From King's Cross station, James and Sirius apparated to Potter Manor. Beautiful lawns and spectacular hedges, shaped with painstaking accuracy into assorted magical creatures, replaced the station's crowd of busy bodies and the drabness of the middle-class. As little as James cared for his family's mountain of wealth, he had to admit that it was certainly kinder to the eyes than the dreadful realism that everyday life had on display.

"All I'm saying," said Sirius, shouldering open the front door and trudging inside before James, "is that a one week break is excessive. We don't need a whole week for Easter."

"Are you mental, Padfoot?" James asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. They walked through to the kitchen, where Sirius hopped onto the counter and James rummaged through the pantry. "We get a week off school! I've never known you to complain about time off school."

Sirius shrugged. "I just think it distracts from our studies."

"No, you don't," James said, grabbing some shortbread and closing the pantry cupboard. They walked from the kitchen to the stairs. "You want to be at school for another reason."

Sirius said nothing.

"Merlin," said James, "McKinnon's really done a number on you, hasn't she?"

"That's not why."

"You're going to miss her that much? That you'd rather be at school?"

Sirius said nothing again.

"My word, Sirius, you're not even together!"

"I know," Sirius snapped. "I know that. But I like her. And I know that I shouldn't like her-"

"Because she's engaged," said James through a mouthful of shortbread.

"Yes," said Sirius irritably, "because she's engaged. But I do, and I don't see that changing any time soon. Honestly, the way you lot go at me, you'd think I've kicked a puppy."

James shrugged. "I don't really care, to be honest. As long as this whole business doesn't affect her on the Quidditch pitch, I'm fine with you destroying a relationship."

"Right," said Sirius, wrinkling his nose.

As they approached the stairs, they found Mr Potter being berated by his wife. They were both dressed to head out, and a chandelier was floating in the air beside them. Mrs Potter noticed the two approach and paused her telling off of her husband to give them a hug and a kiss. "Boys," she said warmly, "how was the train ride?"

"It was alright," said James. "Mum, the chandelier…"

"Yes, I know. Your father," she gave her husband a look and he stared at his shoes with great interest, "thought it would be a good idea to 'upgrade' all our upholstery. For no good reason."

"To match the color pallete of the rooms," Mr Potter muttered.

"For no good reason," she said again. "Not realizing, or not appreciating, or perhaps simply forgetting, that this house is centuries old and redecoration is not a simple matter. I caught him before he could do more damage than removing a chandelier. Luckily."

"If you could see what I had planned-" he started.

"We do not need a talking chandelier."

"You haven't even considered it."

"What is there to consider?"

"Dear, you could talk to it."

She stared, then narrowed her eyes. "That's it? You had one reason?"

"Think about it-"

"So, you see," she said, turning back to James and Sirius with gritted teeth, "we've been here for some time."

"I can imagine," said Sirius, looking as amused as ever by the two. "Are you guys heading out now?"

"Yes," said Mr Potter quickly. "Dumbledore has called us away, so we'll have to postpone this conversation, Euphemia, and finish it when we get home."

"Nothing is going to change."

"I think a change of scenery will give you a fresh perspective."

"It won't."

Mr Potter pressed on. "The chandelier can stay put, and we'll see how we feel when we get home."

"You're not even going to put it back?" James asked doubtfully.

"I don't actually know how to," Mr Potter admitted.

Mrs Potter closed her eyes, breathed in, and turned around. "We're going. If that chandelier gets smashed, Fleamont…"

"Don't worry, dear," said Mr Potter, following her. "I cast my strongest charm on it."

"And what's that?"

"Wingardium Leviosa."

James heard her sigh before the two turned the corner. He shook his head while Sirius grinned, and they skirted around the floating chandelier before climbing the stairs.

"I'm going to stop by McKinnon's place later, by the way. Not sure if I'll be back tonight."

James made a face at the implication. "Gross. Can't you guys just play board games or something?"

"It's funny you should mention that. Last week we played strip wizard's chess…"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Gathered in Albus Dumbledore's office were powerful, trusted witches and wizards preparing to deal a devastating blow to the Death Eater forces. Minerva McGonagall stood behind the Headmaster, who sat at his desk, Dedalus Diggle stood near Fleamont and Eugenia Potter, Anton Windstrum and the three Ukranians he had recruited, Danylo, Artem, and Maksym, were with Caradoc by the fireplace, and Sawyer Hughes and Harold Minchum had just walked in.

"If it isn't the men of the hour," said Anton cheerily. "Minister of Magic and his deputy."

Sawyer grinned. "It isn't official yet. The announcement gets made day after tomorrow."

"I am still looking into the murder of Emmett Fawley," said Harold, as serious and straight to the point as ever. "The timing of his killing is unusual. He was in the running to be Minister, and had allied himself with Morgan Bulstrode before he, too, passed. This suggests Fawley was allied with the Death Eaters. But he was killed by a killing curse, so only a Death Eater would have killed him. Why?"

"Caradoc has some information that might enlighten us all on that matter," said Dumbledore. He gestured to him. "Caradoc."

"Yes," said Caradoc, stepping forward. He explained to them all his recent discovery of the relationship between the late Emmett Fawley and the mercenary Taureau Barkley, and the revelation that Fawley was, in fact, on their side, and had been fighting his own little war against the Death Eaters by himself the whole time. "Fawley, more than anything, was desperate to become the Minister. He needed the power. That is why he allied himself with the likes of Morgan Bulstrode. In order to try to beat you, Sawyer, by any means necessary. His methods were very unorthodox. But he was a good man."

They were all silent for a few moments.

"What else did you learn?" Sawyer asked quietly.

"Well, Fawley's house was a treasure trove of information, as it turned out. I looked around, and found that he had documented all he knew of Blithe's plan, and Blithe's movements."

"Who's Blithe?" whispered Dedalus Diggle.

"A Death Eater," said Anton. "Caradoc and I have been trying to pin him down for almost a year now. He's someone who most likely works in the Ministry, and has passed on all sorts of information to their side that very few people should know."

"I was so sure it was Fawley," Caradoc muttered. "But now… who knows?"

Dedalus looked troubled at the idea of a spy in the Ministry. They all did, in fact. Dumbledore prompted Caradoc. "What did you learn about Blithe from Fawley's study?"

"Everything we need to take him down," said Caradoc, assurance filling his voice. "I know his plan now. He has the Muggle Prime Minister under the Imperius Curse, and intends to use him to allow Voldemort to take over the country completely. Borders will be shut, police will be under his thumb, and if he controls the Muggles, he controls the narrative. They'll get the Muggles on their side first to flush us out, tell them we're the bad guys, and once we're out of the way they'll have free reign. There would be absolutely nothing stopping him and his nutter master from mass genocide. With no one in Britain left to fight them, we might just have the first Wizarding world war on our hands."

"And your solution is?" asked Euphemia Potter.

Caradoc smiled. "Fawley knew all this, and made many preparations in response. His first plan was to take Blithe down yesterday. Blithe had made contact with him, you see, and had told him where his base of operations was, a warehouse which was burnt down during their encounter last night. Fawley went to confront Blithe there. Clearly he bit off more than he could chew, but his work wasn't in vain. His next plan was even bigger. He knew of the underground complex that makes up the Death Eaters' headquarters. How he learned this, I have no clue. I was only aware of it after I infiltrated their ranks as a spy. Regardless, as Head of the Auror Department he planned to organize a raid on the warehouse."

"What would that have had to do with Blithe, though?" asked Fleamont Potter.

"He knew that Blithe is going to be in that underground complex," said Caradoc, eyes gleaming. "Tonight."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Lily walked through her living room like a ghost, unresponsive to anything around her. Family and friends crowded the place, crying and talking in quiet, grieving voices. They would give her sympathetic glances, hugs, weepy kisses. Some would ask her how she was faring. That she found particularly stupid. Her parents were dead. How did they think she was faring?

Unresponsive to anything around her. Her parents were dead. Murdered.

The permanence of a deed was her harsh truth. Something done was something done, and there was no reversal, not even with magic. Not really. Her parents died returning home from their holiday, and that was that. It had happened, and no matter how much Lily wished a thing that happened didn't happen, it had. They were gone, and she'd never see them again.

She fought against the urge to break into the Ministry and steal a Time-Turner, save her parents' lives and generate a reality in which she didn't have this awful new development thrust upon her. But that wasn't how it worked. Something done was something done.

And now she had to deal with it. Dead parents.

Lily brought herself back into the moment and looked around. Stood straighter, caught the eye of an auntie and smiled politely, nodded, and-

She couldn't do it, shut her eyes against the flood of tears that was ready to burst forth and hurried from the room, face in the crook of her elbow as she strode to the front door, ran outside and ran some more, reached the street pavement and collapsed, sobbing, tears, snot, moans, and cries of unintelligible, undiluted anguish.

She didn't know how long she weeped, wiping her filthy face on her sleeve and weeping more, for the whole street to see. She didn't care how long, or who saw. Other people were the least of her concern. The peak of grief was the one time she could allow herself to be her most selfish and think only of how much she had lost, not sparing a single thought for others. For someone like Lily Evans, whose every thought seemed usually to dwell only on others, this was a climax of relief, woe, and a sudden surge of all the bad and sad thoughts that every person tucks away into the corner of their mind with the hopes of being forgotten, only to be dwelled upon when next they reached their lowest.

This was Lily's time to dwell. Her sister hated her, her first and best friend at Hogwarts had been truly lost. She'd been born into the lowest caste of her community, forced to reconcile herself with obstacles of suppression and hatred while being scorned in her efforts to rise above it all, and while she had classes to attend and exams discernible on the horizon, a war was being fought, lives were being lost, so that people like her might have a peaceful future. There were so many things that were awful about everything, and Lily didn't know what to do about any of it. Couldn't do a thing about any of it. It was all completely and utterly hopeless.

Footsteps approached, and a figure sat beside her - a figure that hadn't sat beside her in a long, long time. "The neighbours will see you."

Lily wiped her face and stared at Petunia, her body still wracked by involuntary sniffs and shudders. "Bollocks to the neighbours."

A smile with sad eyes. "Even Mrs Morrisson?"

"Bollocks especially to Mrs Morrisson."

"She dotes on you, though. Mum used to always take us over to hers, remember?"

"Yeah."

A pause. "She hates me."

"You said her upholstery was tacky."

"I make no apologies for having taste, Lily."

Lily snorted between sniffs, looked at her sister for a few more moments. Then, "This is all my fault, Tuney." She elaborated when Petunia looked at her blankly. "Mum and Dad, I mean."

"How in the world do you figure that?"

"They came back early from holiday in time for my Easter break. For me! It's because of me that they- that they-"

"All those fancy tricks they teach you at that school, yet not a lick of common sense," Petunia interrupted with a sigh.

Lily swallowed and wiped her face with her sleeve once more, unable to continue.

"Their wanting to see you was only one of the many, many things that led to what happened to them, Lily. Is the killer's mother to blame for giving birth to him? Or his grandmother? How about whoever manufactured his knife? Or the chicken that laid his breakfast? Because those are all things that also led to that moment. I could name millions more."

"That's not the point," Lily said stubbornly.

"Well, it's a rubbish point," Petunia replied, every bit as stubborn, "borne from the irresistible urge to pin blame somewhere, even if at yourself. I'm doing the same. I could have talked them out of their holiday, or even gone with them. But that gets me nowhere. The blame lies with the killer, and only the killer. Someday, I know retribution will find him."

Lily couldn't believe what she was hearing, could still barely believe Petunia was here with her at all. And Petunia really didn't blame her? "When did you become so wise?"

"You'd be surprised," said Petunia, "how much wisdom is in those magazines I read."

Lily snorted again. Then, tentatively, she leaned closer and rested her head on her sister's shoulder. She felt Petunia hesitate before putting an arm around her.

"I've changed my mind about something," Petunia said eventually, sounding the smallest bit cautious. "I want you to be the Maid of Honor at my wedding."

Lily didn't have room for the tide of emotions that wanted to rise up inside her. She simply hummed. "That would be nice."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"So Blithe gives his reports every week at these underground headquarters?" said Fleamont Potter. "Why didn't we do something about these headquarters a long time ago?"

"It would have been a small victory," said Dumbledore, "at the cost of what has proved to be valuable intelligence over these last few months."

"Haven't you been visiting these headquarters frequently?" Harold asked of Caradoc. "As a spy? How have you only just learned that Blithe is there once a week?"

"I wouldn't say I visit it frequently," Caradoc said defensively. "And very few people are aware of Blithe's movements. Most of them don't even know about him."

"Now, however," said Dumbledore, "we are in a position to stop him."

Caradoc nodded. "So what should we do?"

Dumbledore gestured to Sawyer. "We are in the presence of our soon-to-be Minister. I am sure he knows."

Sawyer nodded appreciatively. "We should send a crack team in. The raid Fawley had planned won't work, we want Caradoc to remain undercover for now. We'll simply go in, grab Blithe, and get out."

"And how are we going to do that?" asked Dedalus Diggle.

"I have an idea," said Caradoc. "I'll get us in, pretending that I've captured the other members of the team."

Anton nodded happily. "That's good. They'll have to be the more prolific of the lot of us in order to sell it. Sawyer and Harold, I think."

"Brilliant," said Caradoc. "I'll need an accomplice, too. Someone they'll believe is a Death Eater, or at least sympathetic."

"That's us in a nutshell," said Artem with a wry smile on his angled face. Beside him Danylo and Maksym smirked.

Caradoc nodded. "I'll admit, the three of you do look somewhat intimidating."

"We need to make the bait more enticing," said Anton.

"What, the Minister and his deputy isn't enough for you?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"It's still two people, with four supposed Death Eaters. And if we cut down on our fake Death Eaters, our little team is decidedly less potent."

"Increase the bait, then," said Caradoc with a nod. "The next most prolific is, then, Mr Fleamont Potter, ex-Head of the Auror Department."

Fleamont's business-like demeanor instantly switched to that of an excited school child, and a grin flitted onto his face. "Oh, you've made my day, Caradoc, m'boy."

"Don't think I'm not coming, too," warned Euphemia Potter.

"Of course," said Caradoc. "Catching one of you without the other would make things suspicious, after all."

"A team of eight," said Dumbledore. "Will that suffice?"

"One more, Professor," said Caradoc. "We just want a little more strength."

Almost everyone in the room gave a knowing sigh.

"Is it me?" asked Anton. "It's me, isn't it?"

"It's you."

A wide grin. "Brilliant."

"You still have immense influence in the political sphere, and you've somehow become something of a celebrity to many people. An excellent addition to our bait."

Anton beamed. "We're all set, then."

"Hold on," said Dumbledore. "That will not work."

"What do you mean?" Caradoc asked.

"Do you recall the power structure we established during our first meeting, should Sawyer be successful in becoming the Minister? It was to be Sawyer, with Harold by his side, and in the worst case scenario Anton will take their place. You are now proposing we send all three of them on this mission."

"It'll be fine," said Anton impatiently. "We have more than enough strength to ensure nothing goes awry."

"Indulge me," said Dumbledore. "Let us be cautious. Harold should stay, as the already established deputy. The bait is already as enticing as it is going to get."

"Back down to eight people, then," said Caradoc, wrinkling his nose. "One fake Death Eater for each fake prisoner. It's not the surest looking thing in the world."

"Dedalus will go in Harold's stead then," Dumbledore decided.

Dedalus jumped. "Me?"

"Him?" Caradoc asked doubtfully.

"I'm no-one," said Dedalus. "I'm hardly going to make good bait!"

"Nonsense," said Fleamont, clapping him on the back. "You're just as good a bait as the rest of us, Diggle."

"Thank you," said Dedalus miserably.

"Are we all in agreement then?" Dumbledore asked, looking around his office at each of the figures gathered.

"We are," said Caradoc finally, nodding his head and squaring his shoulders. This was about as well as they could have prepared. "Tonight, we'll put an end to this whole sorry affair."