October Twilight

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