31 December 1979
Of all the New Year's Eves that Remus could remember, this easily ranked as one of the gloomiest. It seemed to Remus that this Order meeting had been going on for hours. At first, it had just been waiting for everyone to arrive. Nearly every single member of the Order was in attendance this evening, with the exception of one reconnaissance team (consisting of Peter, Frank and Alice Longbottom, and Hagrid) that was off investigating a potential Death Eater hideout in Salisbury.
Moody had showed up forty-five minutes late to the meeting—which would have been normal if not for the fact that he had arrived at the Hog's Head's upper room with a deep scarlet gash on his right cheek. Apparently, he had been hot on the trail of a group of Death Eaters and had managed to track them all the way to a Muggle neighborhood in Cheshire. Unfortunately, when Moody had confronted them, all had fled, with the exception of one—Severus Snape. The pair had proceeded to engage in a vicious duel, and Snape had only just barely escaped Moody's wand. Moody was livid that he hadn't managed to capture him.
An uneasy silence had followed Moody's story, lingering heavily in the atmosphere, until, finally, Professor McGonagall had cleared her throat and announced that it was time for the different reconnaissance teams to present their latest findings to the rest of the Order. With that, the meeting had officially begun, and for nearly two hours, Remus had found himself listening to countless status reports on the tailings of both known and suspected Death Eaters.
At the moment, Dedalus Diggle and Sturgis Podmore, the last reconnaissance team, were addressing the table. Using their combined contacts at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the two had inferred the existence of a new Death Eater—a foreigner by the name of Igor Karkaroff, who seemed to be in league with Antonin Dolohov.
"…The two hail from the same magical community in Moscow," Sturgis was saying. "And based on records I secured from an ally at Durmstrang Institute, it seems Dolohov and Karkaroff overlapped in their schooling by two years. It's likely no coincidence that the pair have been spotted together."
"We're aware that it isn't concrete intelligence," Dedalus admitted, looking at Dumbledore. "Not enough, perhaps, to confirm his allegiance to You-Know-Who—but I say we add him to the list of possible supporters all the same."
A crease appeared between Dumbledore's brows and he steepled his fingers under his chin. "I agree with your conclusions, gentlemen, though it concerns me that Voldemort continues to extend his influence beyond our borders." He paused, considering Sturgis and Dedalus thoughtfully. "I believe our foreign contacts will be of utmost importance, now more than ever—we must attempt to curb Voldemort's reach before it travels any farther."
Sturgis and Dedalus nodded, exchanging a somber look, and a pall seemed to settle over the group. Remus swallowed heavily, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily take James's hand under the table.
Then, Dumbledore's expression relaxed and he smiled around at the table. "Excellent efforts, everyone. I think, if that is all, we may conclude this meeting. Alastor?"
"Aye, let's call it a night," Moody grunted in agreement.
Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. Goodbye, everyone. Travel safely—and I wish you and your families peace and happiness in the New Year."
There was a murmured chorus of "Happy New Year" from the occupants of the room, and then, the knot of people seated at the dingy meeting table disbanded. One by one, Order members rose to their feet, either making their way directly toward the staircase down to the pub or else stopping to exchange rushed goodbyes. In the spirit of New Year's Eve, the Prewett twins had bought a bottle of champagne from Aberforth Dumbledore downstairs and were now handing champagne flutes to people as they left.
Yawning and stretching, Remus climbed to his feet. Next to him, James, Lily, and Sirius rose from their chairs as well.
"We've got half-an-hour until we've got to be back at home," James announced, checking his wristwatch. "My parents probably just started setting up." James's parents had arrived at their son's house from St. Oswald's early that morning, arms filled with large bags of decorations and groceries.
Remus nodded, then shook his head in amazement. "It seems unbelievable that we're heading to a New Year's party after a meeting like that, doesn't it?"
James snorted. "Trust me, nothing short of impending death could prevent Fleamont and Euphemia Potter from ringing in the New Year with half of Wizarding Britain," he said, and Sirius laughed.
"I think it's nice," Lily said softly, resting her head on James's shoulder. "We could all do with some hope for the future right now."
"Champagne, mates?"
Remus looked up. Fabian Prewett had arrived with a tray of champagne flutes.
Remus smiled, reaching out and accepting one. James and Sirius followed suit—but Lily declined. Fabian quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Lily, no one has refused a drink with me since last Christmas, when my dear auntie Muriel told me she'd rather die of thirst than accept a glass of wine from a scruffy-looking scumbag like myself," Fabian quipped. "Mysteriously enough, she spent the rest of the evening burping slugs into her purse."
Lily blinked, her mouth falling open. Next to her, Sirius snickered.
"I—uhm—a-all right, then," Lily stammered, reaching out and taking a glass from the tray, eyes wide. "Er—thanks."
"Cheers," Fabian winked at her. Then, he walked off to offer drinks to Edgar Bones and Benjy Fenwick, who were conversing with Mr. Dearborn by the fireplace.
"Hey—Lupin. Happy New Year."
Remus turned around. Marlene McKinnon was smiling warmly at him from the top of the staircase, where she was buttoning up her traveling cloak. Remus returned her smile, walking over to greet her.
"Happy New Year to you, too," he told her.
Marlene opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again, her expression suddenly sad. "I know there's a full moon the day after tomorrow," she said in a low voice. "So, I…I just wanted to say…stay safe."
Remus's jaw tightened slightly, but he continued to smile at her. "Thank you. That means a lot."
It had been more than three months, now, since the entire Order had been told of Remus's lycanthropy, but Remus was still adjusting to the change. It was Dumbledore who had suggested telling everyone, after the Westminster attack, when Remus had confided in him his theory about inter-Death Eater communication that involved some sort of spellwork on their forearms. Dumbledore had been greatly troubled by the possibility of the reverse situation occurring—the idea that Voldemort's supporters might discover pertinent information about Order members, especially information that the majority of the Order itself wasn't aware of. And so, after ensuring Remus's permission, he had disclosed Remus's condition to the Order during a subsequent meeting.
Most everyone had taken the information in stride, though perhaps merely out of respect for Dumbledore. Emmeline Vance and Dorcas Meadowes certainly seemed warier around Remus, and Sturgis Podmore no longer looked him in the eye during conversations. But the Prewetts and the Longbottoms were, if anything, even warmer toward Remus, now—and Marlene McKinnon went out of her way to express support for him. Remus suspected that, as a Muggle-born like Lily, Marlene's perspective on Wizarding prejudices was largely shaped by her own negative experiences with them.
Fastening the last of the buttons on her traveling cloak, Marlene stepped forward and gave Remus a hug. "Happy New Year," she said again, patting his back softly. "I hope it's a good one."
Remus swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, and Marlene drew back, smiling at him as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. With another wave, she ducked down the pub staircase and out of sight. Remus watched her leave. The leaden weight in his chest—which had been growing in size all evening—felt heavier than ever.
With a deep sigh, Remus turned back around and went to join his friends by the meeting table, where they were all collecting their own cloaks and belongings.
"I just sent a Patronus to Wormtail telling him to meet us directly at Godric's Hollow," James told Remus as he approached. "Uncle Caradoc reckons we should head over there as soon as we can—my mum could probably use help setting up."
Remus nodded, depositing his now-empty champagne flute on the meeting table and snatching up his cloak from the back of his chair. As he swung his cloak over his shoulders, he noticed that Lily's champagne glass—which she had just set down on the table between James's and Sirius's empty ones—was still untouched.
Raising his eyebrows, he looked at Lily. "Have you developed an allergy to champagne, Lily?" Remus asked her amusedly.
Lily rolled her eyes at him. "No," she said. "I'm just…not in the mood for a drink at the moment."
"Oh, for Godric's sake," Sirius snorted, picking up Lily's champagne flute and holding it expectantly to her face. "Evans, I know you're married and all, but you're nineteen. I swear, sometimes, you act like a bloody middle-aged mum."
Remus elbowed Sirius in the ribs, shooting him a disapproving look. But Sirius didn't look at Remus—he was too busy frowning disconcertedly at Lily. Bewildered, Remus turned to look at her, too—and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. Her face had turned nearly as red as her hair. And next to her, James was sporting an expression appropriate to having been clubbed over the head.
For several minutes, the four of them just stared at one another.
Then, slowly—as Remus's gaze darted from Lily's maroon face, to James's wide eyes, and then back to the still-full glass of champagne in Sirius's hand—comprehension dawned.
"Bloody hell," Remus croaked. Both Lily's and James's gazes snapped onto him at once. "Lily—are you—?"
"Shh," Lily hushed him fiercely, her face going—if possible—redder.
"What?" Sirius demanded, looking indignantly from Lily to Remus. "What is it—?"
"Think, Padfoot," Remus told him impatiently, gesturing at the glass of champagne he was still holding in front of Lily. "Think about what you just said to her."
Sirius stared down at the champagne in bewilderment for several moments. Then, he looked up at Lily. And then, at long last, his gaze flickered down to rest somewhere near her stomach.
With an earsplitting clatter, the champagne flute slipped out of Sirius's hands and fell to the dingy wooden floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces.
"Sirius," Remus hissed angrily, whipping out his wand and hastily vanishing the mess. Looking around, he found that the meeting room was now—thankfully—almost empty. Only Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Mr. Dearborn were still standing by the fireplace, reviewing some Ministry documents. At the moment, however, they were staring at Remus, Sirius, and the Potters in confusion. Remus gave them a strained, apologetic smile. "Sorry—dropped a glass."
They all raised their eyebrows, but then, mercifully, returned to their conversation. Remus released the breath that he hadn't known he was holding, turning back to his friends. Sirius, whose complexion was now as gray as his eyes, was sputtering incoherently at Lily and James.
"No way," he said in a low, strangled voice. "No way."
"Sirius, shut up," James admonished, casting a nervous, backward glance at his uncle and former professors. "She's only two months in—we haven't even told my parents yet."
"But—you—" Sirius spluttered. "How—?"
"Do you need me to draw you a diagram?" Lily snapped, crossing her arms and giving him an annoyed look. Sirius made a choking sound in the back of his throat, and Lily's nostrils flared. She looked at James. "I'm starting to regret agreeing to name him godfather," she said sardonically.
"So am I, a bit," James agreed, raising his eyebrows at Sirius. Sirius's jaw had gone completely slack at the word "godfather."
Remus shook his head slowly, reaching out and gripping James's shoulder. "I can't believe this," he whispered.
Lily looked around and met his gaze, her eyes suddenly swimming with tears. "It's horrible timing, isn't it?" she asked tremulously. "I mean, with everything going on—the Order, the war—we…we didn't plan for this at all."
"No, Lily, I didn't mean—I think it's brilliant," Remus told Lily hoarsely, and she gave him a hesitant, watery smile. "Really, truly brilliant."
"Yeah," Sirius said faintly, apparently having found his voice at last. He gaped at James and Lily with a mixture of shock and awe. "Blimey…a baby…"
James grinned at Sirius. Then, wrapping an arm around Lily, he bent and gently kissed her temple. "Yeah," he said softly. "A baby."
Lily wiped her eyes with her sleeves, looking up at James and beaming at him as though he were all she could ever wish for in the world. And as Remus watched them, his heart swelling with emotion, he felt the leaden weight in his chest dissolve slightly—and he was suddenly struck by how extraordinary it was, that in the midst of so much sorrow, and grief, and the horrible news that was becoming more and more commonplace each day—death, devastation, Dark Marks—his friends had created something that could withstand it all, filling Remus with a brilliant, blazing hope that had seemed utterly impossible, just minutes earlier.
"Hello, everyone—terribly sorry for the delay," James's uncle Caradoc said breathlessly, suddenly appearing at the meeting table with his cloak slung over his shoulder. Remus jumped, looking around; Dumbledore and McGonagall had just gathered their possessions and disappeared down the pub stairs. "You can all blame me when Fifi castigates us for tardiness," Mr. Dearborn chuckled, his bushy gray beard bristling into a grin. Looking around at the group, his smiled slipped slightly as he took in their pensive expressions and the tear tracks still glittering on Lily's cheeks. "Oh, dear—what's happened?" he asked worriedly. "Is everything all right?"
Lily nodded, hastily wiping her cheeks, and James smiled reassuringly at his uncle. "We'll be fine," he said—and for the first time in a long time, Remus believed it.
Author's Note:
I meant to post this chapter on July 31, but I completely forgot! Happy belated birthday, Harry Potter. You may have been born in the zenith of wartime, but you were a light in the darkness for so many, and you continue to be. :)
Ari
