Disclaimer: Nope.
Author's Note: Hi everyone. I am so sorry it has taken me longer than normal to update this time around. I was sick for a few days last week, which definitely held me up. Plus, I had a bit of writer's block as well. the combination of both of those things were huge factors. I really hope that the quality of the chapter makes up for the delay.
Thank you all so much for your reviews! I'm so very happy you enjoyed the last chapter, and I'm especially glad you appreciated Ron and Hermione's appearance. Yes, Harry and Sirius are very much supported, and I'm incredibly glad for it.
I hope you enjoy this chapter. This one, too, has a lot of love, trust, and support in it.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sturgis Podmore, unfortunately, was very experienced with loss.
He couldn't count the number of times he'd been through the grieving process. He'd borne witness to many casualties during the First War, watched as many Order members and fellow Aurors gave their lives for the cause of good. He'd been to many funerals, watched as bodies were lowered into the ground, watched as loved ones struggled to come to terms with the loss of someone who could never be replaced. He knew the process well.
But it was never something he could get used to no matter how many times he'd experienced it. Obviously, each loss was different, and each grieving process was different. Each person had held a unique place in his heart, and each person took a piece of it with them.
Therefore, the sudden, tragic loss of Alastor Mad-Eye Moody was something brand new for him. He had been so essential to the Order, and held a place of very high esteem within the Auror corps. So many people had known him, and no matter what impression he made, no one could say that he was just someone who was lost within the crowd. He was one of those people who very much stood out.
On that first night, the grief was debilitating. He had no idea how long he sat on the floor of his home, trusting all of himself to his very best friend in the world, Kingsley. The other man held him, not saying anything at all as the waves of grief washed over him.
Sturgis was the Order leader now. He felt it was his responsibility to hold everyone up. But here, in this moment, Kingsley was the one holding him up. He'd never forget what the man had once said, about how heroes were the ones who bore everyone else's weight, taking on all their burdens, their pains, their sorrows. Heroes were the ones who provided light when the world seemed so dark.
But sometimes, these heroes needed to be held up themselves, because they could only take so much. Because heroes were humans too. They bled. They hurt. They grieved. Kingsley had said that heroes, in fact, were more human than anyone else, because they carried the rest of humanity on their shoulders.
But Sturgis had never thought of himself as a hero. Sure, he could admit that he had a big ego. Sure, he knew there was an awful lot that he could do for the world. But a hero? No. He was only doing what was right. The world needed optimism and joy and positivity. It was people like Alastor Moody who were the real heroes.
That night stretched out before him, sometimes blurry, sometimes extraordinarily vivid. There were periods of foggy numbness where he stared blankly into space, and there were moments when the grief hit so hard that he didn't know when he'd be able to get up again. And through it all, Kingsley stayed, a strong, sturdy presence, never leaving him, never questioning.
Sturgis was so glad he hadn't pushed Kingsley away. After all, there were moments when he had. On September 1, that awful day when he'd had to say goodbye to Ben, he'd wanted to be alone. He couldn't see Kingsley; he couldn't see anyone. The other man had respected his wishes, understanding that Sturgis needed to work through it on his own.
But this was different. For this, he needed someone, and Kingsley knew it. He was truly the greatest friend that Sturgis had ever had, a man who knew him better than he knew himself. The two of them had been through so many experiences together, some full of joy, some full of pain, and some just ordinary and mundane. No matter what life threw at them, their friendship was firm. Kingsley had even been there for him when Sturgis had realized he had made an enormous mistake - dropping out of Hogwarts and becoming involved with people who had led him to a holding cell at the Ministry of Magic.
But as Kingsley held him now, allowing him to express every emotion that came over him, he truly cherished the friendship they had. Many people thought Sturgis an inspiration, but for him, it was Kingsley who inspired him. It was him who helped him come up with ideas, who had made this place the welcoming environment that it was, who constantly assisted him in finding discussion points and activities for the Order's evening gatherings. It might have been Sturgis who first had the idea for them, but Kingsley was essential in helping him carry them out.
When Sturgis finally worked up the energy to move, he was utterly exhausted. He was exceedingly grateful when Kingsley didn't leave. There were very few words said between them, but Sturgis didn't object at all when his best friend offered to spend the night in the guest room.
Sturgis slept soundly that night, because he was so thoroughly spent with emotion. His mind was normally so active that oftentimes, he'd wake up after only a few hours' rest. Either that, or it took him ages to get to sleep in the first place. But his body was taxed, both from the fight with the Death Eaters and from the grief, so he slept deeply.
It was such a heavy sleep that when the morning light hit him, his mind was fuzzy. He was disoriented, and couldn't quite put things together for several minutes. His head was throbbing, and his eyes felt glued together.
And then, it all came rushing back, and Merlin, it was so tempting to just roll over and sink his head back into his pillow. His heart felt so incredibly heavy, and his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool.
But he got up. He got up, because he had to resist that temptation. He heard Alastor Moody's voice in his head - "No rest for the wicked." He recalled his rather twisted, sardonic smile, and it was all so vivid to Sturgis. He couldn't help but think that the man was trying to make contact with him from the other side.
As he performed his normal morning routine, he knew he was definitely moving slower than usual. His whole body felt like lead, but he pushed through it as he proceeded towards the kitchen.
And there, he found Kingsley, who was retrieving things from the cupboards. His voice was quiet as he spoke. "Morning."
"Morning," Sturgis replied as he watched his best friend. "What ..." he started.
"I'm making breakfast." Kingsley gave him a small smile. "Eggs and bacon."
When he had first gotten up, Sturgis hadn't wanted to eat at all. He hadn't eaten the night before, either, but honestly, he still didn't feel very hungry. He was tempted to tell Kingsley not to worry about him, and only make breakfast for himself.
"Don't be ridiculous, boy. You need your strength." Once again, he heard Alastor Moody's uncompromising, stern voice in his head. "You'll sit there and eat. Don't argue."
Somehow, this helped Sturgis. He walked over to the counter, and began assisting Kingsley in cooking. The two of them moved expertly around the kitchen, and Sturgis got lost in the activity. He didn't object to Kingsley cooking the Muggle way - in fact, he was glad for it. There was something comforting about whisking the eggs, about hearing the bacon sizzle. Neither of them spoke - they only shared small smiles.
They sat down to eat their meal, and as Sturgis filled himself up, he could feel a little of his energy returning. He sighed deeply as he let the flavor of the food fill his senses.
"We make a good team," Kingsley said, smiling softly as he took a bite of bacon. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Sturgis imagined that he looked much the same way. Still, it felt like he was finally coming awake again.
"Yes, we do," Sturgis replied. "We always have." A wistful expression came over his face as a sudden memory of the day they'd first met entered his mind. That first, innocent journey on the Hogwarts Express seemed to have taken place in another lifetime.
Kingsley met his eyes, wearing his own reminiscent, wistful expression. He took a sip of coffee, as did Sturgis. Both of them savored the warmth and flavor it provided.
Kingsley cleared his throat then, and Sturgis knew he was about to say something important. "I've made an appointment for us to speak with John Milton at eleven this morning," he said quietly.
John Milton was a funeral director, and he had been, unfortunately, essential during the First War. Many loved ones of fallen Order members had needed his services.
Sturgis nodded. "I'll be there," he said softly.
The two of them exchanged a meaningful glance before Kingsley said, "I have several meetings I need to go to before then." He maintained eye contact, and Sturgis saw the words that he didn't speak - they were in his eyes. Are you going to be okay until then?
Sturgis could freely admit that he felt pretty damned awful, although the food was certainly allowing him to wake up a little. And he realized what he needed to do. The simple act of cooking with Kingsley had been a great distraction, and he realized that if he was going to get through today, he had to find something else that would help him cope.
He had to get out of the house. He had to breathe in the fresh air, feel the sun on his face. He needed the assurance that life went on.
"I'll be okay," Sturgis said to Kingsley's unasked question. "I'm going to go out for a couple of hours."
Kingsley smiled. "What are you going to do?"
Sturgis smiled back. It was small, but it was genuine. "I'm going for a walk," he explained. "So that it will remind me."
Kingsley seemed to understand, even though Sturgis didn't finish his thought. I need to be reminded that there's so much to go on for.
xxx
Sturgis breathed in the fresh air as he walked the streets of London. He had no specific destination in mind, and to him, it was all for the better. It was enough that he had gotten out of his house. There was no denying that he absolutely loved his home, but this morning, it had felt stifling and it was apparent that he needed a change of scene.
He realized that it had been easier than he'd thought to find the energy to walk out the door, and it was for one reason alone. Before he'd left, he'd taken a look at the two communication books he had - one for the Order and one for Aurors. What he found inside warmed his heart and made his soul feel so much lighter.
Both books were completely filled with messages of love, support, and concern from Aurors and Order members alike. Many Aurors now knew that he was the leader of the Order, and therefore knew just what Alastor's death would be doing to him.
Sturgis could honestly say that he was taken aback by how much people cared. Despite everyone else's grief, they had reached out to him to express their support. Sturgis's heart felt full to bursting with gratitude as he picked up his quill and wrote in both books, the message meant for everyone as he thanked them all for the love they had given him.
Then let us be the candle that burns
'Cause what you give us, we give in return (in return)
The circle.
The lyrics of the song that had come to mean so much to the Order filtered through his mind as his eyes once again skimmed over all the messages that had been sent to him over these past hours. All these people had lived those lyrics, reaching out to him in his time of need, returning what he always tried to give to them.
And so, feeling some renewed strength flow within him, he had closed the book, gotten himself ready, and walked out the door.
There were plenty of people on the streets, and there was something very uplifting about seeing life go on. The normal smells and sights of London filled his senses as car horns honked, and people talked and laughed. A rather cold breeze blew, but somehow, it helped. It made him feel ... alive.
He ended up at a small coffee shop that had quite a few customers inside. He had the sudden urge for more coffee, and he still had some free time before he had to attend the meeting with John Milton. Therefore, he walked in, and stood behind several people who were waiting in line.
He was rather disgusted when he heard the person currently at the counter berating the harassed-looking barista. "I have things to do today, and I don't appreciate you taking so long. The service here is horrible," the tall, brown-haired woman spat.
"I am very sorry," the barista was saying, looking very flustered and trying to maintain her composure. Sturgis felt instant empathy for her, and didn't at all like the look of the woman standing there giving her a hard time.
This happened all too often in Sturgis's opinion. How many times had he heard customers yell at Tom, the proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron? He'd seen people be rather horrid to Madam Rosmerta in the Three Broomsticks as well.
It wasn't fair. Sturgis could imagine that working this kind of job was very difficult. The poor barista looked like she was having a very bad day, and at that moment, Sturgis wanted nothing more than to give the complaining woman a piece of his mind. He wasn't having a great day himself, and maybe that woman wasn't, either, but he would never treat someone like that. Nothing justified that sort of behavior.
Therefore, when it was his turn to go to the counter, he made sure to give the barista a warm smile. When she supplied him with his order, he smiled again and said quietly, "I'm sorry about those who don't treat you with decency."
The barista smiled back. "Thank you," she said as Sturgis went to sit down at a table.
xxx
It had been a strange sort of day, Sturgis reflected, one of those days that felt ... not quite real.
His early trip to London had honestly done a lot to put him back on his feet. His interaction with the barista at the coffee shop had, hopefully, made her day better as well. He'd had so many people show him support in the endless amount of messages he had received. He could only hope that the barista had people on her side, too. Every single person that he had seen on the street could have anything happening in their lives, and might be trying to cope with it in any way they could. The least anyone could do was treat them with decency.
Because he had felt rejuvenated, he had been able to handle the meeting with John Milton, as difficult as it had been. He, Kingsley, and Rufus Scrimgeour were in charge of all the funeral arrangements for Alastor Moody.
The funeral would take place on Saturday, a week from today. His wishes were to be cremated rather than buried. John Milton had known Moody rather well, and he, too, couldn't hide his sadness over his death. He would make sure the funeral went off without a hitch, and that it would be the best send-off that Moody could get.
Now, Sturgis and Kingsley were sitting in Sturgis's living room, and it was currently six in the evening. In only an hour, tonight's evening gathering with the Order was supposed to begin.
But Sturgis needed to make a decision on whether it was going to happen at all today. He hadn't brought it up when he'd thanked everyone for their support this morning, and no one had asked about it. They were all giving him space, and Sturgis appreciated it more than they knew. They were letting him decide things at his own pace.
To be honest, he felt better than he'd expected to feel. Today had been more productive than he'd originally thought it would be, and therefore, his mind was clearer for it.
Still, was he ready to see the Order, to let them in again, to see their faces and hear their voices? Was he truly prepared?
And he realized, in that moment, that he was.
If this was his loss to bear alone, like it had been with Boris back in May, he would ask everyone not to discuss it with him until he was ready to talk about it. They would respect his wishes like they had then, and it would be a wonderful distraction for him to spend time with others he cared about and know that they cared for him in return.
But this situation was very, very different. This wasn't just his loss - this was the entire Order's. They'd want to talk about it. They'd want to reminisce. They'd want to discuss the good and the bad, because Alastor Moody hadn't exactly been a person that everyone had gotten along with. Sturgis had no doubt that the not-so-savory parts of him would be brought up, even if people were reluctant to do so.
And yet, he still felt that he was ready to handle this. He was their leader, and the Order trusted him to do right by them. They had shown that they were there for him. And now, it was his time to return it to them.
The circle.
That was what friendship, what love was. A circle. It was giving and taking and giving and taking. Life was unpredictable and during times like this, it was especially so. And that song seemed to encapsulate how he felt about the Order, and how they felt about him, perfectly.
Sturgis smiled at Kingsley as he picked up the Order's communication book. "Are you sure?" Kingsley asked as he picked up his quill.
"Yes." Sturgis nodded, realizing that he needed to see those faces again. "I'm sure."
He wrote the message: For all those who want to, we will be meeting at our usual time tonight at Headquarters. Hope to see you there.
And within minutes, Sturgis felt his heart fill up again as he received many messages in return:
We'll be there.
They had been waiting for him to say something, ready to support whatever decision he made.
And this, above anything else, cemented it for him.
xxx
Sirius sighed, his heart having felt very heavy all day as he and Harry somehow made it through. It had been a very quiet day full of sadness, but full of much reflection.
It was Saturday and a free day for Harry, but still, he had been quietly studying all day. Sirius was extremely concerned about him and insisted that Harry rest, but he wouldn't. "Moody would want me to study," he'd persisted.
Sirius had shaken his head, his heart aching for the boy. "I think Moody would be okay with you resting today. You can always go back to your studies tomorrow."
Harry had looked at him, the desperation in his emerald eyes pulling at every single one of Sirius's heartstrings. "I need to study, Sirius." His words were pleading. "It's the way I deal with ... with this."
Sirius remembered how, when Harry had first arrived here after the Third Task, he'd insisted on continuing with his schoolwork, even though he was in hiding and everything was so uncertain. Upon recalling this, Sirius relented. If this was the way Harry chose to cope with this tragedy, then who was he to tell him not to? Everyone had different ways of dealing, after all.
It was now just after six, and still, he hadn't heard if Sturgis was having his evening gathering or not. If they hadn't heard from him by seven, which was the normal start time, they'd assume it wasn't happening. Merlin, Sturgis ... every time Sirius thought about him, his heart broke. He recalled the grateful message he and all the other Order members had received in their books this morning; it had actually brought tears to his eyes. Sturgis was so genuine and so wonderful. The Order truly didn't deserve a leader like him.
He and Harry were sitting on the couch in their customary position, and Sirius had the book sitting in front of him. He'd had it close all day, because he'd been thinking of Sturgis and the Order all day. He wondered how the rest of them were holding up.
He thought back to last night, of the feelings of warmth and gratitude that had swept through him at the arrival of Ron, Hermione, and Remus. They had stayed for several hours, and there was very little conversation. But it was one of those evenings where nothing really needed to be said. It was comforting just to know that those closest to them were there. They just simply sat there, the warmth of the fire nurturing them, the strength of their friendship comforting them.
Today had been hard, but Sirius knew that last night had helped him and Harry enormously. He could only hope that everyone else in the Order had their own sources of comfort. He thought of Tonks, who had been mentored by Mad-Eye, and knew that Andromeda and Ted would be her strength.
Andromeda. Merlin ... if the Blacks were well-known for anything, it was their ability to hold a grudge for very long periods of time. Even though Sirius and Andromeda had been disowned, they were still famous for it. His favorite cousin hadn't spoken to him since his exoneration, and when Sirius had brought it up to Tonks, the expression on her face had shown him clearly that Andromeda was angry with Sirius.
But Sirius understood. He understood more than Andromeda realized. How must it have felt to see his face all over the newspaper, to be told that the only one of your family members who understood you, who was on your side, ended up being a traitor after all, and was now rotting in Azkaban? How would it feel to come to terms with the realization that everything you thought was true was a lie?
Andromeda and Sirius had commiserated through the endless pureblood parties, all those awful evenings where they'd had to shake the slimy hands of all those who thought Muggles and Muggle-borns were beneath them, who either sympathized with Voldemort or, even worse, outright supported him. Sirius had supported Andromeda's decision wholeheartedly when she'd fallen in love with Ted and chosen that love over the disdain and hate of her family, and she had, in turn, been so proud of Sirius when he'd broken away as well, choosing his friendship with James, Remus, and Peter over everything else.
And yes, Andromeda now knew that Sirius was innocent, but the hurt and pain of those twelve years would remain. Sirius couldn't pretend that her staying away didn't sting - but he understood. Tonks had told him to give it time, that she would eventually come around, and Sirius could only hope that was true. How could he ever apologize to Andromeda for hurting her so?
Sirius was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by the beeping of the Order's communication book. Harry, who had been relaxing beside him with his eyes closed, became fully alert as Sirius said the password, opening the book and reading the message inside.
A slow smile spread across his face, one full of relief as he looked over at Harry. "Sturgis is having the evening gathering," he said, and although a part of him was shocked that the Order leader was ready to see them so quickly, another part of him wasn't surprised at all.
Harry smiled back, his emerald eyes brighter than they had been all day. "That's wonderful," he said quietly.
And although both of them knew that it was going to be a sad occasion, he also knew that the Order would have each other.
xxx
It was a close, rather intimate setting as the Order of the Phoenix sat together in Sturgis's living room. The fire crackled, its warmth filling the room, and there was a huge comfort in everyone being back together again. Right now, the only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and the breathing of the Order members.
Sirius looked at all the exhausted faces around him, and he had a flashback to the last war, when people had sat in similar positions. Towards the end of the war, when Voldemort and the Death Eaters had been picking them off one by one, they'd sat with their heads hung, feeling thoroughly defeated.
But there was something very different about this time. Though there were grief-stricken faces around the room, there was something else, too - a feeling of community, of trust.
There was no doubt that Albus Dumbledore had been a stellar leader of the Order. Each member had trusted him implicitly, and followed his orders. He could be lighthearted, but he could also be very somber and serious when it was needed.
But Dumbledore had never been embraced like Sturgis had been. There had always been something intimate in the way Sturgis spoke to them, in the way he reassured them, in the way he could make them laugh when there seemed to be no humor in their surroundings at all. Sturgis was real in a way Albus Dumbledore never had been. When he said they would win the war - when he looked at them with no doubt whatsoever in his eyes - it made the Order so much more hopeful.
It was Harry who broke the silence as he looked over at Sturgis. "Thank you for doing this," he said quietly.
"Yeah." Tonks's voice was raw. "Yeah ... thanks."
Sturgis looked exhausted himself, but he smiled warmly at all of them. "We need each other," he said simply. "I had to see you all."
There was silence for another minute as everyone appreciated the moment. Sturgis and Kingsley had provided beverages for everyone, and Sirius sipped at his hot chocolate, Harry doing the same beside him. Sirius shared a sad smile with Remus, who returned it.
Tonks spoke up again, her voice small. "Do you ... do you know when the funeral is yet?"
"Yes." Kingsley answered. "It will be on Saturday, a week from today." Kingsley and Sturgis gave details of where it would be, and Sirius listened, knowing that he and Harry would be there.
There was silence again after they had finished, and Sirius could tell that several of the Order members wanted to say something, but none of them wanted to be the first to speak. None of them wanted to open the floodgates, to give voice to everything they were feeling.
And it was one of those moments when Harry's bravery showed itself again, because it was his voice that finally broke through the silence. When he spoke, it was the same words he had said yesterday as he and Sirius mourned together. "He let me call him Alastor," he whispered.
There were several astounded looks at this, and it was Tonks who answered him. "You got into his heart, Harry," she said quietly. "Something he claimed to no longer have."
"I knew that wasn't true," Harry said, his eyes sad. "He was wrong."
"It was very rare for him to let anyone get close to him these days," Kingsley said solemnly. "The fact that he allowed you to call him by his first name was very special."
"I know," Harry replied. "It wasn't anything I expected."
That seemed to jump-start the conversation, as many Order members began sharing memories of Moody, recollections of him through the years. Sirius watched the varying expressions of the members; almost all of them were there. Severus Snape was not, but he never came to any of these gatherings. Even Minerva McGonagall was there, and she normally didn't come to these.
It was Remus who seemed to read Sirius's mind at that moment, voicing his thought out loud. "Has anyone been in contact with ... with Albus?" he asked softly.
The fact that Albus and Alastor had been friends for decades was one of the many reasons that Sirius had been so furious with the old man. He recalled the confrontation he'd had with him vividly, demanding to know how he hadn't known a friend from an enemy when Barty Crouch, Jr. was impersonating him. Sirius couldn't help but wonder how he was taking the other man's death.
"I reached out to him, yes," Sturgis said. "In fact, I invited him here tonight, but he declined."
Sirius realized how hard that must have been, considering how Sturgis felt about Dumbledore as well. But he also knew that now was the time when old grudges should be put aside, and Sturgis, true to his character, had done the right thing. Sirius knew it was downright selfish of him, but he couldn't help but be relieved that Dumbledore had chosen not to attend.
"Minerva?" Remus asked. "How is Albus?"
McGonagall's expression was closed. "He is coping," she said evasively. "He knows that we will be here for him, if he needs us."
Remus simply nodded, and the others exchanged glances. Sirius's heart twinged as he thought of his old mentor.
Talk of Dumbledore inevitably led to thoughts of Moody being stuck in his magical trunk for an entire year, and the trauma it must have caused. "It changed him," Sirius said. "He was the first to admit it. No one can go through something like that and be unchanged."
"He was already paranoid as hell before that," Mundungus piped up, always being one to speak his mind.
"Don't be insulting, Mundungus," Tonks snapped, her emotions close to the surface.
"I'm not," Mundungus replied matter-of-factly. "I'm only speaking the truth. Just because he's gone doesn't mean we shouldn't be truthful about him. He never held back about any of us, did he?" He gave Tonks a meaningful glance. "You two were at odds with each other quite frequently," he said plainly. "I very distinctly remember you saying that you were sick of his negativity."
Tonks opened her mouth, her hair turning red, and Sirius knew she was furious. "You ..." She pointed a finger at Mundungus.
Sturgis cleared his throat, and the simple noise brought everyone to attention. "Tonks." His voice was gentle. "Mundungus."
He didn't say anything else, but he didn't need to. His voice alone was enough to stop the argument before it went any further. "I'm sorry," Tonks said, and her eyes were full of tears. "I'm just ..."
Mundungus got up out of his chair and walked over to Tonks. "I'm sorry, as well," he murmured. "I wasn't insulting him, I swear."
"I know," Tonks admitted, wiping her eyes. "I know that when we remember him, we should remember all of him, exactly as he was. I just ..."
"I know." Mundungus patted her shoulder awkwardly.
Tonks gave a watery smile, attempting a joke as she said, "After all, if I don't make it out of this, you lot had better not remember me as a saint. I'm a clumsy, klutzy, overemotional mess who doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut."
There were a few quiet snickers, but they died very quickly. The mood in the room was incredibly somber and serious, and the moment of levity was all too brief. Everyone in the room looked at each other, and the atmosphere seemed to contain a very intense energy.
It was Sturgis who spoke up then. "As I have always said, humor is one of the best ways of getting through these situations," he said. "We all know what we risk by fighting this war. Every single one of us in this room knows how precious life is, and we are all aware of our own mortality."
"It's just ... hard to laugh over anything right now," Bill said, his face drawn. "I know that humor will come again, because you're right, Sturgis. We need that to get through the hard times - you've brought that home to us more than anyone. I reckon the only reason we've been able to find anything to laugh about is because of you."
It was clear that Sturgis didn't quite know how to respond to that. There were a few beats of silence before he said, "I am very glad I have been able to help. But I also think that proclamation is nonsense."
Several of the Order members looked doubtful at that, including Sirius. "No," he said, and there was passion in his voice. "No, Sturgis. You truly don't understand what you mean to all of us."
Sturgis closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again, an intense expression upon his face. "Thank you for all your support," he finally said. "I need you to know that you help me as much as you say I help you."
The Order simply sat together in a moment of companionable silence, the only sounds in the room again being the crackling fire and their breathing. Harry reached out from beside Sirius and took his hand, and many other Order members seemed to follow his example. Sirius saw that both Kingsley and Bill had a hold of one of Sturgis's hands.
After several moments, Tonks spoke, her voice small once again. "How ... how do you think Moody would want to be remembered?" she asked quietly.
"I think it's as you said before - he would want us to remember all of him," Arthur Weasley replied. Beside him, Molly's expression was constantly changing, cycling through a range of emotions. Sirius wondered what she might be thinking - he'd seen this happen before, and he remembered it vividly. It had happened on the first day that the Weasleys had come to Grimmauld Place over the summer.
"He said he didn't know the definition of peace," Remus said softly. Sirius noticed that he looked exceedingly fatigued, and not just from the grief of Alastor's death. It wouldn't be long until the full moon rose once again, and Sirius's heart ached. If only ...
"He said the same thing to me," Sturgis replied.
"And to me," Harry said. "But ... I think he could have."
"He would have very much disagreed with you there," Mundungus said. "He said he saw too much war to ever know peace."
"He was always ready to fight," Emmeline said, her voice emotionless; it was as if she was talking about the weather. "And in the end, he went out a hero."
Sirius saw the hardened expression on Emmeline's face, and felt a burst of sadness. In truth, her disposition was very much like Alastor's had been. They were hardened, embittered people who had been through incredible losses, and to act like nothing could touch them was their own way of self-protection.
At Emmeline's comment, something in Molly's expression changed. Her eyes flashed, and she got to her feet so quickly that it stunned many in the room. Arthur looked at her with intense love and sadness while Bill's face grew worried and wary.
"A hero." Molly spat the words venomously, the bitterness thick in her voice. "A hero."
"Molly ..." Arthur spoke softly. "Darling ..."
But Molly was too far gone in her anger to heed Arthur's comforting tone. "That's what that man said about my brothers, too," she practically snarled. "My brothers, who had hopes and dreams for the future, but were instead brutally changed by the war. Fabian ..."
She completely lost control then, her heartbroken sobs ringing through the room. Arthur instantly put his arms around her, bringing her head to his shoulder, and she wept on him. Sirius felt his own grief for Gideon and Fabian resurface, and Harry looked heartbroken beside him.
As Arthur tried in vain to comfort Molly, Bill quietly explained what had happened to Gideon and Fabian during the last war. Many people already knew all of this, of course, since they had fought with the Order back then as well. Obviously, Bill hadn't, but he knew the story well.
Sirius would never forget being at Saint Mungo's when Dorcas had died on her and Fabian's wedding day, succumbing to the organ-damaging curse cast by Voldemort himself. He, Gideon, Frank, Alice, Lily, James, Remus, and ... fuck, Peter ... had all been in the room as Dorcas took her last breath and Fabian wept unrestrainedly. Sirius didn't think he'd ever been in a place more full of sadness.
After she had passed away, Fabian had refused to stop holding her. Sirius recalled the manic, wild light in his eyes vividly as the Healer had gently told him to let her go. His response had been to hold her more tightly. Sirius remembered Fabian's words that were laced with pain and fury so strong that it was a force in itself - "Why couldn't you save her?"
A week later, her funeral had been held. Fabian's howls of sorrow as Dorcas's body was lowered into the ground had gotten plenty of replay for Sirius in Azkaban, and they haunted him now as Bill told the story. Fabian had fallen to his knees, beating the ground with his fists. "I can't do this without her! I can't live without her! She was my whole world!" He was doubled over, his agony physical as well as mental.
And after that, he'd turned into someone who wanted nothing more than vengeance. Even when others told him that it wasn't what Dorcas would have wanted, he just glowered at them. The man he'd become was not the one who had held Dorcas with such love and tenderness, who had promised the world to her and who had vowed to take care of her and cherish her for the rest of their lives.
"Crucio! CRUCIO! Avada Kedavra! AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The battle where Gideon and Fabian had been ambushed and killed also got plenty of replay in Azkaban. Sirius listened as Bill explained how, when Fabian had seen Gideon fall, he'd lost control completely. Bill had his hand on his mother's shoulder as he explained, and although he was as gentle about it as he could be, he told the truth. The entire time, Molly hid her face in Arthur's shoulder, her sobs breaking Sirius's heart.
He saw that, next to him, Harry looked heartbroken as well. The boy was blinking back tears as he heard about Fabian's terrible loss and how it had affected him. A flare of anger shot through Sirius - Harry shouldn't be hearing about things like this. He once again had the thought that this was grossly unfair, that Harry should be enjoying his youth rather than hearing horrifying stories like this. Sirius reached out and took Harry's hand again, squeezing it tightly within his own.
As Bill reached the end of the story, Molly finally lifted her head from Arthur's shoulder, her face red and blotchy, her expression one of both rage and unresolved grief. "And yet, all Moody cared about was that Fabian went out a hero," she spat, the emotion so raw and thick in her voice.
And it was then that Harry's maturity shone through once again as he got out of his chair and walked over to Molly. Sirius could see the rest of the Order's faces, and it was clear that many of them were lost in memories. Sturgis looked agonized as Kingsley laid a hand on his shoulder. Sirius saw Tonks wiping tears from her eyes, Emmeline stony-faced next to her, and Remus looking anguished. Sirius took it all in, but his eyes truly rested on Harry as he made it to Molly's side.
"Mrs. Weasley." The boy spoke softly. "Mrs. Weasley ... I honestly don't think Moody realized how much he upset you by saying that. He ... he once admitted to me that he'd lost the ability to truly understand what the fighting and the losses did to other people. He told me that all he could see now was the good it did when his enemies were taken out."
Molly looked up at Harry, her tearstained face devastated. "He was right," she said, her voice cracking. "I ... I'm still so angry with him."
"I can understand that," Harry whispered, taking Molly's hand. "And I ... I think he understood, too. He once said ..." He stopped, his eyes meeting Molly's. "He once said that he didn't want me to end up like him. He knows I have to fight in this war, and I'm more than willing to do it. He said he was jaded and cynical and he didn't want me to end up like that."
Molly let out another sob, and replied in a shaking voice, "He really said that?"
"He did." Harry nodded, patting Molly's shoulder. "I ... I'm so sorry about what happened to your brothers, and to Dorcas. It's not fair."
"No," said Molly, sniffling and wiping her eyes with a handkerchief Arthur tenderly handed her. She then looked at Sturgis, who was staring at her with a gaze full of compassion and understanding. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "We're ... we're supposed to be remembering ..."
"It's all right, Molly." Sturgis had made his way over, his eyes unbearably sad. "As Mundungus and Tonks have said, I think it's very important that we remember Alastor just as he was," he said quietly.
There was silence in the room as the Order members looked between each other. There were hands on shoulders as some wiped away tears. Sirius once again felt how profound this moment was. He'd never felt closer to them all - they'd become family.
"I think ..." It was Remus who spoke. "I think we're better prepared to fight than ... than last time around. Our bond is stronger," he said softly, looking at Sturgis.
Sturgis smiled sadly. "I agree," he told them. "But I am not the only one responsible for that. You achieved so much of it on your own."
There was another silence, which was then broken by Tonks. "Why?" she whispered. "If Moody knew his limitations, if he knew he wasn't as strong and as quick of a fighter as he used to be ... why ... why did he risk it?"
"Because he thought it was worth it." Sirius spoke. "He was never one to walk away from a fight even though he knew what the risk to himself was. Alastor Moody might have been flawed and jaded and cynical, but he knew what mattered."
"I ... I know," Tonks whispered. "Rationally, I know all of that. But I'm just so ... so angry with him," she confessed, her voice colored by shame.
"And that's okay," Sturgis said reassuringly. "That's normal."
Sirius looked at him, and Sturgis looked back. They caught and held each other's eyes for a moment as a sudden influx of memories swept over Sirius. He thought of October 1979, of how upset he had been with Sturgis for going on that mission when he'd been getting ill before he even left.
MISSING. The word resounded through his mind, and Sirius had thought over and over again: How could Sturgis risk himself like that? How could he? How could he?
And that hadn't been the only time that Sirius had been livid with the other man for jeopardizing his own safety. Suddenly, another memory crashed into his mind, one that he hadn't thought about for a very long time. After all, the Dementors had only allowed him to truly remember the first part of it, not the second.
It had been in the year 1980 - on February 12, to be exact. Sirius and Sturgis had walked to the Ministry's Apparition point after another amazing mentoring session. In only a few short months, Sirius would graduate from the program and go out into the world as a fully-fledged Auror.
It had been a Tuesday, and Sirius was fully expecting to hear that he and Sturgis would meet tomorrow, at their normal time. Of course, with Sturgis's career, it was never a guarantee that it would happen. There was always something at the back of Sturgis's mind that warned him against expecting things to function as normal, especially with a war going on, and especially with it getting worse each and every day.
After all, in the past three weeks, there had been several horrific Death Eater attacks that had affected people in several different parts of the country. One of them included a vicious attack on the Knight Bus. A Death Eater had been on board, and had attacked everyone on the bus. Only the driver had lived to tell the tale. The world was getting scarier and scarier. Diagon Alley was frequented less and less often, as were many other locations. The majority of the wizarding population were terrified to leave their homes, and the impact was being felt in the Muggle world as well, as crime was skyrocketing and no one really understood what was happening.
As Sirius and Sturgis stood at the Apparition point on that Tuesday and Sirius was about to say goodbye, he felt his entire world freeze at his mentor's words. "I'm leaving early tomorrow morning."
There had been a strange ringing in Sirius's ears as Sturgis had explained the last-minute mission he'd been sent on. "I won't be around tomorrow and Thursday. I'll be back Friday. Take care of yourself."
He'd probably said more than that, but Sirius hadn't really heard any of it. All he'd registered were the words "leaving early tomorrow morning" and "won't be around tomorrow or Thursday, I'll be back Friday".
And all he could think as Sturgis Disapparated was that that may have been the very last time he ever saw him, and he had been so stunned that he hadn't been able to say anything except "good luck". It had been so sudden, so abrupt ...
He couldn't recall how long he simply stood at the Apparition point, staring and staring and staring at the spot where Sturgis had been standing. All he knew was that when the numbness finally wore off ...
"Remember February 1980?" Sirius asked before he could stop himself, the sudden memory inescapable. "And that mission you told me you were going on at the last minute? I was so ... so angry with you," Sirius admitted.
Sturgis looked directly at him, and Sirius continued. "I wasn't angry or resentful about whatever the mission entailed. Never that," he said, his voice softening. For a moment, he forgot that anyone else in the Order was here in the room with him. Right now, it was only him and Sturgis, their mentoring sessions, and how much the other man meant to him. "I know how important those missions were, how many lives they might have saved, and how much it meant to you that you were trusted with them. The reason I was so angry was that you agreed to put yourself at risk. I reckon the only reason you're still here now is because ..."
And for the first time in so many years, he was finally able to recall precisely what had happened the next morning.
He'd literally gotten no sleep that night, but somehow he'd managed to drag himself to the Ministry in the morning. Even though Sturgis wouldn't be there, he still had other classes with the Aurors in the morning, and he'd been assigned reading material in the afternoon.
He'd arrived at his office just before eight o'clock. Feeling like a zombie, feeling that everything was unnatural and wrong, he'd sat down at his desk, already missing Sturgis and fearing for his life.
He certainly hadn't expected to see Kingsley Shacklebolt coming towards him, and he certainly hadn't expected the words that came out of his mouth. He'd placed a Silencing Charm around Sirius's cubicle, so the words were for his ears alone.
"Sturgis will be with you today after all," he'd said in his slow voice. "Scrimgeour received intelligence that the mission was too risky. It isn't going forward."
The wild joy that came over Sirius at that moment was indescribable. Thank Merlin ... thank Merlin. Words like "missing" and the feeling of dread evaporated like air from a balloon.
He wasn't going. He wasn't going. He was coming to the Ministry instead. Whatever that mission was ... it had been aborted.
A hysterical laugh almost bubbled up out of him - would he get dismissed as an Auror trainee if he kissed Rufus Scrimgeour right now?
He allowed himself a moment to revel in the joy and relief. He promised himself it would only be for a moment. Because he would eventually stop being selfish and think about how Scrimgeour's decision had affected Sturgis, because Sirius knew how much Sturgis took these missions seriously and how much of a difference they made to him. Sturgis was the kind of person who would roll with the punches and accept the decision, but that certainly wouldn't mean he'd be at all happy about it. ...
"Because I didn't go. Scrimgeour thought it too risky." Sturgis's words pulled Sirius back to the present.
"Yes," Sirius said. "Exactly. Scrimgeour's decision most likely saved your life."
Sturgis stared at him intensely, and Sirius couldn't help but be intimidated, just as he had in those days long ago. But Sturgis's next words were quiet.
"We in the Order all must make difficult decisions," he said softly. "We must weigh the risks and benefits, and decide what is worth it. You have done it yourself, Sirius, plenty of times." He looked him directly in the eye. "You were prepared to lay your life down for those you considered family, leading the enemy to believe you possessed a secret you didn't even hold within you." He held Sirius's gaze. "You were willing to play decoy, just to see your best friends and your godson live another day."
Sirius felt overwhelmed with emotion as Sturgis acknowledged what he had been willing to sacrifice. He turned to look at Harry, who looked equally emotional. Sirius recalled those painful, heartbreaking moments of convincing James that he and Lily should go through with it. It was the worst fight they'd ever had in their decade of friendship, and James's screamed words came back to him - "I don't want to live in a world where I have to sacrifice my best friend in order to save my wife and son!" James's guttural, broken words still made Sirius shudder.
He could see the guilt in Sturgis's eyes at the major part he had played in Sirius's incarceration, and that he had completely misjudged his character. "It was worth it. I would do anything for them." Sirius replied, smiling softly. And he needed Sturgis to remember he forgave him everything.
Sturgis nodded, accepting their silent exchange. "Just as it would have been worth it to go on that mission, if Scrimgeour hadn't told me not to go," he said quietly. "Just as Alastor Moody was willing to risk his own safety in this war."
"As we all are willing to do," said Tonks, nodding in acceptance and understanding, though her face was still full of grief. "I ... I know. I'd have done the same thing."
And in that moment, the bond the Order shared grew even stronger, knowing that despite the risks and the losses, they would see this through. Together.