(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, and my situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by copyrights.)

(Note to all readers under 13: And, as most of you have probably suspected, the older these four grow, the darker the story is going to get. So, remember that my rating is PG-13, and this chapter is not suitable for anyone under 13 because of scary moments, and death.)

(Blooper alert: I can't believe I did this one! But thanks to Day Star of Twilight for pointing it out. They're seventeen, therefore they are not underage wizards any longer. I was under the impression that they weren't allowed to use magic until they left school, but after rereading about Fred and George in OotP, I realize that you're right. I goofed. Yes, they are aloud to use magic. Thanks, Day Star.)

As they climbed into bed, Remus took the mattress once again, and Sirius had taken the floor in dog form. Remus knew that he was luckier than others in the world. He hadn't felt the wolf inside of him for almost a year. Well, of course the wolf was always there, but the wolf couldn't hurt him anymore.

"You awake?"

Remus turned around to face James. His hair was mussed, and he was dressed in his Muggle clothes. He was holding Sirius's keys. Remus hadn't even heard him get up. He yawned, and sat up.

"Yeah," he said, "Where are you going?"

"For a walk," James said, "Decided to see the city at night. You want to come?"

"Sure," Remus stood, and then walked into Sirius's room, "I'll be right out. I've got to get dressed."

The two boys stepped outside of the building, and into the drizzled streets of London. Snow covered the ground, but the sidewalks were shoveled, and they had no problem walking on the pavement and down the block to the streetlight.

Muggles stood on every corner, it seemed like, singing carols and songs quietly. Chestnuts were being sold on the street, and Christmas trees were lit in every single house.

"It is sort of odd," Remus said, "How there are two worlds in one. I mean, those Muggles over there have no idea that there's such a thing as Voldemort, as Dark Magic, as Death Eaters. Let alone Hogwarts, Diagon Alley . . . they don't know anything."

"And they're happier for it," James said, as they crossed a street, "Sometimes I envy them. Sometimes I just wish I could . . ."

"You could what?" Remus asked.

James sighed, and his breath came out cold in the icy air, "I don't know . . . become one of them? Just run away and hide."

"Good luck," Remus muttered, and they jumped up on the curb.

"You missing your family?" James asked.

"Not really," he replied truthfully, "They're probably having a romantic night right now. Just the thought of it makes me sick."

James laughed, and nodded, "Yeah, I know."

"You still looking into Quidditch when you graduate?" Remus asked.

James shrugged, and didn't answer. They turned a corner.

"You still looking into teaching?"

Remus nodded, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets, "All I've been thinking about lately. I was hoping that Dumbledore could give me a job."

"Have you asked him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"He has better things on his mind," Remus said.

James nodded in agreement, and then looked around. The smell of the chestnuts were in their noses. The streetlights beat down upon them as James looked toward the park that was silent and dark on the other side of the busy street.

"Are you wanting to get mugged?" Remus asked as James turned toward it.

But James kept looking at it. He was squinting, as if trying to make something out in the blackness that surrounded the trees.

"What is it?" Remus asked, following his gaze.

"There are people in there," James pointed his finger, "Look. They're all walking to the same place."

"What? I don't see . . ." Remus looked closer, and then saw the sight that James was referring to. At least ten grown men, cloaked in black and disguising their faces behind masks, were entering the park, holding their arms.

"Come on," James said, walking in the opposite direction. But Remus grabbed his arm, and tugged him back.

"No, this way," Remus said, keeping his voice at a whisper. Then they crossed the street, and dove into the darkness after the hooded men.

James wanted to leave. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be in the park . . . they were Death Eaters, he knew it. They wanted to kill him, and he was just walking straight into their trap.

But Remus wouldn't let go of his arm. They crawled into the bushes as the sidewalk opened into a circle of pavement, and the men stood side by side on the edge of the grass. In the middle was a taller figure, his face hidden from view. He did not have a mask on to disguise his face. He did not fear anyone.

He was all powerful.

"My Lord," one of the voices came from the other side of the circle, "Are you sure that it is safe for us to meet in such a public place?"

"You underestimate me," the man in the middle said. His voice was high, raspy. James shuddered when he heard it, "It is Christmas. No Muggle or wizard would be out this late on the most wonderful night of the year."

There was a little laughing from behind the masks. But it wasn't really a laugh. More of a jeer.

"Silence," the voice hissed, "I have called you all here tonight, my most trusted followers, to know the names of the recruits."

"The recruits, my Lord," another voice came, "Well, you see . . . we don't exactly have the names of the recruits."

The leader turned around, and stared at the Death Eater that had spoken. But he didn't say a word. He raised his wand, and pointed it straight at his head.

"Crucio," he snarled.

The man fell to the ground, convulsing in agony. All of his limbs were shaking, his eyes rolled back in his head. He screamed out in pain, and Remus turned away. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Get up," the man ordered, and waved his wand again. The man, shaking from head to toe, forced himself to his feet.

James couldn't feel himself breathing. He knew who this monster was. He had feared him through most of his life. He was the reason for his sister's death. He was the reason for his father being who he was.

It was Lord Voldemort.

"And give me your excuse," Voldemort snarled at the weakening man, "Why do you not have those recruit's names?"

"We sent a spy to shadow Alastor Moody," he tried to explain, but his teeth were still chattering, "But they knew we were coming. They never said the names out loud. And then they burnt the paper on which the names were written."

"Then why didn't you kill him and pry the paper from his dead fingers," Voldemort snarled, drawing closer to the man. The statement was more of a demand than a question, "Do you think that it matters to me if that washed up Auror is killed?"

"He is close to Dumbledore, and . . ."

"THAT IS EXACTLY WHY YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM!" he bellowed, and pointed his wand right at the man's mask, "YOU INSOLENT FOOL! WE HAVE FIVE MORE MONTHS UNTIL THE RECRUITS ARE SENT TO THEIR HEADQUARTERS! TIME IS RUNNING OUT!"

"I am sorry, master!" the man pleaded. Voldemort was close enough for the Death Eater to smell his breath.

"This is what happened last year," Voldemort hissed from behind his hood, "This is exactly what happened last year. I put YOU in charge of finding the names of the recruits, and what do you do? You bring me the list of the previous year!"

"But that was helpful, wasn't it?" the man said, not very sure that it was.

"We already knew about Sturgis Podmore," he growled, "No, it was useless. And I am tiring of you and your insolence!"

Voldemort raised his wand, and the man fell to his knees, holding his hands together in prayer.

"Oh, please, Master," he begged, "Oh please don't kill me! I swear, I will never disappoint you again."

"You're right," the Dark Lord pointed his wand at the man's head, "You won't."

And then James saw the sight that would stay with him for the rest of his life. That man, the one that the world feared, the one that thousands had given their life to, whispered one spell. That's all it took. Just two words in a moment to show how truly evil he was.

"Aveda Kedavera."

A green light flashed in front of Remus's and James's eyes, and they held a hand over their faces. But James could still see the green hit the groveling man square in the chest, and then fly out of his back. If he could have seen his face, he would have seen one of a blank, fearing expression. Like Wendy's.

There was no scream. There was no last cry for mercy. There was silence.

And then the green light vanished, and the dead body of the Death Eater lay, sprawled out in front of Voldemort.

James felt himself let out a wail of horror, and Remus slammed his hand over his friend's mouth. But it was too late. Voldemort's head shot in their direction, and they could make out the shadow of his face as his eyes glared at them.

He was just a man. And yet, James felt as if he would die just looking into his eyes.

"Two boys," he hissed to the Death Eaters, "Kill them. They have heard too much."

James and Remus shot out of the bushes, and flew towards the outskirts of the park. They had to get into the streetlight. They had to get to where people could see them. James knew it wouldn't matter. They would kill them no matter where they were. They would kill them.

He was a dead man.

"YOU! STOP!" a Death Eater shouted from behind them, gaining on them.

"Expelliramus!" Remus said, pointing his wand behind him. The Death Eater flew against a tree, and fell to the ground.

"DON'T LOOK THEM IN THE EYES!" Remus shouted as him and James jumped over a bench.

"Crucio!"

"AAA!"

Remus stumbled to the ground as pain veered through his entire body. His eyes rolled back in his sockets, and he screamed in pain. He kicked the snow into the air, and it covered him. He arched his back, and hit his head against a tree trunk.

"LUPIN!" James screamed, and stopped in his tracks.

"G-GO!" he cried through his pain, "R-RUN!"

James saw the Death Eaters coming closer. They were trapped. He could make a break for it, but at the cost of his friend's life. He made his choice, and ran in front of Remus, who was still convulsing on the ground behind the bench.

"Something messes with one of us, it messes with all of us," he whispered under his breath, and faced the oncoming murderers, wand pointed at them.

They came to a halt, and stared at him. Then they began to laugh.

"Silence!"

The park went quiet, as the man who had killed the Death Eater parted the crowd of his followers, and stood to stare at James.

James lowered his eyes. He couldn't let them know who he was. He couldn't put his family in danger. He couldn't die. He wouldn't die.

"Ah, you are one of the smarter ones," Voldemort commented, "Now move, before we kill you as well."

James didn't budge, and stared at the ground. He would not let his friends die. He would not let his family die. He would kill this monster first. Even if he himself would have to be killed in the process.

A flash of a memory came back to his mind, and it played itself out on the pavement as he waited for Voldemort to kill him.

"There are things worth fighting for," his father had said.

He felt a new rage boil inside him, and stared Voldemort in the eyes again.

But now Voldemort wasn't looking at him. He was staring behind him, his expression one of fear.

"Albus is coming," he hissed to his followers, "We leave."

"But they know too much, my Lord!" one of the Death Eaters protested.

"We have their names," he snarled, "That one is Lupin, as this boy so kindly pointed out in his screaming," he looked back to James, "And . . ."

James felt his head sear with pain. All of his memories spilled out in front of his eyes. His first birthday, meeting Sirius, Wendy telling him her bedtime story, seeing Lily for the first time . . .

"AARRGGH!" he fell to the ground, holding his head. He wanted to tear his mind out. Stop the pain! Stop the pain!

And then it stopped.

He looked back at Voldemort, gasping and trying to get his bearings. Voldemort was smiling.

"And that one is Potter's boy," he sneered, "Like taking after your father, hey?"

"Let's kill them now!"

"We have no time to," he said, "Let them sit a while on what they have heard. We know their names," he stared at James again, but this time in curiosity or possible in interest at this boy with courage, "Let our little heroes think about what damage they could have caused."

And then they were gone. All of them.

Remus sat up, in a daze. He was still shaking uncontrollably, and his face was tightened.

"I t-told y-you not to l-look in their eyes," he stammered, "Haven't y-you ever h-heard of Le-Legilimency?" Each word was a trial to speak.

Footsteps. Footsteps on the other side of them. Many of them.

And then he saw them appear from the midst of the snow. Like ghosts from the alleyway, they came.

Five of them, all walking in a line, wands out, and faces of determination. In the middle, was Albus Dumbledore.

"OVER HERE!" James screamed, almost crying. His head still ached from the pain.

Dumbledore heard his voice, and his eyes grew larger.

They ran forward, past the street, cloaks billowing from behind. A large black man with a bald head stumbled to Remus, who had fallen back into the snow and was trying to get a hold of himself.

James ran to Dumbledore, who was staring at him in surpirse.

"What are you doing here, James?" he said sternly. All merriness in his voice was gone. Professor McGonagall appeared from behind him, horrorstruck as she stared at Remus on the ground.

"They know our names!" James screamed, almost hysterical, "They're going to kill us! They . . . "

"Calm down, James," he said, "Now what did you hear?"

"They . . . they all met over there," he pointed to the circle, "And then Voldemort . . . "

"Voldemort?" a voice came from behind them. It was Frank Longbottom, holding his wand out to the darkness.

"Voldemort was here?" Dumbledore asked, calmer than the rest.

"Yes," James said, "And he . . . he killed someone because he didn't have the names of some recruits. Five recruits. And then he saw that we were here . . . and they tried to kill Remus . . . and now they know our names . . ."

"What were you doing here in the first place?" Frank asked, walking over to flank Dumbledore's other shoulder.

"We w-were t-taking a w-walk," Remus said from behind James. He was trying to support himself on his helper's shoulder as he shakily stood, "And t- then . . . w-we saw them all . . ."

"Minerva, take these two back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore interrupted, and Professor McGonagall grabbed James, and ushered for the man to help Remus to walk out of the park, "Frank, I want you to send owls to Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Lily Evans."

"No, Albus," Professor McGonagall protested, stopping in the middle of her tracks halfway to the sidewalk, "It isn't time yet."

"If we don't warn them, then they will have no time left at all," Dumbledore said, turning to her, "They are not children anymore, Minerva. We cannot protect them for much longer," then he turned back towards Frank, and added, "Straight away. Tell them to meet us there. It is urgent."

James, as if in a dream, followed his shaking friend and the two adults out of the park, and to an alleyway, where an old pizza box sat in the corner of a dumpster.

"Touch it," Professor McGonagall instructed the two boys.

And they were gone. The alleyway was quiet again, and no Muggle that had been passing would have known that anything had happened.

Muggles were the lucky ones. They knew nothing. Ignorance surrounded them, and they were the happier for it.