Previously in the Darklyverse: The Order of the Phoenix's attempt to ambush a group of young Death Eaters backfired, resulting in at least one casualty (CH36). Dumbledore invited Marlene to join his own group of Voldemort fighters—but not until she came of age and graduated (CH12). Marry plotted to gather intel against purists by going underground as a prostitute (CH33). Emmeline revealed to Sirius that she had blamed him for her parents' murders at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, leading to a fight between the two of them (CH25).

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May 6th, 1977: Peter Pettigrew

They all wind up in the Hospital Wing, Lily carrying Peter's missing leg with undisguised horror, where Madam Pomfrey un-Splinches Peter amidst the chaos of checking who's been Stunned, who's in a Full-Body Bind, and who's been—been killed. The death toll is at two: Mildred LeProut and Elisabeth Clearwater. Benjy Fenwick is crying silently over Liz's body, while Marlene seems to feel responsible for Millie and closes her eyes, holds her hands. In retrospect, they're damn lucky that more of them didn't die.

Of course it was a trap. Of course it was. Regulus Black wouldn't go around talking about his Death Eater plans where anyone could overhear him, even if he did feel relatively safe in a common room full of Slytherins; he must have purposely passed information along in earshot of Dorcas, knowing that she would bring it back to the resistance, knowing that that was his shot to set them up and do some real damage. Peter doesn't know how Sirius can stand being Regulus's brother, coming from a family like that.

Peter feels less ashamed of immediately turning tail and fleeing the scene when it comes out that that's what everyone eventually had to do in order to save themselves—well, in order to save everyone except Liz and Millie. Pomfrey is muttering loudly about foolish teenagers throwing themselves headfirst into a war they aren't ready for as she wakes some of them, counterjinxes others, and insists that still others stay on bed rest and swallow potions for nothing more than shock.

There are fifteen of them in all, not including poor Millie and Liz, and Peter's never seen the hospital wing this full. Some poor bastard is occupying a lone bed in the corner with fur all over his face, and he keeps ogling the group with interest while doing a very poor job of pretending to be sleeping.

Peter is just watching Madam Pomfrey fuss over a slowly waking Remus when the door swings open and Professor McGonagall pokes her head inside. "Poppy, is everyone more or less settled?"

"More or less," says Pomfrey with a sad glance at Liz's and Millie's bodies, which have been placed on top of beds with the sheets pulled over their heads. "Don't tell me you're insisting on talking to them about what happened now?"

"No: Professor Dumbledore is," says McGonagall, and Peter and Mary exchange a fleeting, terrified look. "Come along, now, up you all get."

The walk from the Hospital Wing to Dumbledore's office is dead silent, unbroken until McGonagall clearly says, "Fizzing Whizbee," to the statue at the base of the headmaster's tower. She beckons them all up but doesn't follow them inside. Alice, at the front of the group, knocks timidly on the door to the office, and they all shuffle in single file after hearing Dumbledore tell them to enter in a muffled voice.

There aren't nearly enough surfaces for everyone to sit, and it feels weird to plop down on the floor of Dumbledore's office, so they all stand there crowding around each other in the little office, Dumbledore rising to his own feet as well. "My sources received word not long ago," he says slowly, a sad sort of twinkle in his eyes, "that there was an ambush by a number of fully grown Death Eaters against a group of schoolchildren who thought they were going to—what? Scare some sense into a number of school-aged Death Eater sympathizers?"

"Don't call us schoolchildren," says James, and though his voice shakes, he stands quite tall. "Most of us are of age, and all of us are old enough to want to make a difference."

"That's enough, Mister Potter," says Dumbledore, and James rolls his eyes but falls silent. "Miss McKinnon," he says next, to Peter's surprise, and all heads whip to Marlene; she looks confused but defiant. "Do you remember a conversation we had in my office at the beginning of this school year, when I told you in confidence about a group I had been putting together of witches and wizards resistant to Voldemort's regime—a group that I invited you to join only after you completed your schooling?"

Marlene nods; there's a certain set to her jaw. "We weren't prepared to wait," she says simply.

"And now two of your classmates are dead," finishes Dumbledore wearily. Marlene hangs her head. "In retrospect, I suppose it was foolish of me to expect you all to wait. These are rash times, and Voldemort certainly will not wait to kill you and your families—hasn't waited, already, for some of you."

"Please, sir," says Dorcas, "don't blame them: blame me. It was my strategy and my information that got Elisabeth and Mildred killed tonight."

"Noble as it is of you to accept responsibility, Miss Meadowes, I'm not interested in placing blame tonight. You all know what you've done—whom you've lost—and I trust that all of you will proceed with caution in your actions against the Death Eaters, all the more so if you plan to join me."

They exchange bewildered looks. Is Dumbledore—? Surely he can't be…

"You're inviting us to join your group?" says Marlene frankly.

"I'm sure my fighters would be happy to join forces with the—what is it you're calling yourselves? The Order of the Phoenix—if you agree to defer to our judgment and not jump into any more situations you're not prepared for," says Dumbledore. He's still smiling, but to Peter, he looks incredibly sad.

"I'm out," says a voice somewhere behind Peter, and he turns to find Mary looking at the ground and blushing scarlet. "Before tonight, I had plans to—but what are we doing? Tonight proved that we're in over our heads with this. I'm not a fighter; I'm barely passing Defense as it is. I'd just be liable to get more of us killed."

"That's certainly within your choice, Miss Macdonald, and it takes a special kind of bravery to know when to recuse oneself from a high-stakes situation. You may go."

She nods and departs from the office; Peter can hear her footsteps flying back down the stairs as she descends them.

"For the rest of you," Dumbledore continues when no one else speaks, "let's begin."

xx

The last two Quidditch matches of the season are cancelled, as is the House Cup, out of respect to Elisabeth and Millie. The last few weeks of term pass in a blur to Peter, and it's hard to believe that he has final exams coming up, that not the whole world has stopped spinning in the wake of this tragedy that is all their fault.

Rumors are flying about what killed the two girls. Everyone seems agreed that Death Eaters did it—Dumbledore, in fact, announces at dinner the next day that they died at the hands of Death Eaters in a tragic confrontation in which they fought bravely—but no one seems to be able to agree on exactly how the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, both from entirely different social ranks, ended up in the same place as a gang of Death Eaters and fifteen other students, mostly those arrogant Gryffindor sixth years. Peter doesn't care, lets them talk: no amount of gossip will bring back the dead, and he's not interested in spinning the story to make himself look like anything but the idiot that he is for having thought he could take on Death Eaters and come out on top without any broader sense of organization.

The nine of them start doing everything together—Peter means everything—making it hard to catch any one of them alone for a private conversation. It's a full week and a half before he's able to get Emmeline alone, which is especially surprising in light of how much time she's been spending with Sirius lately.

"I know he's not interested in me romantically anymore," she tells him, twirling a lock of stringy hair around and around her finger. "That's something I have to live with every day. And really, I've been an arse to him, blaming him for years for something he didn't even know happened instead of letting him help me grieve it. But after what happened to Millie and Liz—life is short, you know? I don't want to waste it on these ridiculous feuds I've been creating between myself and everyone around me. And Sirius, by the grace of god, seems willing to forgive me, and I have to take that. If the best I can have with him is friendship, well, that doesn't have to be such a bad thing, does it? Not if I don't let it. I can miss what I could have had with him while still being happy for him and Marlene that they've found a way to make it work. Merlin knows all of us deserve to be happy however we can be."

"I think that's very big of you, Em," Peter says, and she smiles timidly.

"I'm trying. I am. I just wish I would have tried sooner."

They part ways, then, outside the library doors: Emmeline goes in to get a head start studying for their Transfiguration final, while Peter doubles back and makes toward the common room where they came from. He's halfway down the corridor when he feels his feet leave the ground and his back slam into the marble wall behind him. "Hey, Mudblood."

Great. Alecto Carrow. Exactly what Peter needs right now. "Let me go before I hex you," he says, more bravely than he feels.

"Look at the little Mudblood making his little threats! So cute."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Heard about what happened to your little gang of friends in the clearing the other day. Hey, say hello to Mildred LeProut for me, will you?"

Peter can feel a cold sweat breaking across his forehead, and he thrashes to get away from Carrow, but to no avail. "What do you want?" he says again.

"Oh, nothing yet. Just for you to keep me in mind and give me a head start the next time that little rebellion group of yours thinks about making moves against us, yeah? You keep me informed; I keep you safe."

"And what exactly do I need to be kept safe from?"

"I can think of a few things," says Carrow, raising a fist and pummeling the wall right next to Peter's head. He grins cruelly. "Think it over. We won't use so much information that anyone will suspect the mole is you—we'll just get our feet wet with it."

"I'll never betray my friends. Never," says Peter, his voice shaking, and he launches himself free of Carrow and takes off running down the corridor.

"Not yet," Carrow calls after him, and Peter can hear the sneaky smile on her face.

xx

END OF PART FIVE