Mr and Mrs Evans departed early from their holiday cruise. Their youngest daughter would arrive home for Easter break the next day, after all, and they saw her much too infrequently as it was, what with how far away her curious and spectacular school was.

"I can't wait to see her face," said Mr Evans, as they walked with their luggage down the harbor. "I bet she'll scream."

"Our Lily is certainly a screamer," Mrs Evans admitted.

It was bizarre, the way events played out. Cruises could be very, very dangerous affairs, yet disaster chose to strike only once they'd returned home. On a cloudy evening, the couple chose to cut through the wrong little alley, bumped into the wrong young man armed with a knife and desperate for money.

"If you struggle, I'll kill you."

They struggled.

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Lily snorted in between giggles.

"It's really not that funny," Sirius mumbled.

She held a hand up, hunching over a little and struggling to breathe from laughing.

"Really, Lily, I don't see the joke," said Marlene, annoyance written plainly on her face.

Sirius and Marlene, with their loosened ties, unbuttoned shirts, and ruffled hair, looked out at Lily from the broom closet, radiating a mix of indignance, guilt, and awkwardness.

"Ohhh!" Lily was bent all the way over now, clutching at her knees and trying to regain control over her breath. "Ohhhhh!"

"This is too much," Sirius muttered.

Marlene made a disgruntled sound as she eyed Lily. "If you're not going to give us a detention or anything, can you just go? I promise we'll finish up here quickly."

Sirius frowned. "Quickly?"

"Oh," said Lily, standing straight and gaining control immediately, "I'm giving you both detentions, don't worry."

"What?"

"You both knew I was patrolling at this hour, yet you chose now to hook up in a broom closet of all places."

"Lily, we're your friends!"

Lily pointed at Marlene. "You are engaged. To a Mr William Ärger, remember?" She pointed at Sirius. "And you know she's engaged. Yet here you both are." She put her hands on her hips and surveyed them disappointedly. "Does the institution of marriage mean nothing to you two?"

Neither of them looked as abashed as Lily wanted them to.

"Lily," said Marlene, "how I choose to butcher my engagement is none of your concern."

Lily rolled her eyes. "That would be the case, if you didn't choose to do it by breaking school rules. I am a Prefect, and therefore this," she gestured to each of them sharply, and then to the broom closet in general, "is my concern. Consider me concerned."

With a flick of her hair, she turned and stalked off down the corridor, not waiting for one of them to ruin her illusion of having put them in their place. Regardless, she still heard Sirius make one more comment before she reached the end of the corridor.

"James really needs to shag the attitude out of her as soon as possible."

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Taureau Barkley cracked into place on an empty street in Birmingham and fired off a killing curse, which Caradoc Dearborn ducked under before breaking into a sprint, not even turning to fire a spell back. After months of waiting for the right moment to kill the man, Taureau Barkley had seized his chance the previous night. Dearborn had darted under the killing curse at the last moment to tie his shoelace. Why Dearborn hadn't simply used a charm for the task, Taureau Barkley couldn't say, but it had saved the man's life.

Over the last day, Dearborn had led him on a merry chase around the country, and Taureau Barkley's bad luck didn't seem to be abating any time soon.

He sprinted after his quarry, fired off another killing curse. The green light chipped a sign post and knocked it over, singing the metal. He sprinted on. Dearborn reached the end of the street and darted left. Taureau Barkley barged into the closest alley, praying that the short-cut would allow him to cut Dearborn off on the next street over. The alley smelled, and was dark, but it all blurred past as he raced through it. It started to curve towards the rough direction of Dearborn's route, and Taureau Barkley smiled-

A dead end.

It was a dead end at the end of the alley, with only a sad building of boarded up doors and cracked windows to greet him. Cursing under his breath, he turned on the spot and cracked into place back at the start of the alley. He walked to the street Dearborn had turned off on. Empty. He kept walking, down to the next street, and the next. The urgency had left his pace completely. By now, he knew, Dearborn would be long gone.

"-much time, so tell me what you know before I take you to the Ministry and throw you in a cell!"

Taureau Barkley paused and turned to the direction of the voice. Dearborn's voice. It came from a building on his right. A window was open, and he sidled up to it and peaked through. Smiled widely. Perhaps good luck had finally found its way to him.

Dearborn stood in a small bedroom, his wand trained on a plump man in checkered pyjamas lying in a narrow bed. The man laughed. "I know who you are. Caradoc Dearborn. You say you'll take me to the Ministry? The way I hear it, you're wanted by the Ministry. They want your head!"

"A lot of people want my head right now," Dearborn muttered.

Taureau Barkley scratched his nose.

"You're in no position," said the man smugly, "to make demands, Mr Deaborn."

"I'm in no position?" Dearborn repeated. He grabbed the man by his silk pyjama shirt, lifted him from his bed, and slammed him against the wall. Pressing his wand to the man's throat, Dearborn leaned close and whispered, "How about this position?"

Though flustered, the man didn't look intimidated. "I know more still about you, Mr Deaborn. You're a Death Eater. You passed on Ministry information to the Dark Lord. Yet you come here asking questions that a Death Eater should have no interest in. Could it be that you are a double double agent? Not for the Dark Lord, but someone else? Albus Dumbledore, perhaps?"

Dearborn's lips thinned.

"Interesting," said the man, eyes gleaming.

"Look," said Dearborn quietly, "you will tell me what I want to know. I've gone through too much trouble, chased too many cold leads, interrogated Phillip Kelsey, Amon Romani, Kriss Tormund, all to get to you. Now what do you know about Blithe?"

The man smiled wanly. "As I'm sure you know, Mr Dearborn, I am an information broker. I have ears in many places, and I hear many things. Knowing those things is my trade. I am not partial to either side of this war, although I've heard plenty about each. The man you seek. Blithe. I've never met him, but I have one piece of information for you, in exchange for the one piece of information you've given me."

Dearborn frowned. "I've given you nothing."

"Caradoc Dearborn, the wanted fugitive," said the man, "is not, in fact, a Death Eater. That is a very valuable piece of information."

Dearborn was quiet for a few seconds. Eventually, he said, "Right." Then, "So tell me what I want to know."

"My one piece of information for you, Mr Dearborn, is quite curious, if only because of the timing. Blithe has grand plans. Plans which, through word of mouth alone, I have some, albeit limited, understanding of." The man's smug smile widened. "And he puts those plans into motion today. He has already taken the first step: eliminating an enemy who has proven to be a great threat to him."

After a moment's hesitation, Dearborn let go of the man's shirt, stepped back. The man brushed himself off and walked back to his bed. As he climbed under the covers, he surveyed Dearborn with a neutral expression. "I cannot tell you who that enemy is, of course. Our trade has not been that favorable. But I'm sure you have some inkling of what's going on, regarding everyone's identities."

"Oh yes," said Dearborn darkly. "I'm well aware that he is Emmett Fawley."

The man raised his eyebrows, smiling. "It seems you don't need my assistance at all, then."

Taureau Barkley froze. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

"Well, off with you then, Mr Dearborn. It was a pleasure doing business."

Mind racing, searching for his next course of action.

"Mr Dearborn? What- what are you doing?"

"Like I said before," said Dearborn. "I've given you nothing."

"Get back! No!"

"Obliviate."

A few seconds later, there was a sharp crack, and Dearborn was no longer in the room. Snapping into action, Taureau Barkley knew he had to act fast. With another crack, he too was gone.

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Caradoc apparated onto the front steps of a large, dark building. The home of Emmett Fawley. Blithe.

He tried the door, out of habit more than anything. Oddly enough, it was open. With his wand out, he pushed through, entered the house.

It was dark inside, and quiet. The walls seemed tight. There were picture frames, but he couldn't make anything out. He didn't light up his wand. If Fawley was here, he couldn't alert him to his presence.

Stepping slowly, cautiously, Caradoc made his way forward. It was a thin corridor, at the end of which was another dark room. No floorboards creaked, which was a relief. He let out his breaths gradually, being as quiet as he could. Other than his slow, soft footfalls, there was no noise coming from anywhere else in the house. Still, he found himself on edge, couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Caradoc emerged into what he recognized as a kitchen - the silhouette of a table, a sink by the wall. He walked further, to an open door revealing yet another dark room. The darkness was thicker here, the room was small. He stepped in, able to make out the shape of a desk against the wall. Reaching out he felt a chair in front of him. Empty.

He turned. There was a silhouette in the doorway, unmoving.

Caradoc trained his wand on it. "I advise you not to try anything foolish. I've already been attacked once today, and I'm not keen on another one."

The silhouette was small, like a person crouching low.

Caradoc frowned. "Lumos."

His wand lit up, the room appeared around him, and the House-elf in front of him was glaring with piercing venom. "Intruders are not welcome in my master's house!"

"Merlin," breathed Caradoc, lowering his wand. He walked to the wall and flicked on the light, putting his wand's light out.

"Intruders are not welcome in my master's house," she repeated crossly, stomping her little foot.

"Considering your master is a Death Eater and a murderer, I'm not inclined to care how unwelcome I am here. Although," he said, making to step past her and out of the room, "who does welcome intruders in their house?"

"My master is not a Death Eater," she said blankly.

He paused and turned, then gave her a pitying look. "What's your name?"

"Amila."

"Look, Amila. I'll put this very simply. Your master is a dangerous man, and he associates with some dangerous people." He strolled about the room, stretching a cramp in his leg. The last day had largely consisted of running. "Just this morning I was being chased by one of his associates. A particularly dangerous man, who-" Caradoc stared, "is in that picture frame right there."

Caradoc rushed to the desk and picked up the frame. Taureau Barkley and Emmett Fawley, smiling out at him, the Eiffel Tower poking up into a beautiful blue sky behind them.

"Ah," said Amila, "you mean Master Barkley."

Caradc jerked his head to her. "Master?"

She nodded, her ears flapping in the air. "Master Fawley has been with Master Barkley for many years."

"Been with," Caradoc said quickly. "What do you mean been with?"

"Been…" She looked at him like he was an idiot, and seemed to be choosing words that would make sense to him. "Been together. As a couple."

"A couple." Caradoc put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. "Barkley and Fawley... a couple."

"There's nothing wrong with it," said Amila hotly. "If you think-"

"No, no, not at all," said Caradoc, raising his hands. "If anything I reckon good on them, I'm quite happy for- Hold on, Barkley tried to kill me this morning! I'm not happy for them!"

"Oh," she said, her face clearing. "You must be Caradoc Dearborn, then."

"I- Yes, I'm Caradoc Dearborn," he said irritably. "So Fawley sent Barkley to kill me?"

"No," she said. "Master Barkley just hates you."

"Oh."

"Why would you think Master Fawley wants you dead?"

"I've interfered with his plans a number of times," said Caradoc, looking at the rest of the items sitting on the desk. "I'd imagine I'm quite high on his list of people to kill. Where is he right now?"

"He's gone to confront his enemy," Amila announced proudly.

"Yes, I'd heard about that," said Caradoc, remembering what he'd been told shortly before coming to the house. "'Eliminating an enemy who has proven to be a great threat to him', right? So who's his enemy?"

"A terrible man called Blithe."

Caradoc jerked his head to her again. "What?"

She looked bemused at his constant state of shock. "Master Fawley has been investigating a man called Blithe for months now. Today he is confronting him."

"No, no, no," said Caradoc. "That makes no sense. Fawley is Blithe, and Barkley works for Blithe! Or at the very least, they have a relationship - for instance, oh, I don't know, they're a couple!"

Amila shook her head. "Not at all. Master Fawley wants to arrest the man called Blithe. He's told me many times. Master Barkley began employ with Blithe one year ago. When he found out he was working for a Death Eater, he told Master Fawley instantly. Master Fawley is the Head of the Auror Department, after all. And soon he'll be the Minister!"

Caradoc looked away from her proud face, his mind finally catching up with the situation. "So Fawley isn't Blithe… And you're saying Fawley is Blithe's enemy, which means that right now...Oh, Merlin."

"What?" said Amila, tilting her head.

Caradoc looked at her slowly. He knew he'd never get the opportunity to apologize to Emmett Fawley. It was already too late for that. He walked from the room, paused in the doorway. "I'm so sorry."

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Blithe sighed sadly, watched Emmett Fawley continue to struggle against his bonds. "I respect your tenacity, my friend."

Arms and legs bound to a chair, Fawley rocked back and forth, still trying to prise himself free. He hadn't tried to tip himself backwards, though. The chair was durable plastic, and all he would achieve was a concussion.

"There are many similarities between you and I. Your methods are unorthodox. Your style is blunt, and therefore effective."

Fawley ceased struggling for a moment, panting a little.

"So similar, in fact," Blithe continued, "that the people who should have been your allies from the start still suspect that you are Blithe. You!"

Fawley looked at him, radiating hatred.

"Of course, that's exactly what I want them to think, but it's still difficult for me. I've allowed you to take credit for all my hard work." He paused. "Until now, of course."

"Tell me something," said Fawley, his voice rough. "Why did you hire Taureau? I assume you knew of our relationship."

Blithe smiled. "Like I said. We're similar. You tell me."

"You knew some aspect of the relationship would get out," he muttered. "Making me suspect number one."

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

Fawley sighed, let his head hang back. He looked up at the high ceiling. They were in a large warehouse. Empty, completely spotless, but for the two of them and the chair. "What now, then? Why am I not dead yet? You going to torture me first?"

"I have no intention of torturing you, my friend."

"Then what do you want, Blithe?" The name was said derisively, and with a snort. "Are we simply here for conversation?"

"I just want one question answered," Blithe said quietly. He crouched to look Fawley in the eye. "Who else knows my identity? Who have you told?"

Fawley smiled widely, a smile of equal parts exhaustion and triumph. "Torture away, old friend. Let's see how long I last, eh?"

"Don't do this, Emmett."

"You should have told me from the start that you wanted me to cooperate. I could have saved us both the trouble."

"I'm not going to torture you."

"Well, it's either that, or you kill me."

"Yeah." Blithe sighed and raised his wand. "It seems I must figure it out myself."

"I think you'll have to," Fawley agreed.

"Goodbye, then," he said after a few more moments. "Our little games these past few months have been exhilarating."

Fawley inclined his head. "Until we meet on the other side."

"Come now," said Blithe, smiling, "I think you'll be waiting quite some time for that, right?"

"Eh." Fawley shrugged. "I give you a year at best."

A laugh. Then, "Avada Kedavra."

Fawley's body went limp just as a door burst open. Taureau Barkley raced into the warehouse, and his eyes locked onto the body in the chair immediately. "What have you done?" he roared. "What have you done?"

"You," said Blithe, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

The face around those Aviator sunglasses contorted in fury, the figure clad in a salmon pink three-piece suit grew closer and closer, and a wand was raised. Blithe knew intent to kill when he saw it.

"Oh, bother," he said.

The jet of green light shot at him, and he darted to the side. Jumped back three times, each time just barely dodging a separate curse.

He stopped suddenly and raised his wand. "Avada-" He had to break off and dodge again.

Not for the first time, Blithe found himself smiling at how impressive Taureau Barkley was. He needed to mount an offensive, or else he'd be facing a very abrupt and untimely death.

Running forward, Blithe prepared to launch a flurry of complex spells at the raging mass of destruction he himself had employed, and one more time stopped short. A pulsing orb of white light raced at him through the air. Blithe had seen that spell twice before, was well acquainted with its effects.

With a few split-seconds in which to work, he worked. Blithe flicked his wand. The chair and Fawley's body crashed into Taureau Barkley from behind, propelling him close to the orb which looked ready to-

Blithe turned on the spot, apparated away, popped onto the street across the warehouse. A moment later, a boom that he felt reverberate through his chest, and through the windows decorating the upper portion of the structure was a flash of white light. The windows shattered, letting out clouds of wispy, white smoke.

He turned, ignored the cries of alarm from the people on the street. He didn't have time to verify the death of Barkley - didn't much care, either. A year of planning was reaching its conclusion, and things would be moving much faster from now on, he knew.

There was no time to waste.

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James sprinted into the Entrance Hall and up the stairs, Sirius by his side.

"How could you forget the Invisibility Cloak?" Sirius said accusingly.

James glared. "How could you forget your bloody suitcase?"

"It happens," Sirius muttered.

They reached the Second Floor, and then the Third, making great pace.

"I know what it was," said James suddenly, grinning. "You were preoccupied with McKinnon this morning, weren't you?"

Sirius scowled. "No."

"Oh," said James in a high-pitched voice, "how I hate Easter break! I won't see you for a whole week, Paddy-poo!" Then he lowered his voice. "Don't worry, McKinny. I'll come visit you every day." The higher voice. "Oh, but my parents won't approve!" Then lower. "Forget your parents, and your fiancé. All we need is our love."

"Remember when you were asking why McKinnon and I didn't want everyone to know?" Sirius growled between breaths. "This is why. This is exactly why."

James smirked.

"Excuse me!"

The two paused, and James looked back.

Three men were down the corridor. James recognized them as the friends of Professor Windstrum that he'd met in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore had since recruited them to join the fight against the Death Eaters, and a more reassuring presence could not have been found. James had walked past them on their way to Dumbledore's office a few times, and he'd found himself envious of how easily they exuded power. Danylo, Artem, and Maksym were their names, and James was incredibly glad they weren't the enemy.

"Do you know where Professor Windstrum is?" asked one of them. He had dark hair, but James hadn't yet matched their names to their faces.

"No," said James. "He's probably gone home already, he tries to get out whenever he can. I think he gets sick of the castle."

Another one of them nodded, a smirk on his angled face. "That sounds like Anton, alright."

"Maybe he's with Dumbledore, though," Sirius said. "Listen, we have to go. The train could leave any time now."

"It leaves in half an hour," said the third one. His face was gentle, and he smiled. "You have plenty of time. Relax."

James looked at Sirius. "How come the students aren't told what time it leaves?"

"To keep us on our toes?"

"They notify all students well in advance," said the first one, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, off with you both. Have a good holiday."

James and Sirius nodded and turned. "You too," James called over his shoulder.

They neared the next set of stairs, and James' lungs screamed at him in exasperation.

"Some of the girls reckon those three look alright," said Sirius.

"Better than alright, the way I hear it. Merlin, put any halfway decent adult bloke in this school and the girls go crazy."

"It's the maturity," said Sirius. "They love a good mature bloke."

James had stopped looking at each new set of stairs. It became too disheartening. "How on earth do we get by, then?"

"You know, Prongs, I wonder the same thing myself." Sirius paused. "Oh, wait. We're brilliant."

"Ah, yes. That should just about do it."

They quietened then, saving their breaths as they ascended the levels.

"What about Evans, then?" Sirius asked after a while. "Does she reckon they look alright?"

"When you catch me talking to Evans about guys," James puffed, "I want you to kill me, Padfoot."

Sirius laughed. Then, "You really need to ask her out, Prongs." James said nothing. "I'm one hundred percent sure she'll say yes."

James had a feeling she would, too. Things seemed so sure, these days. But… "I don't want to risk it. I've ruined things too many times."

"Well, you'll have to eventually. Take too long and your chance will blitz right past you."

The portrait of the Fat Lady was finally in sight. James smiled wryly. "Should I be taking your advice when your girlfriend is engaged?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Oh. In that case, there's no problem."

Sirius glowered. Then he sighed. "Shut it, Prongs."

James laughed.

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Caradoc kicked an Auror in the chest, launched an elbow into the jaw of another.

This was the sixth safehouse they'd discovered in a month, and Caradoc didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. One slip up, one bad day, and someone among the many people hunting him down would either take him in or kill him. Caradoc wasn't ready for either of those things. As tired as he was, he still had a job to do.

The third Auror reared up in front of him, a thin, snarling man, and Caradoc stunned him simply. Looked around. Every opponent was down. Cardoc immobilized them all, and threw Floo powder into the fireplace. Instantly, green flames burst up, and Caradoc wasted no time in popping his head up into the fireplace of Albus Dumbledore's office.

"Anyone home?"

"Yes, we're here," said Anton Windstrum impatiently. With him was Dumbledore and three men Caradoc vaguely recognized. "The train leaves in twenty minutes. What did you need to tell us so desperately?"

"I don't have long either," said Caradoc swiftly. "The short of it is, I know Blithe's plan."

They all stared at him.

"Among other things, I've come across some valuable information taken from Emmett Fawley's office - who is not Blithe, but more on that later - and I think I know how we can stop him."

"Caradoc, what on earth are you-" Anton started.

"No time." He looked at Dumbledore. "Professor, Blithe's got the Muggle Prime Minister under the Imperius Curse."

Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles. "Are you sure?"

"Quite. But we have a window in which to stop him - a window in which we can finally capture Blithe!" His face was hot, and there was ash in his mouth. By now he had done it many times, but he reckoned he'd never grow fond of shoving his face into a fireplace. "And it's tomorrow."

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Lily raced through the corridors, her fear of missing the Hogwarts Express bringing her to a frenzy. McGonagall could not have picked a worse time to have 'an urgent message for her'. The train would leave for London in ten minutes, and Lily Evans was still in the castle. This sort of tardiness was unprecedented.

Alice and Marlene had long since been on the train. Marlene had been particularly smug that Lily would be running late, but Marlene hadn't had many opportunities to take the high ground to Lily lately, so Lily allowed her that much.

She wondered if she'd see James over the break. Maybe that was how he'd finally ask her out. Or, she supposed, maybe she'd just have to ask him out.

"Lily Evans!"

Lily stopped and whirled around.

Peeves the Poltergeist zoomed through the air towards her, and when he stopped in front of her he puffed his chest out proudly. "McGonagall said if I saw you to tell you something, and I've promptly forgotten what it was."

"Peeves," said Lily impatiently, "I don't have time for this."

"Time," said Peeves dreamily. "Funny thing, isn't it?"

"Peeves," Lily growled.

"Did you know time is a social construct?"

She raised her wand. "I swear to God, Peeves-"

"Okay, okay!" Peeves grinned, then frowned a little. "No, I really have forgotten what it was."

Lily gritted her teeth and lowered her wand. "Great. If that will be all, then…"

"Ah!" Peeve's face brightened. "I am to tell Lily Evans that her parents are dead!" Then he hesitated. "Condolences."

After a few seconds, and with a shrug, Peeves flipped head over heels and zoomed back down the corridor, quickly lost from sight.

Through slippery fingers, Lily dropped her wand.