Preservation: A Year of Prophecy

Warning: The wizarding war will reach its climax in this chapter, and the number of character deaths will peak similarly. Canon deaths and originals, young and old, no character is guaranteed to reach the epilogue. But even in the darkest of chapters, there can be found moments of hope and joy, and things may not always be as bleak as they might appear. Enjoy.

The days and weeks following Sirius's death passed in a haze of shock and grief for those who had known him. The Order of the Phoenix mourned the loss of their friend, their comrade, their brother, and struggled to understand the twisting series of events that had led to the pain of their current circumstances. For over a month most had believed Sirius's pretense of treason, and had barely accepted that betrayal before being hit with his true loyalty and martyrdom all in one terrible blow. Combined with the unmasking of Peter Pettigrew as the real traitor in their midst, it was far too much, too soon. Over the course of six months nearly half a dozen of the younger Order members had been removed from the fight in one way or another, losses piling atop one another, almost too much to be borne. Fabian and Sirius, fallen in battle, to be remembered and mourned as heroes. Peter, cut down as a traitor, his faithlessness more painful than his death; he would not be mourned by the two surviving Marauders, though they could never entirely forget the years of friendship they had once shared before his betrayal. Alice and Frank, sent into hiding, bearing a desperate hope for a better future but sorely missed in the present fighting.

Fabian had been dead barely four months before Sirius was buried beside him. Fate had denied the two young lovers the long lives they had hoped to spend together, but in death they would be united for eternity. It was all James could think about at the funeral; one freshly dug grave beside one still not fully settled or covered by grass. He wasn't the only one. It seemed like only yesterday that the Order had gathered to mourn Fabian, and now here they were, back again for another funeral, the cruelest kind of deja vu. Molly and Arthur Weasley and Gideon Prewett, who would have been, should have been, Sirius's in-laws. Diana and Alazandra, this time uninjured physically, but making no attempt to hide their grief and anger at the senseless loss of another student turned friend. The Lupins were there again too, Severus and Lily keeping back a little while Remus joined James at the graveside. The former Hufflepuffs had never had much reason to call Sirius a friend, though several years of fighting side by side in a war could overcome quite a bit of childhood animosity and schoolyard rivalry. It would be a long time before Severus could forget the sight of Sirius's mangled body on the floor of Potter Manor, forget the helplessness of knowing that there was nothing he could do to save him, the pain of knowing that he would be equally helpless if it was his own loved one dying in front of him. For Remus the pain was even sharper, the grief brought about by years of love and brotherhood, regardless of the strife that had also passed between him and Sirius. He had never fully repaired their old friendship, that deepest trust that had been shattered years ago, but found that his sorrow was as great as if they had never grown apart. After all, grief has never been known for its logic.

The pain of terrible familiarity was only heightened by the differences, the people who should have been at the funeral but were not. There had been no expectation that any of the Black family would attend, given the circumstances of Sirius's death, not to mention the years of conflict and hatred that lay between them; James had not bothered even to inform or invite them. But the absence of any of Sirius's blood family was still telling, in its own way. James was glad, almost, that his own parents had not lived to see this day; they would not have to feel the pain of burying the young man who had become their second son. James tried to push aside the thought that naturally followed that one; the Potters would not be around to grieve either of their boys, if and when James himself might fall in battle. The absence of Alice and Frank was perhaps the most conspicuous. The Auror couple had been the glue holding together all the younger Order members when they first joined up, helping to welcome them when they were the newest recruits and binding them together with the ones who had come before them. Frank had been Sirius's mentor when he began his Auror training; Alice had given Fabian the final push to ask Sirius out on their first real date. Painful as it sometimes was, the needs of the living had to come before those of the dead, and Dumbledore had forbidden the Longbottoms' request to attend the funeral despite Alice's tearful pleas. Their son would not be born for almost two more months, but it was unclear whether they would be able even then to leave the cottage that was beginning to feel as much a prison as a sanctuary.

But even in the darkest of times sparks of hope could be found, reminders of why they were fighting, who they were fighting for. Each time Mary went to an Order meeting with her increasingly obvious pregnant belly, each time Gideon passed around photographs of his littlest nephew Ian or the rest of his sister's children, each moment of joy planted another seed of hope and defiance. The long anticipated arrival of Neville Longbottom was another such seed, a child born at the end of July to parents who had set aside their own active resistance against the Dark to nurture what Albus Dumbledore believed could be the salvation of their world, though to most he was simply a reminder that life goes on even in the darkest of times. They dared not go to St. Mungo's for the birth; though there was little concrete reason to expect trouble there, an overabundance of caution felt prudent under the circumstances. The baby instead was delivered in the hidden cottage, attended by his very anxious father and the closest thing to midwives that the Order of the Phoenix had to offer. Severus and Lily, though technically not fully certified as Healers, had all the skills and training required for the situation, and the birth went as smoothly as could be desired. Both trainee Healers considered their first delivery a job very well done, though they managed to hold off on their self-congratulations until they returned home to Remus. In all fairness, their pride was well deserved. The mother and baby were both well, the father wasn't too traumatized by the experience, and Lily even managed to hold off Augusta Longbottom until Alice felt ready enough to see her, a minor miracle of its own. The new parents claimed that this service had nothing to do with Lily being named godmother to baby Neville, though neither she nor Severus fully believed it. The whole Order rejoiced when they heard the news, though none but Dumbledore had any deeper reasoning than the simple joy of new life in a time so full of death and despair.

The Longbottoms, now a little family of three, remained in hiding as summer turned to fall, while Dumbledore's thoughts of prophecy and fate remained a secret from the rest of his Order. But there were other secrets which the Headmaster did not hold back, mysteries that he knew would take more than a single mind to untangle. Just before Sirius's death the young man had stumbled upon an object that would prove crucial to defeating Lord Voldemort, if only its importance could be deciphered. The true significance of the golden locket with its glittering green "S" would not be identified until after Sirius was dead and buried, but it was his actions that set the Order on its newest path towards the Dark Lord's destruction. In truth it had been just a whim that led Sirius to the horcrux, an attempt to relieve boredom while trapped in his parents' home. Forced to play a role he hated in a place he loathed, with no one but his mother and the family house elf for company, Sirius had wandered the halls of Grimmauld Place in search of entertainment or mischief. It had been an act of spite against the only person he could risk antagonizing, stealing away one of Kreacher's few remembrances of favored "Young Master Regulus" when he came upon the elf attempting to destroy it. Hindsight and history would paint the act in a more heroic light, of course, and not without reason, for the consequences were pure and good in a way that the action was not. With only a glimmer of an idea that it might hold importance, Sirius had sent the locket to James. He in turn passed it along to Albus Dumbledore, only days before Sirius escaped Lestrange Manor to die in his best friend's arms.

It was only when the Headmaster returned to his study of the locket in the months after the funeral, suspecting that it was a horcrux but unsure how to open or destroy it, that he first considered letting others into the secret. It was a calculated move, as so many of Albus Dumbledore's decisions were. It was intended not only to further the research on the horcrux but to bring together an Order grappling with betrayals real and assumed, to give something tangible to work towards, to show that the Headmaster still needed and trusted his remaining troops. Much of the Order's focus remained on their preexisting goals, countering Death Eater raids, offering protection and escape routes to muggleborns and their families, and other such tasks, not to mention the work that each member had in their day-to-day careers. But they had a new goal too, and Order meetings were now used also for brainstorming how to destroy horcruxes and how to determine if there were any more of them. It was at the end of yet another extensive discussion on horcrux destruction methods that Dumbledore let slip that horrifying thought, softly musing that Voldemort was the type who might consider more to be better, safer. Lily, taking notes for herself halfway down the table, splattered ink across the page in surprise. She wasn't certain the Headmaster had meant anyone to hear him, but from the sudden silence around the table (save for the shattering of Marlene McKinnon's dropped teacup) it was clear that everyone had. To the Order, for whom the idea of even a single horcrux had seemed abhorrent, the possibility of a multitude was even more horrifying. But for a monster who had no qualms with any number of terrible acts, even the most vile plans had to be considered.

Indeed, it was a determination to avoid becoming so monstrous themselves which stalled many a proposal on how to handle the horcrux or horcruxes. What little information was available on the subject indicated that it would take the Darkest of magics to destroy a horcrux, things which even a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore would not trifle with lightly. It was Severus who came up with the first seeds of another path forward, reminded by the arrival of a patronus messenger of the usual purpose of that charm. If patronuses, the embodiment of light and love and goodness, could act as guardians against dementors, creatures of darkness and despair, perhaps horcruxes too could be defeated through good rather than evil. It would take long months to determine how to put such an idea into practice, to figure out how to heal away a horcrux, so to speak, rather than destroying it outright, but all agreed that it was a step in a rather more palatable direction. A new hope sparking to life, that their task might prove not only doable, but solvable without the ruin of any additional souls.

Even the Headmaster's increasing certainty that the locket (which he believed had belonged to Salazar Slytherin) could only be opened by parseltongue was proven to be less of a roadblock than he had anticipated. Though the only parselmouth of Dumbledore's acquaintance was Voldemort himself, it was not only human parselmouths that could speak the language of snakes, as Alazandra quietly reminded him one evening. Waiting until all the Auror members of the Order were conveniently out of earshot, but seeming not to care that Severus and Remus were both lingering close enough to hear, Alazandra revealed that she was a snake animagus. An unregistered Brazilian rainbow boa animagus, to be exact, able to speak parseltongue while in her animal form. She would be able to open the locket when the time was right, when a way was found to destroy it. That task, which had been left primarily in the capable but apprehensive hands of Severus Prince, would occupy much of the Healer's time during the fall and winter months.

It would prove to be an eventful time, those final months of 1980, filled with occasions of both sorrow and joy for members of the Order, and for the wizarding world as a whole. Sirius's funeral was barely behind them and the horcrux discussions were just beginning, when Mary Potter announced her withdrawal from the Order's front lines as the end of her pregnancy approached. She was unable to shake a feeling that she was abandoning her friends and continued to play a role from the safety of headquarters in Godric's Hollow long after her husband might have wished, but she would not risk the life of her child to add a single wand to a fight where one witch could hardly make a difference. It was for James's sake too, as much as for her own or the baby's. He had already lost too much too quickly, and Mary feared what he might be driven to do if he lost her and the child as well. On Halloween night, almost exactly three months after the birth of Neville Longbottom, Sirius Harry Potter was born. The little boy, immediately nicknamed "Siri" by his father, had long been intended as the godson of Sirius Black; he had instead become his namesake. It was a bittersweet moment, the joy of new life juxtaposed painfully against so much recent death. James kept half expecting to see Sirius walking into the nursery to visit the baby, kept wishing that he had gotten the chance to see his best friend and his son together. But life had to move on, and the delight and wonder that the new parents gained from their little Siri was a help in moving forward. They could never forget about their friend, but in their son they found another reason to keep going, a source of joy and hope not only for themselves but for their friends as well.

The news of Siri Potter's arrival was well received by the rest of the Order; good tidings were hard to come by, and most would take any glimmer of happiness they could. For Remus, bad news came only days after the birth, carried on the tired wings of his parents' elderly owl. His mother, never in the best of health despite the efforts of modern wizarding medicine, had fallen suddenly ill. By the time Mr. Lupin thought to send for their only son, it was far too late, and she died before Remus could say goodbye. Mrs. Lupin had always had a frail and sickly disposition, and life had not been kind to her or her family. The added stresses and worries over an intensifying war and a son who had become a vigilante with the Dark Lord's own target on his back had hardly helped matters, and her health had been in decline for some time. Her death wasn't exactly a shock, but it was devastating nonetheless. Less surprisingly, the death of Mrs. Lupin signaled the end of any attempt at a relationship between her husband and their son, costing Remus both his parents in one fell swoop. Mr. Lupin's feelings towards his son had been mixed, to put it lightly, since Remus's transformation into a werewolf as a child. He now blamed his son for the death of his wife, claiming it was Remus's reckless behavior that cost Mrs. Lupin her health and ultimately her life. Remus willfully ignored his father's dropped hints that he should not bother coming to the funeral, showing up at the cemetery with Lily and Severus in tow. Despite Lily's best efforts to keep the peace, the ceremony was followed by a graveside argument between father and son that escalated to a brawl before they regained their senses and stalked apart with a few last shouted insults from Mr. Lupin. It would be many more years before the elder Lupin died, but Remus would never again see the man as long as he lived.

Remus later claimed to regret the single punch that he had landed on his father, though Severus suspected he was more regretful of the time and place than the action itself. Severus would have loved a chance to punch his own father in the face and found watching Remus fulfill that fantasy to be quite satisfying, though he was careful not to mention it where Lily could hear. While she was well aware that neither Remus nor Severus's relationships with their parents had been nearly as functional or loving as her own, she did not always understand or appreciate all the consequences, and both young men knew it. Lily had little advice to offer on the subject of Remus's estrangement from his father, and for that he turned more to Severus, who could better understand the complex realities of a dysfunctional father-son relationship. The two of them spent more than a few late nights together on their shabby living room sofa, or pacing the confines of the kitchen cursing Mr. Lupin and Mr. Snape alike. Lily made herself scarce when her boys were in that sort of mood, understanding there was little she could do in that moment and trusting that they would be there for each other, take care of each other, in a way that she couldn't. When Remus's thoughts turned to his mother, though, Lily was there for him. That was a grief she well understood, barely a year since her own parents' murders, and one that Severus knew as well, from Lily's parents if not always from his own. It was a difficult time for all of them, new and recurring personal griefs piling on top of the ever present background of the war and the everyday difficulties of living in a world full of prejudice, but they did their best to work through it together, helped along by the arrival of some unexpected good news to rejuvenate their flagging hopes.

Since Lily and Remus's marriage almost two years before, and even before, the topic of children had always been something of a question. While both had dreamed of little ones in the future, Remus had been terrified since his own youth of passing on lycanthropy to his children. With so little information available on the subject, so little research done into what the child of a werewolf might experience, no way of knowing whether he would be unwittingly cursing a baby with painful transformations from the moment of birth, Remus had been understandably hesitant to father children. Lily and Severus's Wolfsbane potion, proving its worth over months of painless full moons, had changed the equation, as its creators had intended and hoped. They still couldn't know whether their potential child would transform, but they could guarantee that they would not experience the horrors that had plagued Remus's childhood as a young werewolf, and that was significant enough. When Lily's initial suspicions of pregnancy were confirmed, not long after the death of Remus's mother, the parents-to-be were plagued only by the standard fears and panic over having and raising a child during a war, safe (at least mostly) from additional worries over their baby's potential for lycanthropy. Excitement and joy filled the little house on Spinner's End as its inhabitants prepared for the anticipated midsummer arrival of "Baby Lupin," though the worries of the world could not be forgotten entirely.

That Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters were continuing to stir up trouble was hardly a surprise, at least to the Order of the Phoenix, but issues arising in the realm of politics were becoming increasingly worrisome as well. That too was far from shocking, of course, for it is a rare political body that brings more blessings than concerns, but it was clear a political storm was brewing no less than a military one. Officials of the Ministry and members of the Wizengamot made their opinions known, some on one side and some on the other, and the polarization and factionalism that had been spreading slowly among the common people now seemed to be accelerating rapidly towards chaos and what passed for open warfare in the more lofty political arenas. Officially, the Ministry of Magic was vehemently opposed to the Dark Lord and his followers, putting in place harsh measures in an apparent attempt to crack down on their activities, but few efforts were made to address the underlying issues of the day. The decision to allow Aurors the use of Unforgivable Curses, and changes to procedures for arrests and trials, were met with enthusiastic support from some and horrified shock from others; which individuals fell into which camp were often as surprising as the legislation itself.

Mary Potter, planning for her impending return to the Daily Prophet as her maternity leave approached its end, was stunned to receive a recommendation that she not return at all. Additional digging, with the help of the few colleagues who had not yet been terrified into silence, found confirmation of what Mary had suspected. Certain individuals, ones with substantial monetary influence on the newspaper, were unhappy with things she had been writing, and felt that she had become too political for the Daily Prophet, which prided itself on its non-partisan reporting. They claimed not to be firing her, and made appropriately shocked and indignant noises when she accused them of getting rid of her for being muggleborn, but firmly reiterated that they had no work to offer her for the time being, and did not expect to have any for the foreseeable future. James, more than offended on his wife's behalf and hopeful that his own name and reputation might have more of an effect on the snobs down at Daily Prophet headquarters, offered to help, but Mary refused. It was clear the way things were shifting, and even the word of a pureblooded Potter would not keep an opinionated muggleborn on the newspaper staff for much longer.

Mary was the first among her friends to lose her job over thinly disguised blood politics, but they all knew she was unlikely to be the last. For purebloods like James, Gideon, or the Longbottoms (if and when they came out of hiding) there was far less reason to fear, and Diana's job with the goblins would be safe regardless of her blood status. But for the half bloods there were worries that sooner or later they would come under scrutiny, and for Lily it seemed inevitable that sooner or later she would be forced from St. Mungo's. It would take time, no doubt, for the hospital was less concerned with politics and public opinion than a place like the Daily Prophet, and had fewer pressures from outside its own walls. But it was not a concern that could be ignored completely, no matter that mainstream wizarding society had not yet turned against its muggleborns. And while the persecution that Lily feared was only just beginning to appear with a hint here or there, another form of prejudice had taken center stage in the form of new legislation which would affect Remus personally and immediately.

Amid growing fears of Lord Voldemort, and rumors that werewolves had been flocking to his side (a rumor more true than many, though that hardly excused the actions taken in its name), the Ministry announced its intention to create a mandatory werewolf registry. Werewolves would be allowed to retain their wands, and even go about their lives as full citizens of the wizarding world, provided that they publicly registered themselves with the Ministry, made no effort to deceive anyone into thinking they weren't a werewolf, and generally kept out of trouble. Disobedience of these or any other wizarding laws would result in punishment more severe than for "regular" wizards, and the particulars of the crime of "hiding lycanthropy" was left vague enough that virtually anything could, under the right circumstances, be used as an excuse for arrest. The new Wolfsbane potion, just now finally entering the open market after months of bureaucracy and additional testing, should have made such measures feel less necessary by eliminating the very real threat of werewolves accidentally getting loose and attacking people. Instead it was twisted the opposite way, with pamphlets and editorials spreading fear that werewolves would now be able to hide their condition and creep into society without notice. Lily and Severus were left to watch in horror as the very thing they had created to help Remus was used as the foundational argument for making his life infinitely more difficult. For better or worse, the credit for Wolfsbane had gone primarily to Damocles Belby, and few outside their immediate circle knew enough of the role the two Healers had played in its invention to cast any blame their way. It was little consolation.

Christmas came and went, overshadowed in the Lupin-Prince household (as in so many others) by the turmoil of current events, despite Lily's best efforts to create some modicum of normalcy and festivity. Soon the New Year was upon them, and the Order of the Phoenix found themselves in an increasingly precarious situation, as one threat was overtaken by another and simultaneous hazards appeared, seemingly designed to stretch their resources and force unthinkable choices. For weeks they had prepared for a possibility of violence in Hogsmeade in the early days of January, at the planned inauguration of the newest mayor of Hogsmeade village. It seemed an obvious target for Death Eater activity: a chance to publicly eliminate the mayor elect, a halfblood who made no secret of his support for muggleborns and hatred of Lord Voldemort and who had already been warned to cease his fiery rhetoric or face the consequences; a chance to sow terror in a major wizarding gathering place; a chance to make Dumbledore look weak by attacking under his nose even as the children of Hogwarts returned by train for the new school term. All the Headmaster's suggestions and pleas to cancel or tone down the event were met with resistance, born from a combination of idealistic stubbornness and pompous conviction on the part of Thadeas Macmillan that the Death Eaters wouldn't dare to actually attack him. The Ministry of Magic too was certain that there was no real threat, and refused to provide more security than the nominal Auror or two that was standard for such an event. Still unconvinced of the lack of danger, Albus Dumbledore intended to provide his own fighters in case of attack, regardless of the wishes of Minister or mayor. Those plans were choreographed in advance, plotted out carefully to ensure full coverage of the village, and the Headmaster had begun to feel prepared, if far from relaxed, as the day in question approached.

But even that minimal sense of control was lost when warning of a new threat arrived mere hours before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave London, a threat of violence against the train and the hundreds of students it would carry to Hogwarts that very day. The head of the Auror Corps dismissed the warning as a hoax, refusing to risk the public relations nightmare of sending Aurors to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters or stationing them on the Hogwarts Express. With no chance of aid from more official channels, Dumbledore saw no choice but to divide his own meager troops between the two possible attack sites. Frantic patronus messages flew between members of the Order, directing some to the festivities at Hogsmeade while calling others back to guard King's Cross Station and ride the Hogwarts Express to protect the students. With the Longbottoms still in hiding and Mary forced to stay home with her two month old son, barely ten fighters could be cobbled together for each location even with the few new members who had joined in the last year or two. But with no way to confirm whether the Death Eaters were truly intending two simultaneous attacks, or whether train or village was the more likely target for a singular strike, fortifying one site at the expense of the other was not an option. The Headmaster himself took charge of the Hogwarts Express, bringing with him most of the younger Order members, including Remus, Gideon, Alazandra, and a few of the newest recruits. Lily, now three months pregnant, was permitted to join them after a slightly heated discussion with Dumbledore. As she pointed out, the Order only had two Healers, and with Severus already assigned to Alastor Moody's Hogsmeade team the Hogwarts group would be left without medical backup unless she participated. Severus was silently grateful that she hadn't tried to argue her way into Hogsmeade; both locations had the potential to become bloodbaths if things went badly, but Dumbledore's presence provided a sense of greater safety. For his part, Severus was keenly aware that most of the Hogsmeade team consisted of older, significantly more experienced Order members, perhaps to make up for the Headmaster's presence on the train. Even James and Diana, the other two "young" members of Moody's team, had much more combat experience than Severus; he was a more than passable dueler, but all knew that would not be his primary role that day.

With last minute plans made and assignments received, the chaos of early morning turned to an anticipatory calm before the storm as the members of the Order found their places. On Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, some shepherded students onto the Hogwarts Express, trying to subtly hurry them along without causing a panic or garnering attention from parents. Others were completing a sweep of the train itself, ensuring no one else was trying to sneak onto the train with the children. But soon enough that task was done, the train loaded and all the students settled in their compartments, leaving their watchful guardians with nothing to do but pace the corridors or peer fretfully out the windows, standing ready for an attack that could come at any moment, or not at all. It was odd, Lily mused to Remus, how much difference two and a half years could make. Less than three years since the last time they had sat on this train as students, and now they were back as adults, as guards for all the students who suddenly looked so much younger than they had even a few years before. Alazandra, overhearing the comment, couldn't help but laugh despite the circumstances. "You think a single morning babysitting the train is bad, imagine trying to teach for a whole year. I was half sure McGonagall would still give me detention for being out after curfew!" It felt good to laugh, breaking the stress of waiting if only for a moment, before continuing the seemingly endless patrols. The hours stretched on, and the train continued its trek north, while its defenders grew ever more tightly wound as each additional moment passed without incident, leaving them to imagine what might still await them.

In Hogsmeade, the situation began much the same, an initial burst of activity giving way to hours of tense vigilance combined with the boredom of waiting out the mixture of political showmanship and festivities that comprised the mayoral inauguration. Moody had split up his fighters in pairs as soon as they arrived in the village, spreading them throughout the gathering crowd and surrounding area. Unlike the train, which had a finite set of players and clear demarcations between bystanders and potential combatants, Hogsmeade was already a mob scene. Witches and wizards came and went, constantly milling about, now moving closer to the raised platform where Thadeas Macmillan would give his formal address (now hosting a fluctuating set of musicians and other entertainers), now wandering away to visit the shops and booths that had sprung up around the village. It was an ever changing stage, and the Order could only hope that its next act would not prove to be a tragic one. Severus had been paired initially with Diana, and they meandered together through the crowd, wands within easy reach but not yet held ready to avoid setting off a panic, constantly watching for any signs of unrest. The cold of the early January day was held at bay by braziers lining the streets and warming charms cast with abandon, but a strong chill still lingered in the air, and Severus found himself thinking wistfully of the warmth of the Hogwarts Express. It felt like an eternity, hours upon hours of boring people giving boring speeches, throngs of festival goers pushing and shoving, shouting and cheering loud enough that Severus was doubtful that they would hear if anyone did call an alarm.

On that point, for better or worse, he would be proven wrong. The attack on Hogsmeade, when it came, was far from a subtle one. The sound of the Death Eaters' apparition was indeed lost in the sounds of merriment, but the subsequent explosions were more than loud enough to grab the attention of the crowd. For a moment the scene seemed frozen, masked figures surrounding a crowd too terrified yet to even scream. It lasted only seconds, then everything seemed to happen at once, panicked people running in all directions, impeding each other's progress far more than they advanced their own. The attackers had begun to move as well, curses shooting through the crowd, coloring the scene with bright flashes of light. The Order had begun to move as well, some attempting crowd control, trying to clear a path of escape for the fleeing villagers and defending the increasingly large number trapped by flying curses and falling debris, others attacking the Death Eaters directly. Another explosion, the stage collapsing too quickly for anyone to halt its motion with a spell, the screams of people pinned beneath its wreckage. So many screams, desperate cries for help, but far too few for the number of people who must have been caught beneath the debris. Severus saw two wizards dragging Thadeas Macmillan's limp body out of the wreckage, feeling a flash of anger towards the man. Dumbledore had warned the mayor that his event would make the village a target, and now how many more would pay the price for his arrogance? That Macmillan himself was dead was no consolation; he had not been a bad man, simply one with an overabundance of confidence and a dearth of common sense.

A flash of green narrowly missed Severus as he bent down to check the breathing of a man on the ground; Diana Arratay's returning shot hit the Death Eater who had cast it straight in the chest. The air was filled with smoke, fire spreading from fallen braziers and miscast spells, adding even more confusion and danger as the people of Hogsmeade attempted to flee or fight. Diana was dueling a masked wizard now, and Severus could see Dorcas Meadows and James Potter fighting side by side, trying to reach a group of children defended by a single witch. He turned that way, trying to make his way towards them, stopping to help what injured he could along the way. Nearly tripping over one body, Severus was unpleasantly shocked to find himself meeting the staring lifeless eyes of Caradoc Dearborn, an Order member whom he had last spotted fighting alongside Alastor Moody against a half dozen or more Death Eaters. Severus spun wildly, searching for the older Auror. There was nothing more to be done for Doc, but where the hell was Mad-Eye?

It took a moment to spot him in the chaos of the fighting, and Severus's blood ran cold when he did. Moody was surrounded, and it was clear already that he had not escaped unscathed from the attack that had killed his partner. Even as Severus watched, desperately fighting his way towards the older wizard, a spell hit Moody's wand, shattering it into pieces. Everything was happening too fast, and Severus would later have difficulty reconstructing what exactly had occurred. For just as it seemed that it must be over, with Moody wandless and his opponents closing in, a flash of red and gold split the air, phoenix fire suddenly there and gone, and Moody was no longer unarmed but wielding a silver sword encrusted with ruby at the hilt. He rose again on unsteady legs, lashing out at the Death Eaters who surrounded him, deflecting curses with his blade and sending more than one wizard to the ground. But even the truest of bravery and courage can take a man only so far, and even as magical a blade as the Sword of Gryffindor cannot hope to defeat seven wizards wielding wands. Severus, still too far away to help, saw his own horror mirrored across the battlefield in James's eyes as the two young men bore witness to the final stand of Alastor Moody.

The fighting continued after Moody's death, but Severus could hardly have said what happened, the afternoon passing in a blur of smoke and blood, curses and flames, bodies lying still in the streets of Hogsmeade and the wounded crying out as the world seemed to end around them. And then, with no warning, the Death Eaters were gone, disapparating as quickly as they had appeared an eternity before. Taking with them their own injured and the Sword of Gryffindor as a trophy for their master, they left behind wreckage and the Dark Mark to cast its eerie glow across the scene as the winter twilight darkened the sky. It was only then that the next stage of the battle could begin, the rescue efforts no longer hampered by curses flying to and fro, searching for the dead, the dying, the injured. Moving the debris, the wreckage that trapped living and dead alike, hunting for loved ones in the flickering light of the flames that still burned among the broken buildings and broken people. A train whistle sounded in the distance, cutting through the sounds of the battlefield, a sudden horrifying reminder to the surviving Order members that they had no idea what might have happened to their comrades on the Hogwarts Express.

Those on the train were having a similar moment of fear as they drew nearer to Hogsmeade Station, lovers and friends with no notion of what their fellows might have faced, knowing only that they themselves had been met with nothing but the stress of possibility. Remus, Lily, and Alazandra were the most on edge, staring desperately out the window as if they would be able to see Severus and Diana and know that they were well if only they could focus hard enough. It was Remus who first spotted the glow in the distance, and all three relaxed for a moment, for the glow of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts had always meant safety and the end of the journey to school. It was only as they grew nearer that the relief turned once more to concern, as the village came into view and it became clear that the light came not from the cozy household fires and streetlamps, but from flames burning in the village itself and the Dark Mark hanging above it. It was all the Headmaster could do to stop the trio from rushing ahead, reminding them that their work was not done until the students were safely within the castle, though his own worry was clear. The death toll, when they learned it, was sobering. Though Severus, Diana, and James had all survived the battle more or less unharmed, Alastor Moody and Caradoc Dearborn had been joined in death by Dorcas Meadows and Edgar Bones, nearly half of the Order members stationed in the village. The rest of the casualties were still being tallied, and there were those who had been sent on to St. Mungo's who might yet succumb to their wounds. It was already clear that the day had seen more magical blood spilled than any other in recent memory.

The turmoil of January spilled over into the following weeks and months, as the wizarding world grappled with the new stage of war that seemed to be upon them. There were no further attacks on the scale of the Battle of Hogsmeade, but the implications of the incident could not be easily shaken. For the Order too, it was a difficult time, struggling to cope with yet another reminder of their own fallibility and mortality, not to mention the growing concerns about the effects of their losses on the Order's ability to continue on. For Dumbledore there were other fears too, concerning the Sword of Gryffindor. Those present at the battle had been able to confirm that the sword had appeared to Alastor Moody in a moment of great bravery, and that the Death Eaters had taken the sword with them when they departed at the end of the fight. Given that the one horcrux the Headmaster was certain Voldemort had made was the locket of Slytherin, he feared that the Dark Lord intended to turn the sword into a horcrux as well. It was a thought almost too horrible to contemplate, particularly given that there was nothing the Order could do to prevent it, but a scenario that seemed all too likely nonetheless.

Indeed, though Dumbledore could not know for certain, he had predicted with perfect accuracy one piece of Voldemort's grand scheme, a part of the plan already underway. For the Dark Lord did intend to turn the Sword of Gryffindor into his sixth and final horcrux, and had already selected the death to use in its creation: Neville Longbottom, the infant son of Alice and Frank. It had been the better part of a year since the Longbottoms went into hiding, perhaps nine months since Peter Pettigrew hesitantly told his master that Dumbledore believed the Longbottom baby important and that the young people of the Order suspected there was a prophecy relating the child to the Dark Lord's downfall. Voldemort had set aside the thought for those long months, choosing to spend his time on more pressing matters. But now, with the wizarding world cowering in fear as they waited for his next move, with yet another victory won and the Sword of Gryffindor finally in his grasp, it was time. Prophecy or no prophecy, Dumbledore feared for the safety of the Longbottoms, and the timing of their disappearance suggested their son was a part of it. And prophecy or no prophecy, the death of the Longbottom boy seemed an appropriate one to mark the Dark Lord's final horcrux. It took time to track down the Auror couple, hidden as they were in a long forgotten property of the Longbottom family, but with no fidelius charm to keep them undiscoverable and Death Eaters working diligently on the problem, the information was in hand in a short matter of months. While the Order of the Phoenix fought to keep the wizarding world from sliding into chaos on multiple fronts, their enemy prepared a blow much greater than the minor attacks and terrorism that had kept them on their toes since January.

On the evening of the seventh of March, just under a year after they went into hiding, the wards on the Longbottoms' cottage were breached, and the two Aurors found themselves face to face with Voldemort. Taken by surprise in a place they had assumed safe, nonetheless Frank and Alice fought back, desperately trying to save their son, if not themselves. Their triggered alarm spells sounded in Godric's Hollow, at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, a cry for aid ringing unheard in the empty building. Another night there should have been someone there, would have been someone to hear and rally the troops, but it was not the only attack that night, nor even the first. Those on backup duty had already been called away to aid on other fronts, and Alice and Frank were left to fight alone. Skilled duelists both, and talented wizards, they were still unprepared, taken off guard, and proved no match for the power of Lord Voldemort. Until their last breaths they fought to shield their son, and it was only when both Aurors lay dead upon the blood splattered floor that the Dark Lord was able to approach little Neville. Barely seven months old; he would grow no older. Satisfied, and believing his mission accomplished, though he would ultimately prove less successful than he had believed, Voldemort vanished into the night. Leaving behind a silent cottage and the cooling remains of a loving family, lit only by the Dark Mark looming above in a cloudless sky.

Word of the Longbottoms' deaths spread quickly, and horror and sorrow spread with it. It was a tragedy for the wizarding world at large, both the deaths of the too-young individuals and the termination of an ancient and well regarded family tree. Only Augusta Longbottom, the dowager of the house, was left behind to bury her son, daughter-in-law, and only grandchild; the Longbottom line would end with them. For the Order of the Phoenix, it was a blow equally grievous. The loss of friends, of comrades, of James's mentors in the Auror corps, Mary's best friend and fellow young mother, and the glue that had first brought the young members of the Order together. The loss of the sweet baby that Lily and Severus had delivered together, of Gideon's godson, the source of hope and celebration for so many, and Albus Dumbledore's prophecy child. Each survivor felt the loss differently, faced the grief as best they could, found comfort wherever they were able. All but one endeavored to continue living, to continue fighting as they knew their fallen friends would have wished. All but Albus Dumbledore. While his followers struggled through their shock and horror at finding the Longbottoms dead but refused to lie down and accept defeat, the Headmaster seemed to have simply given up. To him, this was no mere random loss of soldiers, or even of friends and proteges, but the fulfillment of prophecy foretelling the victory of the Dark Lord and the coming triumph of everything he himself had long been fighting against. The rest of the Order, still unaware of the prophecy's existence, were left with no explanation for their leader's sudden loss of morale and dwindling will to fight, stumbling through their continuing resistance with less and less input and support from the Headmaster, and increasing concerns and fears of their own.

The following months were a dark time for the Order, and for the wizarding world at large. Death Eater attacks grew bolder, more frequent, and Auror Corps and Order both could only try to contain the damage. As fear grew among the common people, so too did support for Lord Voldemort, that odd, incongruous kind of support that so often follows prospective dictators, stemming less from true agreement than from concern for one's own safety, but support nonetheless. With Albus Dumbledore withdrawn, and his obvious successors (Alastor Moody and Edgar Bones) both dead, it fell to those younger or less well suited to leadership to take control of the workings of the Order and continue what efforts they could. Among those efforts, abandoned by the Headmaster but stubbornly pursued by his followers, was the destruction of the locket horcrux. For months Severus Prince had labored to create a combination of potions and spells full enough of light and healing magic to destroy the evil of a horcrux through opposition of their natures, and by the middle of March had finally created a testable prototype. Alone in the room that had long before been designated as potions laboratory at Order headquarters, Alazandra ordered the locket to open from her snake animagus form, then retreated to allow Severus to confront the horcrux. It spoke in the voices of Remus and Lily, their distorted forms twining together and mocking him for believing they could ever love him when they had each other, claiming that they would have no need for him when the coming baby completed their real family. The words seemed plucked straight from the deepest, darkest corners of his own mind, thoughts and fears long suppressed raising their ugly heads to taunt him. But these were battles he had fought and won already, fears consistently banished by Lily and Remus's repeatedly voiced love for him, worries that had crossed his mind when Lily first told him of her pregnancy only to be quashed immediately by her reassurance ("our baby, Sev, not just mine and Remus's. It's all of ours"). No warped horcrux-Lily could unsay words that the real woman had spoken; no coldly-speaking snake-Remus could take back the warmth of the true version.

But while ignoring the temptations of the locket proved less difficult than Severus might have feared, destroying it proved less simple. That first trial was a failure, as were the next month and a half's worth of attempts, as Severus continuously modified potion and spell alike, trying to create the perfect combination. When success finally arrived at the end of April, it came as a surprise. The effort had become something of a routine, one that both Alazandra and Severus had become quite accustomed to over the last months: Alazandra opening the locket then slithering out of the way as the twisted serpentine images made their appearances, Severus pouring the potion over the horcrux and activating its full power with a chanted incantation, then slamming the locket shut when it inevitably wasn't destroyed. This final time began no differently, though Severus had been initially hopeful when he completed brewing the most recent batch. The horcrux healing potion (as Severus often thought of it) usually came out white or silvery, often with hints of shimmer or iridescence, but the latest attempt seemed almost to glow. With the addition of the softly chanted spell it did begin to glow in truth, and the whispers of the horcrux figures distorted and faded to nothing as Severus was momentarily blinded by a final flash of brilliant light. Hesitantly approaching the table where the horcrux had lain, he found only an empty locket, its insides marred by what could only be described as a silvery scorch mark across the gold, a pearly white rather than burnt black. Surprise quickly turned to excitement, and headquarters erupted in rare celebration as the news was spread among the Order. Glasses were raised and toasts made: to Albus Dumbledore, dragged to the party by an already tipsy Hagrid; to Alazandra Langston-Arratay, the best serpent the Order could ask for; to the destruction of enemies, defiance of the Dark Lord, and Severus Prince. Looking around the room, Severus saw rare peace and good cheer, friends and families gathered together to savor their victory, their little moment of rebellion. Lily and Remus stood next to him, her with her nearly seven month pregnant belly and him with the brightest smile Severus had seen in weeks, Alazandra and Diana arm in arm nearby with Gideon beside them, James and Mary cradling a sleeping six-month-old Siri while quite a few older Order members looked on fondly. It was a perfect moment.

The proverbial storm hit within the week, on Friday May 1, 1981. It came in the evening, when so many witches and wizards had finished their work day, their work week, and began to flock to the cultural centers of their world for some much needed recreation. The bars and restaurants were well populated, if perhaps not so full as they would have been months or a year earlier, shops were full of customers, and the streets of newly rebuilt Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley bustled with life. More wary, perhaps, than in years past, but the promise of spring had brought with it a sense of hope and optimism untouched by the realities of the war-torn country. Only the most diligent or socially deprived workers remained at the Ministry of Magic so late, and St. Mungo's had been left to the tender mercies of the night staff, freeing most of its employees as well. Lily and Severus flooed from the hospital together after work, meeting Remus in Diagon Alley; the celebratory feelings from the horcrux destruction still lingered, and the trio had decided to risk an evening out and about. They strolled through the Alley, or rather, Remus and Severus strolled. What Lily did would more accurately (though less charitably) be described as "waddling," though neither of her companions would ever have dreamed of using such a term.

The illusion of peace and tranquility was shattered in an instant, the realities of a world at war crashing down upon the dinner goers. Not only Diagon Alley, but Hogsmeade, St. Mungo's, and more than a few towns and villages known for their large wizarding populations, were simultaneously targeted. Some were minor attacks, one or two Death Eaters appearing to make a point but do little damage, while others transformed into bloody battlefields in moments. Of all the wizarding centers in the country, only Hogwarts was entirely spared, though the attack on the Ministry of Magic was delayed after the others. Diagon Alley was the site of one of the more comprehensive attacks, and Lily, Remus, and Severus quickly found themselves in the midst of an active fight. Panicking civilians ran past them, screams filling the air, bringing with them reminders of numerous massacres and fights in the last several years. The trio ducked into a side alley, pulling out wands and readying themselves to join the battle, when Lily suddenly cried out in pain and surprise. Remus and Severus both spun towards her, but it was Severus's eyes that the pregnant witch met as she clutched her belly. A silent diagnostic spell confirmed the Healer's initial worried thought, and Severus felt his own face pale as he fought to keep his voice steady. "We need to get out of here. Lily's going into labor."

Even as Severus and Remus rushed to help Lily back to Spinner's End, battles continued to rage behind them. Members of the Order of the Phoenix hurried to one front or another, calling futilely for reinforcements and trying to stave off the seemingly unending attacks. The Aurors were called out, leaving the Ministry of Magic virtually unguarded as they assembled wherever their assistance seemed most needed. Unbeknownst to them, their presence would have been of most use at their own headquarters. With the Ministry emptied of its defenders, Lord Voldemort went entirely unopposed as he made his way into the heart of wizarding governance. Accompanied by a bare handful of his most trusted lieutenants, the Dark Lord made his way to the Department of Mysteries. A year since he heard the first rumors of a prophecy, a theory of teenagers hesitantly presented by Peter Pettigrew, nearly two months since he killed Neville Longbottom and began to wonder again if there was any truth in that speculation, Lord Voldemort stood alone in the Hall of Prophecies. The prophecy orb was found with ease; a single listen to the recorded words and a moment of thought provided all the confirmation the Dark Lord had required. In the span of a few hours the fighting would be over, the Ministry of Magic and the wizarding world under the control of the man who had once been called Tom Riddle. As the lazy late spring sun began to set over London, he stood before the assembled wizarding press to declare his victory. The words would be broadcast over the wizarding radio, relayed through magical loudspeakers in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and printed in the morning paper; soon enough all would know the news. He displayed the prophecy orb, reciting its contents, elucidating its meaning as he understood it, finishing with a declaration of his own victory.

"I have defeated your chosen one, your prophecy child, the one with the so-called power to vanquish the Dark Lord. Neville Longbottom is dead, and no man alive can threaten me now! Join me in the new world we shall build together. Lord Voldemort will reign eternal!"

Author's Note: And there you have it. The war is over, the prophecy's been fulfilled, and Voldemort has won...or so he believes. This is the final full-length chapter of this story, but fear not, the tale is far from over! The epilogue is fully written and beta read (cue obligatory shout out to Rory for all the hard work in keeping this story reasonably functional!), so barring any unforeseen disasters I will be posting it on Monday. As always, thank you to everyone who reads, subscribes, and comments, it really makes my day to see people engaging with this work!