Finally, it had arrived! The day Lily Evans had both been dreading and looking forward to for years: her valediction from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
For her part, Lily was surprised that this many of the members of her original first year class had completed the full seven years of schooling. Lily wistfully thought back to all the classmates they had lost. Davey Gudgeon had been killed in a Death Eater attack in Diagon Alley the month before. That wound had not even begun to heal yet, and Lily did not allow herself to dwell on the memory of receiving word of his horrific death. Two sets of peers had dropped out of school and gotten married, one had moved to America, another two to France, and five or six had never returned after the Christmas and Easter holidays. Lily preferred to remain optimistic about their disappearances—they, too, could have moved away or transferred—but she had a nagging suspicion that something Dark was involved.
Nevertheless, the majority of them were here. They were all alive and well, that was the important thing, thought Lily. Just then, her eyes were drawn to a tall black-haired boy coming toward her. No, Lily correct herself, James was a man now. They were all legally adults now. Where had the time gone? It seemed such a short time ago that Lily had been laughing most cruelly at an embarrassed James Potter as she refused him a date for the first time. If someone had asked her then if she could ever see herself loving James she would have had a good laugh before shouting out a resounding, “NO!”
Lily sighed and affectionately gazed at James weaving his way through the crowd of people to reach her. How they both had changed. Lily would not have believed a year ago that she could possibly love another human being as much as she now loved James Potter.
“Lily,” James began, but Lily grabbed the front of his robes and proceeded to snog him breathless.
“Wow, uh…thanks,” said James dazedly when he and Lily separated a moment later. “What was that for?”
“For just being you,” Lily said, giggling at him. “Did you want to tell me something?”
“Oh, erm, yeah,” he said, shaking himself out of his stunned state. “Professor Dumbledore wants to speak with us in his office.”
***
Lily stepped into Dumbledore’s office after James, surprised to see other students already seated and glancing curiously at each other. Sirius, Remus and Peter were there, as well as Frank Longbottom, Alice, Dorcas Meadowes, Will and John Parry, Emmeline Vance from Hufflepuff, Benji Fenwick from Slytherin, and another couple of students with whom Lily was not familiar.
“Come in, come in!” called Professor Dumbledore cheerfully, rising from his seat behind his desk. He conjured two more squishy chairs for Lily and James and they sat.
“Excellent,” said Dumbledore. “Now that you are all here, let me first offer my congratulations on finishing the last of your seven years at Hogwarts. I understand that most of you have plans and goals for the years ahead, and you may want to pursue those rather than, or in addition to, my offer.” Dumbledore stopped briefly. All of the students were gazing very intently at him, now intrigued.
“Curious creatures, phoenixes; they conjure life from death, take what is moulted and burnt and create beauty,” Dumbledore continued. “It is toward this end, the creation and sustaining of life, that we all must dedicate ourselves, as all honourable people do.”
“When a darkness falls,” here the light of the candles flickered and dimmed, “light must shine through the purer.” As he finished this phrase, Fawkes the Phoenix lit up in a brilliant light that was more keen and shapely amid the shadows than its candle-bound predecessors. Slowly, the light equalized and the candles were lit as before. Dumbledore seemed to retain that spark, that fiery light from Fawkes, in his words and motions.
“What I am asking of you,” said Dumbledore softly but clearly, “will be most dangerous and life-threatening at times, and many of you may not pull through with your lives intact. You may decline if you wish, and no one will think any less of you.”
No one breathed.
“As you well know, the Dark Lord Voldemort and his band of followers, the Death Eaters, are rapidly gaining control of our world. Naturally, there are witches and wizards determined on standing in his way. A select few of those people, myself included, formed a group called the Order of the Phoenix. We work in secret to try to suppress Lord Voldemort. The Order has many members—most of which will remain unknown to you for secrecy purposes—but as of this moment, Lord Voldemort’s Death Eaters outnumber us. This is where all of you come in.
“As the Order’s leader, I have chosen you, Hogwarts’ finest, to join the Order of the Phoenix. The Founders chose to divide this school by those blurred lines of bravery, cunning, cleverness, and loyalty. This day, as you leave these hallowed halls, I ask that you forget these walls we all have forged and join together as one. Together, we are more cunning, clever, brave, and loyal than any of us apart.” As he pronounced the valued aspect of each House, Professor Dumbledore steadied his icy-blue eyes on a student from the House.
“However, as I said before, this organization cannot escape its brushes with death and danger, so it is understandable that some of you will decline joining the Order.”
There was silence for a moment as the students digested all of this, then-
“I’m in,” said James firmly, rising from his seat proudly.
“Me, too,” Sirius, Remus and Peter echoed while they stood, followed almost immediately by Lily, Alice, and Frank. Soon, every student in the office was standing, steadfast and defiant. Fawkes took off from his perch, trilling a twisting melody that leapt and fell with wild abandon. The occupants of the office watched the phoenix’s majestic flight, feeling their hearts swell with strength and hope.
“Bravo,” said Professor Dumbledore, clapping his hands together and positively beaming at his pupils. “I will be in contact with all of you shortly into the summer with further instructions.”
The graduates left Dumbledore’s office, most strangely subdued. James and Lily walked side by side, but Lily hung back slightly when the other Marauders joined James and began conversing with their heads slightly together.
On one hand, Lily was thoroughly elated. The commencement ceremonies had not yet faded from the Hogwarts grounds. She was going to be living with her wonderful, loving, nearly perfect boyfriend and his family, and would be attending Heirem Venenietus Potions Academy in the fall. To top it all off, she had just joined an exclusive group that was active in the war against Lord Voldemort. On the other hand, however, Lily was nervous. While she felt positive that joining the Order of the Phoenix was the right thing to do, she, James, and all of their friends would be putting their lives even more in danger. Though we seem to do that on a regular basis, thought Lily wryly. She worried no more about it presently because just then, James joined her.
“Talk about leaving school with a bang, eh, Lily?”
“Mmm,” was all she said, and she leaned in to kiss the man she loved.
And then frightened, frantic screams pierced the laziness of the after-ceremony, breaking up the pleasant conversations and wishes of congratulations.
Lily and James broke apart quickly, turning in the direction that most of the crowd was now facing.
“Oh no,” said Lily the same time that James exclaimed, “Death Eaters!” They both drew their wands.
A few cheers rang out from among the screams. Dumbledore, they chanted.
“He’s here,” James said. His voice had taken on such a loathing tone that Lily knew James did not mean Dumbledore. She followed his steady gaze. There, in the midst of his Death Eaters, was Lord Voldemort himself. An involuntary shudder temporarily shook Lily’s entire body as she set her gaze upon the Dark Lord. But James’ eyes were fixed upon the person behind Voldemort.
“Who-?”
“My father.” James’ eyes had a hardened, blazing anger deep within his umber orbits.
“Are you sure that’s him?” Lily asked uncertainly, peering intently at the man charging across the grounds.
“I know my father. That’s him.”
“James," began Lily warningly, gently. "Don’t do anything you’ll wish you hadn’t…”
“Lily, I’m not going to fight my own father. Let’s help Dumbledore.”
Professor Dumbledore had the new Order members gathered, wands held in front of them, ready to fight.
“Your time for aid has come, it seems. A bit earlier than expected, but no matter,” Dumbledore said hurriedly. “Do not be afraid of the foes you face. Stand strong. Simple Stunners ought to suffice if you are hard pressed. Stay out of Lord Voldemort’s range. With that said, drego morn*!”
Their action only slightly delayed by the curious last words of the Headmaster, the students and teachers charged the Death Eaters. Immediately, the front line of both sides crumpled. Spells of every colour and intensity flew in all directions. Some were aimed to kill, others to cause suffering, and still others were fired simply for the sake of striking at the enemy. From a distance, the light show would no doubt have been beautiful; up close, it was terrifying. The innocent spectators who had come to partake in the commencement ceremonies fled for the shelter of the towering, impassable Hogwarts school. The first major battle of the First War had begun. A handful of Death Eaters stood off to the side, picking off at random the spectators as they ran headlong up the path. Lily saw this and was incensed.
“Stupefy!” yelled Lily.
After a seemingly endless period, Lily finally had a moment to catch her breath. She had certainly held her own, to her satisfaction; but she was lucky to have made it thus far with only a few shallow slashes on her arms and cheeks, and what promised to be a severe headache later on. She quickly laced her wounds to the best of her abilities, and then looked around to see where she could be of assistance. A darting mop of messy black hair caught her eye immediately. James was duelling a thick-limbed, red-haired Death Eater. Both of them were panting in their exhaustion, and neither looked as if he was making much headway in battle. As they straightened up to begin fighting again, Lily noticed that she was not the only one to gain an interest in James’ duel.
Voldemort remembers James! thought Lily, an arrow of fear piercing her heart as she pressed through the mass of wizards and witches engaged in battles to the death. I will never make it in time…
Luck then graced a rapidly tiring James. As he dodged yet another green burst of light, a fallen comrade glanced the back of the red-haired Death Eater, throwing him off-balance. A quick “Petrificus totalus!” from James incapacitated him. A second more and the Death Eater’s wand was snapped in two.
“Whew,” breathed James, relieved.
“Excellent work, Potter,” came a cold, high voice James had hoped he would never hear again. Immediately, his wand was back at eye level.
“Unfortunately for you,” Voldemort said, narrowing even more his slitted red eyes, “you have yet chosen the wrong side to pledge your allegiance. The losing side.”
James angrily shot a flaming blue whip at the Dark Lord.
“Tsk, tsk,” said Voldemort patronisingly, effortlessly sidestepping James’ hex. “You must learn respect for your superiors, James.”
His curse left James writhing and screaming in agony on the ground at his feet. Voldemort laughed cruelly.
“Funny, isn’t it?” he said softly. “Two members of the same family lost in the same, undignified manner, screaming like animals. Going to beg for your life now, James?”
“No,” James spat, blood dribbling from his lip as he pushed himself up laboriously from the ground.
“I don’t believe you’ll be rising from there again.” Voldemort’s mouth, twisted in a horrific smile, began to form the words that would end James’ life.
“No, you won’t!” Lily threw herself over James’ half-risen body, blocking him from Voldemort’s line of fire.
“Foolish Mudblood,” spat Voldemort. “I don’t have time for your heroism! Avada-”
A blurred black shape suddenly raced across Lily’s vision, blocking Voldemort from view.
“-Kedavra!”
The body fell heavily beside Lily. It was-
“No!” James’ howl was torn from his throat as Voldemort bellowed his displeasure at the betrayal of one of his own Death Eaters.
Voldemort raised his wand a second time, a most frightening shadow of fury covering his face, but Lily and James were spared from his wrath by the arrival of Dumbledore. A shocked Lily watched the two most powerful wizards in the world engage in a fierce battle before James’ desperate voice claimed her attention.
“Oh, God!” he moaned in a strangled voice, running a hand across his face and grasping his hair with both hands. “My father is dead!”
Lily crawled to him and held his head to her chest. She rocked him while the tears ran in torrents over his sweaty, dirt-streaked cheeks, his words flowing into each other until they were an indecipherable wail of anguish muted only slightly by Lily’s robes. Spells ricocheted dangerously off the rocks about them, but they did not see it.
“I am so sorry, James,” Lily said, tears of empathy filling her own eyes. She was at a loss for words; she knew only too well that there was nothing comforting she could possibly say to ease James’ suffering. Lily looked down into the wide-open eyes of James’ father. Though his robes were those of a follower of Voldemort, he had distinguished himself from every Death Eater on the battlefield. He had willingly given his life for his only son. He had failed to protect his daughter. It had tormented him to no end, Lily knew. Perhaps now, for himself, he had finally made some amends.
James pulled away from Lily suddenly. “I’m going to kill him,” he said calmly, then bolted to his feet, aiming for where Voldemort and Dumbledore were battling ferociously.
“James, NO!” Lily yelled loudly, catching him by the arm. “You’ll kill yourself! Stop it!”
“No,” he snarled, a reckless sort of anger taking hold of him. “I will kill that sodding bastard!” He tried to shrug her off, but Lily held on tightly.
“Let go of me, Lily!”
“No, I won’t! You must stop, James!” They were fighting each other tooth and nail, each of them flailing arms and legs, neither caring where their limbs connected.
“James!” came Sirius’ voice.
“Please help me!” cried a panicking Lily, on the verge of angry tears.
“What’s happened?” Sirius panted as he and Lily bodily restrained James.
“VOLDEMORT KILLED MY FATHER!” bellowed James. “I’LL KILL HIM!”
Sirius swore.
“No, you won’t, James. Listen to reason,” he said. “You’ll get yourself killed. No one 'cept Dumbledore stands a chance against Voldemort.”
“Please stop, James,” said Lily desperately, her tired muscles crying out against the strain of holding him back. “Your father died to protect you. Stop fighting us. I will Stun you.”
Her desperate tone rather than the threat halted James’ struggle. He sagged against them as if suddenly and completely drained of energy and willpower. His face was still wet with tears and blood. Just then, it began to rain.
Lily blinked the droplets out of her eyes and surveyed the grounds, littered with witches and wizards scuttling around like ants. All around them people were moaning as they died, shouting as they released a spell or were hit by one, wailing as they called out to slain friends.
“There are too many of them,” Lily said hopelessly.
“Where are the bloody Aurors?” interjected Sirius angrily.
As if answering Sirius’ call, the blue robes of countless Aurors flooded onto Hogwarts grounds, a veritable welling ocean of force.
“Finally,” muttered Sirius.
“James?” questioned Lily tentatively, turning her attention back to him.
“I’m all right, Lily,” he replied tonelessly. He straightened his shoulders and Sirius and Lily finally released his arms. “They still need our help.” Without a glance back at his father’s body, James launched himself into the fray. Lily and Sirius exchanged a wordless, worried glance, and then separated.
Various wizards and witches had halted their duels and were standing rooted to the spot, staring transfixed at the two titans locked in combat. However, with the arrival of the Aurors, the battles began anew. A few feet to Lily’s left, Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor, was exchanging spells wildly with his opponent. A jet of purple sent the professor sprawling. The Death Eater caught a glimpse of Lily.
“Care for a dance, poppet?” he grinned sinisterly.
Flaming anger ignited in Lily’s chest.
“Conglaco!” she shouted. A stream of water spouted from Lily’s wand to the Death Eater’s outstretched arm, crackling as it turned to rock-solid ice. Glacial torrents had soon encased the man’s entire body. Lily broke the wand from his icy fingers and ignited it with her own wand. The flames leapt rapidly toward her fingers and she tossed the burning strip of wood to the ground.
“Professor?” Lily whipped around, her eyes searching for the fallen professor. He was kneeling on the ground a short distance away.
“Miss Evans!” He called her over.
Lily knelt beside the professor and nearly jumped back in horror. The body was that of a sixth year Ravenclaw student, Richard Emrich. His leg had been sliced, the bone cleanly cleaved in two. The ground was covered in dark, wet blood that the rain was diluting into the surrounding grass. A quiet trickle dripped from the stump of Richard’s leg.
“Please transport Mr. Emrich to the hospital wing,” wheezed the professor, working quickly to bandage Richard’s leg. “You must hurry. He hasn’t much time.” Professor Kettleburn conjured a floating stretcher and levitated the ashen-faced Ravenclaw onto it.
“Go quickly. I’m needed here.”
Lily ran as fast as her tired legs could take her, concentrating on training her wand on the stretcher floating before her and nothing else. The acknowledgement of the cries as their owners lay dying on the ground would be her undoing.
“Madam Pomfrey!” she gasped as she burst through the open doors of the hospital wing.
The wing was bustling with the noise of patients and students aiding the nurse. It reeked of blood. Madam Pomfrey detached herself distractedly from a patient’s bedside and rushed to Emrich’s levitating cot.
“Oh dear,” she muttered as she quickly looked him over. “Set him down over there, Miss Evans.”
“Is there anything I can do?” asked Lily anxiously, clutching at a chest that was gasping in searing breaths of air.
“No, no, Healers from St. Mungo’s are on their way. They should be arriving any time now. However, you can bring me the wounded from the grounds, Miss Evans. Trot!”
“I’ll go with you, Lily!” called Peter Pettigrew, emerging from the crowd.
“I just brought Hooper in,” panted Peter as he and Lily raced through the corridors. “Broken ribcage.”
In the same moment that Lily and Peter flew into the entrance hall, the huge wooden doors opened inward. Peter instinctively grabbed a fistful of Lily’s robes and pulled her after him into the shadows behind the nearest tapestry. They stood unmoving in the dark, their laboured breathing effortfully muffled, Peter’s hand still resting on Lily’s arm, both of them straining their ears to recognise the voices.
“I need you to do it now,” they heard Lord Voldemort say. “Mulciber and Nott are already stationed at the Ministry. Go; bring him here. Time is of the essence. You know the consequences, should you fail.”
“Yes, Master,” at least two meek voices answered immediately. Among the quick scuttling of footsteps, another voice asked, “Master, what about Dumbledore?”
“I have sent a rather…giant distraction for him,” replied Voldemort, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face. “Now leave!” There was a clap of footsteps as the man hurried to oblige his master.
Peter and Lily watched from a tiny opening in the tapestry as Lord Voldemort strode briskly down the corridor, both of them hardly daring to move or breathe too loudly. When he was out of sight, Lily whispered to Peter, “Let’s follow him.”
“No,” he said in a panicked sort of voice, tightening his grip on Lily’s arm, causing her to squirm uncomfortably. He released her, apologizing, but was not deterred. “We can’t just go racing after You-Know-You, Lily.”
“Well, we certainly cannot stand here doing nothing,” she whispered back vehemently.
“Oh!” Peter gasped excitedly. He rummaged around in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a slightly-rumpled piece of parchment. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
“Excellent,” exclaimed Lily, pulling on the tapestry to let in a little more light. Peter tilted the Marauder’s Map toward the light, and he and Lily both bent over it, searching for Lord Voldemort. They saw him pacing on the seventh floor before disappearing completely off the map.
“The Room of Requirement,” they said together.
“What d’you think he’s doing in there?” Peter wondered.
“We must go after him,” Lily said resolutely.
“Lily,” Peter cut in. “Think logically. We cannot possibly hope to out-duel Lord Voldemort. What do you think we can do to stop him?”
Lily gaped at him. In the months that she had been dating James, her previous ideas of all four Marauders had been nearly revolutionized, but Peter had been the one whose intelligence had not been updated in accordance with his behaviour. Against all of her stereotypes and expectations, Peter was turning out to be a clever fellow, albeit a slightly whiney, eager-to-please one. He wasn’t completely daft, and now more than ever his statements were making complete, undeniable sense.
“Yes, you’re right,” she said absently, thinking hard. “What should we do, then? Voldemort is obviously planning something horrific…Should we alert Professor Dumbledore? The Ministry is possibly going to be attacked, so they’ll be of no help…Should we send an owl? It may be too late-”
“He’s coming back,” said Peter suddenly, pocketing the map as Lily hastily released the tapestry, sending the pair of them plunging into darkness once more.
The tall, wooden doors to the entrance hall opened then, just as Voldemort rounded the corner, carrying a gleaming silver sword in his right hand. The grip of the sword encased glittering rubies the size of eggs. The three Death Eaters who had just entered were suspending between them a man Lily recognized as Charles Robards, the Ministry of Magic’s Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“Mr. Robards,” spoke Voldemort in a mock-gracious hiss, “it is a pleasure that you could be here.”
“What could you possibly want with me?” asked Robards coolly, though he was struggling to maintain his composure.
“You, sir, have been most improperly leaking some valuable information of mine to Albus Dumbledore and his bothersome Order of the Phoenix, have you not? That, my friend is unacceptable.”
“I thank you, Nott, Mulciber, Rosier, for bringing Mr. Robards to our little party,” said Voldemort. “You may leave us now. Ah, not you, Mr. Robards.”
Voldemort flicked his wand carelessly and Robards, no wand in sight, quickly flew to the Dark Lord as if connected to a puppeteer’s strings.
“You know, Mr. Robards, I do not take well to being subjugated by interference,” Lord Voldemort’s voice was low now, cruel and mocking. “You thought you could best me? No one deludes the Dark Lord Voldemort. Fear not; your death will not be in vain. It will serve a greater purpose.”
Voldemort had his back facing Lily and Peter, so they could not make out his next words very well. Peter leaned in closer to the gap in the tapestry.
“Have you…heard of…-crux…”
Charles Robards looked puzzled.
Voldemort held up the jewel-encrusted sword.
“This will be my advocate in accomplishing what no other man has ever dreamed of achieving.”
Lily was greatly bewildered by this declaration. How on earth could that sword, so small in the scheme of things, possibly help Lord Voldemort gain control over the entirety of Britain?
“Now, onto business,” said Voldemort, sneering humourlessly at the broken man at his feet.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Peter and Lily watched, horrified, as Charles Robards crumpled to the stone floor in the entrance hall. Almost immediately, Lord Voldemort began to wave his wand in a complicated, intricate pattern, fluidly moving the strip of wood in controlled loops and slashes through the air, tracing sequences that he alone could see. Through her shock, Lily tried to engrave every movement in her mind, but she could not follow the erratic patterns.
Swirling, colourful flashes of light that resembled the leaping Aurora Borealis, or brightly coloured matches being struck and then quickly blown out, accompanied the wand swishes. Voldemort’s mouth moved silently as he muttered a lengthy incantation unknown to Lily. After a full two minutes of spell casting and light flashing, Voldemort held the glistening sword, which hummed quietly for a moment as it vibrated, out in front of him, then released it. The sword flew up the staircase and out of sight.
Back to the Come and Go Room, Lily guessed.
With another flick of the wand, Charles Robards’ lifeless body was dragged across the stone floor behind Voldemort. Lord Voldemort flung open the doors and held up the secretary’s body to the crowd like a trophy before throwing it unceremoniously to the side like a rag doll. The doors thudded closed loudly, abruptly cutting off the image of a laughing Lord Voldemort.
Lily and Peter waited tensely for a moment before cautiously stepping out of their hiding place behind the tapestry.
“What the bleedin’ hell was that all about?” Peter burst out as he and Lily set out once more for the battlefield.
“I have no idea,” replied Lily, thoroughly mystified by Lord Voldemort’s strange behaviour.
“You mean you weren’t witnesses, then?” said Nott suddenly from behind them.
Peter and Lily turned, startled.
“Obliviate!” cried the Death Eater, then “Impedimenta!” Lily and Peter crumpled in a heap, tumbling helplessly downward before coming to a halt halfway down the slick stone staircase.
A/N: *“Drego morn!” was a traditional battle cry of the Men of the North in the First Age, as told in the Silmarillion, written by J.R.R. Tolkien. I wanted something extremely eccentric for Dumbledore, and this seemed to fit.
I also used JKR’s own description of Gryffindor’s sword. It’s almost exactly word for word out of The Chamber of Secrets, American paperback version, page 320.