Of Arrogant Toerags and Rabid Redheads

by messenger of home-baked pie

James and Lily are polar opposites, yet exactly the same. One a Marauder, the other a Prefect, both brilliant and marvellous in their own right. Both, as Sirius Black might put it, complete idiots. Lily Evans finds herself inexplicably drawn to a changing James Potter. James finds it impossible to draw himself away from her. They were as similar and different as a stag and a doe.

34. No Rest for the Wicked

"I had another one last night," said Lily.

She and James sat on a couch by the fireplace at about three in the morning. They were opening and categorizing all the mail that had arrived at Potter Manor while they had been in Germany. It had been over a week since they had returned, and somehow they were barely halfway through. This was due in part to the fact that James still hadn't finished settling the estate since his parents had died.

"A nightmare?" James asked.

"Yeah," she said, tossing aside a letter from a Mrs Coddlewump claiming to be a long-lost relative of the Potters and demanding thirty thousand galleons. "It was of Acustus. With his throat…"

"Ripped out," said James. "Yeah. I had one of those the other day. I don't think I'll ever be able to get the image out of my mind."

"Are you still having the ones of Voldemort?"

James nodded grimly. "Yeah. He- He doesn't look human, Lily. And he could have killed us. He had us. If Dumbledore hadn't shown up, we were dead."

Lily watched him closely, realizing that this boy, who lived his life like there was no tomorrow, had finally realized that he wasn't immortal.

She scooted along the couch towards him, he lifted his arm and pulled her closer in, and she rested her head on his chest. He squeezed her tight, and she tried to squeeze him tighter.

He seemed to grow some more each day she was around him. She seemed to love him more in equal measure.

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Remus frowned at the newspaper in his hands, his breakfast, eggs on toast, getting cold on the table in front of him.

He frowned specifically at an advertisement at the bottom of one of the back pages that read,

Werewolf Support Group, mix and mingle - snacks provided.

He'd never heard of any such group before. He couldn't believe the Daily Prophet had even accepted the advertisement. The idea of supporting werewolves was such a foreign concept to wizarding society. Whichever werewolves had put together this group must either be extremely brave, or extremely stupid.

The only question was, was Remus going to attend?

Since the slaughter of Garzhand's pack a week ago in Berlin, Remus had been feeling more alone than ever before. This would surely be good for him, to find another avenue to receive the understanding and relatability he needed from a fellow werewolf.

"What are you reading?" asked his mom, walking into the kitchen.

Remus turned his attention back to his breakfast, picking up his fork and knife and digging into the cold eggs. "Advertisements."

She leaned over to peer at the newspaper. "Girls for hire?"

"Um…"

"You can't be serious."

"No."

"Good. You attend the most magical school in the world. And it's co-ed. The things we got up to in my day… well, I'll spare you the details and advise you to try not to touch the inside of the broom cupboards, if you know what I mean."

Remus almost threw up his cold eggs.

"So which advertisement are you looking at so closely?" she said, walking over to the sink and pouring a glass of water.

"Um…" Remus couldn't tell her he was looking at the Werewolf Support Group. He didn't know how exactly she'd react, he just knew it wouldn't be in a way that was favorable to him. She always started acting strangely when Remus' condition was brought up. He couldn't pinpoint the exact emotions that would cross her face, but it was a mixture of sadness, pity, and anger, the latter likely saved for herself or Remus' father. Regardless, he didn't want to explore any of it.

He didn't want to talk about it with her at all. It saddened him briefly, as it always did, that even his parents couldn't truly understand what and who he was. As usual though, he shook the familiar feeling away. "Gobstones club."

She made a face. "Gobstones club? Don't they have one at Hogwarts?" "Yeah, but they're all a bit weird in that club."

She nodded. "Gobstones club is where all the kids with no friends go to find some."

It occurred to Remus that if it weren't for James, Sirius, and Peter, that could easily have been him. His mother's and father's experience at Hogwarts had been extremely different from his own. They had been more like James, and Lily. Friends came easy to them, and heads turned their way when they walked through the corridor. As such a close friend of James, Remus was more hyper-aware of this than anyone. "Yeah," said Remus slowly. "So that's why I want to join a Gobstones club, erm, outside of school."

"Right," said his mother. "I'll be honest, Remus, if you think the club members at Hogwarts are weird, you'll be in for a nasty surprise when you see the ones who turn up to a club advertised on the last page of the Daily Prophet."

At that, Remus had to concede that she had a point.

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Marlene and the entire extended McKinnon family were gathered in the sitting room. Little cousins played on the floor. Older cousins stood in the back looking disinterested. Uncles and aunts sat on armchairs scattered around the room while Marlene and her parents sat on the couch closest to the fireplace.

Every eye in the room was focussed on the fireplace. The future of the McKinnon name, fortune, and legacy was in the hands of the person they were all expecting to step through the fireplace in an imminent burst of green flames.

Will Ärger, Marlene's fiancé, was due to arrive at any moment.

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"How's it going?" asked Alice, entering Frank's room without knocking.

He was sitting at his desk, frowning in concentration. She kissed him on the check as she passed him, and dropped onto his bed.

"It's not fun," said Frank, not looking away from the textbook in front of him. "You know, when I graduated Hogwarts I thought that meant I was done studying."

He was preparing for his Auror entrance exam. There were only a few days left before thousands of hopeful applicants would be sitting in an auditorium in the Ministry to take the exam, and only the top five percent of examinees were taken into the Auror training program. Frank was taking it very seriously.

"Well, you have to work hard for the things you want," said Alice.

Frank turned to her with narrowed eyes. "Did my mum tell you to say that?"

"The moment she opened the front door for me, yes."

Frank sighed and turned back to his textbook. "Tell her, for the hundredth time, that I am well aware, and I'm doing my best."

"Sure thing, hon'." Alice stood up and came over to pat him on the shoulder. "I'll leave you to it."

"Wait, don't go," said Frank, turning to look up at her with wide eyes.

"Sorry," said Alice, laughing at the look on his face. "I'm only stopping by, I'm headed to Marlene's. Lily and I are going over to keep her company and lend emotional support."

"What for?"

"Oh, did I forget to tell you? Will's coming. He and his family and some friends, they're coming all the way from Poland."

"Will… as in the Will that Marlene is going to marry?"

"The very same."

"Can I come?" he said immediately.

"You," she said, tapping his nose, "said you were going to spend the whole day studying."

"But I want to see how this goes," he whined. "It sounds so exciting."

"You'll hear all about it at dinner, don't worry."

They had all organized a dinner for that night, Frank, Alice, Marlene, Lily, James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus. They hadn't all gotten together, not all of them, since they had left Berlin, and it wasn't often that all their schedules aligned.

"It won't be the same to just hear about it," Frank complained.

"Are you doubting my storytelling skills?"

"Um… no."

"Good," she said, turning to leave. "I could describe grass growing to you, Longbottom, and I'd have you enraptured and waiting on my every word."

As he heard her descending the stairs, he let out a breath. "I forget sometimes that she dated James Potter for a while there," he said to no one in particular.

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While standing on the doorstep of McKinnon Manor, it occurred to Lily once again just how big Potter Manor was. She had once found Marlene's home to be the pinnacle of wizarding decadence and splendor. But, having lived weeks, months now, in the home of James Potter, everything else seemed watered down in comparison.

She remembered Marlene commenting on how the Mckinnons were far from the highest echelon of Pureblood families, and Lily could now see that disparity between the two homes.

A disparity so wide, Lily realized sadly, that it had forced the McKinnons into the system of marriage arrangement. Marlene's parents had been engaged from the day they were born, as Marlene had been. All so they could keep what little semblance of nobility they still possessed, and hopefully even replenish it simply by association with the family of the groom.

Lily was shaken from her depressing musings by Alice pushing open the front door, and she followed her friend inside.

The two girls were greeted by utter chaos.

The foyer - not as big as Lily remembered - was filled with little blonde children playing and running around… only not in a cute way. They hung from the chandelier, climbed bookcases, and shot jets of light at each other out of wands that Lily was sure was illegal for them to even be holding.

"Finally!" Marlene came running down a staircase. "Took you long enough."

"Mar," said Lily, unable to look away from the children, "shouldn't someone take those wands away from them?"

"Oh," Marlene waved a hand, "underage magic laws are different in Poland."

"Okay," said Lily slowly, flinching slightly as a spell streaked past her head, "but they're not in Poland right now."

"They get some sort of exemption from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Department of Magical Transportation, it's a whole lot of words and jargon and clauses and not, funnily enough, why I've asked you guys to be here today."

"Right," said Lily, nodding. "Okay, family of the groom."

"And the groom himself," added Alice. "Is he here? Can we meet him?"

"Yes, you may," said Marlene primly, turning around. "Follow me."

Lily and Alice ran up the staircase to catch up with her.

"Oh my god, I'm so excited," squealed Alice.

"Don't be weird, okay?" said Marlene.

"I wouldn't dare," said Alice solemnly.

"He's already had a giant's share of weirdness dumped on him already," Marlene explained as they reached the top of the staircase and walked down a hall. "My aunt gave him a two hour lecture of her view on the Magical and Muggle integration reform crisis going on in Poland right now - surprising absolutely no one, she's vehemently against it - and then the rest of the family gets involved, lecturing these Polish people on their own Polish politics. It's like… Lily, can you imagine if I tried lecturing you about libraries?"

Lily frowned. "What am I, the Prime Minister of Libraries?"

Marlene shook her head. "You don't get it. And then one of Will's uncles comments on a painting we have in the sitting room, you know the ugly one with the boats?"

"Are you talking about the painting or the uncle?" asked Alice.

"The painting, Alice." Marlene rolled her eyes. "Anyway. He says something about the painting being ugly, and it is of course, but that's kind of rude to say, right? But my parents freak out, they take the painting down immediately and apologize and throw it out the window, you might have seen it on the lawn when you came in - and you know I'd never seen my parents apologize before? And then they ask if there's anything else that should be taken down, and this uncle of Will's is of course too happy to oblige, he starts pointing out everything he doesn't like about the bloody house and my parents are going along with it, taking things down and moving things around, and then do you know what Will's mother asks?"

Lily glanced at Alice, who shrugged. "I don't know," said Lily

"She asks my parents why they don't just fetch a House-elf to do all this work for them."

Lily winced.

"Obviously we don't have House-elves anymore, my dad's side had to sell them and when my mom married into the McKinnon family she wasn't permitted by the rest of the Parkinsons to bring over any wealth or assets-"

"Your mum is a Parkinson?" Lily asked.

"Have I never mentioned that? She was a bit of an outcast with them from the day she was sorted into Gryffindor."

"Sounds familiar," said Alice quietly.

Marlene ignored this very obvious reference to Sirius Black, a name that Lily felt would be extremely inappropriate to utter around Marlene on the day she met her fiancé's family. "Anyway," said Marlene loudly. "My parents are standing there trying to find a way to describe being poor-"

"I wouldn't call all this being poor, Mar," said Lily, casting a glance at the high ceiling and expensive paintings adorning the walls of the long hall.

"Poor by snotty, stuck-up Pureblood standards, I mean," said Marlene. "But as my parents are opening and closing their mouths like goldfish, Will intervenes and says he likes arranging his things by hand instead of getting House-elves to do it, because it adds a personal touch. And then he says that he thinks everything in this house looks great the way it is. He's such a saint."

"He sounds lovely, Mar," said Alice warmly.

"He is." Marlene smiled for a second. Then it turned into a scowl. "I just hope my batshit crazy family doesn't scare him away. They're legitimately insane. Anyway, we're here."

She opened a door on their left, and led them into the sitting room. It was a large room, and inside were dozens of adults chatting idly, or laughing, or looking around.

Marlene led Lily and Alice through the crowd towards a tall, blond boy whose face lit up as Marlene approached.

"Lily, Alice, I would like you to meet Will, my fiancé."

"It's lovely to finally meet you both," said Will, shaking both girls' hands. "I've heard so much about you."

"Likewise," said Alice. "This is long overdue."

"Hopefully we'll have some time to get to know you before the wedding in January," added Lily enthusiastically.

"January," Will repeated, turning to Marlene. "If I could, I'd marry you tomorrow."

Marlene blushed, Will smiled earnestly, and the two kissed.

Lily watched them both, biting a lip and smiling. He seemed to genuinely love her. The look in his eyes reminded Lily of how her father had looked at her mother, or even how James would- Stop, she had to tell herself. You're living with James, relying on him for a place to stay. Don't complicate things, not even in your head. Not yet.

Regardless, Lily's heart was warmed by what she saw between Will and Marlene. There was genuine affection there, she could see it plainly. They both seemed happy, at least for the moment.

Perhaps this engagement wasn't such a bad idea after all.

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"I can't help but hope that he turns out to be secretly evil," said Sirius, throwing the Quaffle hard. James let out a surprised laugh, almost fumbling the Quaffle when it came to him. "What, and you'll catch him in the act of some dastardly deed, and that will prove to Marlene that she can't marry him?

"Something like that."

The two were perched on broomsticks, high up in the air over the grounds of Potter Manor. Past the hedges and the sculptures there was a field, perhaps three quarters the size of a regulation Quidditch pitch, with makeshift hoops on either end. James had practiced on it since he was a toddler, and he and Sirius would often throw a Quaffle around it when there was nothing else to do.

James threw the Quaffle back to Sirius. "I don't see the odds of that as particularly high unfortunately, Padfoot."

"We could frame him."

"What?"

"Frame him. For murder or something."

"Merlin's beard, Sirius."

"What? Marlene has admitted to me she doesn't love him. We'd be doing them both a favor."

"You can't frame a man for murder just because he stole your unofficial girlfriend."

Sirius tossed the Quaffle up in the air and caught it again. "He didn't steal her from me."

"No, you're right. In fact, one could argue that you tried stealing her from him."

Sirius glared. "Whose side are you on?"

"The side where we don't frame a man for murder just because he stole your girl."

"Stop saying it like that," Sirius muttered.

"Why? Because it sounds bad? Because it doesn't paint the whole picture?"

Sirius angled his broom downwards and began descending, his gaze downcast. "Because it's true."

James hung in the air for a moment, watching Sirius descend, unable to do a thing to help him.

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Peter sat at his desk in his room and contemplated his own uselessness. It was a favorite pastime of his.

During the trip to Germany, his friends had all done brilliant and daring things. Peter, Sirius, and Marlene had been in charge of keeping an eye on Remus and the werewolves, and Sirius and Marlene had risen to the occasion admirably. They were the type of people to rise to everything admirably. Peter wasn't sure he'd done anything admirable in his life.

For this mission, he'd effectively been a passenger on the ride, letting them do all the work while he served as an accessory, surplus to requirements, about as crucial and helpful as the appendix to the human body.

"Admirable." Peter said the word aloud as if it were from a foreign language. What could he do to live his life more admirably? What could he change?

As was always the case, when Peter needed inspiration he thought of his friends. They were inspirational people, after all. Even an average person standing next to them would appear incompetent, and Peter? He was so far below average, it was terrifying to consider how he must appear standing next to them.

He thought of James. More so than Remus, or even Sirius, James was the one Peter really looked up to. If there was anyone person whose life Peter would want his own to look like, it would be James. James defined admirable to Peter. Even in the days when he had bullied Snape, it had been admirable to Peter. James was noble, and fierce, and smart, and funny, and talented, and everything just seemed to come so easy to him. Even those selfless, brave acts Peter had seen and heard of James had seemed to come easy to him. They were second nature.

James was his hero. Peter would do anything for him, he knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt.

So, Peter decided, in his quest to live more admirably, he would try to emulate his hero.

"What would James do?" Peter said aloud.

That could be like a mantra for him - one that, in a given moment of crisis, could provide Peter with the right answer. The noble, admirable answer.

He wrote it down on a piece of parchment in front of him.

What would James do?

With this, Peter hoped he would always be able to figure out the right thing to do.

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"Mr Potter, with all due respect, you are an absolute idiot."

James scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "It was an honest mistake."

The lawyer flitted between files lying on the desk in James' father's old study with the hurried air of someone trying very hard not to show how frustrated they were. "You had to know your parents had a lawyer under their payroll to handle these sorts of things."

James shook his head. "I thought lawyers were just a thing Muggles had."

The lawyer stared. "You thought…"

"I took Muggle studies for a few weeks, okay? It's the only time the word lawyer has ever actually come up."

The lawyer, Pinsbury was his name, shook his head. "It's going to take me weeks to undo the damage you've done."

"Hey," said James defensively, "some of those things don't need to be fixed. I own the estate now, and when I say I want payments to the Parkinsons to cease immediately, I mean it."

"It's for their charity fund, Master Potter. Your father was making a gesture-"

"I don't think the Parksinsons would have any decent taste in charities, to be honest. How about we send those payments to the Muggleborn Association instead? Help Muggleborn students get Ministry funding for pocket money and whatnot."

Pinsbury surveyed James for a second, then nodded. "Very well."

"What?" said James. "You were thinking something else, what is it?"

"I am merely trying to decide which of your parents you are more similar to."

"And?"

Pinsbury offered a small smile. "Startlingly similar to both. In any case, you are indeed the owner of the estate now."

James smiled back.

"Anyway, here is the next absurd decision you've left for me to clean up, Mr Potter…"

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Marlene managed to escape the horde of relatives and well-wishers by ducking into a guest bedroom.

She sat on the bed, held her hands up to her face, and let out a deep, rattling breath.

She could stand around and smile and laugh and make huge doe eyes at Will Ärger all day long - for the rest of her life even, judging from how the future was looking. What would never change though was the torturous knowledge that no matter how lovely, how perfect this guy was, he wasn't Sirius Black.

She could pretend, in the eyes of all onlookers, that Sirius meant nothing to her now, that she was perfectly capable of following through with all these grand plans set out for her without a single qualm in her mind… but in these quiet moments, when she could get away from the noise and eyes of the world around her, when she was able to see her thoughts as clear as day, she knew the truth. She loved him, with all her heart and soul. Aching, mind-shredding, stupid, stupid love.

They had become friends again while in Germany, and she'd thought, most foolishly, that at least that sliver of his presence in her life would be enough. She knew now that it wasn't.

Tears, suppressed for too long, began to roll down her cheeks, coating the hands that covered her face.

She didn't want to get married. It wasn't fair. The most joyous occasion of most people's lives had been repurposed for her, before she was even born, into a business decision, and no matter how decent a person Will Ärger was, she hadn't chosen him.

Marlene didn't notice the door opening, didn't realize there was someone else in the room until she felt the weight of the bed shift beside her, and a hand touched her shoulder.

"It's time we talked about things," said her mother.

Marlene hastily wiped her eyes. "Mum, I-"

"When I was your age I was in a very similar situation to yours, you know. Worse, even."

She sniffed. "Marrying dad can't have been that bad."

"I was pregnant, Marlene." Marlene froze. "By another man, no less."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"You… I have a sibling?"

Her mum's eyes grew distant and sad. "There are spells designed for such situations, you know. Harmless, humane ways of ending a pregnancy with magic. As though it had never even happened."

Marlene could only stare at her mother.

"You are the only child I have ever given birth to, Marlene. And whether you like it or not, you have inherited a duty, one which you have held from the day you were born. This marriage is for your family. I was coming from the position of a higher caste and marrying into the McKinnons, and I had my reservations, but I stayed the course for my family. If magical customs are outdated, then Pureblood customs are archaic. I understand this, Marlene. You are not alone in thinking this. It is not an ideal world, but your birthright as a Pureblood involves patriarchal, classist expectations. And even if you don't buy into that, it doesn't matter. At the end of the day what matters most is your family. You must do what is best for your family."

Marlene, as she had always been prone to do under the watchful eye of her mother, nodded simply and swallowed her words.

"Yes, mother."

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Alice and Lily, who had been looking for Marlene, pulled away from the closed door as the conversation between mother and daughter wound down.

"I've never seen Marlene behave like that," said Alice, as the two girls began walking back the way they'd come. "At least not around anyone besides her parents. She becomes a completely different person to the confident, free-spirited Marlene we see at Hogwarts."

Lily nodded. "Seeing it never ceases to amaze me. Her parents have this hold over her, she's completely submissive to them. The complete opposite of the normal Marlene."

"It's partly a Pureblood thing, I think," said Alice. "Mind you, my parents are normal. But I've been around a lot of Pureblood families where the kids have no control over their lives - 'you'll have this job, and be friends with these people, and go to this function on this day', it's exhausting just thinking about it. The word of your parents is the end all, be all for those kids. I just find it exceptionally weird with Marlene."

Lily had never experienced or witnessed anything like what Alice had described. Her parents had been loving, and encouraged Lily's independence - so too would any good parents, she would hope. But that was certainly not the case with the Mckinnons. And, from the sounds of it, plenty of other Pureblood families.

Though being a Muggleborn in Wizarding society had plenty of unfortunate side effects, Lily was almost pleased to find an area in which she could whole heartedly be glad she had been born a Muggle.

"On the bright side," said Alice, "we're going to have plenty of Will-Arger-gossip to give the gang at dinner tonight."

"Oh," said Lily, "Marlene didn't tell you?"

"What?"

"Will's coming to dinner. Makes sense, right? He came all this way. So he'll be at dinner tonight."

"So… no gossip?"

"No gossip, at least at the dinner table. He also might bring his friends too. It should be fun."

"Sounds awkward," Alice mumbled.

"It won't be awkward."

"I bet it'll be awkward."

"It won't be awkward."

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An awkward silence hung in the air like a piñata.

As fate was so fond of spectacle, each of the teens had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron that evening in such a particular order that Sirius ended up sitting directly opposite Marlene and Will, right in the middle portion of the long table.

This area where Sirius and Marlene were looking anywhere but at each other became a vacuum of conversation and festivity.

So much for new beginnings and genuine attempts at friendship, Peter lamented to himself. When Sirius had told the boys after returning from Germany that he and Marlene were taking another stab at friendship, Peter didn't need to have passed Third Year Divination (and indeed he hadn't) to expect things to kick off this way.

On the right side of Marlene and Sirius' vacuum were Alice and Frank talking quietly to each other, and James and Lily squabbling and taking every possible opportunity to grab each other's arm while laughing or brush each other's hand while eating - Peter suspected that neither of them even realized they were doing so.

On the left side of the vacuum were Will and two friends of his, and then Peter and Remus. Peter hadn't yet caught the two friends' names. That wasn't because he hadn't been told their names - he'd shaken their hands and everything. He'd simply forgotten already.

"How do you spell your name?" Peter said to the friend that was closer to him. Peter was proud of himself for that line - it was a very discreet way of re-learning their names without being rude.

The friend, however, looked at Peter with a raised brow. "My name is difficult for you?"

"Uh... yeah."

"Very well," he said slowly. "It's spelt J - O - H - N. John."

"Right," said Peter quickly, his face coloring. "I just know that in Holland things can be spelt a little differently, so-"

"We are from Poland," said the other friend. Peter blinked. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Brilliant. And um… how do you spell your name?"

The other friend gave him a long stare. "M - A - R - K. Mark."

"Will, Mark, and John?" said Peter with a shaky laugh. "With those names, you - you guys could write gospels for your own bible!"

Everyone at the long table stared at Peter. Lily and Remus laughed quietly, and Peter remembered that they were the only other ones with at least one Muggle parent.

"Anyway," said Peter slowly. There was a long pause. What would James do? "Do you guys like Quidditch?"

Instantly, the eyes of Will and John lit up. Mark had a look of resigned disinterest, as if Quidditch was something he couldn't get away from because of his friends. Peter could definitely relate to that.

"We don't just like Quidditch," said Will, shaking his head.

"We live and breathe it," John exclaimed. "Last year, in our final year of school, I captained our team to the Inter-School Championship! Will was one of my Chasers."

James scoffed from the other end of the table. "I captained the Gryffindor Quidditch team to win the House Cup for the last two years in a row."

Frank gave a whoop, and the two boys high fived.

"I was selected as the reserve Keeper for the Polish International Under Nineteen Squad last year," said John, leaning forward to stare James down from all the way across the table. "The only reason I can't play for them this year is because I'll turn nineteen just before the season finishes."

"Ah yes, I forget we're the same age," said Marlene to Will, in a halfhearted attempt to change the topic. "The fact that in Poland you were in the year above me always made you seem older."

"If I was in Poland, I could have made the Under Nineteen Squad years ago," James said dismissively. "The range of players over here is far more competitive."

"James, stop," Lily muttered.

"No, he's got a point," chimed in Sirius. "The Quidditch scene in England compared to Poland is night and day, isn't it?"

"You play Quidditch?" Will asked Sirius.

"I dabble," said Sirius defiantly.

"He doesn't play," Marlene told Will.

"What would you know?" Sirius asked her.

"I," she said loudly, "am actually on the team, Black. James himself put me on it last year, remember?"

"You play Quidditch?" Will asked Marlene in surprise.

Marlene faltered. "Yeah, I uh-"

"She's a Chaser for Gryffindor," Sirius said loudly. "You didn't know?"

"Shut up, Black," she sighed. "Yeah, Will, I play Quidditch."

"I'd love to see you play one day," said Will earnestly. "Maybe I can come to one of your games."

John snorted. "Apply for time off work and an international portkey, just to watch school-level Quidditch?"

"Oh, because you're such a big deal?" said James.

"I was a reserve for the Polish International Under Nineteen-"

"Yeah, we heard you the first time," James said.

"And we're not impressed," said Sirius.

"At least I can actually play Quidditch," John snapped at Sirius. "All you do I'm sure is sit on the benches and cheer."

"Sorry about my friends," Mark said to Peter and Remus.

"Believe me," said Remus, "not as sorry as we are for ours." He turned to Peter and added, more quietly, "We know that Sirius is so hot and bothered right now because he probably loves Marlene, but why is James letting himself get riled up?"

"Quidditch," Peter said with a sigh. "James loves Quidditch."

"Tell you what," said James, "I have a makeshift Quidditch pitch behind my garden, and it's pretty close to regulation size. How about we put you two to the test? Me and Frank against you and Will."

"I'm up for that," said John, eyeing James with a level stare.

"I don't suppose I have a say in the matter," sighed Will.

"What about me?" asked Marlene, offended.

"It's Keeper and Chaser against Keeper and Chaser," James explained. "And I wasn't exactly going to sit myself out, was I? Sorry, Mar."

"Besides," said Frank, "three on two would hardly be fair to them, would it?"

"Who says Marlene would be playing on your team?" asked John hotly.

Everyone on the table turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?" asked Lily.

"Well," said John, "she's getting married to Will, afterall. If she was going to play with anyone, it would be with us."

A few seconds passed.

"Luckily," said Marlene eventually, "there are two on each side already, so I don't have to make that choi-"

"I'll play," said Sirius loudly. There was another brief silence. "I'll play on team Hogwarts."

"Well," said Will after another moment's silence, "it looks like we'll need you on our side to even the odds then, right Marlene?"

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"Think of it as a bonding exercise with your husband," John told her.

"Fiancé," Sirius corrected. There was yet another brief silence. "They're not married yet, mate."

"That's… true," said Will, glancing at John before looking back at Sirius. "You're sure you can play?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "I'm halfway decent. James can attest to that."

"He is," James said slowly.

"Splendid," said Sirius. "A three on three, two Chasers, one Keeper, friendly game of backyard Quidditch."

"Yes," said John, looking at James from the end of the table. "Friendly."

Sirius clapped, as if to finalize the arrangement. "Does tomorrow work for everyone?"

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There never seemed to be a moment's rest when working as one of the good guys.

That's what the Prewett brothers had learned by now. It was always one crisis to another, one 'last stand' after the next, another city to free, another family to rescue, or assassination to thwart, or politician to spy on.

Today it was raiding the headquarters of a rallying group for Death Eaters in a quiet little suburb in Portsmouth. No big names were involved in the group. The most well known of the bunch was an estranged member of the Parkinson family, who had been fined for attempting to urinate on Eugenia Jenkins' grave.

A day ago, Minister for Magic Harold Minchum had given the Prewetts a team of two dozen aurors with which to raid the headquarters. The aim was to arrest the lot with minimum casualties, projecting an image of strength and decisiveness.

With a day to go until the raid, the aurors were waiting at the Ministry for the brothers to brief them on the mission. Before that could happen, the brothers were scouting out some new toys that would go a long way towards helping the war effort.

"Knock," said Gideon, the short and round one. "You knock," said Fabian, the tall and thin one.

It had often been said that side by side they looked like the number ten.

"Why me?" said Gideon.

"You're stronger."

"And you're taller."

"What does that have to do with knocking?"

"The acoustics might be better from up there."

"Do you even know how acoustics work?"

"Just hurry up and-"

The door opened, and an old man with a lined face, a hunched back, and boyish eyes looked out at them. "Hello."

"Mr Scamander," said Fabian, inclining his head. "It is an honor to meet the most celebrated magizoologist in history."

"Call me Newt," said the old man, waving a hand. "Come in, come in."

The house was small on the outside. It was on a hill in rural Ireland, no other houses in sight, only fields of grass. At the top of the hill was a simple stone path leading up to the short, stout, circular house with a chipped wooden door.

Once the Prewett brothers followed Newt Scamander into the house however, they were immediately treated to a room as large as the Entrance Hall back at Hogwarts. There were magical creatures on display in every direction, crawling around the sitting room, jumping on the couches, sleeping in the kitchen sink, so much so that the place seemed more like a zoo than an actual home. The assortment of creatures was vast to the point of being well beyond the Prewett brothers' capacity to name more than a handful.

Newt led the brothers past a chupacabra feeding from a large bowl, then over a sleeping herd of jackalope, before tiptoeing past something purple and furry, about the size of a cabinet, with a jagged horn atop its head and what looked like wings tucked in tight behind it.

Finally, they reached a door that Newt unlocked, wordlessly ushered the brothers inside, before locking it again behind them. The room was barren, with no magical creatures in sight - 'in sight' being the key term, as there was a large wooden crate sitting in the middle of the room.

"Now," said Newt, "as I understand, you boys are looking for an advantage in the war against the Death Eaters."

"We'll take any advantage we can get," said Fabian. "They use killing curses and we don't."

"And the killing curse goes through shield charms," added Gideon. "So it's not exactly a fair fight."

Newt nodded, and walked to the crate in the middle of the room. "Which is precisely why I got in contact with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement last week. It is my understanding that the two of you are doing some work with the ministry at the moment. You'll therefore provide the perfect field test for this."

"And what exactly is…" Gideon gestured at the crate, "...this."

Newt's eyes filled with excitement, and he gave his wand a light flick. The lid of the crate slid off, the Prewett brothers took some cautionary steps back, wands raised, and… nothing happened. They stepped forward and peered into the crate.

"Rocks," said Fabian.

The crate was filled with perfectly round, smooth, grey rocks.

"Garlish," said Newt.

"What?" said Gideon.

"Garlish. That's their name."

"Garlic?"

"Garlish."

"What does it mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything. I discovered them, so I got to name them."

"And you chose garlish."

"It sounded nice."

"It sounds like garlic."

"So you've said."

"What do they do?" cut in Fabian, before Gideon and Newt could get too distracted.

Newt picked up one of the garlish, gave it a light toss in the air, caught it, and then hurled it into the wall. There was a loud thudding sound, and the garlish dropped to the ground.

"I've charmed my walls to be unbreakable," said Newt, as he walked to the garlish and bent to pick it back up. "Otherwise it would have smashed right through the wall. And if you take a look at it," he held the garlish out for the brothers to inspect, "there isn't a single mark on the garlish itself. I've used every manner of spell on its exterior, and haven't been able to so much as scratch it."

"So…" said Gideon, "we smack the Death Eaters over the top of the head with these things?"

Newt rolled his eyes and placed the garlish on the ground. "Stand back, gentlemen."

They took a few steps back, and Newt cast a shield charm between the three of them and the garlish. Then, he raised his wand and a dim blue light filled the room. "For a long time, the consensus was that these creatures weren't even alive," Newt said softly. "Until I discovered that, when exposed to this light of this exact shade, they have a very peculiar reaction."

A deafening boom suddenly filled the air, and the garlish exploded outwards, filling the space between the wall and Newt's shield charm with white light and blazing red flames that licked at every surface they touched. The light faded then, Newt flicked his wand to put out the flames left flickering on the floor and wall, and the Prewett brothers stared at the garlish, which was now back in one smooth, round piece, sitting on the floor as though nothing had happened.

Newt picked it back up, and once again held it out to the brothers to inspect. "After further study, I've deduced that we are in the middle of a hibernation period for the garlish - a period that has lasted at least four centuries already, I believe. During this period, they are impossible to harm, and impossible to kill."

"Then why do they need to explode?" asked Fabian.

"My guess? Thousands of years ago there must have been some sort of predatory creature actually capable of breaking through the garlish's shell - this creature must have emitted the very same blue light you saw me cast, perhaps as a method of attracting mates. In response, the garlish must have taken on the explosion as an adaptation. And though that predatory creature may have since gone extinct, the ability to explode was still a favorable trait for each garlish to pass on to the next."

"What does a garlish look like when it's not hibernating?" asked Fabian.

"No one knows," said Newt. "Although by my calculations, the hibernation period will actually end in just over twenty years. I intend to be the first magizoologist to document the historic event."

"We are very happy for you," said Gideon somberly, before his face brightened. "But until then, you're giving us this crate full of them to blow stuff up with?"

Newt stared at Gideon for a few long seconds before sighing. "Yes, Mr Prewett. Until then, I am giving you this crate full of them to… blow stuff up with."

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It amused Sirius to no end to watch Lily boss James around the house. He had to admit that there was something fitting to seeing the two of them together like this. Though neither of them seemed willing to be the one to venture into the realm of romance just yet, as far as Sirius was concerned it looked like they had been together for years. And as for Lily, it seemed as though she had lived here for years.

As each portion of the group, between Team Poland, Team Hogwarts, and their various supporters, arrived at Potter Manor that day, Lily ushered them all in, showed them around the place, instructed the House-elves what to prepare (and was still, after all this time, quite shocked when they wouldn't allow her to help them), and scolded James for lazing about on the couch reading a Quidditch magazine.

"We need to talk."

Sirius was distracted from his musings, as he sat at the kitchen counter and listened to James and Lily argue from the other room, by Marlene standing in the doorway, hand on hip.

"About what?" he asked, his tone flat.

"Well, for starters," she said, stepping further into the room, "was it just my imagination, or did we not agree to be friends again, barely over a week ago?"

"We are friends again."

She raised an eyebrow. "Right. In that very same conversation, I also recall you promising 'no nonsense'."

"There is no nonsense."

"Okay." She narrowed her eyes. "Well, this Quidditch game today certainly feels like a bit of nonsense."

"I bet I'll score more than him."

"Than who? Will?"

"Mhmm."

"Why have you turned it into a competition?"

"McKinnon, Quidditch is a competition."

"Yes, but not necessarily between you and him."

"Except he's literally on the opposite team from me."

"Well, somehow this feels like it's about more than that."

Sirius took a step closer to her. "McKinnon," he said quietly, "what on earth else could this possibly be about?"

She faltered, and they stared at each other for a few long seconds. Then, Sirius gave a short bark of laughter, and walked right past her. Their shoulders were a hair's breadth from touching as he passed, and he could almost feel static crackle between them.

As he left the kitchen, he just barely heard her mumble one word. "Nonsense."

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The owners of a resectable and largely unremarkable house in Portsmouth had received a letter in the mail a few days ago informing them that they had won free tickets to a pleasure cruise destined for the canary islands. They had left in the morning, and when they arrived at the address written on the letter, they had found themselves in the middle of a dry, unkempt cornfield. Not a single boat in sight.

They were, quite understandably, most displeased.

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The Prewett brothers and a squad of aurors were gathered in the living room of a respectable and largely unremarkable house in Portsmouth. The owners had kindly lent them the place for the day.

A few houses further down the road was the enormous house that was to be the target of their raid - the raid which was set to begin at any moment.

The brothers allowed the aurors to get organized amongst themselves - neither brother felt much like the leader type. The squad was led by a woman named Seo-Jun. She had smiled and laughed at the Ministry, but now was strictly business, barking out orders and expecting them to be followed. She was young, but more capable than most aurors her age the brothers had met.

"Everyone has their own garlish?" Fabian asked.

The aurors all nodded. Some patted the flat, round, grey ball that was tucked into a pouch on each of their belts.

"Why is it called garlish?" one of the aurors asked.

"For no good reason, I can tell you that much," said Gideon with a snort.

"It's time," Seo-Jun said to the room at large. Strictly business in the field.

Fabian nodded. "Let's go."

Their targets in the headquarters that were about to be raided could not quite be called Death Eaters. The more accurate term was wanna-be's. As such, when the Prewett brothers led the squad of aurors quickly and quietly across the street, their targets were none the wiser. When Gideon blasted the front door down with a short flick of his wand, they were greeted by sounds of alarmed cries and clumsy bodies falling off couches in delayed surprise. And when the brothers and the aurors stormed inside the enormous house, blasting holes through walls, destroying entire rooms with the explosive force of the garlish, and disarming, stunning, arresting every sad sod they came across, it was all done with no resistance.

"Nice night for it," said Gideon to Fabian as he waved his wand and launched a red faced bald man into a wall.

Another man, wearing only underpants and a backwards Death Eater mask, charged at them yelling war cries.

"Every night is a nice night for it," Fabian responded, stunning the man with a lazy flick of his wrist.

It was all going so well.

Suddenly, yellow light radiated from the center of the room. Everyone on both sides paused to stare at it. The light grew brighter, almost blinding, and it began to take a shape. A human shape.

The light faded, and in the center of the room, hovering in the air, was a figure in flowing golden robes that rippled and gleamed as if they were liquid. A golden hood covered the top of their head.

Then the figure lifted their head a little, revealing the features of a woman looking down at them all, her expression either disinterested or distasteful. She had an angular face, high cheekbones, and she held her head high. She was classically beautiful. No one noticed this, however. Instead, they were transfixed by the black, spiraling tattoo lines that ran from her forehead and down her face, down her neck, were covered by her golden robes before emerging again on her wrists and hands.

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds as she watched them all.

"And who the bloody hell are you supposed to be?" said Gideon loudly.

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About halfway through the Quidditch game, it occurred to James that he might be the only one who actually came to play Quidditch.

"Frank," James called to the Keeper of his team of three, as Will Ärger's friend John came speeding through the air towards Team Hogwarts' hoops, "he's been favoring the left hoop all game. Be ready for it."

"-illegal under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1876-"

"Frank."

"-or was it 1875? No, it had to be '76 due to the Declaration of-."

"Frank."

"Hm? What's happening?"

John wound his arm back as he approached the hoops, then whipped his hand through the air and launched the Quaffle clean through the left hoop.

"Ten points to Poland," Remus yelled cheerfully from the garden of Potter Manor below. He was joined by Mark, Peter, Lily, and Alice, who all lazed about on the grass chatting or peering up at the game above.

"Frank," James said again, once he retrieved the Quaffle, "I need your head in this game."

"My exam is days away now, James."

"And you've done nothing but study since we came back from Germany. You've lived and breathed your textbooks, and Alice herself told you that you need to take a little time today to relax, or else your brain will be completely overcooked. There is such a thing as over-preparing."

Frank sighed. "I know, I know. Okay, Potter. You have my full attention for however long this game goes on. How will it end, by the way? Neither team has a Seeker."

"It ends once it's made abundantly clear who the better team is," said James, turning around with a determined frown on his face. "And the answer is us, if that wasn't clear already."

"So…" said Frank, "it's basically just a pissing contest in disguise."

"Get your head in the game, Longbottom."

"It is."

James tucked the Quaffle under his arm and started flying towards the opposite hoops. He looked around the air for his other teammate, and saw Sirius and Marlene hovering idly in the distance, in the midst of what looked like an argument.

"I'll do it myself, then," James muttered to himself. He flew on, slowing slightly when he saw Will, Team Poland's Keeper, making a beeline right at him. Assuming he had abandoned his team's hoops to play more offensively, James prepared to barrel roll out of the Keeper's way, but frowned to himself when Will flew right past him without a second glance. James watched the curious looking Will make a beeline for Sirius and Marlene, who were still in their continually escalating argument. Will's expression was equal parts mild concern and polite amusement.

James shrugged to himself. One less opponent to deal with.

He looked back to his goal, and saw John hovering in his way. The only thing in between James and Team Poland's hoops. The only other player left in the game.

John grinned at him, a competitor's grin, and a silent acknowledgement passed between the two players. James wasn't sure what exactly it was. Mutual love for the game, perhaps.

Regardless, he steeled himself to put everything into this next play. He was determined to beat the boy.

James' broom crawled forward through the air, and John began inching forward too. Neither player's eyes left the other. Each was looking for some sort of inclination regarding the other's next move.

James cleared his mind of every thought. Quidditch was more than second nature to him. It was as natural as breathing. It wasn't something he had to think about to do, and so when he made his move, his eyes, face, body, gave no hint of what was to come.

He tossed the ball far and high into the air, faster than a violent sneeze, and while John's surprised eyes followed the ball's journey into the air, James shot past the boy.

He heard John curse behind him, imagined him snapping into action, but multiple split-seconds too late.

The Quaffle began its downward descent, James slowed his broom only a little, and the ball ended its flight arc right into his waiting hand.

There was no Keeper. He lobbed it clean through the middle hoop.

"Game," he said to himself decisively.

He spun his broom around, saw John pull up in front of him. The boy let out a breath and nodded, the obnoxious pride gone from his face. James realized then what he himself must have looked like to everyone, all these years, talent or no talent.

"You've beaten me," John admitted. He stuck out his hand.

James smiled at his opponent, and grasped John's hand firmly. "It was a good game. I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. The level of play in Poland is no different from here."

John shrugged. "You're soon to be Seventh Year, yes?" James nodded. "Be prepared. If you don't have scouts begging you to play for England's Under Nineteen Squad soon, then I'll be a House-elf's uncle."

James smiled uncomfortably, prepared to say something uncharacteristically gracious, but paused when he heard raised voices.

He looked to the other side of the pitch, saw that Marlene and Sirius had taken their argument to the ground, and he shrugged to himself. Raised voices from the two of them was nothing out of the ordinary.

James and John angled their brooms downward to join all their friends on the ground. Everyone was lying on the grass, watching the debacle with varying degrees of interest. Will stared between Sirius and Marlene, still looking unsure whether he should laugh along or intervene.

"What are they going on about this time?" James asked Remus when he and John reached the group.

"Nothing really," Remus muttered to James. "Sometimes I think they just pretend to be angry with one another, just so they can have their one on one time with each other without feeling guilty."

James glanced around to make sure John, Mark, or Will weren't listening, before nodding in response to Remus. "Using arguments as a disguise for flirting is my specialty."

Remus smirked, glanced at Lily, then looked back at Sirius and Marlene. "I suppose, then, that you can recognize it when you see it."

James nodded once more, folding his arms as he too watched Sirius and Marlene. "Oh, yeah. I recognize it, alright."

Marlene threw her hands in the air. "-should know that there is no difference between male or female Quidditch players. Physical strength doesn't matter in Quidditch, it's about skill. Or at least you would know that, if you could actually play it."

"Tell me why the Harpies, the all-female Quidditch team, are at the bottom three of the league every season, then."

"You don't need to say 'all-female Quidditch team' as if I don't know who the bloody Holyhead Harpies are! Merlin's beard, must you assume you know more than women about everything?"

"What a fantastic attempt at changing the conversation away from the fact that there is statistical evidence within our English League that can prove my point correct."

"Sure, that's here in England. But if you look at the French League, the Perpignan Pixies - they're an all-female Quidditch team, just in case you weren't yet aware - have finished at the top of the league for two seasons in a row."

"The foul rules in the French League are completely different to ours, it's a much softer game over there. Why do you think the French never qualify for the World Cup?"

"They play a much more elegant game in France, and one could argue that it takes more skill."

"It's not Quidditch."

"It's the best version of Quidditch."

"Tell you what, McKinnon. When you get there next year, why don't you try out for the team? You'll be a complete shoe-in, considering you've played the actual game over here."

Marlene froze. Sirius frowned in confusion at her reaction, before his eyes widened.

"You're going to France?" asked Will.

James looked at Remus, and around at the faces of everyone else present as well. It was clear that this was news to them all. All except Sirius.

"Uh," said Marlene. "Yeah. At least, maybe. I applied for Dieudonnée's Academy a couple months ago. It's an extremely prestigious Healer school in Paris. I'll only hear back from them on whether or not I'll be accepted in December. It's just that, with all the control my parents have over my life, this was something I could at least do for myself, on my own terms, you know? And it's not like they can be upset with me - being a Healer is a good, reputable job. And it's something that's going to be my choice."

Marlene seemed to realize she was rambling, and she closed her mouth tight.

Will, for his part, smiled and nodded. "I think that's a brilliant idea. And it'll be much easier for me to visit you there." Then he tilted his head in confusion. "Did you all know about this?"

"No," said Marlene, coming to him and touching his arm reassuringly as the rest of them all shook their heads. "I wanted you to be the first one I told."

"But…" Will tilted his head even more, glancing at Sirius.

"I was walking past when she was filling out the application form and I peeked over her shoulder," Sirius said easily, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'm nosy like that."

Everyone but the three Polish boys seemed to hold a collective breath at the blatant lie. Marlene filling out the form a few months ago lined up perfectly with her… previous working relationship with Sirius.

"Ah, okay," said Will, his face clearing. He looked at Marlene. "This is such exciting news."

"Yeah," she said, beaming up at him. She took his arm and started leading him away. "Wait until I tell you how hard the entrance exam was. It was crazy."

"Exam," muttered Frank, putting his hands on his head.

"Oh, here we go," sighed Alice, getting up off the grass to calm her boyfriend down.

"That was a close one," said Peter.

"What was a close one?" asked Mark.

"Uhh.."

"The game," said Lily. She winked at James. "Isn't that right?"

"Oh, yeah," said Remus. "Who won?"

James and John looked at each other.

"He did," said John, holding his head high.

"It was close, though." James clapped him on the shoulder. "You know what, John? You're alright."

"Thanks, James. You're alright, too."

They grinned at each other.

"Boys," Lily muttered.

With night beginning to creep in, they all made their way back to the warmth and coziness of Potter Manor, and shared a rowdy, but respectful dinner.

Darkness seeped into the sky that night like a teabag in hot water. Within the span of a few minutes, the world was drenched in black.

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The woman in the golden robe, with lines of black tattoos striping down her face, torso, and limbs, stepped over the dead bodies that littered the floor like they were going out of style.

"The dead bodies littered the floor like plastic cups after a concert," said a hooded man in a golden robe of his own, standing to her left. He had a red goatee and a sharp face. "The bodies littered the floor like small hairs in a house with six cats."

"Get out of my head," she told him in a bored tone.

He cracked a grin at her. "You wish you thought of that last one yourself, I know it."

"Get. Out."

"Okay, okay." He wandered off to inspect more bodies.

Around them, two other figures in flowing golden robes did the same. The massacre had been too easy. Like cattle in the slaughterhouse.

"Like pushing over a toddler just learning to walk. Like winning in Quidditch against a team with no brooms."

"Out," she said.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it." He moved further away.

She scanned the sea of bodies, surveying their work. Then she frowned. She lifted her hand, and dead bodies in her path went flying out of the way.

Two bodies on the ground that were very much alive seemed to realize they'd been spotted, as they froze suddenly.

"Fabian and Gideon Prewett," she called loudly, "I see you."

There was a long pause.

"No you don't," one of them called back eventually. It was the larger one. Gideon.

The man with the red goatee approached the brothers. "You think you're going to survive this encounter. I see the certainty in your minds."

"Oh, fun," said the other brother, Fabian. "A Legilimens."

"The most powerful Legilimens the world has seen since the skill was discovered," the man said smugly.

"Wow," said Gideon. "Okay. What's my favorite color?"

"Navy."

"Cool. What's your favorite color?"

The man stroked his goatee. "Red."

"Yeah," said Gideon. "I could have guessed that."

"Yeah."

"Would that have made me a Legilimens?"

"No. It would just make you observant."

The woman with the black tattoos waved a hand, and the man slid away from the brothers, shoes squealing on the floor, as though an invisible wall was pushing him. She focussed her gaze on the thin brother, just in time to see him throw something at her.

She caught it in her hand. It looked like a rock, but during the course of the battle she had seen what it could do. She squeezed it tight in her hand, and when it exploded, her fingers didn't even budge. Smoke escaped from between her fingers, and she smiled at the dismayed look on the brothers' faces.

"Don't tell me you were stalling all this time just for that?" she said.

She noticed that Fabian was also shaking a still body beside him. "Seo-Jun," she heard him mutter, "can you hear me?"

"She's unconscious," the woman called to him, feeling the life force within the girl with her mind. "But alive. For now."

Fabian looked at the lady, narrowing his eyes. "What are you?"

"I," the woman said, "am the future."

"Once you lot appeared, we couldn't apparate out," Fabian added. "But as far as I can tell, it isn't a jinx that's doing this. Is it your doing?"

She shook her head, then tilted it towards one of the other figures in golden robes, who hadn't moved an inch since they had arrived.

"Until he moves, no one within thirty yards can apparate."

Fabian whistled. "A powerful ability. You all seem to be uniquely powerful. Where have you been hiding all this time?"

"In plain sight," she said. Then she tilted her head some more. "In fact, one of your associates used to rank among our number."

Fabian frowned. "Who?"

"Anton Windstrum," said the man with the red goatee, making sure to keep his distance from the woman this time. "He was one of us, a year or two ago." His face soured. "But then he betrayed us."

"Yeah," said Gideon. "He does that."

"What do you people want?" asked Fabian urgently.

"Oh, you want us to tell you all the details of our grand plan?" asked the man with the red goatee, laughing. "No, thanks. Why bother, when we're just going to kill you right now?"

"At least tell us who you are," said Fabian. "For the sake of honor if nothing else."

"Honor?" said the man. "You think we lose sleep over something like that?"

"We are the Life Eaters," said the lady. She raised her hand towards the Prewetts, and her palm glowed. "And you will die at the hands of Lilandra. Die well, Fabian and Gideon Prewett."

"Yeah, we'll be sure to do that, Mrs Life Eater," said Gideon, as Lilandra's palm glowed brighter. "Maybe just not today, though."

He pulled out a beaten shoe from his pocket. Lilandra frowned at it, and it was only when Fabian placed his and the unconscious girl's hand on the shoe that Lilandra realized what it was.

In the blink of an eye, the portkey and the brothers and the girl had completely disappeared.

"What did you go and tell them who we are for?" said the man with the red goatee.

Lilandra pointed her glowing palm at him, and he shut his mouth and went back to inspecting the bodies, looking for their target.

She finally let the surge of power dissipate within her arm, and she lowered it. "Unfortunate," she muttered to herself, looking at the spot where the brothers had been.

They seemed like the sort who could make a significant nuisance of themselves.

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On a bright and blue morning, Lily chanced a glance out of the kitchen window. Her jaw dropped. "James."

"Yeah?" he called from the other room. "James, come here."

He stepped into the kitchen. "What is it?"

She pointed at two moving shapes in the sky, growing closer and closer. "Hogwarts owls." He shrugged. "Probably our letters."

She squealed. "Our Hogwarts letters!" He stared at her. "Yeah…"

"It's so exciting!"

"Er, I suppose so."

"Aren't you excited?"

"We get them every year."

"I come from a Muggle household, James. This will always be a big deal for me."

He took a few moments to digest this, and then he jumped up and down and squealed. "Our Hogwarts letters!"

She took his hands and jumped up and down with him. "Our Hogwarts letters!"

He opened the window to let the owls swoop in, and they landed on the table and dropped the letters.

Lily snatched hers up and tore it open without wasting a second, while James went to fetch some owl treats - Hogwarts owls had a tendency to demand rewards for the long flight.

Once the Hogwarts seal on Lily's envelope was cracked open, out came the letter, as well as a badge. Her heart thudded twice as fast as soon as she held the badge in her hand, and after quickly scanning the letter, she looked up at James, mouth agape.

"You're Head Girl," he said, grinning.

"I'm Head Girl."

"You're Head Girl," he said again, louder.

"I'm Head Girl!"

She screamed and threw her arms around him, and they jumped up and down again.

"Congratulations," he said, pulling away and looking at her earnestly. "You really deserve it."

Her smile was so wide it was almost splitting her face open. "I'm Head Girl," she said once more.

To anyone who was asked, it was the most predictable outcome in the world, but Lily couldn't stop herself from being completely dumbfounded by the fact.

"Let's get some firewhisky," James said, moving away to open the liquor cabinet. "We need to celebrate."

"Aren't you going to read your letter?" she asked while grabbing two glasses.

"It's just a stationary list," he said dismissively. "I'll read it later."

The Hogwarts owls soared back out through the window.

James' envelope lay on the table, forgotten, as the two clinked their glasses together in toast.

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Frank burst through his front door to find Alice sitting at the dinner table with his parents, waiting for him.

They stared at him and he stared back at them.

"Well?" prompted his mother impatiently.

He grinned. "I passed!"

They leaped up from the table and embraced him all at once. It looked like a team huddle, except everyone was shouting words of congratulations.

"When do you start?" asked Alice, pulling back.

"That's the thing," he said, making a face. "Actual training doesn't begin until almost a year from now."

"Ah," said his father, nodding. "They want you to complete intern hours."

"Five hundred intern hours for the Auror Department," said Frank with a sigh. "That's the minimum requirement, after passing the entrance exam, to begin Auror training."

"So what will you do?" asked Alice.

"I'm already in talks with Mr Pesling, he's happy to have me intern for him for the year."

"Mr Pesling?" asked Alice.

"An old friend of Fleamont Potter, back when he ran the department," explained Frank's father. "An excellent indication that a person will be decent."

Frank nodded. "He doesn't do a lot of fieldwork these days, so it might be a boring year, but it means that starting next year I'll be an Auror-in-training." He looked at Alice. "And I know that once you're out of Hogwarts, you'll be right there training alongside me."

She kissed him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

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Later that week, there was a celebratory dinner at Potter Manor - there seemed to be a lot to celebrate of late.

The whole gang was there, besides Marlene and the Polish visitors, and they were laughing and toasting to each other for hours. Sirius had a number of things to say about Marlene's absence, but no one paid much mind to that - least of all Remus. He had other things on his mind that night.

The Werewolf Support Group was due to have its first scheduled meeting later that night, and Remus had decided to attend it. However, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that doing so was a terrible idea, couldn't stop mentally listing to himself all the possible ways it could turn out to be a trap, or a trick, or a joke of some sort.

"Remus. Remus."

He shook his head a little and looked around the dinner table at all his friends. "Did I miss something?"

"I was just asking you," said Sirius, "are you positive there was no Head Boy badge in your Hogwarts letter?"

"Yes, I'm positive," said Remus for the hundredth time that week. "I told you, it was never going to be me."

"Why the hell not?" said Lily incredulously. "You would be the perfect Head Boy. Speaking as the Head Girl, there is no one I'd want to work alongside more."

"It'll probably be one of the Ravenclaws," said Alice. "George Giddy, maybe."

"Hopefully not one of the Slytherins," said James darkly.

They could all think of one Slytherin in particular he might be referring to.

Remus, for his part, didn't care in the slightest that he hadn't been made Head Boy. It wasn't something he had ever expected to get. Not with his condition.

He glanced at the clock. It was nine thirty. The support group was scheduled to meet at ten.

Time to go.

"Anyone need their plates taken away?" asked Remus, standing up.

There were choruses of yes, and he walked around the table gathering up the plates.

"What's that stuck to the bottom of your plate, James?" asked Alice, pointing at James' plate as Remus lifted it.

James peered at the underside of his plate, and then laughed and peeled off his soggy Hogwarts letter. "I forgot I still have this."

"You still haven't opened it?" Lily asked him, smiling at Remus as she handed him her plate.

"It's not important," James said dismissively, tossing the soggy letter far across the room and all the way onto the kitchen counter – he truly had a brilliant arm. "Same thing every year."

"Opening my first Hogwarts letter is one of my fondest memories," Lily told him. "It's always exciting."

Remus strode to the kitchen with all the plates, and a House-elf took the plates from him. Then he glanced back at his friends, chatting away as passionately as always, and he knew he could slip out of the room without a single one of them noticing.

And that's precisely what he did.

He left the manor unnoticed. Outside, he closed his eyes and apparated from the doorstep. When he opened them, he was standing outside a normal looking house in a normal Muggle neighborhood. This was the address advertised on the newspaper. Remus had checked the place out a few days ago, from a distance and during the day time, just to see if he could find any obvious signs of it being a trap. His presence tonight indicated that search had been fruitless.

Remus knocked twice on the front door and waited.

He heard footsteps, then scuffling on the other side of the door, and then a hesitation.

"Who- who is it?" came a cracking voice.

"My name is," Remus hesitated, "Harold. I'm here for the meeting."

Another pause. "What meeting?"

"The one advertised in the Daily Prophet."

"Are you…" the voice dropped to a whisper, "one of us?"

"Well that depends on what you are," Remus whispered back.

The door opened and a tired looking, balding man with a weak chin lifted a wand. The wand was held backwards, the end pointed at the man's own face. "Are you a werewolf or not?" he thundered.

"Oh, bloody hell, Ponymus." Another man approached, taller, with a lined face, tired eyes, and dark, thick eyebrows. "He's clearly one of us. Look at those bags under his eyes. That is a tired young man if ever I've seen one."

Remus nodded nervously. "I am a- a werewolf."

The man shook Remus' hand. "As are we. I'm Geoff, and this is Ponymus. He's the owner of this lovely house and our host for the evening."

"Yes," said Ponymus, suddenly remembering. "I am the host." He turned on his heel. "This way, Harold."

Still doubtful, Remus followed Ponymus and Geoff down the hallway and through a door on the side that took them to a garage. There was a small red car on one side, and a few chairs arranged in a circle on the other. The only other person there was a lady with short blonde hair and tired bags below her eyes.

"Patty, this is Harold," said Ponymus, taking a seat and indicating Remus to do the same.

"Hi, Harold," said Patty, smiling and shaking Remus' hand as he and Geoff sat down. "You and I are both new here."

"This looks a lot like the house of a Muggle," said Remus, looking around the garage and the lamps and wires lining the roof panels.

"Thank you," said Ponymus, beaming.

"Ponymus lives like a Muggle," Geoff explained to Remus. "He got so tired of the harsh treatment our kind gets from the magical community that he left the community completely to immerse himself in the Muggle world."

"Why host a werewolf support group if you're pretending to be a Muggle?" asked Remus.

"It does seem a little counter-intuitive," added Patty, looking curious.

"Well," said Ponymus, leaning in and smiling wider, "a few weeks ago, I received fan mail."

Patty raised an eyebrow. "Fan mail?"

"A fellow werewolf out there has been so inspired by my rejection of the magical community and its many social deficiencies that they wrote me a letter."

"Basically," said Geoff, rolling his eyes, "Ponymus put this all together so he could meet a fan."

"I am doing this to provide the much needed support and safe place that our community seldom receives, and to show young werewolves like Remus here that there is light at the end of the tunnel, and-"

"How come I'm not young?" asked Patty.

"I'm sorry?"

"How come you said Remus is young?"

"Because he- well, quite clearly he-"

"Quite clearly he what?"

"Well-"

"I'm joking," said Patty, half-smiling. "But seriously, do you have any actual items on the agenda? Anything in particular you actually wanted to talk to your fellow werewolves about at this meeting, that you arranged?"

"Uhhh…"

There was a long pause.

"What would you suggest we talk about?" asked Geoff.

"I don't know," said Patty. "Anything. Life? Politics?"

"Gossip," suggested Remus.

"Well, on that count," said Geoff, lowering his voice to conspiratorial levels, "I do have something to offer… but you cannot spread this around, okay?"

They all nodded.

"Okay. So, my brother traffics exclusive magical artefacts, and-"

"Exclusive how?" asked Remus.

"He means illegal, I presume," said Patty.

"Exclusive is the preferred term," said Geoff. "Anyway, apparently he's been invited to the wizarding underworld event of the century. It's extremely under the radar so he didn't give me any more details than that, but how exciting does that sound?"

"The wizarding underworld event of the century?" said Remus. "That sounds made up."

"My brother is not the type to make something up like that," said Geoff, shaking his head. "Something really big is on the way, and do you know what's tragic? It will come and go, and normal folk like us won't even know any different. That's how these things go. You look at how good wizards are at hiding things from Muggles, just imagine how good they are at hiding things from other wizards."

"Does gossip count if it's something that no one in the room can actually verify?" asked Patty, not seeming to really be listening to Geoff.

"The whole point of gossip is unverified speculation," Remus reasoned.

"It is not unverified, or speculation," Geoff said crossly. "I'm telling you, there's something really big coming."

"What's it called, then?" asked Patty.

"The something something Gala," said Geoff, waving a hand airily.

"The Something Something Gala," Patty repeated.

"No," said Geoff impatiently. "There are two words before Gala, I just don't remember what they are."

"I'm still just thinking about how he made it sound like it was something significant and awesome, and it's just a gala," said Ponymus.

"You wanted gossip, I gave you gossip," snapped Geoff, crossing his arms.

The doorbell rang.

Ponymus stood up immediately. "That might be my fan!"

He raced out of the garage to the front door, and Remus heard him open the door and once again quite pathetically threaten someone. Then the door closed, and Remus heard Ponymus begin to speak excitedly. Someone responded to him, speaking much more quietly.

The voices grew nearer, and Ponymus returned to the garage with a tall man in a dark coat in tow.

"Everyone," said Ponymus, "I would like you introduce you to Gabriel. He wrote me a letter last week."

"Yes," said Gabriel, looking slowly around the group and smiling. Remus noted that there were no bags under Gabriel's eyes. He did not look tired at all. "I wrote a letter. You are all werewolves, yes?"

"That's right, Gabriel," said Patty, smiling kindly at him. "We're just like you."

"Yes," said Gabriel again. His smile grew wider. Too wide. Remus' stomach grew cold. "Just… like… me."

"Is there a bathroom I can use?" Remus asked Ponymus quietly.

"You can't hold it in?" asked Ponymus. "We just got our fifth group member. I was thinking we could get a photo taken."

"I'll be quick," said Remus, his neck prickling as he felt the newcomer's eyes on him.

"Alright," said Ponymus. He jerked his head towards the hallway. "Second door on your left."

Remus nodded and made to hurry from the room.

"You know," said Gabriel loudly, "when I wrote you that letter, Ponymus, I had really hoped that you would bring some werewolves together like this."

Remus reached the door, hand on the handle, and hesitated.

"Of course!" Ponymus was beaming again. "You specifically requested that I start this club, after all. And here we are!"

"Yes… here you are." Gabriel's right hand reached into his pocket. "How ever can I thank you?"

His hand started to leave his pocket, and Remus couldn't just stand by and watch.

Remus whipped his wand out faster and pointed it at Gabriel. "Stupefy."

Gabriel went flying into the wall, hit it with a crack, and hit the ground, eyes closed.

"Remus, what the bloody hell are you doing?" cried Ponymus.

"Stay sharp," said Remus, peaking around the corner of the door leading to the rest of the house. "If this whole thing was a trap, then I doubt he came alone."

"A trap?"

Geoff and Patty had leaped to their feet, looking unsure whether to believe Remus or not.

Before he could say anything else to convince them, the garage shutter was blasted off its hinges and smashed into the little red car.

A dozen cloaked figures swarmed into the garage from the street outside, snarls and leers and cruel smiles on their faces. A swift red light cleaved Ponymus' open jaw from his face, and a jet of white light blasted a hole through his eye and out the back of his head.

"Werewolf scum!"

Patty disarmed two of them before a killing curse struck her on the leg, taking it from under her, and she hit the ground dead.

"Filthy half-breeds!"

Remus left the room, racing for the front door to the sound of Geoff's screams following him down the hallway. He opened the front door, saw that no cloaked figures were on the street, likely all distracted in the garage.

He ran a few paces down the street, swiping angry, hopeless, tortured tears from his face. There was no hope, no light at the end of the tunnel for a werewolf.

"I knew it," Remus muttered. "I bloody knew it."

One choked sob and pop later, he disapparated.

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Letters circulated between Seventh Year Hogwarts students en masse that week. The key theme? No one knew who the Head Boy was.

Had there been a mistake? An oversight? Was there no Head Boy? Why did no one have an answer?

James didn't engage in the speculation, as he didn't care in the slightest, but Lily was receiving at least five owls a day from their nosy and curious classmates asking if she was absolutely, positively sure that she hadn't been made aware of who the Head Boy was.

"I wish I'd been told," Lily complained to James as the two lazed about on couches in the living room. James was flicking through a Quidditch magazine and Lily was taking a letter from the leg of an owl that had just swooped in through an open window. "I mean, everyone thinks I know, anyway."

"You should start making up an answer," said James. "Say it's Peter or something."

"People trust me, James."

"Yeah, which is why it'll be hilarious."

"People trust me because I tell them the truth."

"Exactly. It's a great prank."

"I'm not going to do that."

James threw his head back and sighed. "But I'm so bored."

"Go over your shopping list for Diagon Alley then. We're doing our school shopping the day after tomorrow. Do you even know what you need?"

"I'll just buy what you buy."

"Not all our classes are the same, James. You need to read your Hogwarts letter."

"I don't even know where it is," he whined.

"It's been on the kitchen counter all week."

"That's so far away though."

"You have a wand."

He threw his head back and gave a loud, dramatic sigh. "Fine! Accio letter."

There was a whistling sound as his letter came careening through the air, and he caught it at such speed that it almost cut his hand.

James held the letter upside down over a side table and flicked his wand to slit the bottom open.

A badge fell out first, and then a long letter.

The badge clattered onto the side table. Lily's eyes darted to it. James stared at it. He felt Lily's eyes move to his face then, but he still didn't look away from the badge on the table.

There was a long silence.

"No," he said.

"Holy shit," breathed Lily.

"Please no."

"James." She stood up. "Oh my god."

"This is a joke."

"You're the-"

"Don't say it."

She came to a stop in front of him. "It's you."

"No."

"James... you're the Head Boy."

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Stellan Sickly wasn't like all the other information brokers.

In this time of war, they traded information around like it was muskets and munitions. Stellan treated the information he was privy to like precious ores, renowned works of art, and priceless archeological discoveries. It meant that when he divulged said information, his clients made it very, very well worth his while.

He didn't do freebies or favors. A secret with no price was little more than gossip for teenagers – everyone will know it before long.

Stellan was the consummate professional.

Because of all this, it completely ruined his day when, on an otherwise normal morning, he heard a knock on his door, and as soon as he opened it, he received a punch on the jaw so hard that it sent him stumbling back into the wall behind him.

"Mr Sickly."

He blinked quickly to get his vision into focus and stared aghast at the three figures at his front door. One was a tall, thin man, another was a shorter, rounder one. The third was a slim woman with a young face but stern expression. Her fist was clenched. She couldn't have been the one that punched him… right?

"Mr Sickly," the tall one said again, snapping his fingers. "Our time is short and our patience much shorter. My name is Fabian, and the short man to my right is my brother Gideon."

"Short, but much more handsome and muscular," said Gideon.

"And," said Fabian, ignoring his brother, "the no-nonsense Korean woman who just spun your jaw is Seo-Jun. She is an auror, and Field Commander in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I suggest you cooperate."

"But… " Stellan rubbed his jaw, "why did she punch me?"

"You're lucky I'm not arresting you," she said irritably. "I've read your file, Sickly."

He gulped.

"And it certainly doesn't help that, not too long ago, the three of us got beaten within an inch of our lives," said Fabian.

Now that Stellan looked closer, he saw that Fabian had his arm in a sling. Gideon's left eye was bloodshot. Seo-Jun just looked angry.

"What do you want from me?" Stellan asked weakly.

"Information."

"I don't do freebies."

"We're offering you the chance to not go to Azkaban today," snapped Seo-Jun. "What would you say that's worth?"

Stellan gulped again. "What do you want to know?"

"Stellan," said Fabian, stepping into the house and staring down at him, "we want you to tell us everything you've heard about the Life Eaters."

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Sirius had found the news hilarious. He'd laughed until he coughed, and then after breathing slowly and deeply he attempted to digest the news, before breaking into another fit of laughter. James had sat there shaking his head, allowing his friend to laugh – he would have done the same.

"This is shaping up to be the best year we've had at Hogwarts yet," Sirius had said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Shut it," James had grumbled.

Remus, looking tired as always, had reacted positively to the news. "You deserve it, James."

"More than you?"

"Head Boy isn't just about rules and discipline. It's about leadership. And you personify that quality."

Peter had said, "Congratulations." He wasn't the most outspoken person in the world, but James saw in his eyes the pride that Peter had for him.

Frank had clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Well done, mate."

Alice had given him a knowing smile. They didn't have much opportunity to talk these days – not really talk, the way they had when they'd dated. The others often commented that they'd all completely forgotten James and Alice had even dated in the first place, and the two preferred to keep it that way – especially for the sake of Frank and Lily. It was a courtesy thing. Regardless, he knew she was happy for him. He suspected she had even seen this coming.

Marlene had popped over briefly with Will. "I hope this doesn't mean you'll be too busy for Quidditch, Captain."

"Not on your life, McKinnon."

At the end of the day, James and Lily sat together in front of the fireplace, drinking hot cocoa.

"You know," she said, "now that I think about it, you were the obvious choice."

He scoffed. "Nonsense."

"You were. Like Remus said, you're a natural leader. The students all look up to you, and though historically you haven't exactly used that influence for good, in the last year you've more than made up for it."

He sighed. "It's just… so bizarre. It's not something I've ever wanted. Not even a little."

"Which is oftentimes a great indication that the correct person has been chosen."

"But Evans, I don't even know how to be a Head Boy. What does a Head Boy even do? I'm going to be terrible at it."

"James," she put her hand over his, "you're going to have me. You're Head Boy, and I'm Head Girl. Even though I've been a Prefect, I still think this task will be daunting for me. It's a big step up. So we'll be in this together."

He turned his hand over, and their fingers interlocked. "I like the sound of that."

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It wasn't enough, though. Late at night, James drafted a short letter to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He threw green Floo powder in the dying embers of the fireplace, threw in the letter he'd written, and sent it off to Hogwarts.

Dear Professor Dumbledore

I don't understand. How could you possibly think I'm Head Boy material? I've broken every rule in the book. I've had so many different detentions that McGonagall's stopped giving me creative punishments and just tells me to write lines. Sure, I cleaned up my act last year, I behaved, I did a bit of light tutoring here and there, so what? You surely must know I'm not cut-out for it. Is it some kind of joke on your part?

Sincerely

James Potter

It took less than twenty minutes for the response to come.

James had been pacing in front of the fireplace, somehow knowing that Dumbledore's response would be swift, somehow knowing that the headmaster would have foreseen and understood James' trepidation and have the perfect words prepared to put him at ease.

At least, James hoped as much.

A thin roll of parchment came flying out of the dying embers of the fireplace, and the effort put the embers out completely, darkening the room.

James lit his wand up, picked up the parchment, and read it.

Mr James Potter

You, my dear boy, are nothing short of the perfect choice to be a Head Boy. You have your father's sense of duty and honor, your mother's commitment to love and protect those who need it, whether they are close to you or not. You have learned humility before even reaching adulthood – a feat that most adults, even up to my own age, fail to accomplish. As such, I see your misdeeds before this point as completely inconsequential. A prelude, if you will, to the man you are today. You are a leader, James, and I have never had greater need for one of your caliber than in the world we live in today.

It may interest you to know that of the Fifth Year students you tutored last year, ninety percent scored either an Outstanding or Exceeds Expectations in their O.W.L exams. The other ten percent had been failing their tests and assignments by wide margins, and they scored an Acceptable in their O.W.L.s. To call what you did for those students 'light tutoring' would be a disservice to yourself, and to the vocation of teaching, and as a teacher I cannot allow you to speak that way about what you and what those students accomplished. Be proud of yourself, James. You are allowed to be.

Needless to say, my decision is final. You will be Hogwart's Head Boy this year, James, and this school will be all the better for it.

From your frightfully proud Headmaster

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

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"Do you know who I am?" yelled the red-faced man, his face mashed against the ground of his own office. "Do you have any idea what you've unleashed upon yourself?"

His name was Scalabrine, and he was a collector and seller of artefacts infused with dark magic. His limbs were frozen for the time being, and he was only able to move his head. Two investigators from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were inspecting every inch of the room to ensure none of it was cursed before they could call in a crew to take all this stuff away for storage.

Edgar Bones, after hexing Scalabrine and calling in the two investigators, had sat in the chair at Scalabrine's large mahogany desk, and gloated.

"What have I unleashed upon myself, Scalabrine?" he called, putting his feet up on the desk. "Please tell me."

Scalabrine lifted his neck off the ground a little to glare at Edgar. "You've unleashed my- my wrath."

"Oh, no."

"Yeah. I'm going to be wrathful."

"That sounds terrifying."

"Yeah, just… so full of wrath."

"I'm shaking in my boots." Edgar picked up a book on Scalabrine's desk and began flicking through it. "Wow, your calendar. That's exciting."

"Put that down," screamed Scalabrine. "Put that down right now."

"But it's so interesting," said Edgar, scanning the man's schedule for each day. "Two o'clock, change diaper." Edgar peered down at Scalabrine, too shocked to even laugh at this. "Change diaper?"

"I have a degenerative disease," Scalabrine mumbled into the ground.

"Wow…" Edgar tilted his head. "Would it be cruel of me to laugh at you for that?"

"Yes."

"Well, you sell evil objects to evil people for a living, so… ha, ha."

Scalabrine made a tortured sound from the ground.

Edgar paused on a certain day in the calendar and frowned. "Shadow Hand Gala. What's that?"

A pause.

"Nothing," said Scalabrine.

"That's convincing," muttered Edgar. He ripped the page out and stuffed it in his pocket. "I'll have to look into that."

"It nothing," Scalabrine insisted. "Just a- a friendly gathering."

"Of who?"

"Likeminded people."

"You might as well tell me everything," Edgar said frankly. "Either way we'll have you locked up on that day."

Scalabrine sighed, then banged his head against the floor. "It's a meeting of thousands of people from the wizarding underworld – the largest ever of its kind."

"Wow," said Edgar slowly, his free hand playing with the gold chain around his neck. "Thanks for that, Scalabrine. Today has been very productive indeed." He paused. "Not for you, though. Obviously."

"I hate you," came Scalabrine's muffled voice.

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It seemed that everyone had decided to do their school shopping in Diagon Alley on the exact same day. It was packed, and everywhere the teens looked there were familiar faces.

James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Frank, Alice, and Marlene stood at the entrance, just looking at the throng of people. Will and his friends had returned to Poland the previous day. It was the first time they had met, just the seven of them, for a long time. They all knew that each of them was thinking the same thing.

This time last year, they had all been in Diagon Alley putting their lives on the line for the first time to fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. So much had happened since then.

"Hard to believe it's been a year," James said quietly.

A few hums in response.

"What's more weird for me," said Frank, "is that this time, I'm not here to buy anything. No more school for me."

"Old man," said Sirius.

Frank smirked.

"We should split up," said Alice. "Trying to fight our way through this crowd with seven people will be a chore."

Lily nodded. "Then shall we meet back at the Leaky Cauldron in, say, two hours?"

They each nodded and went their separate ways.

Peter, having stayed quiet the whole time, headed off by himself. It wasn't often he went anywhere by himself. He wasn't exactly a very self-sufficient person. But thinking about their adventure in Diagon Alley last year had him in a very reflective mood.

That was the first time he had felt like he'd made a difference – been an actual contributor to the team.

He wanted to feel like that some more.

What would James do?

This year, Peter vowed to himself, he would strive to be the version of himself that he'd always wanted to be. His best self.

He stopped by Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour to pick up a double scoop of chocolate chip and strawberry, and nodded. This was his year.

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"Five Galleons," said Lily, as she and James strolled through Eeylops Owl Emporeum, "is a lot to pay for some Owl treats."

James looked at her and grinned. It was difficult for both of them to believe that it had been a year since that day in Diagon Alley. It was even more crazy for them to consider just how different things were now. In the world, in their personal lives… and between each other.

As they strolled, their arms would brush against each other's. In fact, they took every chance they got to absent-mindedly touch each other. Neither teen even noticed they were doing so, but their fingers would brush or James would have a reassuring hand on the small of her back or they'd sit with their legs touching, and despite how pleasing the sensation was for each of them they didn't even notice when it happened.

If asked, neither teen would be able to precisely describe the relationship that had developed between the two of them. But it was something. That much was obvious to anyone with half a brain. It was certainly something.

And for now, as far as James and Lily were concerned, that was enough.

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Frank and Alice, their shopping done, reached the Leaky Cauldron early. As they searched for a table, they spotted some familiar faces.

At a table tucked into a corner of the pub, Edgar Bones sat with Gideon and Fabian Prewett as well as a woman Frank hadn't seen before.

"You go say hi, I'll line up to get us some butterbeers," said Alice.

As Frank approached the table, he overheard a snippet of their conversation.

"-called the Shadow Hand Gala," Edgar was saying. "Ever heard of it?"

The woman nodded. "We interrogated a well known information broker the other day. Not only do we know about it, we know where it's going to be and how to get there."

"Wow," said Edgar. "Fancy that."

"Frank Longbottom," said Gideon loudly, smiling at him as he drew near. "How's it going?"

"Not bad," said Frank, grinning. "It's good to see you guys."

"How did your Auror exam go?" asked Fabian.

"Brilliant - I passed! Now I just need to log my intern hours before I can start training."

"Congratulations, Frank," said Edgar. "You're a very talented young man. I knew you wouldn't have a problem with it."

"You know, Frank," said Fabian, looking thoughtful, "our meeting you here today is actually extremely fortuitous."

The woman frowned. "It is?"

"Hmm, we do need the numbers," said Gideon. "And Edgar refuses to come with us."

"Like I said before, this is a very busy time for me," said Edgar apologetically. "I wish I could, but you guys are on your own."

"So what do you say, Frank?" asked Gideon. "Are you in?"

Frank stared. "I have absolutely no clue what the hell you guys are talking about."

"It's very simple," said Fabian. He lifted his right arm. It was in a sling. "See this sling? We got our asses kicked by some dangerous people not too long ago, and now we've decided to lock them away for the sake of public safety."

"And for the sake of our pride," added Gideon.

"What dangerous people?" asked Frank.

"They call themselves the Life Eaters," said the woman. "A new group of violent insurgents, as if we didn't have enough of those already. No one knows exactly what they want. The bastards caught me by surprise, knocked me our during the fight before I could do anything."

"Ah, how rude of us," said Fabian. "Frank, this is Seo-Jun. She's an auror, and she has a great sense of humor when she hasn't been very recently ambushed by some homicidal maniacs and had her entire squad killed."

"Thanks for the reminder," growled Seo-Jun.

"She's a field commander," said Gideon.

"Awesome," said Frank, unsure what else to say.

"Which means," said Fabian, "if you come with us, I'm sure we could set things up so that the time you spend helping us out will count towards your intern hours. Right, Seo-Jun?"

She looked at Frank appraisingly, then nodded. "I'd be happy to do that for you, Frank."

Frank thought for a moment. He considered the long office hours of boring admin work he would be facing if he accepted Mr Pesling's offer to intern for him for the year. Then he considered the adventure and excitement that was bound to be in store while working with the Prewett brothers.

It was really no contest.

"I'm definitely in," he said.

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Millicent Bagnold flicked her wand to open her front door when she heard the knock.

Into her home stepped a tall man with a waist length silver beard, crooked nose, and half-moon spectacles.

"I said no," Millicent told Albus Dumbledore.

"And I'm here to politely ask you to reconsider," Dumbledore said simply, clasping his hands behind his back and smiling.

She sighed. "The Hogwarts term starts in a matter of days, Dumbledore. Do you not think this is a tad late to bring in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"I find myself in need of a new one every year, Ms Bagnold," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure you can appreciate that it's starting to become quite difficult these days to secure one in time. I need you."

"I won't have time to write up a syllabus for the students."

"I have taken the liberty of writing one for you," said Dumbledore. "The students have already received their book lists, and I'd imagine they've all finished up their shopping by now. All that is required is someone to teach the content."

She gave a loud sigh of frustration. "I'm intending to make a campaign for the top job, Minister of Magic, in a few years. It's not going to be easy, and I'll have to work very, very hard for it. Is this really the best way for me to use my time, do you think? It's teaching, Dumbledore."

He smiled. "You mean shaping the next generation of young wizards and witches? If you wish to be the next Minister, Ms Bagnold, I do not think there is a single better way for you to use your time, if I am being quite frank."

She looked at him for a few seconds. Then, finally, she gave another, louder, more frustrated sigh. "Okay. Damn you, Dumbledore. Okay."

He smiled simply and said nothing.

"You are a very frustrating man, Professor Dumbledore."

"Thank you for accepting my offer, Professor Bagnold."

She snorted and shook her head. "Very, very frustrating man."

"Term starts September 1st. I shall eagerly wait to see what you have in store for our bright young witches and wizards."

"Yeah, yeah, I already said I'd do it," she grumbled. "You can go now."

His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. Then, with a flash of white light, he was gone.

"That," she grumbled to herself, "is a man who is much too used to getting exactly what he wants."

She looked around at all her things strewn about her home.

"I have to pack now," she realized.

She threw her head back and gave one final, incredibly frustrated sigh.

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Once James and Lily had finished packing their things, they sat down together at the dinner table one more time, and they talked for hours. They talked about the coming year, the things they were excited about, the things they were nervous about, and everything in between.

Their silences were comfortable, and filled with quiet companionship. And when they talked, they were grinning from ear to ear, absolutely delighted to be around one another.

Eventually, Lily leaned back in her seat and looked at him earnestly. "Thank you, James."

"Hmm?" he said absentmindedly, scratching his head.

"For inviting me into your home. These last few months with you… I can't even begin to tell you how much I've enjoyed them. Nor can I possibly quantify just how much it means to me."

James smiled, and felt his heart grow warm. "Lily, as far as I'm concerned… any place that I call home is a place that you can call home too."

She gave him a look identical to the way that he felt. "I- Thank you."

"I mean that for Christmas break, Easter break, even when we finish at Hogwarts. Whenever, Evans. Always."

The look that passed between them then was indescribable. They had never told each other just how much they loved one another, but any third party who bore witness to this moment would know it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

These two young fools were hopelessly, indelibly, unreservedly in love.

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Anton Windstrum, one of the most wanted wizards on the continent by every side of the war there was, sat atop the roof of a commercial law firm in the dead of night, watching the movements on the street below.

He curled and uncurled the fingers of his wooden left hand. Occasionally, he could feel the wand core built into his prosthetic wooden arm, constructed by Gregorovitch himself, pulse with power. It was an electrifying sensation.

"You, old friend, look very confused."

Anton glanced to his side, saw Caradoc Dearborn perched beside him on the rooftop, looking just as he had in the moments before Anton had killed him.

"I'm fine," Anton muttered.

"You don't look fine."

"Leave me alone, 'Doc."

Ever since his experience in the Valley of the Dead back in Germany, Anton had been seeing his dead best friend everywhere. It used to unnerve him, or he'd try to pretend he couldn't see it. Of late though, Anton had been engaging the dead man like he was really there. Seeing as he was just a figment of Anton's own imagination, he could at least be assured of quality conversation.

Lately it was getting annoying, though.

Caradoc laughed. "Leaving you alone isn't up to me, Anton. It's you. You can't get over the guilt. You killed me, your best friend, in cold blood. A part of your brain is choosing to see me."

Anton didn't respond. Kept his eyes on the street.

"So…" said Caradoc, "you don't know what to do with yourself now. Betrayed Voldemort and now he wants you dead. Betrayed Dumbledore, twice, and now he wants you imprisoned. Betrayed the Life Eaters, and Lilandra won't forget that any time soon. She could probably implode your whole body with a mere gesture."

"Caradoc Dearborn didn't know about Lilandra and her lapdogs."

"I'm a figment of your imagination, Anton. I know everything you know."

"Well, you ruin the immersion when you say things like that."

"What's the plan, Anton?" Caradoc pressed. "You have no more friends. No allies. No one trusts you, and so you have no one to trust."

"I'll just do what I always do."

Caradoc laughed. "And what would that be?"

"Whatever I want."

"Ah!" Caradoc lifted a finger. "Now you've hit the nail right on the head. What do you want, Anton?"

It was a good question. Did he still want wizards to rule over Muggles?

No, he realized. He didn't want to rule over anyone. Not after having experienced what it was like to be ruled over, treated like little more than a slave by the Dark Lord. Be that as it may, he still believed that the current state of the world made no sense – the powerless roaming free while the powerful cowered in the shadows. It was an abhorration of natural order.

But, after being tortured at the hand of the Dark Lord on a mere whim, Anton knew that he did not want to see a world ruled over by that man. No matter the cost.

"I want to kill him," Anton realized aloud.

Caradoc nodded approvingly. "What are you waiting for, then? Go do it."

"Yeah, I-" Anton paused. Down on the street, a man walked out of a building on the other side of the road. White bowler hat, white leather shoes. A very specific description. Anton's target. "First I have some money to make."

Anton leaped from the rooftop, casting a cushioning charm at the ground below as he plummeted.

He had taken on work as a mercenary over the last few weeks. Well-paying gigs, like assassinations, robberies, and high-profile bodyguard duty. It involved a lot of face-altering charms. He knew that the moment he revealed his face to anyone, client or not, he would find himself next on the list of assassinations.

The cushioning charm slowed his descent dramatically just before he hit the ground, and when he hit it he sprinted immediately.

His target didn't even see him coming.

A flash of green light later, the man with the white bowler hat and white leather shoes hit the ground, dead.

The unappetizing part of job came next. Anton cast a slicing charm, severing the man's head clean from the rest of his body. Blood spurted and gushed, quickly pooling around the body.

Anton flicked the bowler hat away, gripped the head by the hairs closest to the skull, and lifted it. It weighed about as much as a large pumpkin, which had caught Anton by surprise on his first time, years ago. This was the only way to get paid for a hit-job. The only way, in a world of magic, that an employer could actually verify the kill.

Anton spotted something poking out of the headless man's breast pocket. It was an elaborately decorated piece of parchment.

Anton pulled the parchment from the man's pocket with his free hand, the wooden one, and shook it so it unfurled. At the top, in large, thick letters, was written Shadow Hand Gala. Below this was a short list of some high-profile invitees.

"Interesting," said Anton, scanning the parchment in one hand and holding aloft the bleeding stump of a head in the other. "Very interesting."

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The morning of September 1st found many people moving in many different ways.

James and Lily, fingers intertwined, shared one last private glance before they turned on the spot and apparated to King's Cross Station for the last time.

Marlene woke up late, having had a rather embarrassing dream about Sirius. She was sweating.

"I can't control what I dream about," she told herself as she hurriedly threw her clothes on. "There's no need to feel guilty."

Sirius, having woken up early for once and doing his utmost not to think of Marlene, spent his morning in a Muggle vehicle shop, looking at a motorbike. With the clock ticking closer to eleven, when the Hogwarts Express was due to depart, he smiled determinedly at the bike and nodded to himself. "One day."

Remus had been on the train from the second it pulled into the station at nine in the morning. He currently rested his head against the window, fast asleep.

Peter was still asleep. It was really a toss of a coin on whether or not he'd make it to the station in time. His self-titled 'Year of Peter' was off to a smashing start.

Alice was trying not to get emotional as she said goodbye to Frank. A long-distance relationship would not be easy, especially given how dangerous his year was shaping up to be.

Frank, for his part, was simultaneously sad to say bye to Alice, but very excited to begin his Auror internship hours in what looked like the most exciting fashion possible.

The Prewett brothers and Seo-Jun stood at Frank's front door, watching the teens whisper lovingly to each other. Seo-Jun's foot tapped impatiently. "Will you two hurry up?" she snapped eventually.

Anton had woken up early in the morning from a nightmare. This was usual by now. The nightmare changed each time, but it was always just as bloody, just as chilling. As usual, instead of going back to sleep, he got started with his day, walking side by side with Caradoc. He ignored what Caradoc had to say. Anton had things to do.

Around the world, the various, limitless, relentless forces of evil rallied and prepared to each make their respective moves and marks upon the world.

It mattered not, as those who were prepared to put their lives on the line to stop those forces were rejuvenated, inspired, and emboldened to tackle a brand new year.

That morning, even if only for a flickering, fleeting moment, all was well.

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