Chapter Ten: Dark Surprises

Remus did not sleep well that night. He dreamed of shadows and cloaked men with bloodied eyes. He dreamed of danger - and of James, standing alone, unarmed and unprepared, facing down the barrel of a wand. It was still dark when he got up, feeling unrested and unwell and, in the harsh lamp light of the dorm, he could see from the puffy eyes and pale skin of his friends that they had slept no better.

The Great Hall was noisy and bright when they reached it, and it jarred with their mood. The first of the light was just starting to stream through the windows, and the enchanted ceiling was changing from inky black to pale grey, though the North Star was still shining away, brilliantly visible. The Hall was - as always at this time of year - decorated for Christmas, the twelve trees decorated with shining golden bubbles and real life fairies, the branches of holly on the tables and the candlelight glinting off the golden plates. The tables were packed with students, chattering away, readying themselves for one last day of lessons before the train home the next morning.

Good cheer was in abundance and the four boys, still groggy and unsettled from a restless night, looked around uneasily. 'They have no idea, do they?' James said - looking around at where Lily was handing out Christmas cards to her Ravenclaw friends, and over to the Hufflepuff table, where Dominic Dickens and Erwin McNulty were loudly singing Christmas carols in high falsetto. Further down their own table, Petra was hurriedly trying to finish the last three inches of her Transfiguration essay.

'They have no idea who was here - what we saw… they just think it's a normal day.'

'I just wish I had slept better.' Sirius yawned widely, as if to punctuate his point. 'At least it's History of Magic first, I'll kip in the back of that.'

Remus stifled a yawn of his own, and frowned. He was every bit as tired as Sirius was, but he was not sure he wanted to sleep through the day as well - he was not convinced the dreams would not follow him…The last thing he wanted to do was wake up, sweaty and gasping in the back of the classroom, with the girls all staring at him.

Sitting next to him, Peter nodded off over his cup of tea - and began to snore.

The bell for first lesson rang, Peter awoke with a jolt and, still bleary eyed and woolly headed, the boys shouldered their bags and made their way up to their first lesson.

The History of Magic classroom was empty when they reached it, and they took their seats at the back of the room, got their books out and waited… Sirius put his head on the desk and closed his eyes. They waited a little bit longer …

Up at the front, Lily checked her watch. 'Do you think he's forgotten?' She whispered to Petra, 'he's never usually this late.'

Peter joined Sirius in a nap. Remus struggled to stifle his yawns. James took out a quill and started to use the feather to tickle the sleeping Sirius.

'Gerroff.'

'Wake up.'

'No.' He shoved James away, and snuggled back down into his textbook.

There was a popping sound - a few of the girls screamed, the boys looked up. 'Bollocks!' Sirius hissed. 'What happened to -'

And then: 'Alright, alright, class, settle down,' the desiccated voice of Binns wheezed around the classroom, as he materialised out of the blackboard and hovered six inches above his chair, pearly and translucent. 'Today we will be looking at the 1747 Battle of the Trolls, in which mountain dwelling trolls and forest dwelling trolls went to war over which had the biggest clubs … it all started in Snowdonia in the Autumn of 1746 when…'

The class just stared at him, wide eyed and more than a little in shock. Binns, however, did not seem to notice … And he continued to drone on about the violent club measuring contests of the 1740s, totally oblivious to the children, their surprise, or the fact that no one was listening or taking notes.

Eventually, he chanced to glance up - and caught sight of Lily sitting with her hand high in the air. He faltered to a stop and, as ever, looked confused to see students sitting in front of him. 'Yes, Miss - er -?'

'Evans,' she supplied. 'Professor Binns … what happened to you?'

'What on earth do you mean?'

'I - er - well, Professor… don't you know that you're - well … dead ?'

He frowned, the type of frown whereby the blackboard behind him was entirely visible through the back of his head. 'Dead? Don't be ridiculous, Miss Eversham - I am no such thing.'

'But sir -'

'Miss Etherington,' he snapped irritably, 'don't you think I - of all people - would know if I was…' he glanced down and caught sight of his ghostly self '...Oh.'

'I'm going to get Professor McGonagall,' she said loudly, getting to her feet and then running out of the classroom.

'Wait - don't leave us here with the - ' James called after her, but Sirius elbowed him and he went quiet and looked guilty. 'Sorry, sir.'

There came the hurried tapping of boots and then Big Macca, breathless and pale faced, appeared in the doorway, Lily right behind her (and her own fourth year Transfiguration class following on for good measure). When she saw Professor Binns hovering above his chair, she clutched at her heart and gave a strangled cry. 'Cuthbert! What happened to you?'

'Well, I don't know, Minerva - but it's a damned inconvenience … I can't pick up my papers,' and - as if to prove his point - he swiped an insubstantial hand right through the teetering pile of essays which sat on his desk. 'I suppose maybe a house elf could help me with my marking, if …'

'Cuthbert!'

He looked up in alarm, cut off from his musings. 'What?'

'Well… where are you? Where did … this happen?'

'I'm sure I don't remember, Minerva.'

'What is the last thing you remember?'

He frowned again, '... I don't… remember.'

'We need to find you - at once. Lily, girls, go to his office and check there. James - boys, the staffroom … Laila, Dahlia, Professor Binns sometimes liked a nightcap before bed - check the kitchens. Everyone else, I want you to spread out and search the whole castle. He could have - forgive me, Cuthbert - he could have dropped dead just about anywhere. I will alert the Headmaster.'

And after a moment's startled pause - the whole class scraped their chairs back, jumped to their feet and hurried off to begin their searching.

'Well, I must say the whole thing is a damned inconvenience…' they heard Binns mutter again to himself as they left.

…

The boys gathered nervously by the door to the staff room - for an ordinary looking door it suddenly seemed very forbidding. 'Do we just … go in?' James asked.

'Professor McGonagall told us we could.'

'But what if there's a teacher in there?' Peter wrung his hands together, 'what if Professor Binns is in there?'

'Well that's what we're checking for, Pete.' Sirius's voice was scornful, but he didn't push the door open and go inside.

'Come on, men,' James squared his shoulders. 'We just… need to - to steel ourselves. Er… Pete - you wanna go first?' But Peter only squeaked in fear.

Remus sighed. 'I'll do it…' he raised his fist and knocked on the door. 'Er - hello? Professor Binns?'

'He isn't going to answer, if he's in there, you idiot!' Sirius hissed at him.

'Right…' He waited a moment and then - when no other teacher came to the door - he pushed it open, and hesitantly stepped over the threshold. He felt his friends crowd in behind him, and then come to a dead stop.

Professor Binns - or at least his corporeal remains - was sitting in an armchair in front of the fire. He was (as they knew from having seen his ghost) quite dead. His skin had a grey pallor to it, his chin rested on his chest - which did not rise and fall - but other than that, he did not look any different to normal. He might have still been sleeping.

'Right - well then,' Remus said, swallowing nervously. 'There we have it. We should … we should tell Big Macca we've found him.'

…

The news was all over the school by lunchtime - that Professor Binns had died, so peacefully in his sleep, that he had not even noticed he was dead and had got up to teach, in the morning, leaving his body behind.

'He just popped straight through the blackboard,' Connie Bidwell of Hufflepuff (who had witnessed the whole thing) told Sandy Lewis of Ravenclaw (who had not, but wished that she had). 'And then those awful Gryffindor boys found him in the staff room - you know, the Black nutter and his mates.'

'Oh - those total arses - I don't know how Lily puts up with them…'

And they abandoned their discussion on Binns in order to indulge in some much more satisfying gossip about the boys.

And that seemed to be the way of it, over and over. The information would be passed on - an eye witness would tell their tale - the whole debacle exclaimed over … and then the conversation moved on. Binns' ghost was still hanging around, so nobody felt the need to mourn him - he was still right there - and he had been very old, so it was hardly surprising… It was a shame, just before the holidays, but it was widely agreed that he had had a good innings and that a peaceful death was always a blessing… and by the way, what are you hoping to get for Christmas?

'You think we'd at least have an assembly,' Remus said, looking around the hall at everyone getting on with their day.

'Bit weird with Binns still being here though, isn't it?' James said, shovelling a forkful of mash and peas into his mouth as he spoke. 'You can't really eulogise a bloke that's right there, listening in, can you? Bit awkward … Pass the salt.'

'You don't need to salt your potatoes … No, but - listen - call me crazy…'

'You're crazy,' Sirius said.

Remus gave him a dark look, 'but does no one else think it's a bit of a coincidence that - well - ' he lowered his voice, 'the Dark Lord himself comes to school, and that night a teacher dies?'

'If it was anyone other than Binns,' Sirius said. 'But he was about a hundred and fifty. People die.'

'Yes - because Lord Voldemort kills them. You saw him last night - he nearly killed James.'

'Didn't though, did he?' James said.

'Doesn't mean he didn't kill anybody else.'

'Oh come off it, Moony,' Sirius gave him an exasperated shove. '- Lord Voldemort's a total git, but he isn't going to commit murder right under Dumbledore's nose … and for what? How does it benefit him to kill little, old Professor Binns ?'

'I don't know … and that's what worries me.'

But the others just scoffed, and so Remus gave it up as a bad job and hoped that the rest of the day would prove to be more uneventful.

…

It turned out to be a forlorn hope. Transfiguration passed without upset (even if McGonagall still did look a little paler than usual) and - as normal - she kept them working, nose to the grindstone, right up until the bell. At the end of the lesson, they handed in the teapots that they were supposed to be turning into tortoises (only Sirius and James had managed to make much headway, and even theirs' still had a willow patterned shell) and gratefully filed out of the classroom and headed towards Defence Against the Dark Arts, which they hoped would prove to be less taxing and more festive than an end of term lesson with Big Macca.

But things were wrong from the moment they entered the Defence classroom and took their seats. Although Professor Tenebris was a very elderly witch, she was still normally spry and sprightly, her eyes always twinkled and she had a ready laugh… Today, however, she was sitting hunched over at her desk, looking as if she was in great pain. Her skin was the greyish colour of old parchment - and in the wintery light seemed almost as translucent as Professor Binns now was. There were dark circles under her eyes and her chest rattled with every breath - painful and difficult sounding, like she was struggling.

Nevertheless she attempted to give the class a weak approximation of her usually jaunty grin. 'Alright, folks - just one hour to go until the holidays start … I think we can make it.'

'Professor Tenebris, are you alright?' Lily said. 'You look …' she paused, as if finding a polite way to phrase it '... not well.'

'I'll be fine.' She took a deep breath and her chest rattled and wheezed again. 'I just woke up feeling sore and…' another wheeze, 'tired. A little short of breath. I think it's my bones telling me I'm ready for retirement… but like I said, one hour to go and then two weeks off…I'll be fit as a fiddle by -' she wheezed again, 'by January.'

It was a fun lesson - a very different affair to Transfiguration; they played Pin The Santa Hat on the Lethifold and Magical Musical Statues (where they had to cast a freezing charm on themselves every time The Kneazles' "Yuletide Joy Is Here Again" stopped, and anyone whose charm didn't take was out… though everyone gave Peter a wide berth, as he was not unknown to cause explosions when he attempted to freeze things).

They were just settling down to do a Dark Creatures Christmas Crossword, when Tenebris - who was busy taking the record off the gramophone - went very still. Her eyes became distant, the winter light shone in through the window, highlighting the dark smudges under her eyes and the deep lines of her face. Her breathing became even more pained, turning from a struggling wheeze to a ghastly death rattle.

'Professor - is everything O-'

But the question was never finished, as Professor Tenebris suddenly gave a faint cry, clutched at her heart and then keeled over, landing heavily on the floor in a dead faint.

Every chair scraped back, as the whole class jumped to their feet and dashed to the front of the classroom to see if she was alright.

'Stand back - we need to give her air!'

'Is she …?'

'No no - she's breathing.'

They all gathered round in a solemn circle, and looked at their fallen Defence teacher. Her skin was papery thin, her cheeks were hollow and there were deep, black shadows beneath her eyes. She was stiff and still. If it wasn't for the shallow rising and falling of her chest and that awful, laboured breathing, she could be dead.

…

Considering they were journeying home for Christmas, the carriage with James, Sirius and Peter in was unusually glum and sombre, as the train lurched its way through the British countryside. There had been snow on the ground for weeks up at Hogwarts, but the lower they went the warmer it got - and the more grey and drizzly the weather became. Raindrops pattered against the window panes and then dribbled downward, the glass was steamed up and the compartment felt very hot and closed in.

The day before, Lily had once again run for Professor McGonagall - who had sent for Madam Pomfrey - and Professor Tenebris had been taken to the Hospital Wing, still unconscious. They had not heard anything since.

'It all just feels a bit … much,' James said gloomily. 'Two in one day?'

'It feels like maybe Moony was right all along, and the place is cursed,' Sirius said. Peter squeaked in fear, in response, and received a dark glower for his pains. 'It is what it is - there's no point not saying it - we'd be as bad as Minister Jenkins, burying our heads in the sand, if we won't admit there's a pattern,' Sirius told him.

'Do you think Dumbledore knows?' James asked.

'Yes - but what can he do? - It's not like there's gonna be any proof. People have been disappearing for years now, and nothing's been done, Voldemort cannibalised people and nothing was done… Who's going to pay attention to two very elderly teachers dying or falling sick on the same day? He's chosen victims that no one will question - that hide the truth, the way he tried to hide the truth of those murders last year by blaming the werewolves.'

'But - but he's gone from Hogwarts now, so nothing else will happen,' Peter said, almost hopefully.

'That's not much comfort to Professor Tenebris.' And, with another glower, Sirius shook out his newspaper and opened it up - ready to hide behind the crossword for a couple of hours. Instead - he came face to face with the headline:

Mea Pugna

The Writings of Lord Voldemort

…

Remus had used the fireplace in Big Macca's office to floo home for the Christmas hols. He tumbled out of the grate, back home (feeling as always that pull of sadness in his chest that his mum was not there to greet him with a hug) and landed on the hearth. Lyall helped him to his feet and dusted him down.

'You're still getting taller.'

'It's an unfortunate side effect of growing up.'

He was pulled into a warm hug ('gerroff - you'll mess up my hair!') and then Lyall bustled off to make them both a cup of tea. Remus glanced around the living room; it was already decorated for Christmas, paper streamers festooned the ceiling and a large tree sat in the corner, presents piled beneath it and its baubles glinting cosily in the firelight.

The newspaper lay open on the sofa, and he picked it up to take a look.

'You - er - you probably don't want to read what's in there today,' Lyall said, lightly, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a mug of tea in each hand.

Curious, Remus looked through it anyway … and then wished that he had listened to his father.

My name is Lord Voldemort, though few of you will have heard it.

He read.

In my veins runs the blood of the noblest of origins, the most ancient of magical heritages. I have, in my almost 48 years on this earth, travelled farther, delved deeper and searched harder than any wizard alive to understand the deepest secrets magic has to offer, and to extend the limits of my own powers. I have seen things others cannot imagine, learned things others cannot even dream of. I am - though I do not wish to be boastful - extraordinary in all I have accomplished … And yet, for this, my name is spoken only in hushed whispers and I am dubbed "The Dark Lord" by those who fear what I have to share .

As if power - and the search for it - is innately dark. As if knowledge of hitherto unknown forces is something which must automatically be met with mistrust. Alas, I become the victim of lesser men's lies and vicious slanders, my reputation tarnished by tawdry gossip. I am spoken of as a renegade; an instigator of dangerous actions; a purveyor of dangerous thoughts who seeks to sow division and create upheaval and instability in our happy, little world.

When the truth is, I am the polar opposite of what they say. For it is not myself who has brought about radical changes in laws and traditions; it is not myself who seeks further changes, further rights for those new to our world and with little understanding of it, or further integration with the muggles. If you have noticed, these past few years, a loss of security, or status, a creeping impingement of the muggle world on our own, that your pay no longer goes as far as it used to, that your vault at Gringotts is not as a full as it should be and that your children are enticed away by vulgar influences, then it is the policies and recent measures of your own government which has made your lives so much the poorer.

Many lies have been spoken about me. Many untruths spread. And here - today - I wish to lay it out before you who I am and what I stand for, so you can decide for yourselves, who to believe, and who has your best interests at heart.

To put it simply, I stand for magic. I stand for the belief that we, of this world, have been granted a gift - a gift which elevates us above muggles - and that we should not hide from acknowledging our superiority. I believe that - for too long - we have hidden, like rats in the shadows, and allowed those of lesser power to run roughshod over the planet, to form it in their own inferior image while we, who should be as kings, find ourselves marginalised.

I stand for the belief that it is our duty to never take our precious gift of magic for granted, but that we should extend the limits of our power as far as possible; that we should not be held back by those too fearful to learn by words like "dark magic". There is no "dark magic", there is just magic - in all its glory - and those strong enough to use it to its full extent and those too weak to do so.

I stand for the belief that we can have a world where our gifts are recognised, that we can return to a world where your own, gifted children need not hide what they are, need not hide their gifts from those envious of, and lesser than them. We were forced into hiding and it is time to say "No More".

I stand for our own ways and our own traditions - that they be allowed to stand, allowed to work as they are supposed to, that they not be subverted in the name of "progress" and where your children's birthright is waiting for them, when they come of age; not given away, squandered and shared among the undeserving so that yours are left only with the crumbs.

There is no need to fear the future I stand for, for it is a future steeped in the past - which preserves and protects all we have held dear.

And yet there are those who fear me. Those wedded to the notion of change. Those who wish to keep us on the sidelines, eking out whatever meagre existence we can salvage from the wreckage of what the muggles leave behind. Those who wish for closer union with muggles, and a broader church within our own world - who seek to divide and weaken our own community by embracing a more egalitarian mixing with that other world. Those who would happily have your children mate with muggles, and put away their wands for good.

These are the people who fear me and my Knights. And rest assured - some of these people hold a great deal of power, whether in the Ministry itself or within our great learning institutions.

I am but one, humble man seeking to create a better world for your children and for us all - and in return for my efforts, those with far greater political power than I smear my name, spread scurrilous lies and mendacious falsehoods. They call me - and my magic - "dark" and attempt to spread their own fear to those whom they hold sway over. They seek to isolate me, brand me a renegade and cast me out - and deem my learning "unworthy". This is my struggle - to be recognised, to stand up to the slander and - in the face of monstrous prejudice - to bring about a better world. And, if you are of a mind that magic should be explored, celebrated and stretched to its limits, if you are of a mind that our children deserve a stable future, if you are of a mind that your family deserve security and prosperity, then it is a struggle in which I invite you to join me.

…

Down in the Slytherin common room, Severus finished reading Lord Voldemort's manifesto; he leaned back in his armchair and closed his eyes while he thought about it. It perhaps did not go far enough, he decided, not as far as he would have liked. There was no real mention of restrictions on mudbloods, or what they would be - nor was it clear exactly what the Dark Lord had in mind for the future with the muggle world. The rally, back in the summer, had demanded an end to the Statute of Secrecy - and that sentiment seemed to be echoed here, with the talk of coming out of hiding …but the Dark Lord had not clearly spelled out what happened next. And Severus was a little disappointed by that. He wanted to know. Most of all, he wanted to know what would become of his father in this exciting new world order - and the lack of clarification irked him.

But there was still a lot in there that he did like. He liked the thought of his birthright being preserved, of there being a place for him in the world which was reserved for him by right of his heritage - and not given away to those of lesser blood. Growing up in near poverty in the muggle world, the thought of prosperity in the magic one was a very pleasing thought indeed.

But most of all he liked what the Dark Lord had to say about the search for knowledge, and stretching the potential of magic to its very limits. And, as he sat before the fire with his eyes closed, it was this which he thought about most keenly; imagining himself at the Dark Lord's side, honing his powers, creating new forms of magic, new spells, finding new ways to test the limits of all that wizardkind could do and changing the face of their world forever.

He spent much of the rest of the holidays in the library, looking up books on spellcraft and researching how new hexes were invented, how incantations and wand movements could be worked out by trial and error, hoping that one day he could prove useful to the Dark Lord, himself. And it seemed that he was not the only one who hoped to learn at the feet of this new leader, or who liked what he had to say in the paper - for it was only a few days after "Mea Pugna" was published that the Daily Prophet headline declared:

Innumerable Neophytes for the Knights!

The Knights of Walpurgis inundated with new recruits after the mysterious "Lord Voldemort" publishes his long awaited manifesto…

…

Despite it being Christmas Eve, Lily sat at her kitchen table and did her Ancient Runes homework by candlelight. She was not using candles because she wished to be reminded of school, or for festive cheer, however, but because there had been a power cut - another one - and her whole street had been plunged into darkness. Her family sat together in the living room, playing Gin Rummy now the telly had gone off, and (though she was loath to admit it) Lily was avoiding them.

She had arrived home for the hols to find that life in Cokeworth had become even more strained than before. After she had finished telling her mum all her news from the latest term, her mum had smiled a tight lipped smile and then said in a voice that was just a bit too casual: 'we've had a bit of excitement here too. You know Avril from down the road - Avril and Dennis? Well … they won the Littlewoods Pools in October.'

'That's nice,' Lily had said.

The smile had become a little tighter. '£50 000.'

'Wow!'

'They've bought a big house near Birmingham. Dennis has given up work. They're going to start a donkey sanctuary.'

'That's… really good.'

And then her mum had nudged the Pools fixtures across the table towards Lily, with all the football matches for the next week listed. 'What's this?' Lily had asked.

'You know what it is - it's the betting slip - for the Treble Chance…Lily, Lils, sweetheart …is there any way you could - maybe - magic us a win? Could you predict the scores or - or fix the games somehow?'

'Mum! That would be cheating !'

And then all pretence at a smile had vanished. 'Well God knows we need something! You don't know what it's like - you're not here. We were barely scraping by as it was, and now they're bringing in the three day week. The mill isn't allowed to be open for longer than that - not even for the office staff.'

'But why -?'

'Fuel shortages!' Mrs. Evans had burst out. 'Starting in January, businesses can't use electricity for more than three days a week due to fuel shortages - which means the mill can't open. We can hardly heat our homes, the power is off more often than its on, we scrape down the back of the sofa cushions every time we want a pint of milk … We can't survive if your dad goes down to three days, but there's no choice! If things go on like this, then Tuney won't be able to go to secretarial college when she finishes school - we won't be able to afford it. She'll have to get whatever job will take her - in a shop, or cleaning at the mill. And that will be it for her - no escaping Cokeworth, no better life - while you …' She had faltered to a stop. 'But if you could just…' Her voice had become more pleading and she had tried to smile again, 'find a way to fix things for us. Sometimes it feels like all we need is for someone to wave a magic wand and our problems will go away… and, Lils, you have a magic wand! '

'But I can't win us the Pools! I can't keep the mill open. Even if it wasn't against the rules, I just don't know how - I don't have that sort of power… Mum…' her mum's lower lip had gone all wobbly and she looked like she was about to cry. 'Please don't. I'm sorry. But magic isn't - it's not an instant fix to all our problems. That isn't what it does.'

'Then what exactly is the point of it?' her mother had asked, and Lily had not known the answer. And since then she had been avoiding her family as much as she could, while her chest ached at the thought of them stuck here in the dark, barely scraping by, while she was at Hogwarts, eating off golden plates, and of Tuney finishing school and going to be a cleaner and never getting away because there was no money for her to try for a better life.

It made her feel guilty that she was looking forward to returning to school simply so she could pretend none of this was happening; that, much like Sev did, she was now thinking of Hogwarts as an escape from Cokeworth … from her family. But then she remembered the "mudblood out" graffiti, and what had happened to Mrs. Norris, and she knew it was not all plain sailing at Hogwarts either. Dark days had settled on the magical world, just as much as they had settled on the muggle one - and she couldn't explain any of this to her family as they just wouldn't understand. She had never felt quite so alone in her own home as she did this Christmas and, as the flame of her candle flickered and guttered, casting dark shadows across her homework, she rather gloomily reflected that perhaps this "Lord Voldemort" did not have it completely wrong when he said that muggleborns walked in both worlds but belonged in neither.

…

Remus had a quiet Christmas, as usual. He and his father had a big turkey dinner, and a flaming Christmas pudding, and they pulled muggle Christmas crackers and wore the paper crowns that Hope had been so fond of. They listened to the Minister's Speech on the Wizarding Wireless Network on Christmas Day, and played Gobstones and Wizard's Chess and read books ( Terror and Tight Spaces: A Retrospective on the Study of Boggarts for Lyall, and The Origins of Ogres by Shreklow Shanks for Remus).

Remus was quite pleased with his present haul, though it wasn't large. Along with his new book he had got a new jumper, a new cloak (the one he had bought in first year was too small now - and even back then it had been old and patched and faded; this one was barely second hand and still the right colour) some peanut brittle, a few fresh rolls of film for his camera and a Bonsai "grow your own Wiggentree" kit.

His friends had got him some presents as well. Peter had drawn him an enchanted sketch of the photo Remus had taken of him and James at Three Broomsticks (though he had added Remus and Sirius to the picture as well, and a very curvy Madam Rosmerta was just visible pulling pints in the background) along with a bag of fizzing whizzbees. James had bought him a pair of Hex Deflector Gloves from Zonkos ( "I reckon they've only got one good hex dodge in them," James had written, "so make sure you use them on Snivellus") and Sirius had bought him a novelty Holyhead Harpies Hat and a bar of Honeydukes Double Fudge and Cream chocolate (which was - as coincidence would have it - the exact same present Remus had bought for Sirius).

Mrs. Potter had also sent him a package containing a newly knitted jumper (so now he had two) and a tin of mince pies.

The days passed quietly but happily enough, the two of them enjoying each other's company and pretending to each other that they did not miss Hope so much that their chests hurt… And the whole time they tried to ignore the stories of gathering darkness, and fresh recruits for Voldemort, being printed in the paper.

…

Christmas was much less quiet at James' house, but then life was always much less quiet when James was around… he was a very exuberant sort of personality and chaos followed in his wake, even when he was on his best behaviour (which he never had to be at home).

On Christmas Eve, Mr. Potter had performed a tricky charm, which caused a localised snowstorm over the grounds of their home - and James and Sirius had spent the day in a fierce snowball fight, stopping only to build Snow-Snapes and pelting them with snowballs instead.

That evening they had eaten home baked mince pies and drunk mulled wine while Mrs. Potter played the piano and they all sang Christmas Carols ("Oh Come All Ye Flobberworms", and "God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs" ). And the next morning they had opened piles of presents under the towering, twinkling Christmas tree.

As usual, James had a massive haul: new robes, new quidditch gear, more sweets than any one man could eat (and yet somehow James would manage it) books that would go unread, potions kits, Dr. Filibuster Fireworks and a pair of slippers which were enchanted to keep the wearer's footsteps silent and leave no footprints behind. ('All the better for you sneaking around under my invisibility cloak,' Mr. Potter said to him, while Mrs. Potter tried to look disapproving, and failed).

But Sirius, who had expected nothing and was just glad to be in a house where they didn't lock him in his bedroom, was overwhelmed to be given a pile of presents almost as big - and thoughtfully chosen to be things he would actually like. He received a toaster manual, a plug which needed rewiring, an artistic black and white photograph of a very handsome, very moody looking young muggle wearing a leather jacket and sitting on a motorbike, a self inking quill and a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, as well as a home knitted jumper and a tin of home made fudge. He also got presents from Peter and Remus - the long awaited drawing of a flying motorbike (which he deemed well worth the wait) and a Holyhead Harpies hat which he wore all day, even declining to swap it when he got a large, purple turban in his wizarding cracker.

As the night drew in, and the fire blazed merrily and everyone felt very content and very full, Mr. Potter brought out one final surprise for the boys - a matching pair of apricot coloured puffskeins. They were about the size of a small football, round, very fluffy and they hummed constantly. 'Now you boys are taking Care Of Magical Creatures, I thought it might be good if you got some daily practice,' he told them. 'They're both boys - so we don't need to worry about babies. But you'll need to keep them warm, and remember to feed them.'

'We're not idiots, dad,' James said, snuggling his. He called his puffskein FLP (short for "Furry Little Problem") and Sirius called his "John" (just because he liked the name).

As Sirius was falling asleep that night, with John humming away on his pillow, he was rudely jolted back awake by James clambering onto the bed with him. ' Psst! Are you awake?'

'I wasn't. '

'Shove over. I couldn't give you this downstairs - in front of my parents. I got one for Pete as well.' He held out a small box - a bit like the type of box a piece of jewellery might come in.

Sirius took it and carefully opened the lid, and then his nose crinkled in disgust as he saw something about an inch long and brown, which looked like something halfway between a dead leaf and a slug. 'You shouldn't have.'

'Don't be soft! It's a Death Head Hawk Moth's chrysalis. I snuck them onto the end of my dad's monthly Potions ingredients order. He didn't even notice. It's one of the things we need.'

'For what?'

'To become animagi!'

And Sirius started to grin.

His time at the Potters had been a wonderful break from reality, and he felt safe and hidden away from the world, until they went to watch the Falmouth Falcons play on boxing day (Sirius still resolutely in his Harpies hat). And then real life came crashing back in. For - although the match was a thrilling one - both the boys and Mr. Potter were dispirited to see that many of the crowd sported a coiled serpent - the symbol of the Knights of Walpurgis - emblazoned on their breast pockets, and there were "mudbloods out" banners being waved, where usually there were only team flags and scarves.

…

There was a sense of expectation in the drawing room of number 12 Grimmauld Place, as the clock ticked ever closer to midnight on New Year's Eve; an anticipatory air of celebration - of triumphs yet to come - which made the atmosphere seem to crackle. Regulus, dressed in his finest velvet dress robes, with lace around the collar, did his best to blend in among his parents' guests and surreptitiously listen in to all they had to say.

There were some of the leaders of the Knights of Walpurgis here - along with his cousin Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy, wearing their youth wing robes - and the Dark Lord's manifesto and their sudden influx of new recruits was the news on everybody's lips, and Regulus wished to learn as much as he could.

'Of course, they won't be part of the inner circle,' he overheard Mulciber's father saying to his own. 'That remains a tight knit group which only the purest of blood can join. But these neophytes…they swell our numbers, give us standing in the sight of the Ministry.'

'Useful idiots,' Orion suggested - and they both laughed.

A tray laden with champagne flutes floated past, Regulus watched it. If his no-good, blood traitor brother was here, he would be swiping champagne and going off to get tipsy behind the curtains - making a spectacle of himself and embarrassing mother (as if his very existence was not a perpetual embarrassment for the whole family). Fortunately, Sirius was off with some of his fellow muggle loving friends - and Regulus knew how to behave in polite society, so he was sticking to the pumpkin juice Kreacher had given him - he remained sober, his head was clear, and this was all the better for eavesdropping .

He took a sip, and his eyes fell back on Bellatrix and her husband. They were in the inner circle, as Mr. Mulciber had called it. They spoke with the Dark Lord himself, were some of his earliest followers. And though, by virtue of his tender age, Regulus would never be an original acolyte of Lord Voldemort, he would still one day be in that inner circle too - he was sure of it. No one had better blood than the Blacks, and he would be welcomed with open arms as soon as he was old enough. He could not wait for that day…

The music from the string quartet came to an end - and Walburga tapped her champagne glass with her wand. 'One minute to midnight,' she announced.

The hushed conversations came to stop, the air became thicker - and everyone joined in the countdown. 'Ten…nine…' Regulus took another sip of pumpkin juice. 'Five … four…' He held his breath. 'Two…one… Happy New Year!' Everyone cried, before linking arms and joining in a chorus of "Auld Lang Syne".

When they were finished, Septimus Selwyn raised a toast. 'To 1974, may this be the year of the Dark Lord - and his most faithful followers. May this year be the one which ushers in the world we have been waiting for, and may all in this room - every last one of us - play our part in bringing this glorious vision into being.'

'To the Dark Lord!' Mr. Mulciber toasted.

'To the Knights of Walpurgis!' Rodolphus Lestrange raised his own toast.

'To the useful idiots,' Orion finished up - and everyone, including Regulus, started to laugh.

…

It was with no small relief that Lily arrived back in Gryffindor common room, once the hols were over. The grey drizzle of the midlands was replaced with the crisp, white snow which still lay in thick blankets on the ground, the fuel shortages and power cuts were replaced with roaring log fires and thousands of candles, and she was back among people who actually understood her (it was unfortunate that one of those people happened to be Potter … but even magic school had to come with the occasional downside).

Speaking of, he and his awful friends were sitting in the best armchairs, by the fire, showing off their Christmas presents to each other. Lily had no such time to do anything like that, however. The next issue of Sabrina13 was due out in a couple of days time and, though she and her friends had done a lot of prep before the holidays, they still had a lot of work to do before they went to print.

The four of them took over one of the larger tables, close to the wireless, and spread out their scribbled notes, pictures and finished articles, trying to compile the chaos into some kind of seamless whole.

As the evening drew in, they switched the wireless on and the sounds of the Wiz Hits Top 40 drifted through the common room.

'And have we got a special New Year's treat for you'

Joel Stedmonds, the wizarding DJ, told the listeners.

'We only have a brand new song by the one, the only - The Kneazles! And - even better than that, wizards and witches, boys and girls, we've only gone and got Bobby Darrow and Roger Smith to come on the show and talk to you about it!'

Lily squealed, dropped her quill and immediately abandoned her work on Dear Dianella to listen in. Mary, the Roger fan, was just as - if not more - excited (Roger, as the bassist, did less publicity than Bobby - so hearing him talk was a far rarer treat.)

'Thanks for having us on again, Joel,'

Roger said, as the two girls clutched at each other and tried not to scream.

'It means a lot to us.'

'Yeah - we might just be "vulgar influences" trying to entice your children away,'

Bobby said. Lily gasped, and her eyes went wide.

'But it means a lot to us that you let us come on here and lay it out for you who we are and what we stand for. To put it simply, we stand for music. We stand for kids having fun - and we stand for good, old fashioned, muggle Rock and Roll!'

Lily stared at the wireless, caught somewhere between horror and hilarity as Bobby Darrow publicly poked fun at the Dark Lord's manifesto.

'This is our struggle,'

Roger said, sounding very serious.

'And if you have ever found yourself with the desire to groove to some funky tunes, then it is a struggle in which we invite you to join us … starting with our new song "Hey, Merlin!".'

A piano started up, and Bobby began to sing:

Merlin, Don't feel bad,

Take a nasty hex- and make it better

Remember to learn your counter jinxes

Then you can start - to make it better

Merlin, Don't be scared

You were born - to learn all this magic

From the moment you wave your first magic wand

Then you are strong - you can make it better…

The song was slower than all their previous ones, and went on for longer - and, by the time they reached the end, half the common room was swaying slowly in time to the refrain. And when it finished, where there was usually whooping and applause, following the debut of a new song, everyone stayed quiet and thoughtful. Bobby started to talk again:

'I know we've had a bit of a laugh today, poking fun at Lord Voldemort…'

'Or "Mortal Love Rodd" as we like to call him.'

Roger added. Bobby laughed.

'I've told you, Rodge, there's no "a" in Lord Voldemort - it's an imprecise anagram. But - yeah - we laugh at what he has to say, and his rather silly name, but the truth is …there are some pretty ugly things being said in our world right now. This new song of ours, it's all about standing up for what's right, believing in yourself and making things better - and that's what we need people to do. We're all magic, we all share this world, it doesn't matter where we have come from. And more than being all magic - we're all human - muggle and wizards. The music we play, it's muggle music - it's muggle magic. It brings people together - and that's what we want to do. Bring people together, regardless of blood status - and to use the magic of music to heal the divides, to make everything better…'

…

But, although his words went down a treat in the Gryffindor common room, it seemed, the next day, like Bobby might as well have wished for the moon on a stick, for "mudblood out" graffiti was still being daubed on walls; Connie Bidwell of Hufflepuff was pushed down the stairs by an unseen assailant, and Lily and Severus ended up having yet another argument in their Potions lesson...