The next few weeks of Order meetings were devoted to perfecting the Patronus Charm and other useful defensive spells. Emmeline Vance and Remus had managed to be the first to carry a message with their Patronuses, starting a chain reaction of excitement and motivation. Morale was up, and it was easy to slip into the comfortable glow of youthful confidence.
At the end of the meeting, Dumbledore addressed them all, as he usually did. This time, however, instead of encouragement, he brought the mood crashing down to earth.
"You have all made tremendous progress. I wish I could say that all it would take to defeat Lord Voldemort is a few defensive spells. Alas, a darker chapter must be opened now that you've completed the first." He exchanged a look with Moody, who nodded. "Lord Voldemort has had many years to develop a spy network. He has quite the head start on us, and while I've done my best to catch up to him, more must be done. Voldemort has left us very little choice in that regard. Ready or not, we must begin our campaign to counter the information he has already gathered."
Sirius raised a hand. "D'you mean we're going to spy on the Death Eaters?" The possibility seemed to excite him.
"After a fashion," Dumbledore allowed, not meeting Sirius's eye. "There are objectives to be carried out, and that will occasionally require heightened risk. I'm afraid we have only a limited idea of what the Death Eaters are capable of. I assure you, I will do everything I can to keep all of you as prepared as I can. And many of these tasks are low-risk. Many will be voluntary. However, if I assign you to a specific job, be assured that I did so for a reason." He paused. "You can be sure that Lord Voldemort's followers will not hesitate to carry out his instructions."
Peter felt Remus shift awkwardly next to him; the rest of the room was still and silent.
Well, Peter thought, slightly ashamed. I suppose that he's not entirely mistaken in that.
Despite his doubts, Peter recognized Dumbledore was the only leader they had—the only general against a mysterious enemy. All Hogwarts students were subject to the living reminder of Dumbledore's great deeds. No matter what you thought of him personally, you couldn't deny that his genius had effected change in the world, in magic and medicine. He had made amazing discoveries, and he was the one who had conquered Grindelwald. Peter supposed there was something to be said for a man who stayed alive when so many had died.
"Thank you all for coming today," Dumbledore attempted a smile, but he looked weary. "I will send all of you a message when the next meeting time is decided. Good night." Chatter began to bubble amongst the Order members. "Sirius, James, Lily," Dumbledore added above the rising voices. "If you wouldn't mind, may I speak to you for a moment? And Remus, don't go away. I'd like a word."
Remus nodded and frowned slightly before settling himself in the chair by the door. He was looking pointedly out the window, jaw working angrily. Dumbledore led the other three into the corridor. Peter tried to appear disinterested, but his gaze followed them out of the room. He angled himself accordingly and watched.
Dumbledore was almost certainly assigning missions. Peter felt a twinge of jealousy mingled with relief. Sirius and James and Lily—and even introverted Remus—were all much stronger and braver than he. Peter sometimes wondered if the Sorting Hat ever placed students not just because of the traits they possessed, but for the ones they needed. Not that Peter wasn't daring; you had to be if you wanted to run with James and Sirius. If you weren't game, what the hell were you hanging around for?
He wondered for the thousandth time where James and Sirius would be if Peter had been sorted into Hufflepuff—his mother's house—for instance. How many times had Peter spotted a teacher coming in the nick of time, or cast Muffliato as Lily Evans was passing during a particularly colorful narration by James and Remus about her knickers?
Peter watched the faces of his friends and his former headmaster: Dumbledore was businesslike and unreadable; James had an arm around Lily and looked apprehensive.
Sirius, unsurprisingly, looked like he was taking every opportunity to interrupt. Peter heard a few snatches of Sirius's raised voice that sounded like "—bloody insane—" and "—No way I'm doing that!"
After four outbursts, James reached up and gripped Sirius's shoulder hard. Sirius grimaced and fell silent. He crossed his arms and stared petulantly into the middle distance.
When Dumbledore turned to address Sirius directly, Peter registered no frustration or impatience on the old man's face. As he spoke, Sirius's hard expression softened somewhat. Once, Dumbledore's long-fingered hand moved to rest on Sirius' crossed forearms; Sirius glanced down at the hand and pressed his lips into a thin line.
Peter felt the buzz of curiosity building within him—what was Dumbledore telling them? What was he making them do? James kept looking nervously at Lily, and Sirius's face had shifted from frustrated to unsure to wooden in a matter of moments. Peter couldn't decide if he should be angry with Dumbledore for putting his friends in grave danger, or thankful that he wasn't the one standing in front of those chilly eyes and white beard.
With one last pat, Dumbledore removed his hand from Sirius's arm and nodded at the three friends before turning and making a beeline for Remus. Peter spared a glance for Remus—he was sitting with his head bowed and his hands folded as if in prayer—but refocused on James, Lily, and Sirius instead.
"Well?" Peter began, drawing closer. "What was that all about?" He knew he was letting himself get overexcited. He felt like an annoying schoolboy all over again. "It's not certain death, is it?" He laughed lamely, then cleared his throat.
"Thankfully no," James sighed, sliding his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes. "At this point Dumbledore just wants Lily and I to maintain our home as the headquarters. I'm honestly a bit relieved, but Dumbledore assured us that we hardly got the easy way out. Plenty of protection spells and wards to be put up and sustained. He wants us to learn some old magic…really old. He wants the strongest spells in case they try to attack us here."
"Here?" Peter found that a bit hard to believe. "I mean—would they really? Aren't they supposed to be keeping a low profile? After all, the Ministry is basically pretending they don't exist."
The Minister hadn't even come forward to mention the Death Eaters, which Peter found slightly odd. Sure, they had Aurors monitoring for dark wizards at all times, but Minister McLaird should have made a statement by now…
James leaned into Lily, who rubbed comforting circles on his back. "I don't think they care much whether the Ministry believes in them or not, Pete."
This wasn't a satisfactory response. Peter had the distinct impression he was being brushed off. He assumed a stunned expression; playing dumb usually worked—they expected him to be the fawning idiot forever. "Blimey. What about you, Sirius?"
Sirius shrugged and walked away without a word.
"What's up with him? Is it very bad?" Images of international espionage, femmes fatales, and life-threatening acts of derring-do flashed across Peter's mind. He wasn't sure why Sirius seemed so upset—that sounded right up his alley.
"Dumbledore asked him to reach out to his family," James said. They watched Sirius light a cigarette, perched unhappily on the porch railing. "Needless to say, that idea wasn't his cup of tea."
"Dumbledore believes the most important thing is to use our influence however we can," Lily broke in. "He thinks Regulus might be a target for the Death Eaters—a model member, you know, given his family history. But there could be a chance that he'll listen to Sirius and join the Order. Dumbledore wants us all to stay close to our families; he asked me to reach out to Petunia…" She trailed off and met James's eyes briefly. "Maybe I can talk to him."
They all turned to look at Sirius, who was still hunched on the railing. Peter had only met Regulus a few times; he had been a nice enough kid, quite shy. Peter imagined it would be hard for a little brother to follow Sirius's act. Sirius was handsome, popular, and an unabashed rebel. That only left a few areas for Regulus to excel in, and one of them was, unfortunately, maintaining the family legacy, which Sirius had so elegantly abandoned. Peter pitied both brothers: one had expressed a different opinion and had been blasted off the family tree, and the second brother had the pressure of the Slytherin and Black legacies to uphold; Peter did not expect that was a light burden.
Lily was watching Sirius with a tenderness Peter had never seen her direct at Sirius before. She hesitated, chewing her lip, then walked with measured steps to the porch, where she gently disengaged the crumpled cigarette pack from Sirius's fist. She took one for herself before settling next to him on the railing.
"I didn't know Lily smoked," Peter said with something like awe in his voice. Lily had always made him a little nervous, even once James had charmed her and brought her into the fold. She was slender and smart and intimidatingly pretty, even when she was a swotty prefect. Now she was inhaling the smoke expertly and looking every inch a sultry, grown-up woman, like the ones in the old films.
A tiny frown creased the space between James's brows. "Neither did I."
Years ago, I read an excellent Snape/Lily author called fayjay and since then the image of Lily as a smoker has been burned into my brain. 3
