A/N: Thank you all for your patience while I took a tiny break from this story. Thanks to all new Follows and Faves - I hope to never disappoint.

Guest: Thank you for reading my story. Looks like you're up for one hell of a ride! :)

Chapter 22: Hidden Figures

Unedited...

The mood in the room was formidable, almost dripping with fear... The only sounds that broke the silence were the quiet crackling of the fire and the nervous shuffling of feet as the Knights stood there silently around their Master, waiting. The stillness that persisted in the room was so potent, it seemed to leave a haunting scream in its wake...

It was nearing dawn, but the Lestranges' house, marred by years and years of neglect, was covered in such a thick overgrowth of weed and brush that it looked like it was still midnight in the cavernous, circular living room. The mullioned windows on either side of the front door needn't have even been there given that they were coated by an inch of dust, making it impossible for any light to penetrate in at all...

And amidst the stench and decay they stood, tongue-tied and practically shaking on the spot. No one had the answers to the questions he sought nor the Portkeys he would need to steal the Founders' heirlooms—and he was not happy.

Interestingly, although every member in the room seemed about ready to wet their pants, there was only one TRULY guilty soul among them all tonight. Trembling and quivering in irrefragable fear, Trafford Avery didn't even need to look up to know that the terrifying set of slit pupils were trained on him, boring a hole in his skull. And despite the unnatural chill that enveloped them all, his palms got sweaty, leaving him a frantic, sputtering mess. He knew...! How did he always know?! He thought, wiping his hands against his robes for the hundredth time that morning. A tight knot was forming in the pit of his stomach and before he knew it, he found himself spiraling into mad panic.

Trafford had to come up with a plan, a plausible explanation as to why he hadn't been able to carry out the Lord's orders despite being the Head of the Department of Magical Cooperation! As it is, ever since Lycorus got admitted into the Goblin Liaison Office, Trafford had begun regretting his decision of ever joining the Knights of Walpurgis's cause... Because one, when he had agreed to join the 'guild' back in 1944, he was a teenager, a stupid bloody teenager, with a large head, a humongous ego, raging hormones and a bleeding thirst for thrill. Two, because suddenly, the Muggles and Muggle-borns were everywhere—in their streets, in their newspapers, in their bloody families... They were taking over the world and ruining EVERYTHING! Waging pointless wars merely to assert their foolish dominance over one another, tarnishing purely Magical bloodlines that were once untouchable, getting admitted into Magical schools and having the AUDACITY to make Magic their own—something which was once 'exclusive' to wizards! It boiled his blood even now when he thought about the Muggle filth that infiltrated into his own family and almost got the Noble House of Avery kicked out of the Sacred Twenty Eight compendium...

But as much as he despised this whole situation, his interest in the guild was waning fast, because to be part of the Knights meant he would be on the wrong side of the Ministry—RIGHT when the Avery name was finally rising up from the ashes once again. For as long as Trafford could remember, the Averys had meant nothing to the Magical world—they were neither feared upon as were the Rosiers or the Lestranges, nor were they revered as were the Blacks. The Averys were merely one of the last few pure-blood families to exist—until now!

Because now, the time had finally come to show the world who the Averys really were and what it would mean to cross them! It had taken Trafford his whole life and scores and scores of sacrifices and insults and sleepless nights to have risen up to this level in wizarding strata. And now, with Lycorus too joining the Goblin Liaison Office, they were finally UNTOUCHABLE! Going against the Lord was the only option. And although he knew he was playing a VERY dangerous game, the odds of which could cost him his whole life, he didn't care. Ambition and the greed for power numbed him blind even as he stood there, in the dark dungeon-like room, burning under the Lord's death glare.

And he would have gladly absconded for today's meeting as well had it not been for the anonymous tip-off he had received at his office the day before about the growing displeasure of the Knights at his remiss. He had known the bunch too well to brush it off as a bluff. These halfwits here were some of the deadliest wizards one could ever run into, and he was not going to take his chances with them. Because from the corner of his eye, he could see the blatant delight on Bellatrix's face every time she shot him sultry looks of glee, almost as if she knew his secret. A sick fear gripped him as he watched her lick her lips and watch him in the most nauseating manner possible and Trafford didn't know who he needed to fear more, the Lord, or her...

The silence got denser and denser now, and every breath suddenly felt like molten lava at his nostrils.

"Twelve able wizards and witches..." Voldemort finally spoke, his stony voice sending shivers down their spine as if they had been hit by a sudden blast of icy wind. Trafford felt his facial muscles turn to stone—it was evident that the Lord was speaking to him and him only, "…and not one worthy enough to carry out orders—"

He didn't know what came over him, but he found himself floundering in terror.

"—M-My Lord!" squeaked Trafford, before he could stop himself. "Not at all!" he stuttered, bravely stepping forward and tumbling clumsily to the floor to bow down in front of the large man, seated in his high-backed chair. "P-Please, my Lord, do not believe those who whisper behind my back! Their only intention is to turn you against me, against your most loyal servant!" he stammered, not realising he had just fed himself to the devil! Because the room erupted into an uproar at once.

"RUBBISH! WE HAVE NO SUCH PLOYS, MY LORD!" roared Rodolphus Lestrange, looking aghast. "We only speak the TRUTH!"

"Your Lordship, I am innocent!" Trafford bellowed desperately. "THE KNIGHTS HAVE WANTED TO BANISH ME FROM THE GUILD FOR A VERY LONG TIME—!"

"MALARKEY! AVERY'S BLARNEYING, MY LORD!" screamed Vinda Rosier, sneering into Trafford's face. "HE'S A TRAITOR!"

"NO! MY LORD, EVERYONE'S LYING TO YOU! NO ONE'S TELLING YOU THE TRUTH!" he spluttered, shaking uncontrollably and desperately racking his brains to come up with something sensible, "It's not true, my Lord! Everything about the Cursed Pair is FALSEHOOD!" he cried, trembling from head to toe. He was not good at lying, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "It's a farce—!"

"LIES!" shrieked Bellatrix, "TRAFFY AVERY LIES!" she scream-sang before Trafford could even finish his sentence, glaring and gleaming at the same time as if she had consumed a whole tub of Amortentia and Doxycide together! "The traitor never conducted the investigation—!"

"—THAT'S NOT TRUE! My Lord, I'm being framed, DOUBLE-CROSSED! Don't believe a word of what's being said—!"

"—My Lord, Avery hasn't attended a meeting in SIX MONTHS!" interjected Rhobus Nott, grinning triumphantly in Bellatrix's direction.

"—I was busy serving your Lordship, my Master—!"

"—LIES!" screeched Bellatrix again, this time even more loudly than the last. "Avery submitted a petition to the Minister's office last night requesting the termination of the inquiry!" she screamed, triggering a roar of approval from the other members.

Trafford merely blinked wildly. "BECAUSE THE LEGEND OF THE CURSED PAIR IS A FARCE! There are no Hidden Kingdoms! There were NO Hadens! It's a MYTH, my Lord! A myth designed to drive wizards crazy! All your efforts to track down the Founders' heirlooms are POINTLESS—!"

"—SILENCE!" roared Lord Voldemort finally. Everyone fell quiet at once. The large snake at his ankle coiled further up the pillar behind him, hissing and spitting at them all, and mirroring her Master's rage. "Bellatrix..." he whispered, his voice smooth as silk, despite the burning rage within his vertical slits. "What of the Black boy?" he asked, only he was glaring at a stupefied Trafford while he spoke.

Bellatrix made a guttural noise of happy frustration and annoyingly beamed at Trafford before speaking. "Acquitted! On all accounts!" she screamed, and Trafford's insides sank even more. "Just this mornin'! He was backed by Dumbledore... The ol' oaf convinced a room full of Ministry officials that they were cracked in the head to think they had finally broken the Wall in History! He made us all look like an absurd travesty, M'Lord! Said everyone hoping to find Portkeys that would take them to the Hidden Kingdoms had better visit Borgin Burkes instead for priceless 'collectibles'!" she growled, her voice now growing steadily with every syllable in anger.

The silence that followed that scream was worse than death.

"The Seventh Knight...?"

"Sirius Black. The future Lord of House Black, my Lord. My unworthy cousin! Still alive and still as much a blood-traitor as EVER!"

The pair of bloodshot eyes had turned to fire now.

"And the heirlooms...?" he hissed, sounding more dangerous than ever, his face quivering uncontrollably.

"Gone."

The chillness that swept up the room made his blood run cold. Every single member's gaze was on him now.

"Avery..."

"My Lord, no..." he stuttered, dissolving entirely in mortal terror. "PLEASE, my Lord! I'm not lying! THE LEGEND IS NOT TRUE! THE KNIGHTS ARE PLOTTING YOUR DOWNFALL—!"

A wand was raised.

"MY LORD! I AM YOUR MOST LOYAL SERVANT—!"

It twisted into position, steady as a rock.

"No! No, my Lord, PLEASE! I have a family! MY FAMILY NEEDS ME! My Lord, please! I'm sorry, my Lord! The Averys shall never deceive you again! NEVER! I AM ETERNALLY AT YOUR FEET! Please spare m—"

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light hit him squarely in the head.

Several screams filled the room as his body dropped dead to the floor with a lonely thud.

~oOo~

~oO Back in Hogwarts

LORD TRAFFORD AVERY DISCOVERED DEAD.

The newspaper had barely left the tiny, tawny owl's feet when Isabella let out a stunned gasp at the headlines that morning.

"WHAT?!" she roared, snatching it away from Sirius's reach and staring wildly at the words again and again as if hoping they would miraculously end up meaning something else.

"OI! Give it to me!" he yelled back crossly but she ignored him and wrenched the paper open to read the article.

Gasping irritatedly, he did the unthinkable—he clambered on top of the table amidst surprised cries of horror, pushed a whole jug of pumpkin juice down in his haste (much to the annoyance of their fellow House-mates) and jumped next to her on the other side just in time to join James, Mary, Remus, Claiborne and Alice by her side.

The five of them put their heads together while Isabella read out loud. "'Lord Trafford Parius Avery, Head of the Department of Magical Cooperation, discovered dead at the Ministry headquarters in the wee hours of this morning—a day after he had ordered for the termination of the inquiry into the Hogwarts theft case. His body was found lying at the feet of the Fountain of Magical Brethren statue in the Ministry's Atrium, much to the horror of the staff and officials.'

"Bloody hell," mumbled Alice, her hand flying over mouth. "He's Lycorus's father, isn't he?!" she gasped, turning to face the boys.

"He is," Sirius nodded darkly, still reading the paper over Isabella's shoulder.

"It won't be long before they go for Ly, too, eh?" said James running a hand through his shock of messy hair, invoking mortal terrors in their eyes. The other Gryffindor students around them whipped their heads around too, having never realised this could be the obvious next headline they ever read.

"Does it say who did it?!" demanded Eudora Bearfist.

"Doesn't have to!" Edgar replied fiercely from Isabella's other side. "It's that Voldemort and his henchmen again, obviously! It's been him for the last ten years at least—!"

"Bones, could you not say his name, please?" Nabirye Eusuola feverishly wheezed. "It's all I ever hear these days... And I'm positively freaked out!"

"Hang on!" cried Isabella and continued to read the paper out aloud. "'Rumour mills are abuzz that the murder was the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. From the looks of it, it is probable that Avery was part of the Dark cult known as the Knights of Walpurgis, an alleged secret association of wizards and witches who work for the Dark Lord. Local Aurors believe that things may have turned sour between him and the rest of the members, which must have led to his execution.

Central Investigators, however, assert that that may not be the case, as several Heads of Departments at the Ministry insist Avery was innocent and had no connection to the Dark side.

'Trafford Avery was an honourable wizard with an impeccable record, during his time as Head,' stated a Department representative. 'He had no enemies; he was a good man.'

And even as the British Magical Community seethes in shock at the news of Avery's death, graver news have reached the Daily Prophet from Muggle authorities earlier today. The Muggle Prime Minister's intelligence agency has allegedly reached out to the Minister of Magic to inform her that there might have been a falling out between the Dark Lord's supporters themselves last night, forcing them to split into two separate groups, one with more dangerous and sinister motives than the former. Only time would tell what this would mean for the Magical community in the coming future.'"

"Merlin's beard," whispered James, yanking his glasses off his face in shock and looking stunned. "Voldemort's supporters—"

"—Potter, for the love of Godric!" roared Nabirye.

"Okay, okay, fine!" he snapped back with a roll of his eyes. "This—'Dark Lord's' supporters have had falling out?" James finished.

"And the new bunch are far more dangerous?" added Edgar.

"And why would someone ever call themselves a 'Knight of Walpurgis'?" Claiborne gagged, her face twisted in repulsion.

"Wait, wait, wait... Can we please focus on the actual news?!" snapped Adaire Blackwood, a fellow sixth-year and Eudora's best friend. "Lord Avery is dead. So, what, no one, not even Purebloods, is immune to this shit now?!"

"Apparently so..." breathed Robert, looking particularly flustered. "Mate, the Averys are massive!" he said, turning to the boys. "They're some of the purest of the pure families to ever exist! Why would someone with that name ever be a target—?!"

"—Doesn't matter," Sirius cut him, looking grimmer than ever. "Haven't you worked it out as yet? He doesn't care about anything but himself! And his rise to power!" he spat out darkly. "If you cross the Dark Lord, you tend stand the same fate too. He doesn't care about blood purity, he's not Grindelwald... He just wants Pureblood bondsmen licking his feet and if you don't bow to him, you will die too, irrespective of blood status, it seems."

Sirius's words sent shivers down the table and practically everyone had stopped eating now. The reality of what was coming for them all seemed to hit them in their very core, making it impossible to remain calm anymore.

Clayton Wicker shook his head dazedly. "Lycorus was a legend, man... I'd be devastated if something were to happen to him."

"More reason why we ought to clear the A.P.E.s and join the bloody fight," Remus said sporting the grimmest expression Isabella had ever seen on him. Clapping him lightly on the back he quickly straightened up and gathered up his books, seemingly preoccupied all of a sudden. "Frankly, I'm surprised the Ministry didn't think of this conscription programme earlier on. Imagine the number of tragedies they could've averted..." he trailed off, his face suddenly bearing deep sadness. "Choose your friends wisely, I'd say," he added, and stormed out of the place without waiting for anyone.

Everyone who had been listening in blinked confusedly as they watched Remus's head disappear beyond the double doors. Sirius and James exchanged worried looks.

"Go," said Sirius even as James grabbed his bag and mutely dashed after his friend. Isabella didn't know what upset Remus all of a sudden, but she had to admit: he was mighty lucky to have chosen these two airheads as his friends.

Sirius, Isabella, James and Remus had been the first to get discharged from the Hospital Wing, three days ago, while Lily and Peter continued to recover under Madam Pomfrey's care. And the first thing that Isabella noticed after her return were the number of empty chairs at the High Table during dinner. Going by the surprised look on her face, Claiborne had explained that damage-control up at the Wizangamot was still underway and that most classes were governed by the Prefects from the different Houses for the time being. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Sprout, Flitwick and Slughorn had apparently been summoned to the magical court of law to rule out foul-play in the Portkey theft case; exactly how they were going to achieve that she had no idea, and the Daily Prophet had been curiously tight-lipped about this case too.

The more worrisome aspect, however, was that of Regulus Black as everyone apart from the Chief Warlock (Dumbledore) were convinced that the boy was guilty as charged for smuggling in Dark objects into the school. From whatever they could hear through the grapevine, however, it was clear that Dumbledore was making a mockery of the court by challenging the members to prove the existence of the so-called 'Vanishing Cabinet' through which Regulus was accused of sneaking in the objects.

'Father said the whole affair was quite scandalous!' Esmeralda Blishwick, their Slytherin classmate, had told them that day during Charms. Leaning in closer so that they won't be overheard, she had added, 'Mother thinks everyone's so keen on convicting him only because they want to see mighty Walburga Black's head hang in shame... Pathetic, eh?'

To say that she was shocked at the lengths wizards were willing to go to overthrow a powerful name was an understatement. 'Is it just me, or does everyone else thinks wizards are a hundred times haughtier than Muggles too?' Alice had asked just as Dorcas Meadowes, the Prefect of Slytherin House, caught them whispering and took 10 points from Gryffindor.

The second thing Isabella noticed since her return was that she had, most unfortunately, suddenly shot to fame, because no matter where she went or what she did, all everyone ever wanted to do now was stop and stare at her or whisper behind her back, not even TRYING to be subtle about it. The Slytherin girls, perhaps, were the most spiteful of them all, as they had suddenly rounded up on her one day and demanded answers about the heirlooms and Portkeys. The poor lassies didn't know what hit them when, suddenly a horde of Hufflepuffs discovered them and immediately came to her rescue. Admittedly, it was rather hilarious to watch them flee for their lives screaming as if they had cockroaches crawling up their skirts.

But despite having gone back to their old lives, the goings-on at the old castle still looked like the inside of a poorly-written 1970's TV show, with journalists, Aurors, goblins and pointy-hatted Ministry officials hopping in and out of view in the corridors every now and then. Every inch and every corner of the old school was being searched, which, much to the annoyance of the staff members, highly disrupted classes and the students' daily routine. Teachers and Prefects were given strict orders to follow and comply with the Aurors' demands at all times, which sadly meant less practicals and more homework to make up for the lack of activity during classes.

And even as she picked up her bag and followed her friends to their Muggle Studies classroom, she realised just how relaxed things have gotten between her and Sirius. She didn't know what or why, but for the first time ever, she felt free—completely free. She was no longer awkward around him, didn't feel the urge to constantly look for him, didn't freeze on the spot if he got too close to her, nor feel the harrowing emptiness in her heart that she had battled with night after night. She was finally over him.

-O-

"It's been three days now, Lue, can we please not do this?" she demanded, scowling at the rock-hard, expressionless face of Lucius Malfoy as he mutely practiced the Bird-Conjuring Charm. Several girls from across the room kept shooting them curious glances as if they couldn't believe someone as suave as Lucius would ever want to hang out with a slob such as herself. "Lucius!" she hissed, yanking his wand off his hand and causing it to send a jet of hot water and nearly knocking poor Bertha Jorkins off her feet.

"Are you mental?" he yelled, turning to glare down at her and sneering an apology to Bertha at the same time.

"Well, I had to get your attention one or the other, didn't I?" she replied stiffly. "Look, you have every right to be mad at me—"

"—ha, it's funny you should say that, considering you've hounded me for three days straight asking me to not be exactly that!" he said, scoffing mirthlessly.

"Because, THREE FULL DAYS of this torturous silent treatment is a bit much, don't you think?" she snapped back, grinding her teeth for full measure. "I mean, honestly, what have I done so bad to deserve this?"

He swiftly turned around to face her. "Honestly? Do you want me to spell it out for you—?!"

"—NO!" she yelled back, quickly realising her mistake. The two of them fell silent once more and Lucius went back to muttering the spell under his breath. Giving him one more wistful look, she gulped her ego down and straightened up. "Okay, fine... I'm sorry!" she said at long last, making his hand halt in mid-air, waiting. "I shouldn't have tricked you like that..." she mumbled, scowling petulantly. "It was mean and not very nice of me."

Raising an eyebrow, he turned his cold, pale face towards her once again. "And?" he said, watching her through the bridge of his nose.

It took her a while to gulp down her ego and gather the courage required to say the following words out loud. "I should've at least let you join us on the mission!" she growled, speaking between her teeth and grudgingly letting him win the squabble.

He paused for a second, as if contemplating on whether this was a good-enough apology or not. Nodding satisfactorily, he said, "Well, that's all I wanted to hear!" hardly opening his mouth.

"But!" she said, feeling her temper rise up again. "You HAVE to admit that I could never have known you'd want to come along too, considering you HATE those pigheads!"

"That's none of your concern! I wanted to come see the Hidden Kingdoms and you wouldn't LET ME! It's why I was sneaking outside Filch's office in the first place, wasn't I?" he sneered back, not even realising how puerile he sounded.

"You're unbelievable!"

"At least I'm not a traitor!"

"Am I forgiven or not?!" she rasped, hotly crossing her hands across her chest.

"Sure, I don't see a reason why you shouldn't be, considering you admitted to acting like a complete dolt—"

"—HONESTLY?!" she snarled, and watched the corners of his lips twitch expressionlessly. A second later, however, his resolve breaks and before she knew it, he had burst out laughing in her face. Wheezing and gasping and fully collapsing to the floor, he managed to say, "Okay, okay, fine! I took it a bit too far, I reckon!" before howling his lungs out once again.

"I hate you!" Isabella said, slapping his arm while he continued to cackle on the side. Rolling her eyes, she simply stared at him for a long time, teetering between disbelief and apathy, her face working furiously as she too felt an explosive laughter bursting its way up. Before she knew it, she had collapsed to the floor too next to him. And the two of them end up roaring out so much, Bertha on the table next to theirs almost seemed to worry for their sanity.

-O-

The final bell for the day rang through at long last, followed by the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and made a dash for the door.

"Good Godric, that was the most mind-numbing day I've ever had!" exclaimed Mary, swinging her bag onto her shoulder.

"Tell me about it," mumbled James from the back, looking just as disgruntled. "I swear, I'd rather throw sand in my eyes than listen to Meadowes's screechy, 'Read chapters three and four... QUIETLY!'" he barked out in a nasal tone and doing a fantastic imitation of her.

Isabella snorted while the rest of the girls burst into giggles.

"That was uncanny!" cackled Edgar, high-fiving a delirious James.

"I mean!" James guffawed, still laughing, "D'you think her dorm mates ever wake up screaming in the middle of the night because her snores drove a hole in their skulls?" he said in tones of mock concern.

"Ha. Well, that explains a lot about the rest of them..." said Remus, sounding genuinely surprised. "No wonder they're all so dense," he said, most seriously while the group broke into louder snickers.

"Also, picture this," started Edgar, putting his hands out dramatically. "There's Meadowes screeching out on one side and then there's Bertha doing her bit on the other night after night!" he grinned, shaking his head in mock empathy. "Yeah, I feel terrible for the Slytherin girls," he guffawed, making James nearly choke to death.

And even as they continued to lose their heads at Edgar's theory, Sirius cleared his throat hesitantly from the back, making Edgar, Remus and James swivel around curiously. "Er, actually she doesn't snore at night," he stated and blinked wildly back at them. "On the contrary, she's actually kinda sweet."

James and Remus froze in place, a look of horror quickly replacing their grins. "OH MY GOD, you and BERTHA JORKINS?" James guffawed after what seemed like an eternity. "WHEN?!" he exclaimed, grabbing the front of his robes and grinning uncontrollably in second-hand embarrassment for his best friend.

"At the very beginning of fifth-year, last September!" Remus blurted out looking unimpressed before Sirius could even stop him.

"That was supposed to be a secret, Moony!" he yelled, scrunching his face up like a child.

"Honestly, Black, Bertha?!" asked Mary with a scrunch of her nose. "Doesn't she smell pretty bad?" she said, dramatically lowering her voice and teasing him even more.

"No, she does not!" he retorted defensively. "Secondly, she had on her some really fine moves, okay? Just goes to show there's beauty inside," he said before quickly adding, "...EVEN if not so much on the outside!" he scoffed and tried to ward off the repulsion he was receiving from the onlookers.

"But... Wh—" James stuttered, still seething in shock at this new piece of information. "How're you two NOT awkward around each other in classes, though? I mean, you had me fooled!"

"Well, it's all about getting the contract right, man!" snorted Sirius, his magnetic confidence suddenly returning in all its glory, as the group trudged into the Great Hall for dinner. "The two of you must simply understand each other perfectly, and VOILA! The perfect shag!"

The boys all blinked while girls rolled their eyes and apathetically took their seats around the long table.

"O Master, please impart wisdom upon us mortal imbeciles!" Edgar crooned dramatically, making Isabella scoff even more loudly.

"Three rules, man," started Sirius, holding up three fingers, his eyes twinkling delightfully. "Three golden rules to get that drama-free, non-clingy lay that we ALL want—"

"—correction. That drama-free, non-clingy lay that YOU want," interjected James.

"DON'T interrupt the man...?" Edgar sputtered peevishly, before turning eagerly towards Sirius, who was still holding out three fingers up in the air. "Go on, mate. What are they?" he grinned, hardly managing to contain the glee on his face.

Sirius flashed that smile and Isabella instantly knew what to expect. "Ba-bang, ba-boom, ha-buh-bye!" he laughed, cringing at his own product!

The girls shook their head in complete disapproval while the boys were beside themselves with laughter.

"But, mate," Edgar started, finally managing to catch his breath. "Was Bertha the one you lost your—"

"—haha! Hardly!" Remus cut him, rolling his eyes in disbelief as if he expected more from a fine man like Edgar. "No. Sirius lost his virginity last summer when he was visiting his Uncle Something-Something—"

"—and NO, he didn't lose it to his Uncle, MERLIN, no!" bellowed Sirius just in time, making the rest of them dissolve into peals of laughter.

"I'm telling the story!" Remus mock-chided, nudging him hard in the ribs. Sirius winced, but grudgingly plonked back in the seat next to him, a sheepish smile permanently plastered across his face. "So, as I was saying," Remus continued gleefully, as if he had not been interrupted at all, "poor Ira only spoke French but apparently Mr. Suave Grande and her had a 'great connection', seeing as they were able to drop their pants to overcome the language barrier," he stated whilst shaking his head in mock disappointment in Sirius's direction. Isabella was dying now. She was laughing so hard, she was risking coughing up her intestines very soon.

Claiborne shook her head teasingly. "Ugh! The French!" she said while biting back a wide smirk.

Practically sobbing from uncontained laughter, Alice asked, "What happened to poor Ira after that?"

"Well, let's just say I got off completely scott-free!" replied Sirius, laughing gleefully at his own story.

Several gasps, mostly from the boys, resounded around them. "What the hell?" asked a flabbergasted Edgar.

"Yeah, apparently she too wasn't looking for anything 'serious', pun intended!" said Remus, giving Sirius a playful death glare.

"Damn, the French!" said Claiborne even more loudly now, making Isabella howl more than she ever thought was humanly possible.

"And their legs, good MERLIN!" chimed in Sirius, grinning stupidly at a pair of imaginary long legs beckoning at him.

Still laughing, Claiborne flailed her hands frantically to get everyone's attention. "Okay, okay, I have to know! Remus...?" she started, to which he responded by saying, "Yes, Clay?" whilst holding her gaze in the most idyllic way possible.

Isabella's eyes automatically searched for an invisible Lily to exchange glances with.

"Is there maybe just one thing that only YOU know about one of them that the rest don't?" she asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

An excited silence fell around them as they waited for an answer. Remus, for some reason, somehow looked like he had finally chanced upon THE jackpot question of his life. "And here I was thinking this day would never come..." he stated dramatically.

James and Sirius gasped. "You can't be SERIOUS!" James bellowed from the side and nearly jumped on top of the table in excitement.

"Get a hold of yourself, James!" Isabella said in a half-chiding, half-teasing way.

"Well?" asked an eager Edgar watching Remus puff out dramatically and flexing his non-existent arms for the big showdown.

After a moment of thought, he curtly nodded to himself. "Well, ladies and gents, we have a winner," Remus declared.

"Who is it about?!" James demanded urgently.

"Ah, well, Peter's tale is a sad one..."

"It's about PETER?!" Sirius yelped delightedly. "Why didn't you tell us?!"

"Because he begged me not to!" replied Remus, chuckling heartily now. "Anyway, it's a bit of a touchy topic, both for him... and me," he said, growing suspiciously pale in the face.

"Shut up and SPILL!" grinned Sirius, having not touched a morsel of food on his plate.

"Patience, Pads! The build-up's important, you know?" he said grinning for full measure now. "So, you two remember his then girlfriend, Carlyn, don't you?" to which James and Sirius eagerly nodded. Sighing sadly, he continued. "Well, it happened on one fine sunny morning during Binns' class. There I was, minding my own business and taking down notes when something catches my eye. I turn to my right and find my boy, well, practically drooling on himself!"

"Nothing surprising there!" chuckled James, beside himself with eagerness.

"Anyway, I follow his gaze and realise he was actually gawking at poor Carlyn. When I asked him about it later after class, he tells me, he's convinced she was making 'eyes' at him."

"Oh, no!" started James. "Oh, no, no, no. Oh, poor Peter!"

Remus was almost bursting at the seams now. "I must say, though, our boy didn't disappoint!" he guffawed, much to their bewilderment. "Because, believe it or not, he actually did manage to get her alone... into an abandoned broom cupboard... up in the fifth floor!" he said, speaking very slowly and giving them knowing looks, making James and Sirius gape back in utter and complete disbelief. The shock that weaved through them numbed them all mute for a whole minute.

"Unfortunately, for me, though, I was on Prefect duties."

"NOOOOOO!" howled the whole group at the same time while Claiborne exploded into laughter at the revelation.

"Merlin's pants, I don't think I have the will to hear the rest!" yelped Sirius, jamming his hands over his ears, while Remus and the rest of roared with laughter.

"WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?!" bellowed a hysterical James.

Remus shrugged helplessly. "Well, Peter claimed I should have 'recognised' his voice and not opened the door, to which I told him that never before had I heard him moan and had no way of knowing that he was, in fact, 'grandly climaxing' when I... You know?"

The group of friends had nearly choked and died with laughter by now. No one even had the energy to listen to the rest of the sentence. "You are so funny!" wheezed Claiborne practically sobbing now. "How are you so funny?" she asked again, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

"I try," he replied, smiling broadly down at her red face.