Somehow, life went on.
James started attending therapy sessions, after nightmares kept him awake all night and falling asleep at his desk. His counselor, a former Auror who looked like Kingsley Shacklebolt's younger brother, was patient and kind, but also didn't mince words. After a long, guilt-ridden monologue, where James bemoaned his Auror skills, fretted over the future, and ignored everything that they had discussed previously, Marcus sat forward and said "James, you've got to use the plan of action. Right now, you're just reviewing the mission notes and not moving forward." They worked together, and the session ended with Marcus saying, "Now go out there and take down the bad guys."
And, eventually, things started getting better.
Then the Longbottoms were attacked.
"SILENCE," roared Dumbledore.
The entire room - what was left of the Order - immediately stopped talking. They were gathered at James's new house this time, chaos from the recent move multiplied by the sheer volume of bodies gathered around the magically-enlarged table.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said. He was pale, and almost looked shaken. "I shall speak plainly: Alice and Frank Longbottom have been attacked with the Cruciatus Curse. They are currently in St. Mungo's hospital, in the memory care ward. They are not expected to recover."
A horrible silence fell. The Longbottoms were beloved members of not only the Order, but the whole Wizarding community. Then, pandemonium broke.
"Who did it?" several people shouted.
"Where's Augusta?"
"Where's Neville?"
"Have we caught them?"
There was a loud series of bangs. James snapped round, wand out, but it was just Dumbledore, who had let off several vividly purple firecrackers.
"If you please," said Minerva, tears still fresh on her face. "Do not tempt me to Silence the lot of you." James's stomach dropped. He vaguely remembered Augusta and Minerva gossiping happily before (sometimes during) Order meetings. She'd viewed Frank and Alice like her own children sometimes, though she certainly hadn't favored either of them in school.
"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "The suspects are in questioning now. The Brothers Lestrange, as well as Madame Bellatrix have been apprehended –" there was an audible hiss at the names; Dumbledore spoke over it – "as well as a fourth accomplice; one Barty Crouch Junior."
The hiss became a surge of muttering. Then questions and shouts started flying. Dumbledore let them wear themselves out, before saying, "As I have said. All four suspects have been apprehended. There will be a trial—" James imagined he saw Dumbledore glance at him "–but specifics are not yet known. I personally shall see to it that there is justice done."
For all that everyone knew that Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, his kindly ways made it easy to forget that he was the man who had defeated Gellert Grindelwald. But now James saw a glimpse of his ferocity and depth of magical power and knew that if Dumbledore had the opportunity for a fair fight against any or all of the Longbottoms' attackers, there would be no survivors.
"What's going to happen to Neville?" someone called.
"Augusta shall take him," Dumbledore said promptly. "I daresay she could use company, though."
Several of Augusta's friends and distant relations nodded, resolute.
"However," Dumbledore said, "With the capture of the Lestrange and Mr. Crouch, that eliminates Voldemort's most dangerous supporters. Minerva, will you do the honors?"
She squared her shoulders. "Motion to disband the Order of the Phoenix?"
"Seconded," several people shouted immediately.
"All in favor?"
The vote was unanimous.
"Motion passed," Dumbledore said. "The Order of the Phoenix is hereby disbanded. But friends, I beg you to remain vigilant against the Dark. I fear it won't be long until we are needed once more."
The members of the now-disbanded Order of the Phoenix left James's house one by one, hugging each other, clasping hands, holding quiet conversations. The last to remain were Dumbledore and McGonagall.
"James, I would like to speak with you," he said.
"What about, Professor?" he asked.
"I'm afraid you won't like it. It concerns Harry's safety."
James, as a matter of fact, did not like it.
"What do you mean, live with Petunia Evans?"
"Her surname is Dursley now, I believe," Dumbledore said absently, "and as I mentioned—"
"To hell with her blood – what about mine? I stood in front of a curse for him – for both of them, as a matter of fact. And, if you recall, the highest court of law allowed me to retain my parenting rights." There was heavy sarcasm in the last sentence.
"And, if you recall, I am not asking you to turn him over entirely to her dubious mercies. But you must understand, Harry has been marked with Darkness. It would be far too easy for the remaining Death Eaters to have a convenient accident, should they come across either of your whereabouts. Blood wards are by far the strongest that we know of, and it will work."
"I'm not doing it." James's anger, which had been hot and bright at the beginning of the conversation, had shifted to something cold. Controlled. But no less ferocious. "I am Harry's parent - his only parent. I make decisions about where he lives. I am the one in charge of his safety. Not some group that unanimously agreed to disband in front of my eyes." He glared at Dumbledore. "Excuse me, it's past Harry's bedtime."
He left without another word, purposely ignoring Dumbledore's tiny frown.
Remus, for the first time in a very long time, was rendered speechless.
"He suggested what?" he asked, once he'd remembered the Queen's English again and had stopped gaping like a fish. His voice was very calm and quiet, but underneath, barely perceptible, there was a true darkness.
James knew that voice. It was the same one he'd used on Sirius for two months after they'd almost gotten Snape killed.
"That Harry goes to live with Petunia," James said again. His hands were still shaking. "He said that blood wards are our only chance."
Remus frowned. "He's...not entirely wrong," he said slowly, "but that's not an excuse to separate a child from his father." He waved his wand absently at the dishes, which began to dry themselves. "What if he went to stay with her while you're at work?"
"Absolutely not." He glared at Remus. "And besides, it wouldn't work anyway. You know that the house that holds the blood wards needs to be the child's home. And it's not going to become Harry's home, not while he's got a perfect one already. Here. With me."
Remus shrugged once. "That's true," he said. "I'm sorry, Prongs, you're right. He shouldn't be allowed within 100 feet of Petunia, let alone that bush-faced elephant seal she calls a husband."
Dumbledore sent him an owl the next week. I beg you to reconsider, the note read, but you are correct that you are Harry's parent and will care for him admirably. Please do not hesitate to contact any of the Order if you require assistance.
James immediately set it on fire.
Thankfully, with the decrease in acts of terror and subsequent dissolution of the Order of the Phoenix, James didn't have to see Dumbledore at all. He was disappointed - he truly had respected Dumbledore as a leader and a teacher - but he appreciated the respite. He didn't think he could have a civil conversation with the older wizard any time soon.
Remus had settled into life as Harry's live-in nanny, more or less. James had passed his recertification exams with flying colors and had devoted himself to studying the justice system. He was determined that Sirius's stay in Azkaban would be as short as he could possibly make it.
"What Crouch did was actually legal," he fumed at Remus one evening, after Harry had gone to bed. "In a State of Emergency, the accused can just be sent to prison without trial - of all the absolutely backwards…" his tirade faded into a swirl of profanity.
The next evening, he stormed from the study, in a towering rage.
"Even Muggles agree with me," he said, utterly infuriated.
Remus blinked once. "They're not as dense as you make them sound," he said sarcastically.
James ducked his head, then looked up. "That was stupid of me," he said, temper cooling somewhat. "Sorry. The only difference between Muggles and Wizards is that one has magic and the other doesn't. Doesn't make one better than the other." He remembered why he'd been so mad, and frowned again. "Except for their legal system - look at this." He opened the enormous tome - was that a law textbook? - he was holding to a specific page.
"Here," he said. "Presumption of Innocence, the burden of proof is on the one who declares, not on one who denies. Muggles were practicing this in the sixth century, but Wizards are so ass-backwards that if a Muggle dares have a good idea, it's immediately discounted and rejected." He paced back and forth. "What's wrong with us?"
His tone was broken, confused. All of the anger had disappeared without a trace, and Remus didn't have an answer for him.
The not-so-good news: I have no idea when the next chapter will be available, and I'm going to stop making promises.
the good news: I think this story will be about 20 chapters long, so Things should start Happening soon, plot-wise
The better news: I already have a sequel in the works - I just need to, y'know, get there...
Thanks for reading! Please review :)