"There are times when all the world's asleep, the questions run too deep for such a simple man. Won't you please, please tell me what we've learned? I know it sounds absurd, but please tell me who I am." - Supertramp, 1979
The mood inside the Seventh Year Gryffindor male dormitory was heavy and rough. James Potter hung his head and shortly afterwards, began to rub the back of his neck; he refused to look at the ominous Daily Prophet headline sitting on the bedside table next to him.
PEACEFUL DEMONSTRATION IN SCOTLAND TURNS VIOLENT
Peter let out a large sigh as he rolled over to the other side of his bed and Sirius yawned and stretched his arms. Remus scribbled across a piece of parchment and shortly after she turned off the sink, Gemma emerged from the bathroom and scampered towards Sirius' bed. Although she normally refused to spend time in their dormitory, she oddly insisted to be there that night.
"Why the long faces, mates?" the Seer asked. She playfully wrapped her arms around her boyfriend.
An awkward silence hung in the air as the Marauders relived the dark news.
"Oh, right," she muttered.
James huffed, ran a hand through his hair and flopped back onto his bed. The fall jostled his glasses and as he moved to steady them, he felt a large cloud of melancholy form over him.
"Well! Let's play a game," Gemma began.
"A game?" asked Peter.
"Come on," Gemma said as she clapped her hands, "let's have a go."
"I don't think anyone's up for that," Sirius muttered and she sighed in annoyance. James ran his hand through his messy hair again; he began to dread the fact that he was due to patrol the Castle in fifteen minutes.
"What about a prank, eh?" the Hufflepuff asked with a knowing smirk.
"I'm tired," Sirius muttered as he pulled the covers over them. "Sorry dear, my genius is only accessible after a full night's sleep." Gemma yelped as he dragged her into a tight embrace.
"Well, I'm not tired!"
"Suit yourself," he grumbled and released her. A welcomed pause finally settled over the room, but it was very short lived.
"Remus!" Gemma called as she leapt off Sirius' bed towards the werewolf, her every move beginning to shiver with excitement. "What are you writing, hmmmm?"
"Nothing," Remus answered curtly. He stuck his tongue out determinedly as he finished his sentence.
"I know that tone," Gemma teased. She looked over his shoulder to see his work. "It's not school work, is it?"
"You're inquisitive this evening," Remus remarked under his breath.
"I'm bored," she grinned back. "So, is it a short story? Novel? Oh – wait – look! You're quoting poetry in a letter to Marianne, how romantic! Sirius, why don't you ever do that?"
"I don't think he knows how to!" Peter chuckled from his bed.
"Not true," Sirius grumbled. "And I've never done it because you've never asked me to. Are you saying you want -"
"No," the Hufflepuff cut in with a laugh and then lightheartedly put her head on Remus' shoulder. "So who are you citing? Frost? Whitman? Shakespeare? 'Though she be but little, she is fierce!'"
"I'd say that describes Marianne pretty accurately," Peter muttered.
"If you must know," Remus said, '"I'm not quoting anyone."
"Original work!" the girl cried as she lifted her head. "Can I read -"
"I'm not finished yet," the werewolf growled. He protectively put his arm over the letter. The Seer frowned, but respected his wishes. Her eyes flitted around the room and then suddenly locked onto James' face. He gulped as she vaulted away from Remus.
"James!" she buzzed. "You're awfully quiet."
He felt the right words form on his lips, but couldn't bring himself to say them; he could only think about the bloody descriptions, terrifying photographs and innocent casualties featured in the morning report of the Aberdeen protest.
"Gemma," Sirius warned, "leave Prongs alone. He's about to patrol."
"No," James said with a sigh, "it's alright. It's just been a long day." Gemma's face lit up.
"Aren't you turning eighteen this month?"
"Yeah, on March twenty seventh," he answered, a bit confused.
"We should throw you a party!" the Hufflepuff exclaimed. "My word, why didn't I think of it before? Oooo, Lily could help me with this. We … we should make it a fancy dress party! That way everyone could have costumes and -"
"Gemma," Sirius growled.
"Ughhhh," she groaned. "Fine. I'm going out for a smoke. Pete? Care to join?"
"No thanks," Peter gulped. "I'm trying to quit." Gemma grabbed her pack and slipped on her heavy cloak.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Remus asked just before she ran out the door.
"I have my carton."
"I meant camouflage. You're about to walk out into the Gryffindor common room, remember? Just after curfew?"
"Oh, right," she muttered and pulled out her wand, casting a Disillusionment Charm. After the door slammed shut behind her, the room's energy dimmed significantly.
"Padfoot, are you sure she's just smoking gillyweed?" Peter asked, shaking his head.
"I'm sure," Sirius grumbled as he put his hands over his face. "She's been draining her Gringotts account to make sure she has the purest stuff. Merlin, I dunno what's going on with her. I thought she would calm down by now, but her energy morphed into this … perpetual happiness. She never slows down. I've tried my best to keep up with her, but it's exhausting! She has a huge skip in her step, she does all her homework as soon as she gets it, and man, she wants to shag all the time. She does this thing with her tongue -"
"Ah, ah, ah!" Peter cut in. He placed his hands over his ears. "Too much information! Don't need to know that!"
"I asked her about it," Remus admitted. "At first, she said it was just nerves and nothing to worry about. I asked her again on Thursday and she said she had a huge breakthrough – that she was in the process of 'figuring it all out' … whatever that means."
"She told me the same thing on Monday," James confessed.
"Thing is," Sirius said, "I can't tell if this is normal Gemma behavior." James saw him wring his hands together and could tell that he was extremely worried.
"I honestly don't know," Remus conceded. "She's always a bit mental, no matter the circumstances."
"Well she seems extremely happy," Peter said with a smile. "So there's that."
"Yes," Sirius agreed with a sigh, "there's that."
Silence, again. As the other Marauders began to get ready for bed, James felt his eyelids sluggishly begin to close … but he shook his head briskly to keep himself awake. With a slight moan, he slumped off his bed and prepared himself for his shift.
"See you in the morning, Prongs!"
James waved to the rest of his friends before jogging down the stairs. He stopped on the last step, however, when he spied something lying on the ground. After crouching down, he smiled and picked up a cigarette that had apparently fallen out of Gemma's pack; he stood up, pocketed the item and went back to his work.
After patrolling for about twenty minutes, the Head Boy began to listlessly roam the corridors as another cloud of sadness formed over him. His movements lacked alertness and he barely missed a sharp corner as he followed the winding hallway. His spine hunched forward; his feet felt heavier with every step. He didn't know where exactly he was going, but decided to just follow his feet.
They guided him up a few staircases and found a window with a surreal view of the Black Lake. The twinkling stars beckoned him to come outside and James felt his mind switch to autopilot as he stumbled past the Ravenclaw Common Room entrance towards one of the rooftop terraces. The cool night air brushed across his face and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He desperately tried to clear his mind, but just after he felt a bit of relaxation, his earlier despair crept back into his thoughts.
They were all dead. All thirteen of them. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Why did they have to die? Merlin, they were only trying to show their support for Muggles and their culture, they didn't ask to be murdered. After a large heave, he felt his fingers slowly retrieve Gemma's lost cigarette out of his pocket. Although he didn't regularly partake, the Head Boy suddenly craved nicotine. He quickly put the object in his mouth and lit the end.
So why? Why did someone decide that the protestors weren't fit enough to live and they were going to do something about it? Who's that selfish? James returned the cigarette to his lips and unknowingly began to pace. He failed to hear the wooden door creak open to let someone join him on the terrace.
"Why are they dead?" he asked out loud. "… It's not fair!"
James looked down at his shoes as small tears of frustration formed in his eyes. The wooden door slammed shut and the Head Boy instantly whipped around with his wand at the ready, but quickly lowered it when he realized it was Lily.
"Give it here," she demanded, motioning to his cigarette. His cheeks flooded with shame and he lethargically raised the burning object towards her. Yet, instead of teasing him for his out of character behavior, Lily plucked the cigarette from his fingers and placed it to her lips before taking a very long drag.
"How did you find me?" he asked, his spirits beginning to rise as he put an arm around his girlfriend.
"I always know where you're supposed to be on patrol," she muttered playfully. She handed him the smoking cigarette. "I make all the routes and timetables, remember? It wasn't hard to track you down."
The Head Boy snickered softly, took a drag and exhaled. The two passed the cigarette back and forth a few more times and finished it before either of them said anything.
"James," Lily said, her tone turning serious and attentive, "did you know someone who died yesterday? Is that why you're taking this attack so personally?"
"No," he muttered as he kicked a small rock.
"Why are you so upset then?" she pleaded. "Tell me, please."
"It was so close to us," James answered. "It's one thing to read the Prophet and learn that this Lord Voldemort fellow is rampaging across continental Europe … but to hear that Death Eaters are in Scotland. Right near Hogwarts … "
"Death Eaters attacked Hogsmeade last month, James," Lily stated, clearly confused.
"Yeah, but we had no idea that was going to happen."
"We had no idea the Aberdeen protest was going to turn into a riot either."
"But we should have!" James challenged. "We knew he attacked Hogsmeade and we should have figured out that he was going to incite violence near Hogwarts again. He's sending warning messages to Dumbledore, don't you see? We should have planned – we should have prepared!"
"James," Lily cooed. She grabbed his hand. "Calm down."
"They didn't have to die," he said mournfully.
"Is that it then? You have a hero complex?"
He took a moment to collect his thoughts.
"It's just – well," James mumbled as he ran a hand through his messy hair. He sighed and forced himself to continue on, knowing that he couldn't keep back his little secret anymore, not after they fought through the Hogsmeade attack with each other.
"Every time there's an attack on Muggles or Muggleborns, I always scan the Prophet to make sure your name isn't listed on the obituary page. Even if I know you're in the Castle, I have to check … because I know you could be on that list. The people we're up against … they're targeting citizens like you, your parents – even people like Sirius. They don't care who dies, they just want to wipe out the opposition. So we have to stop them. So they don't hurt anyone that could be you."
Lily's face softened; she took his hand and rubbed small circles on his knuckles in appreciation. But the tender moment slowly ended and she let out a large sigh. Even though they always skirted around talking about death and the ongoing War, he could tell she was about to open up as well.
"I know, James," she frowned. "His supporters … they're scared. They feel that the Wizarding World is becoming more tolerant of Muggles and fear their pure bloodlines and traditions are dying out. Well most of them anyways – some of them are just opportunists. And right now, the Ministry is too divided. There is no clear leader that supports them, so they turned to someone they thought could best protect their values: Lord Voldemort.
"They know he will represent their interests. And of course, they want their pride and strength rewarded with action. So he sucked them in and turned the Death Eaters into a semi-religious, political cult." She took a moment to sigh again. "They worship crazy things like death, violence … the mysticism of pure blood, shared mass rituals, collective strength … and of course, their charismatic and persuasive leader who spouts off about honor, duty and the former glory of the pureblood nation.
"And in turn, he uses them to physically carry out his will. He wants everything to be under his control and is collecting as many supporters as he can, from all walks of life, to make sure that happens. He's gathering support – like a bundle of rods tied together with an axe - because he needs it. Because a bundle of wood is stronger than an individual twig."
"But there are people who can stop him," James finally cut in. He doesn't control the Ministry."
"Yet."
"Lily … How do you know all of this? In such detail?"
"Because," she huffed and stared up at the stars, "Muggles and Wizards are more alike than you think."
The couple squeezed each other's hands tightly and quietly hung their heads; James gulped and tried not to acknowledge how accurate his girlfriend's explanation actually was.
"So," Lily started, breaking the tension, "what else happened today? Did Peter challenge Remus to that eating contest? Did Sirius break his Beater's bat in practice today? You said he needed a new one."
"No," James laughed, "none of that happened. It was a rather quiet day – although Gemma was particularly upbeat in our dormitory just before I left. She suggested that you two should throw me a huge fancy dress party for my birthday."
"Well isn't that a fun idea!"
"I don't know. We Marauders don't really do public birthdays."
"What are you talking about?" she laughed. "Everyone knows when you lot are getting older. Didn't Sirius put up some rude banners in the Slytherin Common Room when he turned eighteen?"
"He did," James chuckled, "but on the day of a Marauder's actual birthday, we usually steal away to the Room of Requirement to eat cake and drink firewhiskey for a couple of hours. Just the four of us."
"Well," Lily said with a snort, "I'm sorry I didn't know about your little ritual."
The couple sat in silence once more as they strained their necks to look up at the night sky. James knew that they should get back to patrolling but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to sit with Lily, watch the stars and get away from everything, if only for a couple more minutes.
"Maybe Gemma was right."
"Hmmmm?"
"Maybe a fancy dress party is just what we need," Lily said with a smile. "I think it would lift everyone's spirits."
"I suppose you're right," James answered with a lighthearted smirk. He almost started to laugh when he saw Lily begin to go into planning mode; he'd opened the floodgates and knew he was never going to be able to close them.
"Everyone could dress up as something that starts with the same letter as their first name. Your name is James -"
"Is it?" he said with mock horror.
"Shut up," she growled playfully. "Your name starts with J, so you'd have to dress up as something else that starts with J … A Jarvey! A journalist!"
"A jokester?"
Lily crossed her arms over her chest and shot him a look that said that's not funny in the slightest.
"I like the Jarvey idea," James said with a smirk. "I'd get to spout off rude phrases and insult everyone all night. If only your name started with G – then you could be a gnome and I could chase you around the entire party!"
"I like the letter L, thank you very much," she beamed. "And you've chased me enough in your lifetime!"
After their lively conversation slowly died out, the Head Girl lovingly touched him on the shoulder.
"Alright, time to get back to patrolling," she mocked with a stern voice. "As Head Girl, I order you to give me a kiss and then be on your way." James immediately wrapped his arms around her, carefully dipped her towards the ground and placed on ostentatious kiss on her lips.
"Goodnight. I love you."
"I love you too, dear," she smiled as she touched his cheek. "Goodnight." She turned towards the door to resume her own patrol route, but as she started to walk away, James felt one last question bubble up from deep inside him.
"Lily," he said, "when you spoke about Death Eaters and how they aren't so difference from Muggles … so did the right Muggles win? Did the good ones beat the bad ones?"
"Yes," Lily answered mournfully just before she closed the large wooden door. "But at great cost."
Author's Note: major brownie points to anyone who can identify Lily's bundle of rods reference!