand that if you reveal this information, it could cause the death of other wizards. Do I have your word that you won't breathe a sentence of what I'm about to tell you?"

"Yes," says James, without hesitation, but I don't speak so quickly. Suddenly, I don't really want to know the answer.

"And Lily?" prompts Fabian. James looks at me, and I swallow before nodding as well.

"You have my word," I tell the brothers, feeling so uneasy that I forget to protest the use of my real name.

"Good. I trust that you will keep it," Gideon says, not a trace of joking on his face. He pauses before continuing. "Have either of you ever heard the name, 'The Order of the Phoenix?'"

"No," James and I say together.

"Well, it's for all intents and purposes, a resistance group, against Voldemort," Gideon explains. "Dumbledore himself founded it about three years ago."

"It was the same year I graduated from Hogwarts," Fabian adds. "Right as things were starting to get bad. One morning at breakfast, towards the end of the year, I received an owl at breakfast that I did not recognize. The note attached to his leg was only a few lines, and I still remember exactly what it said: 'I request your presence in my office at nine o'clock this evening. Share this with nobody. Dumbledore.' At first I thought it might be Head business, but I couldn't figure out what Head Boy duties I had that needed to be kept secret.

"So I went to Dumbledore's office that night. I didn't know the password, but the Gargoyle seemed to know I was coming, and jumped aside. I went upstairs, and to my surprise, I wasn't the only one in attendance. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, of course, but there were four other students there as well. Amelia Bones, my fellow Head Girl from Ravenclaw, Sturgis Podmore, from Hufflepuff, Caradoc Dearborn, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, and Dorcas Meadowes, an expert dueler and also a Gryffindor…"

"Good evening, everyone," said Dumbledore, and though he spoke warmly, his eyes had lost their familiar twinkle. "I daresay you have been wondering what I have called you here for."

We all nodded our heads as if synchronized.

"Please, take a seat." Dumbledore waved his wand, and five chairs materialized. We took our seats nervously, and without speaking. We were all confused as to why we were there; I gathered by the way she looked at me that Amelia, like myself, had assumed this was Head business. Dearborn, who was called to Dumbledore's office every other week for some broken rule or another looked relieved that he was not getting a detention, but perplexed as to what was going on. Sturgis looked nervous, his hands twitching in his lap and his foot tapping against the chair leg, while Dorcas looked at the floor.

"I assume you have heard the terrible news about the Muggle murders in Pembrookshire," Dumbledore continued. I had, of course—twelve Muggles had been killed in their sleep, for no reason. "The violence in our world has escalated to a point at which it can no longer be ignored. Lord Voldemort must be stopped."

Not one person in the room flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name, and I knew immediately why each of us had been selected.

"I have formed a resistance group," said Dumbledore, "of witches and wizards who want to end Voldemort's terrible regime. I hope each of you will consider joining upon your graduation."

Dumbledore paused, and everyone looked at each other in nervous excitement.

" It is a noble cause, and I am convinced that you are all up to the task. However, this should not be a thoughtless undertaking. You will have to carefully weigh the risks before accepting a position. As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, you will be on the front lines of battle. You may be asked to spy. You may be away from family and friends for extended periods of time. You will have to lie to the people you love to keep everyone safe. And there is a chance that you will die for this cause."

The room was hot and thick with tension. At the word, "die," several of us shifted uncomfortably. But Dumbledore continued on.

"This is not a decision to be taken lightly. However, I encourage you not to let fear of death stand in the way of the opportunity to stop Lord Voldemort and end his tyranny. You have one month to weigh this decision, but be warned: you must not discuss this with anyone. I have placed a taboo on the words, 'Order of the Phoenix.' If one of you chooses to speak them, I will know, and there will be consequences. If you chose not to participate, I will ask that you allow me to modify your memory so you don't accidentally betray the secret. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded.

"Excellent. Well, then off to bed with you," Dumbledore told us, as if dismissing us from a meal or a class, not a meeting of a secret resistance organization. Slightly awkwardly, we stood to leave. Dorcas, Caradoc, and I bade goodnight to Amelia and Sturgis, but did not speak all the way back to Gryffindor tower. It was only after we passed through the portrait hole to find the common room empty was any word spoken.

"Are you two going to join?" asked Caradoc. There was no need to specify what he was talking about.

"Yes," said Dorcas, with no hesitation. "Yes, I plan to join."

"As do I," Caradoc nodded. Dorcas turned to me.

"What about you, Fabian?"

"Yes," I told them. "Of course I will. Do you think the others will as well?"

"I don't see why they wouldn't," Dorcas replied, shrugging. "It's an honor, to fight. What choice do we have?"

"That is how the Order of the Phoenix was born," Fabian finishes. James and I have listened in rapt silence. "For the past three years, we have worked towards thwarting Voldemort in any way we can. When Gideon became of age, Dumbledore asked him to join as well. I believe Frank Longbottom has also been asked. Your parents play a big role in this," Fabian tells James. "Your father is often sent off on missions multiple times per month."

"You mean…all that time he's away from home, he's working for the Order, not the Ministry?" says James slowly.

"Yeah," Fabian replies.

"But he's an Auror!"

"Aurors are exactly what the Order needs," Gideon says. "He still works for the Ministry—he's a spy, actually."

"Wow." James face has darkened. He sits down on a chair near the glass wall, absorbing all the information.

"I want to fight. Now," I say, surprising even myself.

"You're too young!" Gideon tells me.

"What, and two years is going to make a difference?" I ask. "I want to go to Dumbledore and ask to join."

"You can't, you're in hiding!" Fabian exclaims. "Joining the fight will undo everything!"

"What use am I in hiding?" I tell Fabian defiantly. "I'm endangering everyone around me! I'm not helping anybody here. I'm making everything worse."

"When you're seventeen—"

"There is no difference between sixteen and seventeen. I want to fight."

There is silence. Gideon and Fabian seem to be unable to find the best response, and James is looking at me, his face composed in an expression I can't understand.

It is then that I hear the bump.

"What was that?" I say quietly and urgently. "Did you hear that?"

"It's probably just a rat," says Gideon, trying not to sound worried.

"We don't have rats," James says slowly.

"A House-Elf?"

Instinctively, all four of us move closer together.

"Homonem revelio," says Fabian, waving his wand. His face goes white.

"What?" I whisper. "Fabian, what is it?"

"There…there's someone in here."

A/N: There's Part 1 of the Potter Gala! Stay tuned for Part 2, which will be released in two weeks! I know a lot of you expected James and Lily to get together during this chapter, which is an idea I toyed with a bit, but…it's so cliché. I didn't want to use the ball as an excuse for them to start making out, ya know? Shout-outs to EmiliaGrace, sugarquills-and-lillies, Lilyandjamesfan, , tessa, IrishSkittle101, marinewife08, Akt5us, ilovepuffystickers, Bri, movinggirls, H o r i z o n s, Ulin, Oriel Subtle, pigckle8, Aspentree11, TheOneBehindItAll, isigirl, okok123, buddygirl1004, SpencerReidFan89, The Yams of Gondor, xLycheeRAiN, brieetard, Fangalitious, and TeenTypist for their incredibly motivating reviews I love you guys! Please let me know what you think about this one!