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Curse of the Reapers by deanine

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Chapter 8 – Chocolate Frogs and Crimson Dragons

History of the World Volume XXXI Chapter 23 The Rule of Turpin – When the Heart is Conquered Anything is Possible

The heart is a much-debated organ. It can be argued that love, friendship, and family strengthen those who possess them. It can also be argued that those same things can be used equally as weapons to weaken. Our emperor has no living family. His concubines come and go more frequently than the seasons change. In his isolation he is at his safest.

Yet he loves one thing, the empire. The only children he claims are those people he rules. The very ties of family and love that our emperor has shirked bind his true family to him. Men with children and wives don't want war or revolution. Peace and safety are their main goals.




"Ron told me what you did. You said you'd play war with that evil little toad?" Hermione stared at Harry with outright disgust etched on her face. "I thought I knew you. We were friends. I almost even trusted you a little."

"Were friends, past tense? Come on, Hermione. It's not that bad, really. Draco and I have to work together. If he wants a promise of a little assistance the next time he has a feud, what can I do but help. We have an understanding that if it involves a friend of mine then I'm out. Now, who isn't a friend of mine?" Harry grinned at Hermione as though his logic were perfect. "If I'm friends with all potential feuds, I won't ever have to go to war."

Hermione gathered her books up and glared down her nose at Harry. "Maybe you won't end up embattled with any classmates, but I can think of one fight he might involve you in. Draco hates Professor Riddle." Hermione tapped Harry's right arm where the spell-art was hidden by his shirt. "You get your own Veto, then you and your new friend will really match."

"Hermione," Harry groaned. "That's an ongoing war. He can't apply our agreement retroactively."

"You established that explicitly? Why do I doubt you? I'll see you at dinner, unless you're at war. Send word from the front lines if you can." Without looking back, Hermione swept out of the study room and slammed the door behind her.

Frowning at the closed door, Harry opened a book and started skimming. Hermione had a tendency to be a little negative, and she wasn't a fan of Draco, but Harry had an odd notion that maybe with a little effort they could all get along, coexist, and work in some semblance of peace. It was his job to make their situation work, at least that was what being number one meant to him.

"Thank God she's gone." Creeping out from behind a dusty bookshelf, Ron slid into the seat Hermione had just vacated. "I thought you two were going to talk forever."

"Why are you hiding from Hermione?" Harry asked. "Did you two have a fight?"

"As if that were unusual, but we did have an ugly argument about you this morning. Apparently, you and Draco's revitalized friendship and plans are entirely my fault. I mean how stupid could I be, trying to sleep while the two of you were high as kites with your wands at hand." Ron reached over and closed Harry's text. "If it weren't for my shoddy friendship you wouldn't have a spell-art tattoo, and Draco would be an enemy as Hermione is quite certain he deserves to be."

"That's ridiculous. Draco and I have been working things out for weeks now. And I like the spell-art." Harry rolled up his sleeve and flexed his arm so that the snake moved. "You should give yourself one, not necessarily this pattern, but one that you like."

"My mother would murder me if I started drawing on myself with my wand, but it is sort of nice. Can I touch it? Did it hurt?" Ron was already reaching toward Harry's arm when he rolled his sleeve back down.

"No you can't touch it. It just feels like skin, and I don't remember it hurting. Not that I remember much about Halloween." Harry sighed at his pile of texts. "I didn’t get anything done last weekend because of all the drama. You know all those pre-winter-break exams? Hermione says we should be studying now, that we should have been studying for weeks." Harry dropped his forehead down on the stack of books he was supposed to read. "But I can't study anymore."

"I've been waiting for you to say that for a month," Ron said. "Come on, follow me."




Sitting quietly on her bed Lisa Turpin brushed at her hair with an ivory-toothed comb. Her yellow silk dressing gown dripped over the sides of the bed, falling like a golden river. She flipped her shiny black hair over her shoulder and abandoned her comb on the dressing table. A slip of paper, her quarterly progress report, rested on her lap.

The school system worked hard to perpetuate a system of constant competition, and everyone's report ranked them one to twenty in every class. Lisa scanned the lists less concerned with her own progress than with the boys in her class. She had a responsibility to her family to find a nice powerful logical wizard, spot him, bag him, and eventually marry him. Her parents had been drumming logic and mathematics into her since she could hold a quill, but she didn't have much in the way of natural ability with the subject. Unfortunately, her family had a role to play for the emperor that didn't include entire generations that found mathematics challenging.

Lisa sighed dramatically. Judging from the lists, the most likely possible mate for her was Hermione Granger. Unfortunately, she didn't swing that way.

"Lisa, what are you doing?" Draco asked.

Lisa pouted her lips at the slick young man and smirked. "I'm just looking over my progress report. You did okay in most classes I see. I'd pay to see your personal comments from Dark Arts class."

"It must be nice, not having to worry about any of it, knowing that you're headed for the third tier no matter what," Draco said. "My father wanted us to be friends."

"Every Wizard-raised kid here is at least under orders not to make me mad. Your father wanted us to be friends. What do you want?" Lisa asked. "I assume you have a reason to come visiting."

"Can I come in?" Draco hesitated over the threshold to the girls' dormitory.

"Enter foul boy. You have my permission," Lisa said. She moved her dressing gown so that Draco could join her on her bed. "Well?"

"Would you like to have breakfast with me?" Draco asked.

Lisa shrugged half-heartedly. "There's nothing I can do about your Veto, you know. The Turpin name was a gift from the emperor, but it isn't a blank cheque."

"I know, Lisa. Did I ask you to fix my problems? I thought I asked you to have breakfast with me." Draco smiled playfully. "Come on."

"Fine, I'll have breakfast with you, but I have to get dressed first. Out. Wait for me in the hall," Lisa commanded.

Showing no signs of bristling at Lisa's highhanded commands, Draco headed back outside without protesting. Lisa couldn't fix his problems, but she could help him fill out his army. There were two groups making up the body of Class I: the group home children with their undeclared leader Harry and the Wizard-raised children with their mini-empress Lisa. He was already halfway to unifying the class with Harry's concession to help with his next war. Now if he could just get Lisa onboard...things might get interesting.




In the school's second basement just past the statue of Knight Millard the V, Ron and Harry peered into the cobwebs looking for a secret passage. "How did you hear about this anyway?" Harry asked. "I mean a secret passage out of the school and into London? We're not even supposed to be anywhere near London."

"My brothers had a long talk with me a few nights before leaving for school. They wanted me to know how far you can push the administration without getting declassified and sent to Class II. Plus they wanted to make sure that someone in the first year knew how to break out of this dungeon when it all gets to be too stifling. As for us not being anywhere near London, the passage is magic of course." Ron seized a candlestick that wasn't dusty and grinned. "This is it!"

"Won't someone notice a couple of eleven-year olds wandering the streets of the city?" Harry asked. "I mean my group home is in London, but they kept us locked up tight."

"This tunnel is going to drop us off in new London, the nice side of town. As long as we stick to the shops there, we'll be fine. Students have been doing this for years." Ron pulled down on the candlestick and the wall swung open revealing a pitch-black cave. "I guess this is it." But he didn't take a step forward.

"Come on." Harry raised his wand and grinned at Ron. "I warn you now. I have no pocket money. Lumos."

With a light revealing the tunnel's plain gray walls and well-worn path, Ron's courage returned. "I said my family wasn't well connected. I never said we were destitute. I have enough pocket money for two as long as we don't get too extravagant."

"I have never walked into a shop and spent money," Harry said. "The experience alone should be extravagant enough for me."

When they reached the other end of the tunnel, Harry pushed at the door blocking their way. With a resounding squeak it opened into a sweet-smelling cellar. "Follow me. I've been to London before," Ron said. "We should be in Oyard's Pub. We'll get some snacks and find a spot to relax in. Do you like puffed creams, chocolate frogs, or snap jacks?"

"Chocolate frogs," Harry said. "What else?"

The pub wasn't terribly busy; the only other patrons, a couple of witches, chatted and giggled in a sunny booth. Ron climbed onto one of the stools at the bar and smiled nervously at the bartender. "We need a couple of Butterbeers, and do you sell chocolate frogs?" The burly man nodded. "Well, give me as many as my change will allow." Ron settled his money on the bar.

Harry helped Ron carry his goods to the outdoor café and they sat down at a table. He'd never had more than a couple of chocolate frogs at a time and Ron's change had afforded them nearly two dozen. "This much chocolate could put us into sugar shock."

"Nah," Ron said, already shoving his first frog down. "My big brother Charlie once ate thirty of these at one sitting, no problem." He examined his card. "Nadia DelPrince, never heard of her, an excellent addition to my collection."

"Thirty at once? Talk about excessive." Harry opened his first frog and checked out the card. "Emperor Turpin himself." The man on the face of the card seemed to be napping, his head tilted forward and his eyes shut. "Is this one rare?"

"Not really," Ron said. "Don't you collect them? I mean everyone collects them, right?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron and opened another package. "Yeah, that's really important in the budget at the group homes. Everyone there has extensive collections. It's unreal."

"I'm sorry. You don't have to be sarcastic," Ron said.

Harry shrugged and they opened packages in companionable silence for several minutes. After their treats lay in quasi-neat deconstructed piles, and their Butterbeers had dwindled to nothing, Harry met Ron's eyes and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry if I caused problems between you and Hermione. You two have had a hard time figuring out your partnership, and I didn't mean to make things worse."

"Eh, it isn't really fair to blame you. I'm avoiding Hermione more because of the quarterly progress reports than anything. Did you see where her name was on the lists? She never drops out of the top five, well almost never. I'm number three in this class. Why is she number four if she's that much better at all this stuff than me? I swear she's giving me an inferiority complex."

"The former Muggle is giving you an inferiority complex? That is funny, Ron. Hermione would appreciate the irony. You should tell her." Harry might have said more, but a procession was moving down the street. Hooded wizards and witches, black cloaks billowing about them dramatically, were leading a regiment of Imperial Soldiers. They seemed terribly out of place storming a sunny street and its bright shop fronts. "Who do you think they are?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should head back to school?" Ron said. "They seem serious."

"Wait. Look." Harry stood pointing toward one of the black cloaked wizards. As a group they had thrown back their hoods. He didn't recognize any of the other five, but the one with the bright red hair couldn't be mistaken for anyone but who he was. "Ron it's your brother, Fred."

"Fred?" Ron joined Harry staring. He shouted louder, "Fred!"

The Imperial soldiers stormed into the sweet shop across the street. They dragged an old woman shopkeeper out of the establishment. "For seditious crimes against the empire, Gertrude Lannigan, you have been sentenced to life imprisonment in the Saharan Dungeons. Do you confess your guilt?" one of the witches said.

"Confess? No, I'm innocent. Sedition? I'm not a rebel," Gertrude gibbered. She gripped her white apron and crouched low on her knees in supplication. "Please, have mercy."

"She isn't ready to confess," the same witch said. She turned to one of the other wizards and grinned. "Whatever should we do?"

"Gluto," the silver-haired wizard said. "Acquire a confession."

Fred broke from the group and he began casting at the old woman. "Crucio. Zoto. Crucio. Crucio. Zoto." The woman's screams soon drowned out the words of the curses Fred was casting.

Harry thought the woman would scream forever, but eventually she was only sobbing. And Fred was laughing. They were all laughing.

"Gertrude Lannigan, do you confess your seditious crimes against the empire, or need we continue?" the witch asked.

Through her jerky sobs, Gertrude managed to choke out an answer. "Guilty. I...guilty."

For the first time, one of the wizards turned so that Harry and Ron could see their face fully, and Harry took an involuntary step backwards. The entire left half of Fred's face was marred by an irregular black mark centered over his eye. That eye was glowing a fierce empty red. Ron dropped back into his seat heavily as though his knees had given out. The six wizards and witches replaced their hoods, and the Imperial Soldiers carried the old woman, Gertrude, away in their wake.

"What did they do to my brother?" Ron whispered. "Fred would never do something like that. What did they do to him?"

Shaking his head, Harry stared after the departing soldiers a sour taste in his mouth. "We need to get back to school."

"I don't want to go back to school," Ron whispered. "I have to talk to George if we go back to school, and I don't know how to tell him what we just saw." Ron let Harry pull him to his feet and lead him back through the pub and to the secret passage. As soon as they were safely back in the school, Ron grabbed Harry's arm and squeezed it aggressively. "That wasn't really Fred. It couldn't have been. We didn't see it right."

"It looked like Fred to me," Harry replied. "It looked just like Fred."




In the fifth year boy's dorm George was spending his Saturday in bed. Dark circles under his eyes bore testament to his exhaustion, but he wasn't sleeping. Sleeping had become nearly impossible over the last few weeks, since they took Fred. Everyone had tried to reassure him that his brother was alive and well and fine. Word had come down from the third tier and everyone was breathing a sigh of relief.

No one was listening to him. No one cared about his nightmares.

George tried to explain. Something terrible had been done to Fred. He dreamt about it every night. He dreamt of drowning, of burning, and of freezing. It wasn't his imagination, and it wasn't his fear. Fred was being hurt while his family was sitting around clucking their tongues and wondering what sort of training he was receiving.

Sitting through classes, taking tests, and doing homework, George was through with it all. After the winter break he had no intention of returning to school. Nothing could make him come back to the place that sent his brother into that unknown hell he dreamt about. He wasn't through with his parents either. If he had anything to do with it, his brother Ron wouldn't be coming back to school either. Charlie was off playing rebel, and George was ready to join the cause. Maybe along the way he'd be able to find Fred and free him.

Maybe.

George turned over in his bed and he spotted the pipsqueak at the door. Ron and his friend Harry were headed his way. "Hey, what are you doing in the big boy's dorm?" George asked. "You're liable to get hexed by an upperclassman for wandering up here."

Ron knew that he had to tell George what they'd seen, but his throat was constricted tight and aching. Looking at his brother's tired eyes, he couldn't find the words. He had just watched Fred, his twin, cast torture curses at a defenceless old woman and laugh about it. The twins had always been so close, so full of laughter. Their jokes usually involved taking the mickey out of their little brother, but Ron would let them torture him forever if he could make things go back to the way they were. "I saw Fred today," Ron choked out. "We went to London to have a break." Ron's vision blurred and tears leaked from his eyes. "Something was wrong with him, George. He didn't answer when I called, and he cast a lot of curses at this witch. There was something wrong with his eye. It was red and glowing...There was something really wrong with him."

"Red on black," George replied, his voice surprisingly steady. "I dreamed about the red, burning red. In my dream it's like burning and freezing and drowning all at once." Sitting up in bed, George started rummaging around for some robes. "He's in London right now? I'm going looking for him."

"I don't think he lingered," Harry offered. "They were arresting this witch and I think they took her to the Saharan Dungeon. I imagine they're long gone."

"Don't care. Have to try," George said. "If there's a chance my brother's in London. I have to go find him and help him."

"Okay, we'll come too," Ron said.

"You, little brother, are four feet tall. I've got this one," George said. Jerking his robe into place, he headed for the door. "Thanks for coming straight to me Ron. You did the right thing."

Gazing at the empty doorway, Ron frowned worriedly. "Maybe coming straight to George wasn't the best idea. I should have written a letter to mum or dad. What happens if George finds Fred? Do you think he can help him?"

"They're twins. They have a connection, you said so yourself. If anyone could help him, I guess George could. Besides we don't even know what's going on." Harry pushed Ron toward the door. "We need to get out of here before we do get hexed though. A couple of seventh years did a number on Neville and Millicent yesterday. A bad case of boils isn't going to help anyone."




One word could sum up Remus's first impression of South America, hot. From the moment he and Lily dismounted their brooms on the white sandy beach of the Aztec capitol, Tenochtitlan, he'd been sweating like a pig. "I can't believe it's autumn here. How can it be this steamy in November?" Remus asked.

A sheen of sweat shining on her forehead, Lily shrugged. "It just is, I suppose." A thick jungle stretched out ahead of them, full of strange animal sounds and odd rustlings. "So where is it that we're heading?"

Remus unrolled a map and pointed to a spot on the coastline. "We should be here and we want to get to the center of government, there, but we can't fly. They have an extensive free-roaming dragon herd."

"You don't think we could dodge a few hunting dragons?" Lily asked. "Come on. Let me Disillusion you, then you do me, and we'll be fine."

"Except that forty percent of dragon species hunt by scent, twenty five by sound, and only thirty five use sight to identify prey, while ninety five percent are aerial hunters," Remus said.

"You still turn into a textbook when you're nervous." Lily laughed and took another step toward the jungle. "I guess you don't know what these South America dragons hunt by? We can either risk it with a Disillusionment charm or we can head into that jungle on foot. Neither of us is James Potter on a broom, but we can do this."

With a nervous look at the jungle, Remus nodded. "You're right, okay, but we need to be careful. I don't much like dragons."

"Why Remus, here I thought you were a fearless mercenary." Lily swished her wand and wordlessly cast a Disillusionment charm on her friend. He shivered under what she knew was an odd sensation like being coated in a cool film of goop. "Hit me now."

Of course she didn't see the wand coming, but she was expecting the chilly spell when it struck her on the top of the head. "Let's do this." Lily mounted her broom, which then fell under the spell Remus had cast. While she could still see Remus's broom, Lily groped over and managed to grab his hand. "How good are you at synchronized flying?"

"We're going to have to hold hands to keep from losing one another up there? I like this less and less, Lily." Remus gripped her hand and straddled his broom. It was funny how some dragons, a broom, and a pretty girl could undermine his confidence, making him feel fourteen again.

"On the count of three head up to just over tree height," Lily said. "I'll take the lead. One. Two. Three."

From the sky, what had looked like an unbroken wilderness gradually gave way to patches of settlement. Villages broke into the jungle at regular intervals. No signs of agriculture were present, but occasionally Lily spotted people working amongst the dragon-hide tents. Apparently South American Dragons were a rather pretty coral pink.

Or maybe the sun caused the dried hides to fade, Lily had to addend mentally when they spotted their first hunting dragon. His scales were crimson tipped in gold. European Dragons were bigger; this specimen wasn’t much larger than a good-sized cow. Lily heard Remus gasp and felt him pulling her backwards. “Stop. Be quiet. He isn’t after us. Look.” Sure enough the dragon was chasing a flock of gulls toward the ocean. His mouth gaped wide revealing three even rows of needle sharp black teeth. Using his wings as a net and his mouth to eviscerate, the dragon dropped from the sky, a half dozen birds captured for breakfast.

Lily couldn’t see Remus, but she knew he hadn’t been exaggerating his discomfiture with dragons. “Let’s up this sightseeing pace we’ve been flying at. I’ll take the lead,” Remus said. He squeezed Lily’s hand tighter and pointed them toward the nearest pyramid. They had to have dragon wards up protecting their central government, and Remus meant to be within those wards as soon as possible.

When they finally arrived at their destination, it was all Remus could do to refrain from kissing the earth. “Okay, remove my Disillusionment and I’ll do you,” he said. Once they were completely visible again, he led the way to the largest of the pyramids.

Lily thought that after all the time they’d spent planning and travelling, she would be ready for the interview they had crossed the ocean to conduct. Scaling the steps of Tenochtitlan's central pyramid, she realized that she wasn’t ready at all. Lily tried not to focus on the blackened altars at each level. Anyone at all interested in Muggle rights knew about the Aztec pyramids and the ancient rituals enacted regularly on their steep sides. On average a Muggle was sacrificed every three days. Turpin allowed such atrocities under the guise of protecting another culture's religion, but Lily couldn't look at those stained stone slabs without seeing the face of her mother, her father, her young nephew. She and Remus were going to have to talk with the Aztec priests and maintain a civil dialogue. Lily stopped two steps from the entrance of the pyramid and turned to Remus. "I can't do this. I know we're trying to investigate a possible kidnapping, and I know these people may have answers, but you know what they do here. You know who they kill on those altars."

Remus stopped and nodded. "I understand if you can't come in, but you should maybe consider the people you're willing to talk to back in England. Most of the men over fifteen participate in the monthly werewolf hunt back home. Is it more civilized to kill Muggles or werewolves?"

"Point taken," Lily said. "For the record, I don't associate with werewolf hunters either."

"But you deal with them, talk with them, pretend you don't hate what they do," Remus said. "It's the same thing here. Just stay calm. If you can't, then let me handle it."

"I can be calm. I think." Lily stood straighter and glared toward the pyramid entrance. "Sorry for being so sensitive."

"Never apologize to me for that," Remus said. "If a few more people were sensitive about the little things like human sacrifice, it would be a different world."

Lily headed up the last of the steps and turned to Remus, before heading in. "It will be a different world. We’re going to change it."

Remus walked forward to link his arm with Lily's. How was he supposed to maintain his cynical outlook on life when Lily could still spout her rebellion's ideals like she believed them? "Good luck with that."




Considering how warm it was on their continent, it was no wonder that the dress code was a little more lax than Lily was used to. The priest who had agreed to talk with them was wearing a simple white sarong-type garment and that was it. She refused to let the expanse of uncovered chest unsettle her. His bald head was painted red and he didn't smile. Lily thought he looked the part of murderous priest. Rather than spit on him like she wanted, she smiled her sweetest smile and bowed her head calmly.

Remus set a conch shell on the ground between them and clapped his hands over it. "Greetings, High Priest. We come from Europe, though we are not representatives of the Empire." The shell vibrated Remus' words in the Aztec language the moment he stopped speaking. "We would like to ask you some questions."

"You may ask, but if you have no Empirical authority, I may not be able to answer," the Priest replied. The conch translated his words back to English. "Don't offer me your names, because I won't lie for you if questioned about our interview."

"Agreed." Remus pulled a heavy gray sack out of his pocket and handed it to the Priest. The Priest opened the bag and scattered a couple of the yellow stones into his palm. "They repel malaria mosquitoes." Remus said. Amber wasn't easy to come by in this part of the world and the charms he offered were of reasonable quality.

After stowing his bribe, the Priest visibly relaxed. He actually smiled at his visitors. "You may ask your questions."

Remus nodded to Lily and she stepped forward to make sure the conch shell caught her words. "We have travelled a long way to find out what you know about a witch named Oscasia. According to some documentation we found, she paid handsomely for the quiet abduction of children on this continent for over a century. We have reason to believe she has shifted her operations back to Europe. What can you tell us?"

"I was sad to see Oscasia leave our land. She did pay handsomely for her children, but we scrape by now without her," the Priest said. "They restructured our education system when they came, Oscasia and her priestesses. Very strict rules were enacted. All children between the ages of eleven and nineteen were to be kept in school. They scoured the jungles and the tiniest villages. We weren't even allowed to train our priests in peace. I was educated in the empirical system from nearly a decade. Wasted time."

Lily bit back the sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue, about learning to kill Muggles young. "Oscasia paid for abducted children. Can you give us any more details?"

"Yes. She liked them to have Muggle backgrounds, the stronger the better. The Reapers she brought with her all but chased every dissident north nearly to Quebec. Our lives were made much easier by the increased imperial presence, despite her school rules." A bright-green parrot fluttered into the room interrupting the priest. He checked the note on the bird's leg and shook his head. "It appears our interview must now end. When you return to your continent, you can tell the lady Oscasia that she is welcome in our land should she ever desire to return. Her gold and charms are missed."

Lily could barely wait until they were clear of the Aztec pyramid to vent her outrage. "That beast of a man is their religious leader. He was SELLING his people's children to that woman for God only knows what purpose. Just standing in the room with him made me feel dirty."

"It's hard to imagine anyone just selling children. Hopefully, this Oscasia isn't finding many willing child-brokers in Europe. We haven't heard about any specific abductions back home, yet," Remus said.

Lily shivered and shook her head. "It's just a matter of time as long as people like Oscasia are allowed to do what they want in the name of the Empire. We have to do something about this, about her."

"That's what your rebellion is for, right?" Remus knew that children were a delicate subject with Lily having lost two in a fire years earlier, but he didn't try to offer her comfort for that old loss. He wouldn't know how to begin, and it would probably just open old wounds that she didn't want to think about. "I expect that interview will be enough to satisfy the inquiry, but let’s interview some regular citizens before we get back on our brooms."

Despite their best efforts, the regular citizens wouldn't even talk to the strangely dressed foreigners. The men and women made strange hand gestures and fled into their hovels.

"I want to get out of here," Lily said. “This isn’t accomplishing anything.”

With the bloodstained pyramid looming over them, and the uncommunicative villagers scurrying around them, Remus didn't even consider setting up camp inland. "The safest place to make camp is going to be the beach, which means we have to get back on the brooms and brave the dragons again."

"Come on, that dragon didn't even look at us twice. It was too busy chasing the cranes," Lily said. "I need to sleep, and I'm never going to be able to rest within sight of that altar of death."

“I know we have to cross the jungle again eventually. Just Disillusion me, Lily.”




Dear Oscasia,

There are currently five children registered in the rebellion's daycare system who would be of interest to you. The oldest is four. The youngest is fifteen months. If you decide to perform an extraction, please notify me, and I will get you the details we will need.

Always your servant,

Peter

"Pettigrew! Peter, are you here?"

Peter quickly folded the letter he had been writing and turned to the tent opening. The dashing young man in his doorway, James, hadn’t been by for a visit in nearly a year. Seeing him again reminded Peter why he’d joined the rebellion. It had seemed glamorous to him back then, a Class III wizard with a chance to follow the Class I demigods off to save the world. Sirius and the rest never took him seriously. He wasn’t in their school, in their Class. If his parents hadn’t been working for the Potters, he never would have got mixed up in their plans. James always took pity on him, even when they were small, sticking up for him in the schoolyard, allowing him to tag along on his intrigues.

“Hello James, what brings you here?” Peter asked. “Shouldn’t you be busy leading us all or something?”

“Actually, I received a letter from my parents today, and they included a message for you.” James passed the folded parchment and glanced around Peter’s messy office. “They’re probably inviting you to spend Christmas with them like last year.”

“It’s very kind of them,” Peter said. He peeked at the note and skimmed its contents. “Are you and Lily well?”

James smiled and nodded. Peter listened to him talk about inconsequential little things like Lily’s charms and their temporary separation because of work. It was almost insulting the way James pretended that they were friends. Peter had left those illusions behind when his friend abandoned him in the Master Scheduler job behind a desk. Peter sat around doing his paperwork and made sure there was someone in daycare twenty-four hours a day, that there was someone on third shift wandering the perimeter. James and the rest went away on their adventures, and the only thing that ever brought any of them back to see him was the annual invitation to Christmas dinner.

Peter wondered absently if Melinda Potter still drank too much eggnog and serenaded her husband under the mistletoe. When they were kids it was an annual tradition. The Potters Christmas parties had always been fun, not that he’d attended recently. Peter hadn’t actually gone to the party in six years, not since he switched sides and sold James’ children.

“I can’t really linger, Peter, but I hope you can get away this year. It’s unlikely that Lily or I are going to make it, and I know Mum misses having family close to home,” James said.

“I’m not exactly family,” Peter said, “but I’ll try to make it.”




Author's Note:

Major Revelation Number One: Fred is now a Reaper. Make of it what you will.

I haven't said so in a couple of chapters, but Magical Maeve is still an awesome lady for looking over this fic for me :)