MINISTER FOR MAGIC USHERS IN NEW WIZARDING SAFETY MEASURES

Daily Prophet, Evening Edition, August 3rd, 1976.

In a press release to The Prophet this morning, Minister Harold Minchum has announced the success of a radical new bill, the Act For The Protection Of Wizarding Welfare, in the Wizengamot. In its first session since the death of its previous Chief Warlock, the Wizengamot voted unanimously to pass the Act, which requires that each of-age wizard and witch in Britain register their wand at the Ministry.

"We do not intend to revoke any liberties of any magical family in Britain," Minchum told interviewers. "But with the rise of foriegn threats to our community's safety, the Ministry has found that no other option exists than tighter regulations and registrations on wizarding Britain. After the murder of the late Albus Dumbledore by unknown persons, this bill will allow us to regulate magic use and ensure no unregistered wizard or witch can use unlawful magic, under threat of fine or imprisonment."

When asked which prerequisites will be required for successful magical registration, Minchum told The Prophet, "A set of at least five OWLs, no criminal history, other such things. Nothing any normal wizard or witch would have to worry about, of course."

With the killer of previous Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore still unidentified, and rumours of foriegn violence rampant throughout the Ministry, this motion is supported by the majority of the British wizarding community.

A ministry worker has told The Prophet, "We'll all feel safer in our beds knowing that our country is being protected from violence by ill-intentioned wizards. I've got kids, and I feel far, far safer knowing they'll live in a world that takes their wellbeing and education seriously."

August 10th, 1976.

Mr. Remus Lupin,

Your return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will commence on September 1st, when the Hogwarts Express will depart from Platform 9¾, King's Cross Station, London. The term will begin Monday, September 3rd. Following your OWL results, each class you have elected to take this year is available to you, and no schedule changes shall be needed.

Sixth-year students will require:

- The Standard Book Of Spells, Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk
- Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage (if studying NEWT level Potions)
- Contaminants: On the Identification and Extermination of Dark Creatures, Half-Breeds and Invasive Magical Species by Nathanial Travers (if studying NEWT level Defence Against the Dark Arts)
- A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration by Emerik Switch (if studying NEWT level Transfiguration)
- Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Blishen (if studying NEWT level Translation of Ancient Runes)

In addition, in accordance with Ministry regulations, each new and returning student will be required to register their wand with a member of staff on arrival to the castle. Failure to do so will result in disciplinary action. Unregulated use of magic on castle grounds is strictly prohibited.

Kind regards,

Professor McGonagall, Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

EXCLUSIVE: Inside The Home Of Newly Married Bellatrix (Black) Lestrange

Witch Weekly, Sunday edition, August 17th, 1976.

Lestrange Manor, a ten-bedroom regency-era country house, sits on an idyllic river that runs through the Hampshire countryside. Stately and rich with heritage, it is the home of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, the hottest new couple on the scene, who were married in a small, private ceremony last week.

"After the terrible violent breakout at the recent wedding at Rosier Manor," Bellatrix told Witch Weekly interviewers this morning, "We wanted to ensure our union would be safe and peaceful. Surrounded by family, of course, but closed to the public. Especially with Albus Dumbledore's killer still unknown… it's awful."

Rodolphus and Bellatrix, clearly enthralled with one another, make a stunning couple. Bellatrix, of the esteemed Black family, holds her family's striking good looks, softened only by the warmth of new love. Rodolphus' Lestrange heritage has gifted him a sculpted physique, robes or otherwise.

"I think we'll get on well with one another, living together like this," Bellatrix went on to say, glowing with happiness. "I work from home for a wizarding heritage society, I have for years now, so I'm good for keeping the house. Rodolphus' work at the ministry keeps him busy, what with the wonderful new overhauls taking place, but I'm always here for him when he gets home."

When asked to comment on recent Ministry affairs, Rodolphus had little to say. "I'm proud to be doing what needs to be done. Whatever it takes to keep wizarding Britain safe, rest assured that the ministry is doing their utmost."

(Pictures enclosed on page three.)

August 21st, 1976.

Remus,

Are you going back to Hogwarts? Mum thinks I should, but I don't know. She says it'll be safer now, but it won't really be the same without Dumbledore there, especially with whoever killed him running around. Don't know what the papers are talking about - what foreign threat? Is you-know-who foreign? Wonder if it was him that got Dumbledore. Nobody saw it, right? How did that happen?

Bloody strange, all of this. Sorry I've been bad for keeping up contact. It's been a hard few months. Write back to me soon! And… is James okay? I haven't heard from him.

Peter.

CONTROVERSY AT MINISTRY AS ACTIVISTS PROTEST NEW CURRICULUM

Daily Prophet, Evening Edition, August 24th, 1976.

Rioting broke out in the Ministry entrance hall this morning in response to a change in Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum. Twenty-five protestors, holding signs and blockading floo entrances, demonstrated for over three hours, refusing to leave even upon the arrival of an Auror task force to detain and remove them. With profane slogans and disregard for the peace and comfort of ministry workers, they only left when apparated away by law enforcement.

"We want to show the Ministry that they can't just throw half-breeds and sentient magical creatures away," one protestor told The Prophet. "They're people, just like us. They deserve our empathy and respect, and the new books on the curriculum, they're written by known blood supremacists, they encourage the murder of innocent, nonviolent half-breeds- this is ludicrous, that they want to teach this to our kids, absolutely ludicrous."

"The author," another is quoted as saying, "He's a known werewolf-killer. And not on full moons. He's a violent, barbaric man, with awful, awful views on blood purity. We can't stand for this."

Much of the outrage sparked over the inclusion of an academic text by noted magizoologist Nathaniel Travers on the Hogwarts set-texts list this year. Having worked in magical creature studies for years, one of the most well-respected of his field, Travers has yet to comment on these allegations.

"It's bloody ridiculous," DMLE employee Hector Rowle told reporters, on his way into the ministry this morning. "One change in one textbook on the Hogwarts reading list and it's like the world is ending. It's one measly book, but people are willing to fight the toss on just about anything these days, so that's that, I suppose. Easily offended, these types are. Violence for violence's sake won't convince anybody."

"We're thankful nobody was hurt in the ruckus," another Ministry official has stated. "One protestor has alleged she was hurt, but since no evidence has been presented, well. I'm just ever so grateful to the Aurors who helped us. Demonstrations like that in the workplace, they make everybody feel so unsafe…"

(Story continued on page five.)

Sirius,

It's been a month and a half since the wedding, as of today. It was the full a few nights ago, so I haven't been writing for the better part of this week, which I feel very guilty over. You'd probably call me stupid for that. It was an okay full, all in all. I didn't get James hurt, so that's something.

Prongs seems in slightly higher spirits. I think I tried to play it down to you in my last few letters, but he's been a bit of a mess for a while, since the wedding. I'm not afraid to admit that, now that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Nightmares and a lot of middle-distance staring. He would sometimes look at me like I might disappear. The slash across his ribs doesn't even bleed much anymore, and we had to treat it non-magically, since none of us really know where to get our hands on dittany with Diagon Alley off the table, so. I'm a little proud of myself for that. Being the designated healer among us, that is.

No sign of you, still. We still get the Prophet and a handful of other papers delivered most days (James pays, refuses to do otherwise, because of course he does). They're looking for you. 'Undesirable Number One', they've been calling you. I think you'd call that an achievement. Still, no matter how hard we search through the papers and who we owl (McGonagall, your uncle Alphard, other adults who seem like they should know what they're doing), nobody seems to have any clue where you've been. Professor McGonagall did warn us not to go back to Hogwarts for our sixth year, though, so.

That's that, I suppose.

From what we can tell, you-know-who's taken over at the ministry. He's definitely got control of the Prophet, anyway, and that's half the battle. It's hard to know how much of the public is buying into his muck about purity and registration and magical heritage and such nonsense, not when we're so far out of the way. My father hasn't come home since the night Dumbledore died. He owls occasionally. Nothing much more than that. I'm worried about him, but what can I do?

Lily's staying with us half the time, too. She seems scared for her family. I don't blame her. She's good to have around, Sirius. I know it was… hard. With James and everything. I don't know what I'm saying. Give her a chance, is what I mean. James has changed a lot.

But of course, you can't give her a chance. Not now that you're not here. We've been theorising for a while where you ran off to, and our answers are getting more and more silly. Lily thinks mainland Europe, somewhere like France or Belgium. She reckons you speak French, because that's in the Black heritage. You don't actually, do you? I don't remember you ever mentioning it to me. James thinks you've run off to America. I think you'd stick out like a sore thumb anywhere heavily populated, so I reckon you're off the grid, somewhere rural.

James has just fallen asleep on my arm, by the way, so that's a nasty case of pins and needles staring me in the face. His hair hasn't gotten any less of a mess, by the way. Between you and I, because as much of a menace as he can be, I don't think he reads my letters behind my back: I don't think he's figured it out. The thing you and I talked about that very last time we spoke, alone in the dorm the morning of the end of term. That somebody was… well. You'd met somebody. Someone bad.

I'm glad he doesn't know. A little glad, at least. I don't know. I've considered mentioning it, when we talk theories and stuff, but I don't think it would do much aside from make him sad. There's also a selfish little bit of me that likes that it's our secret. Mine and yours. Not much is only ours, you know. Not him, anyway.

The picture of you they put in the papers for your wanted notice is staring down at me from the pinboard across the room. I should get some sleep. You were always so bloody striking. I hope you haven't cut your hair.

I know this is shorter than my usual letters, but it's… it's about all I can do, tonight. Call it latent moonsickness.

I love you. Stay safe out there, wherever you are. Remember we're looking for you.

Remus.

One day, towards the end of blisteringly hot August, Lily arrives at the nearby town with an extra duffel bag slung over her shoulder, which James promptly takes off her as the three of them trek back to Remus' house. The sun burns low over them, colliding with the sea across the channel like a great, bright bomb against the water.

"I'm going to stay for a while, if that's okay," Lily explains to them. "I'm sorry I didn't owl you in advance, Remus. I'm just… well. I'm worried about my family. If I don't go back to Hogwarts and they try to find me, I don't want to lead them back to them."

They doesn't need elaboration, Remus supposes. The world feels like a cage of snarling dogs most days. "Of course. It's completely fine, I'm glad you came to us. Dad's got tons of stuff up around the house to keep from tracking, since he's paranoid. I don't know if it'll be enough, but…"

Lily squeezes his shoulder. "It's the best we can hope for," she says gently. We'll have to move on soon, she doesn't say.

James squints off into the bright sunlight, face getting all scrunchy in that lovely way it does. "We should do a food shop soon," he says absently. "If it's gonna be the three of us. Remus' mum is out often enough now that it's not even like she lives there."

Remus swats his arm. "She's busy."

"Didn't say she wasn't! She's just…" James gesticulates vaguely. "You know what I mean."

Remus smiles faintly. "I suppose so. Yeah, we should… we should get food. Tomorrow, maybe, when it's brighter."

"And you're sure it's okay that I'm here?" Lily confirms.

Nodding sanctimoniously, Remus steps over a crack in the lane and looks up at her. "Absolutely fine. I'm glad, honestly. I don't… I think power in numbers works best, if they try to find us once the school year starts and we don't go back. If we're all together, we can…"

He trails off. Fight? With the Trace still on all of them and James wandless, that doesn't seem plausible.

"Yeah," James fills in his silence. Remus loves him. "Yeah, we're better off together."

He smiles at Lily, tentative like the first step into a dark room. Lily smiles back.

She cut her hair a few weeks ago, and it curls tightly around her small ears, barely two inches long all over, bits falling across her forehead as she walks. It makes her look different. Harder around the edges, less like a schoolgirl. It's appropriate, Remus supposes. None of them are children anymore. Not in any of the ways that count.

The white shape of the house grows on the horizon. Remus feels a strange, sudden rush of affection for this place as he squints off towards it. James doesn't like Wales, thinks the coast is haunted. Maybe it is. But Remus thinks it's nice. He's spent his life in South Wales and if there's one thing it's taught him, it's that truly beautiful places take a long time to seem beautiful when you first see them. Youths from this region grow up with nothing and most of them leave in the end, and Remus doesn't doubt he'll leave someday, too, but if one place can keep their souls safe from this war, it'll be South Wales, he's sure of it.

James hums faintly, tuneless and dull. "Nice sunset," he says.

"Yeah," Remus murmurs. "Yeah, it is."

Lily snares his hand in her own. She's got soft skin. Remus squeezes.

"You're okay?" she murmurs in a low, half-guilty voice. "I heard about the demonstration at the ministry, and…" She trails off. "It's awful that they put that book on there. Absolutely awful."

"I'm okay." Remus scrubs his face with a hand. "Honestly, I'm alright. It's… well. I'm not worried about the book, not really. I'm worried about what its inclusion means."

"You think Hogwarts is going to change?"

He nods grimly. "From her letter, I don't think McGonagall is going to be Headmistress for long."

29th August, 1976.

James Potter,

Hope this owl finds you safe. I've been wanting to check in all summer and ended up feeling a little too awkward for it, but hey. Things have changed a little recently.

I'm guessing you're staying with some friends (some magical friends at that) so you know what's going on, or some of it, at least. I considered owling the other Padfoot's Army leaders, too, but I'm already taking a risk with this, and since Lupin and Evans live in muggle-dominated areas, from what I remember, I don't want to draw bad attention their way.

Me and some other graduates have holed up in a flat in London. Most of us have something to risk in this, something that puts us on their shitlist. Lots of halfbloods and muggleborns here, and we've got a girl who's half Veela, too. We're on the run after our little group got discovered the other day and I'm sending out as many letters as I think I can get away with to spread the word: you can't go back to Hogwarts. You can't. Tell everybody you know.

They're locking up muggleborns, not letting them go home, Potter. Flitwick found us to tell us. We're launching a rescue mission to stop the Hogwarts Express on the first, going to try to get some of the firsties off to a safehouse, but it'll be risky. Here we were, thinking it was all going to start and end with the damn pureblood maniac being published on the readings list. Guess that was only the beginning.

Don't try to come out and help us. Wherever you are, stay put and stay safe.

Benjy Macmillan.

(Oh, and, P.S.: I'm sure somebody's told you by now, because word spreads quick, but you can't use magic. Not even when you turn seventeen, not even in the school year. Not unless you're registered. That's what that new law is really about. They're using some modified version of the Trace, we think. They'll find you.)

"Fuck," James says, and plunges a fist into the wall.

It barely makes a dent. Oceanside houses are built sturdy, and thank god for that, Remus supposes, as he stares down at Macmillan's letter, sitting on the kitchen table.

Across from him, Lily is sheet-white, so pale she looks sort of like a ghost. Remus thinks he could walk through her if he wanted to.

"No…" she murmurs. "No, that's…"

Remus reaches out to grab her hand. "They won't get you here. I promise."

"The other students- somebody has to warn them-" She makes a strangled sound.

"Macmillan and the others are going to help," Remus promises. "And Professor McGonagall, she'll try to stop it, I know she will. She's the decent sort."

Lily wipes her eyes furiously, cheeks wet. Then, without a word, she stands up and rushes out of the room.

"Lily-" James calls after her halfheartedly. He seems to give up after a second, taking his seat again at Remus' side, staring at the letter like it's about to catch fire.

Silence brews between them. Remus doesn't know what to say, doesn't know where to start, even.

"Sirius knew," James whispers.

"What?" Remus asks.

"He knew they would do that thing. With the trace." James' hands twitch in his lap. "Remember I said he snapped my wand? And he told me not to apparate, too. He knew, Remus. He knew they'd do this."

A chill runs down Remus' spine, cold and throbbing. "You… you think?" he asks gently.

James nods. "I'm sure of it. I dunno how, but he knew. Somebody told him, or he… worked it out, somehow."

Andromeda's words ring through Remus' brain unannounced. Sirius knows how he thinks, too, and that scares Voldemort. And whatever secret he figured out, he did it because he knows how men like the Dark Lord behave.

"I see," Remus says quietly. "That makes sense."

"None of this makes sense."

Remus links their arms together and James leans on him heavily. They share the same air. "We're safe here," he promises. "We're safe right where we are."

He doesn't share his anxieties, which are numerous; that his father is actually under investigation because somebody's figured out what Remus is, that they're going to know about him and come find him and kill him, that he's going to get James and Lily hurt, which Remus would never forgive himself for, not in a million years.

James either has the same worries, and doesn't need to hear them again, or doesn't, in which case, Remus refuses to be the one who puts them into his head.

In the living room, Lily is silent. Remus suspects she's crying, but giving her space is probably the best option for now.

"How did he know…" James murmurs, almost to himself more than to Remus.

Remus doesn't reply. He doesn't have an answer.

Sirius,

It's four AM, and the Hogwarts Express sets off today, and I can't sleep. Benjy Macmillan (you know him, right? Gryffindor. Sixth year, when you last saw him) owled us to tell us not to try anything, so we're stuck here waiting to hear news on his raid on the train. They're going to rescue muggleborn firsties, he said. He and the other graduates on the run with him.

Lily's awake, too. I can hear her pacing around in the kitchen. It's not quite light outside yet, but the dawn chorus is just starting. James is still asleep. He kicks in his sleep. I'm one big bruise. You probably knew that already.

September 1st again. Doesn't feel like it should be here already. With the wedding and the ministry takeover and everything, it feels like it should be... less time than it's been. Like it was two minutes ago we were leaving the castle, and Dumbledore was still alive, and everything was the way it should be.

James thinks you knew about the Trace, about the new registration laws, before they happened. Is that true? I hate to think what that would mean.

But the more I think about you, and what happened to you, and what you told me when we last saw each other, the less I like what I think, Sirius. I think this much: you've kept lots and lots and lots of secrets from us over the years, and I think you got very good at it. I don't know what that means for either of us.

Peter got in contact again. Did I tell you? He said he's going to go back to Hogwarts, mother's orders. It'll just be him in the sixth-year Gryffindor boys' dorm. I don't think he's got any idea I'm with James, and he's never been to my house, so we should be safe.

Look at me, suspecting all my friends already. I'm turning into you, Padfoot.

James is waking up, I think. Gonna finish this and try to get him to sleep for a few more hours. I used to be the worrywart, but if he wakes up, he'll be het-up for hours on end, and I don't want to put up with that today.

Stay safe out there.

Remus.

The first day of September dawns dusty and dry. Remus spends half the morning making bread dough to put in the fridge, ready to bake through the week. Breadmaking is something he's done since he was a kid and he's not about to stop now that the world is ending all around him.

By the time he steps out of the cottage and onto the porch, the sun is blistering down, setting the ocean ablaze. Across the road, Lily and James have climbed the fence into the neighbouring field, occupied by slumbering, sunbathing sheep, around which they weave lazily as they toss a quaffle back and forth between them.

Remus crosses the concrete, folding his arms atop the wooden sty to watch them both for a while. The sun makes it hard to look at them. Even harder than usual.

James' face is strangely imperturbable, like he's thinking very hard. Occasionally, he says something to Lily, too far away to hear. She answers in short sentences, but she smiles more. When James trips over a rock, she laughs at him.

Eventually, sweaty and red-faced, they notice Remus and trek back over to him, James stopping to pet a sheep as he does. She doesn't seem to appreciate it, snapping blunt, square teeth at his hand and scarpering. Remus laughs at his look of disappointment.

"Nothing going on in that head of his," Lily remarks, shaking her head, as she reaches Remus. "Not a single thing."

"Trust me," Remus assures, "I've known him long enough to know that about him. For all that he's a very good friend…"

"No talking shit about me today," James calls. "I'm stressed. You can't do that to me."

"Right." Remus bites back a smile. "Got it. I'll bear that in mind."

Leaning against the fence from the other side, James crosses his arms atop the torn barbed wire, scrunching his face up. "Any news?"

"Nothing. You know the owls find you, not me. They like you more," Remus says, close to sullen.

"No they don't, they just think my hair is a nest," James says shortly.

"When do you think we'll hear anything?" Lily asks. "You know. About it all."

"Evening Prophet?" James suggests.

Remus shakes his head. "They won't talk muggleborn detainment and school train raids in the Prophet. It'll be Macmillan's next letter. Tomorrow, maybe? He always did have a soft spot for you, James."

James makes a face, evidently putting in an effort not to grin. "Ah, shut it. Everybody did. It's only 'cause I was a shithead. Everybody loves shithead boys."

"Except me," Lily corrects, cleaning under her nail beds.

"Except Lily," James agrees, cowed. "And myself, now that I've grown and matured."

"I still need convincing," Lily mutters, hoisting herself over the sty. There's no heat in it. When Remus catches her eye, she smiles tentatively.

Back in the house, bowls of dough rising in assorted bowls on the kitchen table, they lie on the floor in the living room, the three of them sprawled in a patch of sunlight like sleeping cats. James watches the ceiling, stewing in audible worry. His ribs flex against the yellow sunlight. Lily fiddles with one of Remus' mother's handkerchiefs, folding it in and out and in and out again. Remus does and undoes the zipper on James' sleeve, holding his slender brown hand in his own lap.

There's nothing much more to do than that. If one of them starts talking, it'll just get on to the Hogwarts Express, onto Macmillan and the firsties. Better to let it occupy the spaces between them silently than loudly.

On the mantle, the old clock ticks loudly. It was Remus' mother's mother's, when her family lived up in the valleys by the mines. Right now, it feels distinctly like a cawing canary at the bottom of a coal pit.

Suddenly, a tap on the glass window.

All three of them shoot up, James scrambling to his feet to throw open the clasp. A tiny owl flutters inside, black and scrawny, feathers sticking up in all directions, likely from the harsh channel winds. It's clutching a letter.

James offers his arm, but the owl ignores him, shooting towards Lily instead and landing on her shoulder.

Confused, she unties its letter. It nuzzles her cheek and then totters back off towards the window, zipping out into the pure blue sky.

"Well?" James says, wringing his hands. "Open it."

"Okay…" Lily murmurs. Remus can't tell if she's confused or foreboding. She slits open the top of the letter with her thumbnail and peels it open, then pulls it right up to her face and starts to read.

It takes her some time to get through it. James paces back and forth across the room, in front of the window, shadow blotting the sun in and out. On occasion, he stops to stare out of the window again. Remus just watches Lily, tries to map her expressions, tries to read the colour of her soul through the way she bites her lip.

Eventually, after a painfully long stretch of quiet, Lily sighs heavily and drops down into the armchair in the corner.

"It's not news," she says softly.

"Oh," Remus says.

James sags. He looks like he doesn't know whether to be relieved or more worried still. "Oh," he echoes.

"Are you okay?" Remus asks.

Lily certainly doesn't look very okay. She looks like she hasn't slept all of a sudden, exhaustion pulling at her.

She glances up at the both of them. "I… well. It's from Severus."

She holds the letter out to Remus. Remus takes it. James crowds in over his shoulder and together, they start to read.

Lily,

I hope my letter finds you safe and well. I wanted to send this before I get on the train, so it'll probably arrive today. I've been trying to build up the nerve to talk to you again after our last fight, but…

Are you coming back for this year? We could patch things up again. I swear it. I know I've been awful but I'm trying to change, to be better for you. I don't want to make you sad or cause you pain and when I realised that's what I'd been doing… it destroyed me. I've been trying really hard. I want to see you again.

I know things will be different at Hogwarts. But honestly, since when was different bad? If anybody tries to hurt you, I'll put a stop to it. Teachers respect me. I can keep you safe. You don't even have to forgive me. Just… talk to me.

I miss you.

Yours,

Severus.

He signs off his letters the same way James signs his. Yours. That's the first thing Remus notices, bizarrely enough. Then, the rest of it sinks in.

"Fuck," James murmurs. He looks like there are a lot of things he desperately wants to say but knows he probably shouldn't.

Lily nods glumly. She wipes her nose. "Yeah. Yeah, that sums it up."

"You two fought?"

"At the beginning of fifth," Lily nods. "Well. After we'd started Padfoot's Army. He made some comment, and I… I said he was wrong, and we went back and forth for a while…" She trails off, staring out of the window. "We haven't talked a lot since then. He's tried to make it up to me a lot. I don't know that I'm ready for that."

James nods. He sits down on the sofa facing her. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was his fault, not yours."

"Was it about Sirius? The thing he said."

Lily laughs slightly. "No. No, it was… it was about you, actually, James."

James looks mildly stricken. "What did he say?"

She sniffs. "That you were… that you would always be a bad person. That you were born for it. And I, I can't stand anybody saying anything about birth. About being born predestined to something. So I told him off and he got mean. And I got mean. And then he brought up Sirius, yes, and that was sort of the last straw."

Remus feels boneless. He sits down beside James. "You didn't have to…"

"I know. I wanted to." Lily scrubs a hand through her short hair. "He wants me quite desperately to be something I'm never going to be. The sooner he realises he can't have me, the better."

"I'm sorry," James mumbles.

"Don't be. I'm happier now." She reconsiders. "Not happier. Less happy. But more whole."

"Right."

"I'm okay."

James forces a smile. He's bad at fake smiles, terrible at them. All the same, nobody comments on it, because if there's one thing Remus is bad at, it's telling James when he's done something wrong.

No owl arrives. The evening Prophet doesn't report anything new about Hogwarts, not outside of a footnote about the new DADA professor on one of the back pages. Some German pureblood. Nobody who's ever personally advocated against Remus' rights, so he doesn't recognise the name.

James doesn't sleep that night, just sits up next to Remus in the bed, worrying at his nails with his teeth and getting up occasionally to pace. He writes an extraordinarily long letter to Sirius at around three in the morning, six or seven pages long, the longest Remus has ever seen him write. Remus pretends to doze, mostly just so he doesn't have to correct the closeness between them. When James finally settles down to lie beside him, sunlight is peeking through the window. They sleep then, the both of them.

"Nothing, still," Lily tells them miserably when they pile down the stairs at eleven that morning. "No owls, nothing in the Prophet. They're showing Sirius' wanted poster again, though. No new information," she fills in, seeing James and Remus both jolt with tension at that. "I checked."

"Of course," Remus mutters, shuffling towards the kitchen table. "James, sit, please; if you pace much more you'll wear through the floor."

"Sorry," James mutters. He sits beside Remus and wordlessly, Lily puts more crusty sourdough bread in the toaster.

"I thought I heard movement in the night," Lily remarks. "Outside of Hope coming home, I mean. She's already left, by the way."

"Figured." Remus rests his forehead on the table. "Yeah, James has been up all night."

"Moony," James says reproachfully. "I thought you were asleep? You pretended to be asleep."

"I pretend lots of things," Remus says fairly. "But, sorry. I was awake for most of it."

"It's fine." James shrugs. "It's just because you love my company."

"Of course. Nothing I love more." It's only half a joke.

James Potter,

You're on his list of people to contact if it went to shit. James Potter the sixth year, right? Well, not really. Guess you didn't go back this year. The Padfoot's Army guy. Friends with Black.

Okay, I'm writing lots of these, so I don't have lots of time to personalise. Macmillan's dead. Killing curse from a death eater halfway into the raid. No helping him now. He died fighting, though, so I'm sure he would have been proud. We got a handful of kids off, but not enough. They're in a safer place, for now.

Hogwarts is danger zone prime. No matter what you hear, no matter what, don't go back. Spread the word. Keep everybody you can out of there. If somebody you know has gone back, don't trust them. They're on enemy territory now.

44218FM, Tuesday night, 8-ish. Password is 'Benjy'.

- Your friends in London.

The letter arrives on the following night. After James reads it, he shuffles horizontally onto the sofa and wraps his arms around his stomach and doesn't speak to either of them for hours. Remus and Lily sit at the kitchen table, watching the ocean.

"I didn't know him," Remus murmurs. "Not very well, anyway."

"I'd spoken to him," Lily says. "He wanted to help first-years and the like with bad families. Wanted to offer them alternatives. Good guy, I think."

"James it cut up about it."

"I don't think he knew him very well either." Lily sighs. "I just don't think he can take much more heartbreak."

Remus hesitates. "Your family."

"No contact." Lily folds her arms around herself like she might fall apart. "I made them promise. Almost obliviated them, but with the risk of the Trace… and they swore to me they'd do everything I told them to. So."

"Do you miss them?"

She shakes her head. "My sister hates me," she says flatly. "That's how Sev- Snape and I met when we were kids. She didn't like me for the things I could do. I was younger than her, didn't get what I had done wrong. He was… a respite. Showed me a world outside of the little midlands town I'd grown up in. We were close."

"You were for a few years after you started Hogwarts," Remus says gently. "I remember."

Lily scoffs, lowering her voice. "Between you and I," she says, "Don't say this to him. Not today. But James'... everything… for the first few years… it really got on top of me. Hard not to feel like you're being mocked when somebody like him fixates on you, not when you're used to being made fun of and singled out and othered. Severus hated James. It felt like chivalry."

Remus notices the word choice. "But it wasn't."

Lily shakes her head. "The world is more complicated than it was when I was twelve. I've learned a lot since then."

"Like?"

"Bigotry isn't about whether you're a nice person or not," Lily says immediately. "It's about whether you think people are worth what you're worth. Plenty of nice people don't understand worth. Their own or others'."

"I can stand behind that," Remus agrees.

"I'm going to spend my life fighting to be accepted."

He winces. "Certainly."

Lily sighs. "And even James Potter has the capacity for change, with just the right amount of…"

She trails off. The unspoken word hangs on the air between them. Suffering.

"Not sure I agree on that one," Remus murmurs. "Well. Maybe I do. But I'm tired of watching my friend suffer. I'd take a mean James over a hurt one every day for the rest of my life."

Lily's doleful green eyes wander up his face. After a second, she glances out towards the ocean. "All three of us won't survive this," she sighs. "Just statistically. Wizarding wars aren't like muggle plagues. Their death counts are higher."

Remus crosses and uncrosses his fingers in his lap. "Maybe you're right."

"What do you want to do with your life?" she asks. "If you live."

"I don't know," Remus sighs. "Something with a happy ending."

Kissing doesn't fix everything, especially not when you're lovesick teenagers whose best friend is on the run from a murderous fascist dictator groomer, and your school friends are dying, and your home is under siege and you can't return to it, but Remus kisses James that night, long and slow. James kisses him back, perhaps out of sympathy, lips hot and chapped like they always are. They lie like that for a long time, on Remus' tiny camp bed, waning moonlight streaming in over them from the open window. James' neck flexes under the dull light. Remus watches it and wonders what it would be like to be somebody else.

"I'm going to go to London," James murmurs. "After we listen to that broadcast on Tuesday. Find Macmillan's people. Talk to them."

Remus grabs his hand, trying to drag him back in. James obliges and their lips touch and they sink together, breathy and weak, but only for a few stolen moments.

"I mean it," James insists, pulling away.

Holding the hand against his chest as if he can keep it, Remus watches him from the other side of the pillow. "How will you find them?"

"Somehow." James shakes his head. "I'll arrange a meeting. They'll recognise me."

"And if they kill you? The death eaters?"

James squares his jaw. "I can't keep waiting for the war to come to us, Remus."

"Wait for a little longer. Until we're of age."

"What difference will it make? We'll still have the trace on us."

"James," Remus groans, low in the back of his throat like a growl. "James, not tonight. I can't think about you dying tonight. Please. Tomorrow. I can't think about this now."

"And I can't stop thinking about him."

A knife between the ribs. Of course. "I know," Remus murmurs. "I know."

Eventually, James falls asleep. Remus wonders, for a while, if he's going to spend the rest of his life jumping between being jealous of Lily and Sirius and anybody else James falls in love with. But that sort of self-pitying talk doesn't help anybody, so he cuts it out.

Soon, however, darker thoughts sweep in to take their place, bitter enough to make Remu wish for jealousy. Macmillan, dead. Not even a year out of Hogwarts. Dead. This is a war, and they've all known it for some time now, but wars have casualties. Remus hadn't realised that properly before, not even when they lost Sirius and everybody went around acting like he'd died.

Benjy Macmillan, the one who asked if Sirius was being hurt at home. Benjy Macmillan, with an amicable smile and an ordinary sort of temperament. Nothing remarkable about him. That almost makes it worse.

Because when Sirius disappeared, some small part of it had felt like destiny.

This just feels like a mistake.

As he falls asleep, Remus wonders if he would have even made it onto the Hogwarts Express, being what he is. They probably would have kidnapped him right off the platform.

Sirius,

Benjy Macmillan's dead. The Hogwarts term has started. No news in the Prophet about that. It's… strange. Being in this house while school goes on. Like we're kids skipping class. Even though McGonagall told us to give the year a miss herself, and she's headmistress, it still feels mildly illicit.

James and Lily have gone off for a walk to the shops together. We're out of fruit and tea. It's too quiet in here. I almost went with them, but I've got mid-moon-cycle blues, and I think I'd just bring the tone down (if it could go any lower, after yesterday's news), so I'm staying in the house. They could do with a chat, anyway. I think they're finally starting to understand one another.

In quiet moments like this, I often imagine what you're doing. James thinks it's cool stuff. Running from muggle police and dipping and diving around cars on the motorway on a bike, one of those electric ones that whirrs. I always imagine the worst. Guess it's in my nature. In my mind you're starving in some cave somewhere. Suppose that it's sort of something in the middle of those two, right? I hope so, anyway. Safe and tucked away, I hope you are. And who am I kidding. You're you. Of course you're making stupid decisions.

I say that like we even know each other anymore. Sometimes I feel like we don't. That hurts, Sirius. The thought that we might have forgotten things about each other, or changed too much to go back. It's horrible. Makes me feel out of time and out of control and like the world is moving too quick for me. I half expect to see you again and have you just be… more than me. More than you were and more than I am.

I should stop complaining. You've got lots more to complain about than me. It really is lovely out here. You've never been to Wales, right? I'll take you here someday.

Stay safe out there,

Remus.

On Tuesday night, Lily sitting imperiously over a huge spread of potions ingredients on the kitchen, sorting her meagre stores and re-embalming some bottles, the sun sets over them all a little earlier. Autumn has swept in bright and cold. Remus' favourite season. He tells himself that bodes well as he and James set up the crackly little portable radio on the kitchen counter.

"44218FM," James recites dutifully, as Remus twiddles the little dial on top of the radio. "Four-four. Two-one. Eight. Eff em."

"Thanks," Remus murmurs. Then, "Okay, and the password?"

"Benjy. With a 'y'."

"Thanks." Remus glances down at the browning pamphlet on the kitchen counter on morse code. Hesitantly, he raises his wand and starts tapping out the pattern of Benjy's name. They all hold their breath for a moment.

No aurors or death eaters (perhaps closer to the same thing than ever before) arrive.

"Phew," James says. "Guess that doesn't count as a spell."

"Guess not." Remus concentrates, trying to get each letter right. By the time he's done, James has sat down opposite Lily and is poking at one of her ingredient vials interestedly.

"Hands off," Lily commands him. She sighs, standing up and starting the long process of transferring each tiny glass bottle back into her potionmaking case. "You can have the chair in a sec, Remus, sorry."

"It's okay." Remus leans against the counter and listens to the dull static of the radio. No broadcast yet.

"I'll help," James offers, springing to his feet. "No, honest, I can lend a hand!"

Lily rolls her eyes fondly and pushes a set of steel stirrers at him. "Arrange them by thickness," she instructs. "In that metal pouch there."

James grins at her. "On it, boss."

Remus' heart prickles. He looks away.

Lily has barely closed the clasp on her kit with a sharp click when the radio whirrs to life. A young woman's voice rings through and all three of them jump.

"Welcome," she says, tentatively, like she's testing her microphone, "To the first weekly broadcast of Direct Action, your number one source on all things magical Britain that the Prophet doesn't want you to hear about. Gather 'round, friends - we've got a lot to cover this week, and not much time 'til the death eaters find us, probably…"

"Oh, lighten up," a male voice says, significantly brighter than hers. Remus recognises both of them, he thinks, though not well. Hufflepuffs who graduated last year. He thinks he used to have prefect meetings with them, once upon a time. "I'm sure we'll do just fine, Gambit. Vive la révolution! We've done quite well in keeping out of their pocket so far, anyway. Suppose they're too busy writing articles trying to convince the public Bellatrix Black isn't a convicted muggle-torturer."

Remus grabs the radio and puts it down in the middle of the kitchen table, sitting down quickly. James and Lily lean in on either side of him.

"Suppose you're right about that." Sounding reinvigorated, Gambit clears her throat and presses on. "I'm your host, Gambit, and here with me tonight is my co-host, Lyric-"

"That's me," the male voice says cheekily. "Hi, friends!"

"And a guest of honor to be revealed in due time. Since our list of contacts is short and getting shorter, we haven't been able to get the word out on these broadcasts very well yet," Gambit carries on, "But we've got faith that you, our trusty audience, can get our voices heard. Spread the message! Keep the spirit of rebellion alive. Now that that's over with, let's get into the news."

James reaches over to squeeze Remus' hand very tight.

"First," Gambit says, "I'm going to pass it over to Lyric for some bad-news-first, so we can end on a high note later. Lyric, if you will."

Lyric sighs. "It's my deepest regret to be the one to inform you all of the deaths in our community that haven't quite made mainstream news this week. Benjy Macmillan, Alder Beaverdam and an unnamed Hogwarts first-year were killed late last week in a raid on the Hogwarts Express. While a dozen muggleborn first-years have been rescued and moved to a safe place, the loss of a doubtlessly wonderful student, as well as two brave graduates, hurts us all."

Lily's hand rises to her mouth. Her horror-wide eyes stay fixed on the radio.

"This raid came as a result of new measures at Hogwarts to detain and harm muggleborn students," Gambit fills in, sounding less optimistic now. "While the valiant work of the Friends of London has saved over ten young lives, each loss still deserves honor and respect, so raise your glasses tonight for our three dead."

Two graduates and an eleven year-old. Remus wants to be sick. By the looks of James' taut face and Lily's sheet-white complexion, they feel the same way. The world seems to close in around them and get a whole lot more claustrophobic.

"Thank you," Lyric murmurs. "In addition, we've had word that Arif Sikander, muggle studies professor at Hogwarts, has been found dead in a ravine in the highlands. He's been missing for two weeks now." A heavy sigh. "Luckily, it's been determined that Sikander didn't suffer long, and it was a quick death. His replacement is, as of yet, unknown."

"As for our other missing persons," Gambit puts in, "The list is still supremely long, folks. Standouts include groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid-"

"No!" all three of them shout, James jumping up out of his chair and sending it screeching backwards.

"-Ministry workers Harley Wolpers, Franky Kelpis and Ali Arbutus," Gabit pushes on, "Abeforth Dumbledore, Caradoc Dearborn, Gideon Prewett, Aster Fourpetal, Regulus Black, Glenn Pugs and Micah Hearth."

"And our eponymous Sirius Black," Lyric says. Remus' heart soars from its place in the pit of his stomach. "The undesirable number one still hasn't been seen, nor heard from, since his reported disappearance during summer, 1975, almost a year and a half ago now. However, since our favourite loon seems desperate to find him, and you can scarcely open a paper without seeing his rather handsome face, I think we can take for certain that the kid's on the run."

"Whatever he did to piss you-kn0w-who off," Gambit agrees, "It must have been quite something. If anybody has any information on any of these people's whereabouts, health or, uh, status of alive-ness, get in touch. That includes the Black brothers. Both are still underage. I'm sure their parents would be desperate to have them home."

James and Remus exchange eye-rolls.

"Certainly," Lyric agrees amicably. "And now that we've got the dark and dreary over with, it's my utmost pleasure to welcome on our wonderful guest speaker. Walker, if you'd like to introduce yourself…?"

"I'm Walker, to all of you. It's good to be here," the speaker, Walker, says pleasantly.

James' chair, which he's only just sat back down in, is promptly vacated again as he springs to his feet. "That's Shacklebolt!" he yelps. "One of Dumbledore's guys! I met him at the wedding!"

Remus pulls him back down gently. "Listen," he urges.

"We're glad to have you," Gambit says warmly. "Tell us a little about your work?"

"Well," Shacklebolt says, "I can't say much, but I'm working alongside an underground group based in London - that's a separate one from the Friends of London, who have graciously invited me onto their show-"

"No problem," Lyric laughs.

"We're less focused on outreach on my end," Shacklebolt says, "And more in tracking down and incapacitating you-know-who's most powerful. We can't tell you who's commissioned us, but we're mostly resigned aurors and the like."

"Powerful folks, then?"

"Very," Shacklebolt agrees. "Right now, the most important thing we can tell the public is that if you're not registered, do not use magic to any capacity. Potionmaking is fine, so long as it doesn't rely on wand magic, and long-term charmed objects like brooms don't set off the Trace, but if you use any incantations, even anything wordless, the Ministry will know your location immediately and it'll put them on your map. And yes, it includes apparition."

"Nasty stuff," Gambit says. "We got well acquainted with that a while ago. Thanks, to the death eater who took a chunk out of my arm. I'll be getting you back for that."

"The auror force has been taken over by death eaters and death eater sympathisers," Shacklebolt continues, "And if you're unregistered and you use magic, they'll be the ones facing you down and asking why you aren't registered yet, so drill it into your head: no magic, not unless you have absolutely no other choice."

"Do you and your people think that was the intention of this act, then?" Gambit asks. "To isolate and neutralise freedom fighters, so they can't defend themselves?"

"To an extent," Shacklebolt agrees. "The wizarding registry can be changed at any time, and names taken off, so it also guarantees that you-know-who can track down any defectors. And most importantly, it lets them decide who can and can't live in the wizarding world. We've already caught wind of various half-breeds being denied registry-"

Remus' stomach goes cold. Of course. You expected this.

"-And muggleborns, of course, too. Halfbloods have, for the most part, gotten a pass, though that might be due to change in the imminent future, so if you're an unregistered halfblood, get out there and get your name on their papers."

"It's barbaric," Lyric murmurs. "Outside of specifically anti-Dark Lord spheres such as the ones we move in, Walker, has there been much protest to this new registration regime?"

"Not that I've heard of," Shacklebolt says forebodingly. "For most families, it's a trip to the ministry and then away-we-go, I suppose. Doesn't change their lives much."

"And for empathy?"

"Not much of that to spare these days," Shacklebolt says.

"Aye to that," Gambit agrees. "Let's hope we can stir up a little more of it with Direct Action."

"I've the most faith that you can," Shacklebolt encourages.

"Thank you, Walker," Gambit says. "With that, we'll need to bring tonight's show to an end soon, but did you have anything you wanted to say to anybody out there who might be on the run? Losing family, losing their homes? Lord knows there's lots of that about right now."

"Sure," Shacklebolt says. His voice goes hard and serious. "Keep your loved ones close and don't trust anybody you don't know for sure is on your side. Remember that complicity is violence, in this case, and being neutral on this war, trying not to take sides, will get innocent people killed. Trust your instincts. Resist the power. Remember empathy."

"That's the spirit," Lyric encourages.

"And to the undesirable number one," Shacklebolt continues. "We're looking for you. You're a brave kid, from what we know, so no doubt you're keeping yourself alive just fine, but remember that you're not alone."

"Wise words from Walker there," Gambit concludes. "Thank you again, mate, for coming on to talk to us. It was great to have you. We're rounding this week to a close now, but keep your heads up, take care of one another, and remember - your brothers and sisters are not your enemy, don't treat them like they are. Goodnight, folks! Next week's password is 'Regulus'."

Sirius,

TWO resistance groups in London. TWO! One of them is called the 'Friends of London', a group of graduates and muggleborns hiding out from the registry. They've started a radio show, it's called 'Direct Action' and it's wonderful, Sirius, and I hope you're listening to it, wherever you are, because they talked about you, they wished you luck, told you they're going to find you, how amazing is that?

It wasn't all good news. Your brother's still missing (still at Durmstrang, I suppose) and so is Hagrid, and some others. But I think it really lifted all of our spirits, to have that connection to the resistance. James wants to go running off to London right now. I've managed to convince him to stay here until the next full moon, and after that, we can… make some decisions, I suppose.

They had a guest speaker on - Kingsley Shacklebolt! Apparently he's working for another group, a commission of retired aurors and the like working on hunting and killing death eaters. How amazing is that? James reckons McGonagall is behind it. I think it's probably more likely to be Alastor Moody. My dad told me that guy's crazy.

I can't write for long. The three of us are still talking over theories and such. I'm just so… so much less alone, it feels like, now. It all feels more real, but it feels less like it's just me fighting this war on my own, y'know?

Stay safe out there. One of these days, we're going to find you.

Remus.

Two nights later, Remus' dad comes home.

James and Lily are already asleep, both of them hogging Remus' single bed up in his room after they fell asleep there talking, and Remus has resigned himself to sleeping on the sofa in the living room when he hears the key in the lock and his dad steps inside, mum right behind him, both of them sallow-faced and tired.

"Dad," Remus says breathlessly, jumping up from the sofa. He runs to him and gives him a hug. "You're okay?"

Dad hugs him back gently. "I'm alright," he says, not sounding it. "Been lodging at the ministry for the past few weeks to keep them from following me home. They don't know…" He trails off. "Well. I'm keeping my job."

"What's going on?"

Dad sighs. He sits Remus down on the sofa and kneels in front of him. "Your mother," he says tentatively, "Is going to be… staying with family for a little while. In North Wales. Okay?"

"Why?" Remus asks.

"Because if my colleagues find out I've married a muggle…" Dad shakes his head. "I don't want either of you in danger, so that's just how it's going to be, I suppose."

"Okay," Remus says, confused and overwhelmed.

Behind dad, mum's face is teary, eyes red and puffy. When Remus catches her gaze, she looks away.

"Thankfully," Dad carries on, "They don't know about you, yet, either, so…"

"So?" Remus asks.

Dad's eyes flicker away from his face like he can't look at Remus. "So," he says gently, "I think it'd be best if you stayed with a friend elsewhere for a while. Just until all this calms down."

"What?" Remus asks, uncomprehendingly.

"Remus, please don't make this harder than it needs to be-"

Mum lets out a strangled sob. "John, if anybody's making this hard-"

He whirls around to face her. "If I lose my job, they'll snap my wand, they'll take me off the register!"

"Are me and your son not worth your magic?!" mum shouts back at him. "I thought we mattered to you!"

"This won't be forever- it's just for a while-"

But Remus is on his feet now, too. "They won't follow you home, dad. You could… you could fidelius the place. You could do something. Anything." Don't make me leave, he doesn't say out loud. Please don't make me leave.

"I'm sorry, but there's no other way-"

Mum rakes a hand through her tangled blonde hair, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then, without a word, she storms back outside, slamming the door behind her.

"Hope!" John calls after her, getting up and hurrying out behind her and leaving Remus alone in the middle of the living room, swaying on his feet as the waves crash distantly outside. As the sounds of his home swell around him, he feels more alone, more weightless, than he's ever felt in his life.

Shell-shocked, Remus pulls himself together and pads to the stairs, which wind up to the floor above. Around the corner, James and Lily are sitting side-by-side on the top step, looking down at him, their dimly lit faces bright with concern.

"We're going to London," Remus says, after a moment. "Dad wants us out of here, as soon as we can be, I think. We should pack."

"Remus…" James says, then seems to realise he's got nothing much he can say at all. "Are you alright?"

"Tired," Remus admits. "Really tired."

"We can come back here," Lily offers. "Find a new place. Once things have…"

But things won't. Not for a long time. And all of them know it.

Remus shakes his head. "Come on. We should get our stuff. The sooner we're out of his hair, the better."

"Right." James reaches out to hug him right, the both of them half-sitting against the top step. "You've got us, Moony."

"I know." Remus doesn't hug back. "Come on. I don't want to… come on."

James obeys. Lily squeezes Remus' arm on her way past him to the living room, to pack up her own stuff. Remus wonders if London is going to feel haunted to James, too.