Amelia pretended to be composed as she strolled casually down the street in Godric's Hollow.
"I used to love Halloween," she said quietly to herself. "Especially when I was little. Reckon it was my favorite day of the entire year, better even than Christmas or my birthday." She hastily wiped her eyes and smiled at a passing witch. "The entire wizarding world loves Halloween, but I grew up among Muggles. Only day of the year I got to see my mother show off, only day everyone pretended to believe witches were real. Now look at me," she muttered unhappily. "Six years and I still can't keep it together."
She shouldn't have waited so long. She knew that, but – she couldn't bring herself to come sooner. The little village had all the trimmings expected of a wizarding community at Halloween. Only someone looking for it could have detected the faint subdued air that lingered as Amelia came to a stop in front of the memorial. The obelisk was covered in the names of the dead and the missing. As she watched, it transformed into a commemorative statue. Three people made of stone, a happy family: a man with unruly hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms.
Eyes wet with tears, Amelia turned away. She walked through the kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard, kept walking behind the church, through row upon row of shadowed tombstones. Amelia knelt down beside a white marble headstone, crying freely.
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
When her tears finally slowed, Amelia removed a potted plant from her bag. "I know it's the wrong time of year to plant anything, but I couldn't bring myself to come sooner. I'm sorry, Lily, I should have come sooner. I just . . . I – I was a coward. I couldn't face you. I lost too many friends. The downside to being on the frontlines. Anyway, it's a pumpkin. You know, for Halloween. Remember that – that October, when we were carving pumpkins in your kitchen? You told me to get the Secret from Sirius. I should have come sooner. Maybe if I had – "
Taking a deep breath, Amelia finished planting the pumpkin and gave it an infusion of magic to help it grow. "I know that's not very good for the plant, but I reckon it will make up for planting it now and not in the spring. I'll try not to wait so long to visit next time."
Blinking away tears, Amelia stowed her wand in her sleeve and walked out of the graveyard and down the lane. She stopped at the end of the row of houses, in front of one that looked the worse for wear, having been abandoned these last six years. Rubble lay scattered in tall grass behind the wild unkempt hedge. Ivy climbed the walls of the cottage, mostly intact, except for the right side of the top floor, which looked to have been blown apart.
"It should have ended here," Amelia whispered. "It shouldn't have taken Alice, too. And Frank."
She reached for the rusted gate to steady herself and watched a sign rise out of the ground, up through the nettles and weeds that had taken over the Potters' lawn. She read the golden letters inscribed on the wood.
On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,
Lily and James Potter lost their lives.
Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard
ever to have survived the Killing Curse.
This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left
in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters
and as a reminder of the violence
that tore apart their family.
Around the neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped, just as other visitors had added scribbles on other signs the whole world over. Some had signed their names in Everlasting Ink or carved their initials into the wood, while others had left messages.
"Isn't it enough?" Amelia gasped. "Isn't it enough everyone celebrated the day after they died? Why did you have to desecrate the sign too? Why'd you have to do that too? Why?" She sank down to the ground, sobbing. "Why?"
"Why didn't I come sooner? Lily told me to come. It had been a week. I should have come. Why didn't I? Why didn't I visit? Why? Why did he betray them? Why did Sirius sell out his best friend?"
"Becoming a Legimens hasn't done much to help me control my emotions. I'd say I'd have to improve my Occlumency next, but I'm fine as long as I'm not alone. But I . . . " Amelia trailed off as an idea occurred to her. "I wanted to know why. Well then, I reckon I should go ask him."
Orienting herself, and checking to be sure no one was looking her way, Amelia transformed into an owl and began the long flight to the North Sea.
The long journey gave her time to think. More than once she considered turning back but the lure of answers kept her going. Sirius had been her friend once. He would face her for what he had done and she would know why he had betrayed everything he claimed to care about.
Her temper flared several times as she flew, but when she finally reached the dreary island Amelia was much too tired to sustain her anger. Blocking her mind from the senses of the dementors, she sought out the cell of her prey.
It took more than one circuit of the prison to locate Black. At the late hour of night there were a surprising number of inmates awake. Black was not one of them. He was instead sprawled unconscious on his bed. His hair had grown out and was a tangled, dirty mess. He was unnaturally thin and drawn, with deep shadows beneath his eyes. He seemed unlikely to wake anytime soon.
Oh well. That made this both easier and more difficult.
Amelia squeezed her owl form through the bars of the window. Checking the vantage of the room to ensure no one could see in, she transformed back into a human. A quiet, murmured spell and she kept any sound from leaving the cell. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she knelt beside the bed, pulled open his eyelids, and said, "Legilimens!"
The Azkaban cell swam around her before disappearing completely.
Amelia stood in front of the Potters' cottage and watched Sirius knock on the door. This was the Sirius of years before, and judging by the Halloween decorations, it was likely six years ago.
What in Merlin's name?
Lily answered the door, James right behind her, Harry in his arms. "Sirius!" She exclaimed. "You are early! We weren't going to work the spell until later."
"I know, but . . . I had a thought," Sirius explained.
"Really? Come in and you can explain," Lily replied.
Amelia went to follow Sirius through the doorway and had the disconcerting experience of having Lily close the door through her. Amelia stopped in the entrance and looked down at her body. It looked solid to her but when she waved her hand, it passed right through the walls.
"Okay, that is very strange," she said to herself. "This was not what I was expecting."
She recalled fragment of one of the books on Legilimency. Use caution when attempting to touch the unstable mind for Legilimency does not always react as expected in such situations. The unstable mind . . . and everyone went mad in Azkaban. Not as thought through as she had hoped. Amelia exhaled noisily.
She could hear the trio conversing in the living room but temporarily ignored it. She closed her eyes and tried to pull herself out of Sirius' mind. There. Amelia could feel the hard cell floor beneath her knees. With the knowledge she wasn't trapped, Amelia allowed Sirius' memory to drift back over her.
"I am the obvious choice," Sirius-of-six-years-ago was telling James and Lily. "It's obvious. Voldemort will know it's me. But if we use someone else as the Secret-Keeper – then we can use me as a decoy."
"No!" came Sirius' anguished yell.
Amelia darted into the living room to see a fourth adult.
"Don't listen to him!" the Sirius from Azkaban yelled. He threw himself at his younger self but passed right through.
"Make Peter the Secret-Keeper instead," the younger Sirius continued. Amelia stood transfixed in shock.
"Don't," the older, disheveled Sirius begged James. "Stick with the plan we agreed on. I'll be the Secret-Keeper. James, Prongs, please. Please. Don't give it to Peter. Don't involve him." Amelia seemed to be the only one who could hear him.
"He is weak, and easily overlooked, Voldemort would never think to come after him. He's a better choice," younger Sirius said.
"That might actually be a good idea," James replied.
"NO!" older Sirius cried.
"Voldemort and every single one of his Death Eaters will be hunting you, Sirius," Lily said worriedly.
"That means they won't be after Peter," younger Sirius returned.
"No!" older Sirius shouted. "You can't trust Peter! He's a rat! We should have been suspicious of him the moment we realized his Animagus form was a rat!"
Animagus?
"Moony!" older Sirius shouted desperately. "Make Remus the Secret-Keeper instead! He's been acting strangely but he would never betray you! He's a werewolf! We're the only friends he has! He would never betray the Order! James, please."
Amelia knew Remus was a werewolf; she knew how to read a lunar chart. But Animagi?
James was but a memory and only heard the younger Sirius and his convincing arguments.
"Lily," older Sirius pleaded. "You know; James told you what we are, what we did. We were skilled enough to become Animagi our fifth year at Hogwarts! Don't let him do this! Don't let him throw all that away!"
But the Lily of memory couldn't hear him either. She headed toward the fireplace. "I'll go talk to Peter," she offered.
Amelia meanwhile circled the older Sirius, who was still desperately trying to change the actions of his memory.
"Azkaban makes a person relive their worst memories. Huh. No wonder everyone goes mad in here." She watched the Azkaban-Sirius pleading with ghosts that couldn't hear him. "So you weren't the Secret-Keeper?" she asked. But she was as separate from Azkaban-Sirius as he was from the figures in his memory and he couldn't hear her.
"I knew Remus was a werewolf. I think most of the Order knew, but . . . you never told us you were Animagi. You, James, and Peter? You aren't registered. Why didn't you register? Unless . . . oh, you didn't. Oh, but you would. You were always sneaking out. And you were cocky and arrogant and foolish enough to think running around with Remus on full moon nights was a great idea. That's why you became Animagi, isn't it? To cavort around the grounds with a werewolf?" Amelia threw up her hands. "You are an idiot!" She sighed.
Amelia watched the memory play out. Watched Azkaban-Sirius make increasingly desperate pleas in an attempt to change the past. Watched Lily use Floo Powder to converse with Peter before the latter agreed to become the Potters' Secret-Keeper.
"You weren't the Secret-Keeper," Amelia said in shock. "You . . . couldn't have betrayed them."
Azkaban-Sirius collapsed to his knees and the scene dissolved.
It reformed on an Order of the Phoenix meeting. Amelia herself was present in the memory. Legilimens-Amelia gasped in realization. They were discussing the current state of the opposition – and briefly mentioned the disappearance of Regulus Black. Because she knew to pay attention she saw the devastation that crossed Sirius' face before he squashed it down and shrugged it off.
The scene dissolved again.
Amelia stood on a Muggle street. Two wizards were there as well. Sirius Black looked furious, Peter Pettigrew looked frightened.
"Lily and James, Sirius? How could you?" Peter cried, trembling.
Shock flitted across Sirius' face, quickly replaced by fury. Sirius went for his wand. "You –"
If Amelia hadn't been watching closely, she never would have seen it. Sirius grabbed for his wand – but Peter, the hopeless duelist, was quicker. Sirius did not have his wand out when the street blew. And Peter – he cried out and shrank into his robes. There was blood everywhere – and a rat scampering away to drop into the crater that reached down to the sewer. Just another rat.
"Peter was the traitor," Amelia whispered. "He was the one that killed them. And you – he set you up. He – he received the Order of Merlin, First Class. For betraying his friends! And faking his death. Merlin. Peter's alive. What a mess."
Sirius stood there, staring at the milling rats with an expression that was somehow simultaneously intent and blank. He seemed oblivious to the Muggles screaming around him, to the bodies sprawled on the blasted street. He seemed to stand there motionless for an eternity. But slowly, something in his expression changed. The shock and the anger dwindled into a kind of ragged loss. He exhaled in a short burst, then again, almost like a hiccup. Before long Sirius was laughing, a harsh, hysterical laughter born of madness and grief.
Amelia honestly couldn't blame him. She wanted to have some hysterics of her own. She broke off the connection, fleeing the haunting memories to the cold solidity of his cell in Azkaban.