Disclaimer: As always, I don't and never have or will own the people, places and situations of the Harry Potter universe. They belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, and AOL Time Warner. I am making $0 from this: I'm just having fun.
The Shakespeare reading from the Ravenclaw boys is from William Shakespeare's Macbeth, Act 3, Scene III, lines 1-2 and lines 24-26. I obtained the quotes from the Classic Library.
Author's Note: You are probably sick of my excuses for late chapters. Just allow me to say that starting year 11 was a shock in regard to the workload. And writer's block didn't help. As always, sincerest thanks to TQ, Elanor, and Memory for their help.
Dedicated to Calliope, for her marvellous conversation, beta reading, and support.
"Raven Sanderson, this had better be good!" Lily exclaimed as Raven dragged her down the stairs and into the common room. Arabella gave her a questioning look, then scurried off as she flapped her hand in dismissal. There was no-one else left in the common room; the last fifth years were hurrying off to class as Raven dropped Lily's arm. "Charms is in ten minutes!" Preoccupied with concern and sympathy for Sirius, she was not in the frame of mind to waste time listening to him.
"I'll be late too, Lily. Shut up and listen." She opened her mouth to protest at his tone, but saw his expression and decided against it. His face wore a combination of superficial irritation and deep determination and ... fear?
There was silence in the common room. The only audible sound was the muffled noise of the boys' attempts to comfort Sirius. Lily was about to say something uncharacteristically scathing when Raven let the words flow slowly.
"Do you remember," he began, before taking a breath and continuing, "when you were sitting in the common room muttering something about Slytherin's Heir?" Lily eyed him warily.
"Yes."
"Are you aware of the link between Slytherin's Heir and the prophecy the Divination professor made at the start of the year?"
Lily nodded. Raven's small trickle of words grew in volume and velocity until it became a raging torrent, a veritable inundation of speech. Lily listened in growing weak-kneed horror as he told, finally, the story of the dreams that had haunted him since the beginning of the year. She had her hand over her mouth and was staring at him by the time he finally stemmed the vocal flow and his explanation shrank back to a trickle, then stopped altogether.
"Mrs Black's just the first death?" she asked in a choked voice as he stopped. She felt faint and her knees trembled. Raven met her frightened gaze with his now stern one.
"What have you two been doing?" he asked. In her stunned terror, she gave no answer. "Lily!" His voice was sharp, his concern for his sister showing in his tone. "What do you know?"
"You didn't tell me you were a Divinator," Lily replied in an accusing tone.
"You didn't ask. Stop avoiding the question."
"You stop treating me like you're a high and mighty professor!" Lily snapped. He glared at her.
"Lily, this is serious," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and staring her in the eye. "Shut up and answer me." His tone spoke volumes: unpleasant volumes of deep, murky fear.
"Nothing. We ... we said we weren't going to do anything else, so it doesn't matter." She gave a firm nod, but she really knew she was trying to convince herself, not Raven. For how could she and Anita ignore this? They had started meddling in something much bigger than either of them had ever realised.
"But will you hold yourselves to that?" Raven said in a flat, almost expressionless voice, removing his hands and looking away for a moment. Lily gaped at him.
"Why wouldn't we?"
He gave a bitter laugh. "Anita's my twin. I know her too well to believe she'll leave this alone. Maybe she'll be scared, but she has a sense of duty."
Lily could find no reply to this. She honestly didn't know what her friend would do when she heard this news. It could be that it would just frighten the girl even more, adding to fears already compounded by the discovery that she was one of the Four. Or maybe Raven was right, and it would make her determined to decipher the prophecy. Lily wondered if she dared to mention his part in the affair to Raven.
At the expression on his face, she decided she didn't. And she didn't have to listen to him lecture her. What did he know about the stupid thing anyway?
"We'll be careful." Gathering her nerve, she turned and walked out of the portrait hole. She knew the risks that the prophecy entailed. How could she not? She had seen everything that had happened since Trelawney's prediction. She may not have seen the connection, but now she knew Sirius's mother's death was linked to this somehow. And the deaths would continue ... on, on, and on ....
The Marauders spent the rest of that excruciating, painful day in a terrible sadness, huddled together on Remus's bed. They had drawn the curtains so Raven and Paddy would not disturb them upon entering the dormitory, and now sat together through the dragging hours. They hardly spoke, nor did they care about their missed classes.
Sirius sat at the head of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Occasionally he would roll onto his side, bury his face in Remus's pillow and almost howl in grief. For the most part, however, he had stopped crying, although the awkward nature of the silence he sat in was perhaps worse than the wildest storm of tears or waves of racking sobs; he just sat, a lost expression on his face, his lip almost trembling, barely containing his grief.
James sat next to Sirius, at times reaching out to squeeze his hand or wrap an arm around his shoulders. Peter lay across the foot of the bed, picking at the covers, while Remus had flopped across the middle of it, and was watching Sirius and James with wide, uncertain eyes, not sure quite where his place was. Did he, after so long totally ignoring his friends, now have the right to offer Sirius comfort? Was he even wanted in the room? Thoughts like these raced through his mind as he sat in timid silence, so at dinnertime, still uncomfortable, yet eager to help, he offered to fetch some food for his friends. None of them spoke, so he slipped alone and in silence down to the Great Hall.
Before he even had a chance to sit, McGonagall, Bastion, and Orion Black, who moved slowly, heavily even, converged upon him.
"Mr Lupin, where is Mr Black?" McGonagall asked. Remus stopped with one hand on the back of the chair he had been about to pull out, suddenly timid in the presence of Sirius' father.
"Remus," Bastion said, leaning down to speak to him. "Is 'e in Gryffindor Tower?"
It was as much the lost expression on Orion Black's face as Bastion's gentle manner that prompted Remus out of his shyness. He nodded. "He's in the dormitory," he said, his voice barely audible over the dinnertime buzz of the Great Hall.
"Is he all right?" Mr Black asked, his voice choking on the last word.
Remus shrugged. Under the questioning gaze of McGonagall, he felt prompted to elaborate. Swallowing his timidity, he spoke. "He's upset, of course," he murmured. "But he's not crying as much anymore." Mr Black nodded, but he was plainly spiritless. His mind was clearly somewhere else, probably walking once more in fond memories he could never again tread in life, memories of long happy hours he could no longer spend with his young, vibrant wife.
Finally, he spoke.
"Minerva, may I take him home?" he asked, his voice low and expressionless.
"Of course," McGonagall said. "Mr Lupin," she added, turning to Remus, who started. "Thank you for your assistance."
Taking this as a longed-for dismissal, Remus scurried away further along the table. Remembering his original mission, he slid into a seat and began collecting food, shooting guilty looks around the table.
"Remus!"
He jumped and turned, ready to frantically defend getting food for his friends, then realised it wasn't an irate teacher or even his overprotective cousin, but rather Arabella and Lily, who looked wild with concern. The girls had been sitting down the table from Remus, and had leapt to their feet and were already hurrying towards him. They arrived in a flurry of worried questioning. There were a few moments of noise in which Remus couldn't understand the girls and they couldn't hear his protests because all three of them were talking at once, until Lily finally managed to make their question heard.
"Is Sirius all right?" The two girls wore identical expressions of anxiety. Remus shook his head.
"No. He's still really ..." His voice trailed off, and, shaking his head, he halfheartedly grabbed some food. Understanding what he was doing, Lily and Arabella began snatching some too. Appreciative of their help, he let them trail after him as he returned to Gryffindor Tower.
He gave the password and sneaked up the boys' staircase, anxious of being caught with food hidden in his pockets. He rapped quietly on the dormitory door, which, to his surprise, was opened promptly - by Professor McGonagall. She stepped aside to let Remus enter. The girls remained outside, lurking uncertainly by the door.
Sirius was standing by the window with his father. Mr Black had a hand on the boy's shoulder and was speaking in a low voice. His son was nodding to him, occasionally wiping his reddened eyes with a robe sleeve. McGonagall turned to them.
"Orion," she said in a voice far gentler than her wont. "Come down to the Great Hall. Sirius." He looked up at her, dejected. She gave him a fond smile tinged with sadness. "Come down when you are ready."
She put a hand on Mr Black's arm. "Orion." He gave a vague nod then turned and slowly left, weighed down by the almost tangible cloud of his grief.
The boys sat in silence, nibbling halfheartedly at the food Remus had fetched as Sirius, through his daze of grief, grabbed the few things he wanted to take. Occasionally, his friends would pass him something they thought necessary; he seemed so distracted by his sorrow he was certain to forget something vital.
He reached absently for his guitar, gazing with vacant eyes at a spot on the wall. As his fingers brushed the fretboard he recoiled. He paused for a moment, staring at the instrument with an expression like a lost puppy's, then blinked wildly. He crumpled, his face collapsing first, followed by the rest of him in a terrible wave of grief. He fell to the floor, body racked by wild tears.
James let out a sharp exclamation. "She gave it to him!" He dropped to Sirius's side with Peter bare moments behind him. Remus stood, torn by the sight of the perpetually cheery, joking Sirius reduced to a mess of tears. He felt beyond his ability and place to comfort his friend, yet standing by and watching was too terrible to contemplate. He gazed around, desperate for something to do, and his eyes fell on Sirius's half-packed belongings. He finished gathering his friend's possessions from around the room and left then in a neat pile by the trunk.
By this time, Sirius was sitting up. His storm of tears had cleared and was reduced to a fine drizzle, sniffling replacing wild sobs. James was kneeling next to him, speaking softly, while Peter had a supportive arm around his shoulder.
Eventually, he stood. He nodded and even managed a tiny forced smile when he saw the pile Remus had made. He shoved his belongings into his trunk, swiped his moist eyes with his robe arms, and turned to his friends.
"Look, lads, I just ... look, thanks. Um ... James, could you lend me a hand?" James and Peter immediately lifted the trunk between them.
"Let me," Remus said abruptly. The boys gave him questioning glances, but Peter put down his end of the trunk. Remus hoisted it effortlessly. Peter scurried to the door and opened it. Sirius followed his friends down to the Great Hall, empty now except for Mr Black, Dumbledore, Bastion, and McGonagall.
Sirius faced his companions once more. "Thanks. Thanks again." He embraced them each in turn then faced his father and the professors.
"I'm ready."
"Anita."
Anita glanced up from the letter from home she was reading. Lily was hovering across the table, just behind Sarah. Anita had seen her share of frightened expressions on her friend's face, but this was enough to make her choke on her sip of pumpkin juice.
"W - what is it?" she stammered. Lily beckoned to her, shaking her head. Not here! her expression pleaded. Anita slipped the letter back into its envelope, shoved her bacon rinds to Greyshield, who hooted gratefully, and hurried to Lily, who began walking away from the Ravenclaw table before Anita had even reached her. Anita rushed after her, feeling in her silence the gravity of whatever she wanted to say.
Lily stopped in a quiet part of the Entrance Hall, near the doors to the grounds. She turned to her friend, her face grave and fearful.
"This has something to do with the prophecy," Anita said without a hint of emotion in her voice. Lily nodded, maintaining her grim expression.
"Sirius's mother is involved in this somehow." And as Anita watched in stunned fear, the story of Raven's mysterious dreams poured forth from Lily. She spoke with increasing anxiety, her words flowing more and more quickly until she finished with an accusing look at her friend. "Why didn't you tell me he's a Divinator?"
"I didn't know he'd get involved in this," Anita moaned.
"He's one of the Founders' Four! How could he not?"
"Oh, God, that's not what I meant! Lily, what can we do? I remember Raven talking to me once about Destiny. He knows a lot about Divination and fate, you know. I remember, back when he realised what this talent of his was, he did some background reading, and he said, 'It's a frightening thing to become involved with Destiny. If she wants you to do something, she'll find a way to make you.'" Anita shook her head, her voice trembling. "I can't help feeling she wants us to do this, to solve the prophecy. I just know something will happen to make us!"
"You don't believe that, do you?" Lily asked, her words catching slightly in her throat.
"Yes." Anita's reply was blunt. "If there's one thing Raven knows, it's Destiny."
"But that's not fair!"
"No. It's not. That's something else Raven taught me. Destiny's not fair."
With Sirius's departure, life returned as much to normal as was possible. Rumours still raged uncontrolled through the school and neither the Marauders nor the Goils felt up to correcting the talk. Instead, they spent most of their time together, either in silence, aching for Sirius' laughter or one of his mad pranks, or engaging in stunned discussion of recent events.
That Friday evening, the Gryffindors were gathered in their common room. Out of a gentle pity for them and sorrow at the grief hanging over the pranksters, their housemates had allowed them to have the warmest, most comfortable chairs nearest the fire.
Seated on either side of a small table, James and Peter were engaged in a halfhearted game of wizard's chess. James's pieces were being thoroughly decimated, and even his skilled opponent was making mistakes he would never have allowed himself had his mind been totally on the game.
"Er ... rook to E4," James muttered. He leant an elbow on the table, cupping his chin in his hand, and sighed. He was gazing at the chessboard without appearing to see it. "How could they get her?" he added in a hushed voice. He shook his head, shoved his glasses back up his nose and let one hand rest on his unruly hair.
"And on school grounds," Peter replied. "Knight to A5," he added vaguely.
"She was an Auror! How'd they manage to kill an Auror? Er ... knight to D6."
Peter shrugged feebly. "I don't know. Queen to D6." James's knight was promptly de-horsed.
"James!" Arabella called from where she was curled with her Potions textbook. He looked up in mid move. "You started your homework for Alkalli yet?"
"OH!" Peter jumped to his feet.
"What?" Lily said, glancing up from her own homework.
"N - nothing," Peter said a little sheepishly. "I just realised I left my textbook on my desk in the dungeons." He started walking towards the portrait hole. James glanced at the chessboard and shrugged, adjusting his glasses yet again.
"Oh, well. I was losing anyway."
Berating himself for his forgetful stupidity, Peter scurried through the corridors towards the dungeons. The lab was dim when he reached it; the lighting was never brilliantly bright, but after school hours when students were supposed to be curled in front of their warm common room fires, there was no point in having the room bathed in blazing light.
The shadowy shapes of the desks loomed in silence, creating an imposing, almost frightening scene. Peter peered into the dim dungeon, then crept slowly forward. His imagination conjured stealthy forms of Rosalind Black's killer behind every desk. He realised he was holding his breath. Exhaling shakily, Peter moved slowly forwards, knowing that in his place Sirius or James would simply stride in, grab the book and leave.
He took a deep breath and several quick steps towards his desk, saw the textbook, grabbed it and hurried towards the patch of somewhat brighter light that marked the half open door.
"Lucius, I promise!"
Peter started at the frantic voice, almost dropping his book. He ducked under a desk as the door crashed fully open, brightening the light in the room, dispelling the shadows but creating perhaps a worse image.
"Indeed, Kyle? Isn't it a little late for promises?" The malice and icy evil in the voice made it impossible to believe it issued from the mouth of a mere fourth-year, but it was Lucius Malfoy who spoke. Peter craned his neck slightly to see the doorway. After Alkalli (and of course, Bond) had entered the room, Malfoy turned and flung the door closed. It shut with a resounding crash.
Peter withdrew his head, holding his breath again. He crouched in silence under the desk, his hand over his mouth in case he made a noise. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a way to escape the terrible situation he found himself in. No ideas came.
"Lucius, I told you! I'm doing my best! I have my job to think of!" Alkalli strode to his desk, out of Peter's sight. Clattering and rustling noises began filtering to the boy from that direction.
"Of course. Working for the Muggle-lover is more important than fulfilling orders. Turn and face me." Malfoy's voice had become harsher, more threatening. "You're not looking for anything in there," he added slowly.
"I don't have to take orders from you, Lucius! You're a student." But the rustling stopped.
"Do I sense disrespect, Kyle?" Silky ice issued from Malfoy's mouth. He moved slowly towards Alkalli, out of Peter's sight, his cloak billowing behind him. The Gryffindor trembled, not daring to move, especially not to move his head and peer into the darkness to see Malfoy.
Bond snickered as he followed his cousin. "Brutus isn't pleased, is he, Lucius?"
"No, Jorman, my father is not pleased."
"Tell your father, Lucius," said Alkalli, with a hint of a tremor in his voice, "that I am endeavouring to fulfill his wishes. However, it is proving more difficult than I had anticipated."
"Well, what about the second year brats?" Malfoy spat. "Jorman, you heard them!"
"Yes." Peter could hear twisted glee in Bond's voice and imagine the malicious expression on his face; the Slytherin was almost snickering. "Two misguided girls in my year decided to stick their noses into our business."
"Who?" Alkalli's voice was eager.
"Oh," Bond said, laughter in his voice. "I don't know their names. After all, they're just two jumped-up little Mudbloods."
Peter trembled at the sound of the cruel words. He clenched his fists to try to channel his fear. Through the dim light, he glanced down at his hands. The knuckles were white. He forced himself to take a slow breath, afraid at every minute intake of air that the Slytherins would hear him, hear him and turn, discovering him.
"Kyle, if a pair of Mudbloods can attempt it, surely you can. Come, Jorman."
There was the sound of boots crossing the floor. Malfoy and Bond came back into Peter's view. The fourth year reached for the door, then paused for a moment. "Oh, and Kyle ... you might like to be a little more subtle next time. We don't want the whole school to know what we're doing."
Peter, still trembling under his desk, heard Alkalli muttering furiously. The drawers on the desk began slamming in time with his words. There came the sounds of a piece of parchment being withdrawn, and Alkalli mumbled something.
"Why don't Brutus and Lucius figure it out themselves if they're so eager?" he fumed, storming from the room, leaving Peter alone in the darkness, trying to make sense of anything he had just heard.
Gryffindor played Hufflepuff the next day in a match which would allow the Gryffindors to take the lead in the House Cup if they won. Raven Sanderson took Sirius Black's place as Beater, but it was clear even to his sister in the stands that the Gryffindor team was feeling the absence of its cheery, joking Beater. Rohan Dua was calling instructions to his team members more frequently than normal, and the whole side was making more mistakes than they usually did. Anita tried to watch the match and not let her own disturbing thoughts interrupt, but it was impossible. Ever since she had realised what it meant, she had tried to ignore the prophecy. But now Destiny was using her as a card in the game of fate. And she wouldn't toss Anita in the discard pile.
No matter how hard she tried to ignore the prophecy, something had always happened to foil Anita's attempts. She gulped as an unpleasant thought snuck into her head. What if Rosalind Black's death was simply Destiny's way of getting her attention? Anita quickly tried to quash the idea, but it swam there in her mind, grinning maliciously at her as it filled her with guilt.
No! she told herself firmly. It's not your fault. It can't be! But she was unable to convince herself.
She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't realise the game was over until she heard the massive whooping from the Gryffindor supporters. She looked up and saw Rohan Dua with the glittering Snitch held high above his head. She clapped halfheartedly, then got to her feet, sighing, told Lily she'd see her later, then trudged back to the castle and towards her common room.
She gave the password ("Snitchnip") to an intricately woven tapestry of a healer which covered the entry to the Ravenclaw common room. The woman smiled graciously before the tapestry rolled itself up and a panel of wall slid aside. Anita thanked the healer and plodded through the common room to her dormitory. She lay on her bed for some time, pondering the prophecy, then sighed. Lying around doing nothing would accomplish, well, nothing.
She grabbed her Charms textbook, ink, quill, and a roll of parchment and went down to the common room. She sank into a chair near where Sam Bone sat, with Arnold McKinnon and Alex Norson gathered around him. Anita recognised the thick book that Sam was opening, and put her head in her hand, half laughing, half groaning.
"Let me guess. Hamlet?"
"Nope," said Alex. "Macbeth. We're up to, er, Act 3, Scene III."
"Remind me again why you're reading through the complete works of William Shakespeare?"
"It's good education in Muggle literature for them, Anita," Sam's elder brother Julian said, looking up from the essay he was writing.
"You three are hopeless."
"We know," Arnold said. "Now ...." He cleared his throat. "The scene is Forres. In a park, with a road to the palace. Enter the murderers."
"But who did bid thee join with us?" Alex read.
"Macbeth," replied Sam.
Anita turned to her homework, scanning the textbook and scribbling down notes occasionally, half-listening to the boys reading their Shakespeare. She saw a paragraph of interest and paused, her quill hovering over it as she read the first two sentences.
The Cushioning Charm has been used in broomsticks since its invention in 1820. It was invented by Elliot Smethwyck and since then has become a standard part of all broomsticks manufactured.
"Let it come down," Alex said.
"O, treachery!" cried Arnold, raising his voice. Anita started, leaving a faint smudge of black ink in her textbook. She glared at the boys, then dropped her ink bottle.
For Arnold had continued: "Fly, good Fleance, fly,
fly, fly!"
"Fly!" Anita cried. Why couldn't the prophecy leave
her alone? Now she was finding words from it everywhere. Scowling,
she bent and retrieved her ink bottle, performing a quick charm
to remove the stain from the carpet.
"You know," Julian said as Arnold fell to the floor, obviously pretending to die, "Mum once told me that James I was descended of Banquo. And therefore Fleance."
Anita felt herself freeze.
"James I," she said faintly.
"Yeah. James I. You know, the Muggle king who united England and Scotland."
"United." She felt tears welling in her eyes as helplessness overwhelmed her. For Destiny had played her as a trump card.
She knew now. James I, who united England and Scotland, was descended of Fleance, who was told to fly in Shakespeare's play. It couldn't be coincidence.
James Potter was a member of the Founders' Four.