October Twilight

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