Chapter Six: November 1973
"What's going on?" Remus Lupin asked his friends, bemused. James and Sirius had practically pulled him into an abandoned classroom, with Peter lagging behind.
"I know we're not as bookish as you, but we're not idiots," Sirius started.
"I never said you were," Remus responded, flabbergasted.
"So how did you think you could hide from us the fact that you sneak out near the Forbidden Forest for a couple of days every month?" James asked. He crossed his arms. "We're your friends, mate. We can be trusted."
Remus paled. "I told you in our first year. I have to go home to see my mother. She's sick. I don't know why you're talking about the Forest."
"Do you think we bought any of that rot?" James scoffed.
"Yeah, maybe at first, but then we started watching you." Sirius peered at Remus. "We never actually saw you leave the grounds."
"McGonagall has a fireplace in her office. I use Floo powder to get home," Remus defended stubbornly. He felt his palms get clammy.
"And that would make sense, except we see you walk outside. With Madam Pomfrey of all people. I've used my invisibility cloak to follow you out there," James added.
"You did what?" Remus asked. His throat suddenly felt tight. "Why would you do that? Why couldn't you just trust me?"
"Because there's nothing you could tell us that would make us hate you," Sirius said matter of factly. "You're our mate. You're one of us."
"Maybe it's time you trust us," Peter suggested timidly. "You know everything about us, but you're clearly hiding something."
"It's extremely, extremely private," Remus whispered. "I'm not even supposed to be here at Hogwarts. This is...it's big, and I was sworn to secrecy."
"By who?" Sirius laughed. "I've told you lots of things my family told me never to reveal. But honestly, does it matter that you know where to find the Black family grimoire? No. So whatever your secret is, you can tell us."
"No, I really can't," Remus said. He looked at his friends with tears in his eyes. "I'd be expelled if I told you."
"Remus, we've done lots of things that we should have been expelled for. We always manage to get away." Sirius shrugged. "Why should this be any different?"
"Because this is dangerous." Remus closed his eyes. "I'm dangerous."
"If you want us to bugger off, that's not the thing to say," Sirius said excitedly. "What's this big, dangerous secret?"
"Wait." James placed a comforting hand on Remus' shoulder. "This seems really big, mate. If it's...if it's really that big, say so, and we won't mention it again."
"James!" Sirius groaned. "Why would you say that?"
"Because he looks terrible," James said bluntly. "Look at him. This is a bad, bad secret, whatever it is. If Remus doesn't want to tell us, he shouldn't feel forced to."
Remus smiled. When he became friends with these three, he knew that his life would be full of adventure. Thanks to his upbringing, he was surprised when his friends wanted to stick by him.
But these three had never given him any reason to doubt them.
"If I tell you, you have to promise to never, ever, ever tell anyone. Ever," Remus said firmly. "I mean it. Or I'll be expelled."
"We could make the Unbreakable Vow," James offered.
"Really?" Peter squeaked. "We could die!"
"You're not going to die," Remus chuckled. "I'm not going to let anyone take the Unbreakable Vow. But," he said, a wry smile on his face, "it means a lot to me that you'd suggest it."
"So?" Sirius leaned back against a desk. "What is this big, no-nonsense secret?
Remus took a deep breath, and began his tale.
He told his friends about his seemingly normal childhood. About how his father, a Ministry worker, had angered werewolf Fenrir Greyback through his work. In retaliation, Fenrir had decided to turn Lyall Lupin's son into a werewolf.
"And I'd been homeschooled ever since," Remus finished. He was glad to finally tell someone the truth. "I wasn't going to come to Hogwarts. Mum and Dad wouldn't let me, for obvious reasons. So they wrote to Dumbledore and told him I wouldn't be coming, no matter what my Hogwarts letter said."
"What happened?" Peter whispered, in awe.
"Dumbledore came to our house," Remus said. "He came and said that my affliction was no reason to be denied an education. He said that he would personally make arrangements for me, and he did."
"Good man, Dumbledore," James said approvingly.
"He really is," Remus agreed. "So, every month on the full moon, Madam Pomfrey takes me to the Whomping Willow. I press a knot, and that stops the tree from attacking me. There's a tunnel connecting the tree to that creepy building you can see from Hogsmeade. I stay there while I'm a wolf."
"Hold on. You're the reason we call that creepy place the Shrieking Shack? That's awesome, mate!" Sirius exclaimed. "You're a legend!"
"Sirius, the sounds coming from that place are Remus in pain," James reminded his friend. "Be sensitive, eh?"
"Oh, right. Sorry, Remus," Sirius apologized. "I don't reckon it's fun."
"No," Remus snorted. "It's the exact opposite of fun."
"I'm sorry you have to go through that alone," Peter said. He shuddered. "With no one to talk to for days? That sounds awful."
"If only there were some way we could come with you," James mused.
"I wouldn't want you to come with me. I like you lot alive," Remus said, grinning. "I appreciate the thought, though."
Sirius looked at his friends, his eyes bright. "We could do something, you know. We could try to make it so that we could go with you. And that it would be safe."
Remus cocked his head. "What do you have in mind?"
Sirius shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm sure we could figure it out. We may not love to study, but we're a smart group."
"Speaking of which," James said, looking at his watch, "we're about to be late for Transfiguration. McGonagall will skin us alive if we're late again."
"You'd think she'd be nicer to students from her own house," Sirius grumbled.
"I don't want detention again," Peter moaned.
"Then let's go!" Remus said, jumping up. He looked at his friends. "Thank you for listening."
"Any time, mate." James clapped him on the shoulder on his way out. "Now, come on!"
In the end, the quartet made it to Transfiguration with one minute to spare.
"Where is McGonagall, anyway?" Sirius whispered to James. "Seriously, she's always here at least ten minutes early."
"I dunno," James replied, shrugging. "Better for us, though."
"What's with the cat?" Peter asked. He pointed to a cat that was watching them from atop Professor McGonagall's desk.
"Maybe McGonagall will turn it into a shelf or something. Who knows?" Remus took out his textbook and then looked at the cat again. His eyebrows raised in alarm, and quite by accident, he raised his voice, too. "Woah, why does it look like it's getting ready to pounce?"
Every student heard that, and they all turned to the desk, where the cat was indeed preparing to run.
"Should we help it?" Lily asked from her own desk, alarmed. "Does it need something?"
Suddenly, the cat ran across the desk and jumped into the air. A few of the students screamed as the cat suddenly transformed into Professor McGonagall. Then, the screams turned into enthusiastic applause.
"I appreciate the thought, Miss Evans," Professor McGonagall said once everyone had calmed down. She turned to Remus. "Mr. Lupin, surely you can appreciate that I don't want anyone turning me into a shelf. Or anything else, for that matter," she added sternly, with a particularly watchful gaze on Sirius.
Sirius grinned. "As you say, Professor."
"Now, who can tell me why I was able to do what I just did?" Professor McGonagall turned to look at the rest of the class. "Yes, Mr. Macmillan?"
While Macmillan was talking about Animagi, Remus felt Sirius poke him with the edge of a quill. Looking down, Remus looked at Sirius' scrappy handwriting.
What if we could turn into animals like McG? Could we come with you?
Remus looked up at Sirius and grinned.
"Professor?" Minerva stopped putting away her students' homework at the end of her lesson and looked up to see James standing above her. "Can I ask you a few questions? You know, about the lesson you just did on Animagi?"
Minerva felt her eyebrows raise in surprise. In two years, James had not once asked Minerva a serious question about Transfiguration. "Yes, of course, you can. What would you like to ask?"
"Well," James said, pulling out some parchment and a quill, "how does someone just become an Animagus? Are there sources I could read? Wait, do you get to choose your animal?" He frowned. "What if you end up with a stupid animal?"
"No one just becomes an Animagus. It takes a lot of hard work." Minerva nodded at his parchment. "I can give you some information about the process if you wish to write it down."
Minerva was very thankful she knew the Animagus process by heart. She didn't have to think about what she was saying and could simply observe her son. James scrunched his nose while writing notes in a way that reminded Minerva so much of Dalton that her heart ached.
When she had finished her explanation, James read what he had written. "So you can't choose your animal? What if you end up with a useless animal? Like a fish?"
Minerva laughed gently. "There's no such thing as a useless animal, Mr. Potter. However, I will agree that a fish Animagus form would certainly cause its own complications."
"You're not kidding," James murmured. "If you're not around water, you're doomed."
"Perhaps not doomed," Minerva said slowly, smiling. "You'd simply have very bad luck."
"Thanks, Professor." James grinned. "It's good to hear about this from someone who actually did it. It's better than reading about it in a book. See you tomorrow."
He turned and left her classroom, leaving Minerva bemused in his wake.
"How was your day, Tabby?" Albus asked. He hadn't had time during dinner to talk to his wife. She had, rather unfortunately, been required to help break up a squabble between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables.
"Why do you ask?" Minerva sat tiredly beside him on the couch. "You saw what happened during dinner. That was horrible."
"But you righted everyone in the end," Albus continued cheerfully. "No, I'm talking about the feeling of happiness I felt at the end of fifth period today. Which, if I'm not mistaken, is when you teach your third-year Gryffindors."
Minerva smiled. "Today, I discovered that James may be interested in Transfiguration."
"I thought he always had an aptitude for the subject. He is your son, after all."
Minerva's lips curled upwards at the compliment. "He has a natural talent for the subject, yes. But he has never before shown an academic interest in it. Today, he did."
Albus raised his eyebrows. "Any idea why?"
"Today was the lesson where I showed my third-years my Animagus abilities." Minerva grinned proudly. "I should have known that particular demonstration would pique his interest."
"I thought you normally did that much earlier in the year."
"Normally, yes. But this year, I wanted to wait, I suppose. I have no idea why, but it felt right."
"Look at you. You're finding new ways to change your schedule."
Minerva ignored his teasing and clutched his hand. "After class, James came up to me and asked about the process of becoming an Animagus. He really seemed to care about the procedure, and he even asked after academic sources! Albus, he took notes!"
Albus laughed gently. "Well, that sounds like a wonderful development. I told you he would come around sooner or later."
"He's still a bit of a git," Minerva admitted, causing Albus to laugh more. "But yes, I can happily report that his grades have improved. James is still causing trouble, but he is more...settled, I suppose."
"I'm glad to hear it." Albus raised an eyebrow. "Have you been paying attention to Lily and James?"
"Albus, you know I have."
"No, but I mean as Lily and James. As a couple."
Minerva released a bark of laughter. "No, Al! For the love of Merlin, they're only thirteen. Stop trying to play matchmaker for our children."
"I'm merely curious about their bond, that's all." Albus ran a hand through her hair. "I simply want to know if and when our children will discover their love for each other."
"As long as I don't have a front row seat this time around, I do not care when it happens," Minerva said, grimacing slightly. She had no desire to catch her children in flagrante again. "Besides, they were very, very young the first time. Maybe they'll be older this time around. More mature."
"You mean maybe they'll be in their twenties before they get married?"
"Precisely."
"That would certainly make things better for their parents," Albus mused. He looked at his watch. "Oh, heavens, is that the time?"
"Where do you have to be at this hour?" Minerva asked incredulously. She had become quite comfortable on the couch, leaning against Albus as he rubbed her head.
"Where do we have to be, my dear. We have an Order meeting tonight."
"Oh, damn," Minerva groaned. "I had forgotten about that."
"You can always stay here," Albus said cautiously. "In fact, why don't you stay here? You've had a tiring day, the revelation about James notwithstanding."
"You know damn well that I go where you go," Minerva replied firmly. "I may not be partaking in the fighting because you appealed to my duty to this school, but I can certainly handle attending the meetings."
"As you wish." Albus helped her up from the couch. "I'm afraid tonight won't be a very pleasant meeting."
"Have we lost anyone else?" Minerva asked sadly.
"Not that I'm aware of—and I would like to think that someone would tell me immediately if we had a casualty. No," Albus said, shaking his head, "no, this war is simply moving at a pace that is too quick for my liking."
"So I take it that means a resolution isn't necessarily closer."
"I'll brief you tonight as I brief everyone else," Albus responded amusedly. "Come along—and grab your cloak. I may not be able to prevent you from coming, but I would prefer it if you didn't catch hypothermia at the same time."
Minerva glared at him, but Summoned her cloak anyway.
Once they had arrived at Scrimgeour Manor, and everyone was seated around the table, Albus began.
"I'll begin with the good news," Albus said. "It would appear that the Aurors have caught one of Lord Voldemort's henchmen."
There were several sharp intakes of breath around the table as Albus used the dark lord's name. At some point over the last few years, Riddle had begun leaving ridiculous notes at his crime scenes, all saying the same thing: In the hands of Lord Voldemort. Come to fear my name, as you shall soon fear me.
The Ministry, of course, had clung to the fact that they now had an identity for the person wreaking havoc throughout Britain. The Minister for Magic had taken Riddle at his word and dubbed him He Who Must Not Be Named. Albus thought that the moniker was even more ridiculous than Voldemort, and he endeavoured to use Riddle's chosen name whenever he spoke about him.
Much to the chagrin of everyone in Albus' company.
"Which one?" Ro asked. To her credit, Ro wasn't bothered much by the name of Voldemort.
After all, she still thought of him as the idiot Slytherin that Minerva had beaten in the Triwizard Tournament.
"David Rookwood," Albus revealed. "He's the father of Augustus Rookwood, who, as we all know, works in the Unspeakables department."
"I'll make sure I keep a close eye on Augustus," Callum interjected. "If he's up to anything, I'll inform you."
Albus nodded in thanks, but Minerva's stomach clenched. It was one thing to have her husband leading this resistance, but to have her brother and best friend so involved...it was simply more worry to keep her up at night.
"We have a bigger problem," Alastor interrupted. "Yes, we caught David. But I'm more afraid of what he was able to reveal to us."
"What did he tell you?" Molly Weasley asked.
"As I told Dumbledore," Alastor said with a jerk of the head in Albus' direction, "he showed us a mark on his arm."
Minerva instantly felt her blood run cold.
"What kind of mark?" Minerva inquired sharply. She now had a suspicion as to why Albus wanted her to remain at the castle. "On which arm?"
Alastor looked at her as though her last question was ridiculous. "The left arm, not that it matters. The mark is a kind of serpent—it looks like it runs through a skull. They call it the Dark Mark. They've taken to casting it over their victims, now." The Auror looked disgusted. "And we now have a name for the disgusting vermin that joined Voldemort."
Albus finished for his friend. "They call themselves the Death Eaters."
Arthur Weasley groaned. "That's annoying, but surely that name doesn't change anything."
"The name might not, but think about it, Weasley!" Alastor reprimanded sharply. "They cast this mark over all of their victims, Muggle or not! If Muggles see a skull and a snake floating in the sky, we'll have a bigger issue on our hands."
"Alastor, tell them what the mark does," Albus said.
Alastor huffed. "These so-called Death Eaters use it as a communication device of sorts. If Voldemort presses on his own mark, then anyone else bearing the mark is instantly notified. It's an extremely rapid method of communication. One that even our Patronuses can't replicate." He smiled cruelly. "Apparently, the mark can also be used to bring pain to the bearer if Voldemort is in an unpleasant mood."
Minerva felt sick. When they were both students, Riddle had unintentionally branded her arm. It hurt whenever he approached her, but it hadn't caused her pain since she had last feared him in 1951. Riddle hadn't even known that he had given her the mark until Minerva had pointed it out to him. She must have been the inspiration behind this grotesque mark, Minerva knew, and she felt her hatred of Tom Riddle grow.
"While this does seem like bad news," Albus continued, "it is at least a step forward. We now know how they are communicating so quickly. At least now, we'll be able to better anticipate their numbers in battle."
"What, so now we can expect them to multiply quickly?" Gideon Prewett scoffed.
"Yes," Albus said quietly. "I know it may not seem like much, but it is something. And something, after all, is better than nothing."
"Minerva, are you all right?" Ro asked suddenly. She squinted at her friend. "You look pale."
Minerva felt rather embarrassed as all eyes turned to her. "Actually, I'm not feeling so well. I'm going to excuse myself."
She felt more than one pair of eyes on her as she left the room. Minerva knew that everyone would think she was returning to Hogwarts. Instead, she did something she hadn't done since her first husband was alive, and she walked through Scrimgeour Manor.
Before the inception of the Order, Minerva had only been inside this particular manor once or twice, and only ever with Aidan. Still, her feet led her to Aidan's childhood room. She smiled softly as she opened the door. Albus had told her that he had preserved the house for her, but she hadn't expected everything to be so...intact.
The bedclothes, while old, were still in good condition. Aidan had left items strewn all over the room—most were posters of wizarding bands that Minerva had never heard of, but some were various items of Gryffindor memorabilia. On his desk, photos lay strewn across the surface.
Minerva picked one up and smiled. It was a picture of Aidan, Minerva, Callum, and Lucy at Minerva's first Slug Club event. That's where Riddle would later brand her, but in the picture, the four of them were laughing happily. Callum had one arm around his sister and one around his future wife, and Aidan was waving with a mouthful of food.
"This feels like a lifetime ago," Minerva whispered into the air.
"I knew you'd be up here." Minerva whipped around to see Ro standing in the doorway. "Albus could tell you hadn't left the wards, and he asked me to check on you."
"Ah." Minerva nodded. "I felt a sudden desire to come up here. I never came back here, you know. After Aidan died, this place felt like a graveyard."
"Well, Aidan did die here, Min," Ro said in as gentle a voice as Minerva had ever heard her use. "Those feelings aren't irrational."
"I know," Minerva said heavily. "I still feel like I should have come back here earlier. Maybe with Dalton. Dalton could have seen his father's home. He could have seen"—she waved her hands in the air—"all of this."
"Oh, Min," Ro whispered. "Come here."
She held out her arms and clutched Minerva as she collapsed into her embrace.
"I hate this damn war, and I hate Tom Riddle," Minerva muttered. She felt herself start to cry, and she burrowed her head into Ro's shoulder. "Ro, I gave the lunatic the idea for a brand."
"You told Lord Voldy to start branding his followers?" Ro asked, disbelieving. "I doubt that."
"No, but I told Tom Riddle about this." Minerva stepped back and showed Ro the small but clear mark on her own left arm. "Riddle branded me with his own mark back in school. It hurts whenever he's near. He didn't do it intentionally, and I told him about it during the final task of the Tournament. Riddle would never have had the idea if I hadn't shown him what he could do."
"Minerva, you need to stop carrying blame around," Ro reprimanded. "Honestly, if we all had done things differently, life would be a whole lot different. It's not your fault Riddle was obsessed with you."
"Perhaps not initially, but there was one moment when I encouraged him. I kissed him," Minerva whispered, not wanting to admit it.
"You did what?" Ro shrieked. Despite the moment, she grinned. "Oh, Min, you need to tell me everything."
"It was during our sixth year. I was lonely and upset, and he was acting more humane than he normally did. We came across each other in the Prefect's bathroom, and, well, we kissed. It was nothing more than that, but I'm not entirely innocent."
"Min, we've all kissed people we wish we hadn't," Ro said, laughing. "It's unfortunate that your mistake turned out to be the greatest dark lord we've ever seen, but it's a common enough mistake for a teenager to make."
"But if he hadn't been so obsessed with me—if I hadn't let him think there was a chance—"
"Stop it right now with your ifs," Ro said firmly. "Honestly, Min. Flip the script, would you? Imagine you had encouraged Riddle. Imagine if you had dated him and then married the twerp, or bathed each other in each other's blood, or whatever it is dark lords do during their marriage ceremonies. Then you would be on the wrong side, and we would all be fighting against you. You would never have been a mother. You most certainly would not be a teacher. You would not have the same friends. Your life would be completely, irreconcilably different."
"You don't know that! I could have made him see reason—"
"Minerva, you need a reality check if you think you ever could have turned that man into a better person. If you two had gotten together, you would be Dark Lady Voldy of the British Isles, or some such thing. He would have turned you, not the other way around." Ro shook her head. "There's no saving someone like that. And you, my dear, dear friend, love with all of your heart. You would have followed him—at least in the beginning. But I can guarantee he never would have let you keep and raise a child, and Riddle would never, ever have agreed to let you be a teacher in the same school where Albus works and lives."
"You're not giving me a lot of agency in this hypothetical scenario," Minerva huffed.
"Maybe not, but he wouldn't have given you any," Ro retorted. "You know I'm right, Min. So leave it be. The world is as the world is, and the best we can do is give this fight everything we've got."
"I hate it when you're the rational one," Minerva muttered, a smile on her face.
"I'll chalk this up to a victory, then," Ro laughed. She sobered for a moment. "And Min? If you ever want to talk about Aidan specifically, you can come and talk to me and Poppy. Or Cal and Lucy. I can't imagine you want to talk to Albus about missing Aidan."
"I suppose I avoid the subject when possible," Minerva said. She added quickly, "Albus hasn't said anything, but it does feel a little uncomfortable. Thank you."
"I should have thought of this years ago when Dalton and Athena left," Ro replied, shaking her head. "Better late than never, I suppose."
"Look at this." Minerva collected the photograph she had been looking at and handed it to Ro. "Isn't this a great picture?"
Ro laughed. "I think you should take it and bring it home. Even if you don't want to keep it in the castle, perhaps Callum or Lucy would want it."
"I think that's a brilliant idea," Minerva agreed.
"Geez, no wonder your son was in Gryffindor," Ro said as she finally took a look around the room. "This room is red."
Minerva laughed as she hugged her friend a little more tightly.
