Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: October Twilight (#3232)
Author: VanatheEverYoung
Chapters: 16

Archive: Harry Potter
Category: Bookverse
Description: Witness the birth of friendships, of heroes, and of legends through the eyes of one young woman who made no great mark on the wizarding world, but died to save the lives of those who did. This is the story of Dorcas Meadowes.
Published: 28 Dec 2006
Updated: 30 Jan 2007
Warnings: Violence; Mild Language; Mild Sexual Situations
Type: Drama
Characters: Dorcas Meadowes; Sirius; Lily; James; Remus


Chapter 1 - Something Worth Fighting For

October Twilight
Preface

I know that no one enjoys reading a preface, but please bear with me. I promise it will be brief, informative, and painless.

This story is about Dorcas Meadowes, a character mentioned only once in six books. I doubt she will be mentioned in the seventh. In this story, I attempt to form a character and her history from the few clues we have about her.

“That’s Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally … Sirius, when he still had short hair.”
Mad-Eye Moody, Order of the Phoenix, p. 174 American paperback.

One of JKR’s trademarks is how much emphasis she places on names and their meanings. This isn’t always true, but researching the name Dorcas led to some very insightful discoveries.

Dorcas: Greek, meaning a gazelle.

Gazelles are considered prey. They are also very quick runners and extremely graceful.

Dorcas: In the Bible, she is a Greek woman and civil servant brought back to life by Peter. The whole city mourned her death. Acts 9:36-41

Hopefully, this explains some of the decisions I’ve made regarding Dorcas’s personality and past. I hope her character is agreeable to you. I’m open to constructive criticism and suggestions as much as I am to positive reviews. Thank you for reading (and even more for reviewing).

Cheers,
Vana, the Ever-Young

Many thanks to Galadriel8891 for the beautiful banner, the support, and all the other e-mails we share besides. Also, to my Beta-reader I Shant Eat Flamingo Tongues from Perfect Imagination for fixing all the stupid mistakes I can’t see in my own writing.

October Twilight
Chapter One
“Something Worth Fighting For”

A figure huddled down into a warm woolen sweater leaned against the rickety whitewashed fence just outside Hampshire Village. It was not at first possible to tell that the figure was female, so deeply had she buried herself into the turtleneck. Her sleek raven tresses swirled and tangled in the harsh October wind as she waited. Try as she might to brush the errant locks behind her ears, the wind would not allow it to stay well kempt for long. She bounced on the balls of her feet and rubbed her arms to keep warm, all the while muttering curses in a light, melodious voice that did not suit the profanities escaping her lips.

Dorcas Meadowes was cursing the man who was late for the meeting he’d arranged with her. As if it weren’t bad enough that she was standing in the middle of a barren field facing the wind, the man had insisted that they meet there, he then had the nerve to be late! If she hadn’t respected him so much, she would have Apparated back to her house and forgotten about the meeting.

During the walk from the secluded house to the village some half a mile away, the wind had picked up and tiny snowflakes had begun drifting from the overcast sky. Few people had ventured out into the nasty weather, and she couldn’t blame them. She would much rather have been curled up in front of the fire than standing in the middle of the field waiting to meet with an extremely tardy old man.

The Muggles in the village went about their daily routines, not knowing about the wizarding families who lived among them. They had no clue that the pretty young woman hanging around the town sign was a witch. They would never have suspected that she had a wand clutched in her right hand and strategically hidden in her sweater sleeve. Those same villagers were the reason she was dressed in an itchy Muggle sweater and trousers and why she couldn’t just Apparate back to her house like she wanted.

That, and her father had put so many security charms on the house that it was impossible to Apparate into it, find it on a map, see it unless told where it was or lived there, or bring Muggles within fifty feet of it. She was confused about the Muggle-repelling charms, as several of her aunts were Muggles. She suspected her father had just gone a bit overboard in the hysteria He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters were spreading throughout the wizarding world.

Just as she was about to begin screaming profanities at the weather, the man she had been waiting for appeared in front of the Apothecary. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but the words died in her throat. She couldn’t have been disrespectful to her former professor if she tried. Now that she saw him, she couldn’t help but feel grateful to see him, late as he was.

Professor Albus Dumbledore was a wizened old man with a flowing silver beard and intelligent blue eyes framed behind half-moon spectacles. The usual smile on his lips seemed forced today, and that concerned Dorcas. Throughout her years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she had spent countless hours in the Head’s Office to fulfill her duties as prefect and for the extra lessons Dumbledore had given her twice a week. She had never seen the Headmaster anything less than jovial.

From his sudden arrival, she assumed that he had Apparated, but the accompanying popping sound had been lost on the wind. She was surprised that he had done so directly into the middle of the village. It was a sign of the times, she thought. Everyone wanted to get from one place to another as quickly as possible. Witches and wizards from the Highlands to Kent were living in fear. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was getting very powerful, and there was no sign of him stopping his campaign of death and destruction anytime soon. That even Professor Dumbledore felt this urgency was disquieting.

“Miss Meadowes!” Professor Dumbledore called, striding over to her.

The fence was some hundred feet away from the outskirts of the village and the walk into the gale had winded him somewhat. Even through the breathiness, his voice sounded strained, and he spoke quickly.

“Good afternoon, professor.”

“The place I asked you about …,” Dumbledore prompted.

“Oh, right!”

Dorcas’s thoughts had been jumbled since the barn owl had alighted on top of her Medicinal Charms homework with a letter from the Headmaster earlier that morning. He had asked to meet with her at one o’clock that afternoon and for her to find a secure location where they could speak freely about delicate matters.

“Our house should be fine. Dad will be at work until five, and Darius is at school, of course.”

A hollow feeling settled in Dorcas’s stomach as she led the way down the lane. Eight months after the fact it still felt unnatural to not include her mother and Calliope when talking about her family members. After the funerals, so many people had told her that the emptiness would heal with time. She wondered if any of those same people had ever lost anyone as close as a mother and sister.

The Meadowes’s manor sat on a large plot of woodlands that the family had owned for as long as anyone could remember. The house was not as large as those owned by other pureblood families, but the Meadowes did not have an overflowing vault of gold in Gringott’s Wizard Bank. Their wealth was in the history of the sweeping gothic arches and elaborate tapestries in their home.

At the front entrance, Dorcas pulled out her wand and waved it in the complicated pattern that revealed the wards placed on the house. A thin purple mist appeared over the gargoyle knocker with a number of ancient symbols floating in it. Dumbledore made an interested sound from behind her, and Dorcas couldn’t hold back her smile.

“Very impressive. Filius would be delighted to see such exquisite Charms work.”

Dorcas chuckled softly, thinking of the Charms Professor squeaking and tumbling off the stack of books he stood on to teach. Dorcas disabled the wards deftly, having memorized their order. She made a mental note to reset the wards after her father came home. If she had them memorized, then it was time for new protections.

She led the Headmaster through the atrium where portraits of deceased Meadowes matriarchs welcomed him graciously and patriarchs inquired about his health. A house-elf dressed in a frilly pink tea towel was waiting with a tray when the Headmaster and former student entered the vaulted drawing room.

“Thank you, Mellie,” Dorcas smiled.

The house-elf bowed low, her plump nose touching the oak floorboards. “Does Mistress and Sir require anything else?”

“No, thank you, Mellie.”

When the house-elf backed out of the room, Dorcas turned towards Dumbledore. She had spent many hours with the Headmaster and knew that he would come to the point of the meeting in his own time. Presently, he was buttering a biscuit from the tray.

“I’ll be direct,” Dumbledore said, when he had finished the biscuit. “I asked you to meet me today so that I may ask for your assistance in the fight against Lord Voldemort.”

Dorcas physically started at the name. She set down her tea cup with a shaky hand and wiped off the liquid that had burnt her fingers. Dumbledore was looking at her sternly, as he had many times in the past when she had done something particularly foolish during one of their lessons.

“Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself,” the Headmaster said. “You’re far too bright and too brave to be scared of a name.”

“Yes, well, thank you for the vote of confidence.” Her tone made it clear that she would not be using the Dark Lord’s name anytime soon.

“I’d like to ask you to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

There was a charged silence in the air during which Dorcas wanted to ask what the Order of the Phoenix was, but didn’t want to appear foolish by not knowing.

Dumbledore smiled patiently and said, “This is what happens when the cleverest people converse. The Order of the Phoenix is an underground society. We fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters in every way we can.”

An image of her mother and sister lying in their coffins flashed behind Dorcas’s eyes. Death Eaters had murdered them in the second raid on Diagon Alley.

Dorcas had decided to become a Healer that day late in seventh-year, having changed from pursuing a career as an Auror. There were plenty of students ready to duel with Death Eaters. Dorcas thought there should be someone to patch up the Aurors at the end of the day. She had wanted to serve the side of good in the best way she knew how, and Healing was her way of doing that. She didn’t know what she could offer the Order of the Phoenix, but Dumbledore thought she had some skills that would be valuable and she trusted his opinion.

“I don’t know what I can do, but I want to do something besides sit in a classroom and wait until I have enough knowledge to heal someone.”

“You’ve shown extraordinary magical talent, Dorcas, and I would be honored to have you in the Order of the Phoenix,” Dumbledore continued. “You can do more than you might think. I must tell you that there are risks involved. Order members have died fulfilling their duties …”

The silence in the air was palpable. Dumbledore left it hanging for a long while, allowing Dorcas time to think about the possibility of death, the people she would leave behind, and the good she might do if she believed strongly enough in the cause.

“If this war had never begun, you would certainly have had a bright future. You still may have. I will not pressure you into giving that up. You have as much time as you need to decide.”

“I’ll join,” Dorcas said immediately. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

Dumbledore gazed at her thoughtfully, a mixture of sadness and pride mingling on his aged face. “I expected nothing less of you.”

Dumbledore gazed silently at Dorcas for a moment, and then suddenly she felt an unpleasantly familiar sensation spreading through her mind. Images of Healers telling her about bone fractures and her mother’s and sister’s funerals were swimming in front of her eyes. She concentrated hard, focusing her attention away from those thoughts and instead upon a single image of a sphinx.

Next moment, Dumbledore’s laughter filled her ears. Dorcas was panting slightly from the mental exhaustion of pushing such a powerful wizard from her mind, and a throbbing pain was forming just behind her eyes. When she looked up, tears were leaking out of Dumbledore’s crinkled eyes.

“A sphinx, I should have known. Someone as clever as you would devise a sphinx to guard your thoughts. Brilliant, Dorcas. I must say, this device is much more creative than the locked door you used in your school days.”

“That’s all you wanted?” Dorcas asked, a little annoyed.

“Yes,” the Headmaster answered, growing more serious. “I need to impress upon you the absolute necessity of practicing Occlumency every moment of every day. One slip with a Death Eater skilled in Legilimency around and you will be Voldemort’s next target. He will stop at nothing to get someone with your ability on his side. If he finds out, he will invade your mind to learn what you know. He will not show restraint as I have today. He will break your mind to get the information he wants. You must not let him find out.”

A shudder passed down Dorcas’s spine as she thought of all the damage He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could do armed with the information she could provide him. Dumbledore was right. She would be in grave danger if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named found out her ability. She made up her mind in an instant. She would not give in to him. She would die before joining the ranks of the Death Eaters. Goose pimples spread up her arms as the thoughts swirled in her head. It was likely she would face that choice sooner or later. Her head was pounding from the mental invasion and spinning with nervous adrenaline. She couldn’t help but wonder what she’d gotten herself into by joining the Order of the Phoenix.

“Before I go, I’d like to show you a few spells I’ve created. The Order uses Patronuses to communicate. It’s a modified version.”

Dorcas mastered the spell after a few failed attempts. When her bright deer-Patronus delivered a message to Dumbledore, and when she dissolved his phoenix-Patronus and received the scroll it had been carrying, the Headmaster took his leave.

“You’ll be informed of Order meetings by Patronus,” he said, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. “There will be a meeting within the week.”

Dorcas walked her former professor to the gate, and after resetting the wards, retreated into the warm manor. It was approaching three o’clock, and she hadn’t done so much as one essay for her classes. She trudged upstairs, forcing herself to focus on her studies and not what dangerous and top-secret missions Dumbledore might have for her.

The upstairs of the house was only half the size of the downstairs with sloping ceilings and very few windows. It wasn’t as cheerful as Hufflepuff Cellar had been, especially with the dim autumn sun hidden behind the clouds, but it was home. Dorcas walked past her bedroom, pausing only to step over the massive pile of Healer robes she had bought the week before but hadn’t found time to wash.

She entered the second upstairs room and sat down at her desk. There was more light in this room, which was the reason she had chosen it as her study. She had crammed five bookshelves, full to overflowing, into the small room. Her course books were piled by the desk with bits of torn parchment serving as bookmarks and reams of notes shoved into the coordinating chapters. It didn’t look very organized, but with all the work trainee Healers had to do, she didn’t have time to organize her notes and homework.

Her assignments had been all but forgotten in the wake of receiving the owl from Professor Dumbledore that morning. The essay on treating werewolf wounds that were not bites lay forgotten, the word “infection” only half written.

True to his word, Dumbledore sent a message by Patronus within the week. The note was short, asking Dorcas to arrive at the Three Broomsticks the following Saturday at ten minutes before ten. It said nothing else, but she guessed that this was when she would receive her first assignment for the Order of the Phoenix. She would have to miss a study session for Medicinal Potions to attend the meeting, but it would be worth it to find out more information about the Order.

Four days later, Dorcas Apparated into Hogsmeade Village. The streets were packed with Hogwarts students third-year and above, and the shop keepers were bustling behind their picture windows. It was the weekend before Halloween, traditionally the first Hogsmeade weekend. Festive orange and black decorations hung from every window and store front. Zonko’s was having a Halloween Extravaganza sale, and Scrivenshaft’s was offering a two-for-one special on quills with the purchase of a pre-carved jack-o-lantern.

Several seventh-year Hufflepuffs shouted greetings to Dorcas, and her younger brother, Darius, waved from inside Honeydukes. She walked up the street towards the Three Broomsticks, enjoying the smell of spiced pumpkin wafting out of the bakery and huddling into her cloak to block the cold wind. By the time she reached the tavern, her cheeks were rosy and she was craving a butterbeer.

“Morning, Dorcas,” Madam Rosemerta called.

Dorcas smiled at the barmaid and was about to reply when she was knocked backwards by the force of Lily Evans barreling into her. Lily’s fiery red hair was all she could see for a few moments as the girls embraced.

“Why haven’t you sent me an owl? How’s Healer training? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

Dorcas laughed, happy to be around Lily again. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together since the end of the school year, and even then they had been studying for NEWTs. Being in different Houses, both with prefect duties, and taking different subjects, it had been difficult to find a few moments just to chat.

“I’ll explain later. I think we only have a few minutes until McGonagall arrives anyway. You know she’s never late.”

Lily led the other young woman towards the back of the tavern where a small group of graduated students, all in Dorcas’s year, had gathered. She greeted Remus Lupin as enthusiastically as Lily had greeted her. She and Remus had been practically joined at hip for the twelve weeks preceding NEWTs, but they hadn’t seen much of one another since June. He was looking especially fatigued this morning, but he smiled warmly and embraced Dorcas, as selfless as always.

Dorcas was entirely nonplussed to see James Potter there, still running his hand through his untidy black hair. No matter how much Lily said that Potter had changed, Dorcas still thought of him as the conceited bully who terrorized anyone who annoyed him. She was surprised to see that Sirius the Sidekick wasn’t with Potter, not that she missed seeing him. Remus was the only Marauder she liked.

Potter was rambling on about something stupid Peter Pettigrew had done earlier that day. It wasn’t exactly an original topic, Dorcas thought. Although he was a sweet boy, Pettigrew was always doing stupid things. She’d never forgive him for incorrectly casting the Engorgement Charm that had killed her owl in second-year. He was absent from the meeting, but thinking about the quality of the other witch and wizards Dumbledore had invited, she wasn’t surprised.

The bell above the door jingled again as Professor McGonagall entered the tavern looking thoroughly put out. A string of what looked like orange slime was swinging from the brim of her hat, and she was dragging a tall young man with short black hair by his ear.

“Of all the immature things you’ve done, that was by far the worst!” McGonagall shrieked. “If you were still in school, I’d take one hundred points from Gryffindor for that display and put you in detention for a month and ban you from Quidditch! You’re of age now! You should be setting a better example!”

The young adults at the table were stifling their laughter as McGonagall continued to lecture Sirius Black on all the childish and dangerous things he had done in the past while twisting his ear so hard that his entire face contorted in pain.

Dorcas was the most gleeful of all. Her favorite hobby at Hogwarts had been seeing Black get detention. She hated the way he wasted his popularity on hexing anyone who annoyed him and thought he deserved every detention he’d ever served.

When McGonagall was done with Black, she pushed him aside. He was too busy massaging his ear to notice Dorcas specifically, but he glared at his snickering friends. With flushed cheeks and thin lips, Professor McGonagall asked them to follow her into the back room.

She shuffled the former students around boxes filled with butterbeer, firewhisky, and kegs of various drafts. They exchanged curious and amused glances behind her back, wondering what thing of importance could be in the backroom of the Three Broomsticks.

“You understand,” said Professor McGonagall, as she picked up an empty Ogden’s Firewhisky bottle, “that everything you hear today is top-secret. We’ll be taking this portkey directly to the Headmaster’s Office and you’ll be leaving by Floo powder from his grate. No one is to know you’ve been to Hogwarts today. You were in Hogsmeade only, if asked.” Her expression softened somewhat, but she refused to look at Black as she continued. “You are the finest students of last year’s graduating class. That is why Dumbledore has asked you to join the Order. You’ll be receiving your assignments today.”

At two minutes after ten, McGonagall ordered everyone to touch the portkey. Dorcas felt the familiar tug behind her navel and the world sped past in a blur of color. Next moment, she was lying on her back in the Headmaster’s Office, watching Fawkes clean his feathers while Lily yelled at Black to get off her back. A moment later, the pressure of having two bodies on top of her lifted, and Lily pulled her up.

“My, but that was interesting,” a familiar voice said. Professor Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, watching the scene with sparkling blue eyes. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone older than twelve make such a mess of a portkey. Perhaps I’ve chosen the wrong witches and wizards after all.”

McGonagall was snickering behind her hand. It was a bizarre sight, one Dorcas had never seen before. She had been nervous about her first assignment for the Order, but the familiar Head’s Office calmed her somewhat. The portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses snoozing in their picture frames, the whirling metal objects, and Fawkes reminded her of better times when life had been all about having fun.

“Please, sit,” the Headmaster said, waving his wand.

Several chintz armchairs appeared beside the former students. They had grown unnaturally still, anxious to finally receive their assignments.

“We’ll need a warning.”

Dumbledore had directed this at the phoenix, which disappeared with a bright burst of flame. Only then did the Headmaster turn his gaze to the young adults he had asked to meet with him.

“You’ve all shown extraordinary magical talent, and I have complete confidence in all of you. There are risks to these assignments, as I’m sure you know. No single Order member, except for myself, knows everything that we are doing. It is safer that way, for even the bravest are defenseless against certain types of magic.”

He fixed Dorcas with a stern glare, as if accusing her of something. She gasped, realizing the implication. He nodded solemnly. The others, except for Lily and Remus, looked curiously between the Headmaster and Dorcas.

“I will not say do not speak to one another about your activities, but use discretion. As adults, you will have to carry some burdens alone. Spreading certain information could endanger your friends.”

He paused for a moment and plucked a sheet of parchment out of his pocket. As it was passed around the group, Dumbledore explained the note.

“There is a Fidelius Charm on headquarters. Only I can reveal its location. Please memorize that address.”

Dorcas looked down at the parchment in her palm.

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at number seventeen, Holly Falls, London.

Something about the name Holly Falls rang a bell, but Dorcas couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before. McGonagall burned the message with her wand tip and let the black ashes fall into the waste bin while Dumbledore continued explaining the Order to the newest members.

“We have been informed that Martin Weasley and his family have been targeted by Voldemort. Last week, Martin’s older brother was murdered. He was their Secret-Keeper. Although Arthur Weasley has volunteered to become their new Secret-Keeper, Martin will not hear of it. He wants to take his family into hiding outside the country so as to not endanger anyone else close to him. Until the arrangements are finalized, you will be standing guard over the family.”

Dorcas felt her heart pounding against her ribcage. She wanted to stop He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the Order seemed the best way to do it, but she hadn’t thought anyone’s lives would be placed directly into her hands.

“Seeing as Remus is busy up north, and I have a special project for Dorcas, the guard duties will be split between Lily, James, and Sirius. Two will be on duty at all times.”

Dorcas was curious to know what Remus was doing in northern Scotland, but she didn’t think this was the time or place to ask him bluntly what he had been doing for the Order his very first week as a member. She also wanted to know what her special project was, and why the Weasleys were being guarded by three eighteen-year-olds instead of trained Aurors.

“Miss Meadowes, I’d like you to set up a hospital wing at headquarters,” Dumbledore continued. “There may come a time when even St. Mungo’s is not safe, and we need to be prepared. You have whatever resources you need.”

Dorcas gaped at the Headmaster, but he didn’t comment on her obvious surprise. She had only been in Healer training for a few months, and her professors constantly remarked that, while she knew all the information from the textbooks, she had trouble applying it.

She glanced at her former classmates, wondering if they found the assignments daunting as well. To her dismay, they looked perfectly calm, as if they had expected such important assignments. Not for the first time that week, Dorcas felt incredibly foolish. She clamped her mouth shut, deciding not to voice her concerns.

“You will be contacted later this week by other Order members who will take you to number seventeen, Holly Falls. Until then, please carry out the assignments I have requested. If anything should go wrong, do not hesitate to contact myself or any other Order member you know.”

After a few more instructions from Dumbledore, the newest members of the Order lined up at the fire grate. As Dorcas stepped out of the grate and into her own drawing room, she couldn’t help but wonder why Dumbledore has assigned her such an important task. Surely there was another Healer in the Order who could do a better job. She made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about it the next time she saw him. At the moment, she had more pressing matters to attend to, like the unfinished essays due Monday morning.

Before she set to work, she jotted a note to herself on the corner of her Medicinal Charms notes.

Check Practical Studies classroom for supplies needed.

Whether Dumbledore would reassign the task to a more experienced Healer or not, Dorcas vowed to fulfill the assignment as best she could.


Chapter 2 - Intimations of Re-Evaluations

October Twilight
Chapter Two
“Intimations of Re-Evaluations”

September 1st, 1971
1st Year

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was packed on September the first. The scarlet Hogwarts Express sounded a shrill warning whistle and belched forth thick white smoke as the pistons jerked into action. Through clear patches in the dense clouds of steam students could be seen hoisting large trunks and pet cages onto the train, greeting friends they hadn’t seen over the summer, and saying farewell to their families.

Petra Meadowes embraced her oldest daughter tightly while her husband, Simon, and son, Darius, lifted Dorcas’s heavy trunk onto the train. Sending their first child to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was bittersweet for Simon and Petra.

“You’ll write and tell me about Calliope?” Dorcas asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Petra’s hand absently drifted to her protruding stomach. The baby was due in late November, and Dorcas was upset that she wouldn’t be able to welcome home her newest sibling. As Petra rubbed her belly, she regarded her daughter curiously.

“Calliope? I don’t think your father will agree to another Greek name. Besides, we don’t know the baby’s gender yet,” Petra laughed.

Dorcas cocked her head to one side and made a noncommittal sound. She looked so like her grandmother when she did that. Petra could almost see her mother staring out from Dorcas’s amber eyes. She had inherited nothing from Simon, unlike Darius who had his green eyes and freckles, but rather the olive skin and dark hair and eyes from Petra’s Greek family.

Petra almost disagreed with her daughter again, but decided not to pursue the topic. Dorcas didn’t react well to her suggestions being contradicted. Hopefully being around more children her own age would cure her of that bad habit.

Simon and Darius hopped off the train and said their good-byes to Dorcas. It was a long and drawn-out affair, as most events were with the Meadowes family. Finally, Dorcas extracted herself from her mother’s arms and boarded the train. Going away from home for the first time was scary, but she had plenty of friends from her childhood who were starting Hogwarts too. In a few minutes, someone she knew would come by. School would be like a long sleepover, with less pleasant aspects like homework and Slytherins.

“Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit here?”

The voice belonged to a young girl with fiery red hair. She was dressed in her robes already, and from the lack of crest, Dorcas guessed that she was also a first-year. She looked pale under the freckles splayed across the bridge of her nose, and her brilliantly green eyes were darting around, taking in everything.

“Everywhere else is full,” the girl added apologetically.

“It’s no problem. I’m Dorcas Meadowes.”

“Lily Evans,” she replied, taking a seat.

An awkward silence fell between the two girls. Dorcas was trying to place the girl’s surname, but was coming up blank. She was probably, judging from her nervousness, a Muggle-born. Lily was studying Dorcas from the corner of her eye, wondering how in the world anyone could appear so calm while leaving home for half a year to attend a school of magic.

“Know what House you’ll be put in?” Dorcas prompted, deciding it would be a neutral topic.

“House? Ugh … no.” Lily shifted in her seat and tucked her hair behind her ears as she answered. “I don’t know anything about Hogwarts, not really.”

“Oh! Well, there are four Houses at Hogwarts. Hufflepuff is the best, but Gryffindor isn’t bad. You don’t want to be in Ravenclaw, they’re a bunch of snobs and know-it-alls. Since you’re Muggle-born … you are a Muggle-born, aren’t you? … you won’t be in Slytherin, lucky you.”

Lily laughed nervously. “Which House is for know-it-alls?”

Dorcas regarded the girl curiously, wondering if she was trying to be funny or was actually serious. Either way, she couldn’t hold back her laughter for more than a few seconds. Lily giggled a few times, but looked genuinely concerned.

“You don’t have anything to worry about. A Ravenclaw would have called me names and stomped out of the cabin all ready.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“My parents are wizards. They went to Hogwarts, and my aunts and uncles are almost all wizards, except for Aunt Margot and Aunt Alice who are Muggles. Oh, and Uncle Orion is a Squib, but we’re not supposed to talk about that. Mum says it’s impolite to mention it. We don’t do magic in front of him either, unless he asks us to levitate something or start a fire. Well, I don’t do magic, obviously, because I haven’t learned any. I’m really looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts. How about you?”

Lily was grinning by the time Dorcas stopped rambling and just barely containing her laughter. She didn’t understand half of what Dorcas had said, partly because she didn’t know magical terminology and partly because Dorcas was talking so rapidly.

“Well, I’ve looked through my textbooks,” Lily answered, still smiling. “I tried a few spells, but nothing much happened. I levitated an eraser a few millimeters off the table top.”

“You’re probably good at Charms then. I’m much better at defensive spells myself, and mum lets me help with household potions, nothing too complicated, but I’m fairly good when I pay attention.”

“I’m going to be so far behind,” Lily moaned, announcing her fear for the first time.

“If you can levitate anything at all, you’re well ahead of most first-years. Don’t worry about it. Besides, if you really need help, you can always ask me. I’ve watched my parents do loads of magic.”

“Thanks,” the redhead replied, looking very relived.

“No problem. That’s what friends are for.”

*~*~*

November, 1978

The second week after joining the Order of the Phoenix passed without incident. Dorcas woke up every morning and Apparated into the atrium of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Once there, she descended into the cool labyrinthine basement used for research and education. Healers in white robes bearing the St. Mungo’s emblem of the crossed wand and bone walked through the magically lit hallways, muttering to hands-free dictation quills about new remedies and the progress of patients. Experts in Herbology and Potions moved around freely, carrying odd assortments of cauldrons, vials, and exotic plants.

Dorcas paid dearly for missing the study group in Medicinal Potions, but when Healer Bones came around to inspect her Blood-Replenishing Potion, he gave her an A instead of the P she thought she deserved. He was a genial old man with pure white hair and a long, curling white moustache, but he graded impartially no matter how much he liked or disliked his students. On the sheet of parchment that listed her grade, Healer Bones had scribbled a message that read: Uncover the mystery. Curious, Dorcas turned over the parchment, but there was nothing there.

She glanced at the other trainee Healers sitting on either side of her. Jeremiah Abbott was absorbed with his potion, leaning so close to his cauldron that his nose was almost touching the liquid. The other student, whose name Dorcas couldn’t remember, was similarly absorbed in her potion that had turned acidic green and was bubbling over the sides of the cauldron.

“Aparecium!” Dorcas whispered, touching her wand tip to the parchment.

Healer Bones’s messy scrawl appeared on the page.

For directions, come to my office at six-thirty.

Dorcas tapped the message, making the ink invisible once again. She knew which directions Healer Bones would be giving her. She’d been waiting anxiously for a week to see Order headquarters. Healer Bones dismissed the class ten minutes later, deliberately avoiding Dorcas’s gaze as she passed by his desk.

She should have known that Edgar Bones had joined the Order. He had fought with Dumbledore against the last Dark wizard, Grindelwald. According to the stories, he had retired from his career as an Auror after that, preferring to save lives rather than take them. Dorcas wondered why Dumbledore hadn’t asked Healer Bones to set up the hospital ward at headquarters. He was a brilliant man and much more experienced than Dorcas. It wouldn’t take him over two hours, whereas Dorcas would likely be sneaking into the Practical Studies classroom for weeks to identify everything she would need.

The rest of the day passed painfully slowly. Healer Graham scolded her in Healing Charms for daydreaming instead of mending the broken femur on the skeleton standing in front of her desk. While she had been wondering about how big headquarters was and the most sanitary location for the hospital ward, the skeleton had walked out the door and frightened a passing Herbologist. In Muggle Remedies, Healer Jackson had flashed so many slides of microscopic viruses that Dorcas’s vision was blurry when she took her lunch break.

After the quick meal, she was forced to concentrate on the task at hand. Because she was training for the Creature Induced Injuries ward, she was taking a Care of Magical Creatures class to study their behavior and the various ways they might injure someone. The slithering, hissing Runespoor on the table top drove thoughts of the Order from her mind. She hated the smallest of snakes, but the vivid orange serpent that kept snapping at her fingers made rattlesnakes look cute.

Finally, after a fairly painless Medicinal Transfiguration lesson, Dorcas headed to the lifts with her classmates. In all, there were nine trainee Healers, three of whom had gone to Durmstrang and one from the Salem Witches Institute, who had come to England for a top-notch Healing education. She said good-bye in the Atrium and headed down the hallway beside the welcome witch’s desk to meet with Healer Bones.

By the time she reached the office, the straps of her bulging knapsack were digging into her shoulders. At least it wasn’t a Thursday, she thought. The Lycanthropy textbook was twice as heavy as her thickest Potions book, and she had to carry around An Advanced Guide to Magical Maladies, a hardcover, fifteen hundred-paged book, during her practical courses.

“Have a seat, Miss Meadowes,” Healer Bones smiled. “Shut the door, please.”

She did as he asked and eased into the plush chair beside his desk. The white walls were covered in diagrams of the human body and posters bearing catchphrases that reminded patients to only use approved antidotes and advertisements for magical vaccinations.

“I wasn’t surprised when Dumbledore told me you’d joined the Order. He asked me to show you to headquarters tonight. He’d like you to start working on the hospital wing this weekend.”

“Sir, if I can ask, why aren’t you setting up the hospital ward? You’d be much better at it than me.”

Healer Bones’s moustache twitched, but Dorcas couldn’t tell if it was from laughter or irritation. “I thought that would be obvious.” The aged Healer sighed quietly. “It’s a shame that such young people are forced to fight. When I was your age, there weren’t Dark wizards lurking around every corner.”

The old man checked his watch, giving Dorcas a moment to recover from the unexpected response and lack of a proper answer.

“Well, it’s about time. Grab your books. I made an exception today, but I won’t take Order business as an excuse not to study anymore.”

“Yes, sir.”

She hefted the bag onto her shoulder and followed Healer Bones down the hallway and towards the fire grates in the Atrium.

“We have to make this look as nonchalant as possible,” he explained. “Strictly speaking, the Ministry doesn’t allow groups like ours. They think we’re vigilantes who get in their way. That makes getting new members to headquarters a bit difficult. For today, you’ll have to suffer side-along Apparation. Unless you’ve got two broomsticks hidden in that backpack. Merlin, do we really give you that much work?”

“Today was a light day,” Dorcas laughed, hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder.

Healer Bones whistled and shook his head. As the Atrium was the only area of St. Mungo’s without Anti-Apparation wards, it was bustling with arriving and departing patients, visitors, and Healers. Healer Bones and Dorcas stepped into the center of a dense crowd of Herbologists leaving for the day so that no one would notice the side-along Apparation.

Next moment, they were standing in front of an upscale housing addition for rich Muggles. The fresh white sidewalk led through a brick archway with the words “Holly Falls” etched into the stone. A wide lane wound through the new community and past a manmade lake full of squawking ducks and several playgrounds full of children.

The house itself was invisible until Dorcas focused on the empty space between numbers sixteen and eighteen. A large brick house with a crisply painted front door and brass griffin knocker pushed the houses on either side out of the way. Lights twinkled through slits in the heavy white drapes and many black shadows passed in front of the large picture window to the left of the door.

They entered the house quickly, and Healer Bones recast the enchantments on the door to lock it. The house was entirely Muggle except for the broomsticks propped against the wall and the wizard hats hanging on the coat rack. Electric lights from overhead fixtures and glass sconces lit the otherwise dim hallway.

Healer Bones strode purposefully down the hall, bypassing the many rooms and people scattered around the house. One room they passed contained a long, black table, but no chairs. Another room was stacked from floor to ceiling with books. In the kitchen, various appliances and utensils were preparing tea and baking biscuits. The whole house looked like it had never been occupied except by the Order.

Two young wizards with flaming red hair were perched on stools around the island countertop in the center of the kitchen and drinking coffee, probably Irish coffee judging from their raucous conversation. Several feet away an older man stood scowling at them and muttering about hooligans. He was a scary sight, though Dorcas tried not to gawk at him. His face was heavily scarred, and when she and Healer Bones entered the kitchen, he stared at her with dark, beady eyes.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’m Dorcas Meadowes, sir. Pleased to meet you.”

She held out her hand, but the man just glared at it, as if it were a symbol of aggression rather than friendliness. He glanced over her shoulder at Healer Bones, who was smiling genially.

“Evening, Edgar,” the scarred man growled. “It’s been awhile since we’ve gone fishing.”

Healer Bones laughed shortly. “You don’t fish, Alastor. The last time I invited you, you thought Dark wizards might have poisoned the lake on the off chance you’d catch and eat a fish.”

The man called Alastor grinned, twisting his scarred face into a more frightening sight than it had been before. “You’re Edgar,” he said, as if Healer Bones had just asked his own name.

“May I introduce Dorcas Meadowes?” the Healer said politely. “Dorcas, this is Alastor Moody, an old friend and colleague.”

“Simon Meadowes’s daughter?” Moody wondered.

“Yes, sir.”

Moody surveyed her, squinting suspiciously as he did so. “Your dad’s got a right important job at the Ministry. Could be dangerous for your family, him working in the Department of Mysteries and all.”

In any other circumstance, Dorcas would have laughed at his paranoid antics, but standing under his beady gaze, laughing was not an option.

“Actually, sir, my father is a Hit Wizard for the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, as I’m sure you know.”

“Aye, I do know it. He’s a damn fine Hit Wizard, Simon Meadowes. I wasn’t happy to see him leave the Auror department, but he was the best man for the promotion.”

Moody turned back to his cup of tea, completely ending the conversation that Dorcas had thought was just beginning. Healer Bones had drifted over to the two redheaded wizards sometime during the introductions, leaving Dorcas alone without any idea of what she was supposed to be doing.

“That was actually really polite for Moody.”

Dorcas turned towards the voice. Sirius Black was leaning against the wall, looking like he had been there for a long time.

“You know him?” she asked.

“Yeah, he teaches a few of my classes. Concealment and Disguise and Tracking. He’s a bit off, but he knows his stuff.”

Dorcas had forgotten that Black was in Auror training. She only noticed the interlocking silver M’s, the emblem of the Ministry of Magic, on his black robes after he mentioned his classes.

“Lily’s upstairs,” Black continued. “She said there are a few rooms you might consider for the hospital ward.”

Dorcas followed Black back down the hallway and up the stairs. The second floor looked even more deserted than the ground floor. There were no light fixtures or mirrors, and the only furniture was an empty bookshelf and desk located in a small room. Someone, probably Lily, had charmed candles to float near the ceiling like in hallways at St. Mungo’s.

“Dorcas! I thought you’d never get here!” Lily exclaimed.

Dorcas let her knapsack fall off her shoulder. The bag collided with the wooden floor, and the resounding thud echoed off the high, bare walls of the room.

“Trust me, neither did I. Today was a very long day.”

She turned in a circle, surveying the room. It was large enough for five or six hospital beds with three windows facing east. A door opposite the biggest window led to the room with the desk and bookshelf, almost like it was meant to be used as an office. Doubtful as she was that she should be the one to set up the hospital ward, Dorcas felt a thrill of excitement when she thought about how to best arrange the room and where to store the potions and supplies.

“Medicinal Potions, Medicinal Charms, Muggle Remedies, Basic Transfiguration for Healers, Advanced Care of Magical Creatures,” Remus read, shifting through her books. “Exactly how many classes are you taking?”

“That’s not all of them,” Dorcas grinned. “There’s Herbology, Practicals, and my personal favorite, Lycanthropy.”

Remus grinned while he shoved the textbooks back into her bag. “You should be an expert in Lycanthropy.”

The Healer-in-Training laughed lightly. “Haven’t had to study all semester, thank you very much.”

Black made a sound in the back of his throat, clearly surprised that anyone besides himself, Potter, and Pettigrew would speak so lightly of Remus’s condition.

“Well, if all I was supposed to do is find a room, I should be getting home. I’ve a practical exam in the Creature Induced Injuries ward tomorrow.”

“Is that all you do? Study?” Black asked, indignation making him sound more arrogant than ever.

Dorcas turned towards him slowly, her eyes narrowed. Knowing that this couldn’t end well, Lily and Remus stepped between their friends.

“We should go too. I told James we’d meet him and Pete after their shift is over,” Lily said, ushering Dorcas out the door and down the hall.

“Pettigrew’s in the Order?” Dorcas asked, amazed that Dumbledore would let such a poor wizard join.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Black growled, trying to shrug off Remus, who had a vice grip on his arm.

“I only meant that I haven’t seen him since we graduated,” Dorcas replied acidly.

Lily practically dragged Dorcas out of the housing addition. Wards had been placed on the entire community, so they had to walk out of the gates to Disapparate.

“Can you come for dinner sometime this week, Dorcas? Mum said she’d love to have you,” Lily said, breaking the tension.

“I could make some time for your mum’s cooking.”

The group said their good-byes and Dorcas Apparated to the manor. Characteristically, her father had charmed the door to open only from the inside. After answering a question about her nickname for Darius, the door swung open. Dorcas made for the stairs, but her father’s clipped voice held her back.

“Where were you?”

“Out with some friends,” she replied easily. It wasn’t completely a lie. She had been with Lily and Remus.

Her father crossed his arms, staring at her coolly. He wanted to believe her, she could see it in his eyes, but in times like these, strange disappearances were suspicious. She wondered if she should tell him about the Order of the Phoenix, but decided that she should not. He had been a bit off ever since her mother and Calliope died. He’d always been overprotective of his daughters, but he’d gone to the extreme afterwards. He would tell Dorcas that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wouldn’t find out about her ability, and therefore, she wasn’t in immediate danger. Whether she was targeted or not, the damage she could do if she joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named--of her own volition or under the Imperius Curse--was too great and terrible to allow.

“I’d like to know in advance, Dorcas. Your classes ended three hours ago.”

She stifled a sigh. “I know you’re worried, Dad, but I’m an adult. If this is really going to be such a problem, maybe I should move back to London.”

She regretted her words immediately. They were too harsh, but the frustration had been building since September. She’d had two months of freedom while living in her flat in London, but then Darius had gone back to Hogwarts. Afraid that her father’s loneliness would drive him to unhealthy habits, Dorcas had moved back in with him, taking the entire upstairs as her own apartment.

Her father walked into the kitchen without saying another word. Torn between following him and studying for her exam, Dorcas let out a frustrated growl and stomped upstairs. With all of her homework, busy class schedule, and Order duties, she wasn’t going to be home very often. Her father would just have to understand. She had to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Before Dorcas knew it, the school week had ended and the weekend had flown by. Her test in Practical Studies had been a piece of cake compared to her other classes. True to his word, Healer Bones had not given her a break. He had given her Rejuvenation Juice a P and made it very clear that any student receiving three P’s would be in danger of failing the final exam. She now had extra homework for both the Blood-Replenishing Potion and for the Rejuvenation Juice. She had never received any grade less than an A, and feeling like an idiot was grating on her nerves.

Thursday night came quicker than she had imagined it would. At four forty-five, she said good-night to her father. She felt his accusing stare as she walked out the front door. He suspected something. She just hoped he thought she was doing something frivolous like meeting up with a boyfriend. If it weren’t for the anti-Apparation wards, she would have avoided him altogether, but she had to leave through the front door.

She knew he was only worried about her, but she would be nineteen-years-old soon. She had been an adult for a full two years and didn’t feel like she had to explain her every move to him. It was only dinner at Lily’s house, but it was the principle of the matter.

She turned sharply and appeared the next moment in suburban community just north of Somerset. After ten minutes of walking, Dorcas began passing the familiar houses lining Apperson High Street.

The Evans’s house was still decorated for Halloween. Three soggy carved pumpkins were perched on the steps and orange tassels hung inside the window frame. She half-expected Lily to have charmed the doorbell to play scary music.

Lily’s dad opened the door a moment later and invited Dorcas in, inquiring about her health and her studies as he took her cloak. He looked older than Dorcas remembered. She had heard her parents whispering about her Aunt Margot and about how Muggles didn’t live as long as wizards. The idea put knots into Dorcas’s stomach.

“Make yourself at home,” Dr. Evans said genially, entering the drawing room. “James and I were just setting up a game of wizard’s chess. Those chessmen are something, aren’t they? Moving and taking orders … or refusing to take orders.”

Dorcas tried her best not to roll her eyes, but it was a natural reaction where James Potter was concerned. She followed Dr. Evans into the room, steeling herself for a much less enjoyable night than she had planned on.

“Dorcas, you know James and Sirius, right?” Dr. Evans asked, oblivious to the young woman’s scowl.

She should have known Potter wouldn’t go anywhere without his sidekick. Resigning herself to the situation, she plopped onto the couch as far away from Black as possible while Potter and Dr. Evans sat on opposite sides of the coffee table, wrestling the chessmen onto the board.

“You’ve got to be forceful, Dr. Evans,” Black suggested. “They’ll know you’re a Muggle if you don’t take charge.”

Instantly, all the chessmen began sputtering about being used by a Muggle.

“Good one, dumbass,” Dorcas muttered.

The smile melted off of Black’s lips. “What’s your problem, Meadowes?” he demanded.

The bickering sure to follow was cut off by Lily announcing dinner. Dorcas fairly glared at her best friend as they walked into the dining room and took their seats. Much to her chagrin, Dorcas was stuck sitting next to Black. The one and only time she had voluntarily sat next to him, he had tried to feel her up. She gripped her fork tightly, prepared to stab him if his hands strayed anywhere near her.

“Petunia’s not coming?” Mrs. Evans asked, looking around the table, as if she’d just noticed her oldest daughter missing.

“She had other plans,” Dr. Evans answered.

“You mean she didn’t want to see me,” Lily replied coldly.

“Us,” Potter corrected.

Dorcas clamped her mouth shut, not about to give Black and Potter reason to annoy her more. She’d never had a problem with Petunia. Of course, Lily’s older sister distained anyone magical, but Dorcas thought that was probably because she was jealous. Her Uncle Orion was like that sometimes, when someone did particularly impressive magic in front of him.

Dr. Evans wanted to know all about Healer training. He was a Muggle Healer and was fascinated by magical medicine. Dorcas thought she saw Black rolling his eyes once when she was discussing her study schedule, so she not-so-subtly kicked him in the calf. He shot her even more dirty glares after that.

Potter was amazingly good-natured during the meal. He barely talked about himself at all or messed up his hair anymore than it already was. She didn’t care what Lily said, in seventh-year he had tortured just as many students as he had during all of their other years. Unfortunately, he had been Head Boy and Dorcas couldn’t take points away from him for it. But she had taken plenty of points from Black. In fact, just enough so that Hufflepuff won the House Cup.

“What are you doing for the Order?” Mrs. Evans asked Black and Dorcas. “If you can tell us. I understand if you can’t, but … well, we’re worried about all of you, being so young and fighting Dark wizards.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Evans,” Black answered. “I’m standing guard mostly.”

Dorcas was amazed that Lily had told her parents about the Order. Her own father wouldn’t have understood the necessity of it and he was a Hit Wizard.

“I’m setting up a hospital ward at Headquarters.”

Dr. Evans almost choked on his meatloaf. “What!? Don’t you have a magical hospital?”

“We do,” Potter cut in. “Dumbledore’s just afraid that, one day, it won’t be safe to go there.”

Mrs. Evans made a high-pitched sound in the back of her throat and covered her mouth with one hand. She looked near tears.

“And you’re setting this up?” she wondered, looking at Dorcas. “But you’ve so little experience.”

“I know,” Dorcas admitted, uncomfortable self-doubt settling into her stomach again.

“There’s just no one else,” Potter said. He glanced down the table at Dorcas. “No offense, you’re clever and all, I didn’t mean you’re not.”

Dorcas gaped at him while he continued talking. She lifted a finger to her ear and rubbed. Surely she had heard wrong, but she thought Potter had just complimented someone other than himself for doing something other than hexing Severus Snape.

“Edgar Bones offered to do it, but Dumbledore needs all the Aurors we’ve got. Benjy Fenwick has gone missing, and he was our spy inside the Death Eaters.”

Dorcas was getting the impression that Potter had been in the Order a lot longer than she had. Perhaps the group meeting with Dumbledore hadn’t been an orientation speech at all. She wondered how long Lily and Remus had been working for Dumbledore and why he had waited until October to ask her to join.

“How about some dessert?” Lily asked, breaking the tension.

Dorcas was grateful for the change of topic. She didn’t want to dwell on all the death and destruction that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was causing. She was in the Muggle world when she was at the Evans’s, and while that was no guarantee of safety, it was a comfort.

“I’ll help,” Dorcas said, following Lily into the kitchen.

She made sure the door between the rooms was shut before approaching the counter space where Lily was cutting pumpkin pie.

“You think you’re being funny? Shuffling the seats so I have to sit next to the Sirius the Sidekick?”

Lily laid down the knife and clamped a hand over her mouth. She turned to check the door before letting herself laugh out loud. Dorcas’s seriousness melted away, and she chuckled with her best friend. She missed the days when they would walk through the corridors of Hogwarts Castle making fun of Potter and Black.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Lily laughed, wiping the tears away from her brilliantly green eyes. “And I didn’t know they were coming. They just showed up, and since they’re my boyfriend and his best friend ….” She looked pointedly at Dorcas before turning back to the pie.

“I know, I know. It’s just … Lily, you know how much I dislike the way they act.”

Lily grinned widely. “Oh, my sweet Dorcas! Always disliking and disapproving of behavior, never loathing or condemning the person.” The redhead laughed at her friend’s frown. “It’s a Hufflepuff thing I guess.”

Dorcas pulled a stack of small plates from the cabinet and handed them to Lily. “I just don’t know what you see in Potter.”

“James,” Lily corrected lightly. “You should give him and Sirius another chance. They’re different than we thought.”

“So you say.”

“What proof do you have that they’re the same immature boys who put Exploding Chalk in Professor McGonagall’s desk?”

An involuntary smile crept onto Dorcas’s lips. Whether she liked to admit it or not, some of the Marauder’s pranks were ingenious. On the other hand, she had plenty of proof that Potter and Black hadn’t changed. She had seen them torturing Snape so many times during seventh-year, but just like then, Dorcas couldn’t find it in her heart to tell Lily the truth. She would be crushed that Potter hadn’t really changed. As long as he treated Lily like a Princess, Dorcas could survive being around him and his stupid sidekick.

“None,” she mumbled.

After dessert and a lively game of wizard’s chess between Potter and Dr. Evans, Dorcas said good-night. She had had so much fun watching Dr. Evans argue with the chessmen that she’d lost track of the time. Surprisingly, Black said he should be getting home as well. Dorcas didn’t think he would be one to care much about attending early classes. She had him pegged as the student who slept in the back of the class, like he had mostly done at Hogwarts.

“Why don’t you just Apparate from inside the house,” Mrs. Evans said, glancing out the front window. “It’s so late, and you never know who could be watching.”

“You don’t have Anti-Apparation wards on the house?” Potter asked, looking alarmed.

Lily looked at her parents apologetically. “Of course we do. I cast them the moment I turned seventeen.”

Dr. and Mrs. Evans looked stunned that Lily had taken such precautions without telling them. Dorcas understood her concern, though. As a Muggle-born, Lily was in danger, but at least she knew it. Her parents probably hadn’t thought a Dark wizard would bother the Muggle world much.

“Owl me with your schedule,” Lily said, hugging Dorcas good-bye. “We need to get together more often.”

“I’ll send Isis tomorrow morning.”

It was a long, painful walk to the outskirts of town where Dorcas and Black could Disapparate without being seen. Dorcas couldn’t think of anything she had in common with Black. During the one day they’d spent together in fourth-year, she hadn’t learned anything about him except that she didn’t like him.

“I thought you wanted to be an Auror,” Black said finally, breaking the heavy silence.

“I did, but I changed my mind during second term of last year.”

“Why?”

Dorcas bristled at the simple question. That wasn’t really any of his business, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t guess. They had been in all the same classes for sixth- and seventh-year. Had he really not heard Professor Sprout tell her that her mother and sister had been murdered? Had he not noticed that she’d missed two weeks of school? Even if he hadn’t, Darius had been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with Black. He’d missed a game, and Black would have never failed to notice a missing Seeker. Or did he just not realize that Darius was her brother? For whatever reason he was asking, he was still an idiot.

“Mind your own business.” It came out harsher than she intended. The stiff words didn’t suit her soft voice.

“It’s just a question, Meadowes. Merlin. You’d think I asked you your deepest, darkest secret.”

“Maybe you did.”

The words came out before Dorcas could stop them. It wasn’t really her darkest secret, but it was close in line. Black was staring at her with his head cocked to one side. His eyes were tracing the soft features of her face, but for the first time, Dorcas didn’t think he was imagining how best to seduce her. It made her strangely uncomfortable seeing this deeper side of Black.

“So, why did you decide to become an Auror?” she asked, adverting her gaze from Black’s.

“That’s my darkest secret.”

Her head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowed and a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “Are you mocking me?” she demanded.

Black looked down at the blacktop and shook his head slowly. “No.”

Dorcas turned her attention back to the black windows of the houses lining the street. She had no doubt that he was telling the truth.

There was something deeper to Black’s arrogance, and even if he wouldn’t tell her what it was, at least she knew it was there. Somehow, it made him seem more human to know that hexing Snape and snogging girls wasn’t his whole life. If there was one thing she could understand, it was burying darker emotions. She had been doing it for nearly six years with Occlumency. It was difficult and painful, but necessary, to compartmentalize her feelings and stuff them away. To know that Black had been doing the same thing endeared him to her, even while she was disgusted with the way he had done it.

They said a quick good-bye as they reached a less populated area and Disapparated to their separate locations. Dorcas hurriedly cast the charm to reveal the new wards on the front door and deactivated them before stepping inside and recasting the charms.

When she entered her study, she sat down at her desk and pulled a pile of parchment towards her. Diagrams of the hospital ward, shopping lists, and notes on which reference books to put in the office filled every page in the stack. She added a few more notes that her conversation with Dr. Evans had reminded her of. She was no expert in Muggle remedies, but she thought band-aids sounded interesting enough to think about keeping some on hand.

When she looked up from her description of band-aids, she eyed the pile of textbooks next to the desk. Wearily, she hefted Understanding Lycanthropy off the floor and flipped to chapter thirteen. In less than four hours, she would be sitting in Lycanthropy and then going to the greenhouses for Herbology. It was going to be a difficult day, but when she thought about completing the hospital ward, she knew it was worth it. Any discomfort working for the Order caused was better than the unease Dorcas felt when she wasn’t doing anything to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.


Chapter 3 - The Id, The Ego, and Sirius Black

October Twilight
Chapter Three
“The Id, the Ego, and Sirius Black”

May 27th, 1974
4th Year

The sun had just barely risen above the horizon when Dorcas stormed into the library. She had been unable to sleep all night. Her fourteen-year-old brain had been buzzing since Defense Against the Dark Arts class the previous day. At first, she had been horrified by the things Professor Clancy had said. When she left class, she became consumed by guilt. She knew she should have spoken up in class, but she had been too afraid of what Professor Clancy and her classmates might say.

As the night wore on, Dorcas’s concentration slipped away from her homework and the conversations going on in the Hufflepuff Common Room. All she could think about was how cowardly she was for sitting back and letting him teach the class such deplorable, hateful things. When she thought about Remus, one of her closest friends, sitting in that awful class, listening to what Clancy had to say about werewolves, she became angry. Very angry. At Professor Clancy for teaching that werewolves were evil, at Professor Dumbledore for hiring him, at the Ministry for truly believing the curriculum, and most of all, at herself for letting Clancy speak negatively about her friend.

At three in the morning, Dorcas had gotten out of bed, gathered her Defense books, and went into the common room. She took notes on every reference to lycanthropy in the book, but she wasn’t satisfied with the answers she found there. The book and Clancy said that werewolves were Dark creatures because their blood had been tainted. She had never heard such a ridiculous argument in her life, and she was going to find facts to disprove those belligerent, arrogant wizards who actually believed it.

Two hours later, every book in the library on lycanthropy was piled up around Dorcas. She had even managed to convince Professor Sprout to give her a pass to the Restricted Section. The Herbology professor had been reluctant, but when Dorcas told her candidly about what she was trying to do, Sprout had positively beamed at her student.

Dorcas had filled three rolls of parchment with notes and citations. She was disgruntled to find that over half of her notes detailed the Dark qualities of werewolves. Sure, there were some feral werewolves who terrorized villages because they didn’t know any better, but there were also werewolves like Remus, who did all they could to make sure they didn’t hurt anyone.

She flipped through One-Hundred and One Myths About Lycanthropy, frowning as she did so. All her evidence that suggested werewolves could be civil and peaceful had to do with her experiences with Remus, and she would never use him to prove a point. There had to be something more conclusive in one of these books. She would just have to keep looking.

“What are you doing?”

Dorcas jumped a foot in the air, tipping over her ink bottle in the process. Lily Evans climbed over a stack of books that Dorcas had piled in the center of the aisle and sat on the floor beside her best friend. On her other side, Remus Lupin did the same.

“Madam Pince is going to kill you,” Remus laughed.

While Dorcas was busy cleaning up the ink with her wand, Lily picked up the parchment half-filled with Dorcas’s latest notes, and Remus hefted a book off the ground. It was so old that the gold title had completely peeled away except for a single letter A. His face paled as he flipped open the cover.

“Why are you taking notes about werewolves?” Lily asked, shifting through more rolls of parchment.

Dorcas froze, half-bent over the ink stain on the carpet. She glanced at Remus, who looked like he was about to be sick. Dumbledore had forbidden her to use her ability, but she had to know. She gazed directly into Remus’s eyes and gently pushed into his mind. She saw a fuzzy image of Remus telling Lily that he had to visit his sick aunt.

“Because of that bastard Clancy,” she said, looking apologetically at Remus.

She hadn’t wanted to mention it in front of him. It must have been painful for him to listen to Clancy say all of those terrible things. He dropped his eyes, studying the faded yellow pages of the book in his lap.

“I’m going to prove that werewolves aren’t all bad. In fact, some of them are better citizens and friends than most witches and wizards,” Dorcas continued, very matter-of-factly.

She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Lily said anything bad about werewolves in front of Remus. If she did, it would be all Dorcas’s fault, not that she thought Lily would say anything bad about anyone other than James Potter. Still, as a Muggle-born, she only knew what was taught to her at Hogwarts.

“You know,” Lily began, glancing down at the parchment in her lap, “I don’t see why Clancy was so militant yesterday. Muggles are fascinated with werewolves. There are movies and novels and songs about them. I mean, that they’re real is a bit scary, to be honest. But it’s not like they asked for it. From what the books says transformation is very painful. Who would want that? And the way wizards discriminate against them is just wrong.”

By the end of her comments, both Remus and Dorcas were grinning ear-to-ear. Lily glanced between them, not sure what she could have said to make Remus so happy.

“How are you going to prove it, though?” Lily continued. “It’s not like too many people are going to listen to a fourteen-year-old.”

“I haven’t gotten there yet,” she admitted.

A moment later Madam Pince came bustling around the corner with a stack of books that needed shelving floating beside her. When she saw her precious books piled on the floor and an ink stain on the carpet, she went berserk. She waved her wand threateningly and screeched at Lily, Remus, and Dorcas to get out of the library and stay out for the rest of the week.

The three fourth-years skidded into the hallway, tumbling over Dorcas’s knapsack and rolls of parchment that had been thrown from the library. Laughingly uncontrollably, they gathered up the materials and scuttled away. They ended up under the tree by the lake, still laughing and clutching their sides.

“She … is … going … to give … us … detention for … the rest of … the school year,” Remus said, between laughs.

Dorcas, who was wiping the tears away from her eyes, began giggling again. It was another twenty minutes before they all stopped laughing, and for the next hour they broke into intermittent fits of laughter.

“I’ve got an idea!” Lily said, triumphantly. “You could protest using civil disobedience!”

“Civil disobedience?” Remus asked. “Is that another one of your funny Muggle inventions?”

“It’s been done in Muggle history, but I’m sure wizards have done it too. If Binns would teach about more than giant wars and goblin revolts we might know. When Muggles think something unjust is happening, sometimes they’ll use non-violent resistance, like sit-ins and hunger strikes. It’ll be like Gandhi, but at Hogwarts!”

“Gandhi?” Dorcas questioned.

“Yeah, Mahatma Gandhi. He’s really famous in Muggle history. I think you’d really like him, Dorcas. He said, ‘An eye for an eye and the whole world will go blind’.”

Dorcas’s face lit up. “I do like him! Tell me more.”

The rest of the day passed by normally, but that was all about to change sooner than Lily and Remus could have guessed. It happened at sixty-thirty that evening, when nearly all the students were in the Great Hall for dinner.

Dorcas took a deep breath, steeling her nerves. She pushed aside her empty plate and goblet and stood up from her seat. Her hands were shaking, and she could already feel the heat in her cheeks. She placed one foot on the bench and resolutely climbed onto the table.

The chatter in the Great Hall died slowly. The Hufflepuffs were the first table to stop eating and stare at her. Dorcas faced the High Table where the professors, trying her best to ignore the many pairs of eyes looking in her direction. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, on either side of the Hufflepuff table, quieted down next, gazing curiously at her. Finally, the Slytherins, noticing the lack of noise, turned their attention to Dorcas.

At the High Table, the Professors displayed varying degrees of shock. McGonagall looked scandalized, Sprout looked furious, and Slughorn looked exceptionally pleased. All of them were gazing between Dorcas and Dumbledore. The Headmaster surveyed his student with sparkling eyes.

“You wish to say something, Miss Meadowes?” he asked.

“I do, sir,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly.

“Then you might want to speak up,” he advised.

Dorcas took another deep breath and glanced furtively at the Gryffindor table. Remus’s jaw was hanging open, but Lily was grinning widely and nodded her encouragement.

“Yesterday, something deplorable happened inside Hogwarts Castle,” Dorcas began. When her fellow students remained silent, she continued, somewhat heartened. “A professor made a student feel worthless and guilty. We are here to learn magic, not to learn self-hate. I will not sit back and let my values and my decisions be disgraced by the opinions of one professor and the curriculum imposed upon us by the Ministry of Magic any longer. Yesterday, superiority of pure blood was taught in a classroom inside this castle, and that cannot be tolerated.”

The Slytherin students began whispering, but Dorcas ignored them. This speech wasn’t for them. She knew they would never go along with her ideas anyway.

“If you actually believe that the blood that runs through our veins determines our destiny, then stop listening now. But if you, like me, believe that it is our choices that define us, stand up and say that you do not want lessons like this to continue. If you believe that all beings are equal, stand up and say so. Tell Professor Clancy, Professor Dumbledore, and the Ministry of Magic that you do not want to learn about superiority of blood!”

Whispering broke out all over the Great Hall. By this time, the fourth-years had figured out what Dorcas was talking about and were spreading the subject matter up and down the House tables. The Slytherins were the loudest of all, many of them yelling at Dorcas to sit down.

“If you want to change the way we treat our fellow magical creatures, then you have to take a stand now.”

Her following sentence was drowned out by the jeering Slytherins.

“Sonorous!” Dorcas whispered, pointing her wand at her throat. Her next words were ten times louder than her normal voice and echoed off the stone walls. “And if you’re a Slytherin, you can piss off!”

The whole Hall went silent and nearly every student turned towards the teachers to see how they would react. Calmly, Dorcas cast the countercharm and her voice returned to normal.

“From this point on, the Association for Werewolf Equality will be staging a sit-in in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom until such a time as the bigoted material is removed from the curriculum. Anyone interested in joining A.W.E., please follow me.”

Dorcas climbed off the table and walked out of the Great Hall, ignoring the whispers and gazes that followed her retreating back. She was sure that Lily would follow her, but she didn’t know if her speech would affect anyone else. She wasn’t even sure that Remus would come, as he wanted to protect his secret. To her great surprise, there was a lot of excited chatter behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a handful of students were coming to the Defense classroom with her.

Lily was leading the group and beaming with pride. The Marauders followed behind her, Remus trying not to look conspicuous though he stood head and shoulders above the crowd. Two first-year Hufflepuffs and Louis Lovegood trailed behind the Gryffindors. That wasn’t a great deal of students considering the size of Hogwarts, but it was more than Dorcas had counted on.

“You should have told me you were doing this for Remus,” Lily whispered. “It about killed him to explain it to me this afternoon.”

Dorcas glanced over her shoulder at Remus, who was trying to keep a grin on his face while James and Sirius excitedly explained the student protest to Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar.

Dorcas fell into step with her best friend. “It’s not just for him. It’s for everyone like him who isn’t brave enough to tell their friends or don’t have any friends to tell.”

“Hell yes!”

Dorcas glanced over her shoulder to see that Sirius Black and James Potter had uttered the exclamation in unison, having heard her comment. She laughed; suddenly very happy that she had taken the leap and did what she knew was right.

At the Defense classroom, Lily performed some excellent Charms work and unlocked the heavily guarded doors. When everyone was inside, Dorcas waved her wand several times, causing all of the desks to line themselves up against the wall. She eased herself onto the floor and the others followed, forming a circle in the center of the room.

“What are we going to do tomorrow morning when there are classes?” one of the first-years asked.

“There aren’t going to be classes tomorrow or any day until the Administration is ready to make some concessions,” Dorcas answered.

“Oh,” the girl said, nodding. “I see.”

Dorcas sealed the door shut, and Lily charmed it to only open for Professor Dumbledore. The night passed uneventfully. Louis Lovegood took several quotes from Dorcas, which he promised to publish in the school newspaper, and James transfigured several old cloaks hanging in the closet into sleeping bags and pillows around midnight.

“This is really brave, Dorcas. We could get expelled,” Sirius whispered. Several similar conversations were occurring around the room.

“Wouldn’t it be worth it? To make a difference? To prove our loyalties?”

“Absolutely. You know, if we ever get out this room, we should go to Hogsmeade.”

“What? All of us? Why?”

Sirius laughed lightly. “I think you’re a little too book smart for you own good. I meant you and me.”

“Oh.” Dorcas was very glad that all the lights were out, because her cheeks were burning and she was grinning stupidly. “Yeah, that would fun.”

“Great. Next Hogsmeade weekend after werewolves have been declared equal at Hogwarts, it’s just you and me.”

“Way to go, Sirius, mate,” James said. “Now can you shut-up so the rest of us can go to sleep?”

Dorcas buried her face in her pillow, suddenly aware of how quiet it was in the room. On her other side, Lily turned over to face Dorcas.

“Traitor,” she murmured.

“You really expected me to turn down Sirius? Are you kidding?”

“Well, I turn down Potter all the time.”

“Yeah, but Sirius is hotter than James.”

Everyone in the room began laughing, all except for James. Dorcas, only just realizing how loudly she had been talking, buried herself in her sleeping bag. A strong hand closed around her upper arm and Sirius leaned very close to her ear.

“You’re not too difficult to look at either,” he whispered.

Dorcas fell asleep in complete ecstasy. Her sit-in was underway, she had good number of people willing to support it, Sirius Black had finally asked her on a date, and he thought she was pretty. It just couldn’t get any better.

The protestors were awoken the following morning by Professor Clancy banging on the doors. Lily’s charm had worked wonderfully. The doors wouldn’t budge when Professor McGonagall came to collect her students or when Professor Flitwick came just to congratulate Lily on her Charms work.

“Well done, Miss Evans! I can’t even Confund them! Twenty points to Gryffindor!” he squeaked, and the Gryffindors cheered.

Defense classes had to be cancelled that day because Professor Clancy had left all of his lesson plans, homework to be handed back, and his wand in his desk. The day was spent practicing dueling, pulling pranks, and singing raucous drinking songs the bartender of the Hog’s Head had taught the Marauders. At mealtimes house-elves sent by Dumbledore appeared with trays of food.

The routine continued the following day, complete with Professor Clancy banging angrily on the doors. Well after dinner on the second day, the doors swung open soundlessly. The protesting students were in the middle of learning how to transfigure a quill into a dungbomb (taught by James, of course) when the Headmaster appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Filch will insist that quills be banned from Hogwarts,” he said calmly.

Dorcas slipped her wand back into her robes and stepped forward. Dumbledore regarded her for a moment, a slight smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eye.

“The Administration is ready to negotiate. Professor Clancy and Professor Sprout are waiting in my office. Who will be the witnesses for the Association for Werewolf Equality?”

“Lily and Remus,” Dorcas said promptly.

The three students and Headmaster walked quickly through the halls. In the Head’s Office, Professor Sprout was perched on a chintz armchair, but Professor Clancy was pacing the room and scowling.

Dorcas walked past him with her head held high and took the seat next to Professor Sprout. She glanced at her Head of House, wondering exactly how severe her punishment would be. She was surprised to see the professor grinning.

“Well done,” she whispered. “Like Helga Hufflepuff herself!”

“Did you put her up to this?” Clancy demanded, advancing at Remus. “I was only telling the truth!”

“Professor!” Dumbledore cried, fire flashing in his eyes. “You are out of line. I dare say Miss Meadowes will not give your classroom back for some time if you insult Mr. Lupin again.”

Dorcas glanced at Remus. He looked like the satisfaction of the past two days had worn off. She turned back to Dumbledore, who was sitting at his desk calmly.

“You have named all of your terms, I suppose?”

Dorcas nodded. “I have.”

“This Administration agrees. It has been decided that this year, and every year hereafter, during the lessons on lycanthropy, you may teach one class during which you can express your views, so long as they are based in fact or coherent philosophy. Do you agree?”

“I agree,” Dorcas said, smiling.

The students stood up from their chairs and headed towards the door. Dorcas was anxious to tell the students still in the Defense classroom that they had succeeded.

“Oh, and Miss Meadowes,” Dumbledore said. She turned around, expecting at least a month’s worth of detentions. “Fifty points to Hufflepuff.”

*~*~*

December, 1978

Over the next few weeks, Dorcas’s life settled into a somewhat predictable routine that she felt comfortable with. Healer training became more difficult as the semester progressed, but she had expected that. She adapted to the increased workload as any serious student did: by reading textbooks while eating lunch and buying a top-notch dictation quill so that she could do her homework while in the shower and walking through the corridors of St. Mungo’s.

The Order of the Phoenix hadn’t had an official meeting, but assignments had been passed onto to Dorcas through Healer Bones and Lily. Dorcas’s responsibilities had increased greatly during the six weeks she had been a member of the Order.

The hospital ward was almost complete. The cabinets were stocked with potions ingredients, and she and Lily had spent an entire week brewing everything from Sleeping Draughts to Numbing Tonics. Lily had left the more advanced medical potions for Dorcas, but she appreciated the company nonetheless. The chest of drawers between each bed were filled with supplies, privacy screens put into place, and the ward charmed to be sound-proof. The small room next to the ward had become something of an office for Dorcas, who spent a week arranging the reference books and setting up a filing system.

One night while she was writing an essay about the dangers of using transfigured medical items, a brilliantly white stag-Patronus appeared in her study. The Patronus belonged to Potter, and although Dorcas had received many similar messengers, she had never received one from Potter, nor had she ever expected to. She was friends with Lily and Remus and was getting along with Black better, but she and Potter were still ignoring one another as they had done all through their school years.

He asked her to come to Holly Falls, but didn’t say why in the message. As she found out upon arriving at headquarters, the request was a result of an injury Lily had received doing secret business for the Order.

“Merlin!” Dorcas exclaimed, as she entered the hospital ward.

She stopped dead in her tracks, staring horrified at Lily. She was pale and unconscious, and the fabric of her robes around her left shoulder had been ripped and badly burnt. Dark blood seeped freely from the wound, despite Potter’s best attempts to staunch the flow. He leapt up from his place when he saw Dorcas, and Black turned sharply, startled by her sudden entry. Black didn’t look much better than Lily. His face was pale and dirty, and he had a long, deep gash on the side of his face.

“What do you need?” Potter asked. He spoke rapidly and his voice was high-pitched.

Dorcas physically shook herself out of her trance. She had almost completed her first semester of practical courses, but she had never been trained to see her best friend bleeding to death.

“I … uh … I need ….” Dorcas swallowed thickly, her eyes traveling back to Lily.

James was waiting anxiously. Moisture glistened in his hazel eyes as he followed Dorcas’s line of sight. She was struck by how powerless he looked, and she knew she had made the right decision in never telling Lily about how he and Black had harassed Snape throughout seventh-year.

“I need,” Dorcas began again, “Blood-Replenishing Potion, the Sinduela Potion labeled ‘two dash three,’ warm water, towels, and bandages.”

She hurried over to Lily’s bed, pulling out her wand. Black had produced the towels and bandages from the chest of drawers and was filling the porcelain basin on the chest with water from his wand. Dorcas waved her wand deftly, performing the charm she had practiced many times.

“Claudio Corpus!”

The wound sealed for a moment, but split open again before any of the blood could be cleaned away. Potter stood behind Dorcas, watching her perform the charm again. He thrust the potion bottles in her direction, wordlessly motioning to the reopened wound. Dorcas paused, not knowing what to do. After trying the charm twice more, she did the only thing she could think of.

“Expecto Loci Patronum!”

Her silver deer shot from the room. Hopefully, Healer Bones would be able to come quickly. She handed Black and Potter wet towels and told them to put pressure on the wound while she used a Severing Charm to cut away the fabric around the wound. Lily’s skin was tinged purple, as if a spell had embedded itself into her skin.

“What spell did this?” she asked.

Black shook his head. “I was too busy ducking the Killing Curses. Prongs?”

Potter also shook his head. “I got there after she was already unconscious. I grabbed her and Disapparated.”

Dorcas looked up sharply at Black. “What were you and Lily doing together?”

He bristled at the implication, but answered through clenched teeth. “Standing guard in Hogsmeade, if you must know.”

A cold chill passed down Dorcas’s spine. If Dumbledore had Order members in Hogsmeade, then Hogwarts wasn’t the safe haven she had always thought it was. Darius could be in danger, her father was a Hit Wizard hunting Death Eaters every day, and Dorcas had joined the Order. It was possible that no one in her family would survive the war.

When Healer Bones arrived, he ordered Black and Potter out of the room. The latter protested, but Black pulled him out of the hospital ward.

“We’ll only be in their way,” he said soothingly. “It’ll be faster if we wait outside.”

Healer Bones sealed the wound in no time while Dorcas measured out the potions and prepared the bandages. The old man looked troubled by the injury, especially when Dorcas asked him what had inflicted it.

“The Curse of Marked Death. It’s a unique curse, one that is designed to cause death only after severe physical pain. No one has yet figured out the incantation, not even Dumbledore, because he will not experiment with Dark magic, but he did find a cure.”

“Sir, if no one has figured out the incantation, then how did someone cast it on Lily?”

“You misunderstand, Miss Meadowes. No one but the inventor of the curse knows the incantation. It’s his trademark, a way for the whole world to know who marked the victim for punishment. He only uses it when he would prefer the person to remain alive, because he has a purpose for him or her.”

“So … who hurt Lily?”

Healer Bones looked away from Dorcas to study Lily’s pale face. “Voldemort.”

Even weeks later, Dorcas couldn’t deny that the incident was still troubling her. Without so much as a completed semester of training, she was now on Healing duty for the Order. It seemed that the Aurors-in-training were being similarly used. Every time she saw Alice Hall, Frank Longbottom, or Black, they had bandages in new places.

She began spending more time at headquarters than at her own home. Her father had grown increasingly suspicious of her late-night disappearances. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw him gazing intently at her left forearm on several occasions. She wanted so badly to assure him that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn’t know about her ability and that she hadn’t joined the Death Eaters of her own volition or under the Imperius Curse, but joining the Order of the Phoenix wouldn’t be much better in his eyes. All he would register was that his daughter was putting herself in harm’s way.

It was true that Dumbledore was relying more heavily upon the younger members than anyone had anticipated, possibly even himself. Despite his decision not to become an Auror, Potter was second in dueling only to the experienced Aurors like Moody and Healer Bones. Being inside the Ministry every day, and yet going unnoticed for the most part, the trainee Aurors were in an excellent position to gather information.

Dorcas also had been asked to gather what intelligence she could. Healer Bones had instructed her to approach the foreign students and gage their reactions to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, particularly the Durmstrang graduates. She was attending more study sessions than ever, just to listen in on gossip.

As Christmas approached and final exams drew closer, Dorcas felt more fatigued than she had in seven years at Hogwarts. Between cramming for the hardest finals she had ever taken, working for the Order, and visiting Lily to check on her healing progress, Dorcas didn’t have a moment of free time. She was working on three hours of sleep a night and was relying heavily on her dictation quill to write out her homework while she was in the shower and even during meals.

Dorcas tossed down her quill and slammed Understanding Lycanthropy shut. Her eyes itched with tiredness, and this book was reminding her of how little she had seen of Remus since graduation. When she thought about Remus, she thought about Lily, and all the fun times the three prefects had spent together at Hogwarts while their other friends were practicing Quidditch or sitting in detention.

She was frustrated and worrying constantly about Lily. She had been contemplating what to do for two weeks, but she wasn’t overly thrilled with her conclusions. Finally, unable to sit at her desk doing nothing any longer, Dorcas slipped out of the house and walked to the gate surrounding Meadowes Manor.

She Apparated into the last place she ever thought she would see again. Godric’s Hollow hadn’t changed much since Dorcas attended Potter’s tenth birthday party. The old homes reflected an earlier period in history than Meadowes Manor did. Yellow electric light leaked out of small, box-shaped windows and shiny automobiles sat in most driveways.

In contrast, the Potter’s home looked like a palace among cottages. She guessed that the family had made magical renovations during the Victorian era because of the sweeping ceilings and elaborately fluted woodwork. Steeling herself, Dorcas walked up the street, keeping the house in her vision.

The door opened after Dorcas pulled the bell for the second time, just when she was about to Apparate home. She was surprised, but felt that she shouldn’t have been, to see that Black had answered the door. The gash on the side of his face had healed and he wasn’t sporting any fresh bandages.

“Meadowes,” he said, equally surprised to see her standing on Potter’s front steps. “Lily is at her parents’ place.”

“I know. I am her Healer,” Dorcas answered, natural sarcasm kicking in. “I’m here to see Potter.”

Black stepped out of the way, eyeing her suspiciously as she entered the atrium. Dorcas suddenly remembered that she was not the only person to have lost family members in the past year. Potter’s parents had died of the Dedolar Virus last winter. They had been old even by wizarding standards and the illness had taken its toll on them. She felt a rush of sympathy for Potter, knowing how painful it was to lose family, and guilt for never having offered her condolences.

She knew the lay-out of the house well enough to find the drawing room. Potter was prodding his last remaining pawn with the end of his wand while the chessman pleaded against sending him to face Black’s rook.

“Looks like you’re losing pretty badly, Potter,” Dorcas said, announcing herself.

Potter looked up in surprise. It seemed to be a reoccurring theme. It wasn’t everyday that Dorcas Meadowes spoke to James Potter, let alone came to his house without being forced. Even in their childhood, it had been her mother who demanded that Dorcas attend Potter’s birthday parities every year. He abandoned the struggling pawn and laid down his wand.

“I’m here because of Lily,” the woman said, wasting no time in getting to the point.

She didn’t want to endure small talk with Potter and Black. Potter motioned for her to sit. Dorcas had to admit, though she didn’t want to, that he looked greatly troubled. So, Potter really did love Lily. That was disturbing, because she’d never known him to love anyone but himself. It was like the world was turning upside down.

“What did Healer Bones or Dumbledore tell you about Lily’s wound?”

Potter shook his head. “Not much. Bones said it was rare, but he’d seen it before. Dumbledore said Bones taught you how to tend it, so if anything went wrong, I should ask you to come again.”

Dorcas sighed audibly. That was so like Dumbledore and Bones. They were always teaching their students, even outside the classroom. She should have guessed that since she was the first person to look at the wound, she was technically Lily’s Healer, and it was her responsibility to keep the information confidential. She was already breaking the Healer’s Oath before she even took it.

“If anyone finds out that I told you what I’m about to say, I’ll be kicked out of the Healer program and barred from medicine for the rest of my life, so keep your mouths shut,” she said, looking between Potter and Black. Surprisingly, they both nodded. “The curse that caused the wound is called the Curse of Marked Death. It’s meant to inflict pain and suffering over a prolonged period of time, but that’s not the worst part. It’s only used when the wizard who casts it has a use for the victim, when he doesn’t want them dead and thinks that the Cruciatus Curse will not be enough to break their will.”

Potter had placed his head in his hands, and Black looked unnaturally somber. Dorcas took a deep breath. The rest of her career would be spent delivering unpleasant news to patients and their family members, especially in the Creature Induced Injuries ward where many of her patients would never fully recover.

“It gets worse,” she plowed on. “There is only one wizard who knows the incantation, so it is an absolute certainty that he used it on Lily.”

“Who?” Potter demanded.

Dorcas swallowed thickly. “You-Know-Who,” she whispered.

Potter stared at her blankly for a moment. “I do?”

“She means Voldemort,” Black clarified.

Normally, he would have laughed at the confusion, but there was nothing funny about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named seriously injuring Lily.

“Voldemort was in Hogsmeade? With the Death Eaters?” Potter asked incredulously.

“He’s been gaining strength. Maybe he’s not as afraid of Dumbledore as he used to be,” Black suggested.

“Or maybe he just really wants Lily.”

The young men looked at Dorcas silently, fear and confusion evident on their faces.

“But she’s Muggle-born,” Potter protested.

Dorcas nodded. “That’s what’s been troubling me since I found out You-Know-Who hurt her. If he’s willing to overlook that, then he has a purpose for her. That’s an even more dangerous situation than working for the Order. That’s why I’m telling you this, because I know you’ll protect her. Lily would kill me if she knew I was here talking about her like she’s a damsel in distress, but she’s been marked. You-Know-Who won’t stop until she’s on his side, and we all know that Lily would die before joining him.”

Silence settled between James and Dorcas as they gazed at one another. Both had lost parents in the last year and both cared deeply for Lily. It felt odd, suddenly relating to Potter and Black. Dorcas wasn’t sure she liked it.

She left quickly after that, having nothing else in common with Potter. The little annoying voice in her head reminded her that she had had amicable conversations with the two Marauders she despised the most. It was almost too much for her to handle. She would have to make a point of avoiding Pettigrew, not that she saw him often anyway.

The pale moonlight reflected off the piles of snow lining the streets and the soft flakes drifting from the sky. Godric’s Hollow looked like a tranquil Christmas card with the houses blanketed in snow and Christmas lights shining red and green in the windows of Muggle homes. It was difficult to imagine a town looking so peaceful during a war.

“Meadowes!”

She waited while Black jogged through the front yard. Once again, she was struck by the difference between the man standing in front of her and the boy at Hogwarts. He looked tired, like most of the Order members did, and worried. She had never known him to look and act so … common. But then, they were in the middle of a war, not just the rivalry for the House Cup.

Dorcas shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for Black to say what he’d run out of the house to say. His eyes focused on the line of broken stone between the shoveled sidewalk and frozen earth as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

“James will take care of Lily, so don’t worry. He’d die before he let anything happen to her.”

Dorcas cocked her head to one side, scrutinizing Black’s face. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he looked awkward. That would have been a first.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He looked up suddenly, caught off guard by the question. “Because I know that Lily is your best friend,” he said, as if the answer was obvious. “If it was James …”

For the second time in two weeks, Dorcas was astounded by a conversation she’d had with Black. He was showing empathy. Of all people, Sirius Black was displaying empathy. It must truly be the end of the world, Dorcas mused.

“Thanks,” she replied, holding back her sarcasm. She kind of liked this side of Black and didn’t want to ruin the moment by snapping at him. “She is, and I’ve already lost a lot people in this war.”

Black nodded slowly. “We all have, in one way or another.”

She wondered what he meant by that, because none of the Blacks had been killed. They were “respectable” purebloods who didn’t associate with Muggles or Muggle-borns, the kind of wizards that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wanted on his side.

“It just seems like we’re all going to die for something or someone before this over,” Dorcas said.

The words had escaped her lips before she could stop them. It was a habit that she’d picked up from her gossiping mother and aunts. Professor Sprout had forever been scolding her about controlling her thoughts. Occlumency had helped a lot, but sometimes, the urge to spill her emotions overpowered her better judgment.

“We’re not all going to die,” Black said, looking taken aback. “Dumbledore will stop Voldemort, and we’ll get on with our lives.”

“They found Benjy Fenwick. Or I should say, they found parts of him.”

“You mean …?” Black’s face contorted in disgust as Dorcas nodded. “How do you know?”

“I hear the coroner telling Healer Bones before class the other day. Gideon Prewett found half a leg and three fingers.”

Black looked like he was going to be sick. Dorcas had experienced that feeling many times during the beginning of the semester. The urge was beginning to wane with the more grotesque diseases she studied and learned to treat.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, her nurturing instincts kicking in.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Black said, trying to shrug it off. He laughed hollowly. “I guess you know why I passed on Healing.”

“Really? I thought it would have had something to do with your personality. You being the manifestation of Gryffindor House and all.”

She realized too late that she had complimented him. Naturally, he grinned roguishly at her, his ego fully inflated. Dorcas cursed her comforting nature. If he were on his death bed, he might have deserved that comment, but in any other circumstance, his ego was already too big.

“Anyway,” Dorcas said, before Black could make some suggestive comment about how he always knew she was harboring secret lustful fantasies about him. “I should be getting home. I’ll see you around.”

Black’s face fell. Dorcas grinned cheekily, happy that everything was back to normal. She turned sharply and Apparated to her house. She cast the wards on the gate and front door before heading up to bed.

As usual, her father was hovering in the drawing room when she walked through the front door. He didn’t say a word, but handed her an envelope addressed to her in Darius’s handwriting. It had been a long time since her brother had written to her, which she took as a sign that he was recovering and getting on with his life.

Upstairs, she plopped onto her bed and read the letter over twice. He sounded as happy as she had always felt at Hogwarts. She was glad that at least the students at Hogwarts were somewhat shielded from the war. The walls of Hogwarts Castle were a solace she had never fully appreciated until she was too old to go back.


Chapter 4 - Grudge Revolving

October Twilight
Chapter Four
“Grudge Revolving”

May 30th, 1974
4th Year

Dorcas stood in front of the mirror observing her reflection with a small frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. She had tried on at least fifteen different outfits, but she hadn’t liked any of them. The Muggle bellbottom blue jeans and Bohemian sky blue top looked all right, but she wanted to look better than that for her date with Sirius. She had spent an hour in the bathroom charming her hair to lie perfectly and applying make-up.

The reflections of her roommates moved around the dorm throwing on clothes and filling their pockets with Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. She wished she could be as carefree as they were, but she had to impress Sirius Black, and everyone knew how fickle he could be.

“Oh, come on!” Annabel Knight exclaimed, grabbing Dorcas’s arm. “You look perfect, just like you always do. If you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late.”

Dorcas let herself be dragged from the dormitory. The common room was full of fifth- and seventh-years who were skipping the Hogsmeade trip to study for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. The slightest noise caused a flurry of angrily rustled parchment, and Amos Diggory threatened to hex anyone who disturbed him again.

In the safety of the hallway, the third- and fourth-years broke into excited chatter. The entrance hall was filling up with students looking for their friends from other Houses and younger students leaving the Great Hall after breakfast. Dorcas craned her neck to find Sirius among the throng of students.

“He’s always late,” Lily said, appearing beside Dorcas. “If you leave now, you could avoid him all day.”

Dorcas frowned. “Lily!”

“Dorcas!” the other girl mimicked. “What happened to our code? We swore we’d never date a Marauder! They’re immature, arrogant, obnoxious--”

“I get the point. Maybe we’re wrong. I mean, they did come to the sit-in.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because of ….” She trailed off, glancing around nervously at the crowd of students. “It wasn’t for the cause. It was for one person.”

Dorcas averted her eyes, trying to think of a suitable comeback. She hated it that Lily could think on her feet so well. Before she had to answer, the Marauders appeared on the stairs, and Sirius flashed her a million-Galleon smile.

“Do I look all right?” she asked Lily, with a stupid grin plastered on her lips.

Lily just rolled her eyes again. “Traitor.”

Dorcas watched Lily disappear into the crowd, an amused smile touching her lips. Lily had been even more hostile towards Potter than normal since Dorcas had agreed to go on a date with Sirius. She truly despised them and didn’t hesitate in telling Dorcas so every time they saw one another. Lily’s ranting couldn’t persuade Dorcas, though.

“Ready to go?” Sirius asked.

Dorcas nodded, trying to keep the stupid grin off her face and hoping that her cheeks weren’t red. Not even Filch’s scowl dimmed her good spirits as she and Sirius passed through the front doors. She didn’t even notice the dejected girls sending angry glares in her direction.

“Did you get in trouble for the sit-in?” Sirius questioned.

“Not at all. I was surprised, but Dumbledore seemed really … proud, I guess. He awarded us all points.”

“It really worked too. Professor Clancy resigned.”

Dorcas’s smile faltered. She hadn’t meant for him to lose his job. She just wanted him to change his lessons. Seeing the shock on her face, Sirius continued.

“Bertha Jorkins overhead him talking to Professor Slughorn this morning. Apparently, he wanted Slughorn to take points from you for telling off the Slytherins. He said that he refused to teach students who had usurped his authority or something like that. He handed in his resignation today. Jorkins said we’re sitting our Defense finals with our Heads of House.”

Dorcas was stunned into silence. She was still trying to comprehend what she had done when they entered Hogsmeade Village.

“Where do you want to go first?” Sirius asked.

“Oh! There’s this really good bookshop past the Hog’s Head that not many people know about.”

“A bookstore? You read too much, Meadowes,” Sirius laughed.

The last vestiges of Dorcas’s smile faded. She could hardly believe it, but he’d just called her by her surname, like they were chilly acquaintances instead of on a date.

“Let’s go to Honeyduke’s,” he finished, not even noticing Dorcas’s reaction.

“Uh … sure.”

She followed him into the sweetshop, but her mood wasn’t improved by the crowd of students mulling around the store. Sirius was enthralled by the back wall which held disgusting displays of blood suckers, cockroach clusters, and jelly phlegm.

“Do you think Pete would try this if I told him it was cherry flavored?” Sirius asked, holding up a blood sucker.

Dorcas couldn’t believe anyone, even Peter Pettigrew, would be that stupid.

“Probably,” he said, answering his own question. “You want something?”

“I’ll just take some Unbreakable Jawbreakers,” she replied, eyeing the lollipop warily.

At the register, Sirius dropped enough candy onto the counter to fill a large bag. The clerk smiled kindly at him, her rosy cheeks puffing up as she glanced between Sirius and Dorcas.

“I was wondering where the fourth Marauder had gone. Anything else?”

“Some Unbreakable Jawbreakers,” Sirius answered.

While the witch dug a handful out of the nearly empty jar behind the counter, Dorcas searched through her pockets for the eleven knuts it cost for a handful of the candy. Sirius wrapped his fingers around her wrist before she could pull out the coins.

“Beautiful girls shouldn’t have to pay for anything on a date.”

Dorcas was surprised for a moment, but the meaning of his words sunk in quickly. Her stupid grin returned, and she felt heat rising in her cheeks. She looked down and nervously tucked her hair behind her ears. She regretted it immediately, because she couldn’t hide her red cheeks anymore.

They left Honeyduke’s and walked up the street, gazing at their favorite shops, but not going inside. Just before they reached the Three Broomsticks, Sirius reached over and clasped Dorcas’s hand in his own. She reddened even more as she squeezed his hand in return. Sirius looked over at her, also grinning, but in a very different way. If she had been herself, she would have called it a cocky smile.

“You’ve such a beautiful smile,” he said, leaning in closer.

Full of giddiness, Dorcas actually giggled in response and brought her free hand up to cover her mouth. “Thank you.”

“We should go somewhere quieter,” he said, steering the path away from the Three Broomsticks.

They walked down the street hand-in-hand in the general direction of the Shrieking Shack. Dorcas hoped that wasn’t where he planned on taking her. She had no desire to see the ramshackle house. She knew it wasn’t haunted, but it seemed taboo to stare at it like it was some kind of tourist attraction when she knew what it was really used for.

Luckily, Sirius steered her around a corner, away from the Shrieking Shack. He pulled open the door of a small café hidden between Waltz and Schmitz bookshop and Gram Toile’s bakery. The whole place was decorated to resemble a field full of spring flowers with vibrant wallpaper and plastic bees buzzing around the ceiling. The sign above the café read: Madam Puddifoot’s.

Dorcas felt her cheeks grow hot again as she took a seat near the picture window. Before and after Hogsmeade weekends, the older girls were always giggling and gossiping about the coffee shop.

Dorcas was perched on the edge of her chair, all logical thought frozen with indecision. She could bolt and ruin all chances of a second date with Sirius, or she could let him kiss her in public. Her cheeks grew redder as she thought about it. Of course she wanted to kiss Sirius, every girl wanted that. It was the public part that she didn’t like. Come Monday morning, every girl fifth-year and below would be whispering about her behind her back.

While her brain was frozen, Sirius had ordered them coffees. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her back against the booth bench, grinning roguishly the whole time. Dorcas thought he had a good idea of her innocence and seemed to rather enjoy making her uncomfortable. She relaxed against his arm, determined not to always be the goody-two-shoes that Hufflepuffs were so often labeled as.

She tensed slightly as Sirius leaned in closer. She knew he would kiss her sooner or later, but she really had hoped it was later, after she’d had more time to think about her reaction. As it was, she found herself lost in his fathomless gray eyes. Quite unexpectedly, she leaned in too. She drew in a sharp breath as their lips touched, shocked at herself. She snapped her eyes shut, trying to forget about the people who were probably watching and already gossiping. The kiss was much wetter and more awkward than she had envisioned her first kiss being, but she couldn’t deny that Sirius knew what he was doing.

The thoughts swirling around her head stopped abruptly as she felt Sirius’s hand drifting away from her shoulder. For a moment, she wondered what he was doing. Then she felt his fingers brush against her chest, just inches away from her breast. She shoved him hard, nearly pushing him out of his chair.

Blood was pounding in her ears, but not from the nervous adrenaline that had made her giddy all day. She was seeing red, and this time Black was going to pay for it. He was looking up at her with wide eyes and his jaw was slack. His reaction only made her more furious. Lily had been right. He was a complete scoundrel.

“You bastard!” Dorcas shrieked. Several of the kissing couples broke apart, looking around curiously. “We’re not even forty-five minutes into our first date!”

She was so angry that she couldn’t form coherent thoughts. Black was staring at her, his jaw working silently. Frustrated at herself and the situation, Dorcas spun on her heels and marched out of the café.

As she stormed through the streets of Hogsmeade, her schoolmates stepped out of the way, but as soon as she passed, they began whispering curiously. It was rare to see Dorcas Meadowes stomping around with flushed cheeks and a dark scowl. She had been out of character twice in as many days, first staging the sit-in against werewolf segregation and now storming through Hogsmeade.

“Dorcas! Dorcas! … Dorcas!”

Lily grabbed her best friend by the elbow, panting slightly as she forced Dorcas to stop walking. She had seen Dorcas leave Madam Puddifoot’s and had chased her to High Street, knowing that Black had done something to upset her.

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Dorcas yelled, spinning around.

Lily stepped backwards, shocked at Dorcas’s uncharacteristic vehemence. In their four years as friend, Dorcas had never yelled at her, even when they were fighting.

“Fine. You don’t have to. We can just walk around until you want to.”

Lily knew her too well. In a few minutes, Dorcas would be spilling all the details of the sordid affair. Sighing in defeat, she nodded and fell into step beside Lily. They walked past the busy Three Broomsticks, towards Zonko’s Joke Shop. Dorcas popped a yellow lemon-flavored Unbreakable Jawbreaker into her mouth and silently handed Lily a cherry-flavored candy.

“He tried to feel me up,” Dorcas said suddenly.

Lily almost choked on the jawbreaker in her mouth. “You’re kidding!”

“Unfortunately, I’m not. He’s a horrible date, too! He called me by my surname.” Lily nodded sympathetically. “He made fun of me for wanting to go to a bookshop.” Lily was scowling by that time. “And he used one of those stupid lines about how beautiful my smile is.”

“I don’t mean to be a pain, but I did warn you. You can’t trust Marauders, except Remus. They’re superficial and arrogant. If you weren’t pretty, Dorcas, Black wouldn’t have thought twice about asking you out. He doesn’t care that you’re brilliant or that you’re empathetic. He just wants a pretty face to look at.”

Dorcas sighed. “I know. I just didn’t want to believe it. It’s just … argh! Why can’t any boy other than Remus care about our personalities?”

“Because they’re boys! Remus is special. We’ll never find another one like him, I’m afraid.”

Dorcas couldn’t help but grin. “Let’s make a deal,” she began. Lily perked up, always ready to hear one of Dorcas’s ideas. “If we get old--”

“How old?”

“I don’t know, like … twenty-two.” Lily nodded in agreement. “And we still haven’t found the perfect man to date, we’ll share Remus.”

Lily laughed. “Does Remus get a say in the matter?”

“No.”

The redhead laughed harder, nodding her consent. “Deal.”

They continued down the street, giggling and picking through a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans while on their way to Waltz and Schmitz bookshop. It was their tradition to browse through the used bookstore every Hogsmeade weekend, usually as soon as they arrived in the village. At the intersection between High Street and Stile Street, Dorcas stopped abruptly, the smile sliding off of her face.

Lily followed her line of sight to Zonko’s. Black and Potter were walking out of the store and enthusiastically inspecting a box full of some item that rattled and squeaked while Pettigrew stood a few feet away, eyeing the box warily. Remus was trailing behind them, his brow furrowed and his jaw set.

“I asked you what you did to her!” Remus demanded.

Black cast an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Nothing she didn’t want me to do.”

Lily sucked in her breath, turning to gage Dorcas’s reaction. Rarely had she seen her best friend so enraged. Dorcas fumbled for the pocket of her Muggle jeans and whipped out her wand. Lily barely had time to jump out of the way before Dorcas cast the hex.

“Remanius!”

Black doubled over, clutching his stomach as an invisible fist punched him in the gut. With watering eyes, he searched for the source of the hex. Dorcas was pleased that he looked stunned to see she had cast the spell, but the surprise faded from his face when the invisible fist hit him again, this time on the nose.

Lily was laughing uncontrollably. Dorcas prided herself on defensive spells, and the Boxing Hex was a specialty reserved for people who truly had some punishment coming, usually her younger brother. Dorcas walked away with her head held high while her hex continued to pummel Black.

*~*~*

December 25th, 1978

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Dorcas left her house. Snow had piled on the window ledge overnight, fogging up the inside of the glass and brightly reflecting the pink morning sun. Wrapped in a heavy cloak, a scarf, woolen mittens, and hat, Dorcas stepped into the mound of snow on the front steps. Using her wand, she melted a path to the front gates.

As she passed her father’s bedroom window, she paused, wondering if she’d made the right decision. He wouldn’t wake for several more hours, and when he did, he would find the house empty save for the house-elf. It was too late to change her mind, but she wondered if she shouldn’t have pressed him harder.

A rift had grown between them since her mother’s and Calliope’s deaths and it had only widened since Dorcas joined the Order. When Darius sent word that he was staying at Hogwarts to attend the Yule Ball, her father had announced that he would be working on Christmas. Without any further consideration, she had volunteered to work Christmas as well. There was no point in depriving some other Order member of seeing their family when she didn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with.

At the front gates, she Disapparated after casting the wards. Next moment, she was standing in Hogsmeade just outside Honeydukes. The windows all along the street were dark, save for the apartments above the stores where many of the owners lived. She walked past her favorite shops without glancing at the festive decorations. She wasn’t in a very celebratory mood.

Dorcas arrived at the Hog’s Head at precisely six o’clock, as she had been told to do. The owner, an aging man with grisly gray hair and beard, was waiting behind the bar. She had been told that this man was Dumbledore’s brother, but she could scarcely believe it. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard alive, and this barkeep looked one step away from vagabond.

“Upstairs,” the man growled.

Not wanting to anger the already cranky man, she mounted the stairs without knowing who or what she was going to find there. The second floor of the bar wasn’t any nicer than the first. Layers of dust coated the picture frames and the floor looked as though it had never been swept, much less mopped. She waited for a few minutes, being careful not to touch anything. The whole place was a Healer’s worst nightmare.

Finally, the sound of creaking stairs reached her ears. She had done a lot of work for the Order in the two months she’d been a member, but standing guard was not one of those jobs. She didn’t know what to expect, other than a long day.

“You’ve never looked so out of place,” Black laughed.

Dorcas tried to laugh, but the filth all around her was making her queasy. For the past semester, she’d been washing her hands at least twenty times a day.

“What exactly are we doing today?” she asked.

“We’re sitting on the roof. Unless Death Eaters show up, then we’re dueling.”

He pulled a silvery Invisibility cloak out of his robes and motioned Dorcas to come closer. She reached out and let the material slide through her invisible fingers.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, amazed. She had only ever read about them.

“Borrowed it from James, but Moody has two that he lends to the Order.”

“So that’s how you guys snuck around the castle without getting caught!”

“Partly,” Sirius said, grinning. “Come on, Emmeline and Dedalus are waiting for us.”

Sirius pulled open the door leading to the roof and threw the cloak over the both of them. It was hard to climb stairs under the cloak because Dorcas and Sirius were both so tall, but they managed to get onto the roof and sit without exposing their feet.

“Thanks,” a disembodied male voice said. The door opened and shut once more, seemingly of its own volition, leaving Sirius and Dorcas alone.

“Happy Christmas,” Sirius said, pulling two bottles of butterbeer out of his robes.

Dorcas grinned and pulled a handful of Unbreakable Jawbreakers from her pockets. “Happy Christmas.”

It was a strange few hours, huddled under the Invisibility cloak with Black, sucking on candy and sipping butterbeer. The Cushioning Charms kept the slush on the rooftop away from their clothes, but the lightly falling snow piled on top of the cloak so quickly that there was no point in brushing it off.

“So, what makes Sirius Black volunteer to work on Christmas day?” Dorcas asked, casting Replenishing Charms on their butterbeers.

Sirius took a drink and gazed at the mountains in the distance. “You first.”

She hesitated, not expecting the sudden turn around.

“If you’re going to ask, be ready to answer.”

Dorcas shrugged. “Fair enough. Well, Darius decided to stay at Hogwarts this year, and my dad had to work.”

“What does he do again?”

“He’s a Hit Wizard.”

Sirius paused with his butterbeer halfway to his lips. He glanced sidelong at Dorcas, but turned away too late. She saw the knowing look he had sent in her direction. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

“I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but Hit Wizards have all holidays off unless something really important happens. The Aurors have to pick up the slack.”

Dorcas looked down at her hands. It wasn’t entirely unexpected news. Some part of her remembered that her father had always been home on holidays. Maybe she just wanted to believe that he was working instead of avoiding her.

“You don’t look surprised,” Sirius observed.

“Not really. Things haven’t been the same since my mom and sister died. I thought living at home would help my dad, but it hasn’t. It’s only gotten worse.” Dorcas swallowed thickly, willing herself not to start crying. “Your turn.”

“All right. I haven’t lived at home since before seventh-year, and I don’t intend to ever go back to that house or my family. James is spending Christmas with Lily, and I didn’t want to intrude.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I could say the same.”

Dorcas looked away from Black, feeling very nosy for asking. She should have been able to guess, knowing that the Blacks were pureblood elitists and Sirius was not, but she hadn’t ever cared to pay attention to him before.

“That’s what you meant when you said we’ve all lost family in one way or another.” He nodded. “That’s awful, I’m sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Dorcas wondered how many times she’d seen that smile and overlooked the sadness it covered up. He plucked another jawbreaker from the pile lying in the snow between them, once again gazing at the distant mountains. Dorcas raised her bottle of butterbeer.

“To being proud blood traitors!”

Black looked at her again, this time genuinely smiling. He raised his butterbeer and they tapped the bottles against each other. Dorcas nearly choked on a mouthful of butterbeer when she saw Black draining the entire bottle.

“Better be careful or you won’t have anything left to replenish,” she laughed.

Sirius lowered the bottle. “In the name of having more to drink, I’ll stop. That was the best toast I’ve ever drank to.”

Other than the conversation on the roof of the Hog’s Head, the village was silent on Christmas day. All of the shops were closed and the owners with their families. Occasionally, a resident would appear in a front lawn to let the dogs out or a small group of children would make snowmen. Further away, students at Hogwarts ice-skated on the lake and had snowball fights. The Quidditch pitch was only a speck on the horizon, but figures flying on broomsticks were clearly visible against bright blue sky.

“Even James didn’t make us practice over Christmas holiday,” Sirius said, shaking his head.

“They’re having a Yule Ball this year, so the whole team is probably there. What do you want to bet it’s Gryffindor?”

“What makes you think the new Captain’s practice schedule can be any worse than James’s?”

Dorcas grinned proudly. “He’s my brother. He told me all about the grueling practices and the horrible try-outs this year.”

“Darius? Yeah, he’ll be a good Captain. It’s hard for Seekers to keep an eye on the game and the Snitch, though. He’ll need strong Chasers …”

Black rambled on about Quidditch for at least half an hour before realizing that Dorcas hadn’t said anything.

“Don’t you like Quidditch?”

“Sure.”

Sirius looked scandalized. “Sure? That’s all you can say? Sure?”

“Well, I don’t really understand it. I mean, I watched all the games, but there are so many balls and rules. It’s more fun just to sit with friends. That’s why Hufflepuff-Gryffindor matches weren’t ever that interesting. I couldn’t sit with Lily and Remus.”

“But, but …,” Sirius sputtered. “You’ve got to be kidding! Hufflepuff had one of the strongest teams when we were at school. They even beat us two years in a row, when Amos Diggory was Captain.”

“Yeah, and I was proud and celebrated afterwards in the common room, but winning doesn’t mean I’ll understand the game.”

Sirius turned his attention back to the flying figures, looking completely baffled that Dorcas didn’t love Quidditch.

At sundown, the Hogwarts students retreated into the castle, presumably to get ready for the Yule Ball. Sitting on the roof under an Invisibility cloak all day had taken its toll on Black and Dorcas. They were both stiff, and the abundant amount of sugar in their systems from the Unbreakable Jawbreakers was making them fidgety. They should have been exhausted after fifteen hours on duty, but instead they were both wide awake and full of adrenaline. At nine o’clock, the rooftop door creaked open again.

“Hey, we need the cloak,” Potter’s voice hissed.

While Dorcas shoved the remaining jawbreakers back into her pocket, Black waved his wand deftly and vanished the butterbeer bottles. Potter and Lily were waiting at the bottom of the stairwell, both looking tired, but happy nonetheless.

“What’s put you in such a good mood?” Dorcas asked Lily.

The redhead glanced over her shoulder at Potter and Black who were drying the Invisibility cloak with their wand tips. She smiled widely, but shook her head.

“I’ll tell you later. Meet me tomorrow?”

“All right,” Dorcas agreed, seeing no other way of wheedling out the information.

James and Lily ascended the stairs under the Invisibility cloak a few minutes later, once again leaving Dorcas and Black alone. Dorcas had to admit that spending the whole day with Black hadn’t been as bad as she had imagined it would be. Then again, they had been getting along better for the past few months.

Hogsmeade was silent except for the occasional hooting owl or barking dog. All of the families were in their houses, cleaning up after a day of festivities and presents. With sugar pumping in her system and full of pent up energy, Dorcas didn’t want to return home to sleepy Hampshire village. Her father would be home already (if he had left at all), and she would prefer to keep her distance at least until she figured out how she felt about his lying to her about working on Christmas.

“I’m starving,” Black moaned, eyeing Gram Toile’s Bakery.

“Me too. Too much sugar. Do you have food in your kitchen?”

Sirius thought hard, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember when he last bought groceries. Dorcas almost laughed. He looked so cute when he was concentrating. She physically shook her head when she realized what she had just been thinking. The last time she allowed herself to be captivated by Black’s good looks, she’d been subjected to a horrible day in Hogsmeade. They were civil with one another, but they were by no means friends, and she certainly wasn’t interested in dating him ever again.

“I think so, yeah. A little bit. Probably,” he answered.

“I can work with that. I’ll make us something.”

Black’s eyebrow rose dramatically. “Wait, wait, wait. You can cook?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I am half Greek,” she added, as if that explained everything.

Black hesitated. “The last time you willingly spent time with me, I recall a rather painful Boxing Hex.”

Dorcas was caught off guard by the reference to their one and only date. She was surprised that he even remembered that day given the reputation for being a playboy that he had earned during their fifth-year. It also wasn’t like him to bring up a situation in which he had been rejected and hexed into the hospital wing.

“Don’t try to feel me up and I won’t be forced to hex you,” Dorcas said, grinning.

Black smiled roguishly and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Dorcas spun around and began walking down the street. Once again, her mouth had moved faster than her brain. She had just flirted with Black, and nothing encouraged his arrogant side to come out more than unintentional flirting.

“Oi, Meadowes! Are you going to make me dinner or not?”

Dorcas was debating between facing her father and putting up with Black. Now that she had awoken the sleeping monster, he wasn’t likely to leave her alone.

“Yeah. Where do you live?”

“In London. It’s not too far from the storefront entrance to St. Mungo’s.”

Dorcas turned sharply and appeared in front of the derelict department store front that concealed the entrance to St. Mungo’s. She was grateful that Black lived somewhere close to a familiar area. She would have rather gone home and faced her father than hold his hand for Side Along Apparation. Black appeared beside her a moment later, a small pop accompanying his arrival.

His flat wasn’t far from where Dorcas had lived over the summer. She glazed longingly that the black windows of the apartment complex as they passed. She had been seriously considering moving back to London for a few weeks. Seeing her flat sitting empty only made the desire grow.

Black’s flat was as dirty and disorganized as Dorcas feared it would be. Empty butterbeer bottles, half-full glasses of fizzy drinks, crisps bags, and dirty dishes were scattered all over the drawing room. Down the hallway that presumably led to the bathroom and bedroom, clothes were piled knee-high between the doors. There seemed to be an exceptionally large amount of black fur all over the furniture, but no animal anywhere in the flat.

In contrast, the dining room was spotless, if only because it had never been used. In the kitchen the cabinet doors were all opened, some revealing tin cans of soup or boxes of cookies, but most were empty. Dorcas could only imagine that the dirty dishes in the drawing room had once been stored in there.

A quick search of the icebox confirmed what Dorcas had suspected since she entered the flat. Black’s food supply consisted of a pint of sour milk, a block of moldy cheese, and no less than thirty bottles of butterbeer. Dorcas was an amazing cook, being taught by her Greek mother and grandmother, but even she couldn’t whip up a meal with thirty bottles of butterbeer, some canned soup, and bags of cookies.

As Dorcas glanced around, she couldn’t help but laugh. She had always heard that bachelors lived off take-away curry, but she hadn’t actually been inside a bachelor’s flat.

“What’s so funny?” Black asked, stepping around the icebox and into the kitchen, perhaps for the first time in weeks.

“You’re a mess, that’s what.”

Black studied the barren cupboards and nearly empty icebox. “I haven’t been home much.”

Dorcas laughed again, her melodic voice filling up the room. “If you say so. The Leaky Cauldron is always open. Our best bet for getting fed is to go there.”

Black hesitated. He seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it. Dorcas knew what he was thinking without asking. Nobody went to Diagon Alley except for quick trips, and they always shopped in packs. Since the second raid, a number of shops had closed altogether. Thinking about Diagon Alley ultimately led to thinking about her mother and Calliope, and that wasn’t something she wanted to dredge up on Christmas day.

“Or,” Dorcas said, her good humor gone. “We can get take away.”

They opted for the latter option. It was nearing ten-thirty on Christmas day, but Dorcas knew of a good restaurant in London owned by her Uncle Jon’s Muggle brother-in-law. As Dorcas explained all of this, Black stared at her in disbelief and wonder.

“Uncle Jon is my mum’s half-brother. His dad is a Muggle, but he’s a wizard. He married my Aunt Margot, who is a Muggle, but her younger brother is a Muggle-born wizard. It’s her older brother who owns the restaurant. My great-uncle Orion, who is my dad’s uncle, works there because he’s a Squib.

“Now, my dad’s family is another story altogether. They’re all wizards, except for my Aunt Alice, who is a witch, but her parents wouldn’t let her go Hogwarts, so she’s learned to live without magic ….”

Dorcas trailed off, realizing that she was rambling. She hurriedly finished writing the order and attached it to Black’s tawny owl. Her Aunt Margot loved receiving and sending orders by owl, although very few customers of Hellas Greek Family Restaurant knew about the owl-order service. When she looked at Black again, he was smiling at her.

“That’s amazing. It really is. Your family is purebloods, but you’ve accepted your Muggle and Squib relatives.”

Dorcas cocked her head to one side, surveying Black closely. He seemed genuinely surprised and happy that the Meadowes family was accepting. The reason why dawned on her a moment later. The Black family was elitist. In her childhood, Dorcas had made friends with tons of kids who later became her classmates at Hogwarts. She only just realized that none of her friends had been placed in Slytherin. Her parents had been very selective of who she met and made friends with. Or perhaps it had happened the other way around.

“We haven’t always,” she admitted. “It’s only my grandmother on my mum’s side that started the tradition when she married a Muggle after my grandfather died. My dad’s family still isn’t very open-minded.”

“Not being open-minded is something entirely different than banishing Squibs and blood traitors,” Black replied, a very ugly look on his face.

Dorcas felt her happy, chatting mood deflate instantly. The holidays were always harder without family. She dreaded letting melancholy settle in. Rather remarkably, she and Black had spent an enjoyable day together. Determined not to let it end on such a sour note, she brought the topic around to something they had in common while they waited for their food.

“Remus is coming down to London tomorrow.”

“Yeah, he told me. I’m meeting James, Pete, and Remus tomorrow afternoon.”

Reuniting the Marauders didn’t seem to brighten his mood at all. Dorcas couldn’t help but wonder at that. They had been as thick as thieves at Hogwarts. She hadn’t imagined anything could come between the four friends.

Quite suddenly, an image flashed behind her eyes accompanied but an unpleasantly familiar sharp stab of pain.

The Grim was bounding across the field outside of Hogsmeade, and yet it could not be the Grim because it was barking, almost gleefully like a pet dog welcoming home its master.

Dorcas blinked several times, sweeping the image from her mind. When the room around her stopped spinning, her eyes focused on a clump of black fur on the sofa.

For a moment, she feared that she had used her ability without meaning to. The black fur was the same as the dog’s … or was it really a dog? But her Occlumency defenses were rock solid. It was more like a latent premonition had been lurking in her brain without her knowing it and only just decided to make itself known.

“You okay?” Black questioned, looking into her eyes like a Healer checking a shock patient.

“Strange,” Dorcas laughed. “Too much sugar and not enough solid food, I guess. And if you’re going to check for abnormally dilated pupils, you need to light the end of your wand.”

Black looked away, almost seeming abashed that she knew he had been concerned. The delivery owl chose that moment to tap its beak against the window. Black let it in and took the brown bag from its talons. The bird fluttered onto Dorcas’s knee and held out his leg for her to remove the letter attached.

While Black laid the food out on the table, Dorcas read the short note from her aunt and uncle wanting to know why she couldn’t have just heated up some left over Christmas turkey and demanding to know why she hadn’t come to the Christmas gathering. She tucked the note into her pocket, wondering exactly how she was going to explain the situation to her mother’s family.

“What is this?” Black asked, crinkling up his nose.

“It’s a salad,” she laughed, taking the large plastic bowl and grabbing a fork. “I ordered you the chicken Mediterranean. It’s more like the food you’re used to.”

“Does all Greek food smell so bad?” When Black opened the container holding his meal, he added, “Never mind. I know the answer.”

“No, it’s good! Just try it.”

Reluctantly, and digging around the olives and peppers, Black speared a piece of the chicken and shoved it into his mouth. He looked pleasantly surprised.

“Aunt Margot is the best cook in our family, and that is her specialty.”

They ate their meals in compatible silence, both too hungry for small talk between bites. After he was done, Black popped one of the complimentary breath mints into his mouth, commenting on the common sense of including the peppermint candies.

“How clever,” Dorcas sassed, also taking a peppermint. “I swear, I don’t know how you scored better than me in Astronomy.”

“How do you know I did?”

Dorcas’s cheeks reddened slightly as she realized what she’d just said. Since Black was going to get it out of her one way or another, she decided to answer.

“I checked.”

Black raised his eyebrows and indicated that he wanted a more specific answer.

“At the end of each term, I looked in the grade books of all our professors. A simple Revelation Charm can do wonders on a book halfway across the room.”

Black looked stunned. “I don’t believe it! Model student Dorcas Meadowes was looking into the private records of her fellow students? How is that you never got a detention in seven years?”

“I didn’t get caught.”

“Maybe you’ve got more mischief maker in you than I ever imagined.”

Dorcas grinned brightly. Normally, she would have been appalled at the label, but coming from Black, it was a compliment. She and Lily had got up to a lot of mischief during their school years, not nearly like the Marauders, but enough to have fun.

Before she knew what was happening, Black’s lips were pressed against hers. Not having expected the kiss, she reacted as she always did when a man kissed her. Her eyes slipped closed, and she breathed in the calming smell of peppermint and aftershave as the kiss deepened.

A moment later, her eyes snapped open, the reality of the situation kicking in. More disgusted at herself than at Black, she pulled away and jumped off the sofa. She gestured wildly at the drawing room while her jaw moved soundlessly.

“What’s the matter?” Black asked.

Dorcas let out an incoherent cry. “You! You’re the matter! When are you going to learn? What reason did I give you to think that I wanted you to kiss me?”

He blinked a few times, as if her words weren’t English. “I thought it was rather obvious that you wanted me.”

Dorcas had pulled her wand out before she even realized it. Black seemed to be rethinking his answer as he eyed the strip of wood warily. Dorcas could barely string together a cohesive sentence in her rage.

“You--! Don’t--! Stay away from me!”

With that, she spun around and marched out of the flat. She didn’t see Black slump forward and bury his face in his hands.


Chapter 5 - Witch Under Pressure

October Twilight
Chapter Five
“Witch Under Pressure”

October 3rd, 1973
3rd Year

Dorcas hurried along behind Professor Sprout. For a plump woman, the Herbology professor walked quickly, and the considerably shorter student had to almost run to keep up. It didn’t help matters that Dorcas’s stomach was knotted up.

At breakfast, Professor Sprout had informed Docras that she would be meeting with Professor Dumbledore after dinner that evening. She had spent the rest of the day fretting over what she could have done to warrant a meeting with the Headmaster. In her distracted state she had made a mess of all her classes. Her Sleeping Draught had been nothing more than diluted clover congealed at the bottom of the cauldron, and she had accidentally repotted a mandrake in the wrong soil, which caused the plant to choke on a rock and die. Professor Sprout hadn’t been happy, which was probably why she was ignoring Dorcas.

The professor led Dorcas to an area of the castle that she’d never been in before. It was somewhere past the Defense Department between the hospital wing and main staircase. The hall was bare except for a bust of Devin the Deranged, who was murmuring in gobbledygook, and a magnificent statue of a gargoyle.

“Fairy Twinkles,” Professor Sprout said.

For a moment, Dorcas wondered why her professor had randomly mentioned the multicolored fizzing candies, but then the gargoyle jumped to the side revealing a hole in the wall roughly large enough for four people to stand comfortably.

“In you go,” the woman said, prodding Dorcas’s back until she stepped into the niche. “See you tomorrow.”

Before Professor Sprout had even finished her sentence, the floor beneath Dorcas’s feet had begun to rise. She rode the stairs up to a door with a shiny griffin knocker. Of all the staircases at Hogwarts, that had to be the weirdest, she thought.

“Come in,” Professor Dumbledore called when Dorcas knocked.

She opened the door slowly, peeking through the slit as she did so. Whizzing metal objects sat on every surface in the room and portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses snoozed in their frames. Professor Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk and waiting patiently.

“Have a seat, Miss Meadowes.”

He waved his wand and a chintz armchair appeared. Dorcas sat, her attention captured by the large bird asleep on a perch to the left of Dumbledore’s desk. It was a phoenix, one of the most fascinating and rare magical creatures.

“I suppose you know why you’ve been asked to meet with me,” Dumbledore said, peering at Dorcas through his half-moon spectacles. His voice was slow and gravelly, but calming at the same time.

“No, sir,” Dorcas admitted. “Professor Sprout didn’t tell me anything.”

“Oh dear,” the Headmaster said, but smiled as he said it. “Lemon drop?”

The girl gazed into the tin full of yellow sweets, confused as to what they were and why the Headmaster was offering her candy at such an unexpected moment. She accepted one of the sweets so that Dumbledore would explain the situation to her.

“You must be most confused! You, a model student, being summoned to the Headmaster’s office.” He laughed genially. Dorcas, who was trying to hide her dislike for the strange candy, only nodded. “I shall explain to my best ability why I have asked you to meet with me. Professor Almida has recently brought it to my attention that you possess a rare gift.”

Dorcas got along well with the Divination teacher, and she wondered why Professor Almida hadn’t talked to Dorcas personally rather than sending her to the Headmaster, who was rumored to not like Divination much.

“I must admit, Miss Meadowes, I am skeptical of the … ah, art … of Divination. As much as I value Professor Almida’s opinion, I wanted to speak with you personally so that I might see if her claims are correct or not.”

Dorcas had some idea of where this was going. She had not, until sitting through her first Divination lesson, thought that her usually correct premonitions had been anything other than intuition. She had tried to explain that later to Lily, but her best friend had only laughed and praised Dorcas’s creative mind.

“What would you like me to do, Professor? I haven’t memorized the tarot cards, but I could do a reading with my book open. I can do palmistry very well now, and my mum taught me astrology a long time ago.”

Dumbledore smiled peaceably. “I would like you to look directly into my eyes.”

Dorcas did as she was asked, not able to resist the Headmaster’s commanding nature, but not sure why he only wanted to look into her eyes. The office around her blurred and rippled as the memory of her first Divination lesson played behind her eyes.

She was taking Annabel’s cup and peering into the tea leaves … the shapes in the dregs were coming alive … a story was unfolding itself …

The office slipped back into focus as the memory ended. Dorcas blinked a few times, wondering what had just happened.

“Well,” Dumbledore said a moment later. “You certainly believe you have the Sight. Perhaps I could persuade you to give a demonstration? But as Professor Almida has said so many times, the Eye does not See upon command.”

Dorcas giggled at the airiness in his voice, and he smiled back at her.

“I’ll need your hand, Professor.”

“Oh, Miss Meadowes, I do not put stock in palmistry, I’m afraid. Age has given me too many lines for them all to mean something!”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t mean to read your palm, professor. I take it that you’d like a real demonstration, not just reciting what I’ve learned in class.” Dumbledore nodded slightly. “Then I’ll need your hand.”

Dumbledore reached across the desk, his sparkling blue eyes studying Dorcas intently. She grasped his large, wrinkled hand in her own and closed her eyes, breathing deeply and clearing her mind of all thought.

A tall man with waxy skin and glowing red eyes raised his wand … a ring buried in the earth below rotting floor boards … two dementors brought a sobbing young man into a dungeon … a phoenix burst into flame … a building in flames … an archway with the words Holly Falls etched into the stone … a white tomb beside the Hogwarts Lake …

Dorcas released Dumbledore’s hand and sat back in her chair, mulling over what she’d just seen. All the while, the Headmaster watched her closely.

“Sir, you need not worry about the man with red eyes. He’s no threat to you, but be careful with his ring.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Yes, it is as I thought. Professor Almida was right. Divination lessons alone will not be good enough for a true Seer. There are special skills which you will need to learn, Miss Meadowes. If you do not protest, I will arrange for these lessons with Professor Colburn--”

“No, Professor!” Dorcas had shouted before she could stop herself. It was as if looking into Dumbledore’s future had opened the floodgates. “Colburn can’t be trusted, especially not after you fire her in June.”

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, his eyes scrutinizing the student sitting in front of him.

“I see. Yet, it is crucial that you learn these skills. I will need to contact your parents before we proceed, of course. I cannot teach you Occlumency without their permission when I know how your father feels about such magic.”

“Y-You’re going to teach me, sir?”

Dorcas had never expected this meeting to end with the conclusion that the greatest sorcerer in the world should teach her such advanced magic.

“Yes, Miss Meadowes, I shall give you private lessons until such a time as you’ve mastered Occlumency or the need to hide your gift has passed.”

The latter part of the sentence confused Dorcas. She had been making predictions since she was a small child and no harm had ever come from it. Except for when she purposely told Darius to do something to get him into trouble.

“Oh, yes,” Dumbledore said gravely, “There is coming a time when the Sight will be a great hardship upon all those who possess it. You are so young. I would see you free of that burden.”

*~*~*

December, 1979

Lily arrived at Meadowes Manor well after when she had said she would arrive, not that Dorcas noticed. She was perched at her desk, studying the list of classes offered in the upcoming semester with growing frustration. Thankfully, she could give up Muggle Remedies, as only one semester was required. She couldn’t decide which class should fill its place, and every time she found a suitable subject, the times it was offered invariably conflicted with another class.

“Miss Lily is here to see you, Mistress,” Millie the House-elf said, bowing low.

Dorcas dropped the parchment and her quill when her best friend entered the room. She was still in her dressing gown, having not noticed the time.

“I’ll get changed, then we can go shopping.”

“Good idea. A dressing gown would draw even more attention than robes.”

Dorcas disappeared into her closet, searching through the rails of robes for her Muggle clothes. She hadn’t worn them in such a long time. Between classes and Order duties, she was constantly in the wizarding world.

“I would apologize for being late, but it seems you didn’t notice,” Lily called, a hint of laughter in her voice. “We had such a long night. Pete was late arriving for his shift, so James and I waited with Marlene. I didn’t get to bed until at least three.”

“Don’t worry,” Dorcas replied, pulling on a pair of blue jeans. “I only woke up an hour ago. I probably got home around three, too.”

There a long pause during which a mischievous smile stretched across Lily’s lips. “Really? What exactly were you doing between nine and three?”

Dorcas emerged from her closet fully dressed. She stopped short, a pained expression crossing her face as she realized she’d basically told Lily that she had spent six extra hours with Black.

Lily responded by laughing. “Anything interesting happen?”

The brunette scowled deeply. “Nothing I shouldn’t have expected.”

Lily wanted to know more, but Dorcas refused to say. She wouldn’t allow herself to be humiliated by Black like she had been in fourth-year.

“What were you going to tell me last night?” Dorcas asked, changing the subject.

The other woman looked perplexed for a moment. “Oh! Right, well … maybe you should sit down.”

Dorcas lowered her hairbrush and gazed sternly at her best friend. They had only ever had one conversation that started out like that. It had occurred in seventh-year when Lily told Dorcas that she had started dating Potter. Reluctantly, she crossed the room and took a seat on her bed.

Lily was grinning widely, but also looked a bit nervous. She stretched out her left arm and slipped her hand from the sleeve of her sweater. A glittering diamond ring adorned her normally bare fingers. At first glance, Dorcas thought it was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. A moment later, when all the pieces clicked into place, she sighed deeply.

“Oh, Lily. He knocked you up.”

“What? … NO!” Lily exclaimed, slapping her best friend’s arm. “No, he did not.”

“Oh. Well, then why--”

“Because I love him!” Lily sounded exasperated with her friend. “I’ve been telling you this for two years!”

“I know,” Dorcas whined, sounding very much like a young child who was denied dessert before dinner.

“I know you know. James said you came to see him. You would have never gone to him unless you knew how much he cared about me.”

Dorcas’s foul mood slipped away. She should have been mad at Potter, but she was more concerned that Lily was going to yell. She’d seen Lily yell and she never wanted to be on the receiving end.

“You don’t sound angry,” the brunette said slowly.

“Oh, I’m furious! Don’t ever treat me like a damsel in distress again. But Sirius managed to calm me down. He told me how upset you were and that you only told James because you want to make sure nothing happens to me.”

“I’m sorry. It was You-Know-Who, Lily! I didn’t know what else to do. Someone else needed to know, just in case.”

Lily smiled indulgently and wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders. “Forgiven. So, will you be my maid-of-honor or do you hate James so much that you’ll make me ask Petunia?”

Dorcas snorted indignantly. “There is not a chance I’m letting Petunia stand in my place! I’ve earned that right!”

The redhead grinned and laid her head on Dorcas’s shoulder. “I knew you would! Because I would never let anyone else stand in my place at your wedding.”

“You’ve got a while to wait.”

“Really? I was under the impression that you and Sirius were getting along very well these days.”

Dorcas fairly growled at her best friend. “If you ever insinuate that there is something between me and that troll again, I will not hesitate to hex you. I’d eat my wand before I dated that arrogant, insolent prat!”

“Do you want to tell--”

“No, I want to go shopping.”

Their traditional day-after-Christmas shopping started in their second-year, when their mothers had wanted to get to know one another better. Mrs. Meadowes had happily ushered Mrs. Evans around Diagon Alley while Lily showed Dorcas Muggle London. Every year, they spent the whole day shopping at Muggle stores, eating at Muggle restaurants, and topped the day off by exchanging Christmas presents.

Then, it had been a way for Lily to do all the things she loved in the Muggle world and involve her best friend. In the recent years, it had been more of an escape from the escalating war in the wizarding world.

They passed the day as they always did, starting out at Harrod’s and moving on to the antique stores on King’s Road. For lunch, Dorcas insisted on pizza, something she only ate when she was around Lily. After lunch, they took the Underground to Portobello Road and browsed through the pagodas. When they returned to Meadowes Manor that evening, they were so loaded down with bags that Dorcas could scarcely cast the wards on the front gate.

“Lily!” Mr. Meadowes exclaimed. “How have you been?”

“Good. And you?” Lily asked, breathless from lugging around shopping bags all day.

“Here, let me help.”

He waved his wand once and all the bags shot off to Dorcas’s bedroom in a straight line. He inquired about Lily’s studies and was shocked that she wasn’t pursuing a definite career just yet. Dorcas watched her father closely. He looked relieved to see Lily and much happier than Dorcas had seen him for months.

“It’s so good to see you.”

“Remus is coming over later,” Dorcas said.

As she had expected, her father looked even more reassured to hear this. His suspicions about her late night activities must not have been as innocent as she’d hoped. Knowing that she was still friends with Lily and Remus seemed to confirm something for him, and that pained Dorcas. She had hoped her father trusted her enough to let her live her life, but in these dark times, trust seemed hard to come by.

The moon was already up when Remus arrived at Meadowes Manor. From upstairs the women heard Mr. Meadowes greeting him as warmly as he had done with Lily. They had just managed to untangle themselves from the mass of clothes, piles of books, and assortment of Muggle items they had purchased when Remus appeared in the doorway. He laughed at the mess of plastic bags, piles of new Muggle clothes that the young women would only wear a few times, and heaps of shoe boxes.

“Congratulations,” Remus said, smiling at Lily. “James told me.”

“It’s been so long since you’ve been home!” Dorcas exclaimed, embracing him tightly.

“I know, I know. I only just found time to get away because of Christmas. I have to leave tomorrow night. Which reminds me, I’m supposed to pass a message on to you both. There’s an Order meeting tomorrow at eight o’clock. We’re reporting on what we’ve been doing, so make sure you’re there.”

In the two months Dorcas had been in the Order, there hadn’t been any formal meetings, which she had considered very odd. The number of deaths and disappearances had only increased in those months, despite the Order’s and the Ministry’s efforts. She thought Dumbledore would have wanted to share more information.

“So … we get to hear what everybody else is doing finally?”

“Not everybody,” Lily said. “Most people, but Dumbledore wants to keep the identity of the spies as quiet as possible. It’s really just a lot of different people saying the same thing. This family escaped, that one didn’t, we need to guard this person, and stuff like that.”

Dorcas eyed her friends carefully, judging Lily’s nonchalance and Remus’s nodding. It seemed that they knew exactly what to expect, almost like they had been to an Order meeting before. The horrible truth hit her in that moment.

“You’ve been in the Order since before October,” she said quietly, the hurt evident in her voice.

Lily and Remus exchanged worrisome glances, confirming Dorcas’s suspicions.

“Since June,” Lily admitted.

“So, why wasn’t I asked until October?” Dorcas inquired, her voice rising in pitch. “Was it because I’m a duffer Hufflepuff? Dumbledore didn’t think I was brave enough? Or because he just doesn’t trust me?”

“No! He waited because you needed to settle into Healer training. It’s the hardest educational program in the wizarding world, and he didn’t want to interfere with that.”

“So I couldn’t have done anything during the summer? And how do you know that anyway? Because it sounds like that’s your answer, Lily, not Dumbledore’s.”

The redheaded averted her eyes guiltily.

“What? Did he ask your opinion and that’s what you told him?” Her voice was growing steadily louder as her anger rose.

“Don’t take this out on Lily,” Remus said, speaking for the first time. “We were only looking out for you.”

The brunette nodded slowly. “Okay, I can see that. Since I did the same thing to you, Lily, I’m really in no place to hold a grudge. I just have one more question. How long has Black been in the Order?”

For the second time, both of her friends averted their eyes. The momentarily repressed anger returned full force. Black was in the Auror program, the second most difficult training program in the wizarding world, but he had been asked to join before her.

“Sirius won’t take no for an answer,” Remus reasoned. “Dumbledore tried to explain it to him, but he threatened to turn vigilante if Dumbledore didn’t give him something to do.”

“Oh, and I would just sit back and take it calmly?”

“Dorcas,” Lily pleaded. “Please, don’t be angry. You have a very rare and very dangerous gift--”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Lily looked on the verge of tears as she groped for answer. Dorcas felt all of her anger deflate as she stared at her best friend. She felt as though a hundred white-hot knifes had just pierced her heart. Lily didn’t have to respond for Dorcas to know the answer.

“So … what? You advised Dumbledore to watch me for a few months, to make sure I didn’t go join up with the Death Eaters?”

“Dorcas, it wasn’t like that,” Remus said.

“Wasn’t it, Remus? Tell me, have there been Order meetings between when I joined and now?”

The young man turned his gaze towards the carpet, unable to lie to his friend. Dorcas felt angry, hurtful tears welling in her eyes. The truth had finally come out. No one really trusted her, the freak with the dangerous ability. Maybe they never had. Everyone--her father, Dumbledore, her friends--believed that she could turn traitor at any moment, and they had been watching her just as they watched known Death Eaters.

“Get out.”

Lily made a move to reach out for Dorcas, but Remus stopped her.

Dorcas didn’t sleep at all that night. She spent the restless hours sitting at her desk, staring into the black sky, cursing her ability, and pondering her fate. What had began as an idyllic life had transformed into something entirely different. She thought about Dumbledore’s belief that it is choices, not abilities, which define the person. She wondered if it had ever been true. Her ability was the reason she had been labeled as a potential traitor. Perhaps it really was the abilities that defined a person.

Dorcas spent the next day filling out paperwork and trying to keep her mind off of what Lily and Remus had told her the previous night. The meticulous forms for the Healer training program put her into a stupor, which was better than nothing. The term didn’t begin until the middle of January, which gave her three more weeks without a major distraction.

What to do about the Order meeting had been gnawing at her all day. She could go and pretend to not know that no one trusted her. Or she could not go. Or she could drop out of the Order. She knew how childish the last two options were, but they were certainly easier than facing a room full of people and wondering who trusted her and who didn’t. Finally, she decided to follow the advice her mum had always given her. If it’s easy, you’re doing something wrong.

By that evening, what had started out as a dull ache in the back of her head and turned into a throbbing pressure migraine right behind her eyes. Several times she had to extinguish all the candles and lay down with a wet rag on her forehead. Even the Numbing Tonic she took didn’t subdue the pain.

At seven-thirty Dorcas descended the stairs while wrapping a heavy cloak around her shoulders. It had started snowing earlier in the day and there was sure to be a knee-high drift across the lane, so she pulled out her wand as well.

“What’s the Order?” her father’s voice called from the drawing room.

Dorcas paused on the last step. Her brain was frozen, unsure of what to say because she didn’t know how he had found out about the Order. There was the possibility Lily and Remus had told him, but it was doubtful. He might have found out from someone at work, him being in the Magical Law Enforcement Office.

“And why is it so horrible that Lily and Remus joined before you?” he asked, appearing the hallway.

“You were listening to our conversation yesterday?” Dorcas asked incredulously.

Her dad shrugged. “I was passing by and I heard yelling.”

“Seeing as how there are only four rooms upstairs and those are all mine, I don’t see why you would be upstairs. Secondly, my door has had a Silencing Charm on it since third-year, which is why the Ministry sent me the warning for using magic, and the door was shut yesterday. So if you heard our conversation, you cast the countercharm deliberately.”

He took a deep breath. “It is my house.”

Dorcas let out a frustrated growl. “And it’s my privacy!”

“You’ve been using that excuse at lot lately. I want to know where you’ve been.”

“Well, now you know. I’ve been working with Dumbledore for the Order of the Phoenix. We’re what the Ministry calls a vigilante group, so if you want to arrest me, I’ll understand.”

“Drop the attitude, Dorcas! We’re both adults, let’s be civil,” he replied hotly. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Why have you put yourself in harm’s way? I’m a Hit Wizard, I can take care of you, but you have to be honest with me about where you are.”

“Dad, you know that’s not true. A million things could happen to me anywhere, in the wizarding world and the Muggle world. You said that I’m an adult, so let me act like one. I can’t rely on your for everything. I have to protect myself and my secret.”

“You-Know-Who doesn’t know about your ability!”

“But he might find out!” Dorcas countered. The pressure behind her eyes was building the longer this conversation continued. She just wanted to go the meeting. “This is not about you and me, dad. This is about the hundreds of people who could die because You-Know-Who will use me as a weapon. I can’t allow that, dad.”

“If you just tell me where you go, I can keep you safe. I have contacts, Dorcas, and subordinates who will do what I say,” he pleaded.

Dorcas shook her head slowly. “You would guard me rather than the dozens of people those Aurors and Hit Wizards could protect? I can’t allow that either. Dad, if I sit back and do nothing and You-Know-Who finds out about my ability, if he puts me under the Imperius Curse or breaks my mind to find out what I know, the blame lies with me. It’s my responsibility to guard it well.”

Mr. Meadowes looked shocked to hear his own words turned against him. He had said that very same speech to Dorcas when she began learning Occlumency and complained that it was too difficult.

“How is putting yourself in danger guarding your ability? If anything, it’s made you a target!”

Dorcas sighed heavily. “I don’t know, dad! Maybe it’s absolution for the havoc I know I’ll cause one day.”

Dorcas pushed past her father and stepped into the biting wind. She put her head down and melted a path in the snow with her wand tip. Angry tears were stinging her eyes. She hadn’t meant to tell her dad about seeking absolution, and she hadn’t even realized that was why she had joined the Order.

With a sharp turn, Dorcas Apparated just outside the stone archway that led to the Holly Falls housing addition. It wasn’t snowing in London, and the Muggles had shoveled the sidewalk, so Dorcas stowed her wand and hurried through the gate. According to her watch, she had less than five minutes to reach headquarters.

A loud popping sound prompted her to spin around. Instinctively, she pulled out her wand. Peter Pettigrew flattened himself against the stone archway to stay clear of the wand.

“Sorry, Pettigrew. Instinct,” Dorcas said, tucking her wand back into her robes. “We better hurry or we’ll be late.”

Pettigrew looked wary of walking with her to headquarters after she had just threatened him. He always looked so timid, his watery eyes constantly on the move. Dorcas couldn’t fault him for it. He was a poor wizard when it came to dueling and he knew it. She would be apprehensive too if she weren’t good at defense spells. She wasn’t particularly fond of Pettigrew, as he had stood back and let Potter and Black hex innocent students, but she couldn’t pretend that he really had any control over his friends.

“So what are you doing these days?”

“I’m just working for the Order, like James.”

Dorcas resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She reminded herself that people like Pettigrew looked up to people like Potter, as sad as it was.

They reached Number seventeen in record time, and Dorcas pulled the bell. A moment later, Moody’s scarred face appeared through a slit between the door and the jamb.

“Edgar gave me some good fish tonight,” the Auror growled.

Dorcas suppressed her smile as much as she could. “But what if he had caught it from a poisoned lake, Mr. Moody?”

Moody’s face twisted into a smile. “You would have been a good Auror, Meadowes. You catch on quickly.” He turned towards Pettigrew. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Peter Pettigrew.” Moody scowled deeply at the timid-looking young man. “Oh, umm, Pettigrew, what have I called you since second-year?”

The young man shifted uncomfortable. “Owl-killer.”

“It’s him, Mr. Moody.”

The Auror moved aside and let them enter. He grabbed Dorcas’s wrist as she moved past him. “You should’ve asked him that when you first saw him. Remember, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Bet they don’t teach you that at St. Mungo’s, eh?”

“Of a different sort,” Dorcas replied, rubbing her temples. Moody’s yelling had only made her headache worse.

The meeting was about to being when Dorcas entered the room. An odd assortment of witches and wizards were seated at a long wooden table. She knew some people, like her Hogwarts classmates, Healer Bones, and Marlene McKinnon, the welcome witch at St. Mungo’s. Other people she recognized. The redheaded twins Fabian and Gideon Prewett, whom she had met just recently, were sitting beside Dedalus Diggle, whom she had served a guard duty with, and Elphias Doge, an elderly man who lived in Hampshire Village. She refused to make eye contact with Lily, Remus, or Black, but moved towards Marlene.

As Dumbledore stepped out of the fire, the Order members quieted down. Judging by the assortment of chairs surrounding the table, Dorcas assumed that each person had transfigured their own seat. Waving her wand, she produced a cushioned desk chair.

“I didn’t know you were in the Order,” Marlene whispered. “This is my first meeting.”

“Mine too,” Dorcas replied, somewhat bitterly.

The young women turned their attention towards the Hogwarts Headmaster. Dorcas found it hard to concentrate as Dumbledore began the meeting. She wondered who else in the room knew about her ability and distrusted her for it. The more she thought about it, the worse her headache became. The candle flames danced brightly around the room, causing spots of color to dance in front of her eyes.

“There is now a hospital ward here at headquarters, thanks to Dorcas Meadowes.” She tried to nod in acknowledgement, but the slightest movement sent waves of pain through her head. “If it is more convenient for you, or if you feel your injury is suspicious in any way, please come to headquarters rather than St. Mungo’s. Edgar and Dorcas can be contacted by Patronus, and I believe Marlene has some training in these matters as well.”

The rest of the meeting was rather blurry for Dorcas. Dumbledore gave a report about what the spies had found out. She vaguely heard something about the families of Aurors and Hit Wizards being targets, but she had known that long before her mum and sister had been killed. Caradoc Dearborn gave a long list of people he thought might be interested in joining the Order, Moody arranged guard duty for three more families, and Dedalus Diggle reported that unnatural fog had been hanging around Canterbury for three days.

“It is the dementors,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head sadly. “They have joined Voldemort as we always suspected they would.”

A shudder passed through the room, both from the use of the Dark Lord’s name and the mention of dementors.

The meeting barely lasted half an hour, but Dorcas felt as though it had been days since she’d arrived. Her headache was so bad that the room around her was spinning. She shut her eyes to block the light and when she opened them, was surprised to find that the room had cleared out.

“Dorcas?” She looked up sharply at the sound of Lily’s voice. “You don’t look so good. Maybe you should lie down.”

Dorcas rose from her chair, ignoring Lily. She only wanted to get home and sleep. The headache was probably a side effect of being awake for almost twenty-four hours, which was partly Lily’s fault, Dorcas reminded herself.

“Lily’s right, you should lay down,” Black added.

Dorcas scowled at him, wondering why he had even come back into the room. She blinked slowly several times, trying to clear her vision.

“I don’t want to talk to you. Or you, or you,” she said, turning to Lily and Remus in turn.

She hadn’t remembered seeing Remus a moment before. She shrugged it off as just not paying attention, but a warning bell was sounding in the back of her mind. She was sure everyone had left the room, but they couldn’t have left and came back in without her noticing it. She turned for the door only to find Potter blocking her way.

“Meadowes?” he asked, reaching out for her.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. A millisecond before Potter’s fingers touched her forearm, Dorcas realized what was happening. She tried to move away, to block his touch, but it was too late. His fingers closed around her wrist.

Pain like a stabbing knife shot through her head and the room around her disappeared. Vaguely, she felt her knees buckle, but she was already lost to that world. The edges of this reality were blurred, like a reflection rippling in water.

Potter was standing in the drawing room of his home in Godric’s Hollow … a rushing sound … the brilliant green flash of a Killing Curse …

Unknown to her, Dorcas screamed as Potter’s body hit the floor. Having experienced this once before, Lily rushed forward to catch her friend before she fell.

A high, cold laugh filled the room … Lily stumbled backwards … “Stand aside you silly girl!” … A scar shaped like a lightening bolt …

Dorcas sat up, screaming shrilly. Someone wrapped her in a warm embrace and demanded a cold towel. As the world slipped back into focus, Dorcas realized that she was in the hospital ward at headquarters.

“It’s okay. You’re all right,” Lily said softly, smoothing the damp hair away from Dorcas’s forehead.

“I need a moment with Dorcas, if you please, Lily.”

Dorcas peered over her best friend’s shoulder to see Dumbledore waiting calmly. Behind the Headmaster, Remus was gesturing wildly for Black and Potter to shut up. When they cleared out of the room, Dumbledore conjured a chintz armchair beside Dorcas’s bed.

She looked down at the sheets, not in the mood to have her thoughts dissected as Dumbledore had always done after episodes like these. The headache was mostly gone, but the dull ache would stay with her for a few days.

“Perhaps we did not discuss this thoroughly enough,” Dumbledore began sternly.

Dorcas stiffened immediately. She did not want a lecture from the Headmaster about how she hadn’t practiced Occlumency well enough. It wasn’t her fault she was emotionally connected to the world around her. Unlike him, she couldn’t just disengage and stuff away all of her feelings.

“You are in grave danger. Voldemort believes strongly in the power of the supernatural, and you have that power in droves.”

Dorcas bit her tongue. Loosing her temper while receiving a lecture about controlling her emotions would only prove Dumbledore’s point. As much as she hated to admit it, he was partially correct. It was her responsibility to close her mind, no matter the cost to herself. If she didn’t, she could harm hundreds.

“You know the warning signs. When you are under pressure and have these headaches, you know what is coming, or at least you should. There is always a Pensieve waiting for you in my office.” Dorcas only nodded in reply. “Good night. Get some sleep.”

Dorcas rose from her bed a few moments after he was gone. She wasn’t going to give her father any more reason to distrust her, so she was going home whether Dumbledore liked it or not. She stopped short at the door, not expecting to see Lily, Remus, Potter, and Black waiting for her.

The full force of her premonitions hit her at that moment. She had witnessed Potter die, and from what she could recall, he wasn’t much older than he was now when it happened. Lily had faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. No, not past tense. Future tense, she reminded herself. Potter would die soon. Lily would face He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

And Dorcas couldn’t warn them. Lily had made her promise in second-year that she would never, under any circumstance, tell Lily her future or anyone else’s close to her.

A heavy feeling settled into Dorcas’s chest. It constricted her breathing and made movement difficult. She suddenly understood why her parents and Dumbledore had been adamant that Dorcas learn Occlumency.

These premonitions were a burden such as she had never had to carry before. It was her secret. And it would be her undoing. She knew this without using the Sight. Her ability would be her destruction and the destruction of all those whom she loved.


Chapter 6 - Isolate

October Twilight
Chapter Six
“Isolate”

September 5th, 1976
6th Year

Two first-year Ravenclaws darted out of the way as the statue of Taurus the Centaur galloped into the center of the corridor, revealing an arched doorway. Three students, two Gryffindors and one Hufflepuff, with shiny silver Prefect badges pinned to their robes emerged from the room that the Centaur guarded.

“What are you doing down this corridor?” Dorcas demanded.

The younger students gaped silently, shaken by the galloping statue and the hostility from the Hufflepuff.

“Only prefects and Quidditch Captains are allowed down this hall,” Lily said soothingly, holding her grin at bay. “We won’t take points because it’s your first week, but remember not to come further than the winding staircase.”

The students nodded and darted down the hall, not daring to glance over their shoulders. Remus chuckled lightly, but stopped abruptly when Dorcas shot him a dirty look.

“Try not to let your dislike of Ravenclaws drive you to distraction,” Lily laughed, not at all intimidated by her best friend.

“They’re going to turn into arrogant little buggers if we don’t teach them respect.”

Remus led the way down the Prefect Corridor, past the bathrooms, and around the corner. It was nearing dinner time and most of the other prefects had left the lounge already. Dorcas had insisted that Lily and Remus wait with her until she finished mapping out her study schedule.

“And yet, the top students in our year are James, Sirius, Lily, you, and me,” Remus said, grinning innocently.

“We can’t go easy on them! We’ve got to block them, Remus! We’ve got a monopoly on grades, and Gryffindor always wins the Quidditch Cup. We’ve got to make sure they don’t get the House Cup. How about a strategy of guerilla point-taking?”

Lily laughed openly while Remus tried to be more discreet.

“What do you have against Ravenclaw anyway?” Remus wondered. “Most of us dislike Slytherin, and you’re marching to the beat of your own drummer for no apparent reason.”

Dorcas didn’t respond. She had stopped walking and was staring at a group of students at the end of the hallway. They were chatting leisurely and leaning against the banister. Among them were Black and three fourth-year Hufflepuffs. Dorcas squared her shoulders and strode purposefully towards the group. Before she reached them, Black had taken his leave and was strolling down the staircase.

“Gretchen, Rose, Jillian, could I have a word, please?” Dorcas called.

The girls nodded and smiled, happy to see their housemate after a summer apart. Lily dragged Remus down the hallway, anxious to hear what Dorcas was going to say about Black this time.

“What’s up, Dorcas?” Gretchen asked.

“I’m sorry to say that I expected better of Hufflepuffs. We represent kindness, honesty, hard-work, and equality. I’m going to have to take points for this.”

The girl’s smiles had faded during the speech. Lily and Remus were watching their friend in wonderment. She never ceased to amaze them.

“What did we do?” Rose asked, aghast at her error in behavior.

“You’re fraternizing with the antithesis of Hufflepuff characteristics.” The girls exchanged perplexed glances. “Black,” Dorcas added.

Gretchen giggled shrilly. “But he’s so cute.”

Lily, who had been chuckling quietly before, buried her face in Remus’s shoulder to keep from laughing out loud at the look of abject horror on Dorcas’s face. Remus was also trying to keep his laughter in check, but Lily’s shaking shoulders were only making it harder for him.

“That’s not the point! Remember what Professor Sprout always says, ‘Choose your friends wisely because you will become what they are.’ If you take up with the likes of Black, you’ll become arrogant, insolent, and generally abusive.”

“But,” Gretchen said slowly, peering over Dorcas’s shoulder, “Lupin is friends with Sirius, and he’s not any of those things.”

Lily looked up, wanting to see how Dorcas would reply. The brunette’s jaw moved silently for a few moments before she became flustered.

“Remus is a statistical anomaly.”

Lily clamped a hand over her mouth and glanced up at Remus. He looked amused; the fourth-year girls, however, looked confused, clearly not knowing what an anomaly was.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take five points from each of you.”

“What’s your problem, Meadowes?” Black demanded, appearing at the top of the stairs.

Lily and Remus stopped laughing. Remus glanced apprehensively between his two friends, but Lily was itching for a fight. She loved to see Dorcas yell at Black, especially if it accompanied taking points from Gryffindor, because then Lily had an excuse to yell at him too. And Potter, if he was around.

“What are you doing here?” Dorcas demanded.

“We could hear you two floors down droning on about what a bad influence I am. If you want to say something about me, at least say it to my face.”

The Hufflepuff prefect stood up straighter and lifted her chin. “You’re arrogant, insolent, abusive, and the bane of my existence.”

Rather than return her insults, Black grinned slyly. “If that’s so, then why are you wasting your time trying to convince everyone else that it’s true? These girls obviously don’t think so.”

He winked at Gretchen, Rose, and Jillian. Dorcas made a disgusted sound.

“But go ahead and waffle all you want. Nothing you can say will tarnish my reputation. Say whatever you want, Meadowes. The more you ramble about my arrogance, the more conceited you sound. The more you call me insolent, the more stubborn you become. It’s enlightening, really.”

Lily and Remus both groaned. This was going to get ugly, especially for themselves. Dorcas would gloss over it in public, but Lily knew she would be squawking about it for days to come, and Remus would have to first endure Sirius ranting about how naïve and childish Dorcas was, and then Dorcas ranting about how he should make more respectable friends.

“That’s very philosophical, Black, but I think your logic is a bit flawed. Maybe you need some time to rethink it. I’ll have Professor McGonagall contact you about the detention I’m giving you.”

Lily’s grin returned while Remus’s chin dropped to his chest. The three fourth-years were backing away slowly, sensing danger. No one but Lily and Dorcas dared take points away from Black and Potter, and even Lily wouldn’t try to put them in detention.

“Excuse me?”

“Detention, Black. It’s that place where you and Potter spend more time than in class.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can. I’m a prefect--”

“Oh, thank you for pointing that out, like I hadn’t realized from the hundreds of points you’ve taken from me for no reason!” Black replied hotly.

“For no reason!? You go around hexing innocent students--”

“Snivellus isn’t innocent!”

“You and Potter hex anyone who annoys you!”

“Leave James out of this!”

Lily was doubled over and laughing so hard that no sound escaped her throat. Remus was rubbing his forehead and had turned away from the fight, as if to protect himself from the verbal sparring.

“Well, I know how hard it is for a sidekick to function without his superhero, so I thought I’d include him!”

Lily leaned against the wall for support, tears of joy leaking out of her eyes while Remus looked up wide-eyed. Splotches of color appeared on Black’s cheeks and his fists were trembling in rage.

“Well, you’d know all about being a sidekick, wouldn’t you, Meadowes?” he spat.

Dorcas smirked haughtily. “If all you can do is take my insults and use them against me rather than come up something original, then I’ll gladly accept that I’m Lily’s sidekick and take the victory. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do that don’t involve terrorizing younger students and sycophantically trailing after my best friend.”

With that, Dorcas moved past Black and glided down the stairs with her head held high.

*~*~*

January, 1979

Dorcas dropped her knapsack onto the ground and slumped into the hard plastic chair. The food on the cafeteria tray looked soggy and bland, not at all what she wanted after a stressful day of exams in Practical Studies and History of Healing. She tried to console herself by being grateful that it wasn’t Muggle Remedies, but the gratitude wouldn’t come. Healer Riggnold was as soporific as Professor Binns had been. She couldn’t find the interest in diseases like spattergroit that had never really existed except in the primeval minds of medieval Healers.

She dug out her Treating Lycanthropy textbook and propped it open against the napkin dispenser. She knew most of the information from personal experience, but she tried to ignore that. She hadn’t spoken to Remus, or Lily for that matter, since the night she’d had the visions at Holly Falls a month earlier. She was angry at them for not trusting her entirely, but more than that, she was angry at herself for ignoring the warning signs of the coming visions and furious that Lily had made her promise to never talk about her visions.

“I would have thought you were an expert in lycanthropy.”

Dorcas peered over the top of her book, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. Black was the last person Dorcas had ever expected to come find her in the St. Mungo’s cafeteria. He was dressed in his black Auror robes and had a full knapsack slung over his shoulder.

“Don’t you have a class to attend or a fellow trainee to practice hexes on?”

Black only raised his eyebrows in response to her snappy comments. His calm reaction did nothing to make her feel better about her day. Sighing, she closed the textbook.

“It’s been a bad day.”

Black took that as an invitation to sit down. Dorcas bit back a harsh comment, but rolled her eyes and turned back to her food. The mashed potatoes weren’t as horrible as they looked, but the chicken and noodles were disgusting.

“Hospital food will make you sick.”

“Lucky I know the cure for food-related illnesses.”

A sly smile crept onto Black’s lips. “So you do.”

“Did you come here for a reason? Do you need an exam? A lobotomy? I’d be happy to do the latter.”

Unfortunately, Black had never taken a Muggle Remedies class and didn’t understand what a lobotomy was. She was growing tired of this banter. She had a class in twenty minutes and a test an hour after that. She wanted to eat and study, not deal with Black’s superior attitude.

Black pulled a plain cream-colored envelope from his bag and held it out to her.

“What’s this?” she asked, not accepting it.

“I wanted to … make it up to you. You know, about Christmas.” He was rubbing the back of his neck and had averted his eyes. “And to say Happy Birthday.”

Dorcas studied him silently, contemplating his motives. She hadn’t ever known Black to feel indebted to anyone, much less a girl he honored by kissing. Lily had probably told him it was her birthday, but she couldn’t fathom why Black would get her a card, if that’s what the envelope contained.

The truth was, her day had been horrible because it was her birthday. Lily and Remus had both sent owls with cards and presents, but it wasn’t the same without a small party to celebrate. Her father had handed her an envelope with fifty Galleons inside, like that was supposed to smooth the rift between them. Only Darius’s letter had been truly a joy to read. He was doing great at Hogwarts and wished her the best nineteenth birthday.

Dorcas accepted the envelope and tore it open along one edge. She pulled out two rectangular sections of parchment. The sheet on top read: Holyhead v. Puddlemere United.

“I don’t know why the city of Holyhead is relevant to my birthday, and I don’t know what Puddlemere United is, but I do know that this is not an apology.”

Black looked completely baffled. His jaw worked silently and he gestured wildly at the sheets of paper on the table. Dorcas stood up from her seat, grabbed her bag, and turned towards the exit.

“Why would I apologize for doing something I’ve wanted to do since I first met you?” Black called.

Halfway across the cafeteria, Dorcas paused. Several Healers and all of her classmates were gazing between herself and Black curiously. Normally, she would have ignored him or yelled at him, but something about his tone of voice intrigued her. She turned slowly and walked back over to him so that their whole conversation wasn’t gossip fodder.

“You’ve done that twice now, and both times I responded less than favorably. So, you think you’d learn your lesson.”

“Actually, you’ve kissed me back both times.”

Now it was Dorcas’s turn to gape silently. She couldn’t honestly deny kissing Black in fourth-year, but she was sure she hadn’t on Christmas. At least, she didn’t think … No, she wouldn’t have … She was almost sure … Sort of.

“I know you’ll never believe I have honest intentions, and I can accept that because I usually don’t when it comes to beautiful women. But I thought you could use a friend at the moment, seeing as how you’re not speaking to yours. If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

Black walked away, leaving Dorcas with her jaw hanging open. She had never in her life expected an interlude like that. Then again, she hadn’t expected a lot of things lately.

“Shocking, huh?” Marlene said, appearing beside Dorcas. The Healer trainee started, not having heard the welcome witch walk up. “Of course, he always had a thing for you at school.”

Dorcas stared at the older blonde woman, wondering why Marlene McKinnon even remembered her from Hogwarts. They were no less than four years apart, and Marlene had been one of the vapid popular girls who swooned over boys like Potter and Black. She wasn’t like that anymore, but Dorcas clearly remembered evenings in the common room when all Marlene could talk about was how great of a Chaser Amos Diggory was.

“I’m sorry. What? Black has always had a what for me?”

Marlene broke into a smile. “A thing. You know, he thought you were pretty and wanted to date you.”

“Oh.” Dorcas knew that much.

“He just wasn’t as pathetic as Potter.”

Dorcas actually laughed. “Are you comparing Black’s crush on me to Potter’s infatuation with Lily? That’s absurd, Marlene! Sirius Black doesn’t waste time chasing girls who don’t want him. He’s only interested in hero worship.”

“Oh, yeah? And how many times has he gone out of his way to be nice to you?”

Dorcas’s smile faltered. She had found it odd that Black had left the Evans’s right when she did and that he had came after her at Godric’s Hollow, but it wasn’t proof of Marlene’s argument.

“You’re wrong,” she stated finally. “He just wants a good shag and a trophy girl. I could be both, that’s all it is.”

“You could be a good shag for Sirius, could you?” Marlene giggled.

“Haha. You twisted my words around and made me look like I want Black. How incredibly not funny. Don’t ever do it again,” she said with a false smile plastered on her lips.

Marlene laughed good-naturedly. “My break is over, and you have class, so I’ll end the discussion for today, but this isn’t over.”

Dorcas spent the rest of the day distracted by Black. She became furious every time she realized where her thoughts had drifted. She didn’t want to think about that irksome man, but she couldn’t help it. His unexpected visit was torturing her. Clearly, he had come to St. Mungo’s during his lunch break, but why? Was it really to specifically see her? And even if it wasn’t, his words and behavior were driving her crazy. She completely disagreed with Marlene’s interpretation, but couldn’t come up with her own. What made Black so confident that she would talk to him after Christmas? On second thought, he hadn’t been all that cocky. She was talking herself in circles and it was frustrating her to no end.

“Miss Meadowes?” Healer Bradley’s voice shattered her preoccupied reverie.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure I understand the question,” Dorcas said, automatically using the line that Professor Slughorn had always fallen for.

“I’ll rephrase. When is it acceptable to use monkshood to cleanse werewolf bites?”

Dorcas smiled slightly. “Yes, I understand now, thank you. Never. A werewolf, no matter how newly bitten, will have a severe reaction to monkshood that could include seizures, coma, or death.”

With that flawless save, Healer Bradley let the students leave early. Dorcas headed to the atrium where she would Apparate to Holly Falls. Moody had reported a large number of Aurors being injured around Iona and Arran Island. Dorcas, Fabian Prewett, and Moody were going there after nightfall to see what they could find.

The routine of attending class and meeting up with Order members continued for a week. Dumbledore seemed to have been informed that Dorcas wasn’t on the best terms with Lily and Remus because she hadn’t seen either of her friends in a month, not even to switch guard shifts. She had been subjected to a night of Potter ranting about how she was hurting Lily’s feelings. That was the only time Dorcas had ever been grateful to see a Death Eater. His hour-long speech was cut short to trail the Lestrange brothers.

Throughout all of the classes, guard shifts, and scouting missions, Dorcas was constantly haunted by one question: Who or what was Puddlemere United? And what did it have to do with the city of Holyhead? She had asked Gideon Prewett, but he’d only laughed hysterically until Dorcas walked away without an answer.

Black was still bothering her, even a week after he’d shown up at St. Mungo’s. She came to the conclusion that the gesture counted for something, even if she didn’t know what. He’d given her a birthday present, and she had been incredibly rude to him. Why he was offering her friendship when Remus and Lily weren’t talking to her, she couldn’t imagine. The fact remained that Dorcas needed someone who understood her situation and she thought that Black might.

She made her decision the following Thursday. She had just arrived at Headquarters after sitting a shift with Marlene and was ready to report in, go home, and sleep all day. When she approached the kitchen, she overheard Caradoc Dearborn and Moody discussing possible Death Eaters.

“No, not Black. He’s a damn fine dueler, good Auror material. Maybe his family, but not him.”

“You sure, Alastor? I’ve heard rumors about his younger brother.”

“I tell you, Dearborn, not Sirius Black!”

The following night, after completing her final class of the week, Dorcas Apparated to the building where Black lived. She almost wished the lights hadn’t been on, then she wouldn’t have had to come to Black with her tail between her legs. His ego didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he had been correct.

She pulled the bell and waited for several moments before the door opened. She almost dropped her armload of books in surprise. Black had answered the door in naught but a towel, and his hair and muscular torso were dripping wet. She stared at him for a few moments before she realized what she was doing and turned her head away.

“I’ll come back some other time,” she said distractedly.

“No, no. It’s all right. Come in.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think it is,” she muttered, still looking away.

Black had walked away, leaving the door wide open. Dorcas rationalized that it really wasn’t safe to stand on the doormat or leave the door wide open in the middle of a war, so she stepped inside and closed it behind herself.

“I’ll be right out,” Black called from somewhere down the hallway that was still full of dirty clothes.

Dorcas waited awkwardly in the sitting room while Black found some clean clothes in the piles all around the flat. Like the last time she had been to his flat, she was baffled by the amount of fur all over the place.

When Black entered the sitting room fully dressed, Dorcas took a seat on the sofa, wondering where to begin. While she struggled to find the words, Black summoned two butterbeers from the kitchen. He waited patiently, already knowing what she wanted to say, but being surprisingly modest about it.

“I’m sorry … that I was so … rude to you last week.” Dorcas forced the apology, not liking to give Black the satisfaction, but knowing that it needed saying.

“No problem.”

Dorcas gaped at him. “What?”

Black grinned in amusement. “No problem. It means, don’t worry about it. It’s forgiven.”

Dorcas wasn’t sure what to make of this sudden humility, but she wasn’t going to ruin it by commenting on it. Either she would inadvertently flirt with Black or insult him to the point where he would get defensive. Dorcas sipped her butterbeer, glancing at Black from the corner of her eye.

“Is there something else?” he asked.

“Oh … yeah.” She cleared her throat, feeling like an idiot for asking the question. “Who or what is Puddlemere United?”

“I knew you were intrigued,” Black laughed. “Puddlemere is the Quidditch team playing the first match of the season against the Holyhead Harpies.”

“They’re playing Quidditch in the middle of a war? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“We need something to lighten the mood.” He shrugged. “Besides, the matches are crawling with security wizards and medics.”

“Oh. So … why did you give me Quidditch tickets for my birthday?” Dorcas didn’t want to sound rude and bring up the fact that she didn’t like or understand Quidditch.

“To show you what you’ve been missing. It’s a great game! I’ll explain it to you.”

Black spent the next hour rambling about Quaffles and Keepers and the different teams in the league. Dorcas wasn’t so much interested in the Quidditch as in Black’s sudden behavior change. She was amazed by the boyish quality he possessed when speaking so passionately about the sport. He was totally different than the boy who used to strut around Hogwarts Castle with one arm around a giggling girl and the other hexing innocent students.

“… that’s why I liked being a Beater.”

Dorcas was snapped out of her daydreams when Black stopped talking. She had barely registered anything he said. She knew as much about Quidditch as she had an hour earlier.

“Well, thanks for the tutorial, but I need to get home. It’s getting late, and I have classes early tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Black groaned. Dorcas stood up and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “So, will you go to the match?”

She really didn’t want to go to a Quidditch game. She thought she’d seen enough at Hogwarts to last her a lifetime, but she couldn’t deny that she almost liked spending time with Black. Despite his rambling around broomsticks, he seemed more pleasant towards her than he ever had. Maybe it was the conversation she’d overheard, but she thought she was beginning to understand Black like she never had before. It was a difficult thing, escaping preconceptions.

“Sure, why not?”

“Great.” Black rose from his chair. “I’ll Apparate home with you.”

“What?” Dorcas asked, chuckling. “I’m a big girl. I can manage to Apparate home all right.”

He studied her curiously. “Didn’t you hear Dumbledore? Families of Aurors and Hit Wizards are in danger.”

“I’ve known that for a long time.”

“It’s different now. The Death Eaters are picking off family members one-by-one. Your dad is one of the best Hit Wizards there is. They’ll stop at no lengths to take revenge for all of the Death Eaters he’s sent to Azkaban.”

Dorcas sighed wearily. She really was very tired of having this conversation. “I know all of this. I scored second-highest on the Defense N.E.W.T, right behind you. I’m a good dueler, and even if I wasn’t, my dad is home and he’s an expert.”

“Dumbledore said we should …”

Dorcas turned sharply, abandoning the clasp of her cloak. The hostility in her glare startled Black, who had always known her to be gentle, if a little emotional.

“Is that what this is all about, the Quidditch tickets and inviting me over anytime? You’re keeping an eye on me, just like Lily and Remus?”

“It’s not like that, Meadowes. I don’t want to come with you to make sure you’re not meeting up with Death Eaters. I just want to make sure you get home safely.”

“So why the sudden interest?”

Black looked down at the carpet and ran a hand through his hair. When he answered, he didn’t look up and spoke so quietly that Dorcas had to strain to hear him. “Because it could easily be me they all suspect.”

Dorcas wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She had assumed something along those lines, but wasn’t prepared for him to admit it.

“You’d better take my arm then, unless you know where I live.”

Black slipped his arm through the crook in her elbow and held on tightly as she turned sharply. Side-along Apparation was especially uncomfortable and slow. A moment later, Dorcas and Black arrived in Hampshire Village feeling winded from the prolonged pressure.

“Good old Hampshire Village, population six hundred and four,” Dorcas joked.

“Make that six hundred and three,” Black said seriously, pointing into the night sky.

Dorcas felt her heart skip a beat as she turned around. Floating over the copse of trees where her house was hidden some half a mile away was the green, glittering Dark Mark.


Chapter 7 - Morsmordre

October Twilight
Chapter Seven
“Morsmordre”

January 9th, 1978
7th Year

An oppressive silence hung over the professors and students as they walked through the halls of Hogwarts Castle. The long procession had begun on the seventh floor at Gryffindor Tower, wound around to Ravenclaw Tower, down the marble staircase to Hufflepuff Cellar, and through the labyrinthine halls to Slytherin Dungeon. Professor Dumbledore and the Heads of House led the long line of silent students all dressed in black robes.

There were no House rivalries on the first day back after Christmas holiday. Every House had lost members during the Christmas Eve Raid. The Great Hall had been draped with blank black banners and all the candles extinguished. The only light came from the single candle held by each student.

Silently, they filed into the Hall and began the long, solemn walk around the room. The tables had been pushed against the walls, leaving an open chasm in the very center of the Great Hall. Smiling photographs of the deceased students sat on the House tables and the High Table. Twenty-seven students and two professors had died on Christmas Eve. In all, Death Eaters had murdered sixty people that day.

With her head bowed, Dorcas moved past the portraits of Geraldine Hart, Stefan Comte, and Michaela McVeirden. Tears blurring her vision and staining her cheeks, she stopped in front of Annabel’s memorial. The photo had been taken the day before sixth-year began. Dorcas had been in the studio, laughing raucously with Annabel’s Muggle sister. It had been sweltering that day, but Mrs. Knight had insisted that Annabel wear her cloak and Hufflepuff scarf for one picture. Under enchanted snow, sweating profusely, and with her owl perched on her arm, Annabel had forced a smile.

Dorcas laid down the bouquet of yellow roses below Annabel’s picture. Professor Sprout, pressing a handkerchief to her cheeks, patted Dorcas softly on the back. She presented a writhing green plant in a clay pot, but couldn’t find the words to describe why she would leave such an ugly flower for Annabel. But she didn’t need to. Dorcas remembered vividly how she and Annabel had accidentally caused their mandrake to choke on a rock and die in second-year.

Inappropriate as it seemed, Dorcas couldn’t contain her laughter. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as her laughs turned to sobs.

Professor Sprout moved on to the next memorial for Skylar Pierce, a hopelessly timid second-year. Lily appeared beside Dorcas and wrapped her arms around her best friend’s shoulders. They stood there silently, their foreheads pressed together for what seemed like hours. Only when the other seventh-year Hufflepuffs approached did Dorcas and Lily leave to give them some privacy.

The memorials seemed to go on forever. The more faces of deceased students Dorcas saw, the less she could distinguish between those who were her friends and those she didn’t know. The tragedy was too great to grieve for some and not for others.

Lines of students formed at the High Table to pay their last respects to Professor Sayid and Professor Mitchell. Dorcas had never taken a Muggle Studies course, but she had always wondered about quirky Professor Mitchell and his fascination with Muggle ink pens. He always had great splotches of blue ink on his robes and a vibrant orange pen tucked behind his ear. Professor Sayid had been the seventh and best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor they had ever had. Dorcas had learned more in one term with him than in six years combined.

Slowly, the students left the Great Hall and returned to their common rooms. Lily and Dorcas passed groups of students tearfully departing the memorials of their friends. Dorcas glanced over her shoulder at Annabel’s picture one last time. It didn’t seem real that such a young life could be snubbed out so cruelly. Annabel had so much talent and so many dreams that would never been fulfilled.

Just like all the others, she thought sadly.

Her eyes fell on a group of young boys huddled around Tyson Sander’s memorial. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes as she spotted Darius among them. Her little brother, so young and full of life, was bidding farewell to his best friend. All of Hogwarts had been scarred by this tragedy. She prayed that this never happened again. She prayed that her little brother and sister could be spared the losses inevitable in war.

*~*~*

February 3rd, 1979

“No!” Dorcas screamed.

Her shrill cry rent the night air. Vaguely, she felt Black grasping at her arm, but she jerked away from him. Her legs pumped of their own volition, carrying her the half mile to her house. Her vision blurred with adrenaline and tears, but the ugly skull and snake glittering brightly above Meadowes Manor taunted her and urged her on.

In Hampshire Village, the Muggles were standing on their front steps, pointing curiously at the Dark Mark, unaware of how much danger they were in. There could be Death Eaters or Inferi or dementors anywhere, but they didn’t know this and continued to gawk at the mass of green stars without realizing the gravity of the situation.

The cold winter air burned Dorcas’s lungs, but she refused to stop running. She could think only of her father sitting in the drawing room waiting for her to come home. They had been on such bad terms since Halloween. If anything happened to him, they would be eternally parted without ever making amends. In the back of her mind, she was also thinking of her Uncle Malcolm, their Secret Keeper. Clearly Death Eaters had found their home, and that meant either he was dead and the Fidelius Charm broken or he had been tortured into giving up the information.

She stumbled at the gate, crashing to the frozen ground. She thought she had tripped on a rock, but realized a moment later that Black had caught up and was keeping her from entering the grounds. The wrought iron gate had been blown off its hinges. The intertwined M’s, the place where Dorcas had placed the wards, had been reduced to a pool of melted metal.

Looking up, Dorcas saw why Black had restrained her. Great billows of black smoke were rising from the burning house. The naked branches of the ancient trees surrounding Meadowes Manor showed signs of the duel that had taken place. One trunk had been split in two and had crushed the western portion of the house.

Dorcas slumped onto the ground with her legs folded awkwardly under her. She felt Black’s breath grazing her cheek, almost like he was whispering to her, but she couldn’t distinguish any words. She could only hear the creaking of the burning beams and the crackle of the flames. Her father was nowhere to be seen and the fire had overwhelmed the house.

A high-pitched squeal snapped Dorcas out of her daze. She squinted into the darkness, searching for the source of the noise. The brilliant green light of a Killing Curse lit up an area to the left just long enough for Dorcas to see Millie the House-elf crashing through the forest before she fell over dead.

Without thinking, Dorcas sprinted forwards. Black cursed loudly as she pulled away from him and followed after her with his wand out.

Dorcas stumbled through the woods, tripping over logs and snagging her clothes on briars while looking for Millie. She could hear Black behind her and another person to her left, most likely the Death Eater who had killed Millie. Her foot caught on a knot of brambles, and she collapsed into a shallow snow bank. For a moment, she could concentrate only on finding her breath.

She looked up slowly, squinting into the darkness. The canopy of evergreen branches overhead blocked out the moon and stars, but the fire from the house cast eerie orange-tinged shadows through the thick trees. She could make out a large dark shape a few feet in front of her.

“Lumos!” she whispered, pulling out her wand.

When the soft blue light appeared, the rustling to her left ceased and was replaced by a loud whooshing sound. She threw herself to the ground just in time to dodge the Killing Curse sent in her direction. It hit a tree, which groaned against the force of the Curse and burst into flame.

“Stupefy!” she heard Black call.

The light from the burning tree and flash of Black’s Stunner illuminated the dark shape on the ground. Dorcas felt her insides lurch.

She stared in horror at the lifeless body of her father. He was lying face down in the dirt, his blank gray eyes staring at Millie’s dead body. His face was contorted as if he had been uttering a complicated spell when the Killing Curse hit him, and his wand was still clutched in his hand. From his positioning, Dorcas could only assume he had been hit from behind. Horror turned to disgust and anger as she realized how her father had been murdered.

“Nox!” she whispered.

The light extinguished, plunging the woods into semi-darkness. Black and the Death Eater were still somewhere in the woods, both creeping through the snow as silently as possible. She checked her anger, breathing slowly and deeply like Dumbledore had taught her. She had to make sure not to hurt Black and that meant she needed clarity.

For five seconds she focused completely on the image of her father’s dead body. She let the emotions swell and fester. Then she stuffed them away into the deepest recesses of her mind. Her Occlumency defenses firmly in place, she began searching for the Death Eater still lurking in the forest.

It seemed as though Dorcas stood in the woods for hours listening for the slightest hint of movement. The Death Eater probably wouldn’t be aware that the Anti-Apparation wards covered the entire Meadowes Estate. Just as she suspected, a cloud of misty pink stars appeared several hundred feet away. The Death Eater had tried to Apparate on the fringes of the woods and triggered the wards.

“Vestigor!” Dorcas cried, pointing her wand at the pink stars.

The Tracking Charm would follow the Death Eater no matter how cleverly he concealed his presence. With the wand lying on her palm, Dorcas chased after the Death Eater. He had half a mile to run before he could Disapparate, and she was sure she could catch up to him. She might not have been athletic enough for Quidditch, but she had never lost a game of Tag or Capture the Flag. No one could outrun Dorcas, especially not a cowardly Death Eater who murdered a man from behind.

She crashed through the woods and emerged in the barren field between Meadowes Manor and Hampshire Village. The moon bathed the field in cold blue light and reflected off the ankle deep snow. The Death Eater shot a few spells over his shoulder, but he seemed intent on escaping.

Dorcas sprinted after him, leaping through the snow as agile as a deer, except that she was the predator. When she was only a few yards from the Death Eater, she gripped her wand and pointed it at the fleeing wizard.

“Captus Tractium!”

A tongue of bright orange flame like a whip wrapped around the Death Eater’s legs. He stumbled and fell face first into the snow. Dorcas closed the distance between herself and the Death Eater as the spell dissolved and he jumped to his feet.

“Did you kill my father?” she demanded, her wand pointing at the Death Eater’s chest.

She was the same height as the Death Eater, but purposefully avoided eye contact. She had shut away her emotions for the moment, but Dumbledore had warned her that many Death Eaters were skilled Legilimens.

A wave of pain consumed Dorcas. Every fiber of her being screamed for release from the total agony. Just as quickly, the Cruciatus Curse lifted, leaving Dorcas panting and sprawled in the snow. She moved her head slowly, her eyes traveling up the black robes to stop at the masked face. She was in over her head and she knew it. The Death Eater hadn’t so much as whispered the incantation, but had cast a very powerful Unforgivable Curse. Her eyes darted to the wand pointed at her forehead. At any moment, he could kill her and she wouldn’t know it until she saw the green light and heard the rushing sound.

Dorcas and the Death Eater stared at one another for a pregnant moment. The destruction of Meadowes Manor and her father’s murder were not the work of only one wizard, and so this Death Eater might not have murdered her father, but he would know who did. She was as good as dead if she didn’t do something. Her eyes darted towards the white picket fence just twenty feet away. Beyond the fence, she could Apparate, but she couldn’t leave Black behind. The Death Eater followed her line of sight, and putting the pieces together, began walking backwards with his wand still pointing at her.

Dorcas shifted her weight to her knees, ignoring the stabbing pains left behind in the wake of the Cruciatus Curse. He was waiting to strike until he could safely Disapparate. She would have to make her move now or he would escape and she would never know who had killed her father.

Dorcas took a deep breath, summoning all her mental energy. She would have to do this without a wand or the Death Eater would block it, which would be a disaster. She stared directly into the black depths of the wizard’s eyes. Next moment, he stumbled backwards, caught unaware by the force of her mental attack.

Two images had barely flashed behind her eyes before a powerful Occlumency shield forced her out of his mind. But two images were enough. She knew who had murdered her father.

The Death Eater struck back just as quickly and forcefully as Dorcas had.

Dumbledore was inspecting her wand … the Whomping Willow was frozen … Potter’s body lay motionless at the foot of the stairs while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named walked past him …

Just as Dorcas raised her wand to repel the Legilimency, she felt a spell brush past her arm, and the Death Eater was thrown into the fence so forcefully that the wood splintered. Black was only a few feet behind her, his wand still raised. When she turned back towards the fence, the Death Eater had Diapparated.

Dorcas and Black looked at one another silently, both breathing heavily with wands still clutched in their fists. Dorcas couldn’t find the words to thank Black, who had probably saved her from another Cruciatus Curse. The full weight of the situation was settling in now that she knew who had murdered her father and what she had done to find out his identity. Dumbledore would be furious with her.

Dorcas moved past Black and began the long trek back to her burning home. She glanced briefly at the crowd of Muggles standing beneath the town sign. Obliviators were already moving through the throng and a group of Aurors led by Moody approached Dorcas and Black from the same direction.

“You two all right? No injuries?” Moody growled.

Dorcas couldn’t bring herself to answer so she just kept walking towards the house. She moved almost automatically in the direction of the woods. Behind her, Black whispered to Moody. She couldn’t hear the words, but she knew what he was saying.

The immediate threat was gone, but the tragedy was just beginning. Dorcas had never reconciled with her father, and she knew that she would be forever haunted by their final argument. She and Darius were alone now, both of their parents and innocent little sister dead within a year. Malcolm Meadowes would have died before betraying his brother, and so her cousins and aunt had lost a father and a husband, if they hadn’t been killed as well.

She fell to her knees beside her father’s body. Everything had been in vain--the Fidelius Charm, the carefully placed locks, the wards on the property--they had done nothing but lull Dorcas into a false sense of security. Her father was among the highest ranking Hit Wizards at the Ministry, but even he wasn’t invincible. Just like her mum and Calliope, he had fallen to a Killing Curse.

“We need to take you to Holly Falls,” Black said quietly, placing a hand on Dorcas’s shoulder.

She pulled away from his touch and shook her head. “No.”

“The Aurors will take care of … things,” he replied, his voice sounding strained. “You need to see a Healer.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, sitting back on her knees.

“You’re bleeding.” Black reached forward tentatively, in case she recoiled again, and illuminated her forearm with his wand tip.

The wound was a gaping cut like one from a weakly cast Severing Charm. The snow around her was stained red from the seeping wound. Strangely, she didn’t feel anything and couldn’t remember where it had come from. The sight of her own blood sobered her enough to control her emotions. With a shaky breath, she focused her mind on the image of a pacing sphinx. As the Occlumency shield settled into place, Dorcas climbed to her feet.

“The Aurors have removed the Anti-Apparation ward for now. We can leave from here,” Black said.

Dorcas nodded absently, her eyes still focused on her father’s body. “Not to Holly Falls.”

Black hesitated. “Moody said Dumbledore--”

“I’m not talking to Dumbledore tonight. I don’t feel like having my mind invaded and being scolded for what he sees there. Take me somewhere else.” The tone in her voice brooked no argument.

Black glanced around, searching for a reason not to agree. The Aurors were extinguishing the fire with their wands, and a group of Emergency Medi-Wizards had arrived to collect Mr. Meadowes’s body.

“All right,” he sighed, linking his arm with Dorcas’s. “Stay close.”

Next moment, they were standing outside Black’s apartment complex. Dorcas was irritated that he’d felt the need to guide her to a place she’d been before, but she didn’t mention it. She couldn’t find the energy to snap at him.

Everything seemed surreal to Dorcas. She felt two steps removed from the crowded London street and the people bustling past her, like she was witnessing the scene in a Pensieve instead of actively participating. Her tears had dried up and her mind gone blank. The oppressive Occlumency defense she had been trained to use at all times blocked out the more painful emotions from her consciousness and separated her from the world around her.

She followed Black up the stairs and into his flat. The piles of empty bottles had grown and the dirty clothes now spilled over from the hallway into the sitting room. Black steered her to the sofa and knelt down in front of her.

“Any special complications I should know about?” he asked, pointing his wand at Dorcas’s injured forearm. When she shook her head, Black said, “Claudio Corpus!”

If she hadn’t been so numb to everything around her, she would have been impressed. The cut sealed over and Black dressed it with transfigured bandages.

“If it weren’t for your aversion to blood, you’d make a good Medi-Wizard.”

Black was looking at her strangely, almost like he was seeing her for the first time. “If you want to talk …”

She shook her head. “Not now.”

Black ran one hand through his dark hair, looking awkwardly at the carpet as he did so. “If you ever want to … I’ll … be here.”

Dorcas forced a smile onto her lips, but it didn’t fool Black. “Thank you.”

How long they sat in Black’s drawing room staring at the fire they never knew. Dorcas’s mind was painfully blank. She didn’t usually hide every thought and feeling with Occlumency, but she knew that if she let one thread out, her defenses would be destroyed.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be looking for her now. If the Death Eater hadn’t pieced together the images he’d seen, then the Dark Lord would. She had to keep her defenses strong regardless of the pain it caused her. If she didn’t, hundreds could die because of her mistake.

“You should rest.”

“I can’t.”

“It’s not healthy--”

“I’m the trainee Healer, thanks. I think I know what is and isn’t healthy. Right now, sleeping is the worst remedy.”

Black’s brow furrowed as he tried to understand her meaning. “I really think--”

“You can think all you want, but you don’t know everything! I’ve done something stupid and if I sleep, I’ll only make it worse!”

“What did you do?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Black made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. “How convenient.” He was silent for a few minutes, but Dorcas barely registered the time it took him to respond. “At least have some tea.”

Dorcas grunted noncommittally. Black disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Dorcas alone with her thoughtless staring. It was somehow harder to deal with the silence inside her head without someone else in the room. When Black returned with the tea, she sipped it tentatively, not trusting him to prepare anything properly. It wasn’t the best, but it was strong and the caffeine would keep her awake for a few more hours at least.

It was only when her eyelids began to feel heavy that she noticed a funny taste in the tea, like ground clover. She glared at Black, not at all surprised to see that he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“How much did you put in here?” she demanded.

“Two ounces.”

“Two ounces in an eight ounce cup of tea!? You’re an idiot, Black.”

She tried very hard to keep her eyes open, but caffeine mixed with undiluted clover was almost impossible to resist. According to her calculations, she would sleep for twelve and a half hours. Of course, Black hadn’t thought to give her anything for dreamless sleep. The last thing she remembered was the orange light of the fire dancing in the hearth.

Exactly twelve and a half hours later, Dorcas’s senses return to her one by one. Her skin felt very hot and her head ached from too much sleep. The room around her was pitch black except for a sliver of light coming from under the door. She pushed herself up slowly, squinting into the darkness. She could just make out a large shape in the farthest corner of the room and a window covered with heavy drapes on the opposite wall. She struggled with the heavy duvet, finally kicking it clean off the bed.

It was the squeaking of bedsprings that caused her to pause. She couldn’t be in her own bed, but she also didn’t remember falling asleep.

The newest song from Full Moon Blush, her favorite band, crackled over the Wizard Wireless Network from a few rooms away. Dorcas pulled out her wand cautiously and whispered, “Lumos!”

The blue light illuminated a room not unlike her own bedroom. The large piece of furniture in the corner turned out to be a bookcase just as cramped and overflowing as her own. A dresser with all the drawers open and robes spilling out stood between the bookshelf and door. The floor was hidden by mounds of clothes, mostly discarded black robes with intertwined silver M’s on the right lapel.

“Black,” Dorcas whispered, remembering the tea laced with clover.

She relaxed against the headboard for a moment before the events of the previous day returned to her. The Dark Mark … Meadowes Manor on fire … her father’s body … the Death Eater. She sat up suddenly; panic sending a surge of adrenaline through her body.

The Death Eater would have told He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named about what he had seen. The Dark Lord would want her on his side now. And Black had made her sleep, a state in which her mind was more vulnerable than at any other time. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named couldn’t do anything to her over long distances, but who was to say that he didn’t know where she was? It would only take a Location Charm, a spell ridiculously easy for a wizard like the Dark Lord, to find her.

Dorcas rose from the bed purposefully and strode into the hallway. Black was kneeling in front of the fire, talking with James Potter’s head. Her plan to scold Black was ruined by Potter’s head, so Dorcas flopped onto the couch, scowling at nothing in particular. A few minutes later, Potter disappeared.

“I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.”

Dorcas arched any eyebrow. “And here I thought you gave me clover out of the goodness of your heart.”

Black looked at her curiously. “Are you … I mean … Do you need anything?”

“What’s that look about?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “I just thought some sleep might … maybe you’d want to talk …”

“I don’t.”

Black sat back in the reclining chair, once again studying Dorcas thoughtfully. “How are you so calm about this? It’s not like you, Meadowes. You were always so emotional about stuff.”

Dorcas swallowed thickly. “I know Occlumency.”

“How did you ….” He stopped himself from finishing the question, realizing the answer might make the situation worse. “It’s not really supposed to be used for--”

“I know that,” Dorcas replied coldly. She stood up abruptly. “I should go see my family now.”

Black was still gazing at her closely. “Dorcas, it’s okay to be upset. Your dad just died.”

“I know that!” Dorcas cried.

She reeled backwards, trying her hardest to push down the emotions surging through her after being shut behind the Occlumency shield for so long. She couldn’t stem the flow once it began. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes and her lower lip trembled. Black guided her back to the sofa and sat beside her, his hand moving in comforting circles on her back.

“I know that both of my parents are dead and that Darius and I are alone now. I know that the last thing I said to my dad was that he was unreasonable and I wanted to move back to London. I know that my dad’s brother and his whole family are probably dead. I know that I’m not talking to Lily and Remus and something could happen to any of us at any moment. And I know that You-Know-Who is going to be after me because of something stupid I did.”

Dorcas said all of this through the tears clogging her throat. When she finished, her cheeks were stained with tears and her shoulders shaking with sobs. She leaned forward and buried her face in Black’s chest. She didn’t know how long she cried, only that Black let her cling to his shoulders and rubbed her back until she pulled away.

“I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me after all the horrible things I’ve said to you and about you but thank you,” Dorcas said, whipping her eyes.

“We were all right until fourth-year, weren’t we?”

Dorcas nodded. “Yeah, we were.”

Black went into the kitchen to put on some tea (he promised not to put anything except sugar in it) and left Dorcas to compose herself. According to the clock above the mantle, it was eleven o’clock on a Thursday. Despite the late hour, she was wide-awake and had a lot to do. She needed to go to St. Mungo’s and make preparations for her dad’s funeral, and she needed to check on her Aunt Alice and her cousins, her Uncle Malcolm’s wife and daughters.

Before she did any of that, she had to go to Hogwarts and tell Darius. Black had told her about a complex exchange of Patronuses between himself, Moody, and Dumbledore. They arrived at the decision that Dorcas could come to Hogwarts and tell Darius rather than him being told by Professor McGonagall or a letter from the Ministry of Magic.

After a cup of tea and a quick shower, Dorcas wrote a letter to her Uncle Jon, her mum’s brother, explaining the situation and asking if she and Darius could come stay with them until after the funeral. Black volunteered his owl to deliver the note.

“Well, I guess I should get going. It’s not fair to make Darius wait so long. He deserves to know,” Dorcas said, more to convince herself than Black.

“You can use the fire,” Black said, holding out a flower pot full of Floo Powder. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Dorcas was surprised at the gesture. He had already done so much more than she had ever expected from him. She nodded, and tried, but failed, to smile.

“Thank you.” When he nodded in return, she took a pinch from the flower pot and threw it into the fire. “Professor Sprout’s office!”

She stepped into the green flames, tucking her arms in and squeezing her eyes shut. She hated traveling by Floo Powder, but it was the fastest and safest way into Hogwarts Castle. Next moment, she stepped out of the grate into the professor’s office. It hadn’t changed at all in the past year. It still smelled earthy and potted plants of every variety were perched along the high shelves under the windows.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here,” Black said, as he stepped out of the fire. “Sprout always sent James and me to McGonagall.”

“Professor Sprout is a softie, that’s why. She was afraid she’d crack under your charming smiles.”

The plain brown door between two bookshelves came crashing open and Professor Sprout skidded into the room with her dressing gown half-covering paisley pajamas and her hair even more frizzy than normal.

“Intruders! Intruders in the Herbology Department!” She stopped short when she saw Dorcas. “Miss Meadowes? Mr. Black? What in the world is going on?”

“Professor Sprout,” Dorcas began, but words failed her. She paused for a few moments to regain her composure. “I need to speak with Darius.”

Professor Sprout’s jovial smile slipped off her lips. “Oh. Oh, dear. I’ll … I’ll call Minerva.” She hurried over to the fire grate and threw in some Floo Powder. “Minerva, it’s Pomona. I need you to bring Darius Meadowes to my office.”

The green fire swirled to life and Professor McGonagall stepped out of the hearth a moment later. She was wearing a tartan dressing gown and looking very displeased.

“What in the world for, Pomona? Can’t it wait until morning?” Her gaze fell on Dorcas and Black. “Oh … oh, I see. I’ll go fetch him.”

Ten minutes later, Professor McGonagall returned with Darius in tow. He was still dressed in his Gryffindor robes and didn’t look the least bit tired.

“We’ll wait outside,” Professor Sprout said, guiding Black out of the office.

Darius’s politely quizzical expression faded when he saw his sister standing by the desk looking resolutely at the floor.


Chapter 8 - Third Eye Closing

October Twilight
Chapter Eight
“Third Eye Closing”

April 31st, 1975
5th Year

Dorcas stumbled through the wide corridors of Hogwarts with only the portraits and suits of armor to witness her strangled sobs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if to block out some terrible scene playing out in front of her. Her right hand hovered mere inches away from the wall, and each time the tips of her fingers bumped against the cold stone, she would cry out as if the stone had burned her.

The first rays of dawn were stretching over the horizon as the girl stumbled into the entrance hall. She groped around, her arms flailing wildly as she tried to orient herself without opening her eyes. Her foot caught on the heavy carpet that lay in the center of hall, and she tumbled to the ground. Her sobs grew louder as she thrashed about, trying to untangle her limbs from the bathrobe she had pulled over her baggy pajamas. She rolled around, moaning pitifully as if the carpet were physically hurting her.

She pushed herself up from the ground too quickly and stumbled again. As her knees crashed into the stone floor, she brought her hands up to her head and curled into a tight ball, her whole body racked with sobs. She rocked back and forth, whimpering unintelligible words through the tears that stained her face.

Dorcas tugged painfully at her long hair, trying everything within her power to numb the ache building behind her eyes. Blood pounded louder in her ears the longer she kept the unbidden images at bay. If she didn’t open her eyes, she wouldn’t see the hazy premonitions and wouldn’t have to dwell on them for days. Everything she touched triggered the blurry images, but she didn’t want to see them. She didn’t want to know who would trip on the last stair on the way to breakfast the following morning or who would attend the next Hogsmeade weekend with the boy she had a crush on. She had to get to Dumbledore’s office. He could make the pounding go away and could take the images out of her mind. That’s all she wanted, to get rid of these premonitions.

Three figures appeared at the end of the hallway and peered around the corner curiously. The young men were returning from an all-night rendezvous in Hogsmeade and were anxious to avoid bumping into anyone on their way back to Gryffindor Tower. One of their number had been left in the hospital wing to recover, making the flight back to their dormitory halfway completed. They could have avoided the entrance hall, knowing a great number of shortcuts through the castle, but the sobbing girl had drawn their attention.

The tallest of the three, a young man with cropped black hair and gray eyes, stepped around the corner first, surveying the crying girl at a distance. He recognized her at once, she being the object of his affection who had not yet seen the error of her ways in rejecting his advances.

“Meadowes?” Black asked.

The girl yelped and huddled into a tighter ball, her fingers tangling in her tousled hair as she pressed her chin to her chest. Black knelt down in front of her, reaching out slowly. Behind him, Peter and James edged closer, both looking on warily. Many strange things happened at Hogwarts, but crying girls were perhaps the most confusing of all.

As Black’s fingers grazed Dorcas’s arm, her eyes snapped open. The wide, tear-filled amber orbs penetrated his mind, holding him in place as the unfamiliar sensation caused fragmented memories to swim behind his eyes. Dorcas’s hand had closed around his wrist, and he couldn’t pull away from her vice-like grip.

His shrieking mother proclaimed that he was a disgrace … James had one antler sticking out of his messy black hair … He was waking up in the sterile white hospital wing …

Quite suddenly, Dorcas was not seeing Black’s memories at all. She retreated from his mind, trying desperately to not watch the premonitions caused by the accidental Legilimency that had shattered her Occlumency defenses, but the pain behind her eyes lessened the more she Saw, so she allowed it to continue for the physical relief it brought.

A strapping twenty-year-old man with Black’s eyes and smile lounged on a couch … a building in flames … malicious gleaming red eyes and a high, cold laugh … the brilliant green light of a Killing Curse … a pool of blood on white carpet ….

The images vanished and Dorcas was brought back into the present moment. Black was kneeling in front of her again, his gray eyes filled with fear. Dorcas heard herself screaming and tried to scoot away from the boy, but her slippers tangled in her bathrobe. Potter had moved past Black, and was reaching out for her, but she retreated further away, squeezing her eyes shut again.

“Do not touch her!”

Potter, Black, and Pettigrew whirled around. Headmaster Dumbledore was standing at the foot of the stairs in a purple dressing gown covered with silver moons and stars. As he strode across the entrance hall, Dorcas pushed herself shakily to her feet.

“I was coming … woke up … woke me up …,” she rambled.

“Come with me. Mr. Black, Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore glanced further down the hallway where Pettigrew was cowering against the wall, clutching to the crevices in the stone. “Mr. Pettigrew, you three will come with us, but wait outside my office until I come for you.”

Dumbledore grasped Dorcas firmly by the forearm and steered her through the corridors of the castle. He walked swiftly, almost dragging her along.

“… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named … Through my own eyes …”

With each broken phrase, her voice rose higher and grew shakier. Behind the Headmaster, Potter and Black exchanged worried glances. Dorcas was known for her rather emotional outbursts, especially when the Marauders were involved, but she always spoke intelligently. Cowering beside Professor Dumbledore and ranting incoherently, she looked like a lost child instead of the sophisticated and elegant young lady they had come to know.

Dumbledore swept the girl into his office without so much as a glance at the three Marauders. Once he had seated Dorcas in a chintz armchair, the Headmaster gently probed into her mind, bringing forth the premonition that had frightened her so much. Raising his wand tip to her temple, he extracted the silvery thread and deposited it into the stone basin waiting on his desk.

He had been expecting this for days. In their last Occlumency lesson, Dorcas had had a difficult time concentrating and complained of sudden headaches. He had told her she was experiencing warning signs that her mental defenses were weakening, but with O.W.L.s coming up, her young mind was too distracted to successfully block the Sight.

Dorcas descended the stairs fifteen minutes later with a promise from Dumbledore that she could come to his office during her afternoon break and discover the true nature of the premonition in the Pensieve. He had an idea of what the premonition was, and he had doubts about allowing her to see it again. She was too young to understand that her Sight would not always be accurate, and he didn’t want to frighten her. Still, it was her gift and sooner or later she would have to learn to bear the weight of it alone.

“Mr. Black, please escort Miss Meadowes to the hospital wing,” Dumbledore said, handing Black a magically sealed scroll. “Give this to Madam Pomfrey. Please return once Miss Meadowes is taken care of.”

Too mentally exhausted to argue, Dorcas trudged along beside Black as Dumbledore ushered Potter and Pettigrew into the Head’s Office. Neither spoke during the walk to the hospital wing. Once, Dorcas stumbled when her eyes drooped shut, and Black caught her below the elbow, but quickly removed his hand when she glanced in his direction.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to know they were coming because she was waiting at the doors with a cup full of potion. Dorcas drank the Sleeping Draught without protest, very much wanting the dreamless sleep that would follow. She slumped onto the nearest bed and drew the covers up around herself.

“Can I sit with her? Until she’s asleep?” she heard Black ask.

“Thought I had you pegged as inconsiderate and arrogant,” Dorcas mumbled.

“What was that, dear?” Madam Pomfrey questioned.

Dorcas blinked a few times to clear her head, trying to remember what she had said to Black only moments before. Madam Pomfrey was gone, but Black was perched on the edge of the chair next to her bed. He leaned closer when he saw that she was still awake.

“You’re a Legilimens, aren’t you? You saw my memories.”

Dorcas nodded slowly, or thought she did. The potion was making her limbs feel very heavy. “I wasn’t prying. It was an accident.”

“That’s really advanced magic,” Black remarked.

Dorcas only blinked a few times. She could barely keep her eyes open. Even through the fog pressing in on her mind, she noted the curious tone in his voice.

“I wasn’t supposed to learn it. Please don’t tell Dumbledore. He only wanted me to learn Occlumency, but I figured I might as well do the thing properly.”

Black chuckled softly. “Spoken like a true Marauder. If only you’d stop coddling every first year James hexes and telling Evans all his indiscretions, we could be good friends.”

“We will be, but not for a long, long time.”

Black cocked his head to one side. “How do you figure that?”

Dorcas pried her eyes open. She was rapidly losing the battle to stay awake. “Can’t tell you. You know too much all ready.”

Black leaned closer, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips. “You can tell me. Or I can tell Dumbledore about your extracurricular activities.”

“You think you’re smart, don’t you, Black?” Dorcas grinned. “Blackmail won’t work. I have too much on you.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Dorcas settled down into her pillows and sighed deeply. She wouldn’t be able to fight the Sleeping Draught much longer. She heard Madam Pomfrey’s shoes clicking on the hard floor. Any second the nurse was going to force more of the potion down Dorcas’s throat.

“I like dogs, I really do.” Even though her eyes were closed, she could tell that Black was watching her intently because he was sitting unnaturally still. “Especially big dogs, they’re so loyal and playful. Loyal enough to take on the Whomping Willow, I’d say.”

“How did you …”

Dorcas smiled impishly. “Like I said, you know too much as it is.”

*~*~*

March, 1979

It nearly midday when Dorcas finally led her younger brother and cousin out of their Uncle Jon’s flat above the family restaurant. Across the road, King’s Cross Station was bustling with activity. Dorcas sighed longingly, wishing back the days when the Hogwarts Express would whisk her away from cold reality every year. Darius and Angelica would be going back to Hogwarts where Dumbledore’s vigilance shielded them from the darkness consuming the wizarding world.

Not that the two students showed any signs of happiness. Darius had handled himself well considering that he was now an orphan. Angelica, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped crying in a week. Being a student at Hogwarts, she hadn’t been home when Death Eaters attacked Malcolm and Janice Meadowes’s house. Like Dorcas had suspected, Death Eaters had murdered her uncle and aunt to find out the location of Meadowes Manor, but they had gone even further than that. They had killed all three of Angelica’s younger brothers too.

“You’ll be safe with Dumbledore,” Dorcas said soothingly, wrapping her young cousin in an embrace.

The twelve-year-old girl looked up at her with tearful brown eyes and nodded slowly. She was already dressed in her Hogwarts uniform that proudly displayed the Hufflepuff crest. Dorcas had taken care of her the previous year, but it was up to Darius to do that now.

“You can talk to Professor Sprout whenever you need.”

“What happens this summer?” Angelica asked, voicing a concern Dorcas shared.

“I’m getting that sorted out with the Ministry.”

She glanced sidelong at Darius to warn him not to say anything else. He would be coming to stay with her, but Angelica’s fate wasn’t decided yet. The only other living member of the Meadowes family was Great Uncle Orion, a very old Squib, but Angelica’s mother’s Muggle family had offered to take her in.

Dorcas waved her wand and next moment the Knight Bus appeared with a loud bang. The conductor, a skinny wizard with bottle cap glasses called Ernie, helped Darius and Angelica with their bags. Dorcas hugged them both once more. She felt the need to say something motherly before sending them away for three more months.

“Don’t cause too much trouble. The prefects have enough to worry about with exams coming up. Good luck with Quidditch,” she added, looking at Darius.

She watched the Knight Bus disappear with a bang before Apparating back to her flat. Uncle Jon had been gracious with his home, especially since Angelica wasn’t related to him except through a complex chain of marriages, but it was time for Dorcas to set up her own home. She had been approached about rebuilding Meadowes Manor, but it didn’t seem like the right thing to do at the moment. She thought she might have it done when the war was over.

She had emptied her flat of her possessions in September, when she had moved back home to be with her father. The rooms echoed without furniture and it felt cold without pictures on the walls and rugs on the bare floor. The insurance check from Gringott’s had arrived earlier in the week, and the purchases she had made in Diagon Alley were scattered throughout the flat. Even magically unpacking would take her days.

Sighing, she waved her wand at the radio perched on the mantle. The speakers crackled to life and the radio began playing the songs Dorcas had charmed it to memorize. She thought Full Moon Blush was moody enough suit her current disposition, so she let her favorite band play.

An hour into her unpacking, there was a knock at the door. She left the utensils to unpack themselves, but when she stumbled past the boxes of books arranging themselves alphabetically on the shelves, she waved her wand and they fell lifelessly to the floor. It wouldn’t do to let a Muggle see her books floating in midair.

She was surprised to see Lily and Remus waiting in the hall. They had attended the funerals, but Dorcas had spent most of the services consoling her brother and cousin rather than talking to any of her friends, except for Sirius, who had sat beside her the whole day.

“Come in,” she said, stepping back to allow them room.

Inside the flat, they glanced awkwardly at one another. Dorcas hadn’t spoken to either of them in over two months, but she had never stopped thinking about them. She alternated between extreme anger and loneliness. She and Lily had been best friends since first-year, and Remus had joined their clique in third-year. In the past week, she had nearly forgotten that they didn’t trust her completely. She couldn’t stand the rift between them any longer. If only she had swallowed her pride with her dad, they might not have been parted on such bad terms.

“We just came to say--”

Lily’s words were cut off by Dorcas pulling her into a firm embrace. After a moment, the young women released one arm each and pulled Remus into the hug. When they parted, Dorcas and Lily were wiping tears from their eyes.

“Women,” Remus joked, but he was blinking rapidly and wouldn’t meet their gazes.

“How did you know I was here?” Dorcas asked finally.

“Sirius told us,” Lily replied, studying her best friend carefully. “From the way it sounds, you’ve been spending a lot of time with my fiancé’s sidekick.”

Dorcas only grunted in response. She didn’t trust herself to answer the probing statement. She was sure she’d sound embittered about why she had turned to Sirius for friendship.

“I could use a hand unpacking,” she said. “If your Charms work is still up to scratch after nine months out of school, that is.”

Lily answered by waving her wand at a box full of Healers robes which immediately zoomed out of the box and onto their hangers. They spent the next several hours unpacking, arranging furniture, and cleaning up, all while lounging around the sitting room and pointing their wands. Around dinner time, Remus left for guard duty in Hogsmeade.

“Magic is great,” Lily sighed. “We moved when I was eight, and I remember lugging boxes upstairs and spending days putting it all away.”

“Lily,” Dorcas said somberly, setting down her butterbeer.

She had been preoccupied all day about how to broach the delicate topic and what she would say when she finally mustered up the courage. The visions she’d had at Holly Falls around Christmas of Lily’s and Potter’s deaths haunted her thoughts every time she looked in Lily’s direction.

“Do you think that the people who have the ability to make a difference have the responsibility to do it?”

“Of course,” Lily answered at once. “That’s what the Order is about, isn’t it? We’re not really supposed to do it according to Ministry laws, but who else will?”

Dorcas took a deep breath. “Then I need to tell you something … about the future.”

“No,” Lily said, looking away from her friend. “You made a promise, Dorcas.”

“I made that promise when I was twelve, when I was still using the Sight to find out which boys had crushes on us! Things are different now, Lily.”

“Yes, they are, but I still don’t want to know.”

“You could change the future. If you’ll just let me tell you, you’ll know what to do differently.”

Lily shook her head. “I don’t want to live my life glancing over my shoulder, wondering if the decisions I made were the right ones to change the future. I can’t live that, Dorcas.”

“But, Lily, you don’t understand! This isn’t just about you. It’s about ….” Dorcas’s following words were cut off. Lily had placed a Silencing Charm on her.

“I said I don’t want to know.”

When Dorcas promised not to say anything else about the future, Lily removed the charm. But Dorcas had already made up her mind. She wasn’t going to drop the subject until someone listened to her, and she knew just the person to tell.

After classes the following day, Dorcas Apparated to Godric’s Hollow. She didn’t relish coming to Potter again, but seeing as how this matter involved him as well, she felt that she had no choice.

“Lily’s not here,” Potter said, when he opened the door.

“Hello, good to see you too. I’m not here for Lily.”

“Oh, well, Remus is up north, so …” Dorcas shook her head. “Um … Sirius?”

“No, Potter, I’m here at your house because I need to talk to you.”

Potter looked confused. This was the second time Dorcas had shown up on his doorstep claiming that they needed to talk.

They settled in the drawing room without any small talk or friendly smiles over tea. Dorcas wanted to get right to the point, and she thought Potter probably did also.

“Do you remember the day in fifth-year when you, Sirius, and Petti--Peter found me in the entrance hall?” she asked, shifting awkwardly in her seat.

Potter nodded. “Sure, Dumbledore came and got you and Sirius took you to the hospital wing. Sirius said you knew all about us, is that was this is about?” He looked irritated now.

For her part, Dorcas was trying very hard to remember some detail of that day she might have forgotten. She had no clue what Potter meant. Seeing the confusion on her face, Potter calmed down slightly.

“Anyway … Did Dumbledore tell you anything about it?”

Potter shook his head. “Not really. He just said that we were clever enough to have figured it out and made us swear to never tell anybody. He said if you wanted him to, he would erase our memories, but he never did.”

“No,” Dorcas replied, shaking her head. “I always thought if I was careless enough to let someone find out, then I had to deal with the consequences. Did you figure it out?”

Potter nodded, and Dorcas grimaced. Entirely too many people knew about her ability. She couldn’t help but be surprised, however. Potter and Black had never acted any different around her after that day, even when she had yelled at them and taken points, sometimes unfairly. They had never used it against her. Once again, she was struck by how wrong her assumptions about them had been.

“Well, then I’ll get to the point. I need to tell you something …”

Dorcas left Godric’s Hollow more frustrated than she had been went she arrived. She stomped down the street, not caring that the Muggles were pointing at her robes and whispering curiously to one another.

Damn them! Damn them both! Dorcas had made a promise to Lily, and she could respect that Lily wanted her to keep her end of the agreement. But Potter was just too bullheaded for his own good. His high-and-mighty attitude had grated on her last nerve. He thought himself invincible! If he would have listened to her, he would know how untrue that was. But, of course, perfect Potter didn’t need a Seer to know his own future.

She had tried to explain that she knew there was no such thing as destiny and that the Sight was only accurate if the person kept making the same kinds of choices between the vision and the actual event. But did Potter listen? Of course he didn’t.

Dorcas was still in the same predicament. Lily and Potter wouldn’t listen to her, and if they didn’t, they were going to die. The solution came to her suddenly and her whole disposition changed. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She would tell Sirius. He would make sure nothing happened to Lily and Potter. It was such an obvious solution that Dorcas actually laughed at her stupidity. If there was one person in the world who could make Potter see reason, it was Sirius.

The next three days passed painfully slowly. It seemed that every time Dorcas had a break, Sirius was in class. When she didn’t have missions for the Order, Sirius did. Thursday afternoon, Dorcas was studying her Transfiguration notes during lunch when Sirius showed up at St. Mungo’s.

“A few years ago I would have loved to have you sending me owls twice a day, but now I have to admit, it’s got me a little worried,” he said, taking the seat opposite her.

Dorcas indulged in a playful smile. Sirius flashed her the trademark smile that used to make her melt. If she were being honest, she found him extremely handsome, but it still annoyed her that he knew how gorgeous he was.

“I can’t tell you here. There are too many people.”

“Well, we could sneak into a broom cupboard,” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows roguishly. Seeing the scowl on Dorcas’s face, he added, “Or I could come by later tonight.”

“Whichever one won’t get you slapped, right?”

Sirius only grinned. “I have a class.”

Dorcas collected her books and left the cafeteria with him, also having a class. As they passed the Welcome Witch’s station, Marlene gave Dorcas a knowing look, and Dorcas glared in response.

“I thought you were friends with Marlene,” Sirius stated, joining the queue at the fires.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied, waving her hand nonchalantly. “She thinks there’s something going on between us, that’s all.”

Dorcas knew she must have read his expression incorrectly, but she thought Sirius looked hurt for a second. She said good-bye and headed for the stairs to the basement classrooms, wondering why she had imagined Sirius being hurt by her comment.

Later that night, she was flipping through Healers of the 19th Century when a brilliantly white sparrow-Patronus alighted on her hand. She pulled out her wand and tapped it once. A scroll fell into her hand where the Patronus had been perched.

You’re needed at Headquarters.

She tossed the book aside and jotted a quick note to Sirius explaining that she wouldn’t be at home. Her tawny owl, Isis, accepted the letter and flew out the window. Dorcas headed out the door quickly. When she was called to Holly Falls, it was usually because someone had been injured doing secret Order business and didn’t want to raise questions at St. Mungo’s.

Ten minutes later, she was being ushered up the stairs towards the hospital ward by Elphias Doge, the owner of the sparrow-Patronus. She knew him well, as he was a Security Wizard at St. Mungo’s and a resident of Hampshire Village. She expected to find someone grievously wounded in a hospital bed, but instead Doge guided her into the small office adjacent to the ward. A small vial of clear liquid with multicolored sparkles suspended in the solution was sitting on her desk.

“What’s this?” Dorcas wondered.

“That’s what I need you to find out. I was working my shift in the Magical Bugs ward tonight, and I found George Pinchot slipping this into the medicine cabinet beside Barty Crouch’s bed.”

“Mr. Pinchot the janitor?”

“One and the same. He said it had fallen out of the cabinet, but you know as well I do that each Healer has special wards on those drawers so that only they can open them. Well, I found him with Healer Hobson’s wand, and when I did a little checking, I found Hobson passed out cold in his office. Bones is checking him over, but it looked like a heavy Sleeping Jinx had knocked him out. And since Barty Crouch was the patient, well, it’s suspicious, isn’t it? Bones told me to have you identify this potion. If the Ministry gets hold of it, we’ll never find out what kind of Potion-maker has joined You-Know-Who.”

Dorcas had a good idea of who had brewed the Potion, and if she was correct, there was very little chance of her easily identifying it, much less finding an antidote. She poured half the vial into a cauldron and replaced the stopper.

“Take this to the Ministry straight away. We don’t want you to look suspicious by taking too long to get it there.”

When Doge left the room, Dorcas sent her Patronus to Lily. Next to Severus Snape, she had been the best Potion-maker in their year. Lily didn’t have the advanced medical classes Dorcas did, but she would be able to help nonetheless.

While she waited for Lily, Dorcas went to work on the Potion. She cast several Replenishing Charms until the whole cauldron was full and she was sure she’d have enough to work with. She went into the hospital ward and returned with an armload of ingredients for antidotes.

“What’s going on?” Lily asked. “Is everyone okay?”

“Thanks to Doge. Although, Barty Crouch was about to ingest some of this instead of his medicine.”

“What is it?” Lily asked, peering into the cauldron.

“I’m guessing it’s something unpleasant because Slughorn never taught us how to make it, and Healer Bones hasn’t covered its antidote in Medicinal Potions yet. I think it’s meant to look like Thalling Tonic, which is a mild sedative. It wouldn’t look at all out of place in the Magical Bug ward.”

Lily pulled Moste Potente Potions off the bookshelf and began flipping through it while Dorcas experimented with the potion in small crystal vials. They spent half the night trading suggestions and observing the potion. Nothing seemed to change its configuration in the slightest, not even dragon blood.

“I give up,” Lily said, leaning back in her chair. “There’s nothing in any of these books about it.”

“Which means whoever brewed it created the potion from the properties of its separate ingredients. But nothing will make it separate,” Dorcas yawned.

Lily sat up straight suddenly and smacked her forehead. “Of course! What was the one question every person missed on our Potion’s final in sixth-year?”

Dorcas raised one eyebrow. “Sorry to disappoint, Lily, but I missed a lot of questions on that final.”

“Well, I didn’t. I only missed one.”

She held her hand over a bowl of the potion, and using her wand, made a small cut on her palm. When the first drop of blood fell into the potion, it began to sizzle and swirl violently. A dazzling pattern of color lit up the potion and then it dried up, separating into many clumps of some slimy substance.

“What the hell is that?” Dorcas wondered aloud.

“There’s one person who will definitely know,” Lily said. “Pack it up. We’re going to see Dumbledore.”

Normally, Dorcas would have objected. She didn’t want to see the Headmaster, because she hadn’t yet come to terms with what she had done the night her father died. Dumbledore would be furious with her for intentionally using Legilimency, but even more furious because she had been so slow in repelling the Death Eater’s attack. He had found out damaging information and wouldn’t hesitate to tell He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Her curiosity about the potion won out. She had never encountered a Dark potion before, although she had read about some. This particular concoction involved blood magic of the Darkest kind. It was something Dorcas would learn about only towards the end of her Healer training.

After carefully packing the separated ingredients, the young women went downstairs to the sitting room where Order meetings were held. The fire was connected directly to the fire in the Head’s Office at Hogwarts, but to no other grate. Lily went first, and Dorcas gave her a few moments to inform Dumbledore of the situation before she arrived.

“… type of blood magic,” Lily was saying when Dorcas arrived.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said, motioning to Dorcas. “If I may …”

She laid the vials on his desk and stepped back. The Headmaster was silent for several moments. He prodded the slimy ingredients with his wand tip, turned them over, and whispered incantations. Finally, he laid down his wand.

“I have seen this potion before, and you are correct. It is Dark magic. It’s called the Draught of Multiple Awareness.”

Lily and Dorcas glanced at one another from the corners of their eyes, but didn’t ask the questions they were both pondering. Dumbledore chuckled slightly, but when he spoke again, he was utterly serious.

“It makes our otherwise controllable actions involuntary. This potions makes our conscious, our internal ramblings come alive. It fills our heads with little voices, so to speak. Any person who ingests even a single drop will be sent to a sanitarium for the rest of their lives.”

“Pinchot was putting it in Mr. Crouch’s medicine cabinet,” Dorcas said.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “It’s beginning, I suppose.”

“Beginning, sir?” Lily asked. “The war has been going on for years.”

“Yes, but the first phase is over. Voldemort is no longer satisfied with killing Muggle-borns and blood traitors. For quite some time, he’s been going after Aurors. He’s attacking the Ministry now. Millicent Bagnold will need to be warned.

“And now we know that Voldemort has a very talented witch or wizard working for him. This potion is beyond the abilities of most. I daresay Voldemort could brew it, but I don’t believe he worries himself over menial jobs such as stirring cauldrons these days.”

Dorcas took a deep breath. She knew what she was about to say would cause herself a lot of grief, but it would also give Dumbledore and the Order an advantage.

“Sir, I think I know who brewed the potion.”

Dumbledore looked up sharply. “And how would you know the identity of any Death Eater other than those already in Azkaban?”

His voice was cold, and Dorcas knew he had already guessed the answer. She took another calming breath before she told Dumbledore and Lily the whole story.


Chapter 9 - Secrets

October Twilight
Chapter Nine
“Secrets”

June 20th, 1975
5th Year

Dorcas collapsed onto the cool grass beside the Hogwarts lake. She flexed the fingers of her right hand slowly, wincing slightly each time she extended them fully. Lily and Annabel laughed at her melodramatic entrance.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be worth it in July when you find out you’ve aced the Defense O.W.L.,” Annabel grinned.

“Unlike some of us,” Lily groaned. “We must have studied counter-jinxes a thousand times, but I completely choked on the theory behind them.”

Annabel nodded sympathetically. “Well, I couldn’t even remember how to spell acromantula let alone their distinguishing traits.”

As the three fifth-years laughed heartily at Annabel’s expense while she recounted all the questions she knew she had messed up, several other girls from their year joined them by the water’s edge. Evelyn Dunham pulled off her socks and shoes and dipped her feet into the lake.

“That was awful. I had planned on taking Defense as a N.E.W.T. class, but I’m not sure I want to now.”

The other girls followed her example and soon their feet were splashing around in the shallow waters of the lake.

“We should meet up tonight to celebrate finishing our O.W.Ls,” Evelyn mentioned. “Dorcas could pull another miraculous disappearance into Hogsmeade and get us some butterbeer.”

Annabel and Evelyn had never gotten over the fact that model student Dorcas Meadowes knew a secret passage out of the castle. She refused to show them where it was, but she and Lily had snuck into the village a handful of times to get snacks and drinks for an all-night, inter-House sleepover in the prefect lounge.

“I suppose we could,” Dorcas grinned. “What do you say, Lily?”

“Of course!” the redhead exclaimed. “Merlin knows we’ve earned it after these past few weeks of nonstop studying.”

Evelyn pulled out a sheet of parchment, scribbled down all the candy she wanted from Honeydukes, and handed the parchment to Annabel.

“I suppose we’ll have to invite the Ravenclaws,” Dorcas sighed.

“And bribe the statue of Taurus the Centaur into leaving his post so the Slytherins can’t get in,” Annabel finished. “Can we invite the boys?”

The four girls erupted into giggles. “The boys,” as they were called, were the sixth- and seventh-year prefects from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and Elijah Diggory, Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. They were considered the most handsome, intelligent, and dateable boys at Hogwarts. Unless, as Lily and Dorcas said, a girl was a Marauder-groupie, in which case she had no taste anyway and her opinion didn’t count.

As they made their plans, they summoned several of their other friends over. The Ravenclaw prefects promised to spread the word at dinner and take care of the statue before heading back to the castle.

“Elijah!” Lily called, waving at the handsome Quidditch Captain.

Dorcas, Annabel, and Evelyn giggled behind their hands and made excited comments like “He’s so gorgeous!” and “Does my hair look all right?” while he approached.

Some distance behind Elijah, the Marauders were lounging under the tree that the girls usually claimed as their spot. Potter kept stealing furtive glances in their direction and messing up his hair. His trick of catching the Golden Snitch didn’t impress anyone but Pettigrew.

“Good thing we stayed up to study boggarts,” Elijah mentioned, sitting next to Dorcas.

Her three friends raised their eyebrows, but arranged their faces into neutral expressions when Elijah glanced in their direction.

“Yeah,” Dorcas said, hoping she wasn’t turning red. They hadn’t really studied boggarts for more than a few minutes and even that had been a pretense.

She expected her friends to goad her mercilessly or at least make suggestive comments, but Evelyn and Annabel were watching Lily nervously. Only when Dorcas looked over at her best friend did she realize why. Lily’s cheeks were splotched with pink and her eyes were narrowed dangerously.

Following Lily’s line of sight, she saw Potter and Black approaching Severus Snape. The Slytherin threw down his bag and drew his wand, but too slowly. Lily was marching towards the scene, her socks and shoes miraculously back on her feet in seconds.

Dorcas, Evelyn, and Annabel dove for their own socks and shoes. Evelyn and Annabel, not being prefects, usually stood back while Dorcas and Lily did their jobs and then listened patiently while they moaned and complained about Potter and Black afterwards. Lily didn’t need any support when she laid into the boys, but Dorcas was anxious just to hear her yell. It was always amusing to watch, just as Lily thought watching Dorcas wail at the Marauders was hilarious.

It took the girls an extraordinary amount of time to sort out their shoes and get up the hill to watch the scene that was quickly drawing a crowd. Lily’s angry voice carried down to the water’s edge, but Dorcas couldn’t quite make out Potter’s replies.

When she, Evelyn, and Annabel finally arrived at the scene, they were shocked to see Snape hanging upside down with his robes falling over his head. Evelyn and Annabel turned away and covered their mouths with their hands, trying very hard not to laugh. Dorcas fought back her own smile before pushing through the crowd.

“Let me pass! I’m a prefect!” she hissed at a clump of Ravenclaws.

As they parted, she saw Lily’s retreating back disappear into the crowd. Not thirty seconds later, Snape was hanging upside down again. Annabel nodded encouragingly while Evelyn went after Lily.

“I thought Lily made herself clear, Potter,” Dorcas said, emerging from the crowd.

Several people booed and shouted for Potter to take off Snape’s pants, as he had just threatened to do. Potter looked at Dorcas incredulously while Black cursed under his breath.

“Not you too, Meadowes! He’s not worth it.”

“Put him down!” Dorcas demanded.

“Look what he did!” Potter shouted, pointing at the gash on his cheek and his blood-stained robes. “Didn’t you hear what he called Evans?”

Dorcas hadn’t heard Snape say anything, but she had a good idea of what he might have said. Of course, Potter could be making it up, she reasoned. Then again, Lily wouldn’t have walked away if Snape hadn’t done something to offend her.

“So what is this? Revenge? For you and for Lily? How noble, but I think you’ve proven your point. You’re the better wizard, we get it. He’s been humiliated enough for one day.”

Snape cursed violently at her, and Dorcas knew that if Potter and Black didn’t hex her for interfering, Snape most certainly would.

“Just stand back, Meadowes,” Black said casually. “We’re doing Evans a favor.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes, getting fed up with their arrogance. She preformed the counter-curse to the spell and Snape fell to the ground.

“Saved twice in one day,” Black laughed. “You’re a lucky git, Snape.”

“I don’t need help from mudbloods and blood traitors!” Snape roared, pointing his wand at Dorcas.

Before she could even raise her own wand, Snape had been knocked off his feet and flung into the crowd. She turned sharply to find Black glaring furiously at Snape.

“I said leave him alone!” Dorcas screamed, rounding on him.

“He was going to hex you, Meadowes!”

“I can take care of myself! I don’t want you hexing people for me. I, unlike you, can manage situations civilly.”

“Oh, yeah? By screaming?” Black countered, smirking cockily. Potter laughed raucously and Pettigrew was practically giggling in delight.

Dorcas was furious, more at herself for walking into the trap than at Black for pointing it out. She sputtered for a few seconds, searching for any possible comeback, but came up totally blank which only made her madder.

“Well, since I’m not civil,” she roared.

She flicked her wand sharply upward and a tongue of bright yellow flame shot out the end. Black jumped backwards, clutching his chest where the jinx had hit him. Dorcas raised her wand to do it again, but before she make the motion, pain like nothing she had ever felt gripped her left leg. She looked down and saw a yellow shape like a snake winding around her ankle. For a moment, she thought Black had used the jinx on her in retaliation, but then she saw Snape standing a few feet away, an ugly grin on his face.

She greatly resented him using the jinx against her, as it was one of her specialties, and found it entirely uncreative that he used it on her right after she had used it on Black. She had never put as much power into her jinxes either. Her entire leg was cramping up and she could barely stand, whereas Black had completely recovered from the momentary pain her jinx had caused.

“Still don’t want me to hex him, Meadowes?” Black asked.

Dorcas shifted her weight, determined to remain standing and not show any weakness although the jinx wrapped around her leg was excruciating. She looked directly into Snape’s black eyes as she answered.

“No.”

*~*~*

April 11th, 1979

The sun was barely peaking over the horizon when Dorcas left her flat. The knapsack slung over her shoulder was devoid of textbooks for the first time in months and stuffed instead with an umbrella, camera, and blanket. She yawned widely as she trudged down the steps and emerged onto the London street.

After glancing around to check for watching Muggles, she turned sharply and Apparated to the apartment complex only four blocks away. She could have walked, but it was really too early for that. Her vision was still blurry from sleep, and she didn’t trust herself not to walk into oncoming traffic.

To her amazement, the lights in Sirius’s flat were on. At Hogwarts, he had always stumbled in for breakfast at the last moment. She felt that she should have known better. It was a Quidditch match that they were waking up early to attend.

He had been hounding her for a month, constantly reminding her of her promise to go. She knew he meant only the best. It had been a little over six weeks since her father’s funeral, and she had immersed herself in her studies and Order work from that day. Sirius sent her long, rambling letters every night telling her how unhealthy it was for her to do nothing but work. Mostly, the letters made her smile. He could never stay on topic, and it was his tangents that gave her so much amusement. Owing to her promise, she had agreed to give up one Saturday of study groups to attend the Quidditch march.

Dorcas mounted the stairs slowly, yawning on almost every other step. When she finally reached Sirius’s flat, her eyes were watering again. She knocked half-heartedly.

“Morning,” Sirius said cheerily, a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

She stumbled inside and pushed the door shut. The place had only grown filthier since her last visit, and she was itching to pick up the half-empty bottles and wash the dishes crusted with dried food. The origin of the masses of black fur was driving her mad. She searched for any sign of a pet: a bowl of food, a leash, a cage, but found nothing.

“Where does all of this fur come from?” she questioned, when Sirius appeared in the sitting room again.

He hesitated. “Um … don’t you already know the answer?”

“Well … I assumed it was a dog, but …” Dorcas trailed off at the perplexed look on Sirius’s face.

“Yeah, it is dog hair,” he replied, giving her a meaningful look.

She smiled widely, and Sirius seemed to relax at the gesture. “What breed is he? Or is she a girl?”

Sirius looked completely baffled, as if Dorcas shouldn’t have been asking these ridiculous questions. “He’s a … pure-blood.”

Dorcas laughed. “A pure-blood what?”

“He’s a dog.”

“Okay,” Dorcas said slowly. She wasn’t sure why Sirius was being so reluctant to talk about his dog. “Well, where is he?”

Quite suddenly, Sirius didn’t look confused at all. “You don’t remember talking about Padfoot, do you? You were too far gone from Madam Pomfrey’s Sleeping Draught.”

“Apparently so. I wonder why I asked about your dog, though.”

“Because you adore mangy dogs.”

“How did you know that?” Dorcas asked, beaming at the thought of a big, drooling, hairy dog to play fetch with.

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. “I can always tell. Should we get going?”

Dorcas followed Sirius down the back steps and into the car park full of Muggle vehicles. She glanced around curiously, wondering why he was leading her here instead of the street where they usually Apparated. He approached a large motorbike, a kind of Muggle vehicle that Dorcas had seen only on rare occasions.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Taking you to the opening Quidditch match of the season,” Sirius grinned, throwing one leg over the bike. “Hop on.”

Dorcas’s eyes flicked skeptically to the second seat. She regarded Sirius with one eyebrow cocked, just to make sure he knew how insane she thought he was.

“I’m not getting on that thing.”

“Come on. It’s perfectly safe. I ride it all the time.”

“Famous last words!”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? You’ll trust me enough to share guard duty, trail possible Death Eaters, and you’ll take me into your confidences when you’re at your most vulnerable, but you won’t trust my word that the motorbike is safe.”

Dorcas quelled slightly under this logic. She still didn’t like the idea of riding on the Muggle contraption, but it was clear that Sirius wasn’t getting off the bike.

“Fine. But if I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius laughed. He glanced over his shoulder at Dorcas, who was sitting placidly behind him. “You’ll need to hold on.”

“To what?”

“My waist.”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I’m liking this thing less and less.”

She stubbornly crossed her arms. With a shrug, Sirius flicked his wand and the motorbike roared to life. Dorcas let out a startled scream, and next moment, her arms were latched tightly around Sirius’s waist.

Dorcas wasn’t sure if she liked the motorbike or not. They thundered through the streets of London, drawing admiring looks from the younger Muggles and forbidding glares from stuffy-looking businessmen on their way work. She didn’t like the constant vibrations, but the feel of the morning wind against her face was exhilarating. When they were out of London and away from Muggle homes, Sirius pressed a button and the motorbike rose into the air.

Dorcas had never much liked flying, but sitting on the bike was more comfortable than even the highest quality broomstick. Soaring above the clouds, the morning sun was bright and warm on her face. She had never enjoyed the wind whipping through her hair as much as she did during the flight to the Quidditch pitch in Wales.

“Isn’t it illegal to charm Muggle objects?” Dorcas questioned, climbing off the motorbike and eyeing the Aurors standing guard at the entrance to the Quidditch arena.

Sirius shrugged. “Probably. At least, I think I heard something about a new law.”

Dorcas stared for a moment, but then remembered who she was with. Sirius would probably own the motorbike for the simple fact that it was illegal.

While Sirius handed their tickets to the Aurors, Dorcas flipped her wand casually and all the tangles in her hair smoothed themselves out. She was too busy surveying the scene to notice Sirius’s smirk.

The dark green, navy, and gold stadium had been erected on a marsh somewhere in northern Wales, but Dorcas couldn’t say for sure where Sirius had brought her. Witches and wizards of all ages were milling around the area, but there were more Aurors, safety wizards, and security trolls than spectators. A long row of kiosks had been set up a few yards away from the stadium wall. Vendors were selling everything from programs to Quidditch robes to hats that shouted the players’ names.

“I can’t believe they’re still playing Quidditch,” Dorcas remarked.

“Everyone needs some way to relax. Even Muggles still play their sports during wars.”

Dorcas hadn’t known that about Muggles, having never taken Muggles Studies. Sirius purchased two navy blue and gold rosettes and forced one onto Dorcas. She eyed the thing skeptically, not because she had an aversion to the rosette itself, but because it seemed to be mispronouncing “McGrath.”

“Might as well relax. We’ve got all day.”

Dorcas stopped short, frowning deeply at Sirius. “What do you mean, ‘we’ve got all day’?”

“Quidditch games are only played at night so the Muggles don’t see.” He chose a spot under a budding pear tree and dug the blanket out of Dorcas’s rucksack. “They’ll start the game at sundown.”

“So why exactly did I wake up with the sun?” she asked crossly.

“Well we can’t all arrive at the same time.”

Dorcas bit her tongue at his condescending tone. She was soon bored out of her mind as Sirius began explaining not only the game of Quidditch again, but launched into an hour-long lecture on the history of Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies. She didn’t hear anything that interested her until the very end of Sirius’s lesson.

“So … the Harpies are all witches?”

“Yup,” Sirius answered, popping a handful of Bertie Bott’s Beans into his mouth and immediately spitting out the half-chewed lump on the ground. He gagged and coughed for a few moments, and when he had recovered from the foul flavor, found that Dorcas had summoned a vendor and swapped her navy Puddlemere rosette for a green and gold Holyhead pendent.

“What?” she asked innocently, trying not to grin.

Sirius only shook his head. “I should have known you’d be a Harpies fan.”

The hours between their arrival and sunset passed much quicker than Dorcas had imagined they would. If she had been told in October that she would spend a whole day with Sirius doing nothing but talking, she would have laughed raucously. Now that she had done just that, she felt a niggling sense of guilt in the pit of her stomach. As the sky changed from blue to orange, she made up her mind to do what she had been putting off for almost a month and a half.

“Sirius.”

“Hmm?” he asked, through a mouthful of carefully sorted Bertie Bott’s Beans.

Dorcas looked down at her intertwined fingers. She had rehearsed this conversation a hundred times in the past few weeks, but no starting point seemed adequate. Sirius glanced in her direction, and seeing the serious expression on her face, he swallowed the candy thickly and set the box aside.

“What’s up, Dorcas?”

She looked up slowly, still not sure where to begin, but the words came without thoughts, like they had been lurking in the back of her mind all day.

“Muffliato! … You were right. All those years at school, I harassed you and Potter for nothing.”

This confused Sirius, but Dorcas continued before he could ask the question on his lips. She knew she had to keep going or she might lose her nerve.

“Potter told me that you know about my … abilities. That night, when my dad was murdered and I chased the Death Eater, I used Legilimency. I found out who killed my dad.”

She paused for a moment, blinking back the tears. Her eyes met his, and she knew she was doing the right thing by telling him. She had seen the same genuine concern his eyes before, when she’d told him and Potter about Lily’s injury. She couldn’t believe he could care so much about anything she said after all the times she’d yelled and criticized him.

“It was Snape. Snape killed my dad.”

Sirius went absolutely still. He seemed to be searching for the proper words, but kept coming up blank. His jaw was set and a new fire burned his soulful eyes. Dorcas looked at the ground, brushing away the tears.

“I defended him. I yelled at you and Potter. I insulted you. I did everything I could to make you leave him alone, and not a year later he repays me by killing my father.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Sirius said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, still not looking at him. “I know. I treated him exactly how I treated everyone else. Whatever choices he made, I can’t be held responsible for them. But I am responsible for how I reacted to you and Potter.” She looked at Sirius again with dry eyes. “You told me so many times that he was into the Dark Arts, but I just wouldn’t listen, because I saw you hexing him, and so whatever he did, I thought was in self-defense. That’s a very black-and-white view of the world. It’s immature and not at all what I expect of myself.”

“Look, Dorcas, don’t--”

“You were right about Snape, who else were you right about? Who else did I defend that I shouldn’t have?”

Sirius’s jaw moved silently, trying to find someway to console her. She seemed completely beyond soothing, and he hadn’t expected their conversation to take this turn.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry.”

Sirius shifted, slightly uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about it. It’s history, right?” Dorcas nodded, smiling now. “So … we’re friends?”

Dorcas actually laughed. “Merlin save us, but yeah, we’re friends.”

“You told me we would be.”

“I did?” she asked, trying to remember ever being delirious enough to make that comment to the Sirius Black she had known at Hogwarts.

“Yeah, in fifth-year. You had just taken one of Madam Pomfrey’s potions. You told me why my nickname is Padfoot and that we’d be friends one day in the future.”

“Wait, wait, wait! You mean, I once knew the secret to the Marauder’s mysterious nicknames?” Sirius nodded, grinning imperiously. “That’s why I should know about the animal hair all over your flat?”

He only shrugged. “No hints. When I told James, he almost throttled me for letting you find out. If it weren’t for Remus’s excellent Stunner, I think I’d have permanent brain damage from lack of oxygen.”

Dorcas smiled widely. “You know, a few months ago, I could have had a field day with that comment.”

Sirius’s retort was drowned out by the bell signaling the beginning of the Quidditch match. Sirius and Dorcas gathered up their belongings, souvenirs, and snacks and headed towards the entrance designated on their tickets. They passed by a number of Aurors and security wizards with Secrecy Detectors and finally took their seats just five rows down from the top box. The stands were less than half-filled, but Dorcas thought there was a huge crowd for such dark times.

The stadium was lit with giant magical torches that spread more light than a normal fire would have done. Vendors Apparated up and down the aisles peddling their wares for any last minute customers. A long row of bare-chested wizards with one letter of ‘Puddlemere United’ painted of each of their torsos filled the row just in front of Dorcas and Sirius. When the referee marched onto the field, the stands erupted with applause. Dorcas gaze incredulously at Sirius, who was clapping and cheering as loudly as the fanatical group in front of them.

Dorcas didn’t understand much of the ceremony before the game started. Both teams flew a few laps around pitch. She cheered for the Harpies, only to attract glares from the wizards in the next row, so she decided to cheer for neither side.

The teams threw around the red ball (she couldn’t remember what it was called) and hit the Bludgers so quickly that they were only blurs. She couldn’t make out the different players because their navy blue and dark green robes looked so similar in the torchlight. She only cheered when a witch scored a goal, but she was never certain if the witch played for Puddlemere or Holyhead.

“Did you see that?” Sirius shouted, looking ecstatic. “The Dopplebeater Defense! Carver and I did that in the last game against Slytherin. We almost took Popper’s head off!”

Dorcas didn’t think that was anything to celebrate, so she said nothing. Sirius tried explaining the game again, but after just a few minutes, he got caught up in the fanatic cheering and lost track of the conversation. Dorcas didn’t really mind. She was having more fun laughing at the half-naked wizards in front of her and listening to Sirius curse at the referee for ten minutes straight.

Suddenly, the spectators erupted noisily, some cheering and some booing. Sirius and the row of wizard in front of him were whooping joyfully. Deciding that that meant something good had happened for Puddlemere, Dorcas booed loudly.

“Better luck next time, Dorcas,” Sirius laughed. “Maybe the Harpies will get a better Seeker before their next match. The Snitch was right in front of her face!”

Dorcas followed Sirius back to his motorbike, listening indifferently to him criticize Holyhead and praise Puddlemere. She understood as little about Quidditch after watching a professional match as she had had during Sirius’s many lectures about the sport.

“It was worth it, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah it was,” Dorcas said, smiling.

Sirius seemed to realize that she wasn’t referring to the game, because a sincere smile replaced his elated enthusiasm.

~*~

Author’s Note: Thank you to Ieyre, who posted this review: So it was Snape, right? Well, Sirius said he wasn't sure that Snape was a Death Eater in the 4th book, so unless he was lying then, that doesn't quite work continuity-wise.

With so much else to think about, I missed this line. Of course, Ieyre is correct. In canon, Sirius does not know for sure that Snape is a Death Eater, but in “October Twilight” he does. This really isn’t crucial to the rest of the story, however. Dorcas and Sirius never discuss Snape again. It was a mistake on my part. I promise I’m not venturing into some AU plot.

Cheers,
Vana


Chapter 10 - The Torch

October Twilight
Chapter Ten
“The Torch”

October 23rd, 1976
6th Year

The ringing alarm clock snapped Dorcas from a content slumber. She blinked blearily and groped blindly for the shrilly ringing Muggle contraption. The yellow velvet hangings around her bed shut out all light and the Imperturbable Charm cast on them blocked out the sounds of her still sleeping dorm mates.

She finally managed to find the alarm clock in the mass of bedclothes. Yawning widely, she threw back the curtains and squinted at the bed to her left. Annabel was snoring lightly, unaffected by the alarm clock. The sun had not yet peaked over the horizon, and the sky was just changing from black to blue.

The shock she received from the cold cellar room made her want to crawl back into her toasty, comfortable bed, but she resolutely waved her wand at the duvet and staggered towards her trunk as the bed made itself. She nearly lost her balance pulling on her trousers and tried to stick her head through the armhole of her vest three different times. Finally, she pulled on her yellow-lined robe bearing the Hufflepuff crest and prefect badge. Deciding that she could not possibly do her tie right when she was so sleepy, she stuffed it in her pocket.

After Dorcas grabbed a small satchel from its place in her trunk, she crept out of the dormitory and eased the door shut. She emerged into the hallway and immediately took the stairs up to the hallway connecting the girls’ dormitories with the common room.

The black and yellow room was deserted except for a single house-elf stoking the fire. He bowed low to Dorcas as she passed, quite used to the girl finding him in the middle of his duties. He had nearly died of fright and shame the first time they’d seen one another, but Dorcas had kindly explained that she had to get up this early for her friend.

“Miss is kind and loyal and ….” The house-elf had squeaked and bowed for so long that Dorcas was almost late. Since that day in third-year, she and the house-elf had been on amiable terms.

Dorcas pushed aside the tapestry hanging behind the bust of Oliver the Obstinate and slipped into the hallway. The podium the bust sat on slid back into place as did the tapestry without Oliver ever rousing from his slumber. She often wished Hufflepuff had a different guardian for their dormitory. When he was awake, Oliver was a right pain, and when he slept, he refused to wake for anyone but Professor Sprout.

By the time Dorcas had mounted the stairs and crossed the entrance hall, the sky was rosy pink, and the only stars still visible were dull and in the far western sky. Rather than wrestling with the heavy magic that locked the front doors during the night, she took a detour up the marble staircase, down the Defense corridor, and slipped into a niche guarded by two suits of armor. They turned their heads to observe her, creaking and clanging as they did so.

With a tap of her wand on the right stones, the floor turned into a trapdoor and Dorcas descended down the staircase with her wand lit. At the end of the short tunnel, she whispered the password and emerged onto the grounds through the hole in the castle wall. She had no idea how Remus had found the passageway out of the castle, which stones to tap, and the proper password, but it made her task a lot easier.

She hesitated by the castle wall and drew her cloak tighter around herself. Her breath misted in the cold morning air and the frozen grass crunched beneath her shoes. Dorcas marched across the grounds towards the large, ominously swaying tree. She pointed her wand at the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow.

“Remanius!”

An invisible force pushed the knot and the branches froze. Dorcas slipped into the tunnel and hurried towards its exit in Hogsmeade. It was warmer inside the tunnel, but that didn’t give her any reason to appreciate it. She hated bugs and slimy things, and the tunnel was full of both. When she finally arrived at the exit, she threw open the trapdoor into the Shrieking Shack and shook out her hair and cloak, just in case any creeping thing had attached itself to her. Just the thought gave her the chills.

She forgot her disgust with the tunnel a moment later. There were voices coming from the room overhead where Remus usually lay down to rest for the day. Her heart stopped beating and her breath caught in her chest for a single moment, and then both returned in full force, pumping adrenaline through her system. She pulled out her wand and began shuffling towards the stairs.

She didn’t know how anyone could have gotten into the Shrieking Shack unless they were told about the tunnel. Dumbledore had placed all kinds of enchantments on the building to keep Remus … and everyone else … safe. A shudder passed down her spine when she thought about what would happen to any unsuspecting person who stumbled into the place at the full moon. And even worse than that, she thought, what they could do to Remus if they found him the morning after in his weakened condition.

“… Get Madam Pomfrey.”

“Are you insane? She’ll tell McGonagall …”

Dorcas rolled her eyes and dropped her wand arm. Irritated, she opened the door leading to the bedroom. Black, Potter, and Pettigrew spun around, all three with wide eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she stated flatly.

“Oh, and you are?” Black replied acidly.

“Actually, I have permission directly from Dumbledore,” Dorcas answered haughtily.

The three boys exchanged bewildered glances as Dorcas moved across the room and settled herself next to Remus.

“How are you feeling?”

The werewolf grunted and motioned vaguely towards his head. Dorcas pulled out four vials of potions and handed them to Remus. She then healed several cuts on his arms and shoulders and loosely bandaged them.

“This isn’t as bad as it usually is,” she commented. “Anything new you should tell me about?”

Again, Remus only grunted. Dorcas’s eyes shifted suspiciously towards the other three Marauders, but she didn’t comment on their presence. They hadn’t ever come to visit Remus after the full moon before, and as curious as she was, she knew she couldn’t get the truth out of them unless she used Legilimency. When Dumbledore had found out that she’d taught herself Legilimency, he’d lost his temper and made her swear to never use it again on her fellow students. Seeing Dumbledore angry had frightened her so badly that she’d promised instantly and never considered reneging.

“All right then. Take this.” She passed him a bubble gum pink potion. “You should sleep until about four o’clock. I’ll bring you your homework after dinner, and Professor Vector hinted that we’re having a quiz next week, so we can study Arithmancy if you need to.”

“Thanks,” Remus whispered, settling into the pillows.

Dorcas shuffled the young men out of the room and shut the door behind her. They moved to the stairs, casting her curious glances as they descended the steps. Potter and Pettigrew slipped into the tunnel first, and like a real gentleman, Black moved in front of Dorcas.

“What happened to your leg?” she asked.

Black glanced down instinctively, completely unaware of the congealed blood staining his trousers. For a moment, he looked startled, but tried to shrug it off.

“Oh, that. Nothing ….”

Dorcas grabbed his upper arm and held him back from entering the tunnel. “How long have you been here?”

“We got here just before you did,” he replied.

Dorcas wondered why he refused to meet her gaze. It was almost as if he knew she would be able to tell if he was lying. She steered him into the sitting room adjacent to the hallway and pushed him onto the dusty old sofa.

“Was that before or after Remus was human again?” she demanded, searching through her knapsack.

“He’s always human!”

Dorcas looked up sharply. “No, he’s not.” Black seemed to lose some of his superiority under her harsh glare. “He’s my friend, and I’ll love him regardless, but he doesn’t turn into a cuddly puppy every full moon. For whatever reason you’re here, you need to realize that too.”

Dorcas severed the bloody material of Black’s trousers and revealed a long, wide gash matted with black fur. She almost asked about the fur, but decided it wasn’t as important as healing the cut. She traced it with her wand twice.

“You’ll need to take salt water mixed with dittany twice a day for a week to prevent scarring and infection. It’s a two-one-two ratio. Madam Pomfrey could make it for you, but I don’t think you’ll want to explain this to her.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Dorcas looked up, surprised by the question. Black was gazing at her incredulously, pinning her with his soulful gray eyes.

“I mean, just yesterday, you took twenty-five points because I sat in your seat in Defense.”

Dorcas’s jaw worked silently. She couldn’t explain to Black why she had mended his leg and was telling him how to tend it himself. Well, she could have, but it would have revealed things about herself that she rather Black wasn’t privy to. Knowing him, he would exploit her every weakness to his greatest advantage.

“Because, Black, as much as I think having a peg leg would deflate your ego to a reasonable size, I don’t want it on my conscience that your leg had to be amputated when I could have done something about it.”

Despite the cold scowl and determination on her face, Black wasn’t able to suppress the cocky smile pulling at one corner of his mouth.

“A peg leg, huh?”

Dorcas tried her hardest not to crack a smile, but the absurdity of what she’d said was too humorous for her to resist the natural smile. Black chuckled softly as he rose from the sofa.

“Hey, Meadowes … sit with me at the Halloween Feast.”

Dorcas paused on her way to the door. “One joke doesn’t change anything, Black. I can’t go with you.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

Dorcas breathed in deeply, debating how she should answer. She could respond harshly and end the discussion immediately, but something held her back. She only snapped at him when his ego got out of control, and he was behaving acceptably at the moment.

“I’m already going with somebody else.”

Dorcas was sure she’d imagined it, but she thought Black looked heartened by her answer. She chided herself silently. People like Black who thought the whole world revolved around themselves didn’t look ‘heartened.’

“Then you can come to Hogsmeade with me next Saturday.”

Dorcas physically bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at him. Any mention of Hogsmeade from Black’s mouth brought back traumatizing memories.

“No, I can’t. I’m going with Elijah, my boyfriend.”

Black swallowed thickly. “Diggory’s your boyfriend? I … didn’t realize that. I wouldn’t have asked.”

He moved past her and out the door. Dorcas followed behind, impressed with his answer. She hadn’t thought the word “boyfriend” would have quelled his intentions so quickly. She made a note not to take quite so many points from him. At least he wasn’t a scoundrel with other people’s girlfriends.

“It’s all right. It’s not like we pay that much attention to each other’s private lives.”

Black didn’t respond. He ducked into the tunnel, leaving Dorcas to wonder if she hadn’t said something wrong.

*~*~*

April, 1979

Heavy mist hung in the late spring air, bringing with it an unnatural chill and a feeling of deepest dread. Dorcas wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and began walking more quickly towards the pinpoints of light in the distance. Godric’s Hollow looked eerie with the orange light from the streetlamps casting distorted shadows through the dementors’ mist.

Never had she imagined the day when she would be anxious to set foot inside James Potter’s home. After seven hours of lectures, two exams, and a twelve hour shift with Dedalus Diggle, Dorcas was sure that even a night spent with Potter couldn’t be as painful as her day had been.

The mist was so thick around the Potter’s house that she almost walked into the picket fence only to stumble sideways into Sirius’s motorbike. He hadn’t told her he would be at Potter’s house, but she should have known he would be. Lily had demanded she take a night off from studying and help pick out bridesmaid’s dresses and flower arrangements. It made sense that Potter would spare himself the agony and pretend to be making wedding plans with his best man.

Potter opened the door a few moments after she knocked for the second time. A shiver passed down his spine as he surveyed the dreary atmosphere outside.

“Did you hear about Marlene?” Potter asked quietly. Dorcas nodded solemnly. “She was a friend of yours, wasn’t she?”

“Kind of. I mean, we ate lunch together, but we weren’t that close …”

Dorcas trailed off, not wanting to think about Marlene or any of the McKinnon family for that matter. She had been completing her Practical Studies class in the closed ward of the Creature Induced Injuries department when the McKinnons had been brought in. Goosebumps sprung up on her arms just thinking about their soulless eyes and blank expressions. The dementors’ mist had been spreading since that first attack, and it wasn’t showing any signs of stopping.

In the drawing room, Pettigrew was recovering from a lost game of Exploding Snap, and Sirius was unwrapping a new deck of cards. Lily was perched on the couch, flipping through a three inch thick bridal magazine, and Remus, trying to stifle a yawn, was nodding vacantly. When he saw Dorcas he jumped up from his place and practically shoved her onto the couch, looking very relieved.

“Finally,” Lily huffed.

Dorcas opened her mouth to retort, but Remus and Sirius both shook their heads grimly. To her immense surprise, Potter sat on the other side of Lily and peered over her shoulder at the magazine. The models were twirling and spinning in vibrantly colored dress robes, flexing their fingers to show sparkling jewelry, and bees buzzed around floral arrangements with long-lasting, scratch-and-smell spells.

“I like that one,” Dorcas said, pointing to a pale yellow dress robe.

“The colors are purple and silver, Dorcas!” Lily cried, tears brimming in her eyes. “Why doesn’t anyone pay attention to what I say?”

Remus’s and Sirius’s shoulders slumped, and Pettigrew sank into his chair. Dorcas glanced around the room, wondering what had happened to put Lily in such a foul mood. It wasn’t like her to snap and get overemotional.

“Okay, purple is nice.”

“Yeah, I love purple,” Potter agreed, a grin plastered on his lips.

Sirius had a sudden coughing fit that subsided the moment Lily narrowed her eyes. This in turn caused Remus and Pettigrew to choke on stifled laughter.

Lily, Dorcas, and Potter spent the next hour looking at dress robes. Dorcas thought she saw Potter’s head nodding a few times, but whenever Lily asked for his opinion he gave a predictable, noncommittal answer. Dorcas thought that was a clever idea and quickly adopted it, as her every honest comment only seemed to make Lily more irritable. She even went so far as to agree to wear a hideous purple robe with three layers of frilly silver lace and a matching hat.

“Okay, well that’s settled,” Lily said, smiling widely.

Potter sighed softly and made to join his friends playing Exploding Snap on the floor when Lily pulled out another magazine thicker than the last one.

“Now we just have to find dress robes for the groomsmen. I don’t think we need you for this, James.”

None of the young men looked thrilled that Lily and Dorcas were going to decide on their robes without their consultation. Potter reluctantly joined his friends on the floor, very put out that he had been forced to endure an hour of bridal magazines only to be sent away when it was time to pick out his own clothes.

Lily skipped past the robes that Dorcas thought were the most acceptable and flipped straight to a horrible cut that anyone who had grown up in the wizarding world knew had gone out of style a century ago. She tried very hard not to laugh as Sirius and Potter sent her imploring looks.

“That’s … an interesting style,” Dorcas commented, biting her lower lip. “I especially like the slit up the left leg. Sirius will look very sexy in that.”

The young men were so dismayed by the thought of wearing dress robes with slits that no one mentioned Dorcas’s comment about Sirius. She herself didn’t realize what she’d said until much later.

After half an hour of debating, Lily decided on a more classic robe and put away the magazines. Just when Dorcas thought she’d escaped maid of honor duties for the rest of the night, Lily returned to the sofa with a stack of loose parchment.

“Seating arrangements!” Lily announced.

The last deck of Exploding Snap blew up in Remus’s face, ending the fun for one night. Everyone was now condemned to planning the wedding without distraction. While Remus repaired his eyebrows, Potter passed around fresh butterbeers, and Sirius turned on the WWN.

“I left space in the front row for your dates,” Lily explained, glancing at the sheet.

“Dates?” Sirius asked, choking on a mouthful of butterbeer. “You didn’t say anything about dates.”

“You can’t go to a wedding alone, Sirius!” Lily exclaimed.

Dorcas regarded him curiously, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Am I hearing correctly? Sirius Black is worried about finding a date?”

“I’m not worried,” he replied, trying to sound casual.

“Then what’s the matter?” she laughed.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging his shoulders again.

All other conversations had ceased, and their friends were focused on Dorcas and Sirius. Pettigrew looked completely baffled by the exchange, but Potter, Remus, and Lily were on the edges of their seats. Sirius kept scowling at them.

“I’m going to get some crisps,” Lily said, standing up.

“Me too,” Potter and Remus chorused. “Come on, Pete.” Pettigrew followed them, questioning them about why it took four people to get a bag of crisps.

“So, who are you going with?” Sirius asked, fiddling with the corner of the seating chart.

“I asked Elijah Diggory,” Dorcas responded absently, looking at the doorway curiously.

“Piper Robins is coming with me.” He leaned back in his chair, tossing the parchment aside.

Dorcas turned sharply at the name. “That stupid know-it-all Ravenclaw leech? You can do better than that!”

The words had left her mouth before she could stop them. Sirius didn’t seem at all perturbed that she’d just insulted his date. Rather, he shrugged calmly and a knowing smirk spread across his lips.

“Didn’t know you cared so much about who I dated, Meadowes.”

When their friends re-entered the room, a frosty atmosphere had settled between Sirius and Dorcas. She couldn’t believe he had called her by her surname. She didn’t understand him at all. They had been getting on so well for almost four months, and then out of the blue, he starts treating her like an acquaintance again.

The last week of April and the first two weeks of May passed by quickly for Dorcas. She went to class during the day and preformed Order duties at night. Nearly all her free time was spent with Lily, planning for the caterers, trying on dress robes, and calming her nearly hysterical best friend.

Dorcas was questioning the wisdom of having asked her ex-boyfriend to go to a wedding with her. Elijah was a nice man, but so much had changed since their fifth-year at Hogwarts. On top of that, she was constantly agitated by the fact that Sirius--or Black, as she had started calling him again--was bringing Piper Robins to the wedding. Lily had mentioned once that Piper had never done anything to them, but dropped the subject when she saw the deadly look in Dorcas’s eyes.

The wedding was a simple affair. Lily had insisted that the ceremony was held in a Muggle church and that the guest list was kept to a minimum. There were some wizards she didn’t trust to not use magic in front of her Muggle relatives. Dorcas had grudgingly put on the horrid bridesmaid robe and stood with her best friend, trying her hardest not to think of what she must look like in the purple lacy mess.

More people had been invited to the reception, and Dorcas couldn’t help but notice that the tables full of Muggles had been liberally supplied with wine and champagne. When Dedalus Diggle shot stars out of his wand, half the Muggles roared their approval and the other half looked curiously at the empty bottles on the table.

“Toast!” Lily’s great aunt Daisy cried. Some inebriated wizard conjured a piece of toast and Professor McGonagall had to vanish it in mid-air as he chucked it towards Daisy Evans.

Dorcas stood up from her seat, prepared to lie through her teeth. Even on Lily’s wedding day, she couldn’t stand Potter. Her mood wasn’t improved by Piper Robins clutching onto Black’s arms like a blonde parasitic virus sucking the newfound humanity out of him. The venomous analogy startled her, so she turned her attention back to her speech.

“If you had told me, or anyone who went to Hogwarts with Lily and Pot--James, that we would be sitting here today celebrating their wedding, you would have been committed to St. Mungo’s and taken straight to the fourth floor.” The wizards in the room chuckled, and the Muggles glanced sidelong at the champagne bottles again. “In the past year and a half, we’ve all seen how much Lily and James care for each other. Even if it’s been a shock, I think we’ve realized that what is important isn’t the fights over House points they used to have, but the beautiful relationship they have now. To Lily and James!”

The guests lifted the glasses and drank to the newlyweds. Black stood up next, shrugging off Piper’s leech-like grip.

“James has been my best mate since our first train ride to Hogwarts and like my brother for nearly as long. I’ve always wanted what was best for him, and I didn’t always agree that that was Lily. James carried a torch for a long time, and it burned him every time he asked Lily on a date. He always told me persistence would pay off one day. It might not have worked for anyone he recommended it to, but it worked for him. To James and Lily!”

With the toasts complete, James jumped to his feet. “And now, it’s time for the traditional best man-maid of honor dance!”

Dorcas’s smile fell slowly. Most of the guests seemed similarly perplexed. Not to be deterred, James grasped Sirius’s elbow and lifted him out of his chair. Black, cursing under his breath the whole time, approached Dorcas. Lily prodded her best friend until she stood up just to get away from Lily’s aggressive fingers and followed Black onto the dance floor.

“I haven’t seen much of you the past few weeks,” Sirius commented.

Dorcas glanced at the numerous pairs of eyes watching their dance. She really wished Potter had chosen a song that wasn’t by Full Moon Blush, because now every time she listened to her favorite band she was going to think about Black and this stupid dance.

“Oh, so sorry the world doesn’t revolve around you, Black,” she snapped, emphasizing his surname.

He remained silent for a few moments, pondering what he had said wrong. “Actually, I haven’t seen you at all. I thought after Marlene … well, you know. I thought you might come by the Ministry during your lunch hour.”

“Sure, Black, I’ll do that when I have a moment between classes, exams, and Order work.”

Sirius blinked a few times, trying to reconcile her hostility with his statements. “Why are you using my surname again?”

Dorcas fairly glowered at him. “Do you ever listen to yourself or do you just like the sound of your own voice so much that you ramble on, never considering your own words, just becoming more enamored with yourself?”

“That was an awfully long sentence for someone lecturing about piety.”

Dorcas’s jaw worked silently, her brain so full of angry retorts that she couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

“And Dorcas, if you don’t want me to call you Meadowes anymore, just say so. Problems are a lot easier to solve if you actually talk about them.”

She huffed indignantly. “Well … fine. Why don’t we talk about your problems with me.”

Sirius raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t know I had a problem with you.”

“Then why did you bring Piper when you know how much I dislike her?”

“Why did you bring Diggory when you know how much I dislike him?” Sirius countered.

Dorcas opened her mouth, ready to retort, but lost her train of thought. “You don’t like Elijah? Why not?”

He averted his eyes, but couldn’t hide the wounded expression on his face or the frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I thought that would have been obvious.”

Dorcas was saved from having to answer by Professor Dumbledore clearing his throat. The song had ended and from the amused faces staring at the dancing pair, it had been over for quite some time.

Dorcas returned to her seat and accepted the glass of champagne Elijah handed to her. She was preoccupied with Sirius’s comment for the rest of the day, and it didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t dance with Piper Robins at all.


Chapter 11 - A Questionable Solution

October Twilight
Chapter Eleven
“A Questionable Solution”

September 9th, 1971
1st Year

The first week of school seemed to fly by. Between finding their way around the castle, classes, homework, and making new friends, the first-years were quite busy. Even Dorcas, whose entire family had gone to Hogwarts, was confused by the changing staircases and hidden passages. If it hadn’t been for the Fat Friar, Dorcas and her roommates would have missed breakfast every morning.

The morning routine was the only thing that remained constant the entire week. Dorcas always woke up to find Annabel perched on the edge of her bed already dressed and looking like she was afraid she’d miss something important. She barely said five sentences a day, but she’d clung to Dorcas for the same reason that Lily had searched for her every morning after breakfast: they were Muggle-borns and floundering in the magical world they had been thrust into.

On Friday morning, it took the girls an exceptionally long time to find Lily after breakfast. When she finally showed up in the entrance hall, Annabel was in a near panic. Herbology started at nine o’clock and that only gave them ten minutes to find the right greenhouse.

James Potter, who Dorcas knew well from her childhood, and Sirius Black came strolling out of the Great Hall just as the girls were heading for the front doors. They didn’t seem at all perturbed about the time.

“We found a shortcut to the greenhouses,” Potter announced.

Dorcas narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve had time to explore the castle already?”

Potter nodded. “Loads of time, like after curfew.”

Dorcas opened her mouth to scold him, but Annabel threw out her arm, knocking the wind out of her friend. She and Lily were both nervous about getting to class on time, and unlike Dorcas, didn’t know that the greenhouses were out the front doors and fifty feet to the left. They each grabbed one of Dorcas’s arms and pulled her down the corridor after Potter and Black.

For the next ten minutes, Potter and Dorcas bickered.

“This isn’t the right way! It can’t be. If you’d just go out the front doors—”

“You’re such a hopeless girl,” Potter muttered. “You’ve no sense of direction.”

“Why, yes, Potter, I am a girl. Merlin, you are stupid. And if we’re talking about hopeless, you’re such a typical boy that you haven’t even thought to ask a portrait for directions!”

Black cast Lily and Annabel an easy going smile. He nodded to Potter and Dorcas.

“How long until they realize they’ve led us past Morrigan the Mad four times?”

Dorcas noticed with a start that Morrigan was glaring at them reproachfully as they walked past her portrait again. Black waved at her, something she apparently did not find funny, because she made a sound like “humph” and left her portrait frame to visit her neighbor. Only when the bell rang a moment later did the students realize the time.

“See!” Dorcas yelled. “We’re late for Herbology now!”

“Don’t yell at me!” Potter shouted back.

Lily and Annabel walked ahead of their classmates, determined to arrive in class as soon as possible. Dorcas and Potter weren’t bickering anymore, but they seemed especially nervous about something. The girls knew why a minute later. A copper colored tabby cat slinked around the corner. It stared at them suspiciously for a moment before scampering off around the corner again.

“It’s Handel, Filch’s cat,” Black said.

“Run,” Potter instructed.

Lily and Annabel, not sure why they were running from a cat, why Potter knew they should, or how they were ever to explain such extreme tardiness, tried to ask questions while running. Potter led them down hidden passage ways, through doors, and up staircases before halting in front of a locked door. Dorcas bent over, placing her hands on her knees. There was a stitch in her side, and she was heaving for breath.

Potter had had no idea where he was running, Dorcas surmised. Nothing around them looked familiar at all. They were standing across from a tapestry of a wizard being clubbed by ballet dancing trolls, but there were no other reference points.

“We’ll split up,” Potter instructed. “Sirius and I can go look this way, you three go that way.”

Lily hurried off down the hallway, Annabel trailing behind her. Dorcas was very suspicious about splitting up. They were liable to end up on different sides of the castles with one wrong turn into a hidden passage. Lily led them up and down the hallway, leaning over the banister a few times to look below.

“No clue,” she sighed. “Let’s go see if James or Sirius found anything.”

The three girls hurried back to the tapestry. Potter and Black were already there, looking equally lost. Then, as Annabel joined her classmates, a door appeared in the opposite wall.

“What the …?” she exclaimed, jumping back from the wall.

Dorcas was about to suggest that they just go down the stairs and see where that led when Black opened the mysterious door. He and Potter edged inside, their eyes wide and jaws slightly slack. Lily went in next, a mischievous glint in her eye. Dorcas followed them, curiosity finally overcoming her more practical side.

Shelves stocked and overflowing lined every wall. Some held books, others contained jars of candy, and still others were filled with odd magical gadgets. Potter and Black worked their way around the room slowly, stopping occasionally to experiment with an item on the shelf. Annabel headed straight for the candy jars and began stuffing her pockets with the sweets. Lily had gravitated towards a bookshelf and was thumbing through a fat, leather bound book entitled Famous Muggle-born Wizards of the 16th Century .

A loud popping noise shortly preceded a cloud of chalky dust rising out of Black’s hand. When the dust cleared, Black and Potter were shoving boxes of chalk into their knapsacks.

“This is everything we need to have a great year!” Black declared.

Suddenly, the door of the mysterious room crashed against the wall, causing the five students to jump in surprise.

“Ha! Didn’t think I’d find you, eh?” Filch growled, eyeing them suspiciously. He glanced around the room, frowning. “Come on, you’re coming straight to Professor McGonagall’s office. Hope you enjoyed your first and last week at Hogwarts, truants.”

Annabel and Lily trudged behind Filch, their heads hung and shoulders drooping. Black and Potter lagged behind, purposely trying to upset Filch, but Dorcas kept up with the caretaker. Only the girls seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. On their way to Professor McGonagall’s office, the bell rang again, signaling the end of the class. They had completely missed their very first Herbology class.

Filch led them into the Transfiguration professor’s office, triumphantly announcing that he had caught the students on the seventh floor raiding a supply closet. Professor McGonagall looked shocked and angry. She rounded on the students, cheeks flushed and lips pressed into a thin line.

They were going to be expelled, Dorcas knew it.

“Well,” Professor McGonagall huffed. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“We didn’t raid any closet,” Black replied, shooting a nasty look at Filch.

“Proof’s in his bag, Professor,” Filch insisted.

“Hand it over, Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall ordered, holding out her hand.

She shuffled through Black’s bag, removing about twenty boxes of chalk. With raised eyebrows, she glanced at him, clearly thinking that he was mad. Potter’s bag too produced about the same amount of chalk boxes. Annabel got away with taking the candy, even after Filch objected. The professor insisted that Hogwarts supply closets were not stocked with sweets.

McGonagall glanced at the stack of chalk boxes on her desk before turning back to the students. Apparently, she thought stealing chalk wasn’t worth punishment because she dismissed Filch’s theft charges.

“Anything to say for your truant behavior?” she asked.

“We were lost,” Lily began, but Filch cut her off.

“Rubbish! They were in the Defense corridor, not ten steps from Morrigan’s portrait! They were late for class and ran from Handel.”

Mr. Filch stroked his cat’s head proudly. The tabby hissed at Black when he looked at it.

“We weren’t running from you,” Potter defended. “We were running to class. We took a wrong turn into a secret passage way.”

Professor McGonagall’s features softened slightly at this defense.

“First year students cannot be expected to know every turn in the castle,” she stated. “However, you have forced my hand. You have missed your entire Herbology class. I have no choice in the matter. Five points will be taken from each of you. Miss Knight, Miss Meadowes, you will to see Professor Sprout immediately after your lessons today.”

The first-years filed out of the Transfiguration professor’s office. Lily, Potter, and Black headed up the next staircase for their Charms class while Annabel and Dorcas took the stairs down for their Potions class.

“Lucky were didn’t get detention,” Annabel sighed.

“Lucky? Lucky! I’m going to kill Potter the next time I see him! Well, at least Gryffindor lost more points than Hufflepuff.”

“It was a good adventure, though, wasn’t it? I wonder what that room was all about. Are there many magical rooms like that?”

“Now that you mention it, no, there aren’t.” Dorcas glanced over her shoulder in the general direction of the Room of Requirement. “But I don’t like adventures.”

*~*~*

May, 1979

Dorcas stood at the window, peering out into the heavy mist pressing against the glass. Not for the first time, she sighed and paced the length of the room again. A small pink duffle bag lay beside the door and a traveling cloak hung from the coat rack above it. The fire in the hearth had been extinguished and all the charmed lamps turned off. Shadowy darkness spread over the flat, half hiding Dorcas’s face as she turned again towards the window.

She was less concerned with the weather than with the hundred unanswerable questions hounding her. She couldn’t even sit still, because her only release from the frustration was movement.

A week ago, she and Sirius had been eating lunch in the Ministry cafeteria when Moody had approached them with a message from Dumbledore: they were needed at headquarters that night. The Headmaster had asked them to undertake a secret and highly dangerous mission for the Order, which they had agreed to do immediately.

For the last week, Dorcas hadn’t given much thought to the mission itself, but to her involvement in it. Going to Greece and locating some witch Dumbledore thought was important wouldn’t be that difficult. What caused her suspicion was that Dumbledore had asked she and Sirius to go.

On the one hand, she was the only member of the Order who spoke Greek and knew the magical locations in Greece well, having spent many summers there. However, an advanced Translation Charm could have solved that problem—with unsuspecting Muggles anyway. With Lily and Potter—no, she had to call him James now—on their honeymoon in France and Remus still occupied with the werewolves in northern Scotland, Dumbledore’s choices were somewhat limited, but surely Moody and Healer Bones would have gone if asked.

Instead, Dumbledore had assigned the task to Dorcas and Sirius, the two Order members not everyone trusted. She had discussed this with Sirius a hundred times in the past week, but he had shrugged it off and told her she was holding a grudge. Maybe she was, but the fact remained that Dumbledore had asked her to join the Order four months after her classmates, lectured her repeatedly about using Occlumency, as if she had forgotten how much damage she could cause, and had refused to give her important tasks since she used Legilimency on Snape.

On top of all this, there was the fact that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was looking for her. According to the Order spies, Dorcas was now a priority of the Dark Lord’s. He had given orders for her capture and promised torture beyond tolerance to any Death Eater who injured or killed her. Dorcas had been marked.

And now, in this volatile situation, Dumbledore was asking her to go on a mission that would take her into the heart of the magical world, to Greece, the place where Dark magicians had honed their skills and created their spells.

As if her physical well-being wasn’t enough of a distraction, there was the matter of spending an indefinite amount of time alone with Sirius. Dumbledore had already placed the wards on them that made both Sirius and Dorcas Untraceable. For however long it took to find this witch in Greece, Sirius would be her only companion. Not even the post owls could find them until the wards were lifted.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Ever since Lily and James’s wedding, she’d been preoccupied with his behavior. All the signs led to one conclusion that she was not willing to accept. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t believe Sirius felt something for her. He obviously did, to have offered his friendship in her time of need. It was that she wasn’t comfortable with her feelings towards him.

For so long, she had defined him by his actions only. Now that she knew a deeper side of Sirius, she couldn’t so easily justify the conclusion that he was arrogant, insolent, and generally a nuisance. He was arrogant, but by no means insolent, and she genuinely enjoyed his company.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and saved her from having to dwell on these uncomfortable emotions. She let Sirius in and shut the door against the unnaturally cold wind stirring the dementors’ mist.

“What, no tongue lashing for being late?” Sirius quipped, tossing his bag next to Dorcas’s. “That’s a first.”

“You’re late?” she asked, turning to look at the clock. He was indeed forty minutes late.

His smile slipped and he hunched his shoulders to look into Dorcas’s down turned eyes. “You all right?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just brooding over the same things we’ve been talking about for a week.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced around the flat to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Well, we should get going.”

Sirius watched her closely as she moved over to the bags. He opened his mouth, but shut it just as quickly and watched as she flicked her wand at the bags and they disappeared.

“Transmigration Charm?” he asked. “Impressive. I missed that one on the practical NEWT.”

They left the flat a few minutes later and headed down to the street to where Sirius had parked his motorbike. Dumbledore had insisted that they travel in as non-magical way as possible, because all magic left traces, even if the wizards were Untraceable. He had agreed that the motorbike would be good enough, as long as they didn’t fly it until they were out of the country.

“I made some adjustments,” Sirius commented, mounting the bike. “She can go a hundred and seventy-five now.” He patted the motorbike lovingly, like it was a pet rather than a flying vehicle.

“Greece is still quite far away,” Dorcas laughed.

“Lucky I put a Relocation Charm on her too, isn’t it?”

“Ingenious, as always, Sirius! But Relocation Charms on large objects only work for up to three hundred kilometers even when cast by the most powerful wizard.”

Sirius peered over his shoulder, frowning playfully. “You can never let someone know more than you, can you?” He flipped his wand and the motorbike roared to life.

“I have to make up for all those years of coming in fourth to the Gryffindorks’ grades.”

Sirius made a sound halfway between a laugh and a shout. “Fourth place you were. Accept it and be awed by my amazing magical abilities.”

They sped through the streets of London, the Relocation Charm working wonders through the traffic. In what seemed like mere minutes, they were tearing past the cliffs of Dover. Sirius pressed the flight button, and they soared above the English Channel.

Dorcas closed her eyes and let the wind whip through her hair. As they crossed into France, the mist evaporated and the air warmed. The dread that had been weighing on Dorcas for days, the result of the breeding dementors, lifted and she let out a joyful whoop that was lost on the rushing wind. The troubles of the British wizarding world seemed to vanish so high above the clouds, and she was taken back to a time when life had been all about having fun.

Sirius landed the bike twice that day, once in Luxembourg and once in Venice, for meals and to stretch their legs. Dorcas was truly impressed with the charms he’d placed on the motorbike.

In Venice, they found a small villa hotel surrounding an outdoor eatery in the courtyard. The Muggle owner, who spoke neither English nor Greek, found himself suddenly understanding his two English guests and accepting their payment in the form of gold coins.

“Nice work,” Sirius muttered. “You realize you’re going to have to keep Confunding him or he’ll want Muggle money.”

Dorcas only laughed as she pushed open the door to the hotel room. She wasn’t worried about violating wizarding regulations. It felt so wonderful to be out of Britain and away from the war. Besides, she had given the man more than enough Galleons to cover the cost.

The room was small, but had a balcony facing south. The warm breeze carried the smell of salt water from the Adriatic Sea. It reminded her of childhood summers in Greece and walks on the beach with her grandmother. The Aegean was more turbulent than the Adriatic, but the crashing waves still sounded like heavenly music from happier times.

“You look happy to be on your way home,” Sirius mentioned, stretching out on the bed closest to the door.

Dorcas opened her eyes slowly, her smile slipping away. “Greece isn’t really my home, not anymore. I’ve always called home wherever my family is, and there’s no one left in Greece.”

“I know what you mean.”

She looked up sharply. “I thought you didn’t see your family anymore.”

“Family’s what you make it. Right now, my family is on their honeymoon in France and hiding out in Scotland and standing guard in Somerset.”

“Oh.” Dorcas shifted uncomfortably.

She was forcefully reminded of a day late in January when she’d gone to Godric’s Hollow, intent on warning James about his future. He hadn’t listened to her, and she had made a vow to tell someone who would protect Lily and James at all costs.

“I should have known you and James were like brothers.”

“Oh, we’re not like brothers. We are brothers.”

Dorcas gazed at him silently, all of her joy gone as she realized the real tragedy of what she had witnessed in her visions. She hadn’t only watched two people die; she had also watched one man lose half of his family. She looked away quickly, blinking back the tears. She knew what that felt like, and she couldn’t let it happen. This was her last chance. If Sirius wouldn’t listen to her, no one could change the future.

“Sirius, there’s something I have to tell you. You probably won’t want to hear it, but I’m begging you to listen anyway.”

He climbed off the bed and moved over to Dorcas. When he saw the tears clouding her eyes, he nodded silently. She motioned to the chairs on the balcony, indicating that he should be sitting while she talked. As she explained the visions to him, the seriousness on his face deepened and became fear, horror, and finally grief. He dropped his head into his hands as she finished, unable to look at her any longer, but she saw the wetness in his eyes.

“The fact is,” Dorcas finished, wiping the tears from her own cheeks, “I don’t know James that well, and Lily doesn’t trust me, not totally, anyway. When the time comes, they’re going to turn to you. I can only tell you what will happen if events unfold according to the course Lily and James have chosen now. If you can make them change something, even one decision, their entire future can be different.”

A dead weight settled into Dorcas’s chest. She had expected the burden to lighten after sharing it with someone else, but she only felt selfish. She knew how painful it was to carry around the secrets of the future. Whether they came true or not was inconsequential, because the fear of what might happen was always enough to overwhelm and terrorize the one who thought about it too much. For the first time in her life, she had pushed the burden onto someone else.

“Please don’t hate me for telling you this,” she whispered.

When Sirius looked up his eyes were dry, but his skin was pale and clammy. “I could never hate you.”

But his answer didn’t do anything to lessen her self-loathing. Yet, she knew she had done the right thing. She would never forgive herself for it, but it had been right.

Sharing a room with Sirius hadn’t been as bad as Dorcas assumed it would be. As much as she would have preferred her own hotel room, it just wasn’t safe to be alone and Untraceable on such an important mission. Sirius spent as long in the bathroom as Dorcas did and had entirely too much fun playing with the electric light switch, but his antics only made her laugh. Even his cocky grin wasn’t so difficult to bear away from the war.

Dorcas’s good mood didn’t last much longer than the night, however. Most of the next day would be spent flying over the Adriatic Sea and Greece. Their first destination was Athens, as Dorcas was most familiar with that city. Greece was a beautiful country with a rich history and culture, but there was a darker side also. From Egypt, wizards had brought magic to Greece, and it was there that Dark magic was created. Even in the 1970’s some areas of the country were too dangerous for young witches and wizards. It was most likely that Dorcas and Sirius would have to travel to those same locations Simon and Petra Meadowes had forbidden their daughter to visit during her childhood.

“Do you know why we’ve been sent?” Dorcas asked, over breakfast.

Sirius shook his head. “I can only guess.”

“It just doesn’t make sense!” she cried. “Dumbledore tells us there’s some witch called Aradia somewhere in Greece, but he won’t tell us why we have to find her, what to say to her, or if we should bring her home! If she’s really that important, then why wasn’t he specific? Why isn’t he coming himself?”

“It’s not safe for Dumbledore to leave the country, you know that. He leaves Britain for a day and that’s it. Voldemort will destroy Hogwarts and the Ministry.”

Dorcas leaned back in her chair. A dull ache was forming behind her eyes the more she thought about these unanswerable questions. She rubbed her temples wearily.

“Yeah, I know. Still, why us?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, Dorcas. I know you want answers now, but you’re not going to get them. Dumbledore said we would know what to do when we found Aradia. You’ll get your answers then. Let’s go to Greece, find this witch, and go home.”

“I can’t help but think that it’s not going to work like that.”

Sirius froze, his fork full of eggs suspended in mid-air. “You … think that? Or you know that?”

Dorcas dropped her head into her hands and growled in frustration. “I think it’s just a thought, but then it’s also intuition, and you know what that means with me.” She looked up at Sirius again. “I don’t know. What I do know is that we’re burning daylight. We need to be in Athens before nightfall.”

He laid down his fork and pushed his plate away. “All right. But, Dorcas, you’re using Occlumency, right? This is going to get dangerous ….”

Dorcas tried to smile. “I know, but honestly, I don’t think Occlumency can help me anymore. You-Know-Who is looking for me and my mental defenses against his Legilimency are going to be as effective as a first-year casting an Unforgivable.”

“Don’t get fatalistic!” Sirius hissed.

“It’s hard not to when you’re a Seer. You tend to believe what you See is real, whether it is or not.”

Dorcas dropped a few Galleons onto the table, thanked the owner for the meal, and headed towards the sidewalk where Sirius had parked the motorbike.

“That might explain your personality,” Sirius said, following her.

“Beg pardon?”

“You’re so damn sure about everything!”

Dorcas laughed hollowly. “If you only knew ….”

The flight to Athens was much less enjoyable than the first half of the journey. Flying during the day meant they had to stay above the clouds where the Mediterranean sun burned and the harsh wind stung their skin. As most of the flight was over the Adriatic Sea, there were no places to stop and rest until they arrived in Greece.

Another thirteen hours later, Sirius landed the motorbike well outside the city limits of Athens. On one side of the motorway, towering cliffs with scattered olive trees reared high into the sky and on the other side, rugged waves crashed against the sea wall. Dorcas breathed in the humid air and gazed at the rocky terrain, glad to be back in Greece and guilty that she was enjoying it without Darius.

She came to her senses a moment later, remembering something very crucial about Greece.

“The other side of the road! Get on the other side of the road!”

Sirius peered over his shoulder and shouted, “Why?”

She took one arm from its place around his waist and gestured frantically at an oncoming car. “Greek Muggles drive on the other side!” Sirius swerved just in time to miss the vehicle, but the Muggles inside barely noticed. “They also drive very recklessly,” she added.

He laughed in response. “I think I like Greek Muggles.”

Dorcas directed Sirius to stop at a hotel ten minutes later. Her Greek was a little rusty, but she paid for a room without a hitch. She had exchanged some Galleons for Greek bank notes at Gringotts before leaving Britain and had practiced counting it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Sirius asked, flopping onto the bed nearest the door.

Dorcas waved her wand in a complicated pattern and their bags appeared from thin air. She tossed Sirius’s to him. “We check the magical places.”

“Won’t that be … ah, pointless? I mean, any foreign witch important enough for Dumbledore to want to know about is going to be even more famous in her own country, don’t you think? She’s probably made herself Untraceable.”

“All magic leaves traces even if the witch is Untraceable,” Dorcas replied, reciting the Charms lesson from memory.

“You think if Dumbledore made himself Untraceable we’d be able to find him?”

Dorcas stopped sorting through her bag. She turned to look at Sirius. “Okay, so … This is going to be harder than I thought.” She plopped onto the bed next to him. “Any ideas?”

“Nope.”

“Well that was helpful, thanks.”

Sirius grinned at her. “When in doubt, one must all always ask the same question.” He paused dramatically. “What would Lily do?”


Dorcas laughed despite herself and shoved his shoulder playfully. “Seriously, though …” A strange expression crossed her face and Sirius let out a bark-like laugh.

“I knew you’d do it eventually. Continue.”

“Right,” she said, shaking her head. “Any viable ideas?”

“There has to be some way to find her otherwise Dumbledore wouldn’t have sent us. What type of magic is strong enough to counter a powerful Untraceable Charm?”

They sat in silence for several minutes just staring at one another. “Oh come on!” Dorcas cried. “You must have covered this in Auror training!”

Sirius raised one eyebrow. “Must I have? Tell me, if I came to you with an infected bite and refused to tell you what bit me, could you heal me?” She huffed at him, which only made him grin wider. “There must be some kind of magic that everyone is susceptible to. We just have to figure—”

“That’s it! Remember what Dumbledore said at our--my--first Order meeting in October? Even the bravest are defenseless against certain types of magic. Nobody can hide from the future.”

Sirius was silent for a moment. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but he couldn’t find any flaw with the plan. “All right … Find her.”

She chuckled softly. “It doesn’t work like that. At least, not for me. I could try tarot cards or reading tea leaves, but those usually only work if the person is sitting with me.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You mean all that crap Almida taught us wasn’t a hoax? It can actually work?”

Dorcas frowned deeply. “It wasn’t crap! Professor Almida was a very good teacher! You just don’t have the Sight, so you thought she was a loon. Granted, she’s not as good as …” Dorcas cleared her throat. “Anyway, I think our best bet--”

“She’s not as good as who?”

“--is to visit some magical places. I can try to focus on the short term at each location and see if she shows up at all,” she continued.

“You were going to say she’s not as good as you are.”

“I think we should start with the islands. They’re the most remote, but aren’t nearly as Dark as some other places.” She turned to her bags, resolutely ignoring Sirius.

“I knew you weren’t as pious as you always pretended to be.”

“Crete is almost a certainty for anyone trying to hide. Everyone is so worried about the politics of the Muggle population on the island that wizards walk around in broad daylight casting spells and no one notices.”

“Yeah, you know how good you are. And to think, all these years you lectured me about being arrogant,” Sirius laughed, lounging back on a pile of pillows.

Next thing he knew, he was hanging upside down by his ankle and staring into Dorcas’s angry face.

“Do not compare my behavior to yours at Hogwarts. There is a huge difference between acknowledging one’s abilities and flaunting them just for the hell of it.”

She lifted her wand and he fell to the floor. Sirius watched her stomp across the room and begin throwing her pajamas onto the bed.

“You really hated me, didn’t you?”

“Of course I didn’t. If I had, I would have never given you a second chance. I hated the way you wasted your popularity and talent.”

Sirius pushed himself up from the floor and crossed the room. When he flopped onto the bed, her neatly arranged toiletries went flying.

“But I didn’t.” She looked up sharply, splotches of color appearing on her cheeks. “I joined A.W.E., didn’t I?” He sighed lightly. “You used to know about something else I did with my extraordinary magical talent.”

“The thing I Saw in fifth-year but can’t remember?” Sirius nodded. “Still aren’t going to give me a hint?” He shook his head. “But you promise it wasn’t a waste?”

“Marauder’s honor.”

Her expression softened somewhat. “Any way to corroborate your story?”

“Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs,” he replied, a sparkle in his eyes.

“I know why you call Remus Moony,” she said, grinning. “I predicted it in third-year. And I remember that I used Legilimency on you and Saw James with an antler.” Sirius looked disconcerted to hear this, but she continued, gauging his reaction closely. “I just wonder what hex you used on poor Peter for him to be called Wormtail.”

She knew she was way off the mark when he relaxed. She cursed lightly and grabbed her pajamas from the floor.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. And as punishment, I’m taking the first shower and using all the hot water.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Sirius laughing raucously. “I’m a wizard! I’ll just charm the water.”

Dorcas popped her head out of the room and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Really mature.”

“You’re one to talk,” she called. “When I’m finished, I’m putting an Uncharmable Charm on the showerhead!”

Sirius raced to the bathroom door. “That’s not fair! I’ve never pulled a prank on you!”

The door flew open. Dorcas tried to look serious, but she was giggling so much that she couldn’t manage to wipe the smile off her face.

“Oh really? I recall a Muggle light bulb that floated above my head for a whole week until Professor Flitwick figured out the countercharm. Then there was a cleverly concealed concoction that turned my hair--”

“So you admit it was clever!”

Dorcas paused in mid-sentence, her mouth wide open. He put one finger under her chin and pushed her jaw closed. For a moment, Dorcas thought he was going to kiss her. His fingers brushed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. Next moment, he had backed away. Dorcas watched him move across the room, not for the first time noticing how handsome he was. She retreated into the bathroom, her feelings towards Sirius clearer than she would have preferred.


Chapter 12 - Encounters

October Twilight
Chapter Twelve
“Encounters”

September 30th, 1973
3rd Year

The newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor stood in front of his third-year class surveying them silently. Jonah O’Brien had been a Ravenclaw during his days at Hogwarts and didn’t particularly care for the practical side of Defense. At least, that’s what he had told the mixture of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws on the first day of class. He had been even less enthused after the first test when he discovered the third-year Ravenclaws were taking fifth place in grades to Remus Lupin, James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, and Dorcas Meadowes. Upon further checking, he had discovered that this was true in all their classes. Since then, he had taken to glaring at Dorcas during lectures.

His announcement that the class would finally be using their wands came as a great surprise. There was a boggart hiding in his desk, and he wanted his third-years to deal with it. The way he smirked arrogantly at the Hufflepuffs revealed his true intentions. He was desperate to prove that Ravenclaws were better. At least, that’s what Dorcas thought.

Annabel didn’t believe it, and Jeremiah Abbott had laughed at her expense, but Dorcas wouldn’t change her mind because two of her friends didn’t agree with her. She knew how Ravenclaws operated. O’Brien probably thought the Hufflepuffs would faint upon seeing their greatest fear embodied. Dorcas knew better. She and her classmates weren’t “leftovers” from the Sorting like some people claimed. They were honest and kind-hearted, and that took a different kind of courage than the Gryffindor variety.

“Can anyone tell me what a boggart looks like?” O’Brien asked, once all the students had crammed themselves into his office.

Dorcas raised her hand, as did three-fourths of the Ravenclaws. She growled in frustration and rolled her eyes. She hated having classes with that House.

“Bloody know-it-alls,” she mumbled.

Annabel stifled her laughter while Sun Kim rattled off an unnecessarily long answer and received five points for it. After ten more minutes of lecturing and practicing the incantation, O’Brien ordered the students to form a line. Dorcas and Annabel queued up behind Sun and in front of their other Housemates.

The Ravenclaws took their time challenging the boggart. Half of them, so intent on memorizing the theory, had completely neglected the wand movement. When it came to her turn, Dorcas was in such a good mood, she knew she wouldn’t have any trouble defeating the boggart.

She stepped in front of the hissing python with her wand ready. With a sharp crack! the snake disappeared. It was replaced by a great black dog, growling ferociously and baring its huge teeth. Several people gasped, and a few students shuffled away from the Grim. Dorcas faltered, her mind painfully blank as the spectral dog approached.

She had expected a chimera, the most frightening of Greek monsters. She could have handled tying together its many serpent heads. She didn’t know what to do to make the Grim funny. Death wasn’t funny! There was no way to make it funny! She groaned audibly as the truth hit her. She hadn’t dug deep enough when contemplating her greatest fear. Yes, she was terrified of the serpent monster, but not because it was a many-headed snake. She feared it because no one had ever survived an encounter with a chimera. It was the inescapability of death that truly frightened her.

“Perhaps I should take over?” O’Brien drawled, a cold sneer lifting one corner of his mouth.

Dorcas swallowed thickly. She refused to fail this lesson and prove O’Brien’s point. She had always done well in practical Defense before, and she was determined to do well now.

“It’s just a dog, not death. It’s just a dog. It’s just a dog,” she whispered. She took a deep breath, flicked her wand and cried, "Riddikulus!”

With another crack! the Grim turned into a shaggy black Labrador gnawing on a fuzzy pink slipper. Her classmates laughed appreciatively, and Dorcas moved to the back of the line.

“Half marks, Miss Meadowes,” O’Brien announced dryly as she passed. “Had that been a real Grim, you would have died before you could have defended yourself.”

Dorcas paused, not sure how to respond. On the one hand, she had never talked back to an adult in her life. However, her dislike of O’Brien and Ravenclaws in general prompted her answer.

“Well, sir,” she replied, forcing herself to stay calm. “Considering that the Grim is a spectral dog, there really is not much I could do it in the first place. So really, I could stare at it unharmed until I died. No pun intended.”

“You should leave the cheek to your friend Evans, she does it much better. Fifteen points from Hufflepuff.”

*~*~*

May, 1979

As the sun settled behind the horizon, Dorcas rose from her place on the balcony. She had been sitting on the ledge, looking out at the city that had been her summer home for eleven years. Athens was glorious at sunset, with the fading light painting the Acropolis and the Parthenon red and the crashing waves creating a never-ending song. It was easy to see how the Greeks lived so joyfully, and Dorcas missed it dearly.

“It’s time?” Sirius asked, rising from the bed.

“It’ll take us half an hour to reach Delphi. All the tourists should be gone by then.”

Dorcas had tried to deny that the witch she and Sirius had been sent to find was at Delphi. For two weeks, they had searched magical sites from Sparta to Thessalonica to Crete. Finally, Dorcas had to admit that the witch Dumbledore had sent them to find was at Delphi, the most magical place in all of Greece.

Muggles flocked to Delphi, claiming that the god Apollo had once resided there and some believed that he still did. Many Muggles claimed to have “felt something” there. Indeed, they had felt something. There was so much magic around Delphi that even some Muggles acknowledged its existence.

What concerned Dorcas wasn’t the myths about magic at Delphi, but the fact that no one, Muggle or magic, had ever been able to prove why there was magic there. Most wizards had come to believe that it was the place where Dark magic had first been created thousands of years ago. No respectable witch or wizard dared go there.

It was these arguments that finally convinced Dorcas Delphi was the only place in Greece He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would care about. And Dumbledore wouldn’t send two Order members to search for anything or anyone that wasn’t important to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

On Sirius’s motorbike, they had crisscrossed the country in a fortnight. The speed and charms on the bike had greatly eased their search. Dorcas had come to love the vehicle almost as much as Sirius did. She had never been much of a flyer, but when she sat on the back of the motorbike with the wind whipping her hair and the sun above the clouds warming her skin, she could understand why so many wizards enjoyed Quidditch.

Sirius landed the motorbike on an empty stretch of motorway at the base of the mountain. Dorcas craned her neck to see the ancient monument where the oracle was said to dwell. The silvery last quarter moon cast dark shadows along the craggy foothills and broken stone paths leading to the temple of Apollo. The white rocks gleamed in the moonlight, and the branches of olive trees swayed in the chilly breeze.

“Let’s go,” she said, pulling on a rucksack and thrusting another at Sirius.

“Can’t we just conjure up whatever we need like we did at all the other locations?” he sighed.

“If you think you can conjure up advanced spellbooks, ancient rune translators, and secrecy sensors, then I’d be happy to leave all this behind.”

Dutifully, Sirius shouldered the pack and followed Dorcas. At first, she led him along the tourist footpaths. Every few minutes, she would pause and glance around. Once, she crouched down and placed her palms against the steps.

“Are you doing it?” he questioned. “What do you See? Is she here?”

Dorcas opened her eyes slowly. “Considering that I don’t know what she looks like …”

Sirius fell silent, sufficiently chided by her snappy comment. She had been snipping at him a lot lately, not because he was doing anything wrong, but out of frustration. She had used her ability to search for Aradia, but hadn’t found a single trace of the witch anywhere. What she had seen were glimpses of Muggle tourists gaping at the splendors of Greece and Dark wizards practicing magic in the dead of night. She knew more about these future visitors than she wanted to and it was taking its toll. Sirius had been a great friend through it all. He stirred clover into her tea to help her sleep and powered root of narcissus for the headaches.

“Get off the path!” she hissed.

Without waiting, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him off the footpath and along the rocky cliffs.

“There’s no one coming,” he protested, peering down the steep slope.

“That’s what you know. Hurry up!” Dorcas barked. “Remember that I’ve just seen the future, not the present. Delphi isn’t a place we want to be seen. Especially not by the person who is coming.”

“Then shouldn’t we go back and wait to come until later?”

Although she was standing mostly in the shadows, Sirius could see that she was debating. Finally, she turned and began climbing up the slope again.

“I can’t say for sure when is safe. All I know is that he’s coming … soon.”

“Who?”

Dorcas ducked into a low hole in the cliff face and emerged into a domed cavern. Sirius followed after her, cursing in a low voice about wild animals and Dark wizards lurking everywhere. She laughed, but stopped abruptly when the sound echoed.

“What’s this? My brave Gryffindor is afraid of an animal?”

A slow smile crept onto Sirius’s mouth as he edged closer. “Your brave Gryffindor?”

Dorcas bit her lip and cursed silently. She hadn’t meant to say any of the thousands of thoughts that had been swirling around in her head for the past two weeks. In isolation from Lily and Remus, unable to vent her frustration, and without an effective Occlumency shield, she had been forced to deal with her emotions rather than superficially rage about them.

“This isn’t the time, Sirius,” she answered, moving away. “We need to find Aradia and go. Delphi isn’t a safe place.”

She laid her palms flat against the wall, and for a moment Sirius thought she was going to close her eyes and concentrate. Instead, she pushed on a flat expanse of rock. Next moment, an archway leading down a long, pitch black tunnel appeared in the rock face.

“How did you know …?”

“I Saw it when I touched the path.”

The moment Dorcas stepped inside, a series of torches flared to life. The fires sat in brass sconces shaped like chimeras and the flickering light reflected off the rough jewels embedded in the cave walls. In the stone of the narrow walkway was carved ancient Greek symbols older than the modern alphabet and heavily influenced by Egyptian hieroglyphs.

“Come on,” she whispered, moving down the path.

Behind her, Sirius stepped through the archway and was plunged into darkness. The secret door snapped shut, cutting off the moonlight just as Dorcas moved out of sight. He groped for his wand.

“Lumos!” He stared into the darkness towards his right hand. “Lumos!” he repeated. Again, nothing happened. “Lumos! Lumos! Lumos!”

“What are you doing?” Dorcas demanded, grabbing his left wrist again. “Come on.”

“My wand doesn’t work.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Do you think ancient Dark wizards wanted Aurors to come storming into their secret lair? No wand magic will work in here or in most historical magical places in Greece. That’s why so many Dark wizards come here. Only wandless magic or Dark magic works in places like these, and it’s a very rare Auror who can cast powerful spells without a wand or is willing to study and use Dark magic.”

For several minutes, Sirius followed Dorcas down the path. She had released him awhile ago, but he clung to her wrist with one hand and groped around with the other.

“Are you claustrophobic?” she wondered.

“No.”

“Then why are you cutting off the circulation to my fingers?”

“How can you stand it?” Sirius asked. “It’s so black in here!”

Dorcas glanced around at the sconces and elaborately tiled floor. “I didn’t think your family would opt for the ancient Mediterranean décor. It’s a bit too cheery for them, isn’t it?”

After a slight pause, Sirius chuckled appreciatively. “Yes, this pit of darkness would be too cheerful for the noble and most ancient house of Black.” He spat the last words with such venom that it sent chills up Dorcas’s spine.

“Pit of darkness? Isn’t that a bit strong? I mean, the ancients used these symbols. The chimeras are a bit frightening, but—”

“Chimeras?” Sirius asked, jerking backwards as if one of the creatures was advancing on him. His skull connected with a heavy metal object.

“Yes, chimeras,” Dorcas huffed impatiently. “Honestly, you act like you’ve never had a Defense Against the Dark Arts class in your life.”

Sirius looked dumbfounded. “Are you telling me that you’re willing to fight a chimera?”

Dorcas shook her head slowly, equally perplexed. “Stop messing around, Sirius. We need to find Aradia.”

“Not if we have to get through a chimera to do it.”

“What are you talking about?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the path. He resisted and tried to pull out of her grasp, like a dog that doesn’t want to walk on a leash.

“I’m willing to try a lot of things, but fighting a chimera is not one of them!” Dorcas raised her eyebrows at him. He misunderstood the impatient gesture and added, “Not without a properly functioning wand, that is.”

Dorcas gave on final tug on Sirius’s hand. They stumbled into an antechamber filled with pale blue light. Overhead, a series of slits had been carved into the stone and the moonlight filtered in through the cracks. Six arches, identical to the one they had just emerged from, with ancient symbols carved in the stone, surrounded a fountain spewing tiny baubles of light.

Dorcas edged closer to the fountain, enchanted by the sparkling and splashing dots of light. In the floor of the basin was painted a perfect model of the night sky and the corresponding astrological signs.

“Oh, damn. There’s nowhere to go. I guess we’ll have to let someone else find the chimera,” Sirius intoned.

Dorcas grabbed Sirius just before he walked into the tunnel. She glanced down the long corridor, eyeing the sconces closely. They were indeed chimeras. Beside her, Sirius was staring into darkness, unable to see the rock wall right in front of his face.

“They’re just brass, Sirius. Merlin, you’re acting like a scared Ravenclaw. And there are plenty of options to choose from. Come look at the fountain.”

Sirius turned around slowly, studying Dorcas through the pale light. She was bent over, gazing intently at thin air.

“You know, most Hogwarts students use the phrase, ‘Scared as a Hufflepuff.’” When she didn’t respond, he moved closer. “Did that tunnel addle your brains?”

“What? No. Isn’t this beautiful?”

Sirius glanced around, first at the damp walls of the domed cavern and then at the rocky dirt floor Dorcas had motioned to. He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very concerned about her mental health. Maybe he shouldn’t have encouraged her to use the Sight so much. Most Seers were a bit loony, possibly as a result of Seeing too much.

Dorcas placed her palms on the marble basin, leaning over further to peer through the lights. The painting of the zodiac began swirling rapidly until all the stars blurred together. Just as suddenly, it stopped dead, and Dorcas was staring down into the face of the Water-Bearer, the symbol of Aquarius.

She stumbled backwards, amazed and disconcerted at the same time. Somehow, the fountain knew her sign just by her touch. She swallowed thickly and rubbed her palms on her robes. What looked beautiful and alluring was often the Darkest of magic. Still, something drew her to the fountain. The sparkling lights seemed more than what they were, almost as if they were alive and teeming for release.

“Sirius, come here.”

He approached slowly, regarding her cautiously. “Touch the basin.”

He blinked several times. “What?”

“Touch the basin.”

“Umm … Dorcas. Look, maybe we should—”

She grabbed his wrist and forced his palm against the marble. Sirius jerked away wildly. “Holy shit! There really is something there!”

Dorcas made to answer him, but the words died on her lips. Sirius had stepped forward and laid one hand against the marble. Instead of spinning and stopping on his zodiac sign, the lights began to swirl frantically. The baubles splashed against the basin like so many glittering waves. As Sirius stepped away from the rim, three of the dots of light lurched over the side. They fell to the floor and shattered like glass. Sirius jumped backwards, having not seen the lights break. Dorcas watched in horror as smoky figures rose from the broken glass.

“… as the Archer rises one will be born to generations of …,” the first figure said.

“… darkness and despair shall …,”

“… born to guide and love the one who will …,” the third continued.

Together, the figures concluded, “… destroy he whom his family serves.”

Dorcas backed away from the fountain, her fascination turned to horror. The spheres were not just lights, they were prophecies. No, she thought, they were oracles. The fountain was the famous oracle at Delphi. Or rather, it was a place of storage for the oracles.

“What the hell was that?” Sirius asked.

His voice snapped Dorcas out of her trance. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Did you … did you hear that?”

“Breaking glass and voices speaking Greek? Yeah, I did.”

Dorcas turned away, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. She had studied Divination more deeply than any other subject at Hogwarts. She had combed the Restricted Section of the library, absorbed Professor Almida’s lessons in ways that none of her classmates had, and even ventured into Knockturn Alley for some dubious objects and books. She knew that those oracles would have only leapt out of the fountain for the person they were made about. She had forced Sirius to touch the basin and now she was responsible for his future. She would have to think of someway to change it. Sirius had already had such a hard life. She couldn’t let anymore bad happen.

“Do you know why Delphi is famous?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t really pay attention in History of Magic.”

“No, Binns wouldn’t have taught it. We learned about it in NEWT Divination.”

“I didn’t take … Wait, Divination? You mean ….”

“You can’t see the fountain or the torchlight in the tunnel or the six archways or the ancient runes, can you?”

Sirius looked around again, as if looking for the tenth time would make something appear. “All I see is damp walls.”

Dorcas paused at each arch to read the symbols above it. She wished she had paid more attention to retaining knowledge rather than just getting good scores on tests. She knew Professor Vector had gone over ancient Greek runes before the OWL, but Dorcas had been so worried about Arithmancy, and so sure that she could learn ancient Greek on her own, that she had studied equations and conversions during the lecture.

“We should go this way,” she stated finally, pointing to her left. “I think it says ‘He who passes here passes unto knowledge.’ All the others refer to specific locations.”

“You think it says? How positive are you?”

She sighed deeply and ran her fingers through her hair. With a flick of her wand, the long tresses bound themselves in a ponytail.

“It’s about fifty-fifty. I never did well in ancient runes. I only know these because they’re Peloponnesian.”

“Hey! Your wand works!” Sirius exclaimed, not at all bothered by the runes anymore.

“Yes, my wand would work, since I am a Seer.”

“Well, let’s get this over with then.” He glanced around the cavern again with his brow furrowed. “I don’t like being unprotected.”

Dorcas walked through the archway. The rock formed a bowl-shaped path with tall spikes like groping digits rising high above the cave floor. For a moment, Dorcas was plunged into total darkness, and then the second antechamber appeared, bathed in dazzling pearly white light. A glittering river of oracles flowed between the cliff faces, and a narrow wooden bridge connected the two sides of the chamber.

Sirius stepped up behind her a moment later, massaging his forehead. “You could have guided me through, you know. I can’t see anything.”

Silently, she reached back and clasped his hand in hers. Sirius tightened his grip, and Dorcas began walking along the narrow path that zigzagged down the cliff face. Thin beams of moonlight entered the chamber through cracks in the high ceiling. It was just enough light for Sirius to notice the precariousness of the path they were on.

When they reached the river and the bridge, Dorcas turned around to face Sirius. He was gazing at the other side of the chamber with narrowed eyes, searching for some way across the chasm or even for a reason to cross it.

“There’s a bridge.”

Immediately his eyes flicked to the gaping expanse at their feet. He seemed much more reluctant to follow this time. Dorcas took both of his hands in her own and stepped backwards onto the bridge. Sirius blinked several times and shook his head.

“You’ve no idea how strange it is to look down and see nothing.”

Dorcas smiled kindly, trying not to focus on her own fear of approaching the opposite side of the oracle river with her back turned.

“I think I know why Dumbledore chose us to come to Greece,” she said.

He looked up, momentarily distracted. “Yeah, because he knew you’d see all of this, or at least suspected it.”

“Yes, but there’s more to it. He needed someone who knew about my ability and trusted me. It would have been pointless to send someone who wouldn’t walk across an invisible bridge just because I said it was there.”

“Someone impulsive too,” he grinned.

“Yeah, that helps. But there is one other reason.” Sirius arched his eyebrows, prompting an answer while glancing surreptitiously at the nothingness below his feet. “I needed to trust my companion as well.”

Their eyes met for the briefest moment before they stepped onto the other side of the underground canyon. In that instant, something unspoken passed between them, a kind of shared epiphany about the subconscious feelings and thoughts they had both been repressing until that exact moment. Dorcas averted her eyes, the discomfort of exposure unnerving her first.

“It’s this way,” she mumbled, reading the runes above a pentagonal doorway.

Sirius followed her through the seemingly solid rock wall. To him, the next chamber looked exactly as the first had: damp walls covered in moss and pale moonlight filtering through cracks in the ceiling.

To Dorcas, this room was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Tapestries of ancient Eastern myths lined the walls, the pungent smell of burning incense filled the air, and brilliantly colored fabrics draped every surface from the stone floor to the plush settee. Murky images danced in crystal balls and reflected onto the pearly white mural painted on the ceiling.

While Sirius glanced around curiously, Dorcas’s attention was riveted by the woman standing in the far corner of the room. The moonlight cast blue shadows across her aged face. Her black hair was knotted, and her protuberant eyes reminded Dorcas of a frightened owl.

“You can See.”

It wasn’t a question or even a statement of surprise. Dorcas knew it was a recitation of what Aradia had Seen long before she and Sirius had ever arrived at Delphi, perhaps before they had even been sent to Greece.

“Another Seer has not dared come here for many, many years. And you so young! You must be brave—or foolish—to wander into this Dark place. Why have you ventured so deep into my sanctuary?”

The old woman’s voice was gravely with age and lack of use. Her penetrating glare disconcerted Dorcas, but remembering that Dumbledore had sent her for a reason, she ignored the prickling on the back of her neck. When she answered the question, Sirius started, not knowing there was a third person in the room.

“We’ve been sent by Albus Dumbledore. You are Aradia, aren’t you?”

“My, my, my,” the witch chuckled, shuffling forward. She limped slightly, and hump from permanent stooping stood out predominantly. “You’re quite a piece of work, aren’t you, Dorcas Meadowes? A Seer who does not want to know, a Legilimens who does not want to invade, and an Occlumens who meddles in everybody else’s business without sorting out her own first.”

Dorcas tried to ignore the building irritation. She wasn’t used to someone reading her future and using it against her. She didn’t like it one bit. She was especially chagrined that Aradia had looked into her future so extensively as to have been able to piece together her personality.

“Dumbledore said we would know why we were sent when we found you. Do you have a message for him?”

Aradia smiled grimly. “You’re like the deer who wanders blindly to the river. You deserve what is coming to you, girl.”

Sirius watched Dorcas’s expression change from wonder to annoyance to fear without knowing why. He heard only one side of the conversation and could only guess at what Aradia was saying. At least, he hoped Dorcas was speaking to Aradia and not conversing with thin air.

“And what’s that?” Dorcas snapped reflexively.

“Death. And worse.”

For a moment, Dorcas could neither think nor move. She hadn’t expected an answer to a rhetorical question. Even if she had wanted an answer, she wouldn’t have expected that particular prediction made so casually. She swallowed thickly before speaking again.

“Do you have anything to say to Dumbledore?”

Aradia remained silent for a long moment. “I’ll play the same part in this war as in the last.”

The witch turned slowly, her old bones creaking as she hobbled away. Dorcas could only watch her leave in stunned silence. Surely Dumbledore hadn’t sent her and Sirius so far with so little guidance when he could have guessed Aradia’s answer. She made to ask the other witch to elaborate, but Aradia spoke first.

“He’s here,” she gasped, peering over her shoulder.

Dorcas felt her blood run cold. She knew who Aradia was referring to without having to ask. She had Seen him enter temple of Apollo through the cave, but she had hoped he wouldn’t arrive so soon. She turned towards Sirius, who was watching her closely. When he saw that the color had drained from her cheeks and the wild, panicked look in her eyes, he rushed forward.

“What is it?”

“Run.”

Without asking questions, Sirius made for the door. Before they had taken three steps, however, a dark shadow appeared in the pentagonal archway. Sirius stopped abruptly. Dorcas whimpered softly as Sirius stepped in front of her, shielding her from the stranger. She clutched the back of his robes and peered wide-eyed over his shoulder.

From the shadows stepped a wizard tall and thin with skin as pale as parchment and maliciously gleaming red eyes. The wizard whose name so many feared to speak approached silently, his wand clutched in one hand and a calculating look in his inhuman eyes.

“I’ve been looking for you, Dorcas.”

His high, cold voice sent chills up and down Dorcas’s spine. She was trembling with unsuppressed terror. She felt Sirius shuffle backwards, his usually calm façade all but destroyed. His fear only increased her own. Inside the temple, his wand didn’t work, which meant she was responsible for their defense. She didn’t think she could ever summon the courage to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The mere shadow of a sadistic grin twisted the Dark Lord’s mouth. “Sirius Black. I’ve recently met your brother.” Sirius stood up straighter, his jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed dangerously. “You’ll both spare yourselves much hardship if you join me now.”

“Never,” Sirius replied, his voice deadly cold.

“You stand between me and the weapon that can win me this war,” the Dark Lord said, raising his wand. “You might want to reconsider.”

“Death first!”

“No!” Dorcas cried.

An evil smirk curled the Dark Lord’s lips. “Don’t worry, Dorcas. I won’t kill your boyfriend … yet. Crucio!”

Sirius’s screams, magnified a hundred times, echoed off the cavern walls. He fell to the floor, his limbs bent in unnatural positions while he twitched and writhed under the curse.

“No! Stop it!” Dorcas screamed.

The Dark Lord lifted his wand, and Sirius’s screaming died away. Dorcas was trembling violently, and all rational thought had fled. She could no longer think clearly about escape or noble death. She wanted only to curl up and hide from the terror pervading her every fiber of being.

“Join me,” the Dark Lord commanded.

Her voice caught in her throat when she made to answer, and she could do nothing but stare at Sirius while he pushed himself slowly to his feet. When she looked at He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named again, she was startled to find his wand pointed at her heart.

“Don’t do it,” Sirius called. His voice sounded strained, but he stood up straight and refused to give into the pains of the Cruciatus Curse. “He’ll kill me even if you do.”

Dorcas’s eyes shifted between Sirius and the Dark Lord. She could not answer either of them, for the sheer terror that had seized her. Adrenaline surged through her paralyzed body and blood pounded in her ears. Everything seemed so distant, like she was viewing the scene through a long tunnel.

As darkness crept into the edges of her vision, a figure moved into the foreground, momentarily blocking her view of the Dark Lord, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn’t pay any mind to the newcomer. The wizened old witch raised her wand, but still the Dark Lord stared through her, demanding again that Dorcas join him. Next moment, he was thrown across the room by the force of Aradia’s spell.

Dorcas felt herself being ushered out of the room and vaguely heard Sirius urging her to move faster. She blinked furiously, but the dark edges of her vision would not go away. The wooden bridge over the river of oracles was just ahead. She moved past Sirius, grabbing his hand as she rushed towards the chasm.

Dorcas was violently jerked back into reality a moment later. Her vision cleared and her hearing returned to normal as her foot sank through the bridge. A moment too late, she realized that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had used magic inside the temple. The false bridge dispersed in a thousand tiny fragments, leaving nothing but the glittering lights of the oracles beneath her feet. She teetered on the edge of the chasm, one arm flailing wildly and her mouth forming a perfect O.

A thousand frantic prayers to gods she had never truly believed in consumed her thoughts. The rock beneath her feet crumbled and her heart jumped into her throat. This wasn’t how she had imagined her death. She was too young, too unprepared.

Her knee crashed against a sharp outcropping, tearing her trousers and slicing into her thigh. In that brief moment, when the momentum of falling ceased and pain exploded in her leg, a strong hand clasped around her forearm and she was hauled onto solid rock.

Dorcas spun around, threw her arms around Sirius’s neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. She let him lead her away from the edge, unaware that he was glancing nervously towards the pentagonal doorway.

The episode had been extremely bizarre from his perspective. He had watched Dorcas converse with an invisible woman, who apparently was on their side and had hexed Voldemort. The absurdity of it all was the least of his worries, however. At the most crucial moment, Dorcas had fallen to pieces and only she would be able to find a way out of Apollo’s temple.

“Dorcas, we have to go now. Look around. I need you to tell me where to go.”

“It’s no use,” she cried, pulling away. Tears were staining her cheeks, making her look even more terrified than she had a moment before. “He could have used Dark magic on anything!”

“We have to take our chances. Aradia can only hold him off so long.”

Dorcas wavered for a moment, glancing around nervously. She was caught between two options and both might result in her greatest fear. She could unknowingly lead herself and Sirius to their deaths or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would kill her after he’d used her for his evil purposes. She decided that if death was inevitable, then she was going to die on her own terms, not after a Dark wizard had broken and abused her.

“This way.”

She made for a narrow precipice that sloped along the cliff face and disappeared into the rock wall two hundred feet down. From there, she would have to trust her instincts more than her vision. Sirius followed behind her, keeping a tight grip on her hand. With every step, she tested the ground, praying that it was as solid as it looked.

Sighing in relief, Dorcas slipped through the archway. The tunnel was dim, but the brilliant light from the oracle river shone just enough for Dorcas to make out several runes on the wall. She traced them with her finger, not completely trusting her sight.

“I have no idea what—”

Sirius pressed his hand over her mouth. The instant she stopped talking, she heard disturbed pebbles causing the faintest scratching against the rock as they scattered over the edge of the precipice. Dorcas turned her head slowly, not daring to move her body or even breathe. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stood squarely in front of the entrance, surveying the rock closely.

This time, Dorcas’s mind did not freeze as it had just moments before. From the pensive look on the Dark Lord’s face, she knew he could not see the archway because he was not a Seer. If he suspected it was there, however, he would surely have some Dark magic to make it visible.

Just as the Dark Lord raised his wand, the bright red light of a powerful curse came flying towards the entrance. For one heart-stopping moment, Dorcas thought it was going to pass through the archway, but it ricocheted off the cliff, spraying the Dark Lord with fragments of rock. Once again distracted by Aradia’s spells, he turned away from the hidden entrance and raced down the precipice.

Dorcas exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging with relief. Sirius rested his head against the wall, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Listen, Dorcas,” he said a moment later, after catching his breath. “We have to go now, while Aradia has distracted Voldemort.”

She whimpered softly at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name. After facing him, she was even more frightened of the name than she had been before.

“You have to keep it together, all right? We can cross over the way we came if you can cast a strong enough Pontus Charm.”

She nodded slowly, looking away and blinking back the tears stinging her eyes. “I’m not like you, Sirius. I can’t face my greatest fear so easily.”

“Who said it’s easy?”

Dorcas looked up sharply. The truthful admission steeled her resolve, and she nodded shortly. She moved towards the archway, but stopped just before emerging onto the precipice.

“We could still die.”

Sirius nodded slowly, gauging her warily. “I’m not hiding here until I rot.”

The tiniest of grins crept onto her lips. “Neither am I. I’m only explaining now that I’ve decided to take my chances, I have to prepare for what might come.”

“And if the worst should happen?”

“I don’t want to have any regrets.”

With those words, Dorcas closed the distance between herself and Sirius. She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his. For a moment, Sirius didn’t respond, perhaps out of shock or revenge from all the times she’d done the same thing. When he did kiss her, Dorcas felt the passion in his kiss as she never had before. She wondered if it had always been there and she had ignored it, or if this was a development from their new friendship. They parted a moment later, the present danger preventing them from becoming lost in the kiss.

“Now let’s get the hell out of here,” Dorcas said, stepping through the archway.


Chapter 13 - The Art of Change

October Twilight
Chapter Thirteen
“The Art of Change"

June 2nd, 1974
4th Year

The invitation arrived at three o’clock in the afternoon on the Tuesday after the A.W.E sit-in had ended. Dorcas could scarcely believe what she was reading. She thought it had been pure luck and the eccentricity of Dumbledore and Sprout that had spared her punishment. Now, she was beginning to rethink that assessment. Professor Slughorn, Head of Slytherin House, had just invited her to a Slug Club dinner.

Annabel grinned appreciatively, but didn’t seem as enthusiastic about it as Dorcas was. She hadn’t joined the Association for Werewolf Equality and she wasn’t part of the Slug Club. Professor Slughorn often unknowingly (at least Dorcas hoped it was unknowingly) caused tension among the student body by picking favorites.

“Have fun,” was all Annabel said before heading into the Charms classroom.

Lily had been much happier for Dorcas. After dinner, they met up in the library for their usual study session. Lily told Dorcas all about the dinners, parties, and how Slughorn behaved towards his favorites while they checked Arithmancy equations and Rune translations.

“Anna’s not pleased,” Dorcas stated, crossing out her answer and rewriting the correct translation.

“Of course she’s not. She doesn’t like werewolves and you’re in the Slug Club now because you took a political stand on werewolf equality. She’ll get over it. We’re too good of friends to let some dinners and parties once a month come between us. I mean, if the Marauders can stay friends through it, we certainly can.”

“All right, then,” Dorcas frowned. “I’ll let you explain that to her, because she’s never had a problem with you being in the Slug Club.”

“That’s because I’m not her best friend. I’ll talk to her if you won’t, but I think she should hear that from you.”

“Hear what from whom?” Black asked, crashing onto the chair beside Dorcas.

The girl lifted her chin and turned away from him. Lily chuckled softly at his expense. He really couldn’t take a hint. Even after Dorcas had hexed him, he still thought their date had gone relatively well. Lily’s smile slipped off her face when Potter sat down next to her.

“Hey, Evans,” he greeted, messing up his hair and flashing her a roughish grin.

Black reached across the table and snatched the invitation from Slughorn. “Looks like Meadowes is going to be joining us at dinner tomorrow night.”

“Well done, Meadowes,” Potter said. “Always knew you had it in you.”

Dorcas arched one eyebrow skeptically. “Had what in me, exactly?”

“You know,” he answered, surveying Lily’s homework and tossing it onto the tabletop again. “Popularity.”

“Is that all you care about?” Lily demanded. “You’re pathetic, Potter.”

“Come on, Evans,” Black cajoled. “You know you enjoy the attention as much as we do. You’re just afraid to show it because none of your goody-two-shoes friends are in the Slug Club. Well, now Meadowes is, and you can finally join our side.”

Lily’s cheeks were splotched with pink and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Firstly, Black, don’t ever think that an invitation to join ‘your side,’ as you call it, is ever what I wanted. Secondly, some consider modesty a virtue. And lastly, if you ever accuse me of being afraid of anything again, I will personally make sure you’re terrified of even peeking out of your dormitory. Do you understand?”

Dorcas was hastily shoving her and Lily’s homework into her bag while her best friend lectured Black. She was torn between laughing at his affronted expression and trembling from nervous excitement. Lily and Amos Diggory were in the Slug Club and were wonderful people. Others, like Black and Potter, were not so nice. All of the Slug Club was popular, smart, and talented. Although she might not say it, Dorcas knew that she was intelligent and talented. Popular, she was not.

Before her impulsive speech in the Great Hall the previous week, most people had not known her name. Her scope of acquaintances ended with Hufflepuffs and the fourth-years. She spent nearly all her free time with Annabel, Lily, and Remus, and if none of them were around, she sat alone in the Hufflepuff Common Room or in the library reading or studying.

She didn’t know how she was going to handle being thrust into a room full of the most popular people at Hogwarts. For the next twenty-four hours, she fretted over how she should act, what she should say, where she would sit, and what she would wear. The nervous chatter of her own voice in her head drove her to distraction.

Twice she nearly severed the tentacles of the writhing Basebark root in Herbology, and the good favor she had earned from Professor Sprout was nearly depleted. Class with Professor Slughorn was the worst, however. He seemed to be watching her extra carefully, as if sizing her up to see if he had made the right decision. Her potion making skill had always been dubious, but with Slughorn checking her cauldron every five minutes, it all but disappeared. She managed to produce an acceptable Strengthening Solution that any half-wit with a self-stirring cauldron could have whipped up.

Finally, Wednesday night arrived. Annabel had disappeared earlier in the day, which annoyed Dorcas. She needed help deciding on her outfit. When she’d asked Lily about what the other girls wore, she had just rolled her eyes. Lily was like that, able to disregard what others thought about her. Dorcas wasn’t.

After pacing, cursing, and kicking her trunk in frustration, Dorcas decided on the new outfit her mother had bought her in Madam Malkin’s over Easter holiday, but she put her Hogwarts robe on over the clothes, in case everyone else was wearing school uniforms. At ten ‘til six, she left the Common Room and headed towards Professor Slughorn’s office for dinner.

Lily was waiting for her at the bust of Bernadette the Beautiful like she had promised. She rolled her eyes at Dorcas’s new clothes and freshly applied make-up. Lily hadn’t yet seen the need for all that junk. Lucky her, Dorcas thought, because it really was a pain.

Professor Slughorn’s office was decorated to look like a fancy French restaurant in Diagon Alley. House-elves in tea cozies hurried around the room carrying stacks of fine china plates, filling goblets from shining silver pitchers, and arranging gleaming platters of succulent food on the long rectangular table. A number of students were already sitting at the table and chatting comfortably with one another.

“Ah! Miss Meadowes, welcome to dinner! I’m so glad you could come. And Lily, of course, always a pleasure,” Slughorn said, rising from his seat.

He ushered the two girls to the other side of the table, chatting gaily the whole time. His round belly shook as he waddled across the room, gesturing to students and giving Dorcas unnecessary introductions.

“I know you two are such good friends, so I sat you together.”

Dorcas saw for the first time that each table setting had name cards. She picked up the thick parchment card, amazed at the intricate gold script. Dorcas Anstice Althea Meadowes; Fourth-year; Hufflepuff House. Professor Slughorn, or rather some house-elf, had gone to a lot of trouble to find out her middle names just to put them on a place card.

“And I put Sirius on your other side,” Slughorn finished, winking at Dorcas.

The card slipped from her fingers and she fumbled to catch it as it fell. Another hand closed around the delicate card just before it hit the floor. Dorcas looked up into the gray eyes of Sirius Black. She didn’t have to see the sly smirk on his lips to know some suggestive comment was forthcoming.

“I know I have that affect on some girls, but I expected more of you, Meadowes.”

Dorcas snatched the card away from him. As she sat down and put the card back in its place, she lamented that the corners were crushed and the perfect crease dented. It was such a trivial thing, but so beautiful too.

“Just ignore him, maybe they’ll leave us alone,” Lily muttered, glaring at Potter as he took his seat on Black’s other side.

Dinner was a relatively peaceful affair. The French cuisine was completely new to Dorcas, but she liked it well enough. Slughorn kept everyone’s attention focused on himself as he boasted about his former students who were now famous. When desert arrived, he turned to other matters, namely the students currently sitting at the table. He surveyed each face, as if trying to recall what they had done to merit an invitation. Some of the students had been in Slug Club since their first-year and their presence required no explanation, or so it seemed.

“Of course, of course. A simply fabulous last goal, even if it did mean Slytherin lost,” Slughorn said to Elijah Diggory. “Hufflepuff does have a spectacular team this year, between you and your brother.” The professor took a deep drink from his goblet. “But there’s more excitement in Hufflepuff House than just Quidditch, eh?”

He turned to Dorcas with inquisitive eyes. Her hand froze with a forkful of truffle halfway to her mouth. She laid the utensil down quickly and cleared her throat. Her eyes shifted from Slughorn to the other students to the tablecloth and back. She didn’t know what to say without repeating what she had already said in the Great Hall.

“It’s been ages since there has been a proper political movement among the student body,” Slughorn began. “The Minister of Magic herself wrote to Dumbledore for an explanation. Terrific, really, Miss Meadowes, absolutely wonderful. Are you considering a career in politics? Perhaps in the Magical Creature Liaison Department? I haven’t many contacts in that area, I must admit, but an old student of mine, Abbott Spencer (he’s a member of the Wizengamot now, you know), started there. He’ll be looking for another assistant in a few years, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Dorcas listened to all of his with her mouth hanging open. She wanted to shake her head or say that she did not want a career in politics, because there was entirely too much public speaking and she didn’t really see herself working for the Ministry, but no words would come out. The longer Slughorn kept talking, the more excited he became. For a moment, Dorcas thought he might love the sound of his own voice so much that he would forget to let her speak.

“Why the interest in werewolf equality specifically? Why not house-elves or trolls or goblins?”

Dorcas’s jaw moved soundlessly for several moments. Her brain refused to think of a reason that didn’t include ‘One of my best friends is a werewolf.’ Finally, she found the words to explain that she was interested in total magical equality, but werewolves had just happened to come up in class.

“How marvelous!” Slughorn exclaimed. “Total equality. What an absolute utopia! Now, shall we gather around the fire for a more comfortable conversation?”

Dorcas blinked a few times and glanced at Lily, who was trying very hard not to laugh.

“He’s like that. Don’t worry, he’s impressed. He wouldn’t have even commented if he wasn’t.”

“You’ll get used to it, Meadowes,” Potter assured her, moving past the two girls.

“Yeah, you’re one of us now,” Black added.

“I’m not one of you!”

The words had left her mouth before she could stop them. Black and Potter turned around. After her speech in the Great Hall, they were only mildly surprised to hear the normally demure Dorcas Meadowes raise her voice.

“I’ll never be an arrogant, pompous prat like the two of you. I don’t want the whole school fawning over me or running away when I raise my wand. Unlike you, I don’t enjoy egotistical power trips.”

“You’re popular now, Meadowes, whether you like it or not. You’re in the Slug Club now. Nothing can change that,” Potter responded, not taking any offense at her insults.

“You have no idea what I can change, Potter,” Dorcas said darkly.

When she saw that Potter was about to demand she elaborate, Lily grabbed her friend’s elbow and pulled her towards the door. Lily was scowling deeply the whole time she dragged Dorcas around the castle. Finally, she shoved her friend into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

“Why did you say that?” Lily shrieked.

The sorrowful weeping coming from the last stall ceased abruptly and the silvery form a chubby with girl glasses peered over the swinging door.

“Why don’t you just shout it out for the whole school to hear?” Lily continued, pacing in front of the sinks. “I know you don’t like them, and neither do I, but threatening them like that will only make them more curious. You really don’t want those two trying to find out your secrets, Dorcas, because they will get it out of you, no matter what it takes.”

“I don’t want to be in the Slug Club, Lily!” Dorcas whined. “I like having three really good friends and being able to sit alone in the library without half the school bothering me and going to lessons with Dumbledore every week and no one even noticing because they hardly know me. It’s hard enough keeping this secret when only a fourth of the school knows my name. How could I do it with the whole school worshiping me? I hate that they do it to Potter and Black, I don’t want anyone doing it to me.”

Lily leaned against the porcelain basin of the sink that was always dry (the tap hadn’t worked in “ages,” or so Myrtle said).

“You know, they are right about one thing. You can’t change what other people do, Dorcas. Whether you like it or not, you’re destined for popularity. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and compassionate. What’s not to love about that? It’s up to you what you do with that popularity.”

“But, Lily, I can change what people do. If I wanted to, I mean.”

Lily took a deep breath and tried to find the right words. “No, Dorcas, you can’t. You might think you can, but you can’t. Will you make me a promise?”

“Anything.”

“Never, under any circumstance, tell me anything about my future. I’m sure it won’t work, Dorcas. No matter what you See, you’ll never be able to fully understand until you get it into your head that you can’t change anything except your own thoughts and actions.”

“But, Lily, what about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? What if the Ministry can’t stop him? He’s after Muggle-borns.”

Lily’s lower lip trembled as she shook her head. “No, no exceptions. Ever. Promise me, Dorcas, you must.”

Dorcas slouched against the sink on the far end of the row. “You’ve wanted to make me do this for a long time, haven’t you?”

Lily nodded. “I only realized tonight how much I need you to promise me. You just threatened to change Black’s and Potter’s futures, Dorcas. That’s serious.”

“I didn’t mean it,” the other girl mumbled.

“I know you, Dorcas. You would go to any lengths to protect your friends and family, even that.”

“If that’s what you really want, Lily. I promise I won’t tell you anything about your future.”

Lily nodded slowly, not realizing that her best friend had intentionally made a promise with a loophole.

*~*~*

June, 1979

Rain splashed against the blank windows of the apartment complex towering over the empty London street. At the corner, a Muggle vehicle hummed loudly at the stoplight, and in the distance, a dog howled pitifully at the moon. A flash of lightening was accompanied by the low rumble of thunder and a flash of lightening illuminated the gray sky.

Inside the complex, a young woman wrapped in a blanket sat beside the window and gazed pensively at the rain drizzled on the glass. Her amber eyes were vacant and, judging from her expression, she was a million miles away from the stuffy sitting room littered with half empty bottles and used dishware.

“Dorcas?” a man’s groggy voice called.

Sirius appeared in the hallway, holding his wand aloft and shielding his eyes from the magical light that cut through the darkness of his drawing room. Dorcas didn’t turn when he called her name or stir when he crossed the room and eased onto the window seat beside her. She was wrapped in the duvet from his bed, her bare back and tousled hair a pleasant reminder of what had happened hours before.

“I don’t know if I should be more concerned that you’re not responding or that you couldn’t sleep after I was done with you.”

Dorcas started when Sirius touched her shoulder. She pulled the duvet tighter around her body as she turned to face him. He looked dead on his feet, his normally perfect hair messier than James’s and his gray eyes watering from the brilliant light of his wand tip. She was touched that he had come looking for her, presumably concerned about her absence.

“What was that?” she asked distractedly.

“Never mind,” he yawned. “You’d probably slap me for the impropriety of the comment anyway. Come back to bed. There are still a few hours before dawn.”

“I can’t sleep until I can stop thinking.”

She turned back towards the window. Silence fell between the couple, and the rain pounding on the roof three stories above filtered through the sleeping building. Sirius wrapped one arm around Dorcas’s shoulders. Her bare back connecting with his naked chest brought fresh memories of the passionate coupling of their new relationship, and Dorcas couldn’t suppress the pleasurable chill that passed up her spine.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

His warm breath danced along her skin and rustled stray hairs that tickled the back of her neck. Her eyes slipped closed, and she fought hard to remain focused.

“How we got here.”

“Well, I believe it involved a mad dash from the Temple of Apollo and a midnight flight home. Then you professed your undying desire for certain carnal pleasures I happened to be all too happy to accommodate.”

“That’s how it went, was it? I thought it involved a few hours of lengthy discussion and pleading and promise-making on your part.”

“The truth is probably somewhere in between.”

“Probably, but that’s not what I meant. I was thinking about last June, when we left Hogwarts. I remember being so furious at Lily for making me sit in a train cabin with you and James. I could barely contain my loathing of you.”

“Actually, I don’t think you contained it at all.”

“I tried.”

“And failed.”

Dorcas allowed herself a tiny smile. “I’m just trying to process this past year, I guess. So much has changed, and I don’t think things will ever be the same again.”

“Sure they will. When Voldemort is dead and the Wizarding world is at peace, things will get back to normal.”

She shuddered at the Dark Lord’s name. “You seem so sure, Sirius. How can things ever be normal when I’m an orphan, after I’ve learned that Dumbledore doesn’t trust me, now that Lily and Remus aren’t my best friends anymore?”

She leaned forward suddenly, and the separation of their bodies sent goose pimples spreading over their skin.

“Ever since I opened my mind to the Sight, I haven’t been able to block out the images.”

Sirius reached out convulsively to comfort her, but withdrew his hand, suddenly remembering what a simple touch could do to her mind. Dorcas pulled the duvet tighter around herself again and sank down into the fluffy warmth.

“I’ve seen things that will never leave me. Some of these things must be memories, but I could swear they’re premonitions. I can’t make sense of any of it, and I think I Saw … my--my own … death. And I’ve seen the inside of Azkaban, and I don’t know why or through whose eyes.”

Tears sprang to Dorcas’s eyes and clogged her throat. Her voice shook more the longer she talked. Heedless of the consequences, Sirius embraced her tightly.

“If I can’t make sense of what I’m Seeing, how can I change these terrible things?”

“It’s not up to you to change them,” Sirius returned immediately, almost automatically.

It was what Dumbledore and her father had always said, but Dorcas didn’t believe it anymore. The premonitions had begun so simply. It wasn’t difficult to keep a secret about a pop quiz or a crush. So much more was a stake now.

“Lives depend on it, Sirius.” Her eyes turned towards the window again. “I keep thinking that if I can figure out how I ended up here, then I’ll know where we’re all going. If somehow I can understand the path we’re on, I’ll be able to predict where these paths will lead.”

“Whatever we’re doing now, yes, those actions have consequences, but they’re not written in stone or in the stars. You have a very unpredictable … unscientific gift.”

“Then why has everything I’ve predicted come to pass?” she inquired coldly.

“Because you made it happen,” Sirius answered plainly. “We’re not puppets of the cosmos, Dorcas, we make our own destiny.”

Dorcas let Sirius lead her back to the bedroom. He fell back asleep quickly with one arm hooked around her waist. She lay stilly, her jumbled thoughts making sleep impossible.

Maybe Sirius was right and all her premonitions had come true because she made them so. In that case, she wasn’t seeing other peoples’ futures at all, but rather the consequences of herself meddling in their lives. If that was true, then Lily and James would die because of something she would do … or had done. Had she been wrong to try and change the future by telling Sirius? Was that what ultimately led to their deaths? And if that was true, then should she tell someone about the oracles at Delphi so they could look out for Sirius? Or would that decision make the prophecies come true?

Dorcas squeezed her eyes shut, holding back the tears of frustration prickling behind her eyes. She didn’t know what to do, and the people she used to turn to for advice viewed her ability with suspicion and doubt. Dumbledore would be livid that she couldn’t perform Occlumency anymore, Lily would scold her, and Remus, the one person who would listen and not judge, hadn’t been home since James’s and Lily’s wedding.

Her only confidant was Sirius. The possibility still seemed unfathomable to her. Only a year ago, she had taken every opportunity to deflate his overlarge ego. Now, she was … was she his girlfriend? She was uncomfortable with that title, knowing how Sirius had treated most of his girlfriends in the past. She preferred to think they were very, very good friends. There was trust and companionship, the basis of friendship, but not necessarily of a romantic relationship. That took something more. Something Dorcas wasn’t sure she was ready to admit feeling.

“Have you slept at all?”

Dorcas started, her eyes slipping back into focus. Sunlight was pouring in through the window above the headboard. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the sunrise.

“No.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and collected her clothes scattered around the room. “I have to go to the Ministry today and make some arrangements for Darius. I can’t believe it’s almost the end of June already.”

Sirius climbed out of bed, snatching his discarded robes off the floor. “When you’re done, owl me, all right? James and Lily invited everyone over tonight.”

Dorcas paused, on the verge of making an acidic comment. She knew Sirius would have told James about seeing Voldemort in Greece, and James would have told Lily. The cards seemed stacked against her, and she didn’t see any way of permanently patching her friendship with Lily.

“Are you sure that includes me?” she asked, pulling on her shoes.

“Of course it does. Why would Lily not invite her best friend?”

“I think, Sirius, that James is Lily’s best friend, and that she didn’t invite me because she suspects I’ve been put under the Imperius Curse and am going to kill you all tonight.”

“Don’t joke about that!” he hissed. “It’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

She grabbed her knapsack from the coat rack and slung it over her shoulder. It was much lighter now that she wasn’t lugging around textbooks.

“Dorcas—”

“I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

She kissed him lightly before heading out the door and racing down the steps.

The rain had stopped sometime in the night, and the only reminder of the storm was the humidity hanging in the air and the occasional wet patch of pavement. Dorcas was too disconcerted to bother with magical transportation. She needed some time to clear her head, so she continued walking through the crowded streets when she could have easily Apparated into the Ministry atrium.

Lately, she had felt like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. With her parents dead, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named searching for her, Order duties, the mistrust of her oldest and dearest friends, and Darius coming home, Dorcas felt like she had nowhere to turn for some reprieve. Sirius had an amazing ability to shrug off his troubles and have fun. She needed that from him, not the conversation he’d been trying to have.

At the moment, her biggest concern was getting everything in order for her to become Darius’s legal guardian and settling Angelica with her Muggle family. If she focused on her friends too much, she would become overwhelmed and no good to anyone. It was better that she be there for Darius than trying to fix all her troubles at once. She would think about her next problem when this one was settled.

The fog of worry still hadn’t cleared when Dorcas Apparated to Godric’s Hollow later that afternoon. Her visit to the Ministry had been less than comforting, to say the least. Barty Crouch’s assistant had interrogated Dorcas for hours about her daily activities and habits, because Mr. Crouch didn’t feel a nineteen-year-old was mature enough to finish raising her fourteen-year-old brother. She had made the grievous error of insulting Crouch and demanding to know why the Magical Law Enforcement Squad was involved anyway. She had the necessary documentation, but the process of attaining it had taken all day and put her in a foul disposition.

“How did it go at the Ministry?” Lily asked, leading the way through the atrium.

Dorcas sighed and shrugged. “As good as anything can go there lately.”

The two young women entered the drawing room a moment later, and Dorcas was struck by how different the Potter’s home looked now that Lily lived there. Colorful flowers in beautiful vases replaced Quidditch trophies; there were no dirty dishes or cans of fizzy drinks lying around; and the furniture had been reupholstered with dusty pink and white fabric.

Sirius was lounging on the sofa drinking butterbeer while Pettigrew was losing badly to James at a game of wizard’s chess. Dorcas paused, eyeing the short, chubby man warily. She could hardly believe she had considered telling him what she had heard about Sirius in Greece. He was a poor wizard, and she doubted he could make a significant change. Still, he was the only one left to tell with Remus constantly away. If she was going to try and change what she’d heard, Peter Pettigrew was her only hope.

Sirius put his arm around Dorcas’s shoulders and pulled her close to his body while the others discussed dinner plans. If Dorcas had heard the plans to magically char steaks instead of waiting an hour for them to cook on the grill, she would have joined Lily’s protests, but she was straining very hard to listen to what Sirius was whispering in her ear.

“They’re your friends, Dorcas, no matter what. No one here thinks you’re going to turn traitor and kill us all. We’re--they’re frightened because you don’t realize what you’re doing with the Sight.”

Dorcas eyes narrowed. “What? Did you talk to them about what I said this morning? And what do you mean, I don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve had the Sight all my life, I think I know what it can and cannot do.”

“Dorcas, the future isn’t written, and we all know that, but you don’t. You think you can change something you’ve Seen, but you haven’t Seen the whole future. You’ve only Seen the outcome of your own actions.”

Dorcas shook her head. “You don’t understand, Sirius. It’s easy to say that when you’re not the one having these premonitions! You don’t see people suffering and dying. You don’t have to live with that knowledge.”

“Actually, I do. You told me about--”

“Oi, Padfoot, are you going to help me with these steaks or just gnaw on the bones?”

Sirius glanced at Dorcas one last time before leaving the room. She remained frozen on the couch, his accusatory words piercing something deep inside of her. Yes, she had told Sirius about James’s and Lily’s deaths, but for a reason. She knew Sirius, and he would make sure they didn’t die. But who would protect Sirius?

That was her final thought as she rose from the couch and stepped into the hallway. Lily was busy carrying plates and utensils to the picnic table in the backyard. There was only one other person left inside, hovering around the refrigerator. Pettigrew was trying and failing to open the butterbeer bottle with the Muggle utensil Lily had in the drawer.

“It’s easier with your wand,” Dorcas said.

Pettigrew grinned sheepishly and tossed down the metal instrument. He made for the door without opening the bottle. Dorcas guessed he didn’t want her to see if he cast the charm incorrectly or used the wrong charm altogether. He had always been bad about that in school. Just as he reached the door and was about to go outside, Dorcas summoned all her courage, took the plunge, and made her decision.

“Hey, Peter? Can I talk to you for a minute?”


Chapter 14 - The Mind of Riddle

October Twilight
Chapter Fourteen
“The Mind of Riddle”

September 3rd, 1976
6th Year

Stellan Christiansen peered over the top of the attendance sheet at his new sixth-year students. They gazed back with curious expressions. Some of them took in his eccentric appearance silently while others debated about his foreign accent in hushed voices. Among two of the whispering students were the young men called James Potter and Sirius Black. The two girls behind them, Lily Evans and Dorcas Meadowes, poked and shushed them while motioning to the new Professor.

Stellan stood from his seat and walked around to the front of his desk. “Welcome to N.E.W.T level Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor Christiansen. You’ve had a — disjointed – education in this subject. However, I will not allow any of you to use this as an excuse for poor performance in my class. You’ve received an Outstanding on your O.W.L or you would not be here. Let us begin with a refresher course in what you have already learned and a brief overview of what to expect in this class. Who plans on becoming an Auror when you’re finished here at Hogwarts?”

Slowly, six students raised their hands. Professor Christiansen whistled. “That many of you, eh? You’re ready to charge into the fray and defeat some Dark wizards, are you? Well, let’s see if you have what it takes.” He scanned the room and finally pointed to James. “You, sir.”

“James Potter, sir.”

“Mr. Potter, please demonstrate the Patronus Charm.”

With a swagger and a smirk, Potter stepped into the aisle between the desks and cast the Charm. A few of the sillier girls in the back of the room cooed at the shining silver stag. Lily only rolled her eyes, and Dorcas stifled a laugh.

“Very good, very good. That is a strong Patronus, very strong.” Potter exchanged an arrogant smirk with Sirius. “But not strong enough, Mr. Potter.” The young man’s smile fell. “Professor McGonagall tells me you’re top in her class. Do not think that because you’re better at the more difficult subject of Transfiguration that you do not need to perfect your Charms. Your homework will be to master the first twenty Charms in Advanced Defensive Magic and perform them in front of the class next Monday for critiquing and advice from your classmates.”

Potter looked thoroughly put out, but Lily and Dorcas were giddy with self-righteous humor. Finally they had a professor who would put Potter in his place.

“You there,” Professor Christiansen said, moving on.

“Annabel Knight, sir.”

“Miss Knight, tell me the uses and incantation of the Dark Mark, and what you would do, as an Auror, if you saw the Dark Mark above the home of a wizarding family.”

“The Dark Mark is used to signal that Death Eaters have been to a home and either killed, tortured, or kidnapped one or more members of the family who lived there. The incantation is ….” Annabel hesitated for a moment. She dropped her voice to a whisper, “Morsmordre.”

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” the professor asked.

“Morsmordre,” she repeated, a bit louder.

“I still didn’t catch that.”

“Morsmordre.”

“I’m an old man, Miss Knight. You’re insulting me with this whispering.”

“Morsmordre!” Annabel shouted.

She looked pale and was shaking slightly. Professor Christiansen watched her closely, his frown deepening as she squirmed under his intense gaze. Apparently, he decided not to make her answer the second part of the question.

“I would like you, Miss Knight, to write fifteen inches on why you want to become an Auror, due tomorrow.” He turned away from the girl, looking for another student to call on. “You.”

“Sirius Black, sir.”

“Mr. Black. Please repel the spell that I am going to cast on you.”

Black stepped into the aisle with this wand raised. His fingers twitched around the wood the longer Professor Christiansen did nothing. Without speaking, the professor flicked his wand and a jet of orange light flew at Black.

“Protego!” Black called.

The spell bounced off the shield, the professor ducked to miss it, and a portrait on the wall howled in pain as it burst into flame. Calmly, the professor extinguished the fire.

“Very good, Mr. Black. You will write twelve inches on the theory of nonverbal spells, due at the start of next class. You,” he said, pointing to another student.

“Dorcas Meadowes, professor.”

“Miss Meadowes, I am new to your country. I’m visiting from Denmark because my old friend Dumbledore requested it of me. I’ve heard a rather confusing term used a lot. Perhaps you could clarify for me?”

“Certainly, sir,” Dorcas smiled, sitting up straighter.

“Who is … You-Know-Who?”

Dorcas’s confident smile vanished. Her jaw opened and closed several times without any words coming out. She glanced sidelong at Lily, who wasn’t at all frightened of saying the Dark Lord’s name. Potter and Black were peering over their shoulders, waiting for her to answer.

“He’s the Dark Lord, sir,” she stammered.

“Ah, I see. Would this be Grindewald? Ducellini? Skasgard? Wlasyllsaw?”

Dorcas’s discomfort increased with each Dark wizard he named. She swallowed thickly as she tried desperately to find a way not to say the Dark Lord’s name.

“You-Know-Who,” she began, “is the Dark wizard who is, at this moment, alive and powerful in Britain.”

“So there is only one Dark wizard in Britain? Well, you’re very fortunate. We have a whole army of them in Denmark. How peaceful Britain must be!”

The professor paused, waiting to see if Dorcas would say the name or not. She tightened her jaw resolutely, but did not meet the professor’s gaze.

“You, Miss Meadowes, will write sixteen inches on what it means to be brave, including how courage and the traits of Hufflepuff House compliment each other.” Seeing that Potter and Black were nudging and grinning at one another, Professor Christiansen leaned down and looked into their faces. “For I assure you, Gryffindors do not have a monopoly on bravery. And if by some stroke of unhappy circumstance they do, God save us all.”

The class had become so silent that the trees outside the window could be heard swaying and groaning in the mild autumn wind.

“Words are not everything,” the professor continued, “Aurors who stand around speaking will soon be found lying down dead. Let’s see who does better in a duel: the wizard who can block a spell when he knows it is coming or the witch who will not say a certain name. Mr. Black, Miss Meadowes, up you get.”

Dorcas and Sirius walked to the front of the room and turned to face one another. They bowed and assumed the beginning positions for dueling.

Dorcas knew she could never beat Black in a fair fight. She could cast powerful and debilitating defensive spells, but her reflexes were nowhere near as good as his. If he knew they were coming, he would be able to block and duck every spell she sent his way. Worse still, she wasn’t fast enough to dodge his spells.

She did have one major advantage, however. She could read imminent thoughts. She hoped that Professor Christiansen wasn’t a Legilimens, or if he was, wouldn’t tell Dumbledore what she was about to do. She focused on the image of the blocked door that was the symbol of her Occlumency shield. She imagined it opening, and next moment, when she looked into Black’s eyes, she knew that he was planning to use the Stinging Spell first.

“Begin!” Christiansen yelled.

Black hadn’t so much as uttered the first syllable of the incantation when Dorcas shot a Stinging Spell his way and immediately cast the Shield Charm. Black stumbled backwards, completely surprised that Dorcas had struck so quickly. They had never dueled before, being in different classes, but they had hexed one another in the corridors plenty of times.

“Re—,” Black began.

Prepared for the hex, Dorcas calmly flicked her wand and cast the Trip Jinx. The duel went on in that way. Black barely began saying the incantation when Dorcas hexed or jinxed him, then either blocked the spell or ducked out of the way.

Black was getting more and more infuriated. He had yet to hit Dorcas with a single spell, but he was getting pummeled. Dorcas was merrily jinxing him, even glancing at Annabel and Lily occasionally, who were laughing so hard they were crying. Dorcas’s smile faltered when she saw Professor Christiansen’s face. His eyes were dark and the corners of his lips pulled down, creasing his already wrinkled skin.

In the time it took for Dorcas to realize that this professor was much cleverer than their former teachers, Black had seized the opportunity and sent a crippling Striking Hex in her direction. Dorcas doubled over, clutching her side and gasping for breath. She vaguely heard Professor Christiansen’s rumbling voice end the duel and felt someone lifting her up.

“I hope you’re happy, Black! You beat up a girl. How manly,” Lily exclaimed scathingly.

“She wants to be an Auror! What does she expect?” Potter shouted.

In a moment, the whole class had erupted in chaos. The girls were shouting at the boys about civility, the girls were shouting at the girls about equality, and the boys were shouting at the boys about propriety. In the middle of it all, Professor Christiansen had picked up his briefcase and left the room, whistling a peppy Danish tune as he shut the door.

“You had it coming, you know.”

Dorcas looked up, surprised to see Black was helping her to her feet. She shoved him away roughly, glaring fiercely at him. She could breathe now, but her side would likely be bruised for weeks.

“I’ll remember that the next time you jinx a little second-year just because you think it’s funny,” she replied hotly.

“We were dueling, Meadowes! You used your strengths, and I used mine.”

Dorcas’s head snapped in his direction. “What do you mean, I used my strengths?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

Before Dorcas could demand to know exactly what he was referring to, the door to the classroom flew open. Professor McGonagall took in the sight of screaming students, some of whom were hexing each other or Muggle dueling.

“Why, I never—Not in all my years—What is the meaning—and three prefects in the class, too! You should be ashamed of yourselves!” The Transfiguration professor glared around the room. “But—But where is Professor Christiansen?”

“I think he went to his office when we began fighting, ma’am,” Annabel answered.

McGonagall’s cheeks turned pink and she stormed out of the room. Some of the students nearer the door later swore that they heard her say, “Bleeding old codgers! As if Albus wasn’t enough to handle!”

“Let’s go before she remembers to punish us,” Potter said, grabbing Black and heading for the door.

Lily and Annabel joined Dorcas near the professor’s desk.

“You are all right, aren’t you?” Annabel asked.

Dorcas wondered how to answer that. Physically, she was fine. But Black had implied that he knew she was a Legilimens. If that was true, she could be in a great deal of trouble if he ever told Dumbledore. She would just have to remind Black that she had some dirt on him too.

*~*~*

July 30th, 1979

Summer sunsets were usually among Dorcas’s favorite things to watch, but not this year. The flaming sun no longer looked majestic as it descended below the horizon. Through the dementors’ mist, the brilliant orange rays looked faint and murky. The perpetual chill in the air and constant reminder of the hooded creatures caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. A shudder passed up her spine, and Sirius pulled her closer to his body.

“We should go inside anyway,” he suggested, glancing around at the backyard. “Dinner is probably ready.”

Like his father, James had taken extra precautions to ensure his family’s security. The high garden wall kept out Muggle intruders, but wards had been placed all around the property as well. Magical sensory detectors were placed every few feet apart. In addition to all the charms and spells placed on the Potter’s home, Lily had hired men to install a Muggle security system. At first, Sirius had thought it was wonderfully funny to set off the alarms. That is, until Lily jinxed him and Muggle law enforcers arrived to investigate the disturbance.

He was still nursing a sore back from the jinxes, but he didn’t really mind it so much. The utter impracticality of sirens and flashing lights had made Dorcas laugh until she cried. She hadn’t so much as grinned in the last three weeks. Now that Darius was staying with her, she had the added responsibility of taking care of him. She was trying her hardest to stay strong for him, but Sirius could see the cracks forming. Any more stress, and she would likely break.

“I’ll have to leave earlier tonight than usual to get Angelica home,” she stated, entering the kitchen.

“I’ll Apparate with you … just to make sure.”

Dorcas didn’t object or declare that she could take care of herself. In the past week, the unnatural mist had spread over London. Every waking moment, Dorcas struggled to keep the negative memories at bay. When she slept she had terrible nightmares about her family’s deaths and the gleaming red eyes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She no longer maintained any pretense of courage. She had to stay alive for Darius, and if that meant allowing Sirius to Apparate everywhere with her, then she was willing to do that for her younger brother.

Plates piled with food were floating from the kitchen to the table in the dining room. Sirius ducked underneath the charmed dishes and took the seat next to Darius while Dorcas went to help Lily with the finishing touches. Angelica’s blonde head appeared from below the counter as she hefted a pot roast out of the oven.

Angelica had begged Dorcas to let her spend the day in the wizarding world. She had grown up surrounded by magic, and suddenly living with her Muggle aunt and uncle was driving her crazy. Even still, Dorcas’s cousin hadn’t complained once that Lily strictly enforced the underage wizardry laws in her house. She gladly helped the Potter’s house-elf wherever she could.

It had become a routine to meet for dinner at Godric’s Hollow or Holly Falls. No one wanted to be alone for too long, and dinner was a good excuse for being together for most of the night. That night, only Lily, Sirius, Dorcas, and Darius were free for dinner. Remus had gone back to Scotland again, James was watching suspected Death Eaters, and Pete was standing guard in Hogsmeade. Nights when so many of their friends were out was especially tense. Every week more people died and disappeared. The possibility of a loved one being next was never far out of anyone’s minds.

The Order had had a meeting two weeks prior to give their reports. The pattern had become clear to them all, although no one said it aloud. The Order of the Phoenix was being picked off one-by-one. The latest causalities were Gideon and Fabian Prewett. At the funeral, Dorcas had watched from across the room as their older sister Molly cried over their coffins. She was the last surviving Prewett.

She glanced sadly at Angelica. The girl knew what it was like to lose her parents and siblings in one moment. Dorcas wondered when Darius would be the last Meadowes. She knew her number would be up sooner or later. She was a priority to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and she had resolved to die fighting rather than allow the Dark Lord to kill hundreds of others with her Sight.

She sat across the table from her brother, watching him chat with Sirius. Sometimes she swore they were on the same maturity level. Both of their mouths were stuffed full of food, but they continued talking about Quidditch and racing brooms. She saw so much of her father in Darius’s face, but not in his personality. He had to know how much danger his sister was in, but he never showed it. A sudden surge of envy rose up in her. Everyone had found a release for their frustration and fear except for her. Sirius could make even the direst situation humorous, Lily always found a speck of hope in the darkest times, and Darius could let go of the things he couldn’t change, but not Dorcas.

“The World Cup will go on with or without the British teams,” Darius speculated. “Without our teams, I think it’ll be New Zealand and Chile.”

Sirius shook his head vigorously. “Chile? No, I think Finland has it next year. They beat Tibet by 400 points last—”

“Must we always talk about Quidditch?” Lily asked, sighing deeply.

“Yes,” Sirius and Darius answered immediately.

Lily smiled despite herself, but Dorcas rose from the table, staring at the antique spindle-legged table beside the door. The Dark detectors James had placed among the pictures were whizzing and spinning, and the largest one was emitting a faint hissing sound. The other two adults sprang from the table with their wands already out.

“Darius, Angelica! Keep hidden as long as possible!” Dorcas ordered.

“What!? No, I’m a Gryffindor! Gryffindors don’t hide!”

“Yes, they do,” Lily countered, rushing back into the room. “When there are nearly twenty Death Eaters tearing the town apart and a third-year student in that town, you’d better believe someone is going to hide with the child.”

“I’m not a child,” Angelica protested, but her voice shook as she said it.

“Under this,” Sirius said, holding out James’s Invisibility Cloak. Whenever Darius and Angelica came over, James always left it behind and borrowed one of Moody’s.

“Wands ready, but don’t use them unless you have to. Hide under the stairs and don’t come out until one of us comes to get you,” Dorcas finished, shoving them into the cupboard beneath the staircase.

Angelica grabbed her cousin’s hand. “What are you going to do?”

“We’re going to go help the Muggles. Stay with Darius. We’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

“We’ll be here until Judgment Day,” Darius muttered, as he pulled the cloak over himself and shut the door.

Sirius and Lily had already disabled the Dark detectors by the time Dorcas entered the drawing room. Two bright Patronuses were flying through the night sky, dodging the Dark Marks springing up over Muggle homes.

“The pattern is too random and they’re staying in a tight formation,” Sirius observed. “They’re coming here.”

“Then we’ll draw them away from the house until more of the Order arrives,” Lily said. She turned towards Dorcas. “Maybe you should stay—”

“No. I’m not letting you two duel twenty Death Eaters alone. If it’s tonight, then it’s tonight.”

Lily fell silent, knowing what Dorcas was referring to. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been after Dorcas since May. It was only a matter of time before he sent his servants to get what he wanted.

Dorcas and Sirius looked at one another silently for a long moment. Other couples, those who were willing to admit they’d fallen for their former nemesis—couples like Lily and James—would have kissed, in case it was the last time they ever saw each other. But Sirius and Dorcas weren’t like those couples. Sirius would never admit defeat before a fight, and Dorcas couldn’t stand anymore good-byes. Without words, they left the house and plunged into the duel.

The town that had once looked like a greeting card now looked like a battlefield. Houses were burning, fences had been reduced to splinters, people were screaming, and the dull green glow of the Dark Marks cast unnatural light on the narrow streets. The hooded and masked Death Eaters marching down the street quickened their pace when they saw the three Order members. A few stayed behind to torture and kill Muggles, but over three-fourths rushed at the witches and wizard.

For a moment, Dorcas thought that the world had slowed down. She could see everything clearly: the stars shining beyond the Dark Marks, the scuttle of dirt beneath her shoes, the soft wind picking up her stray hairs, and the presence of her friends on both sides. Suddenly, the clarity was violently interrupted as a dozen Killing Curses came rushing around them.

As Dorcas ducked, instinct kicked in, and her mind opened to the magic in the air. She knew exactly what curses were being cast in her direction. She hurled jinxes and hexes with all her power between dodging the curses being cast at her. She was vaguely aware that none of the Death Eaters were trying to kill her, but the flashes of green light and rushing sound that accompanied them meant that Lily and Sirius were not fighting such equal battles.

Dorcas turned sharply and blocked the hex the smallest of the Death Eaters had sent at her. She knew intuitively that there was a woman behind the mask and that she was a Legilimens. Part of Dorcas was terrified of dueling this woman, but the other part was thankful for an even fight. For once, she felt that she wasn’t wasting the ability she’d worked so hard to learn.

The two women dueled silently. The sounds of Muggles screaming, Killing Curses rushing, and the creaking of wood beneath magical fires faded away. Round and round they circled. The curses they used were part of the physical battle, but they were struggling mentally also to see who had the stronger mind and better Legilimency skill. Dorcas caught a glimpse of the Death Eater’s next move.

She finally understood why the other woman was fighting defensively instead of the usual impulsive, aggressive manner of the Death Eaters. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had told them that Dorcas was very valuable and possessed a great skill, but he had not told them what she could do.

It was dangerous, but Dorcas could think of no other way to win. She focused all her concentration, willingly herself to See. As if in slow motion, a shadow of the Death Eater in front of her began to move. Her wrist flicked … red flame shot towards Dorcas … Time began to move more quickly and the shadow became more solid. She kept her physical eyes squarely on her opponent, but her mental Eye watched the future unfold.

To an inexperienced dueler, the double vision would have been disastrous, but for Dorcas, it became much easier. She took the offensive, no longer waiting for the Death Eater to strike first.

“Fenia!” she thought.

The woman reeled in shock, not having seen that jinx coming. She stumbled, but managed to stay on her feet. Dorcas pulled her wand high over her head and brought it down sharply. Again, the woman was caught off guard. A glowing blue ball of light sped towards Dorcas, but she had Seen that already and wordlessly cast the countercurse. The two spells connected in mid-air and blue sparks fell to the pavement.

“Acucorpus!” Dorcas thought.

Out of nowhere, something hard slammed into the side of Dorcas’s head. She lost her footing and collapsed on the street. When she glanced up, the double vision was gone. She saw triple of the same image. A Muggle man was shaking a rubber mallet at the woman Death Eater. The man must have thought all the magicians were evil and, in panic and rage, charged through the duel hitting anyone who he could get close to.

“Avada Kedavra!” the woman cried, without a second hesitation.

Dorcas scrambled to her feet, but she had already lost the advantage. The Death Eater silently cast the Impediment Jinx on her and called to four of her companions to hurry. A hundred thoughts swirled through Dorcas’s mind in the thirty seconds it took the Death Eaters to reach her.

She was captured and about to be taken to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named … She hadn’t died in the duel like she had sworn to herself she would … She didn’t know if Sirius and Lily were alive … Where were the other Order members? … How many Muggles had died so that the Death Eaters could capture her? … Were Darius and Angelica all right? … Was this is the end of Dorcas Meadowes as her friends knew her? … If she returned, would her mind be clouded by the Imperius Curse? …

“Good night, love,” said a man with a gruff voice as he raised his wand.

“Sirius!” Dorcas cried, suddenly finding her voice. His name came out more slowly than she had meant it to because of the Impediment Jinx. Somewhere behind her, she heard him yelling something, but she never found out what.

“Somnia!” the Death Eater growled, flicking his wand at her.

Her eyelids slipped closed, her legs felt like jelly, and the world went black.

She didn’t know how many hours had passed when the spell was lifted. Her eyes had snapped open, but everything around her was pitch black. It was impossible to see the walls in the dark, but Dorcas had the feeling that she was in a very small space. The mold in the air stung her eyes, and the stone floor she had been laying on was damp.

She barely had time to orientate herself when two Death Eaters grabbed her by the elbows and dragged her out of the tiny room. A surge of panic welled up in her, and she tried desperately to fight back, but her hands and feet had been magically bound. One of the Death Eaters laughed cruelly as she floundered around, but the other remained utterly silent.

Her heart began beating rapidly and adrenaline coursed through her veins, triggering her reflexes to fight or run. She was unable to do either. The excess endorphins were making her head spin and vision blur and blood pound in ears. She knew what was about to happen. She was being taken to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

In a few moments, she would find out what she was truly made of. She would refuse to join him and die or suffer torture; or fear would overtake her and she would break. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she blinked them back. Years of lessons with Dumbledore came back to her.

She took a deep breath, and for one moment only, let all of her fear and uncertainty wash over her. Then, she pictured the sphinx that symbolized her Occlumency defense. She was no match for the Dark Lord, but she had made a promise to herself to go down fighting, and that held true for mental duels as much as for physical ones. She hadn’t used Occlumency since the incident in Greece, and it felt good to shut away the negative emotions and memories.

The Death Eaters unceremoniously dropped her on the floor of a dimly lit chamber that almost resembled a drawing room. A dying fire smoldered in a hearth and one chair was placed beside the fireplace. On the far side of the room, a dusty crystal chandelier glinted in the dull light.

Dorcas cringed as her knees hit the bare wood floor. The rustling of cloaks and creaking of floorboards as the Death Eaters moved ceased abruptly. Dorcas also froze, feeling the penetrating gaze on the back of her head.

“Dorcas Meadowes,” said a high, cold voice, “how accommodating for you to bow even before I enter the room.”

She wanted to jump to her feet and defy him, but she was unable to move her legs. As the Dark Lord moved around her, his cloak grazed her bare arm and chills raced up and down her spine. Already she felt her resolve shaking. She stared hard at the ground, refusing to look into the glowing red eyes and snakelike face.

“You left too quickly last time, Dorcas. I didn’t have a chance to explain my proposal.”

Dorcas didn’t trust herself to speak, although she thought of ten different defiant remarks. She knew her voice would shake, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would take advantage of her fear.

“You have an incredible gift, Dorcas. Alas, it is a magical ability that cannot be learned. I have tried, of course I have tried, but it is impossible. True Seers are so rare, and now that I’ve found one, I cannot let the opportunity pass me by.” He paused for a moment, but Dorcas didn’t look up. In a calculating voice, he continued. “When my loyal servant Severus—”

Dorcas couldn’t help herself. The jolt of hearing that murderer’s name shook her to her very core. She glanced up, hoping to see the Dark Lord motioning to one of the Death Eaters in the room so that she could take her revenge. It never occurred to her that her wand was missing or that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would never allow her to move. But she never had the chance to find out if the Dark Lord had gestured at all. The moment her eyes left the ground, he swooped from his chair and pierced her gaze with his cruel red eyes.

Dorcas cried out in alarm and pain. He was probing her mind with such vigor as Dumbledore had never done, even when pushing her to her limits. She tried to avert her eyes or move away from him, but she was rooted to the spot. Images of memories and premonitions swam before her eyes and the room around her disappeared. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named encountered the Occlumency sphinx, he crushed it like an annoying insect.

Dorcas vaguely realized that she was lying on her back, screaming and shuddering in pain. Without her Occlumency defenses, and with such an aggressive assault on her mind, she couldn’t hold out much longer. She knew what the Dark Lord wanted: an expression of cooperation and a demonstration. Hating herself for it, but panic and pain seeming to give her no other option, she gave him what he wanted.

She tuned into the magic in the air and hazy images began rushing into her mind. That was when she realized, with horror and revulsion, that the Dark Lord was touching her. She was Seeing his future, and through Legilimency, so was he.

The Hog’s Head pub … a locked door … a scar like a lightening bolt …

“Tell me what it means!” the Dark Lord roared, twisting her arm painfully. “Interpret for me!”

The mental barrage overwhelmed her strength. The words left her throat before she could stop them. “Beware the half-blood boy!”

As suddenly as it had begun, the pain ceased. The Dark Lord rose to his feet and resumed his position in the chair beside the fire. Dorcas lay panting on the floor. Her head pounded mercilessly, and the coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth. She couldn’t move for physical exhaustion, and all she could think of was that poor child whose future she had undeniably altered.

“I think that was more effective than the Cruciatus Curse,” the Dark Lord was saying. The Death Eaters cackled appreciatively. “Now that you are a traitor, Dorcas, perhaps you will consider my offer. You will join me, willingly or not. Admittedly, I would prefer you come to my side of your own accord. It would be so much more gratifying.”

Dorcas pushed herself to her knees. Her entire body was shaking with the effort to move, but she was determined to look at Voldemort when she answered. She had done what she swore never to do. She had nothing left to lose, except her life, and she felt that she deserved death anyway. She looked directly into his red eyes.

“Death first.”

She spat a mixture of saliva and blood onto his polished black shoes. He reeled back and raised his wand, but lowered it after a long moment. With an evil sneer, he approached the young woman.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Dorcas. I will graciously allow you to leave this place alive, without performing the Imperius Curse. You will come back here within the week and submit yourself for the burning of the Dark Mark onto your forearm. If you do not, I shall demonstrate to you how important you are to me until you do return freely.”

“Severus, Bella, take her back to Godric’s Hollow. I wonder, Dorcas, how will the Order react when they find out you’ve been with me? I doubt they will believe you have not been put under the Imperius Curse.”

His lips twisted into a vicious smile as he flicked his wand. Once again, the world went black and Dorcas knew no more.


Chapter 15 - Illustrations of Importance

October Twilight
Chapter Fifteen
“Illustrations of Importance”

October 31st, 1973
3rd Year

Muffled footsteps echoed against the high, bare walls of Hogwarts Library as Dorcas rushed along the thick blue carpet laid between the bookshelves. At her desk, the librarian stiffened and scanned the room with her beady eyes. When she spotted the young Hufflepuff with an armload of books, her expression softened and became indulgent.

Dorcas hurried past the librarian’s desk, not wanting to risk eye contact with the woman. Although Madam Pince had a soft spot for the especially studious, her obsessive goal to protect each and every book in the library at the expense of the students reading them made Dorcas wary.

Bright orange rays of the setting sun shot through the stained glass window at the end of the corridor, forming colorful patterns across the study tables and illuminating the dust motes floating languidly through the stuffy library. A lone figure hunched over a table in the corner, diligently scanning the pages of a large textbook and making notes on a crisp sheet of parchment.

Dorcas had watched her fellow classmate almost daily since their arrival at Hogwarts two years previous. Remus Lupin was polite and studious, unlike his best friends who were smart, but arrogant. Something about him had drawn her attention. Whether it was the mysterious scars on his face or the way he averted his gaze when Sirius and James tortured a student who had annoyed them, Dorcas couldn’t be sure. She only knew that this boy had captured her attention, and she was unable to forget about him.

Two years later, Dorcas had found out something else about the boy, and her fascination had grown. That knowledge had strengthened her resolve to find out even more about him. Recently, she had discovered a new magical ability. Well, she’d always had the talent, but hadn’t known what it was. Now that Professor Dumbledore had explained it to her, she was able to control it and focus it. She had done so with Remus.

The opportunity to get to know him better had finally presented itself. That was the reason Dorcas was skipping the Halloween Feast. Remus had missed Ancient Runes class earlier in the week, and Professor Vector had assigned a foot-long essay on non-magical Sumerian runes and given them a vocabulary list to memorize. Dorcas had scanned the Gryffindor table five times to make sure Remus wasn’t there, then she had left the Great Hall before the first course had even started. With Ancient Runes class first thing in the morning, Remus was sure to be finishing his homework.

Dorcas approached the table more slowly than she had walked through the library. Remus didn’t glance up from his homework until her shadow fell across his book. She shifted the armload of books and hitched a smile onto her lips.

“I’m Dorcas Meadowes. We’re in Study of Ancient Runes together,” she said, matter-of-factly.

The corners of Remus’s lips twitched slightly as she said all of his. “I know,” he answered.

Dorcas cocked her head to the side, as if this were the most perplexing answer she’d ever received. Remus felt his cheeks grow hot under her gaze. He averted his eyes, focusing on the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of her pretty face. He would never admit that he’d spent most of the first Ancient Runes and Arithmancy lessons staring at Dorcas instead of taking notes.

The way she twirled her dark hair around her fingers when she thought the teacher was oversimplifying a subject and how she pouted ever-so-slightly when she didn’t understand something had been etched into his mind. If he were bold like James or suave like Sirius, he would have asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him.

“Well,” Dorcas continued, choosing to ignore the awkward moment. “I noticed that you missed class on Tuesday, and I thought you might like the notes, because Professor Vector hinted that there will be a quiz tomorrow.”

Remus stared at her for a few moments, his adolescent mind buzzing with many off topic thoughts. Her words competed for attention with the gloss on her pink lips. She was pretty and intelligence, but she had noticed that he was missing from class. She was skipping the Halloween Feast to give him notes. He wondered why someone like Dorcas would be that interested in him. That line of thinking led to a dangerous conclusion that Remus wasn’t prepared to make. He blinked a few times to clear his mind, suddenly noticing the small frown tugging at Dorcas’s lips. He realized that he had been silent for several moments.

“Umm … yeah, I do need the notes … thanks.”

Dorcas slid into the chair opposite him and rummaged through her bag, pulling out rolls of parchment as she shifted through the mass of notes and books crammed into it.

“Here you are.” She pushed three scrolls across the tabletop.

As Remus examined the notes, his eyebrows rose slightly. She had copied down the usual notes Professor Vector gave in neat, flowing, color-coded script, but had added diagrams and side comments from the textbook. She even had a legend in the upper right-hand corner denoting which notes came from the text and which from Professor Vector by the use of stars and dashes.

“Thanks,” he said, truly meaning it. “You must have copied down the entire lecture verbatim and outlined the whole chapter.”

“I did,” she admitted, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, “and you’re welcome. Do you need me to explain anything? Professor Sprout says you truly know the subject when you can teach it. It would be good practice for the quiz.”

Remus glanced between the notes and Dorcas. He really didn’t think he would need help as long as he had her notes, but she seemed eager to help him study. He wondered about her intentions again. She was too pretty to be interested in more than friendship. Girls like Dorcas dated boys like Sirius and James, not Remus.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be in Ravenclaw?”

Dorcas looked affronted by what Remus considered a compliment. “I don’t have much else in common with Ravenclaw except study habits. I wouldn’t pick another House if I could.”

Remus genuinely smiled. He felt the same way about Gryffindor House.

“All right, you could quiz me on the vocabulary list.”

Remus and Dorcas spent the next hour and a half studying Ancient Runes. After they had both correctly translated all the words, properly drew all the runes, and Remus magically made a copy of Dorcas’s notes, they began packing up. Madam Pince was throwing stern glares in their direction, a sure sign that the library was about to close.

“Thanks again,” Remus said, shoving the textbook into his knapsack.

“No problem. You’re a good study partner.”

Remus was surprised that she thought so. With the number of times she had snatched her notes away and admonished him for allowing her to miss the exact wording of a definition, he was certain that she would never study with him again.

“Really?” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

“Oh, yes. Everyone else gets short with me.”

Remus physically bit his tongue. He didn’t want to offend the one person who would probably lend him exemplary notes in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy all year.

“I don’t know why,” Dorcas rambled on, still shoving reams of notes into her bag. “I just want to make sure I know the course material. Lily says that it’s just Ancient Runes, and it won’t affect my career, so I should lighten up. But you never know where life might take you. Would you like to study again?”

Remus opened his mouth to reply, but Dorcas continued chattering.

“I’d be happy to take notes for you again. I mean, unless you’ve found someone else to lend them to you. I’ve already checked. The next full moon is the twenty-third, and we have a test on the twenty-sixth, so you’ll need the notes right away …”

Dorcas looked up from her knapsack, ready to leave the library. She trailed off when she saw Remus staring at her. He looked suddenly ill. His skin was ashen and his hazel eyes reflected terror and disbelief. She furrowed her brow, wondering what could have happened in the last minute to cause the change.

She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, finally realizing what she had said about the full moon. Her actions shattered Remus’s horrified trance. He jumped up from his chair, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and bolted out of the library. Ignoring Madam Pince’s enraged exclamations that running might hurt her precious books, Dorcas followed him.

“Remus, wait, please!”

She caught up with him at the end of the corridor and grabbed a handful of robes. He spun around, his usually kind face contorted in fury and angry tears slipping down his cheeks. Dorcas released him immediately and stumbled backwards, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic emotional display.

“Afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Remus spat.

“N-No,” she stammered, but flattened herself against the wall despite her answer.

Remus turned away from her, roughly pulling a sleeve across his cheeks to push away the tears. Dorcas stepped forward tentatively, afraid of his reaction.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t keep my big mouth shut.”

“How long have you known?” he demanded, still not looking at her.

“Since before I met you, really. I wasn’t positive that it was you until last term,” Dorcas answered honestly.

Remus turned around slowly, curiosity replacing the anger. He had expected her to ramble on about lunar cycles and missed classes or his affinity for extremely rare meat.

“How?”

Dorcas moved forward again, closing the distance between them. For the first time, she wasn’t nervous about telling someone her secret. She knew that Remus would understand.

“Last term, Dumbledore started giving me private lessons to focus and control my ability. Before that, it was really random. When I learned how to control it … well, that’s what I did. I focused on what I’d Seen several years ago, and … well, I Saw you.”

Remus’s brow furrowed. Surely she hadn’t watched him transform, if that’s what she was suggesting.

“I mean,” Dorcas began again, noting his confusion, “Saw with a capital S. I’m a Seer.”

Dorcas was used to watching the doubt, wonder, and fear play across the faces of the people who knew. Not many people were comfortable being around her after they found out that she knew their futures.

“I won’t invade your privacy anymore,” she assured him automatically. She averted her eyes guiltily. “Dumbledore knew what I’d done when I came for the next lesson. He was furious. He’s making me learn something new, a way to block the Sight completely.”

“Why did you look into my future in the first place?” Remus asked irritably.

Dorcas shifted uncomfortably. The Sight was difficult to explain even when she was prepared to try. She didn’t feel like telling Remus that he fascinated her intuition.

“Look, I understand why you’re upset. I’m sorry, and I’ll leave you alone from now on. Just … don’t tell anyone. Dumbledore made me swear that I wouldn’t, and I’ve already broken that promise several times. If the whole school knows … well, it wouldn’t be a good thing.”

Remus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, contemplating the girl in front of him. She had a brilliant mind, but not much common sense.

“Of course I won’t tell. It’s important that no one knows about my secret either.”

Dorcas nodded and turned away awkwardly. With nothing left to say, she began the walk back to Hufflepuff Cellar. The encounter hadn’t gone the way she’d hoped. Instead of making a friend, she had alienated the one person she knew could understand how difficult it was to keep such a big secret.

Remus watched her retreating back, feeling as though he should have said a lot more. He didn’t appreciate her probing into his private life like she had done, but he was even less comfortable letting her walk away with his secret as just an acquaintance. Then there was the fact that no one had ever tried to befriend him after finding out about his lycanthropy. He’d lost plenty of friends and barely managed to hold onto some, but he’d never made new friends who already knew about his condition.

“I’ll need your notes again,” he called. “If you don’t mind me copying them.”

Dorcas peered over her shoulder. “Not at all. Same table?”

“Same table.”

*~*~*

August 3rd, 1979

The smell of crushed dittany was the first thing Dorcas sensed. She blinked slowly, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light in the room. For one heart-stopping moment, she was afraid that she was in the same room where she had met He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for the second time. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the familiar surroundings of the hospital ward at Holly Falls.

The candle beside her bed was burning low and casting elongated shapes of medical instruments onto a figure sleeping in the chair beside her bed. She smiled slightly at the sight of Sirius snoozing in the uncomfortable chair. He would have a terrible crick in his neck when he woke. She looked down at her hand, seeing for the first time what she had been feeling since before she woke up: his fingers intertwined with her own.

She wiggled around in the bed, trying to get more comfortable between the scratchy sheets. At the slightest movement, Sirius jolted awake and had his wand out. He gazed at Dorcas for a moment before deciding that it wasn’t a dream. He wrapped his arms around her and she embraced him just as tightly. They shared a kiss heedless of the other patients in the ward who had woken up and were watching curiously.

“When I saw them Disapparate with you, I thought … but then they brought you back. We didn’t know what to think. Moody wanted to take you to Azkaban for the night, just in case you were a Death Eater in disguise.”

“Sounds like Moody,” Dorcas laughed. It was a hollow sound, not like her usual merry jingle. “Sirius, what day is it?”

“Thursday … well, Friday now, August 3rd. Bones has been giving you Dreamless Sleep Draughts.”

“Three more days,” Dorcas whispered. She had slept for four days, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had only given her one week to return to him.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. I just can’t believe I slept that long, that’s all.”

“Now you’re up. Everyone will be so happy. We were so worried about you!”

Dorcas wondered how happy her friends really would be. Lily and Remus were already concerned that her Sight was a dangerous ability. If they hadn’t trusted her before she’d faced the Dark Lord alone, they wouldn’t trust her anymore afterwards. They would probably think she had been Imperiused.

Dorcas and Sirius spent most of the morning talking. The Death Eaters had been unusually inactive since that attack on Godric’s Hollow. Sirius didn’t say anything specifically, but Dorcas knew that he and the Order thought it was a direct correlation to Dorcas’s mysterious abduction and return.

Dorcas told him most of what had happened with the Death Eaters. She left out the part about her interpreting the Dark Lord’s future for him. Sirius seemed to guess that there was something she wasn’t saying, but he didn’t press the matter.

“The Imperius Curse is in the eyes, and your eyes are exactly like they were before.”

“Thank you, Sirius,” she said, smiling. “I can’t believe I never saw how kind you can be.”

“Don’t go telling everyone. You’ll ruin my reputation,” he joked, grinning wryly.

Later that morning, Healer Bones came by to inspect Dorcas. He gave her a clean bill of health, but prescribed plenty of rest and dittany mixed with essence of murtlap. During The Incident, as Dorcas thought about it, she had received numerous cuts and scrapes on her face and arms, although she didn’t know how. They stung badly, like non-magical wounds such as paper cuts and splinters.

Healer Bones didn’t ask about how she had received the injuries and Dorcas didn’t offer any explanation. She noticed that his gaze never quite reached her eyes. She wondered if he was tending to her only because the Healer’s Oath required him to.

“Good morning, Dorcas,” Dumbledore greeted, entering the ward as Bones was leaving. “I wonder if I might have a word?”

“Of course, sir.”

“You’ll be glad to know that your brother and cousin are safe. Darius has been staying here at Holly Falls, and when the situation was explained to Angelica’s aunt and uncle, they agreed to allow her to stay here as well.”

Something in his voice made Dorcas believe Angelica’s Muggle family had more like demanded that their witch-niece not return until Dark wizards were not after any members of the family, however distantly related they might be.

“I think it best that you also remain here at headquarters. Lily has offered to gather your things, if you’ll tell her what you need from your apartment.”

With that said, Dumbledore moved towards the door. Dorcas watched him leave with a mixture of confusion and anger. He hadn’t asked her what had happened or even used Legilimency to find out. He clearly had his mind made up about her, she thought. He didn’t trust her and that was that. At least, it seemed that way to Dorcas.

The same thing happened every time she encountered a member of the Order over the next three days. They would all say how wonderful it was that she was healing, but would never quite meet her eye. How were they supposed to know she wasn’t under the Imperius Curse if they never looked into her eyes, she wondered. Only Moody made no pretense of being happy to see her.

“You escaped? Or you were released?” he asked.

“Released,” Dorcas replied glumly. “That makes it a hundred times harder to believe, doesn’t it?”

“Aye, it does. But as long as you’re here and we can keep an eye on you …”

Dorcas appreciated his honesty, even if she didn’t like to hear it.

She had been essentially put under house arrest, and it was driving her crazy. Darius stayed in his room, listening to foreign Quidditch matches on the WWN, and Angelica sat with him. Sirius was good about spending as much time at headquarters as he could, but he was naturally restless and sitting inside all day didn’t suit him. She tried not to feel too bitter as she watched Order members freely coming and going.

On the third day since her waking, Dorcas held no ill will towards any of the Order members who refused to meet her gaze. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had told her to return within the week or he would show her how important she was to him. She knew that was a threat against her friends and family, and she was terrified for all of them. But she couldn’t join the Death Eaters to save them and in turn kill hundreds. She would have to trust in their magical abilities.

She thought about warning them, but the idea was too difficult for her to accept. She had tried to tell them about their futures, and they hadn’t wanted to listen because her ability was “dangerous.” Would they really listen if she told them He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had threatened to kill all of them to get to her? And if they did, everyone would know that blame for injuries and death lay with Dorcas.

As the day passed, Dorcas’s tension mounted. She sat in the kitchen at Holly Falls, watching Order members come and go through the front door, wondering which one of them might not return because of her. She was beginning to understand why Lily and Remus had been so afraid of her ability, and she wished desperately that one of them would come to headquarters so that she could tell them that.

She got her wish a week after the deadline expired, but it wasn’t how she imagined the fulfillment. Dorcas was perched in one of the high chairs around the island in the kitchen, sipping her evening tea and listening to Full Moon Blush on the WWN when the front door burst open and hit the wall so hard all the glass sconces in the hallway shook.

“Dorcas! Dorcas! Where are you, damn it!?”

She was so startled to hear James screaming her name that she nearly dropped her cup. She had never seen him so discomposed. Dorcas hurried down the hallway and slammed into James halfway to the drawing room.

“James? What’s going on?” she asked, pulling her wand out.

“Lily sent me ahead ... Go up to the hospital ward. I don’t even know if you’ve covered this in your classes yet.” He ran a hand through his messy black hair, but not in his usual vain manner. He was genuinely distressed.

“It’ll be okay, James,” Dorcas replied automatically. She grasped his upper arms and made him face her. “Tell me what to expect, and if I can’t handle it, I’ll send for Healer Bones.”

“It’s … it’s Remus.”

Dorcas’s calm façade slipped off her face. She tried to nod slowly, but she couldn’t hide the worry and nervousness from James. Together, they charged up the stairs and into the sterile ward. Dorcas rambled off a list of things for James to gather from the cupboard while she washed her hands and slipped on the sterile surgical gloves.

“They’re here!” James cried, sticking his head into the washroom.

When Dorcas emerged from the room, she came to an abrupt halt. Her legs refused to move as she watched Lily and Sirius lay Remus on the bed. His breath rattled in his chest, and his skin had turned sickly purple. A long gash on his forearm was coated in a metallic substance that Dorcas recognized as silver.

Her friends were watching her, all equally concerned and horrified at what was happening. Dorcas took a deep, steadying breath before forcing aside her more fragile emotions. This was one area she could always help the Order in, and more importantly, her friend. She had known how to cure these kinds of injuries since her fourth-year. Even if she couldn’t have performed the charms properly then, she could now.

“The Numbing Tonic, Lily, then the Sleeping Draught,” Dorcas barked. “Sirius, cut his sleeve off at the shoulder. James, be ready with damp towels and transfigure me a magnifying glass.”

They did as she asked without complaint at being bossed around like nurses and orderlies. When they had finished their jobs and Remus was unconscious, Dorcas moved to his side. She made no pretense about doing these spells nonverbally. She had to make sure they worked.

“Lamna!” she whispered, running her wand tip along the gash.

Hundreds of minuscule silver particles hovered in the air. Sirius held a dish under them, and when Dorcas lifted the spell, they pinged against the bottom. She took the magnifying glass from James and began the hardest part of the job.

“Give him as much Purifying Potion as you can make him swallow, then eight ounces of water, and repeat it three times,” Dorcas instructed, never looking up from the circular glass hovering over Remus’s arm.

Minutes ticked on like hours as Dorcas worked. Lily, James, and Sirius worked together trying to make the sleeping Remus drink the potion and water. By the time the routine had been completed, his chin and the front of his robes were stained neon yellow.

“Diced dittany,” Dorcas said, still not looking up.

Someone pushed an open jar of the herb into her hand. She worked deftly at the proper placement of the pink particles before performing the charm to seal the wound and bandage it.

Finally, she sat back and wiped her brow with her forearm. Remus’s chest was rising and falling steadily, and although his pallor was sickly, he was no longer purple.

“He’ll be all right, won’t he?” Lily asked, looking more at James than Dorcas.

“As long as I removed all the silver and he’s not allergic to anything in the Purifying Potion, yes, he’ll fully recover,” Dorcas answered, looking more at Sirius than Lily.

Her desire to apologize to her friend had evaporated in a matter of seconds. She remembered now why Lily didn’t deserve an apology. She couldn’t stay angry for long, however. Her concern for Remus and curiosity got the best of her.

“What happened?”

“We got a Patronus from Caradoc Dearborn and Apparated to Swansea like he told us to. Next thing we know, he’s attacked Remus and threw about a ton of silver into the air. When we’d recovered from getting it out of our eyes, Remus was on the ground … like that.”

“Caradoc did this?” Dorcas asked, aghast.

“He’d been … Imperiused. The moment he threw the silver, he snapped out of it. He’s with Dumbledore and Moody now.”

“It had to be Death Eaters who Imperiused him, but how did they know about his … furry problem?” Lily wondered.

Dorcas’s eyes slipped closed, but the tears still leaked out the side. She knew how they’d found out. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had seen some memory in her mind and told his followers how to kill Remus. She was so absorbed in her guilty emotions that she didn’t hear Sirius and James cursing Snape.

Dorcas left the room consumed by remorse and unable to stand watching Remus sleep any longer. The Dark Lord had threatened to do this, and she had believed he would, but she had not properly prepared herself for the shock of seeing her friend nearly die because of her decisions.

For the briefest moment, she considered searching out the Dark Lord and putting an end to it. Images of hundreds of innocent people dead flashed behind her eyes as she plopped into the chair behind her desk. She laid her head on the table top, fighting back the sobs threatening to emerge from her throat.

“It’s not your fault, no matter what you might think.”

Dorcas didn’t look up. Sirius wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders and laid his forehead on the back of her neck.

“Yes, it is, Sirius. He wants me, and he’ll use all of you to get what he wants.”

“And if he didn’t want you, he wouldn’t try to kill us?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Of course it’s not. You have an insatiable need to feel guilty, therefore, any fact that doesn’t add to the already massive burden on your shoulders won’t be the point, will it?”

“That’s … Your misinterpreting … Why … Merlin, you are infuriating! I take back any nice thing I’ve ever said about you! I don’t like you anymore.”

Dorcas felt him smile against her neck. “Let me give you a kiss, and we’ll see if you still feel that way.”

Over the next few days, Dorcas pretended to recover from the shock of seeing Remus nearly die to appease Sirius, but she still blamed herself. He was a constant companion, but his nonchalance about the whole ordeal was driving her crazy. She became more sullen the longer she remained isolated at Holly Falls, no matter how many hours she spent with Sirius.

At times, she contemplated using the Sight to predict who would be attacked next because she refused to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But she had lost all will to See anything since The Incident, and even if she could have used her ability to save her friends, they wouldn’t want to hear it. She was dangerous, Dorcas thought bitterly, and couldn’t be trusted.

A week and a day later, Remus was still in the hospital ward recovering from the attack. Dorcas mounted the stairs three times a day to inspect his wound, but she never stayed longer than was necessary. As she made her way down the long corridor for the last time that day, she heard voices drifting out of the ward.

“… That looks infected,” Lily’s voice said.

“I’m fine. I’ll have Dorcas look at it later. But are you two all right?” Sirius replied.

“Look, mate, do you think you should be spending so much time with—,” James began.

“Considering that I’m not the one who just escaped death for the second time,” Sirius countered irritably, “maybe we can forget about what I do for a few minutes.”

“We’re fine,” Lily answered. “Just a few bumps and bruises, nothing major.”

“I wouldn’t consider Voldemort nothing major,” Remus mumbled.

Dorcas reeled back from the door, her heart thudding in her chest. She groped around for anything to support herself with as she stumbled into the office and shut the door. She felt a tight constriction in her chest and the world around her spun and tilted violently.

James and Lily had just eluded the Dark Lord … again. That was twice they had faced the Dark Lord together and escaped. It was her fault entirely. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wouldn’t have gone after them if she had just done as he said. She forgot about Sirius’s logic and the fact that the Dark Lord had wanted Lily and James before he ever knew she was a Seer.

And Sirius had been injured as well. Lily sounded like it was a serious wound. She felt tears spring to her eyes when she thought about Sirius hurt. She didn’t know what she would do without him around. She needed his bark-like laugh to lighten her mood, his cool disregard for propriety and decorum to balance her sometimes anal retentive habits, and his sharp wit to keep her on her toes.

It was too much for her to handle, she decided. She would have to give in to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and strike a bargain. She would do whatever he wanted if he would just leave her friends alone. She had arrived at the front door before she realized she was even walking. The sight of the stark white door snapped her out of her panicked thoughts. She swallowed thickly and reached out for the doorknob.

“Where are you going?” Angelica asked.

Dorcas turned around, startled to hear her cousin’s sweet voice. She hadn’t so much as said ‘Good morning’ to Darius and Angelica since she had woken up in the hospital ward. She had assumed that they, like everyone else at Holly Falls, didn’t want to see or talk to her. The young girl moved forward and took Dorcas’s hand.

“Please don’t leave us.”

“Oh, Angelica. Sweetheart, it’s not that simple.”

“I know what you planned on doing, but you can’t do it. He killed our families, Dorcas. You can’t help him kill more people. Your friends wouldn’t want it.”

“H-How did you know?”

The girl touched the middle of her forehead with her index finger. “It’s a family trait. But Dumbledore said no one can know.”

A pained expression crossed Dorcas’s face and a strangled gasp escaped her throat. She grasped Angelica’s upper arms firmly.

“That’s right. Never tell anyone, anyone at all. Do you understand? The Sight is a curse and it will only make your life worse the more you use it. Don’t take Divination. Learn Occlumency so well that even Dumbledore can’t force you to open your mind.”

The young girl nodded vigorously. “I promise.”

“Wise advice.”

Dorcas and Angelica both turned to the door where Professor Dumbledore now stood. For the first time in many months, he met Dorcas’s gaze squarely. After the brutal mental assault from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Dumbledore’s gentle probing felt natural and relaxing. The Headmaster turned from Dorcas to Angelica.

“It is late, and you probably have some summer homework you’re putting off until the last possible second?”

“Yes, sir,” Angelica admitted.

“If you don’t mind, I have something I need to discuss with Dorcas. I shall see you at the Welcome Feast in a few short weeks.”

After Angelica had disappeared up the stairs, Dumbledore led Dorcas into the room where the Order held meetings. A stone basin carved with ancient runes sat on top of the table, and its contents shimmered and sparkled.

“If you’ll take out your wand, Dorcas, we have questions to ask and answers to find tonight.”

Dorcas and the Headmaster left the meeting room three hours later, both silent and somber. While Dorcas headed upstairs for bed, Dumbledore exited the front door. Many things had been revealed in the Pensieve; things that even Dorcas, the owner of the thoughts, had not known. A plan was beginning to form in the back of her mind, but there were many kinks to work out before it was remotely feasible.

As August became September, the weather turned unnaturally cold. The mist hanging in the air and the daily rain matched the mood of the entire wizarding world. Some of the best Aurors were lying in beds at St. Mungo’s, and the Minister of Magic herself had narrowly escaped assassination by the Death Eaters. She was a formidable witch and resilient, but the Healers were still concerned that she wouldn’t make a full recovery.

After the failed attack, the Death Eaters had taken a different approach. Instead of killing Aurors, they had begun to target Healers. Healer Bones was among the first to disappear. The Order and Ministry had been searching for any sign of him for weeks, but to no avail.

Healer training classes at St. Mungo’s started the last week of August, and Dorcas attended with Dumbledore’s approval. Dorcas wasn’t surprised to see that the foreign students had all gone home, and that many classes had been cancelled because the professors had been killed or abducted.

A great weight lifted off of Dorcas’s shoulders when Darius and Angelica left for Hogwarts on September the first. They would be safe there with Dumbledore watching over them. For nearly two weeks, she felt as though things might actually start to improve for her. News to the contrary arrived in the dead of night.

“Miss Meadowes, wake up. Dorcas, get up!”

She swatted at the hand that had invaded her dreams and was shaking her awake. The owner of the hand would not desist, so she waved her wand at the candle on the night stand. It burst into flame, spreading orange light over the sparsely furnished bedroom and the face of Professor McGonagall.

“Professor?” Dorcas asked yawning. “What’s going on?”

“Miss Meadowes … oh!” she cried, for at that moment the duvet beside Dorcas had been thrown off and a tousle-haired, irritable-looking Sirius had sat up.

“What’d you turn the light on for?” he grumbled. He blinked slowly at Professor McGonagall, then hastily pulled the covers up to his chin. “Professor.”

“Mr. Black,” she responded, her cheeks flushing. “Perhaps you two should get … dressed. I’ll be waiting in the drawing room.”

It would have been a comical moment if they hadn’t been woken up in the middle of the night by an Order member. Something had or was happening that they needed to know about. They dressed quickly and descended the stairs. Professor McGonagall was standing beside the fireplace with a flower pot of Floo Powder in her hands.

“Where are we going?” Sirius asked.

“Miss Meadowes is coming to Hogwarts, and if she agrees, you may come along too.”

“Please, professor, why do I have to go to Hogwarts in the middle of the night?”

The professor took a deep breath. “I’m afraid to say that there has been an attack on Hogsmeade Village. Ten Death Eaters raided the town. It seems they were looking for someone there.”

Dorcas’s heart was pounding violently in her chest. “What does that have to do with me? I only know the residents as acquaintances.”

McGonagall’s eyes glistened in the firelight. “Perhaps you should sit down.” When they had taken places on the couches surrounding the fire, she continued. “Today Gryffindor House held Quidditch try-outs. Apparently, a very solid team was assembled and they wanted to celebrate.”

McGonagall’s voice sounded very far away as she explained that the Gryffindor Quidditch team had snuck into Hogsmeade through a secret passageway built for emergency evacuation of students.

“Two of the students were able to get back through the tunnel. The others were not. Rosemerta found Darius outside her pub. Poppy is tending to him now.”

“He’s not … I mean, he’s all right?”

McGonagall dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I don’t know that ‘all right’ is quite acceptable at this stage of healing.”

Sirius helped Dorcas into the fire grate and led her through the deserted halls of Hogwarts Castle. It seemed ages since they had exchanged insults and occasional hexes in these corridors. Sirius hesitated at the door to the hospital wing, not knowing if Dorcas wanted time alone with her brother. When she didn’t release his hand, he followed her inside.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting at the door to her office with a brass candle holder. She cast Dorcas a sympathetic look before leading the young woman down the long row of beds. The nurse stopped beside a bed surrounded by curtains.

“This will be him.”

The others stood back as Dorcas pushed aside the curtains. The tears welling in her eyes slid down her cheeks as the candlelight fell on her brother’s sleeping face. There was a wide gash across the bridge of his nose and innumerable other cuts all over his handsome features. His skin was white as snow, and his chest barely rose and fell.

“Why isn’t he at St. Mungo’s?” she asked, her voice coming only in hissed whispers.

“What with all the Healers disappearing …,” Madam Pomfrey began, “Well, dear, it’s safer for him here and less of a burden on the hospital.”

Dorcas’s eyes remained fixed on her brother. He looked so like their father with his freckles, light hair, and athletic build. The crushing weight of all her loss hit her in that moment. She collapsed to her knees and fell onto her brother’s bed. Sobs wracked her body as all the pain she had kept bottled away for months on end came spilling out.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall fled from the scene clutching each other’s shoulders and sniffing loudly. Sirius stood back, unable to help Dorcas. He waited silently until she ran out of tears and the sun began to rise over the horizon. Gently but firmly, he lifted her to her feet and led her out of the hospital wing and back to Holly Falls where she could get some rest.

Hours and hours later, Dorcas woke from nightmarish dreams to find the full moon casting blue light over Holly Falls. For a moment, she wondered if it had all been a dream. She looked to her left, but Sirius wasn’t there. The sheets were dented from where he had lain, but he was gone now.

Dorcas rose from the bed and crossed the room. She gazed out the window at the city of London beyond the glass. Somewhere out there, Muggles bustled without a clue that some Dark wizard hunted them. Beyond the plains and mountains that separated the city and the Highlands, James, Sirius, and Pete were probably sitting together in some pub waiting for the sunrise so that they could make sure Remus was all right. In the West Country, Lily was sleeping soundly in her bed.

They would take care of each other, Dorcas thought. The Marauders had always been there for one another and nothing would ever change that. But Dorcas could no longer be a part of their clique. She had caused her father’s death and put her brother in the hospital near death. Her future now lay down a path separate from her friends’.

The plan she had began forming after looking into the Pensieve weeks ago was finalized in her mind.

It was time to stop hiding.


Chapter 16 - Memoria

October Twilight
Chapter Sixteen
“Memoria”

“Check and mate,” James grinned, moving his final chess piece.

Sirius frowned at the board. “How did you do that? I had my Queen here and my Knight here. You couldn’t have taken both of them. You Confunded me, didn’t you?”

Lily rolled her eyes. This was a routine that she had been forced to endure since first-year. At the end of every game of chess, Gobstones, or Exploding Snap, the loser claimed that he could have won and accused the winner of cheating.

“Don’t you have some studying to do?” she asked, looking pointedly at Sirius.

First semester of second-year Auror training had begun a week ago, and Sirius still hadn’t fallen into a routine. When Dorcas was around, she all but forced him to open his books by simply refusing to speak, look, or otherwise acknowledge his presence until her own studying was completed.

He had no doubts that his girlfriend was going to be a world famous Healer before she turned thirty. She would probably find the cure for lycanthropy, but out of the goodness of her heart, not to collect the financial rewards and instead publish her findings for the benefit of society. He, on the other hand, planned to earn his renown for actions rather than thoughts. Textbooks couldn’t teach him nearly as much as working for the Order.

“I was supposed to study with Dorcas, but she’s busy tonight,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, if Dumbledore put you on duty together, half a town would be destroyed before you could pry your lips apart,” James said, grinning roguishly at his best friend.

Lily rolled her eyes again. They had one track minds, men.

“Speaking of,” Lily interrupted, “How is she doing? She’s been … distant since Darius was hurt.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “She’s been that way with everybody, even Darius.”

“Do you think it’s … you know, a premonition?”

The room fell silent as Lily and James waited for Sirius to respond. “I don’t know, and that’s why I’m worried. She’s always told me about her premonitions before. If she knew something was going to happen, she’s warned me.”

“Always?” James asked, frowning. “She should know better—”

“Knock it off, Prongs,” Sirius growled. “I’ve told you before, she doesn’t agree with us. She thinks everything she Sees will happen and there’s nothing she can do about it.”

“All right, all right. Take it easy, Padfoot. You’d think I’d just called you Snivellus.”

Sirius cast a fierce look at his friend. “If I had criticized Lily, you would have …”

Sirius trailed off, realizing that he was comparing his feelings for Dorcas to James’s feelings for Lily. That wasn’t a place he was ready to go just yet, so he accepted defeat and ended the conversation.

But Sirius was more worried about Dorcas than he would let on. Something besides Darius’s condition was bothering her. Her brother was getting better everyday and Madam Pomfrey had let him resume his classes the previous week. Each time Dorcas returned from visiting him, she became moody and sullen.

Try as he might to brush it off as stress, he couldn’t. Every time Sirius thought Dorcas might be coming around, he noticed some other unusual pattern of behavior. Whether it was that she hadn’t memorized her textbooks, didn’t sleep for days at a time, or that she had taken to staring at the fire as if in a trance, the prickling unease continued to grow in Sirius’s mind. There was something Dorcas wasn’t telling him.

“Another game?” Sirius asked.

While he and James were resetting the chess board, Lily rose from her chair slowly. She peered out the window into the night sky blanketed with stars.

“James … Sirius … I think that game is going to have to wait.”

The two men followed her line of sight, comprehension dawning at the same moment. Amid the thousands of twinkling stars visible in the moonless sky, one bright speck was speeding in their direction. Less than thirty seconds later, a brilliant deer-Patronus was standing in front of Sirius with its head bowed.

Sirius retrieved the message and unrolled the scroll. In Dorcas’s handwriting was a hastily scribbled note.

Number 62, Upland How, Anglesey.

Hurry.

“Who lives in Anglesey?” Lily asked, grabbing her wand and rushing for the door.

James and Sirius followed her as she ran through the streets of Godric’s Hollow for a place unprotected by Anti-Apparation wards.

“That’s Dorcas’s cousin’s Muggle family,” Sirius replied.

They spun in unison and arrived in the small village in northern Wales a moment later. Not having been there before, they had Apparated far from the address. It wasn’t hard to find the house, however, for hanging in the sky was the sinister sight of the Dark Mark.

Without a thought except for Dorcas’s safety, Sirius began sprinting towards the house. Vaguely, he heard Lily and James yelling at him to stop, but his legs pumped of their own volition and his brain refused to consider the risks. Dorcas had been in that house moments earlier, and he wouldn’t leave her alone to face Death Eaters.

He skidded on the loose gravel as he rounded the corner and the house came into sight. The gated entrance had been blown off its hinges and lay a hundred feet away in the street, the remnants of the garden wall were nothing but pebbles, and the front door had been reduced to splinters. No light shone from the house save the evil green glare of the Dark Mark.

With his wand out, Sirius stepped over the demolished door and entered the house. The inside looked worse than the outside. Furniture had been overturned and hurtled across the rooms; glass from windows and picture frames covered the floor; books had been ripped from their places on the shelves; the chandelier lay shattered on the dining room floor; pieces of Muggle electronics were everywhere.

There were long, angry scorch marks on the white carpet and the walls. In places, the wallpaper had been torn to shreds and bits of miniscule plaster still lingered in the air. The staircase had been utterly demolished, leaving a great, gaping chasm above the cellar. Worst of all was that there wasn’t a single sound—no crying, screaming, not even heavy breathing. Slowly, with trepidation growing, Sirius entered the drawing room.

Broken glass crunched under his shoes, and the carpet squished, as if it was very wet and he hadn’t noticed. Sirius felt his breath catch and his heart stop for an unbearable moment. Then a surge of emotions—horror, anger, disbelief, sorrow—washed over him. Lying on the floor, lifeless brown eyes staring at the cracked ceiling, was Dorcas.

For a long, horrific moment, Sirius could neither move nor think. He stood frozen in the center of the sitting room, staring wide-eyed at his dead girlfriend. He felt alarmingly removed from the situation as he observed her oddly bent limbs and jutting angle of her broken neck. A trail of blood ran from her mouth, down her cheek, and dripped onto the white carpet.

Finally, Sirius reeled back in disgust as he realized why the carpet beneath his shoes felt squishy. Dorcas’s raven locks were matted against her head by congealed blood. That same blood had saturated the carpet. A wave of dizzy nausea washed over Sirius. He made to steady himself on the overturned sofa nearby, but that also was covered in blood. He turned away from the body and retched.

“Sirius!” Lily hissed. “What were you think—”

Lily never finished the question. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Dorcas’s lifeless body. James wrapped his arms around Lily as she screamed tearfully, and he held her back as she struggled to run to Dorcas’s body.

“You can’t, Lily. Not until the Aurors get here.”

Sirius stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over upturned chairs and demolished bric-a-brac. Lily’s screams had shattered the unreality of the situation, and what composure he had was rapidly falling away. The green light from the Dark Mark shifted as the snake writhed overhead, and for a fleeting moment, Sirius could see nothing in the room except Dorcas’s body.

As the light changed again, Sirius caught a glimpse of something shiny on Dorcas’s right forearm. He moved forward haltingly, wondering if he really wanted to investigate. Finally, he approached and pushed back the shredded material of her robe. Burned into her smooth olive skin were ugly, pointed letters and blood seeped from the gashes. Sirius blinked several times to clear away the unshed tears. He recoiled immediately. The longer he stood over her body, staring at the words, the more hatred and revulsion welled up in him.

He turned away, tears stinging his eyes and the image of his dead girlfriend burned into his brain. Even days later, when lack of sleep and the emotional vacuum of shedding too many tears had left him hollow, Sirius could still see the cruel words marring Dorcas’s skin.

Death First.

The words echoed in his head, growing louder as the minutes and hours ticked by. Voldemort had killed her, had snuffed out such a young and promising life. Dorcas had devoted her life to justice, equality, and healing and all she had earned for her efforts was torture and death. All because of one magical ability that she had not asked for, could not get rid of, and did not understand.

Voldemort would never pay for his sins. There were too many deaths caused by his hatred and his wand. A thousand lifetimes in Azkaban could never make up for all the murders and the grief and sorrow they caused. He would remain a black mark on the wizarding world, and he would continue to squander young lives for his own ends.

Dorcas had known this too, but she did not lose hope, not even when she knew she was a marked woman. At the very end, she had left the safety of Holly Falls to save a family who regarded wizards with trepidation. She had done what was right, though it cost her most dearly.

Sirius felt a swell of bittersweet pride as his gaze fell on a framed photograph taken at James and Lily’s wedding. In her final act, Dorcas had earned the trust she had so desired. Now that she was dead by Voldemort’s wand, the Order honored her as a hero. But he, Sirius, had known her loyalty all along. When others saw only a potential threat, Sirius had seen a loyal, just, caring woman …

A Hufflepuff …

Sirius turned his eyes to the next photograph. It was of just himself and Dorcas sitting on the bench in the garden at James and Lily’s house. How many times had he made derogatory comments about Hufflepuff when Dorcas yelled, took points, and put him in detention? He had understood so little about her, even in recent months when they spent all their free time together.

Hufflepuff courage is different than Gryffindor courage …

He had laughed so hard he had cried when she told him that. He cried now too. Not because Hufflepuff courage sounded humorous, but because now he understood how cumbersome justice and kindness could be. Too late, he understood his girlfriend. He longed to tell her, just once, that he truly knew her … that he loved her.

They had both been cowardly in that respect. Their emotions, carefully guarded by Occlumency and jokes, had never been freely exchanged. He honestly did not know how Dorcas felt about him, other than that she felt safe around him. He wondered if she had known how he felt about her.

“Sirius?”

Sirius was startled out of his reverie by Remus’s voice. His friend had only just arrived in London that morning. As much as he had wanted to come immediately when he received the news, the full moon had just passed and he couldn’t leave Scotland. Remus looked even more haggard than usual. The cuts and bruises from the transformation were nothing compared to the bloodshot eyes and deep frown.

Everyone was mourning Dorcas in their own way. Lily had taken Darius and Angelica into her care and was focusing all her energy on making sure they would be all right. James had taken double and triple shifts. Though he looked like the walking dead, he said it was his honor to give Sirius and Lily time off. Those who didn’t know Dorcas as well, like Pete and Hagrid, had come to the wake with awkward condolences.

“It’s time to … we need to go to Hampshire Village,” Remus said.

He seemed unable to say what Sirius dreaded to think about. The time had come to bury Dorcas in the Meadowes family mausoleum. The last three days had been a torturous affair for Dorcas’s dearest friends. They were dealing with loss, with guilt, and with regret, but it had also fallen to them to prepare for the funeral and burial. Darius was the last surviving Meadowes, and they were not about to make the young boy deal with such grim arrangements.

Sirius stood from his chair, nodding in acknowledgement of the words but saying nothing. He retreated into his room to find his freshly pressed black robes, leaving Remus to wait in the drawing room.

The young man moved around his friend’s flat, each step drudging up some memory he had tried to suppress for three days. Everywhere Remus looked there were reminders of Dorcas. The photographs only scratched the surface of her impact on Sirius’s life. The lack of butterbeer bottles, the stack of completed homework, and the tidy pot of Floo powder were all reminders of his dear friend. It seemed ages had passed since Dorcas first let slip that she knew about his lycanthropy.

Remus wandered over to the coffee table where the Daily Prophet lay unread, still where the owl dropped it. The front cover showed a gaggle of Aurors rushing around the Magical Law Enforcement Office. The headline read: Pandemonium at the Ministry: Death Eaters Strike with Renewed Vengeance. From what brief snippets Remus had glanced at when he paid the owl that had delivered his own paper, he surmised that many people had died in the last week.

…. daughter of Hit Wizard Simon Meadowes and world renowned journalist Petra Meadowes, Dorcas Meadowes, 19, was found dead late Monday night in Anglesey. The official Auror in charge of the case, Alastor Moody, reported that Meadowes died protecting her Muggle relatives. The whereabouts of said relatives are classified for the safety of the family. The suspected murderer is none other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but Moody refused to elaborate on the evidence that points to the Dark Lord’s guilt. Meadowes is survived by her brother, Darius Meadowes, 15.

“Ready,” Sirius mumbled, appearing in the drawing room.

Remus laid down the paper, unwilling and unable to read more. They were all about to be reminded about their friend’s horrific death in a few moments when her body was laid to rest in the family crypt.

Sirius and Remus Apparated to the cemetery just outside Hampshire Village. Moody and a few Obliviators were standing guard several hundred feet away. They would not be attending the private affair, but wizard burials were conspicuous and Hampshire Village was mostly Muggle.

A small group of Order members and Hogwarts students were huddled around the mausoleum. Lily and James stood with Darius and Angelica. The children looked so forlorn it brought fresh tears to Remus’s eyes. A group of Hufflepuff seventh-years, two of them prefects, stood together with yellow roses. Professor Dumbledore was standing with Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick. Several feet back, Pete was waiting with Elphias Doge.

The mausoleum towered over the other burial plots, most of which were sad little slabs of stone with names unevenly etched into them. It was clear that, long ago, the Meadowes had been a very prestigious family. Perhaps this was why they had been labeled as blood traitors, because Muggles held them in high regard.

The marble and sandstone structure stood as high as a house. The group had gathered on the north side where two stone griffins were poised in mid-flight, as if they meant to lift the resting place into the sky. On top of the mausoleum, stretching her arms to Heaven, stood an angel sculpted from the finest marble. There seemed to be no door, and yet the space between the griffins seemed to be just wide enough for there to be one. Lying on the slab of stone between the statues was Dorcas, wrapped in a black cloth.

“We have gathered today to lay to rest our beloved Dorcas,” began Dumbledore. “She lived a life of hospitality and service, and for this, her impact on this world will not be easily forgotten. As long as we follow her example and remain loyal through adversity, honest through difficulty, and compassionate in the face of hatred, she will be remembered. Today, we lay to rest our beloved Dorcas.”

There was a clash like thunder and a great cloud of smoke. As the mist cleared, the two griffins could be seen moving back into their guarding places. Dorcas’s body was gone from the dais, and the space between the statues remained blank. When the griffins became immobile once more, a golden thread appeared on the white stone. It wriggled and moved, becoming a web that filled three quarters of the blank stone. Slowly, Sirius realized that each golden thread had writing underneath it. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they were names and dates. When the thread reached the middle of the space, it twisted around many times before the light suddenly vanished. In its stead was etched into the stone an epitaph.

Dorcas Anstice Althea Meadowes
January 30, 1960 – October 5, 1979
Thy now to sleep, Darling Daughter

The family and friends of Dorcas dispersed slowly. Tearfully, the Hogwarts students laid their yellow roses on the ground by the stone wall, and the professors paid their last respects before walking back to the portkey waiting under a nearby tree. Angelica, sobbing with grief, was led away by Darius. Remus and James followed after them, leaving only Lily and Sirius standing before the tomb.

“I can’t believe she’s really gone. There’s so much I never said to her.”

Sirius nodded ruefully. “I think we all wanted to say things and didn’t.”

“Pete meant to buy her another owl,” Lily said, but her laugh turned into a sob. “She would have liked him, if he hadn’t blown up Toga, right?”

“Of course,” Sirius answered automatically. “She liked James too, Lily. She just didn’t like to admit she was completely wrong about something.”

“I was never sure.”

“She liked anything that was good for her friends.”

They stood in silence for many more minutes. Finally, Lily turned away and joined James, Darius, and Angelica. The students would have to return to Hogwarts soon, but for the next week they would be staying at James and Lily’s house.

The sun settled behind the horizon long before Sirius tore himself away from the cemetery. Like so many others, Dorcas was a casualty of the war. The sooner it was over, the better. Dorcas had committed herself to fighting for that goal, and she had died for those she loved. Sirius could think of no better epitaph than that.

Sirius turned away from the Meadowes mausoleum and began the long walk back to Hampshire Village. Dorcas’s death was heart-breaking, but it had not been in vain. She had saved many people, and had died a hero for it.

But Sirius didn’t have to lose anymore friends. Dorcas had told him how to save Lily and James. No longer did he doubt her advice. As he crested the hill and the sleepy village that used to be Dorcas’s home came into view, Sirius made a solemn vow that he would protect his friends with his life.

He knew the future, and he would find a way to change it.

The End
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Printed from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sat Nov 14, 2026 8:03 pm