Hello everyone! I warn you in advance, this will be a long AN, since someone noticed that I posted this exactly two years ago today. (Hence the early posting).
First of all, as usual, thanks to everyone who was kind enough to review: teragram143, , BraiveHart, Nuada Silverhand, roguepayne, VidereLux, Nik1804, lizyeh2000, and Cae-Leigh Anne. More than once I've changed the flow of the story depending on what you had to say about certain characters.
Next, thanks to everyone who followed and favourited. I never imagined that there would be nearly five hundred people still wanting to know how the story of Emma, Regulus and James continues. Actually, I never imagined that this would get past chapter 40. Now it's double! Hopefully, you are all still enjoying it, and don't find it too slow/repetitive.
If anyone thinks that there's a lack of description, or that Voldemort's speeches sound too strange to be him, please mention it in a comment! I'm trying to improve on that front.
Lastly, thanks so much to VidereLux for going through the chapter with a fine tooth comb to smooth out any mistakes.
Enjoy!
'You doing alright, mate?' James asked Sirius as soon as they walked through the doorway.
Sirius rolled his eyes. 'I'm not two feet from my bed yet, Prongs. If you want me to fall over, you'll have to give me a few more minutes.'
'That's not funny Padfoot,' Peter replied seriously, his eyes bright with tears of fright.
'No, I suppose it's not,' Sirius sighed, the cheerful smile on his face drooping.
James shot Peter a look, but it wasn't his fault that Sirius still wasn't himself yet. A week after the attack, as Peter had started calling it, and Sirius was only barely let out of the Hospital Wing, with instructions to come back every morning for a nerve-calming potion. At least his limbs had stopped jerking now, though James was sure that he had almost tripped over his laces on the way out.
Still, James thought he would explode with anger whenever he thought about Carrow. He hoped that he would get the chance to be the one to catch her, to force her to answer for her crimes on trial. He was starting to understand why Crouch didn't allow Death Eaters trials now. If Carrow's connections weaselled her way out of Azkaban, James didn't know what he would be capable of.
Luckily, Dumbledore had allowed the seventh years to join the Order of the Phoenix meetings at Hogwarts - with the status of observer, of course. However, as Lily reminded him, they were still in Hogwarts, and their only duel - if it could be called that - with an actual Death Eater had resulted in Sirius taking an Unforgivable. They just weren't ready for the real world yet.
'You know what?' Sirius asked, breaking into James's musing. 'I'm actually looking forward to Transfiguration this afternoon. Feels like it's been ages since I've even held my wand properly.'
There was an uncomfortable silence. James wished that Moony had come to collect Sirius with them; he probably would have known what to say. But he had been up all night finishing a Charms essay and had missed breakfast, so James and Peter had insisted he take his time for lunch instead. With that thought, James's stomach rumbled.
Sirius let out one of his barking laughs. 'I should have given you some of my lunch. I swear, one more day of the Hospital Wing's soggy buns and I would have lost it.'
Peter perked up after this joke and started telling them a funny story about Bertram Aubrey, their favourite victim to prank after Snivellus. Some things didn't have to change, after all.
Emma couldn't believe it. Her Arithmancy essay had come back with a large D scrawled on the top in red. She held back a groan. With all that had happened since Christmas, this was the fourth subject in which she was failing. In fact, come to think of it, she was currently only passing Charms and Potions.
'I'm very disappointed in you, Miss Potter,' Professor Archides said, frowning down on her. 'I've asked your Head of House to arrange a meeting. If you still wish to continue your career choice as a Curse-Breaker, you will need nothing less than an Exceeds Expectations in Arithmancy, especially since you have not taken N.E.W.T level Ancient Runes.'
Emma slid down her seat as far as she dared after that, her cheeks burning red. Amos Diggory in particular was looking at her pityingly, but with an arrogance that made her want to slap the expression off of his face.
"We won't even need our N.E.W.T.s in the real world", Alecto's words came back to her. "The Dark Lord won't care for how well we did in a silly school test."
Yeah, well, screw you Alecto, and screw the Dark Lord, she thought childishly. When the war is over, I would like to do something other than torturing Muggles.
If the war ever ends, another surly voice added.
Realising that her mouth had curled itself into a pout, Emma struggled to straighten her face and concentrate on the open book in front of her. The geometric shapes and calculations that usually came easily to her seemed to blur into Bellatrix bragging about kill counts and Rabastan reminding her of who would suffer the consequences of her inaction.
I haven't even done anything yet! She mentally screamed, rubbing her tired eyes so vigorously she began to see spots of light. They danced across her closed eyelids, morphing into a featureless face, twin lines trailing down her line of sight like ropes. Looking away, red and green lights morphed into fire, no matter how hard she tried to escape it.
There was no need to study Divination to guess what that meant.
Snapping her eyes open in defeat, Emma flipped the book shut. At least, she meant to. Instead, the heavy pages slammed onto the desk with so much force that Professor Archedis dropped the chalk he was using to demonstrate the use of pentagons in magical protections.
'Miss Potter!' he snapped, his tone brokering no argument.
But all he saw when he turned around was the door swinging on its hinges.
James had received a summons to Dumbledore's office ahead of schedule. It would coincide perfectly with his Herbology lesson, but Emily, the girl tasked with bringing him the note, insisted that Dumbledore was waiting. Glancing to the side to see his clueless expression mirrored on his best friend's face, James heaved a sigh and flipped his books shut.
Lily had convinced them to spend their hour of freedom on studying for the fast-approaching N.E.W.T.s – Lily-speak for the remaining two-and-a-half months before the exams. Surprisingly, Sirius had agreed. He was behind on all of their classes thanks to his week-long spell in the Hospital Wing, and was eager to catch up on all of his work.
Privately, James thought that he wanted to come to the library in the hopes of finding more advanced Defence spells in Remus's supply of "light reading" he was allowed to take out of the Restricted Section.
Sweeping the rest of his things into his bag, James slung it over his shoulder and made his way to Dumbledore's office, wondering what it would be about. He had been making the required marks for his Auror training, and he knew that if he worked as much as Lily in the weeks running up to the N.E. he wouldn't have much trouble with the exams.
The Marauders had rebaptised their image from conniving pranksters to heroes of the school, saving younger Muggleborns from the antics of the Slytherins and only pulling harmless pranks that made people forget about the war going on outside. So it wasn't because he was in trouble.
The last time he had been brought to the Headmaster's office in this way was because of his parents, but unless there was a third he didn't know about, he now had no living relations apart from Emma and he had seen her in a couple of classes that morning.
So it had to be about the Order of the Phoenix.
Excitement blossomed in the pit of his stomach, and he picked up the pace. Before he knew it, he was at the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office.
'Fizzing whizbees,' James enunciated slowly.
The Marauders made a point of knowing all of the passwords in the school, although there was an exception for House common rooms.
'Enter, James,' Dumbledore called from inside as soon as James's shoe touched the landing.
How does he even do that? James asked himself as he pushed the door open.
As usual, the Headmaster was sitting in his high-backed chair, surrounded by all sorts of strange silver instruments. Fawkes was sleeping on his perch nearby. James gingerly settled himself into the nearest chair, refusing the proffered Lemon Drop. Those things sucked all of the moisture out of his mouth.
'Now, you may be wondering why I have called you into my office,' Dumbledore said, popping three of the sickly yellow sweets into his mouth.
James suppressed a shudder, feeling a sudden craving for a tall glass of water. Unperturbed, the ancient wizard continued.
'The truth is that two of your fellow classmates have now been revealed to be Death Eaters. This is a place of education, not of recruitment, yet sadly Voldemort does not seem to notice the difference. He never did understand the concept of empathy.'
'You knew Voldemort?' James blurted out before he could stop himself.
Dumbledore gave him a level look. Averting his eyes, the Gryffindor did the only thing he could think of to avoid the stretching silence. He stuck a Lemon Drop in his mouth.
'Yes, I knew Voldemort,' Dumbledore sighed. 'He is one of the few students I believe to have failed as a teacher.'
James nodded seriously, trying to blink back tears. The Lemon Drop seemed to be sucking his cheeks in along with his saliva. This is not the time for your antics James, a voice strongly reminiscent of his mother chided him. He sat up a little straighter, taking a chance and swallowing the cursed sweet.
'Your sister is another.'
James almost choked; the Lemon Drop lodging in his throat. Calmly, Dumbledore handed him a crystal goblet of water that seemed to have just sprung into existence. Nodding his thanks, James gulped it down, before setting it down on the table. It wobbled.
'My... my sister?' he asked shakily. 'What does Emma have to do with this?'
Dumbledore gave James a small smile, but it was the type one gave before giving someone some bad news. It was the type Dumbledore had given him when he informed him of his mother's illness. Suddenly, James realised what Dumbledore was getting at. He felt himself rise out of his seat, knocking over his chair before he knew what he was doing.
'Are you comparing my sister to... to Voldemort?' he asked angrily, for once not caring that Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in the world and Headmaster of Hogwarts, was sitting before him. 'I can't believe what you're saying. Just because two Slytherin seventh years turned out to be Death Eaters doesn't mean that she is too!'
'James, please listen to me. Your sister has given up her capacity as Quidditch captain, her marks are subpar at best in many subjects, and Professor Flitwick has noted that she is not enthusiastic as usual. If you would just calm yourself-'
'I WILL NOT CALM MYSELF!' James shouted, incensed. 'Maybe you've forgotten this - sir - but both of my parents just died, and if you weren't so prejudiced, you would realise that my marks also went down for a while. And instead of helping her, you're accusing her of being a bloody Death Eater-'
'James,' Dumbledore interrupted. 'I am fully aware of your familial situation, but the fact remains that your sister is friends with Alecto Carrow-'
'If you knew anything about Emma, then you'd realise that she has barely talked to Carrow since the start of the year!' James continued, seizing on the nugget of false information. 'Maybe you should bring her in here so she can tell you more about Carrow, rather than going behind her back and trying to get me to turn on my own sister!'
Dumbledore waited until James had finished this time, his hands folded calmly in his lap.
'Are you quite done, Mr Potter?' he inquired.
If anything, this annoyed James even more, but he was panting from his speech and had nothing to add. Feeling a little sheepish, but secure in the knowledge that he was in the right, James sat back in his chair. He glared at a swinging glass pendulum, restraining himself from throwing it halfway across the room.
'If you had only waited until the end of my explanation,' Dumbledore continued, as if James hadn't just disrespected him, 'you would have realised that I am not trying to accuse your sister of anything. I merely wished you to know that Professor Flitwick and I are concerned with her wellbeing. This year, as you so rightly pointed out, has been hard on the both of you. However, your sister's friends are not so steadfast as your own, and we worry for her…safety.' Dumbledore ended the sentence a little hesitantly, but plunged on.
'James, I called you in here because the youngest of the Order are being tasked with watching potential Death Eaters within Hogwarts. Knowing the delicacy of your situation, I wished to bring up the matter of your sister with you in private, rather than this evening. The fact that two of her Housemates have been revealed to be Death Eaters makes me worried that Voldemort is exerting an influence on the more traditional pureblood families.
'The students of Slytherin have a reputation for wanting to make their parents proud, whereas the Gryffindors are more likely to stand for what they believe in. That is why many of the members in our group are Gryffindors. I am going to assign Order of the Phoenix members to each of the older Slytherin students so as to reassure them that there is another way, and to help them resist the temptation of Voldemort.
'James,' Dumbledore leaned forward, and suddenly he didn't seem like a kindly old man, but a wizened general, his face set like stone and his eyes hard with determination. 'I need you to watch over your sister. Voldemort will not take my students from Hogwarts.'
Emma stormed into the Slytherin common room to find not a soul in the dormitory. She was currently supposed to be in Transfiguration, but since her meeting with Slughorn finished not five minutes before the bell would ring, she didn't see the point in going.
The Giant Squid knocked on the glass wall as it swam by, its tentacle grasping for a second at the wall before realising the futility of its actions.
'You and me both, big guy,' Emma huffed aloud.
Slughorn hadn't been pleased. She was supposed to be his rising star, a prize in his collection, and here she was, thwarting his carefully laid plans. He had lined up an apprenticeship for her in Romania - a cluster of vampire nests had been found that weren't too dangerous for interns - and all she had to do was get three Os and two Es. That meant that one of her six subjects could slide a little, as long as it wasn't Arithmancy. However, at the moment she was barely scraping E's in Flitwick's class and she had always been a favourite of the Charms' professor.
Usually, she would have been able to play on the pity factor. She had an entire arsenal at her disposal, ranging from her parents dying to Sirius being hit by a curse (after all, they lived together for two summers) to Alecto turning out to be a Death Eater. Turn on the waterworks a little, and Professor Quirrel would be putty in her hands. That left Professor Archedis and Professor McGonagall. She should have gone to James, asked him for help, and then her marks would have been salvageable.
If she had explained all of this to Slughorn, she was sure that he would have pressured Archedis into giving her some extra credit to do over the Easter holidays.
But she hadn't.
She had sat there without saying a word, overwhelmed by the pure confusion of her future. She had been so worried about her present, about the Dark Lord, about keeping the rest of the Slytherins safe from Amelia Bones that her studies had been the least of her worries.
Even now, she couldn't bring herself to argue for her case, her mind instead straying as it had for the past week to what she would do within three weeks time.
What she would do at Little Hangleton.
Slughorn had dismissed her in the end, telling her that they would have another conversation after Potions' class the next week.
Her first thought had been to get as far from his office as possible. Now that she was in the common room, she didn't know what to do. She wanted to talk to Regulus - he always knew how to make things seem clear - but he was still in class.
Still, her feet were too itchy to stand still in the main area, waiting for the rest of them to return. On an impulse, she entered the seventh year boys' dormitory, deciding that she would wait for Regulus inside. If the conversation turned to the Dark Lord, then she wouldn't have to worry. They were all Death Eaters there.
Shifting the weight of her books onto the other shoulder, she walked towards Regulus's side of the room. It wasn't too hard to spot: his bed was made flawlessly, his books carefully stacked by height and girth.
Her bag suddenly slipped, crashing to the floor and bringing several papers off the desk along with it.
Cursing, she knelt down to pick them up - Regulus would kill her if his notes weren't properly ordered - and stopped as a title caught her eye.
The Dark Lord's speech - 18th November 1977.
My friends, the time is nigh. You have followed me through thick and thin, following my ascent as the rightful ruler of our fair world. On the darkest day of the year, when the night is long and the shadows rule, we will set a trap for the remaining Aurors unfaithful to our cause. Fear not, for greatness inspires envy, and those as yet caught in our enemies' lies will soon feel the real meaning of true power.
Her heart beating furiously, Emma dropped her bag, snatching up another page to read.
The Dark Lord's words to me - day of the Dark Mark.
Regulus Black, the youngest of the Blacks, and yet perhaps the one who will bring the most pride to his household. For that is what you wish, is it not? Glory above all else, the opportunity to show your true talent rather than stay within your brother's shadow, your mother's madness, your father's weakness. Now, now, do not close your eyes in despair, Regulus, for I have tasted power that others merely dream of. Power that will be yours for the taking, if you remain forever faithful to my cause.
The Dark Lord's speech, the allegiance of the werewolves - 7th July 1976.
Kneel to me, Fenrir Greyback, and I will see that your people will never go hungry again. For as long as I reign, for all of eternity, the Muggles will be yours for the taking, so long as you remain on the right side on the conflict. The war itself will be long and bloody, Albus Dumbledore will make sure of that. I delegate the task of ferreting out the werewolves loyal to his pathetic "Order" to you personally. I am certain that a man of your... talents…will know how to deal with the troublemakers.
On and on the pages went, and Emma found herself sinking to the floor, drinking them in one after one. They were all carefully numbered, certain parts of the speeches underlined, others referenced to by numbers that Emma was sure she would find in a booklet somewhere.
She felt sick. Of course, she and Regulus had supported the Dark Lord, but Emma felt as though she had been duped, mislead, that they were going to bring about a better world order instead of simply destroying the old one. Regulus seemed to grow more and more confident with each speech written. The later dates were scribbled fervently, as though Regulus were afraid to miss a single word.
Was it possible that she didn't know her boyfriend at all?
The door banged open, and Emma jumped, parchment scattering around her.
'What the-' Rabastan's laugh died in his throat. 'Emma? What are you doing in our room?'
The bewildered look never left his face as Emma summoned the fallen papers, grabbed her bag and dashed out of the door, nearly knocking him over in the process.