All our times have come
Here but now they’re gone
Seasons don’t fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
(We can be like they are)
Come on baby, (don’t fear the reaper)
Baby take my hand, (don’t fear the reaper)
We’ll be able to fly, (don’t fear the reaper)
Baby I’m your man
Sunday 2nd July 1978
“Hurry up, Potter!” Sirius winced as Remus banged against the door of the phone box, rattling the glass. “Other people need to make phone calls, y’know!”
James pointedly turned his back on the impatient boy, clutching the receiver closer to his ear.
“Leave him be, Moony,” Sirius groaned, leaning on the fence to support himself. Even with the dark sunglasses he’d thrown on, the bright summer sunshine was giving him a headache. “And stop all the banging, will you?!”
“Take another painkilling draught,” Remus rolled his eyes, unsympathetic, “You’re just hungover, it’s your own fault for getting so smashed.”
“I was the life and soul, I’ll have you know.” Sirius sniffed, crossing his arms petulantly as Remus finally left poor James alone and came to sit beside him.
Their end of school party the previous night had been everything they’d hoped for—the Potters’ house had been jam packed with all Hogwarts leavers (with the exception of most of the Slytherins), as well as some of their friends from younger years. Christopher and Yaz had both been there, along with the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team and a handful of sixth-years from the Prank-Planning Co-Operative. Quite a few siblings and family members had come, too, as had some members of the Order of the Phoenix. No Dumbledore, of course – it was a professor-free zone – but Fab and Gid popped by, much to the delight of Sirius and James, as well as Frank and Alice. All the girls had cooed over Alice’s engagement ring, and there had been a round of toasts congratulating the couple on their upcoming nuptials.
The festivities had carried on until late into the night, just like their common-room parties, and Sirius had had the time of his life dancing with Mary and challenging Yaz to a drinking contest and telling Fab and Gid all about the marauders’ final prank. Eventually, though, things had started to wind down, and the girls had all said their goodbyes at midnight, having promised their parents that they’d spend the night at Lily’s (even though there was more than enough extra room at the Potters’).
Which was why Sirius now stood, nursing a headache, outside the phone box at the end of the road, watching James chatter eagerly to his girlfriend as though they’d been separated for days instead of a handful of hours.
“So unfair, him making us race down here – as if I could ever beat James ‘hangover free since ‘73’ Potter.” Remus muttered, frowning darkly at the boy in the phone box. “And it was unsportsmanlike. He knows I have a handicap.”
“I thought your hip was better since you got that stuff off Marls?” Sirius asked, sunglasses slipping down his nose slightly as he peered over at his pouting boyfriend.
“It is.” Remus smiled, dryly. “I meant my smoking.”
Before Sirius could respond, a low rumble began in the distance. He sat up sharply, tearing the glasses off his face to get a clearer view of the road.
“Is that?!”
Remus frowned.
“Sounds like it, yeah…”
Sure enough, a few seconds later the motorbike crested the hill, shooting down the road in a flash of chrome and steel and growling engine, just as beautiful as Sirius remembered it. He watched, riveted, until it was nothing but a speck in the distance. Once it was gone, he sighed, happily.
“Ah, I’ve missed her.”
“It would be a ‘she.’” Remus grumbled, scuffing his toe in the dirt.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Potter!” He moved from his perch on the fence, pounding a fist against the phone box door, “Get out here right now!” He gave Remus a pointed look, raising his brows, “Will you cheer the fuck up after you’ve had your phone call?!”
“Yes.” Remus muttered, still pouting.
It took five more minutes for James to bid his girlfriend farewell. When he finally exited the box with a dreamy smile on his face, Remus shoved past him and slammed the door shut, reaching for the phone and dialling the number.
“And how is Mrs. Prongs this morning?” Sirius asked, grinning as James took Remus’s previous spot beside him.
“Shouted at me for letting her drink three cups of Witches’ Brew,” James sighed, wistfully, as though he could think of no greater pleasure than listening to Lily Evans complain over the phone. Sirius laughed.
“Sounds about right.”
“She says hello, though. So do Mary and Marlene.”
“They all got back safe, then?”
“Yeah. Apparently they woke Petunia, now she’s not speaking to Lily.”
“Ah yes, the sister.”
James frowned, staring down at his feet. “Properly foul, she is.”
“So I’ve heard. Hey – what’s going on with the wedding? Lily mentioned that it was this summer.”
“Oh, that.” James sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Her mum’s insisted that Lily needs to go, even though Petunia’s been an awful bitch about it. Still refusing to put Lily in the wedding party, but at this point I think that’s more a relief than anything – apparently Tuney’s been going mental for months, harping on about every little detail. Sounds like it would be a nightmare to actually be involved in the wedding party. Lily already reckons she’s driving their mum into an early grave, what with all the stress.”
“Ugh, Petunia sounds like she’d get along with my mother.” Sirius shuddered, “Bloody hate weddings.”
James nodded, still looking a bit distracted by thoughts of Lily and her fraught relationship with her sister. After a moment, Sirius nudged him, trying to cheer him up.
“So when are you and Mrs. Prongs moving in together, then? Should I prepare a housewarming gift?”
But this only seemed to make James gloomier. “Lily’s parents want her home for the summer, to help with the wedding. And she said her mum’s not keen on the idea of us moving in together – thinks we’re too young.”
“But you’ve both already lived together, at school!”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t think it’d be ‘appropriate,’ just the two of us on our own. Anyway, Lily’s going to talk to her again after the whole mess with the wedding is over, so we’ll see…”
The conversation was interrupted by a loud burst of laughter from inside the phone box, where Remus was hunched over, clutching his stomach. James and Sirius watched him, for a moment, as he tried to catch his breath.
“He’s talking to his…friend? The one from St. Edmund’s?”
Sirius nodded. “Grant.”
“Reckon we’ll ever get to meet this bloke?” James smiled, watching Remus burst into another fit of laughter, “Seems like a good mate.”
Sirius shrugged, replacing his sunglasses on his face.
When Remus finally emerged from the phone box, he was still chuckling to himself, face split into a broad grin. James and Sirius hopped down from the fence, joining him as they began to walk back up the road.
“What’s so funny?!”
“Couldn’t possibly tell you,” Remus shook his head, “Muggle humour.”
As they made their way back towards the house, James mused, “Reckon we ought to see how Pete’s doing?”
Sirius shook his head. “Nah, you know how he is with hangovers.”
“All right, but we need to make sure not to leave him out,” James said, frowning slightly, “I think he’s worried about it…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius waved a hand. “Oi, quidditch?”
“Yes!” James nodded, enthusiastically. “Just let me change…”
“I’ll get a book, then…” Remus sighed, though he didn’t really seem to mind—he was in a much better mood, after his conversation with Grant.
Inside, James dashed up the stairs, slamming the door behind him as he disappeared into his bedroom to change into a quidditch kit. Remus and Sirius made their way upstairs at an easier pace, and as they walked Remus turned to him, smiling,
“Brighton in August?”
Sirius blinked, then smiled back, taking off his sunglasses,
“You want me to come, then? Yeah! Cool!”
“Of course,” Remus said, as though it were obvious. Sirius’s heart did a little flip—he’d half thought that Remus might want to visit Grant alone; that he wouldn’t want Sirius intruding. The fact that Moony wanted him there sent a warm wave of happiness washing through him, as though he’d just taken a sip of hot chocolate.
“Hello, boys,” Mrs. Potter chirped, sweeping out of the room where Remus was staying with a pile of laundry in her arms.
“Hello, Mrs. Potter,” Remus said, glancing at the door with a slightly uneasy look, as if he hadn’t expected to see James’s mum coming out of it.
“I see Sirius was so drunk he ended up in yours, Remus,” Mrs. Potter chuckled, folding a pair of Sirius’s jeans, “Honestly, dear, you ought to have just shoved him out.”
“Oh!” Remus stammered, going bright red.
Sirius glanced between the two of them, heart pounding. He’d been wondering, for a while, whether to tell James’s parents about…this. He knew, rationally, that he could probably keep his relationship with Remus a secret if he really wanted to; after all, they’d had plenty of practice sneaking around and making up excuses. But the Potters were his family—the only real parents he’d ever had. And…he didn’t want to hide from them.
“Actually,” Sirius said, before he could change his mind, “Remus and I prefer sharing. If that’s…er. Well, we’d just prefer to, ok?”
Mrs. Potter blinked, looking between him and Remus—who was still blushing furiously, but said, weakly,
“Yeah!”
“Well,” she replied, slowly, “If you like. I suppose the bed’s big enough for two.” She smiled, warmly. “Whatever makes you happy, dears.”
Sirius felt a rush of gratitude and relief as she patted Remus’s shoulder, gently, and then leaned over to kiss his cheek. Euphemia continued down the stairs, humming quietly under her breath, and Sirius realised that he was grinning like an idiot. He reached out to squeeze Remus’s hand, wondering to himself,
How did I get so lucky?
* * *
Wednesday 5th July 1978
They received the invitations on Tuesday night, one letter each. They weren’t delivered by owl; instead, they simply appeared, mysteriously, on the Potters’ dining room table as the five of them were eating dinner. Sirius, James, and Remus read the notes together – a request to attend a meeting at a top-secret location, which only Mr. Potter knew, and which could only be reached by portkey. They were signed by Dumbledore; the second each boy finished reading, the notes crumbled into dust.
It was what they’d expected, of course. They’d all made their intentions to join the war effort very clear to Dumbledore, so it was no shock to find themselves recruited. Still, Sirius could hardly finish the rest of his dinner, stomach churning with nerves. He and Remus got ready for bed without speaking, both lost in their own thoughts about the mysterious invitation. The second they crawled into bed, Sirius curled into Remus’s arms, burying himself under the covers.
“Tell me something,” he begged, “Anything.”
“I’m really scared about tomorrow,” Remus murmured, holding him a bit closer, “It feels so real now. But I think it’s normal to be scared. I think anyone would be.”
Sirius grunted into his arm, still feeling sick with anxiety. Wasn’t this what they’d all wanted? His brother’s words from all those months ago rang, once more, in his head: As if you’re not planning to run off and enlist in Dumbledore’s little army the second you’re out of school…
Next to him, Remus whispered, “But d’you know what scares me more?”
“Hm?”
“The fact that we’re planning to move in together and neither of us can cook.”
A startled laugh leapt from Sirius’s throat, and eventually he found himself drifting off, smiling against Moony’s chest.
They had to walk, the next morning, to reach the portkey, tramping through an overgrown field until they came across a small yellow duck – it looked like a children’s toy. Sirius thought that it was too early for hiking, but Remus seemed to be enjoying the trek.
“Can’t believe we’re only a few miles from London,” he murmured, smiling up at the clear blue sky.
“Garden of England,” James grinned back.
Fleamont gathered them around, so that they formed a small circle around the little duck.
“All got your wands?” He stared at each of them in turn, waiting for them to nod. Despite the cheerful sunny day, he looked very solemn, and Sirius felt another twist of anxiety in his gut.
On Mr. Potter’s signal, they all reached out to touch the toy. The world was sucked away as they were each sent spinning; it had been a while since Sirius had travelled by portkey, and he felt a bit dizzy when they finally landed at the secret location.
Sirius wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Some sort of bunker, maybe, or a general’s war room with maps spread across the walls and a grand mahogany table. Instead, he found himself standing in a rather small and horrendously decorated living room – it looked like a gaggle of grandmothers had been left to run wild, pasting up garish floral wallpaper and vomiting tacky cross-stitched throw pillows onto the ugly faux-leather sofa.
“Fleamont?” A gangly man with a shock of red hair walked in just as they arrived – Sirius recognised him from Christmas, the husband of Gid and Fab’s older sister.
“Arthur!” Mr. Potter reached out to shake the man’s hand, with a friendly smile.
“Sorry, Monty,” Arthur said, leaving Mr. Potter’s hand dangling in mid-air, “But Moody would never forgive me if I didn’t follow protocol. Now, let me see…what was the nature of the last owl I sent you?”
“It was a thank you card,” Mr. Potter responded immediately, “Effie sent Molly a few of James’s old things for Bill and Charlie.”
“Lovely.” Arthur nodded, reaching out to return the postponed handshake.
“Boys, you remember Arthur Weasley,” Mr. Potter waved them all over, indicating that they should shake the man’s hand, as well. “This is my boy James, Sirius, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin.”
“Hello there, what’s this?” Arthur squinted down at the little yellow duck, which Remus had clutched in one fist.
“Er. A rubber duck.” Remus looked down at the toy in his hand.
“I see, I see, and what’s it for?” Arthur stepped closer, clearly intrigued. Remus seemed a bit perturbed by his eager curiosity.
“Er…it’s just a rubber duck,” he said, shrugging. “D’you want it?”
Arthur accepted the toy, looking absolutely delighted.
“Better not tell Molly! She thinks I’m mad already.”
Remus didn’t reply, only smiled politely—Sirius nudged James, resisting the urge to snicker.
“How is Molly?” Fleamont asked, “And the boys? Twins, did I hear?”
“Yes, three months old now,” Arthur said, proudly, “I did wonder if we ought to stop at five, but Molly’s keen to try for a girl; poor thing’s rather outnumbered, as things are.”
He walked as he spoke, guiding them out of the gaudy living room and into a more conservative kitchen, which was attached to a sunny conservatory. As they entered, Frank and Alice looked up from where they were lining up mugs on the Formica counter.
“Hello!” Alice greeted them, “Tea?”
They gave her their orders, and Frank began divvying up tea leaves into a collection of teapots. Alice instructed them to go ahead into the conservatory, where the meeting was due to begin shortly.
As they walked, James asked, “Whose house is this, dad?”
“Best we don’t know too much,” Mr. Potter smiled, “Come on, now, they’ll all be waiting.”
The conservatory was much nicer than either the living room or kitchen, with sunlight streaming through the glass windows and turning the terracotta floor a warm burnt orange colour. Through one of the windows, Sirius could see a neat little garden beside a swing set and a slide; inside the greenhouse, there were even more plants, flowers and cacti and even a few small trees all potted and arranged carefully on homemade wooden shelves.
It must have been the largest room in the house, but even so, it was crammed nearly to bursting with people. Sirius guessed that there were about thirty different witches and wizards, some gathered around a large table, other standing or sitting on the scattered wicker garden furniture. Hagrid was there, towering over everyone in one of the little corners, with the top of his head nearly brushing the roof of the greenhouse. Sirius had never seen the groundskeeper outside of Hogwarts, and he had to do a double take.
Hagrid was not the only person he recognised; there were also the Prewett twins, Mad-eye Moody, Professor Ferox, and Ted Tonks, Andromeda’s husband. Sirius was a bit surprised to see Emmeline Vance and Dorcas Meadowes standing off to one side together, but before he could say hello, Lily, Mary and Marlene hurried over to greet them, looking relieved to see the boys. Mary hugged Remus, and Lily hugged James, and Sirius opened his arms and waggled his eyebrows at Marlene, who laughed and smacked him away.
Once everyone had finished saying hello, Marlene beckoned an older boy over from where she and the girls had been standing.
“Remus!” She said, eagerly, “This is Danny!”
The family resemblance was striking; both siblings had the same willowy build, broad mouths, and sandy hair.
“Oh, hello,” Remus waved, shyly, and Sirius moved a bit closer, sensing his discomfort.
“Hi!” Danny smiled, eyes catching on the scars across Remus’s face. He held out his hand for a handshake, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, I owe you such a—”
“Danny McKinnon!” James exclaimed, noticing who they were talking to. He rushed over, babbling, “Can I just say that you are absolutely, without a doubt, the best beater the Cannons have ever had?!”
Danny laughed, turning towards James,
“Thanks. I hear you’re a bloody good chaser – it is James Potter?”
“Yes, and I’d love to—”
“Hate to break up the social club, gents,” Moody interrupted, “But we’ve some business to get down to.”
Everyone fell quiet as they gathered around the table, and the previous cheerful smiles were replaced with solemn glances. The meeting began with introductions, though it seemed that almost everyone there was already familiar with each other. When it was Sirius’s turn, he cleared his throat, heart pounding, and said,
“Sirius Black.”
A few of the members began to whisper, and some faces darkened, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Sirius raised his chin, daring them to say anything – to question why he was there.
Nobody did.
Once everyone had been introduced, they moved on to reading the minutes from the previous meeting – of course, most of this was unintelligible to the newcomers. Nobody paused to explain who or what they were talking about, running quickly through a list of names and locations, referencing past missions without going into any detail. A lot of the talk seemed to centre around ministry politics; they spend a good deal of time on various policies that they were trying to push through, or else reforms that ‘their side’ was gunning for—nobody had to ask who ‘their side’ was.
Aside from this discussion about the ministry, they spent a good deal of time talking about ‘gathering allies’ and how to convince more people to join the Order, or at least to support the Order’s goals. From the sound of it, many wizards were sympathetic to their mission, but the increasing violence of the death eaters’ attacks made people hesitant to risk their safety by joining. A list of the missing was read next, and they all observed a minute’s silence on a suggestion from Alice.
After that, Moody went through a few more updates. There were a handful of questions about Dumbledore and whether he had made any ‘progress,’ though no one bothered to explain what sort of progress they were referring to. Assignments came next – Frank and Alice were instructed to be in Anglesey every night next week at exactly 6pm, though what for, Sirius had no idea. Kingsley Shacklebolt had a mysterious meeting with ‘our mutual friend’ ‘you know where’ on Friday. The Prewett twins were assigned to guard duty at a handful of different locations, though of course there weren’t any details as to what they’d be guarding. Everybody seemed to take these assignments in stride, nodding solemnly when their names were called.
Finally, Moody clapped his hands together and stood, bringing the discussion to an end.
“Those who have to go, go,” he said, “I’ll send word via the usual channels for our next meeting. Anyone needs to speak to me now, you’ll have to wait a bit.” He pushed back his chair, moving to talk to a grey-haired woman in the corner.
Immediately, a furtive buzz of chatter broke out as people turned to their neighbours, discussing the meeting in hushed voices. Sirius glanced at James, who shrugged, as if to say, Don’t look at me, mate, I’m just as lost as you. Fortunately, Mr. Potter seemed to sense their confusion, because he hurried over to their group of friends, saying,
“Come with me and Hagrid,” he glanced at Lily, Marlene, and Mary, “You too, ladies, we’ll get you all up to speed, eh?”
The girls smiled, gratefully, and their entire group turned and prepared to follow James’s dad.
“Not you, lad,” Moody suddenly appeared, reaching out a calloused hand to grip Remus’s shoulder. “Ferox and I need a word. And you, McKinnon.” When Marlene turned to him in shock, he added, “Daniel, that is.”
Remus looked at Sirius with wide-eyed panic, and Sirius felt his heart sink. Werewolves, again. He supposed they should have expected it—still, his heart crawled into his throat. But before any of them could say anything, Ferox strolled over, laughing as he said,
“Don’t look so jumpy, Lupin, I promise we’re not going to torture you.”
Remus laughed nervously, smiling weakly at his old Care of Magical Creatures professor. Sirius frowned as he watched the group walk away, Remus and Danny following after Moody and Ferox as they made their way back into the house.
“Right then,” Mr. Potter clapped his hands together, “Follow me, you lot.”
He led them out to the garden, where Hagrid was waiting. He looked much more comfortable now that he was actually able to stand up straight. Dorcas and Emmeline were outside, too, along with a few other people that Sirius recognised as recent Hogwarts graduates. There were ten of them altogether, and they gathered into a sort of semi-circle with Fleamont and Hagrid at the centre.
“Hello, hello, nice to see some new faces,” Mr. Potter smiled at the group, looking at each of them in turn, “The Order is only as strong as its members, and we think it’s honourable what you kids are doing – standing up for all wizards, to make our world a safer place. I’ve no doubt that this cause is very important to all of you, and it takes a lot of courage to fight for what you believe in, especially in times like these. So thank you for being here.”
“Yer all doin’ the right thing,” Hagrid added, gruffly, “Standin’ up against you-know-who.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Potter nodded, growing a bit more sombre. “And, as I’ve said, the Order appreciates your service. Truly. But you are all very young, and I want to ensure that you understand – what we are doing here is dangerous. This work, it’s important, but I won’t sugar coat it. Most of the folks that you saw today at that meeting have spent months risking their lives to try and keep others safe. You are all incredibly young, and I hope that we will never have to ask that of any of you – but I would be remiss if I did not impress upon you the nature of this operation.”
He took a breath, eyes sweeping over the row of solemn faces. “This is a war that we’re fighting. And it is a war in which we have very little support. I don’t know how much you all have been following the news, but we cannot rely on the Ministry to assist our efforts – Voldemort has friends in high places, and many departments are already compromised.”
Sirius thought of Rodolphus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, his cousins’ husbands, both of whom worked for the ministry. He thought of the crazed gleam in Bellatrix’s eyes as she’d pulled up her sleeve, revealing the twisting snake on her forearm.
“I’m sorry—are you saying that the Ministry is controlled by…you-know-who?!” Emmeline asked, blanching. Mr. Potter shook his head.
“Not controlled, no. Not completely. It has been a long and ongoing struggle to keep the Ministry out of his hands—in fact, one of the Order’s primary missions is to protect our government from death eater control.”
Everyone shifted, uncomfortably, at that. Sirius knew that things were bleak, but he had never heard James’s dad speak so openly about the state of the war—it was jarring to hear that the Ministry had become just another battleground between the Order and the death eaters.
Fleamont continued to speak, explaining the focus of the Order’s current missions and their primary goals. Hagrid chimed in every once in a while, to add a few details about the sorts of jobs that they could expect to help out with – research, reconnaissance, guard duty. It sounded as though most efforts were focused on bolstering their alliances and defending against death eater attacks.
“You-know-who wants to divide us,” Mr. Potter told them, “He wants to use fear to turn wizards against each other. That’s why it’s so important that we present a united front against the death eaters, especially now. We need to show the wizarding world that fear is not enough to break us; that no amount of violence can turn us to hate. Remember, no matter what happens – the fact that you’re all here, that you all care enough to fight for this cause…that’s proof that he hasn’t won. That we aren’t going to let him win. Alright?”
Ten faces nodded, heads bobbing up and down, eyes flashing with passion and determination and the belief that they could win.