(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, or my
situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by
copyrights.)
(Blooper alerts: Here are the latest bloopers. I can't believe I did this! After I write the entire story out, I'll go back and correct these. Thank you, readers, for pointing them out. Moody drank from James's tea cup. He never drinks from anything but his hip flask. Also, the Quidditch game couldn't have happened the way it did, because Harry caught it in a matter of minutes, and he broke a record. Thank you for telling me about these.)
(About the Order's secrecy: I imagine the first Order as sort of a current events myth. Like Robin Hood and his Merry Men, or any other rag tag team of heroes in older literature. Everyone knew that they existed, but there was no proof, and not everyone knew who was involved with them. I believe this because it says that they didn't have anything on the Death Eaters, and that not only them, but their families were getting killed. This means that the members were not only killed in battle, but they were also just plain out murdered by Voldemort and his group. This means that the Death Eaters must have known who they were, if it meant that the Daily Prophet got a hold of a name, or someone infiltrated the Ministry or Order, or got a hold of a list. But they knew who the members were. And therefore, while it was supposed to be a secret agency, it didn't exactly turn out that way. I don't know. This is how I envision it. As I said, views of what happened for these three years will differ from reader to reader, and I'm just writing it the way that I see it happening.)
That night, they were told to go to sleep at midnight. Everyone in the Order had left during their trip to the Ministry of Magic, and now the house was empty except for Lily, James, Remus, Sirius, Peter, and, of course, Mad-Eye Moody.
This didn't exactly intrigue Sirius.
This meant that the sleep-depraved recruits were to keep awake until midnight. Moody had set them in the living room, around the fireplace, and warned them that if he caught them asleep before 12:00, he'd hex them into an insomnia spell and force them awake. This was enough motivation to keep the zombie-like Sirius to keep conscience.
He sat on the couch, mumbling to himself, and rubbing his bloodshot eyes. Six hours of sleep for three days. It wasn't healthy. Six hours of sleep.
God, all he wanted was his bed. All he wanted was for the torture to end.
A twenty some hour day hadn't done any of them any good. They were all nodding off as they watched the clock that would admit them their release. Moody sat in the chair, wide awake, and reading the paper.
"We run a tight schedule here," he said, "You must be always vigilant. Break your sleeping patterns so that at any given time, you are alert and aware of your surroundings."
Sirius grumbled something about abuse, and then started to stare into the fire. His vision was blurry. He needed his pillow. He needed to sleep.
And finally, the clock's bell tolled, and the five of them dragged themselves from the living room, and upstairs. Sirius felt as if he was floating as he crossed to his door, and opened it.
"Good night," James yawned, opening his own door. Lily sleepily kissed James sweet dreams, and then trudged over to her own door.
"Yeah," Sirius mumbled feverishly as he walked the length of his room (it seemed longer than before), "Yeah, night."
He felt himself drop into his broken bed, and his head touch his pillow.
And then he slept.
"Don't make a move."
Sirius's eyes shot open, and he saw a knife pointed at his throat. He froze. It was the knife that Remus had given him for Christmas.
The attacker's face was in the shadows, and he couldn't tell who it was. It was still night. The attacker made a slashing movement with his weapon, missing Sirius by inches.
"You're dead," the attacker snarled, and the pocketed the knife.
And then the attacker's face was hit by the streetlight outside.
"You crazy git!" Sirius barked, throwing Moody off of his bed, "Waking me up in the middle of the night! Holding a knife to my throat!"
Moody's eye swiveled to look at him, "Good morning, Mr. Black."
"What?" Sirius said, desbelievingly, "Do you know the difference between night and day? Night is when it's dark! That's when we sleep! Day is when the big giant orange orb in the sky is up. That's when we wake up!"
"Dead men don't sleep," Moody snarled, "You left a weapon out for an enemy to grab and use on all of us. You were not aware of your surroundings. You let a stranger break and enter your bedroom without anything to stop him. Without any preparation. You do not deserve to live, yet alone sleep."
"Get out of my room," Sirius ordered.
"You have one minute to be downstairs," Moody growled back, "And I want my toast with jam today."
Moody then stalked out of the room to the doorway.
"At least give me my knife back!" Sirius barked at his back.
Moody's eye turned to look at him, "You have no use for it. You're laying in your bed, your throat slit. You're dead, Mr. Black. Your funeral is in two days. Now, get downstairs and start cooking."
And with that, Moody slammed the door. Some plaster fell off of the ceiling, and hit the floor with a crash. Sirius looked at the clock on the wall, and groaned.
Four oh two in the morning.
"I have got to get a lock for that door," Sirius muttered as he stumbled out of bed.
Lily was the only one that could be found awake. The other three had been left alone to sleep, and Moody was no where in sight. Probably still in his bed, sleeping peacefully. And Sirius didn't have the nerve to go barging into his room. Who knew what hexxes could be found on that door.
Lily had put her hair up in a bun, and was sipping a cup of tea as Sirius stumbled into the kitchen. She was sitting at the ktichen counter, and she smiled when she saw him open the cupboard to get the loaf of bread.
"Breakfast duty again, huh?" she said, and Sirius sighed.
"Yeah," he said, "What a surprise. You know," he said, taking out two slices of bread, "I get called down to his office, just like everyone else. I get the same offer, and yet I'm the one getting most of the heat from that old bat."
"I think he's trying to teach you discipline," Lily said quietly, taking another sip of her tea.
"Discipline? Me?" Sirius chortled, "I don't need any discipline lessons. I've got enough discipline to keep myself alive."
"Exactly," Lily said.
Sirius sighed again, and ran his fingers through his hair, "I don't know how much more I can take of this," he eyed Lily, "What are you doing here?"
"I left my door open," she said, "He said that I, over anyone, should have my door shut and bolted, with a painful hex put on the knob. He told me to keep you company."
"Well, I guess little Remus was smart enough to keep his door shut then," Sirius said, unscrewing the jam lid.
"Guess again."
Remus walked into the kitchen, looking worse off than the other two. He took a seat next to Lily, and lay his head down on the counter. His hair was one knot as he shut his eyes, "I slept with my back to the entrance of the room."
Sirius laughed, "And I thought it was just me."
"Oh, it is," Remus yawned, half asleep, "But he wants you to have company in your misery."
Sirius joined them at the counter, and tussled Remus's hair, "If I can't sleep, you can't sleep," he grumbled.
Remus lifted his head, and rubbed his eyes.
"Can I ask you a question, Sirius?" Lily asked, rubbing her thumb against the outside of the cup.
"Go ahead," Sirius said, "Don't expect a good answer, though. I'm mentally still in bed."
"Who was Sprite?"
Sirius looked at her, and then to Remus. Remus looked away.
"You take this one, Padfoot," he said quietly, his mouth forming a firm line.
Sirius sighed yet again, and rested his head on his hand, "She was the Potter's house elf. She was killed with James's parents."
"So why did they put her on the wall?" Lily asked, "I mean, aren't house elves just like slaves? I mean, they really aren't part of the family, are they?"
"Usually," Sirius said, remembering Kreacher and the collection of elf heads residing on his old house's wall, "But Sprite had been freed. She kept on to help them. More of a nanny than a servant, really. Never really understood it, but then again, I never really understood anything about that family."
"Why?" Lily asked, looking at him. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the darkness.
"They were just . . . not your typical family," Sirius said, "Different from mine, anyway."
"They were close," Remus elaborated for Lily's understanding, "They were James's life."
Lily nodded, and then fidgetted with her tea bag, "I can't believe that he lost all of them."
"Yeah," Sirius said, "He's been through more than any of us," he thought for a moment. Should he say it? Did he dare? Was it worth bringing up?
"Why do you think they spared him?" he said bravely.
Remus and Lily looked straight at him, "What?" Remus asked.
"Well, they killed all of the Potters, right?" Sirius explained, "Why didn't they kill James?"
"I don't know," Lily said, "Do you think they're still out to find him?"
Remus shrugged, "Who knows. He's alive today, and that's all that matters, right?"
Sirius looked at his friend like he had just sprouted fur, and Remus sighed, "Sirius, don't."
"I think that you should be a little bit more optimistic, that's all," he retorted.
"How can you be optimistic at a time like this?" Remus said, the tone in his voice not changing, "You saw those names as well as I did. There was an entire room full of them. What makes you think that we all are going to make it through this?"
Sirius turned away from him.
"You still have this perfect picture in your mind that we're going to grow old together and have a regular life," he said. He wasn't patronizing Sirius. He wasn't arguing with him. He was just stating a fact, "Some of us may not make it, Padfoot. And we have to enjoy the time that we do have before anything happens."
"We'll all make it," Sirius said sternly, and then reached for the cupboard for a box of porridge mix, "We will."
"I hope so," Lily whispered quietly, staring meekly at her tea cup again. Remus put an arm around her.
"But let's not think about that right now," he said as Lily took his hand and squeezed it, "Right now, let's just survive this training."
Lily nodded, and Remus removed his arm. Sirius had ripped open a package of the mix, and was now pointing his wand at it. In a matter of seconds, there was a bowl of steaming porridge. He set it on the table, and began to eat.
The three of them didn't say another word to each other.
The living room had been cleared, except for five chairs and a blackboard pulled up opposite of it. As the sun began to stream into the windows, the five recruits and the worn Auror made their way into the room.
"Take your seats," Moody growled as he walked to the chalkboard. James and Peter had had a good night's rest, and they looked lively and awake again. They had gotten to sleep until seven o' clock, since Peter had locked his door, and James had slept facing the door and heard Moody enter.
They had been rewarded with three extra hours of sleep. Something Sirius would give any one of his limbs for right now.
The three dazed early birds stared at the chairs, and Sirius felt himself laughing.
"We're graduated," he said, "This is rubbish. I'm leaving. Wake me up with Professor Moody's done with his lesson."
He turned around, and headed for the spiral staircase. Moody gave a groan, and turned to face the leaving pupil.
"I didn't want to do this, Mr. Black," he said, and he took out one of his wands, and pointed it at him, "Imperio."
The four watched in horror as Sirius grew stiff at the doorway, as a jolt seemed to hit his body. His eyes went wide, and glazed over. His mouth dropped, and his brow raised. As if he was watching something else . . .
"Stop it," James whispered, his heart racing.
Sirius's eyes grew wider.
"Stop it!" James shouted, turning to look at Moody. Moody didn't pay any attention to him, though. He was concentrating hard on the back of Sirius.
Sirius slowly turned around, his eyes losing the glaze, and his stance returning back to normal.
"Don't you do that again, you old crackpot!" Sirius snarled at Moody. Moody smiled.
James stared at him, and then back at Moody.
"Stop it, whatever you're doing to him, stop it," James said, raising his wand at the Auror.
"I'm fine, James," Sirius said, rubbing the back. It was exactly his tone of voice. It was exactly the way that he would have said it, "Prongs, what's wrong with you?"
Moody was still concentrating on Sirius, holding his wand directly at him.
"Listen to your friend, Mr. Potter," Moody said, darting his large eye to James.
"Yeah, listen to me. God, look at you. Calm down. He's not going to kill us," Sirius said, coming closer. It was his walk. It was his expressions. It was Sirius.
James relaxed a bit as Sirius walked to him . . .
And punched him in the face.
James fell to the ground, as Sirius pinned him to the ground, holding his wand out to point at his face.
"Don't trust anyone," Sirius said, his eyes narrowing. It wasn't him. It wasn't his tone, "You never trust anyone, and always suspect everyone. You were easily fooled, because I used the disguise of your best friend to elude you. And yet, here you are, with Sirius Black, loyal brother, ontop of you, ready to dispose of you. Vigilance, Mr. Potter. Vigilance."
And then Moody lowered his wand, and Sirius blinked. He stared at James in horror, and jumped to his feet staring at his wand. His eyes were wider than before, and he shot a glare to Moody.
"You ever do that again . . ." he warned.
"One of the Unforgivable Curses," Moody said, ushering for his students to take their seats, "Imperius Curse. Under it, you have no free will. You are the slave . . . no . . . the puppet of the person who holds you under the spell. It takes a very strong mind to block itself from this spell. There are many people, as we speak, that Voldemort has under this exact curse, and uses them like toys to kill innocent lives. Not all Death Eaters are one by their own wish. There have been at least three Aurors that were not strong enough to block the spell. And now they're servants to that madman. You must prepare yourselves for such an attack. None of you . . . including you, Mr. Black . . . are ready for the battlefield yet. You do not know everything there is to know about the world, contrary to what you may believe," he pointed at James, "You. Potter. Come here."
James stood, and walked to him in front of the chalkboard. Moody paced in front of him, addressing the other students.
"Now," he said, "I believe that James has the strongest mind for reasons that none of you would possibly understand. Therefore, he will be our . . . let's say . . . guinea pig? On the count of three, I will put the same spell I did on Mr. Black on you, Potter. And I want you to fight it. I want you to find the strength inside of yourself, and get me out of your mind. Whatever it takes, I want you to struggle. Are you understanding me?"
James nodded, determined.
"Imperio," Moody said, whipping his wand to face him.
And then a sensation came over James. A dazed feeling. The room was spinning. Everything was . . . good with the world. What father and mother dead in their room? What memorial? What Order?
Speak.
Why?
Speak. Say "I am a git."
Okay, sure.
"I am a git," James shouted, and then he felt the world come back into focus. He gasped for air as reality hit him like cold water, and he turned to Moody.
"You said you were going to count to three!" he accused him.
Moody shrugged, "Do you think that a Death Eater is going to count to three? Give you ample warning? I don't think so, Potter. Now let's try this again . . . Imperio!"
And the wave of happiness hit him again.
Speak.
Why?
Speak. Say "I love Lily Evans."
Why, though?
Say it.
But why? What would be the point?
Say it.
I don't think so.
Say it.
No, I really don't want to.
Say it.
She already knows.
Say it.
NO!
And James felt the trance slip from his mind. He blinked, and looked to a beaming Moody. He was grinning widely, nodding.
"Yes, Potter," he said, "There we go. Good show, James. Good show."
That night, Sirius stirred in his bed, not wanting to sleep. He kept having visions of Moody sneaking into his room, with some sort of weapon, telling him to cook toast and scrub the floors.
He watched the closed door, eyes wide open. Tonight, the night that Moody had taken mercy on him, he couldn't sleep. He was going to die from insomnia, he swore. This would be the end of him. Not a Death Eater, not Voldemort . . . Mad-Eye and his ridiculous sleeping patterns.
Moody hadn't put a lock on Sirius's door. Even if the hole in the wall had been filled that morning, he still had no privacy whatsoever. He had the feeling that his neighbor watched him with that magical eye through the wall, taking notes on everything that he did. Why was that old git so loathing towards him? What did he ever do to deserve this?
There was a knock on the door from downstairs, and Sirius sat up. Someone else other than Moody! They had come to rescue them from his evil clutches! Humanity had returned!
He crossed to the door, and then opened it. No one was awake on their level. He crawled silently down the corridor, edging along the walls. He wasn't going to let that crazy Auror catch him. He wasn't going to get breakfast duty again.
Light was shining in on the floor below, as the door opened. The gruff voice of Moody welcomed their new visitor.
"Ah, Frank," Moody said, taking his coat, "What a surprise. What brings you here?"
"Coming in to check on the progress of our recruits," Frank said.
"Well, come in. Make yourself comfortable," he said, leading him to the living room, "It's your house as well."
Sirius edged down the spiral staircase, his bare feet touching the cold stairs. He hid behind the banister, as he saw the silhouettes of the two Aurors appear on the wall in front of him. They had started a fire, and were now seated opposite each other in the chairs.
"How are they doing?" Frank asked, crossing his legs.
"Fine, very fine," Moody said, "Very arrogant, yes. And a friendship binds the five of them that is one of the strongest that I have ever seen. They won't let me help them much. Think they know everything there is to know. Especially that Black character."
"They're young," Frank said, "Do you think that they'll do?"
"Well, I'm not sure about all of them," Moody took a swig from his hip flask, and wiped his mouth, "That Potter boy is definitely ready. I would trust my life with him this very moment. And Miss Evans is exceptionally strong with Charms and dueling. Very nice addition to the Order, I assure you."
"I'd keep an eye on those two," Frank said, "You know how teenagers can be when they're in love."
Moody snorted, "Don't we all."
"And what about Lupin?"
Moody's shadow shrugged, "Quiet. Reserved. Has his poker face on at all times. Can't really read him. But I believe that he's trustworthy. Just have to be careful about his little problem."
"Yeah," Frank said, "We don't want a repeat of June, do we?"
"No, we don't," Moody said, and sighed, "And Peter Pettigrew. He's definitely loyal. But hardly a wizard. He's almost cannon fodder, it seems."
"Now don't say that," Frank said, "You know that Albus would never . . . "
"I know," Moody waved a hand to quiet him, "I know. I'm just saying that I still don't understand why they picked him. He does have loyalty, yes. But courage is not one of his virtues, sad to say."
"And what about Sirius Black?" Frank asked, drawing forward. Sirius glared. He knew what Moody would say. He knew that Moody would go on and on about how lazy and un-vigilant he was.
Moody didn't disappoint him. There was a pause, as the Auror took another drink from his hip flask, and gave a sigh.
"I'll say one thing about that boy," he said, his voice growing darker, "If I could, I'd drag him off to Azkaban right now."
"Now, come on, Alastor," Frank said, giving a laugh, "That's a little harsh, don't you think?"
"No," Moody said, "It isn't. He is deceitful. He is arrogant, self- centered, and above all, trigger-happy. Three very dangerous things when it comes to battle. You heard him laughing as well as I did. When he was trying to kill us during the test the other night? He has no respect for life, let alone his elders. He won't listen to a word I say."
"Do you think that maybe you've been a little too hard on him from the beginning?" Frank asked, "Minerva told me what you said about him when you read his name on the list. You've had it in for him since the beginning."
"And not without good reason," Moody snarled, "You've heard about Klien's students, I'm guessing?"
"Yes," Frank said, "I have. But we know all of them that he got to. There were quite a few of them."
"Do you remember their names?" Moody asked.
"Well," Frank looked to the ceiling, "There was Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, that boy from Gryffindor . . . what was his name?"
"Darryl Avery," Moody offered.
"Right, Avery," Frank said, "Then Snape and Nott. I believe that's it, isn't it?"
"Pretty much," Moody said, "But there was another student. According to Filch, Mrs. Norris saw another boy walking out of Klien's office late at night on June the seventh, 1972. He keeps records of those things, the obsessive coot," he took another drink, "Well, when we found out what Klien was doing last year, we started to pull the files from his drawers . . . Albus and I went, I believe you were unavailable . . . and found that this boy had not been visiting with Klien when the other six had been called down one by one, the day before school ended of that year. That boy was never identified."
"And you think that it was Black?" Frank asked.
"No," Moody said, "I know that it was Black."
There was a silence. Sirius stared at the silhouettes. How dare they accuse him of something that he hadn't done! How dare they point fingers at him! He didn't know where he had been on June 7, 1972, and he didn't care. All he knew is that he hadn't been anywhere near Klien's office, let alone conversing with him!
Frank coughed.
"And what do you want us to do?" Frank asked, "Pull him out? Give him a Memory Charm? Kill him? We have no proof. And from what I've heard from Albus and Minerva, that boy has gone through hell and back to prove himself. He's been trying his entire life to escape his last name."
"As I told Minerva," Moody said, "I never trusted anyone from that family. And I never will."
Sirius glared, and then began to edge his way back up the stairs, and into the corridor. That . . . old . . . washed up . . .
It hadn't been him! How dare they blame him! How dare they . . .
He was so angry that he couldn't think. He couldn't sleep.
He slammed the door, not caring if Moody heard him or not, and fell on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, not moving the entire night. He knew that if he looked away from that ceiling, he would lose control. He would probably start down the stairs to tell Moody off. And he couldn't do that.
He'd show him.
He'd show all of them.
(Blooper alerts: Here are the latest bloopers. I can't believe I did this! After I write the entire story out, I'll go back and correct these. Thank you, readers, for pointing them out. Moody drank from James's tea cup. He never drinks from anything but his hip flask. Also, the Quidditch game couldn't have happened the way it did, because Harry caught it in a matter of minutes, and he broke a record. Thank you for telling me about these.)
(About the Order's secrecy: I imagine the first Order as sort of a current events myth. Like Robin Hood and his Merry Men, or any other rag tag team of heroes in older literature. Everyone knew that they existed, but there was no proof, and not everyone knew who was involved with them. I believe this because it says that they didn't have anything on the Death Eaters, and that not only them, but their families were getting killed. This means that the members were not only killed in battle, but they were also just plain out murdered by Voldemort and his group. This means that the Death Eaters must have known who they were, if it meant that the Daily Prophet got a hold of a name, or someone infiltrated the Ministry or Order, or got a hold of a list. But they knew who the members were. And therefore, while it was supposed to be a secret agency, it didn't exactly turn out that way. I don't know. This is how I envision it. As I said, views of what happened for these three years will differ from reader to reader, and I'm just writing it the way that I see it happening.)
That night, they were told to go to sleep at midnight. Everyone in the Order had left during their trip to the Ministry of Magic, and now the house was empty except for Lily, James, Remus, Sirius, Peter, and, of course, Mad-Eye Moody.
This didn't exactly intrigue Sirius.
This meant that the sleep-depraved recruits were to keep awake until midnight. Moody had set them in the living room, around the fireplace, and warned them that if he caught them asleep before 12:00, he'd hex them into an insomnia spell and force them awake. This was enough motivation to keep the zombie-like Sirius to keep conscience.
He sat on the couch, mumbling to himself, and rubbing his bloodshot eyes. Six hours of sleep for three days. It wasn't healthy. Six hours of sleep.
God, all he wanted was his bed. All he wanted was for the torture to end.
A twenty some hour day hadn't done any of them any good. They were all nodding off as they watched the clock that would admit them their release. Moody sat in the chair, wide awake, and reading the paper.
"We run a tight schedule here," he said, "You must be always vigilant. Break your sleeping patterns so that at any given time, you are alert and aware of your surroundings."
Sirius grumbled something about abuse, and then started to stare into the fire. His vision was blurry. He needed his pillow. He needed to sleep.
And finally, the clock's bell tolled, and the five of them dragged themselves from the living room, and upstairs. Sirius felt as if he was floating as he crossed to his door, and opened it.
"Good night," James yawned, opening his own door. Lily sleepily kissed James sweet dreams, and then trudged over to her own door.
"Yeah," Sirius mumbled feverishly as he walked the length of his room (it seemed longer than before), "Yeah, night."
He felt himself drop into his broken bed, and his head touch his pillow.
And then he slept.
"Don't make a move."
Sirius's eyes shot open, and he saw a knife pointed at his throat. He froze. It was the knife that Remus had given him for Christmas.
The attacker's face was in the shadows, and he couldn't tell who it was. It was still night. The attacker made a slashing movement with his weapon, missing Sirius by inches.
"You're dead," the attacker snarled, and the pocketed the knife.
And then the attacker's face was hit by the streetlight outside.
"You crazy git!" Sirius barked, throwing Moody off of his bed, "Waking me up in the middle of the night! Holding a knife to my throat!"
Moody's eye swiveled to look at him, "Good morning, Mr. Black."
"What?" Sirius said, desbelievingly, "Do you know the difference between night and day? Night is when it's dark! That's when we sleep! Day is when the big giant orange orb in the sky is up. That's when we wake up!"
"Dead men don't sleep," Moody snarled, "You left a weapon out for an enemy to grab and use on all of us. You were not aware of your surroundings. You let a stranger break and enter your bedroom without anything to stop him. Without any preparation. You do not deserve to live, yet alone sleep."
"Get out of my room," Sirius ordered.
"You have one minute to be downstairs," Moody growled back, "And I want my toast with jam today."
Moody then stalked out of the room to the doorway.
"At least give me my knife back!" Sirius barked at his back.
Moody's eye turned to look at him, "You have no use for it. You're laying in your bed, your throat slit. You're dead, Mr. Black. Your funeral is in two days. Now, get downstairs and start cooking."
And with that, Moody slammed the door. Some plaster fell off of the ceiling, and hit the floor with a crash. Sirius looked at the clock on the wall, and groaned.
Four oh two in the morning.
"I have got to get a lock for that door," Sirius muttered as he stumbled out of bed.
Lily was the only one that could be found awake. The other three had been left alone to sleep, and Moody was no where in sight. Probably still in his bed, sleeping peacefully. And Sirius didn't have the nerve to go barging into his room. Who knew what hexxes could be found on that door.
Lily had put her hair up in a bun, and was sipping a cup of tea as Sirius stumbled into the kitchen. She was sitting at the ktichen counter, and she smiled when she saw him open the cupboard to get the loaf of bread.
"Breakfast duty again, huh?" she said, and Sirius sighed.
"Yeah," he said, "What a surprise. You know," he said, taking out two slices of bread, "I get called down to his office, just like everyone else. I get the same offer, and yet I'm the one getting most of the heat from that old bat."
"I think he's trying to teach you discipline," Lily said quietly, taking another sip of her tea.
"Discipline? Me?" Sirius chortled, "I don't need any discipline lessons. I've got enough discipline to keep myself alive."
"Exactly," Lily said.
Sirius sighed again, and ran his fingers through his hair, "I don't know how much more I can take of this," he eyed Lily, "What are you doing here?"
"I left my door open," she said, "He said that I, over anyone, should have my door shut and bolted, with a painful hex put on the knob. He told me to keep you company."
"Well, I guess little Remus was smart enough to keep his door shut then," Sirius said, unscrewing the jam lid.
"Guess again."
Remus walked into the kitchen, looking worse off than the other two. He took a seat next to Lily, and lay his head down on the counter. His hair was one knot as he shut his eyes, "I slept with my back to the entrance of the room."
Sirius laughed, "And I thought it was just me."
"Oh, it is," Remus yawned, half asleep, "But he wants you to have company in your misery."
Sirius joined them at the counter, and tussled Remus's hair, "If I can't sleep, you can't sleep," he grumbled.
Remus lifted his head, and rubbed his eyes.
"Can I ask you a question, Sirius?" Lily asked, rubbing her thumb against the outside of the cup.
"Go ahead," Sirius said, "Don't expect a good answer, though. I'm mentally still in bed."
"Who was Sprite?"
Sirius looked at her, and then to Remus. Remus looked away.
"You take this one, Padfoot," he said quietly, his mouth forming a firm line.
Sirius sighed yet again, and rested his head on his hand, "She was the Potter's house elf. She was killed with James's parents."
"So why did they put her on the wall?" Lily asked, "I mean, aren't house elves just like slaves? I mean, they really aren't part of the family, are they?"
"Usually," Sirius said, remembering Kreacher and the collection of elf heads residing on his old house's wall, "But Sprite had been freed. She kept on to help them. More of a nanny than a servant, really. Never really understood it, but then again, I never really understood anything about that family."
"Why?" Lily asked, looking at him. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the darkness.
"They were just . . . not your typical family," Sirius said, "Different from mine, anyway."
"They were close," Remus elaborated for Lily's understanding, "They were James's life."
Lily nodded, and then fidgetted with her tea bag, "I can't believe that he lost all of them."
"Yeah," Sirius said, "He's been through more than any of us," he thought for a moment. Should he say it? Did he dare? Was it worth bringing up?
"Why do you think they spared him?" he said bravely.
Remus and Lily looked straight at him, "What?" Remus asked.
"Well, they killed all of the Potters, right?" Sirius explained, "Why didn't they kill James?"
"I don't know," Lily said, "Do you think they're still out to find him?"
Remus shrugged, "Who knows. He's alive today, and that's all that matters, right?"
Sirius looked at his friend like he had just sprouted fur, and Remus sighed, "Sirius, don't."
"I think that you should be a little bit more optimistic, that's all," he retorted.
"How can you be optimistic at a time like this?" Remus said, the tone in his voice not changing, "You saw those names as well as I did. There was an entire room full of them. What makes you think that we all are going to make it through this?"
Sirius turned away from him.
"You still have this perfect picture in your mind that we're going to grow old together and have a regular life," he said. He wasn't patronizing Sirius. He wasn't arguing with him. He was just stating a fact, "Some of us may not make it, Padfoot. And we have to enjoy the time that we do have before anything happens."
"We'll all make it," Sirius said sternly, and then reached for the cupboard for a box of porridge mix, "We will."
"I hope so," Lily whispered quietly, staring meekly at her tea cup again. Remus put an arm around her.
"But let's not think about that right now," he said as Lily took his hand and squeezed it, "Right now, let's just survive this training."
Lily nodded, and Remus removed his arm. Sirius had ripped open a package of the mix, and was now pointing his wand at it. In a matter of seconds, there was a bowl of steaming porridge. He set it on the table, and began to eat.
The three of them didn't say another word to each other.
The living room had been cleared, except for five chairs and a blackboard pulled up opposite of it. As the sun began to stream into the windows, the five recruits and the worn Auror made their way into the room.
"Take your seats," Moody growled as he walked to the chalkboard. James and Peter had had a good night's rest, and they looked lively and awake again. They had gotten to sleep until seven o' clock, since Peter had locked his door, and James had slept facing the door and heard Moody enter.
They had been rewarded with three extra hours of sleep. Something Sirius would give any one of his limbs for right now.
The three dazed early birds stared at the chairs, and Sirius felt himself laughing.
"We're graduated," he said, "This is rubbish. I'm leaving. Wake me up with Professor Moody's done with his lesson."
He turned around, and headed for the spiral staircase. Moody gave a groan, and turned to face the leaving pupil.
"I didn't want to do this, Mr. Black," he said, and he took out one of his wands, and pointed it at him, "Imperio."
The four watched in horror as Sirius grew stiff at the doorway, as a jolt seemed to hit his body. His eyes went wide, and glazed over. His mouth dropped, and his brow raised. As if he was watching something else . . .
"Stop it," James whispered, his heart racing.
Sirius's eyes grew wider.
"Stop it!" James shouted, turning to look at Moody. Moody didn't pay any attention to him, though. He was concentrating hard on the back of Sirius.
Sirius slowly turned around, his eyes losing the glaze, and his stance returning back to normal.
"Don't you do that again, you old crackpot!" Sirius snarled at Moody. Moody smiled.
James stared at him, and then back at Moody.
"Stop it, whatever you're doing to him, stop it," James said, raising his wand at the Auror.
"I'm fine, James," Sirius said, rubbing the back. It was exactly his tone of voice. It was exactly the way that he would have said it, "Prongs, what's wrong with you?"
Moody was still concentrating on Sirius, holding his wand directly at him.
"Listen to your friend, Mr. Potter," Moody said, darting his large eye to James.
"Yeah, listen to me. God, look at you. Calm down. He's not going to kill us," Sirius said, coming closer. It was his walk. It was his expressions. It was Sirius.
James relaxed a bit as Sirius walked to him . . .
And punched him in the face.
James fell to the ground, as Sirius pinned him to the ground, holding his wand out to point at his face.
"Don't trust anyone," Sirius said, his eyes narrowing. It wasn't him. It wasn't his tone, "You never trust anyone, and always suspect everyone. You were easily fooled, because I used the disguise of your best friend to elude you. And yet, here you are, with Sirius Black, loyal brother, ontop of you, ready to dispose of you. Vigilance, Mr. Potter. Vigilance."
And then Moody lowered his wand, and Sirius blinked. He stared at James in horror, and jumped to his feet staring at his wand. His eyes were wider than before, and he shot a glare to Moody.
"You ever do that again . . ." he warned.
"One of the Unforgivable Curses," Moody said, ushering for his students to take their seats, "Imperius Curse. Under it, you have no free will. You are the slave . . . no . . . the puppet of the person who holds you under the spell. It takes a very strong mind to block itself from this spell. There are many people, as we speak, that Voldemort has under this exact curse, and uses them like toys to kill innocent lives. Not all Death Eaters are one by their own wish. There have been at least three Aurors that were not strong enough to block the spell. And now they're servants to that madman. You must prepare yourselves for such an attack. None of you . . . including you, Mr. Black . . . are ready for the battlefield yet. You do not know everything there is to know about the world, contrary to what you may believe," he pointed at James, "You. Potter. Come here."
James stood, and walked to him in front of the chalkboard. Moody paced in front of him, addressing the other students.
"Now," he said, "I believe that James has the strongest mind for reasons that none of you would possibly understand. Therefore, he will be our . . . let's say . . . guinea pig? On the count of three, I will put the same spell I did on Mr. Black on you, Potter. And I want you to fight it. I want you to find the strength inside of yourself, and get me out of your mind. Whatever it takes, I want you to struggle. Are you understanding me?"
James nodded, determined.
"Imperio," Moody said, whipping his wand to face him.
And then a sensation came over James. A dazed feeling. The room was spinning. Everything was . . . good with the world. What father and mother dead in their room? What memorial? What Order?
Speak.
Why?
Speak. Say "I am a git."
Okay, sure.
"I am a git," James shouted, and then he felt the world come back into focus. He gasped for air as reality hit him like cold water, and he turned to Moody.
"You said you were going to count to three!" he accused him.
Moody shrugged, "Do you think that a Death Eater is going to count to three? Give you ample warning? I don't think so, Potter. Now let's try this again . . . Imperio!"
And the wave of happiness hit him again.
Speak.
Why?
Speak. Say "I love Lily Evans."
Why, though?
Say it.
But why? What would be the point?
Say it.
I don't think so.
Say it.
No, I really don't want to.
Say it.
She already knows.
Say it.
NO!
And James felt the trance slip from his mind. He blinked, and looked to a beaming Moody. He was grinning widely, nodding.
"Yes, Potter," he said, "There we go. Good show, James. Good show."
That night, Sirius stirred in his bed, not wanting to sleep. He kept having visions of Moody sneaking into his room, with some sort of weapon, telling him to cook toast and scrub the floors.
He watched the closed door, eyes wide open. Tonight, the night that Moody had taken mercy on him, he couldn't sleep. He was going to die from insomnia, he swore. This would be the end of him. Not a Death Eater, not Voldemort . . . Mad-Eye and his ridiculous sleeping patterns.
Moody hadn't put a lock on Sirius's door. Even if the hole in the wall had been filled that morning, he still had no privacy whatsoever. He had the feeling that his neighbor watched him with that magical eye through the wall, taking notes on everything that he did. Why was that old git so loathing towards him? What did he ever do to deserve this?
There was a knock on the door from downstairs, and Sirius sat up. Someone else other than Moody! They had come to rescue them from his evil clutches! Humanity had returned!
He crossed to the door, and then opened it. No one was awake on their level. He crawled silently down the corridor, edging along the walls. He wasn't going to let that crazy Auror catch him. He wasn't going to get breakfast duty again.
Light was shining in on the floor below, as the door opened. The gruff voice of Moody welcomed their new visitor.
"Ah, Frank," Moody said, taking his coat, "What a surprise. What brings you here?"
"Coming in to check on the progress of our recruits," Frank said.
"Well, come in. Make yourself comfortable," he said, leading him to the living room, "It's your house as well."
Sirius edged down the spiral staircase, his bare feet touching the cold stairs. He hid behind the banister, as he saw the silhouettes of the two Aurors appear on the wall in front of him. They had started a fire, and were now seated opposite each other in the chairs.
"How are they doing?" Frank asked, crossing his legs.
"Fine, very fine," Moody said, "Very arrogant, yes. And a friendship binds the five of them that is one of the strongest that I have ever seen. They won't let me help them much. Think they know everything there is to know. Especially that Black character."
"They're young," Frank said, "Do you think that they'll do?"
"Well, I'm not sure about all of them," Moody took a swig from his hip flask, and wiped his mouth, "That Potter boy is definitely ready. I would trust my life with him this very moment. And Miss Evans is exceptionally strong with Charms and dueling. Very nice addition to the Order, I assure you."
"I'd keep an eye on those two," Frank said, "You know how teenagers can be when they're in love."
Moody snorted, "Don't we all."
"And what about Lupin?"
Moody's shadow shrugged, "Quiet. Reserved. Has his poker face on at all times. Can't really read him. But I believe that he's trustworthy. Just have to be careful about his little problem."
"Yeah," Frank said, "We don't want a repeat of June, do we?"
"No, we don't," Moody said, and sighed, "And Peter Pettigrew. He's definitely loyal. But hardly a wizard. He's almost cannon fodder, it seems."
"Now don't say that," Frank said, "You know that Albus would never . . . "
"I know," Moody waved a hand to quiet him, "I know. I'm just saying that I still don't understand why they picked him. He does have loyalty, yes. But courage is not one of his virtues, sad to say."
"And what about Sirius Black?" Frank asked, drawing forward. Sirius glared. He knew what Moody would say. He knew that Moody would go on and on about how lazy and un-vigilant he was.
Moody didn't disappoint him. There was a pause, as the Auror took another drink from his hip flask, and gave a sigh.
"I'll say one thing about that boy," he said, his voice growing darker, "If I could, I'd drag him off to Azkaban right now."
"Now, come on, Alastor," Frank said, giving a laugh, "That's a little harsh, don't you think?"
"No," Moody said, "It isn't. He is deceitful. He is arrogant, self- centered, and above all, trigger-happy. Three very dangerous things when it comes to battle. You heard him laughing as well as I did. When he was trying to kill us during the test the other night? He has no respect for life, let alone his elders. He won't listen to a word I say."
"Do you think that maybe you've been a little too hard on him from the beginning?" Frank asked, "Minerva told me what you said about him when you read his name on the list. You've had it in for him since the beginning."
"And not without good reason," Moody snarled, "You've heard about Klien's students, I'm guessing?"
"Yes," Frank said, "I have. But we know all of them that he got to. There were quite a few of them."
"Do you remember their names?" Moody asked.
"Well," Frank looked to the ceiling, "There was Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, that boy from Gryffindor . . . what was his name?"
"Darryl Avery," Moody offered.
"Right, Avery," Frank said, "Then Snape and Nott. I believe that's it, isn't it?"
"Pretty much," Moody said, "But there was another student. According to Filch, Mrs. Norris saw another boy walking out of Klien's office late at night on June the seventh, 1972. He keeps records of those things, the obsessive coot," he took another drink, "Well, when we found out what Klien was doing last year, we started to pull the files from his drawers . . . Albus and I went, I believe you were unavailable . . . and found that this boy had not been visiting with Klien when the other six had been called down one by one, the day before school ended of that year. That boy was never identified."
"And you think that it was Black?" Frank asked.
"No," Moody said, "I know that it was Black."
There was a silence. Sirius stared at the silhouettes. How dare they accuse him of something that he hadn't done! How dare they point fingers at him! He didn't know where he had been on June 7, 1972, and he didn't care. All he knew is that he hadn't been anywhere near Klien's office, let alone conversing with him!
Frank coughed.
"And what do you want us to do?" Frank asked, "Pull him out? Give him a Memory Charm? Kill him? We have no proof. And from what I've heard from Albus and Minerva, that boy has gone through hell and back to prove himself. He's been trying his entire life to escape his last name."
"As I told Minerva," Moody said, "I never trusted anyone from that family. And I never will."
Sirius glared, and then began to edge his way back up the stairs, and into the corridor. That . . . old . . . washed up . . .
It hadn't been him! How dare they blame him! How dare they . . .
He was so angry that he couldn't think. He couldn't sleep.
He slammed the door, not caring if Moody heard him or not, and fell on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, not moving the entire night. He knew that if he looked away from that ceiling, he would lose control. He would probably start down the stairs to tell Moody off. And he couldn't do that.
He'd show him.
He'd show all of them.