This one sort of got away from me. That's good, though. I love when that happens.

Fair warning: there's a bit of colorful language in here, if that might bother you.

There are also a number of references to characters from another story of mine, Breaking Assumptions, though not so many as anyone should be confused.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When James was called into the Ministry a little over two weeks into November, he assumed it was to do with the trial preparations for the Lestranges and their accomplices. He should have realized that had this been the case, they would have wanted to talk to Lily as well. He'd forgotten all about the inquiry into Bartemius Crouch.

'I just need to you to give me an official statement regarding your account of the events, Mr Potter,' said the Ministry official whose name James had already forgotten. He didn't even know what department the man was from. He supposed he ought to be paying more attention – this was important, after all – it just didn't seem like the best use of his time given everything that was going on.

'I've told about three different people already,' James said, mildly irritated. 'Including Galahad Fawley, who's supposed to be acting department head right now, I thought.'

'Yes, that's true,' said the nameless wizard bureaucrat. 'I do apologize for the inconvenience, but evidence will not be admissible toward the inquiry unless obtained in an official manner.'

'That's completely mental,' James complained. 'Fine, I'll go over it again, but only because I really think Crouch should be sacked and I want to make sure I'm doing my part.'

'Your opinion will be noted,' said the wizard. 'Please commence with your statement.'

James rambled on to the wizard about showing up and finding Sirius being held in custody, the way Crouch had accused them both of conspiracy and murder on no grounds whatsoever, how he'd been practically frothing at the mouth at the very idea of not sending the both of them immediately to Azkaban without trial, and the way he'd reacted when Fawley relieved him of duty. If his testimony alone wasn't enough to get the man sacked, the system was broken. He could only imagine what Sirius had told them.

'Mr Black has not been interviewed yet for this inquiry,' his interviewer told him.

'You're joking.'

'I never joke regarding official ministry business,' the man said. 'Mr Black's testimony is crucial, it is true, but is also the most likely to be personally biased. Therefore it is important to have as complete a picture as possible before speaking to him.'

'Isn't my testimony likely to be biased as well?' James asked in spite of himself.

'Certainly,' said the official. 'It is why we waited as long as we did before speaking to you, as well. Rest assured this does not mean we intend to dismiss everything – or indeed anything – you say; on the contrary, it is a means to get the most objective information we can withing being prejudiced ourselves by the knowledge that you are biased.'

'I...guess that makes sense?' said James, though it really all sounded like hogwash to him. 'Can I expect the same sort of thing when they ask to talk to me about the Lestranges?'

'I am afraid I cannot say,' the man said. 'Rather, I am permitted to say; it is simply that I do not know the answer to your question. That is a criminal investigation, which I am given to understand is handled quite differently, and it is outside my department.'

'Oh,' said James. He was beginning to think this fellow was exactly as earnest as he appeared. How strange. 'Well, thanks anyway. Was that everything you needed from me?'

'Yes, I do believe so,' said the man. 'If we require anything further, we shall contact you. Likewise, should you recall anything pertinent that you neglected to mention, please send it to our office in writing, signed and magically sealed.'

'Your office,' James repeated. 'Sorry, what was that again?'

'The Bureau of Internal Ministry Matters, care of the Wizengamot Administrative Services Office,' said the official. 'Owls addressed to Stanley Ogden, Jr. will find me personally, but you need only to send them to the office in general. Did you have any other questions, Mr Potter?'

'No, I think that about covers it,' said James. He fought the temptation to immediately address the man by name; that would be too obvious.

'Very good,' said Ogden. 'I thank you for your time. You are free to go.'

James stood and refastened his cloak, bidding Ogden good day (he reasoned it was safe to use his name this time) and exiting the interview room. On his way back to the lifts he passed by the auror office. He was thinking maybe he'd take a minute to see if Kingsley was in, but then thought it probably wouldn't be professional of him to be gabbing with old school chums while he was supposed to be working.

He'd just made the decision to leave when he heard a gruff voice calling his name.

'Potter!'

He turned and saw Alastor Moody hobbling his way toward him.

'Yes?' he asked politely.

'I wanted to talk to you,' the auror said, catching up to him.

'I rather suspected,' said James. 'What can I do for you, Moody?'

'The night you faced off against Voldemort,' Moody began, speaking the dark wizard's name very quietly. There were still a lot of people who were not comfortable hearing it. 'You went chasing after Black and Pettigrew right after, yes?'

'Yeah,' he confirmed. 'I was worried something might have happened to one of them. I never suspected the truth, though.'

'We all have our blind spots,' said Moody. 'The fact that yours is loyalty to your friends speaks well of you. In any case, you were still able to track them down, were you not?'

'Eventually, yeah,' said James. 'I was lucky I got there in time to stop Crouch throwing Sirius in prison.'

'Indeed,' agreed Moody. 'But it's the fact you found them at all that interests me. I said this to Black as well. Have you ever considered becoming an auror?'

This caught James by surprise. He had thought of it, of course, in his school days and in the heat of the war, when all he wanted to do was fight and help. Being an auror was a noble ideal, a dream for boys who fancy themselves heroes.

'I'd be lying if I said I hadn't,' he admitted. 'But now, with the war over and all, I just don't know if it's something I want anymore. I mean, it's a dangerous job, and I've got a wife and a son. Before, we had no choice but to fight for our lives, but now...' he trailed off. What he didn't add – he didn't really think Moody needed to know – was that his other dream had always been to play quidditch. With the prospect of no more fighting dark wizards so tantalizingly close, it was a dream he thought he might actually have a chance of achieving.

'That's understandable,' said Moody. 'And certainly no one can say you haven't done your part for the cause. Just something to think about. There may be peaks and valleys, but the fight against dark magic never really ends. We could always use more wands, and yours has been tried and proven if anyone's ever has.'

James felt oddly proud to be receiving such praise from this legendary auror. It wouldn't be right to just turn it down out of course.

'I promise I'll at least consider it,' said James. 'But surely with the war over, you won't be as hard up as before?'

'On the contrary,' said Moody. 'The Order of the Phoenix was picking up a lot of slack – unofficially, of course – that's now going to be entirely the onus of the ministry again. And there are going to be a lot of Death Eaters going to ground that'll need to be rooted out. It's going to be a hard couple of years.'

'I hadn't realized the Order was doing so much,' said James.

'Without it we'd have lost; there's no question about that. Never underrate the importance of everything we did, Potter.'

'I won't,' said James, feeling that sense of pride once again. To know that he really had helped, really had made a difference – it was truly invigorating.

'Go on home to your family, then,' said Moody. 'You'll be back here soon enough to testify about the Lestranges, I expect. I believe they're aiming to have the trial up and running by the end of the month. Nobody wants to be doing that sort of thing over Christmas, and to postpone it to next year would be waiting too long.'

'Cheers, Moody,' said James. 'Putting those four away would definitely qualify as an early Christmas present. I'll hopefully have an answer for you by then, too.'

'No rush,' said Moody. 'Do what's best for your family, Potter. You've earned whatever sort of life you want.'

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

'You're not going to believe this!' exclaimed Sirius several days later, bursting into the kitchen while James and Lily were eating breakfast and slamming a copy of the Daily Prophet down on the table in front of them. He'd been staying with them at Ivy Hall in his old room rather than returning to his own flat, claiming he learned his lesson from the last time he left them on their own.

'Come in, Sirius,' said Lily dryly. 'Good morning to you, too.'

'Crouch has been sacked!' he said jubilantly, ignoring Lily's sass. This got her and James's attention. 'Not disciplined, not censured, not put on unpaid leave, not shunted to another department, sacked. Do you realize what this means?'

'Someone at the ministry is actually taking their job seriously and doing the right thing?' Lily posited, while James eagerly snatched up the newspaper and began to scan through it.

'Well, aside from that,' said Sirius, waving his hand impatiently. 'In fact, you might be giving them too much credit, considering how it just came out that Crouch's son was one of the four you two fought at Frank and Alice's.'

'I thought they were trying to keep that quiet,' said James, not looking up from the paper.

'The operative word there being "trying," Prongs,' said Sirius. 'Somebody found out and spilled the beans.'

'I hope that didn't prejudice the ministry's decision,' said Lily.

'Who cares?' Sirius said, barking his great laugh. 'Even better if it did, if you ask me. The irony! Mr Law and Order brought down by his own son being a Death Eater, which he didn't even realize because he never spent any time with him. Didn't know a thing abut his own son! It's almost poetic. Brings a tear to my eye.' He mimed wiping away a tear, but the effect was spoiled somewhat by the almost manic grin adorning his face.

'It says he's barred form holding any office in the ministry for fifteen years,' said James, looking up from the article. 'That's harsh.'

'No less than he deserves,' said Sirius. 'Bloke was a raving loon. You saw him. He was practically frothing at the mouth about sending us both to rot in prison forever.'

'He was respectable once,' said James, folding the paper and putting it back down. 'I remember my parents talking about him; he was considered one of the few in the ministry who was actually doing something about Voldemort.'

'Well whatever he once was, he's completely lost it,' said Sirius. 'What is it they say about those who fight monsters?'

'It makes you wonder if his son would have turned out a Death Eater regardless, or if Crouch drove it to him in some way,' said James.

'I don't really care, to be honest,' said Sirius, 'but if I had to guess based on what I remember about him from school, I'd say he would have wound up with Voldemort whatever his father did. Folks like that, they're just like my family. Think they're better than everyone else and want to go out into the world and prove it. Everyone else are just bugs to them.'

'What is it you were going to say to us, Sirius?' Lily asked in an attempt to get him off his current train of thought. When Sirius got into a dark mood – usually about his family history – it could sometimes take hours or even days to pull him out of it again.

'What's that?' he asked, looking almost surprised by her question.

'You said Crouch had been sacked, and then you said, "Do you know what this means?"' she reminded him. 'What does it mean?'

'Oh, that,' said Sirius, all smiles again. Lily breathed a tiny sigh of relief. 'It means we have to celebrate!'

James laughed. 'A man loses his job and you want to party,' he observed.

'Naturally,' said Sirius. 'We haven't had a good party in a long time.'

'Except the one we had to celebrate Frank and Alice getting out of hospital,' said James.

'And the one we had to celebrate our first night in Ivy Hall,' Lily added, ticking it off on her fingers. 'And Bonfire Night.' She ticked off another.

'There was the one to celebrate your birthday,' James said to Sirius.

'That one barely counts, we were all still depressed about Wormtail,' protested Sirius.

'AND,' Lily cut over him, 'there was that little one everyone was talking about just before then. What was it? Oh, right. The end of the war.'

James laughed, but Sirius crossed his arms and scrunched up his face.

'You two think you're so clever,' he said. 'But what were all of those – even Lily's weird muggle burning man thing – missing?'

Lily and James shared a look. His eyes expressed the same confusion she was feeling. They turned to look at him, the question clear on their faces: 'What are you on about?'

'Other people!' Sirius stressed, as though explaining something to someone particularly dim. 'Every single one of those things you just mentioned were just us, Remus, and sometimes Frank and Alice. That's it! When was the last time we saw the rest of our friends? When was the last time we did anything with anyone outside our core social group that wasn't Order of the Phoenix related? I can't believe you two aren't going mad! We need human contact! People weren't meant to be cooped up, hidden away from the rest of the world like this for so long.'

Lily and James looked at each other again, and again she knew they were both thinking the same thing: Sirius had a point.

'So Crouch getting sacked is the perfect excuse to get everybody back together again, you're saying?' James asked.

'I'm saying we need to do it, full stop. This is as good a reason as any. It's a pretense, Prongs. We just need to get back out there. The last time we all went to any kind of major social gathering was that New Year's Eve party almost two years ago, and Lily was pregnant and couldn't even drink! If we can't get together with everyone now that the war's finally over, when can we? I expect we missed out on all the really good shindigs the morning after for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean we can't still do something fun. Don't you miss everyone? Don't you wonder what everyone's doing?'

'It has been ages since I've spoken to Audrey,' said Lily, thinking of her best friend from back in school. 'We've barely even been able to write since going into hiding.'

'Was it seeing Kingsley the other day that got you thinking about this, Padfoot?' asked James.

'Probably,' said Sirius, acknowledging it. 'It really was great to see him, even for just a minute. So many of our friends who joined the Order didn't make it, and even a few who didn't join didn't make it either; don't you think now it's over we should reconnect with as many people as we can? Otherwise what was it all for?'

'Sirius is talking sense,' said James. 'That's how you can tell you've let things go too far.'

'But how are we going to do it?' asked Lily, warming to the idea but still seeing a few major problems with it. 'We can't invite everyone here; that defeats the whole purpose of all the security measures we've put in place. And holding the party somewhere else presents the same problem. And what about Harry? We surely won't be able to take him anywhere with us.'

'I think if we kept the guest list relatively small – people we know we can trust – we should be able to have it here,' said James.

'We thought we could trust Wormtail,' said Sirius darkly.

'Wasn't this your idea to begin with?' James fired back at him. 'You were right; we can't stay cooped up here forever. It's not natural. And I refuse to live the rest of my life hiding in my house and mistrusting everybody I know. That's no kind of life, and it's not what I want for Harry growing up.'

Lily smiled then, a warm fondness for her husband filling her, beginning in her chest and radiating outward.

'Let's start working on a guest list,' she said. The matter had been settled. 'We can work out how were going to get them here safely after that's done.'

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Cornelius Fudge was moving up in the world. It was a shame, truly, that it came as a result of such a horrific event as the one he had witnessed a few weeks ago, but his philosophy was to always try to make the best of any situation, no matter how bad it may first appear.

When he had been interviewed by the Bureau of Internal Ministry Matters, it had been one of the most anxiety inducing hours of his professional career. On the one hand, there was always the chance that Crouch would be cleared of any wrongdoing or even given a perfunctory slap on the wrist, and there was a chance of anything Fudge may have said against him in the interview getting back to the notoriously vindictive department head, which could have derailed Fudges ambitions for years. Perhaps even permanently.

On the other hand, if Crouch were to be disciplined accordingly and it looked in retrospect as though Fudge had been trying to shield him from repercussions, that could be equally damning.

He'd walked a very fine line, trying to stick to the most basic facts and not volunteering any information or opinions at all unless explicitly asked for them. His goal was not only to advance his career as much as possible, but also to mitigate any potential damage to it, regardless of the outcome.

It worked out better than even he could ever have dreamed, looking around his brand new office a mere three weeks later. Cornelius Fudge, Assistant Deputy Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office. Not only was this a massive step up and a very high position for someone of his age and seniority level, but he was now working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, headed up by none other than Galahad Fawley, the man whose job had been secured by the removal of Crouch, and who had been very impressed by him, Fudge, at the disaster in London that fateful morning.

And while this new position came with a transitional period, learning the protocols and etiquette of an entirely new department, it was a catapult upward toward his ultimate ambition: Minister for Magic. After all, it suited a Minister to be familiar with all the departments working underneath him, did it not? Having served in two of the most prestigious of those departments could only aid him in his pursuit of that lofty position.

Yes, things were definitely looking up for Cornelius Oswald Fudge. There was of course the matter of determining what his new position actually required him to do, but in the mean time he was determined to make a good impression and add yet more building stones to the foundation of his planned illustrious career.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Heather Brown sat on the floor of of her brother's house, playing with her niece. She treasured these moments; work made it difficult to maintain a social life and spend time with her family, and little Lavender really was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

'What is this thing you're going to?' her brother asked, coming into the room. His arms were covered it some kind of plant matter that she could not identify.

'It's a party at Lily and James's place,' she said, looking up at him. 'It's supposed to celebrate something or other, but really it's just an excuse for them to see everyone again. It's been so long.' She could not describe how excited she was for this get-together. She had brand new dress robes laid out for it at home and everything. She hadn't seen Lily since the woman's wedding, for Merlin's sake. And, though the chance was slim, there was always the prospect that he might be there. He and James had been mates, after all. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

'You sure that's a good idea?' Royce asked. 'I mean, I know everything's supposed to be over now, but there are definitely still going to be Death Eaters out there, and we know the Potters have been in the thick of the fighting.'

'It'll be fine, you big baby,' Heather said, rolling her eyes. Lavender was attempting to climb into her lap in a bid to regain her attention. She scooped the little girl up and hugged her while continuing to talk to her brother. This was apparently acceptable, for her niece stopped fussing. 'You know they're taking all kinds of precautions. And besides, Lily was one of my best friends and I haven't seen her in ages.' Or him, either, she added in her head. She knew she was probably getting her hopes up too high – after all, even if he was there, that was no guarantee anything would happen – but she couldn't help it.

Royce was about to respond when the floo roared to life and her sister-in-law stepped out, looking fantastic as ever, as though she hadn't spent all morning in a locker room interviewing muddy, sweaty quidditch players.

'Vi!' Royce pounced at once. 'Would you tell Heather she's crazy for going to a massive social gathering full of people who were on You-Know-Who's top hit list?'

'Oh!' said Violet, unwrapping her scarf, and holding out her arms for her daughter, who had wriggled free of Heather's arms and was eagerly toddling toward her mother. 'You're going to James and Lily's thing?' she asked, picking up Lavender and making cooing noises. Heather smiled. Of course Violet would be on her side.

'You knew about this?' Royce said to her.

'Of course,' said Violet. 'We got an invitation too, didn't I tell you?'

'We did?' asked Royce, visibly confused.

'You forget; I played quidditch with James for years before your handsome arse joined the team, and one more besides after you left.' She carried Lavender over to the couch and sat down. The little girl had apparently had enough of being held, however, and struggled free, climbing down and going back to the stuffed unicorn she and Heather had been playing with earlier.

'How come I'm only hearing about it now?' Royce asked.

'Sorry,' said Violet, wincing slightly. 'I didn't keep it from you on purpose, but I didn't think you'd be interested, and I didn't really want to go without you. Besides, we couldn't leave Lavender alone.'

'I don't think Lily and James would mind if you brought her, actually,' said Heather. 'Their own son is going to be there, after all.'

'Maybe,' said Violet. 'But it would still feel awkward. And you know your brother wouldn't be interested.'

'Hang on!' Royce interrupted, indignant. 'Who's to say I wouldn't be interested?'

'Are you?' asked Violet, quirking an eyebrow at him. He deflated almost immediately.

'Well, no, not per se,' he said. 'But it's still nice to be consulted, you know.'

'I'll remember that, dear,' said Violet. 'And I am sorry. But you really shouldn't worry about Heather. These are her friends. And after everything that's happened, if there's a safer place to be than the Potters' house right now, I don't know what it is.'

Royce seemed to struggle with this. At last he said, 'Well, I can't pretend as though I'm entirely comfortable with it, but it's not as if you're not an adult. You can make your own decisions. Just promise me you'll stay on your guard and keep an eye out. James is good people, but there's no telling who else is going to be there, and sad as it may be, we don't have the luxury of trusting everyone we meet. Not anymore.'

'For heaven's sake, Royce, she's going to a party, not infiltrating a Dark stronghold,' said Violet. Heather couldn't help but laugh.

'I'll be careful,' she said. 'I don't plan on talking to anyone I don't know, though I honestly don't expect it to come up. This is supposed to be for old friends. If there are more than a dozen people there I'll be extremely surprised.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

To Lars Atron, the day held no special significance. Nor did any other. He had no idea Voldemort had been defeated. The news of the Potters' remarkable triumph would never reach him here, and even if it did, he wasn't likely to process it. He had no way of knowing that Bartemius Crouch, the man who had sent him here, had been stripped of all his power and authority, nor that as a result, the Wizengamot under Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore was demanding a review of everyone Crouch had ever sentenced.

Most were on the up and up. But it was coming to light that a few, like the case of Sirius Black that had gotten him fired, Crouch had sent away to rot on his own authority, without any investigation or trial whatsoever. The ministry, desperate to do anything that might hold back the onslaught of Lord Voldemort, had let him get away with it. They might even have continued to sweep it all under the rug forever after the fact had not Black's case been so high profile. Now these illegally detained prisoners could no longer be safely ignored. And as luck would have it, whether he was aware of any of this or not, Lars Atron was one of those on the list.

To him, at the moment, this day was the same as any other for the past two years: surrounded by dank walls dripping in unknown moisture, frigid air surrounding him constantly despite no window to the outside, and little more space than he required to stand up, lie down, or take a few steps. Not that any of this mattered at all, since he spent most of his days completely incognizant, tortured by the voices in his own head.

He couldn't even be certain what they were saying anymore. All the horrible thoughts and memories had merged together into one constant, ceaseless reflection of misery. Sometimes he would cry out incoherently, but most of his waking hours were spent tossing and turning on the threadbare sleep mat provided for him, weeping silently. In his more lucid moments, he would call out to anyone who might hear him for help, mercy, company, anything. But these moments were becoming fewer and farther between, each one lingering shorter than the last, and the part of him that fueled them knew that eventually they would cease entirely. He would die here, mad and lost and alone, and he would be thankful for it.

Which is why, when his head cleared on this day, he idly wondered to himself – as he always did – if this would be the last time. It used to terrify him – the idea that he would never know himself again – but now it was nothing more than a mere morbid fascination.

However, after a few moments, he began to realize that it wasn't just his thoughts that were coalescing; the fug of despair that was his constant companion was actually lifting slightly. For whatever reason, he felt more like himself than he had since they'd put him in here.

He sat up. There was a light coming from the corridor outside his door, only it wasn't the normal flickering dim orange of torches. It was brighter; cleaner, somehow. It made him want to stand.

Getting to his feet – with considerable difficulty – he peered through the bars on his door. Coming toward him were two men, one of whom he recognized and the other he did not, flanked by hulking silver beasts. Patronuses. What were they doing here? Had they come to finish him off?

'Are you awake in there, Atron?' called the deep voice of the man he knew, an auror with a matching wild red beard and head of hair like a lion's mane named Rufus Scrimgeour. How he hated that man. Would hate him, anyway, if he were capable of such emotions anymore. He wanted to answer, but when he opened his mouth to speak no sound came out. He pressed his face as far through the bars as he could so that they could see him. He didn't know why they were here, but he didn't want them to go away. To leave him alone in the dark again.

'There he is,' said the other man, whose voice was calmer – not gentler, just calmer – despite his impressively broad frame. His short hair was as neatly coiffed as Scrimgeour's was wild and he sported a thin moustache and goatee, as though the two of them had deliberately tried to appear as opposite each other as possible. To his side strode a bright silver griffin, contrasting Scrimgeour's shining silver lion.

'Can you speak?' Scrimgeour asked gruffly.

Lars shook his head as much as he could between the bars.

'Have something to drink,' said the other man, producing a flask and tipping it into Lars's surprised mouth. He almost choked, but the water was so sweet he would not allow himself to waste a single drop. When the man took the flask away, he coughed and sputtered but managed to breath out, 'Thank you.'

'We're not here to pamper him, Robards,' said Scrimgeour.

'No, but this will be easier if he can talk,' the man called Robards replied, uncowed. Scrimgeour grunted.

'Why are you here?' Lars rasped. Using his voice still felt strange.

'Your case has come up for review,' said Scrimgeour in a tone that displayed perfectly how he felt about that. 'You are to be released temporarily to a ministry facility while your trial is being prepared.'

They may as well have told him he was being made Minister for Magic and he would be living in a castle.

'You're...you're letting me out?' he managed to say. 'I'm getting a trial?'

'Don't misunderstand,' said Scrimgeour. 'You have not been freed. That you did not receive a trial before is being considered an oversight that is now to be corrected. I fully expect you'll be back here by year's end.'

This proposed timeline meant nothing to Lars, because he had know idea what time of year it was, or indeed what year it was at all. That Scrimgeour assumed him guilty was no surprise; he had been the auror to bring him here under Crouch's orders in the first place. Regardless, he himself had very little hope of his trial going well – he had long since forgotten how to hope for anything – but the news that he would be leaving Azkaban even for a little while was a more than a blessing.

'You're to remain in our custody at all times while in transit to the Ministry holding facility,' said Robards in what sounded like a prepared speech. 'Any attempts to escape from your auror escorts or from the facility will result in immediate transfer back to Azkaban and a possible postponement of your trial. At your trial you will be permitted to name witnesses to testify in your defense. Those you name will receive a summons but will not be required to attend or to testify. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' he said. Let me out, were the only words running through his mind. Just get on with it and let me OUT.

'I'll be watching you, Atron,' Scrimgeour added unnecessarily. He raised his wand. 'Stand back; I'm opening the door.'

Lars stepped back on shaky legs. Without the door to support him it was difficult to remain upright, but whatever adrenaline his body was still capable of producing was flowing through his veins, giving him strength he hadn't known in a very long time.

Scrimgeour waved his wand and there were a few rather loud clangs, a grinding sound, and then the sound of something falling into place. The door, which had remained steadfastly closed since the day he first passed through it, opened with a creak so loud he might have thought it was a banshee.

'One of these days I'll remember to cast a silencing charm before you do that,' said Robards. Scrimgeour did not respond, but beckoned Lars to come out. He did. Robards then waved his wand as Lars crossed the threshold of his cell, and a pair of iron manacles appeared on his wrists, connected by a chain to another pair on his legs.

In another life, he might have asked if this was truly necessary. As it was, he could barely muster the energy to shuffle down the corridor toward the prison's exit, even with both aurors supporting him. The two patronuses that still strode on either side of them kept the dementors at bay, for which he was exceedingly grateful. He wondered how much time away from the dark creatures' influence it would take him to return to a sense of emotional normalcy, or if indeed he had been under their sway for so long that such a thing was no longer possible.

They passed a guard station near the castle's entrance, but there was nobody manning it. There was no permanent human staff anywhere on this accursed island. He imagined no amount of hazard pay or benefit packages could ever be incentive enough to convince any sane person to stay here long term voluntarily.

Great ironwood doors creaked open even slower than the one to his cell, and he got his first breath of fresh air in what felt like a lifetime. If the water had been sweet, this was bordering on heavenly.

They took him to a small boat that was bobbing in the waves and bumping against the rocks at the edge of the island, at which point their patronuses finally vanished. The wind was icy and relentless, yet felt somehow warmer than the stillness of his cell. The day was gloomy and overcast, but still indescribably beautiful for someone who'd lost hope of ever again seeing the sky.

It was impossible to apparate to or from Azkaban island, so they had to take the flimsy looking boat to a small rock – too small to even be called an island – a few miles offshore that the Ministry of Magic had designated for such purposes. Were it not for magic, the pathetic little boat would never have survived the trip over the freezing, choppy waters of the North Sea.

When they arrived at the little rock, which looked to Lars like it could sink beneath the waves at any moment, the two aurors tied up the boat next to the few others that were kept here, and without any sort of warning or countdown or anything, they disapparated with him, appearing a moment later inside a corridor in a building somewhere.

The first thing he noticed was that this new place – it could be literally anywhere, really – was warm. Really and truly warm. The second thing he noticed was that it was quiet. No screams, no wailing, no crashing waves or howling wind, just the clacking of their footsteps on a hard tile floor. There was a line of doors along the right side of the corridor they were walking down.

'You're not the first case being reviewed,' Robards explained when he saw Lars looking at the doors. 'There are a few others in the queue ahead of you. You should prepare to be waiting here for at least a few weeks.'

That this was said as though it were some manner of inconvenience – as opposed to the veritable luxury vacation Lars viewed it as – would have caused him to laugh, if his body had remembered how. As it was, all he managed was a muted, 'That's fine.'

'Just don't get too comfortable,' said Scrimgeour. 'If your trial goes the way I expect, we'll be taking you right back where we just came from.'

'Right ray of sunshine you are, Rufus,' said Robards. It was the closest thing to a joke either of them had uttered. Scrimgeour, for his part, grunted disapprovingly again.

'You'll be in here,' the wild haired auror said, opening the fifth door they came to. Inside was a plain room with bare wooden walls, a small camp bed with a thin blanket on one side, a toilet and washstand with a basin full of water on the other side. There was even a small window in the back near the ceiling that was letting in real actual sunlight.

It was a palace.

'You'll have half an hour to wash, if you wish, before the guards come to explain the rules to you,' said Robards. 'They will bring you something to eat, as well. After that I suggest you get some rest.' As if he needed to be told.

The two aurors then left without another word, shutting and audibly locking his door. He felt free, which was ridiculous, as he was still a prisoner, but a prisoner with five times the space he was used to, an actual bed, and no soul sucking monsters prowling around outside his door. It was only then, alone and locked up but far removed from the torturous existence he'd been enduring for longer than he could recall, that Lars Atron finally broke down and wept.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When Sirius had first proposed this idea, Lily had been dubious. Once the evening wore on and she found herself surrounded by people she loved and had missed terribly for months or even years, she had to admit that it had been a stroke of genius.

At the beginning of the night, she was waiting in the drawing room, where the one fireplace that would allow visitors to entire was situated. The official invite time was approaching; it was only twelve minutes away when the first people started to arrive. And the very first one (after the Longbottoms, who'd offered to help set up) was – as she had suspected – the person she'd been most longing to see.

'Lily!' cried Audrey McDowell, emerging from the floo with her arms already open for a hug. Lily embraced her best friend with an eagerness even she had not anticipated, and clung tighter and longer than was perhaps considered normal.

'Oof!' Audrey grunted, squeezing her back. 'I missed you too!'

'Sorry,' said Lily, releasing her. 'I suppose I didn't realize just how much I wanted to see you until just this second.'

'Don't apologize!' said Audrey, straightening her elegant dark green robes. 'I'd have been insulted if you hadn't bruised a few of my ribs. I'm so glad to see you. I missed you so much! I want to hear everything you've been doing, and I have a lot to tell you, too.'

'Well, come in,' said Lily, unable to keep the smile off her face. 'Except for Alice and Frank, you're the first to arrive. And Remus, I suppose, but he's been here all day so that hardly counts.'

'I wanted to come early and see you,' Audrey admitted, 'but didn't want to be rude. Plus I wasn't sure if your security measures would have allowed it. Brilliant work on those, by the way.'

'Thanks,' said Lily. 'And we would have made an exception for you; don't be ridiculous!' She ushered her friend into the house. 'James! Audrey's here!' she called.

'Brilliant!' came his reply from another room somewhere.

Lily turned back to her guest. 'How long has it been since you've seen everyone else?'

'Well, it's been since school since I've seen Alice and Frank, but I was never as close to either of them as you and James. Sirius and Remus I don't think I've seen since your wedding. Merlin, I didn't realize how long it's been for everyone until I started saying it out loud. I see a lot of Inka at work, of course and Stephanie, too, though she's in another department. Oh! I saw Heather a few weeks ago! Is she coming?'

'I hope so,' said Lily. 'We invited her, of course, and she said she would.'

'Oh, that's so great. I saw her in the bookshop but we barely got to talk. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!' She jumped forward and hugged Lily again. At this point James came into the room.

'All right, McDowell?' he said, oozing his usual charm. 'Great to see you; thanks for coming.'

'And you!' she said, releasing Lily and hurrying over to hug James as well. 'How are you? Keeping fit, I see.'

'I don't know how to tell you this, McDowell,' said James through a laugh, 'but I'm afraid I'm already spoken for.'

'You prat!' said Audrey, swatting at him. 'And here I thought you might have grown up a little.'

'Why would I want to do that?' asked James, grinning madly. Lily just sighed and shook her head – mostly to hide her own amusement.

Audrey surprised her by hugging James again. 'James, I was so sorry to hear about Peter,' she said. James's face clouded over.

'Me too,' he said.

'We're not talking about him,' said Lily, not unkindly.

'I thought you might not want to, but it felt so strange not to address it. I'm here if you need anything. Anything.'

'Cheers, McDowell,' said James, a bit of his smile returning. 'It'll take some adjusting, but we'll manage. And fair warning, I fully expect to take you up on your offer.'

'You'd better,' said Audrey with exaggerated sincerity.

'I think we'll have to post a warning that Peter is a taboo topic of conversation,' said Lily. 'Can I see your invitation?'

'Sure,' said Audrey, digging in her bag and handing it over. Lily made a few last minute alterations to it, to the effect of "Please don't mention Peter Pettigrew, thanks." Then she tapped it, activating the Protean Charm that had been included in case any last minute changes to the arrangements had been necessary.

'It's not that we don't want to talk about him,' she said to Audrey. 'We do, but tonight's supposed to be fun and that would probably bring a lot of people down.'

'Understandable,' said Audrey, taking her invitation back and returning it to her bag.

'Anyway, what am I doing?' Lily asked suddenly. 'Come in, come in!' she said to Audrey. 'I want you to meet Harry before everyone else starts showing up.'

'Ah!' Audrey squealed. 'I can't wait! The few pictures you've managed to sent me are adorable!' The two women exited the drawing room and Lily took her best friend to meet her son. It was something she'd been wanting to do since he was born.

James was kind enough to take on hosting duties for the next half hour or so, so that Lily and Audrey could catch up. Audrey couldn't get enough of Harry, and though he was getting too big to be held, she got to pick up him and hug him for a little while, which she claimed was nowhere near enough.

'I wish I'd been here with you while he was little,' she said a bit sadly. 'I wanted to help you. You know, do things around the house for you while your watching him, or watch him so you could take a nap. Little things that best friends are supposed to do for each other.'

'I wish you could have, too,' said Lily. 'But it wasn't safe. For you or for us.'

Audrey sighed. 'I know,' she said. 'But understanding doesn't mean I have to like it.'

'Now we're speaking the same language,' said Lily.

When Heather Brown arrived, James sent her straight to Harry's room to join them. Audrey was the first to spot her.

'Heather!' she gasped. 'You look gorgeous!'

'Oh Merlin, you do!' said Lily, looking up to see her other old dorm mate framed in Harry's bedroom door. She was wearing sleek purple dress robes with deep blue accents, dangling gold earrings and a glittering silver and gold snowflake necklace, and her brown hair was tumbling in waves over her shoulders, shining as though polished. She preened at their compliments.

'Largely in thanks to James's father,' she said. It was an old joke. Once they'd found out that James's father was the creator of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, they never missed an opportunity to tease him about it. It was an exercise made all the more fun by the fact that no matter how much they harped on it, it didn't bother him in the slightest.

'You know this wasn't meant to be a formal occasion, right?' asked Lily.

'I know,' said Heather. 'I just...wanted to look nice. It's been so long.'

'Well, you'll definitely make an impression,' said Audrey warmly. 'Come over here and meet Lily's baby.'

'Oh, let me see him!' Heather cooed. She came over and once and crouched down to where Harry was playing on the floor with some floating wooden blocks.

'Maybe we should have just had the party in here,' remarked Lily dryly, but still she was smiling. Sharing the experience of motherhood with her friends was something she had longed for tremendously.

'Yes, let's,' said Heather in all seriousness without even looking up. 'Who needs cocktails and adult conversation? This is what I came for. Look at his cute little hands!'

'Really?' asked Audrey, looking up and down at Heather's hair and clothes once again. 'This is what you came for, is it?'

'I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about,' said Heather, pointedly still looking only at Harry.

'Well, Harry's not likely to notice or care if you dressed up, is all,' said Lily, cottoning on to what Audrey was getting at. She was more than a year behind in her gossip, so she couldn't even hazard a guess on any specifics, but was there a bloke that Heather might be trying to look nice for? There were only so many on the guest list whom it could be; she was intrigued.

She and Audrey shared a look while Heather played on with Harry, seemingly oblivious to their wordless plotting. Something was going on, and they were going to find to find out what. This was exactly the sort of wacky, time-wasting nonsense she'd been missing.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

'Oi, Crouch!' called a voice from the next cell over. He and his compatriots were being held in a holding facility somewhere along the coast. Judging by the weather, he guessed Wales, but he couldn't be sure. There were aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad guarding them round the clock, but no dementors. This surprised Barty more than anything. He had fully expected to be sent straight to Azkaban, but it had been weeks and they were still here. Even with how insolent Bellatrix was constantly acting toward the guards, they hadn't been punished or moved.

If his father were still in charge, they definitely would have been sent straight to Azkaban.

'Crouch, you in there?' the voice repeated in a very grating lower class accent. Barty grit his teeth. Putting up with this trash was almost as bad as the fucking dementors.

'You hear the news?' the man drawled on, apparently resigned to the fact that Barty wasn't going to answer him. 'About your old man?'

Barty's ears perked up. What news? Maybe this was something worth hearing after all.

'What's that you're talking about?' he asked.

'So you are awake in their after all,' came the very smug reply. 'Not too good to talk to the likes of me, eh?'

'What were you saying?' Barty repeated, trying to keep as much of the impatience he was feeling out of his voice as possible.

'Word is, your dear ol' dad's not the one in charge anymore,' said the voice. Barty slumped. Of course. Old news.

'That's common knowledge,' he said irritably.

'That's not what I meant,' came the reply. 'That was just temporary, that was. Naw, this is new. Just heard this mornin'. One o' the guards was kind enough to gimmie his paper. The old bugger's been sacked. He's gone for good this time. And good riddance.'

Barty froze. This was new information. And if true…

'Where did you hear this?' he demanded.

'Told you, didn't I?' was the annoyed response. 'Read it in the paper.'

'That's not what I meant. Was this an official report or were they just repeating rumors?'

'Worried about him, are you? How sweet. No, it was official, all right. A statement from the Minister for Magic herself. He's out and won't be back. Well, not for at least fifteen years, anyway. Ha! Bloody old bastard. Serves him fuckin' right!'

Barty's mind whirred. If this was true...if his father really was no longer running the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, then his plans had to change. There were new options and opportunities now open to him. He had to think. He had to plan. This was excellent news.

'Oh!' cried the voice. 'Rotten luck for you, eh? Reckon he could've let you out of here right quick, eh? Now you're stuck in here with the rest of us. Too bad.'

Barty did not deign to answer, but could not stop the scoff he felt. His father running the department had basically been a death sentence for him. He had planned on playing innocent and begging for his father's mercy, but hadn't ever actually expected it to work. No, his father's dismissal was the best possible thing that could have happened to him.

'Oi!' called the man in the next cell again, but Barty had all but tuned him out. He had returned to his camp bed and was sitting on it, deep in thought.

He didn't know who his father's replacement was – probably Fawley, that gullible idtiot – but it would definitely explain why the four of them were being held here instead of in Azkaban. After the fiasco with Black, the Ministry would want to be seen doing the "right thing" and giving everyone a "fair trial", as if such a thing existed, and not sending anyone to Azkaban before they were pronounced guilty would be another of their idiotic attempts at high-mindedness. He'd bet anything that doddering old fool Dumbledore was behind it. So much the better for him.

The Lestranges were doomed. The aurors didn't even need any evidents; Bella hadn't been able to shut up about who they were, whom they followed, and what their intentions had been in attacking the Longbottoms that night. She seemed to take it as a point of pride that they along amongst the Dark Lord's followers had tried to find him. Which was all well and good, of course, but she was going to end up with a harsher sentence than she would have for mere breaking and entering and assault. And she was going to take her husband and brother in law down with her.

He, on the other hand, had just been dealt a way out. Barely out of school, the son of a formerly respectable ministry official just recently disgraced, if he played his cards right, he could make himself the "confused" and "misguided" youth who had merely been duped into following the Lestranges' plan. He hadn't really known what they were going there to do that night, and for all he did know, he'd been coerced into it. Conned. There were a half a dozen ways of coming at it; he just had to find the most convincing. The most compelling. The most sympathetic. He didn't expect to be let off scot free, but if he could manage a mere one or two year sentence, he could be back on the outside and searching for the Dark Lord that much sooner instead of languishing away in prison as some kind of living martyr.

He also had to think of a way to communicate to the Lestranges what he was doing. Rudolphus might figure it out, but that was a big if, and such an idea would never even occur to Bellatrix, who was far too proud for her own good. What good was pride if it prevented you from actually doing anything? She would assume that by not taking her stance and defiantly announcing her allegiance to the Dark Lord instead of trying to weasel his way out to a place form which he could actually be helpful, he was actually betraying the cause and would swear vengeance upon him accordingly. It wasn't as though she could do anything from prison, but it was a nuisance he could do without if at all possible.

He forced himself to be calm and think it all through. He had time, after all. Their trial dates hadn't been set yet. Ignoring the continued attempts of his neighbor to regain his attention, Barty set to work going over every possible strategy and every contingency. He would yet be useful to the Dark Lord, even if he had to do it himself.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Sirius was having the time of his life. This was exactly the sort of thing he lived for. People all around, having fun, enjoying each other's company, with himself the occasional – not constant, but often enough – center of attention. And some of these people he hadn't seen properly since leaving school over three years ago now. They'd promised to keep in touch, but even without bloody Voldemort and his bloody blood purists and their bloody war, life just sometimes got in the way.

Sixteen people had RSVPed to this soirée. Counting himself and Remus, James, and Lily, that made for an even twenty. He hadn't been around that many people outside of Order meetings in years. Could that be right? That couldn't be right.

'Moony!' He called, spying Remus standing apart from the throng as he was wont to do sometimes. 'Stop hiding over there in the corner and join the party!' He summoned a drink to his hand – a trick he had mastered such that he could catch it without spilling a drop – and waved at his more reticent friend, who shook his head and came over.

'I'm not hiding,' Remus said. 'Sometimes I just need to breathe.'

'Leave the poor bloke alone, Sirius,' said Lucas Shields, with whom he'd been chatting. 'Let him enjoy himself his own way.'

'Cheers, Shields,' said Remus, raising his own glass, which he'd been nursing for half an hour, in salute.

'Where's Decker?' Sirius asked Lucas, knowing he was losing and opting to change the subject. 'I was hoping he'd come too.

'Dunno,' said Lucas. 'Last time I spoke with him was a week ago; he was talking about some new job prospect down in South Africa.'

'Really?' asked Remus. 'What?'

'Wouldn't say,' said Lucas. 'Said he didn't want to jinx it. He was being rather cagey about it, honestly. I think he's considering leaving the country permanently.'

'If you had told me that a month ago I would have understood completely,' said Sirius. 'But now? Really?'

Lucas shrugged. 'It sounded like something he's had in the works for some time. Maybe it's too late to back out.'

'It's never too late to back out if it's not something you really want to do,' said Sirius. 'But I get it. That's an awfully big decision, and to have circumstances change so suddenly would be stressful at the very least.'

'How much have you had to drink?' asked Remus, giving him a side-eye. Lucas laughed.

'I'm allowed to be insightful on occasion!' he replied indignantly.

Whatever Remus was about to retort went unheard, because the chime rang that indicated somebody wanted to come through the floo. The only people who would have known how to do that had received invitations, but all the same, they had to be authorized by either James, Lily, or him. As both of them were currently occupied – James supervising things in the kitchen and Lily checking on Harry, it fell to him.

'Hold that thought, Moony,' he said, leaving the two of them and heading for the fireplace. There were only a few people on the invitation list who had yet to show up; he wondered idly who this one might be.

He threw some floo powder into the flames and called out a greeting. Under the security enchantments they'd arranged, anyone on the outside with the knowledge of Ivy Hall's floo access could make a connection, but it had to be received from inside before even a head call was allowed.

As the flames turned green, a head appeared in response to his greeting. A very familiar head.

'Decker!' Sirius cried in delight. 'What are the odds; we were just talking about you!'

'Only good things, I hope,' said the head of Max Decker, an old school friend who'd been in Ravenclaw with Lucas Shields. 'I wasn't sure if I could make it, but it looks like I've got a few hours free this evening and thought I should put in an appearance.'

'Too right, you should,' said Sirius, thinking of what Lucas had said about him leaving the country. 'But before that, what's your password?' Every guest had been sent a personal password along with their invitation.

'Bacon,' said Decker's head.

'Roger that,' said Sirius. Now for the part no one knew about until they showed up. 'One last question: what was the only prize you ever won, and how did you win it?'

Decker smiled widely; he was obviously enjoying the memory this question evoked.

'You and Potter and McDowell had to serenade us outside of Ravenclaw Tower,' he said. 'And we won because Evans was in Hospital so McDowell had to work with Brown and Castell, and Potter was too busy worrying about her to be any use.'

'Right in one,' said Sirius cheerily. 'Come on through, you arsehole.'

'Bell end,' Max retorted, rising out of the fireplace.

'Cunt.'

'Not very creative,' said Max, grasping Sirius's wrist and pulling him into a one-armed hug. The two of them slapped each other on the back thoroughly. 'Lost your touch? You dick.'

'"Dick" is creative?' Sirius snapped back incredulously. 'And you've stuck me with "E".'

'Whoever starts is always stuck with E,' said Max.

'Decker!' cried James. They looked over and saw him reentering the room, making his way straight toward him.

'No, we're past that already,' said Sirius. 'We're on E now.'

'Fuck off,' said Max, embracing James as he had Sirius. Lucas and Remus came over to greet him as well.

'Oh fine, skip ahead. Throw out all the rules!' Sirius blustered, tossing his hands in the air. 'No respect for tradition.'

'What are you gits talking about?' asked Remus, making his way over with Lucas.

'That's the spirit, Moony!'

'Made it, did you?' Lucas asked, ignoring Sirius's theatrics and greeting his friend cheerfully.

'Barely,' said Max. 'You wouldn't believe how much paperwork is involved in moving to another continent.'

'It's a sure thing, then?' asked Remus.

'I haven't signed on the dotted line or anything, but I'd say it's basically a certainty, yeah,' Max replied.

'Wait, what's this?' asked James, looking lost.

'Decker's apparently thinking of moving to South Africa,' Sirius answered. 'Permanently, if rumors can be believed.'

'What did you tell them?' Max said to Lucas just as James's shock was registering on his face.

'Just what you told me last week, and what I suspected,' Lucas said. 'Was I wrong?'

'No, you were right,' said Max, deflating a little. 'Now I feel like a coward for not telling anybody beforehand, but if I do go, I'm gone for good.'

'Really? Now of all times?' James asked.

'The war may be over, but my mum's still dead,' said Max sadly. 'I broke up with Abigail over a year ago, and it's not like my job is exciting or promising at all. And excepting tonight, I barely ever see any of you lot anymore. Face it, there just isn't anything keeping me here.'

'That's too bad,' said James, looking a bit sad. 'I'm glad we got to see you before you left, at least. Sure there's no way we can talk you out of it?'

'Not unless you can give me a compelling reason to stay,' said Max.

A small, almost inaudible throat clearing came from behind James. The five wizards turned to see Heather Brown standing there looking absolutely stunning, smiling shyly and looking only at Decker. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

'Hi, Max.'

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

I went back and rewrote half of this after it was done, so I really hope there aren't any inconsistencies. Pretty sure I caught them all, but if you spot any, let me know in a review so I can fix it.

The idea with this chapter is to show that there are broader implications to Lily and James surviving beyond the obvious, but on personal and societal levels. Hope you're enjoying it. See you next time.