A/N Nope still don't own anything. Noboby has offered to give me anything either. Ah well. Guess I should write more. . .
I did not want this. To this day I still wonder about the path I have chosen. The responsibility should be too much for anyone to bear, yet I continue to see those around me deal with atrocity after atrocity. . . heartache after heartache. Every single day brings a new dilemma to our doorstep and every evening brings it's cataclysmic ending, like a phoenix, a new crisis born from the ashes of the most recently defeated.
What a wonderfully ironic metaphor. Remus would love that one.
In the beginning, I simply followed Albus when he chose the lifestyle he did. I had no interest in fighting dark wizards, and unlike him, I had no real emotion vested in the demise of Voldemort. Of course, that would all change with time, like it would for so many others in our peer group.
We formed the Order in the mid 70's, during Voldemort's original reign of terror. Of course, we didn't really have a set name then, it was more a meeting of the minds, as it were. Mostly it was others from the faculty, but there was a general mish-mash of others who started working closely with us when attacks became frequent. We acquired Aurors, Squibs, Ministry officials. . . I think Albus would have drafted students who were still in school had I allowed him to. No matter how hard we tried, though, our numbers were dwindling rapidly while Voldemort's were increasing exponentially. For every Death Eater we captured, three more sprang up in his place. It was worse than fighting a hydra.
With every new batch of recruits Albus managed to bring in to the Order, we lost twice as many veterans to the Death Eaters. It was an absolute nightmare. Half of the members from the Order turned up missing, or dead, or worse. It looked black for us, and there was no light at the end of the tunnel. . .
. . . and then he was gone. Just like that. Amazing, really, the relief I felt at hearing the words from Albus' mouth.
But there was an infinite sadness that day as well. Sure, Voldemort was gone, but he had taken with him two of the most promising young wizards I had ever met, and left their infant son an orphan. It was a travesty, but a joyful one. I remember sitting on the floor with Albus while we laughed and cried in turns once the truth hit us.
I offered to take Harry in myself when I heard what had happened, but Albus thought it best if we place him with Lily's sister. She was a Muggle, true, but it would be much harder for any Death Eaters to find him there. He did allow me the suggestion of placing my sister Arabella on his watch. She was a stalwart member of the Order and had married a Muggle, so could blend in impeccably.
Plus, I must admit, I would get to keep an unobtrusive eye on Harry, which was a definite addition to the plan. I got to keep track of his growth from afar, while still keeping the appearance of anonymity.
I am quite proud of him, truth be told. That young man has handled everything we have thrown at him with a grace a dignity that would belie his young age. True, he does not have quite the gift his father had for transfiguration (though he would undoubtedly improve should he decide to study more frequently) but he promises to be a formidable wizard when he matures, especially with the added bonuses of Ms. Granger's intelligence and Mr. Weasley's bravado to help him along. Lily and James should be proud of their son.
Merlin knows I am.