Disclaimer: The information contained herein has been obtained from sources believed to be reliable. However, no warranty as to the accuracy, completeness or adequacy of such information is implied. Any resemblance to House, M.D. is purely intentional. Star Wars is owned by a mouse — not sure if I have to disclaim it, do animals even get ownership rights? MTRT is owned by SNL and is brought here because this is a gift fic and Shayde123 likes him. Rogan and Doryn are her awesome creations and I've taken them out for a spin, to make writing MTRT more bearable.

In this Chapter: Betty puts Crouch in time-out, Sirius and James are loopy, laundry tips are exchanged, Castle comes for a visit (along with like, half the Ministry), Matt the Radar Technician makes an appearance, there are muffins involved, and the Orb of Chaos suffers irreparable damage. Also, Remus is Mr. Cranky McGrumpypants, Pete is manipulative, and Voldemort gets a mention.

Four: Funerals, Still No Wedding

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The Potter household has never been a conventional one. It's actually rather odd in lots of ways. For example, it's weird in that nobody thinks anything of it when Lily vanishes with Sirius behind a closed door and when they open it, she's got Sirius mostly naked on a sofa and is straddling him, pinning him down with all her strength while he writhes and moans underneath her.

Instead, they take one look at the scene and quickly come to the conclusion that she could use their help.

"What are you doing?" James asks, swaying on the doorway. He is addressing the fireplace, though; his focus is kind of shot.

"Why don't you go to bed, sweetie?" his Mum asks, trying to get hold of one of the moving lumps crawling around under Sirius's skin. Sirius lets out a choked sort of moan, but somehow still manages to add a very shaky, "Yeah, go lie down, mate. I'll be right up. We'll… we'll play some— ow, dammit! Exploding Snap."

"You'll do no such thing, now stop moving," Nina chides, huffing as she tries to keep Sirius still. He ignores her, flashes James a grin. Or maybe it's a grimace, James can't tell. He's seeing two of everything.

"It'll be fun," Sirius squeaks. "We haven't played— ahh — Exploding— Exploding Snap in ages."

"Go, James," Lily tells him in her Healer voice, and what is she pulling out of Sirius's side? No matter how hard he squints, he can't make it out, but it looks like it hurts.

"But I just got up," he argues with a whine, which goes largely ignored: Nina is straddling Sirius, holding him down while Lily wields a jar full of quickly-darkening water, and his parents are both shining their wands up and down Sirius's back and sides, making these dark worm things jump into the jar. He walks forward unsteadily, trying to focus, but all he can see are double blurs, and Sirius's arm guard flashing red is all distracting.

"That's the last one, I think," says his Dad, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Let's get the rest of it sorted out before he wakes up."

James gives Lily a dazed smile as he gets ushered to sit down and his argument is shut down with a quick kiss.

"You look doubly nice tonight," he tells her, but the next moment the two of her are gone and he can hear her calling Andromeda over the Floo.

There's an eruption of noise that makes him cringe, as though someone just let a crowd into the house.

"It's bedlam here, don't bring him over," Andie's voice says loudly amid the chaos. "We're full up— here, give him this, and these, and this one wouldn't hurt."

"What happened?" Lily asks, catching bottle after bottle of potions and putting them in a basket. James hopes she won't have to go to St. Mungo's right now, but it begins to dawn on him that something maybe isn't quite right.

"That Doncaster raid, it was a disaster. We've got over fifty Hit Wizards and Aurors in various states of bashed-up in here," is the harassed answer. "You'll see in the morning. In the meantime, make sure you get all the Life-Eaters and seal him off using this."

The din cuts off, and Lily hurries back, carrying a basket full of clinking bottles and vials. He loves her when she takes action and bosses everyone around, and would she get terribly cross at him if he pointed out how gorgeous both of her look right now?

"Alright, here's what we'll do…"

James doesn't find out, though, because he's asleep the next moment.

.

.

Dawn brings with it the first easy breath Betty has been able to take in what feels like ages, welcoming the new day with a palette of gorgeous pinks and reds, birdsong… and a squadron of battered-looking Hit Wizards and Aurors, led by Tiberius Shacklebolt and Barty Crouch.

"What are you doing here?" Betty Potter demands. The nerve of him! She has no love for Barty, hasn't for years, and she'll do her damnedest not to let him at her lads. They just finished changing their dressings!

"Did he come here?" Shacklebolt asks her urgently for a greeting, lowering his hood as he steps into the house. There is a large dressing over his bald pate, and he looks like he could use some tea. Or better yet, a week's worth of rest. "Please tell me he's here."

"He's asleep," she informs them shortly, but allows them to troop inside and directs them to the family room. Shacklebolt takes one look at Sirius, and orders Castle to come here. One of the Aurors jumps to it, gone with a BANG the instant she clears the anti-apparition wards outside.

"Tiberius, can't this wait?" Coop asks the burly wizard, but he only shakes his head, a grim expression on his face.

"What happened?"

"It's classified," Crouch mutters. Out of them all, he is the only one immaculately dressed and combed; the other twelve witches and wizards look worse than Sirius did when he came home.

Betty takes pity on them and puts them all up in the large sitting room while they wait, has Dinky serve them all tea and coffee while Hinky cobbles together a pile of sandwiches they inhale exactly like her boys usually do, while Lily looks them over for injuries. She sends another elf, Blinky, to get some jars a moment later.

When Grigori Castle arrives, his Healer's bag in hand, the scene has changed yet again and Godric's Hall has been turned into a makeshift hospital, and everyone pitches in to help. Except, as usual, Barty. He only glares at them as though they're wasting his time.

"What's this, then?" asks Castle, taking in the scene— passed-out witches and wizards everywhere, over thirty jars with dying leeches in them, and a furious Crouch insisting it can wait, it can all wait… from the corner he was directed to when Betty had enough of him. "Are we branching out into the country? Lovely."

Lily launches into a quick explanation of what she's found— only to be interrupted, yet again, by Barty.

"Wake him up," he snaps, gesturing at Sirius, who is fast asleep despite the chaos around him. "If he hasn't got it—"

"Hasn't got what?" Betty asks irritably. It's bad enough that this wizard barges in on the place where he's least welcome, now he's also disrupting Sirius's sleep?

"That's classified," is the infuriating answer.

"Well, you can't just come in here and—"

"All right, he's awake. Not sure what you can get out of him, though," Castle informs with a smirk. "Healer Evans gave him all the fun potions." He winks conspiratorially at Lily, who laughs and waves him over to help patch up a cut as nasty as the one they just closed on Sirius… who is sitting up groggily, supported by Coop.

"What did I miss?" he asks, looking around, bleary and curious. "Is St. Mungo's branching out?"

Grigori Castle lets out a chuckle, "I asked the same thing! No, no, Evans— the way you're doing it gives her too much free movement. Do this instead." There's a sharp intake of breath, and they all turn to look at the Healer, who is single-handedly pinning down a Hit Witch and ushering a leech out from her shoulder. "See? Much more effective."

"The Chaos Orb, where is it?" Crouch took advantage of the distraction to bear down on Sirius, who blinks up at him, unfazed. "It vanished from the scene. Tell me you have it, Black."

Sirius thinks about it, then gives him a lazy sort of smile. Whatever Lily gave him, at least he's not having a wobble because Crouch is here at all. He likes him even less than Betty does.

"Chill, C-man, it's in my pocket," he slurs placidly, looks around the room, then down at himself, a bit perplexed when he realises he's almost fully undressed. "Where's my pocket?" he asks, "and, and all the… stuff that goes with it?"

"What stuff?" asks Nina, who is now suddenly sitting next to Sirius and giving Crouch a warning look.

"Y'know, the… the stuff that goes around it." Sirius gestures vaguely in midair. "Holds the pocket up, like… goes. With it."

They all stare at Sirius in stunned silence, but he is looking at Nina for help. The next moment, everyone's eyes are on her. She shakes her head at them, completely lost.

"Oh!" she says at last, catching on. "You mean, your clothes?" she asks Sirius, and Betty has to giggle under her breath. Sirius's face lights up.

"Yeah, that's the word." He makes to sit up again. Nina shakes her head, lies him back down. Still, he looks at Crouch with an accomplished sort of expression. "It's in my clothes."

"And where are those?" Barty asks shortly.

"I don't know," Sirius replies easily, now snuggling up to Nina. "You'll have to… ask my mum."

What did he just say?!

"That's me!" Betty exclaims brightly, and though she can see Coop bite back a laugh, she can't bring herself to care. Take that, you damned old hag, he just called me mum! Me! "I'm his mum!"

"We heard," Tiberius tells her in his deep baritone. "We know." As they should. Betty can see his eyes are dancing, and it's not mocking.

"His clothes, ma'am?" Caradoc asks politely a moment later.

"You're not taking him to go fight again," Betty informs them shortly. "Are you insane? Look at the state of him! Look at the state of you!"

"They just want the robes I came in with," Sirius slurs against Nina.

"Oh, those rags," Betty replies with distaste. "I put them in the wash, Pumpkin, but I fear we'll have to get you new ones."

"In the wash?!" Tiberius and Barty chorus, as scandalised as Betty was herself a moment ago.

"Pumpkin?!" Caradoc and Mordecai chorus at the same time.

Sirius just looks at her with fascination, a grin slowly spreading on his face. She loves it when he smiles. He should do that more often.

"What's my pocket doing in the wash?" he slurs out after a moment.

"Well ," Betty tells him kindly, "did you think your clothes just magically appear in your wardrobe washed and pressed and ready to go?

"… Yyyes?" Sirius ventures after a moment's consideration.

"They don't, Pumpkin." She relishes the look of surprise on his face. For all that they are amazingly capable, both he and James are painfully oblivious to some of the finer aspects of life. Betty sort of pities their wives-to-be (because of course Sirius will marry Nina, she's on tenterhooks waiting for that announcement), because they'll have this to deal with in the future.

"Then how…?" Sirius wonders, an earnestly confused frown on his face.

"I wash them, mend them, press them, then put them in your wardrobe so they're ready for you," she explains patiently, then turns sternly at the invading wizards still staring at her like she's out of her mind. "Of course, in the wash. Hinky and Dinky must be cleaning them now."

"What?!"

"Well, it's not like we have endless uniforms for him, do we?" Betty sniffles, her nose turned up at Shacklebolt. "Have you seen how my lad comes back, every time? On your orders? Just making sure he can get ready for work every day is a full time job."

"Er…" Tiberius raises his hands placatingly, and Betty is fiercely aware of how nervous he looks. Barty, on the other hand, is a heartless thug.

"Get the Magical Equipment Control Squadron over here," he orders.

"But not Matt," Sirius slurs. "I don't like Matt. Bring the mute kid and the bald one, and the annoying chick, if you must. But Matt's a bit of a bastard." He leans heavily against Nina, who covers him with a blanket. Sirius snuggles against her. "I really don't like Matt."

"Why?" Nina asks him. "He seems nice enough."

"He's like, a dark overlord in disguise," Sirius answers in the loudest whisper in creation, just as the Magical Equipment Control Squadron arrives. Betty can see a young lad nodding at them, a bald wizard in grey robes who can't be much older than her boys, and a blond one, with large specs and a wisp of a moustache, wearing Muggle coveralls and a violently orange tool vest, who just stares at them. Sirius squints at him, then adds, "I swear, he reminds me of Darth Vader."

"'Sup, Sirius?" asks the bald wizard, and the younger one of them gestures at him in greeting.

The wizard in the coveralls gives Sirius and James a scowl, but then he says, "Hi. I'm Matt. A radar technician."

"What's a radar technician?" Coop wants to know.

"Someone entirely unnecessary in our world," James supplies. "He's supposed to fix radars."

"It's a thing that goes beep when it finds stuff," Sirius adds, when Coop and Betty herself are giving James identical confused looks, "but he doesn't do it well, because it's constantly breaking down."

Matt just glowers darkly at them after that.

"So, where's the Orb of Chaos, then?"

"In the washer."

The mute wizard, whom Shacklebolt introduces as Rogan, lets out a soundless guffaw. Doryn, the bald one, shakes his head at Sirius.

"Dude…" he chuckles, "when we heard you'd snatched the thing and never made it back to Headquarters, we thought you'd gotten taken."

"I meant to go to Headquarters," Sirius replies. "I just somehow landed here instead."

Rogan begins to make a series of complicated-looking gestures with his hands, and Sirius blushes to the roots of his hair.

"He says, 'Pumpkin ran to mummy'," Doryn chortles.

"Yeah, I caught that," Sirius tells him, nettled, but it's lost in the gale of laughter around him. "Just… go get the Orb before the spin cycle starts," Sirius suggests, somehow managing to make himself heard. That gets them in motion, and Betty lets Coop lead them to their — now potentially deadly — laundry room. She wonders briefly if she ought to tell the DMLE that it usually is potentially deadly whenever Sirius's or James's laundry is involved. Always has been, and it's not a cause for concern.

Then she takes one look at Barty — who is now wearing a white sheet-type thing with a little visor on it that makes him look like one of those colonial witch burning types— and decides against it. Instead, she asks Blinky to make a snack for everyone — Sirius and Nina suggest muffins, then fall about laughing— and asks Hinky to snap some pictures of Crouch to cheer her up later.

She is both awed and a little intimidated by the sudden deployment— it seems as though every Hit Wizard who wasn't at the raid is suddenly trooping through her house, and they don't come alone; there's scores of Medi-Wizards around, Aurors arguing over Portkey coordinates, or wielding glass spheres and permanent markers, nurses taking vital signs… and through it all, the Magical Equipment Control Squadron are shouting at each other somewhere in the laundry room below.

"Watch it— get it out gently!" an imperious voice shouts, and Sirius rolls his eyes. "Gently, Rogan! Are you deaf as well as dumb— hey!" There's some thumping and cursing, then— "That's my wrench!"

"Ha ha ha, Rogan! Good one maaaaate," Doryn's thick Cockney rings out a moment later. "Do get it gently, though."

There's a pause, then—

"No, Matt! If you want to get the Restraining Net right, you need to reverse the Filament Charm— Rogan's trying to tell you! The way you're doing it, you'll drop the bloody Orb and this entire place will blow up!"

"Which one is that?" Matt, Betty decides, doesn't sound as imperious as before, as she makes sure James is comfortable on one of the sofas.

"The same one we've been pointing at for ten minutes! Hurry up, there were muffins up there. I haven't had any, Matt! Where's the retainer… the grabby thing? Where's the grabby thing, Matt?"

"I don't know, but can you please stop yelling at me? You're starting to stress me out."

"Rogan says he hasn't had his muffin, either. And he gets cranky if he doesn't get to have his muffin. Don't you want him to have his muffin, Matt?"

"I'm trying, geez."

"Can you please hurry up so I can go have my muffin?" This makes James and Sirius chuckle. "I haven't had my muffin yet, Matt!" This makes them crack up.

"I told you I didn't want Matt," Sirius tells Shacklebolt conversationally, but all he gets for an answer is a pained grunt. Shacklebolt, too, is getting treated for Life-Eaters by an exceedingly cheerful Healer Castle, who is now holding bets as to how many Life-Eaters he can extract in under a minute, while at the same time competing against Lily and two Medi-Wizards who were sent to help.

"And that's all for this one, today," Castle establishes, wiping his hands on a steaming towel and gesturing at the passed-out bunch around him. "I'll need some Portkeys to get this lot to St. Mungo's. Evans, pack up. You're coming with me."

"But— but, does she have to, Grigori?" To Betty's surprise, James is now slurring out his argument. He's been watching the goings-on around him with the same dazed sort of curiosity he's had since he woke up earlier. To no-one's surprise, he seems to lose his train of thought right after.

"I know, right?" Castle asks sarcastically, "I don't like it either. I mean hospitals are disgusting— full of sick, moaning people. Then again—" He looks around the room and shudders exaggeratedly, then makes a show of watching Lily closely over her shoulder as she kisses James goodbye. "Crack on, Evans. Lots to do, lives to save, infections to catch."

"I'll be back soon," Lily promises, then gives Castle a sideways glance. "I thought you didn't like saving lives?"

"I became a Healer to treat illnesses. Saving lives is more like collateral damage, but I've gotten used to it," Castle replies, just as there's a boom from the basement that makes the house rattle and shake, and Sirius and James leap up from their seats, wands in hand. Betty waves her own to make them lie down again. Castle gives her an appreciative look.

"Mind you… with this bunch, I have to wonder why I bother. Fix them today, they're back again tomorrow with something worse. Come on, Evans, let's get out of here before the lot downstairs start screaming for help," he prompts, tossing her a Portkey.

Patients and Healers vanish not a minute later, leaving a smattering of debris, empty jars, and random bits of discarded clothing behind. A group of Aurors immediately begins cleaning everything up, labelling it all and keeping detailed records.

When the Magical Equipment Control Squad and a dozen Hit Wizards return, they look slightly… scandalised.

"Any luck? Or did you misplace your wrench again?" Sirius asks, when Matt emerges, his hair on end and looking a bit singed. He is not the only one, Betty notes. Coop climbs up after them, winks at her with a grin, though, and that's enough for her to breathe easily.

"Some of the plagues are… gone!" Barty snaps at Sirius, as though it's his fault.

"What do you mean, gone, Clan brother Crouch?"

"Gone! Gone!" Barty yells, ignoring him. "Obliterated, rendered completely ineffective!"

"That's not so bad, though, is it?" James wants to know. He and Sirius exchange a look — Betty finds them adorable when they do that — and they both shrug, then turn back to stare at Crouch expectantly.

"If there's no plagues or curses, the Dark Side can't use them, right? I'd say it's a win-win. And the Orb doesn't even smell like one of Peter's farts anymore," Sirius adds logically, and James laughs.

"Still, mate," Doryn says, holding a muffin in one hand, a glowing glass case with a revolving metallic sphere in the other, "I'd never have thought this thing wouldn't go off in a washer— is that dope or what?" he and the younger wizard approach James and Sirius to show them the Orb.

"Ha ha ha," Sirius chortles. "It shrunk!" The mute kid is clearly laughing. He gives Sirius a fist-bump, grinning. "No, honest— it's at least half as big as it used to be."

"What do you use, Mrs. Potter?" Matt asks, thumbs hooked in his orange tool vest. He makes even that question sound accusing.

"Have you seen how my lads come back from work every day?" Betty huffs. "I use the strong detergent, not the namby-pamby commercial stuff. And I also use… this." Betty summons a vial of her most prized laundry potion. "We came up with it a while back," she informs the curious wizards. "It takes care of most curses, viruses, bacteria, jinxes, and hexes that linger on their robes, not to mention blood and oil stains, and it leaves everything smelling heavenly."

"Like freshly-cut hay," James croons.

"Like a spring breeze on a patch of iris," Sirius supplies.

"Like a bough of citronella," Coop says dreamily.

"Don't look so surprised," Betty chides the perplexed wizards staring at her. "Sometimes the boys come back downright toxic."

"Your mother," Matt tells Sirius dramatically, "obliterated half the curses and plagues in the Orb of Chaos! In the wash!"

Sirius grins, gives them an unfocused stare.

"Yeah. She's that good," he states proudly. "Don't look so sour, Matt. So it's the Orb-of-Not-Quite-So-Much-Chaos-Anymore-But-Never-Mind. It's not as if you wanted to use any of those curses, now did you?" As an afterthought, he adds, "I think it's best kept out of your hands. And stay away from our light sabers."

.

.

Nightfall finds them bundled up warmly on the veranda, where their Mum put them so she could make dinner in peace. Castle — and Andromeda, who popped by earlier — were quite… vigorous in their insistence for his and Sirius's bedrest, and had, of course, gone ignored. James's defence is that, if they're just hanging out, it should count as rest.

"So," he states. "Regulus."

"Yep." Sirius throws his head back to stare at the moonless sky, his expression drawn.

They've both gotten an extended leave of absence, but James isn't fooled by what their letters said, that it is because the Ministry cares about their health and they're getting however long they need to fully recover. They don't need an entire fortnight, do they?

James is feeling much better after a good sleep, and he can tell Sirius, who lives wrapped in bandages on pretty much a daily basis, is already bored with the enforced rest… and rather annoyed with the Ministry to boot.

Those quill pushers wasted no time serving him with an enquiry, because Crouch allegedly believes he took the bloody Orb of Chaos during the raid to use it himself — or to give it to Voldemort, of all things, when he'd just spent weeks trying to get it from him. So it's not only ridiculous, it's also just another attempt to discredit him.

It's completely unfounded and even without the Memory Orbs and statements under Veritaserum it already isn't holding up, but regardless what James has to say on the matter, old man Crouch has gone ahead with it. It'll be fruitless, too, but the bloke is nothing if not adamant on convincing the public that Sirius is as bad as his father, and, now it's out at last, Regulus.

Their Dad advised them to let Crouch just run his mouth off and crush him where he'll make the worst fool of himself— and though Sirius doesn't seem to be losing any sleep over it, he does find it irritating. James is tempted to go punch the bastard on the nose.

"What made you let your guard down?" Sirius wants to know. There is no accusation in his tone, but James inwardly cringes regardless.

"I was…" he shrugs helplessly. "I wanted to see if he really was that far gone, you know... benefit of the doubt?"

"Curiosity, cat." Sirius takes a sip of his Muggle beer, and James does the same, smiling ruefully.

"How did you get us out of it?" he asks.

"Played for time." Upon noticing James's enquiring look, Sirius adds, "Reggie said Voldemort wanted my head, so I told him he was welcome to it. He, um…" he takes another swig of his beer. "Target practice."

"What?!" James erupts. "What the fuck were you thinking?" Sirius shrugs one shoulder.

"I was thinking I couldn't get you out of there and duel him at the same time," he admits. "I had to keep him distracted, give Nina time to return with backup."

"So letting your Death Eater brother use you as a pinata was the best you could come up with?"

"I was curious too." Sirius gives him a lopsided smirk. "You know, testing a theory. Proving a point."

"By letting your brother kill you?"

"I did use a Deflection Shield," Sirius points out. "That's one more shield than you used." James ignores the teasing.

"That's not nearly enough—"

"It was." Sirius snorts, but James doesn't miss the bitterness behind it.

"What's funny?"

"The only curses there are no shielding spells against are the Unforgivable Curses," he replies. "If he had wanted to kill me, he could've used one of those. He didn't."

"Your entire strategy hinged on him being bad at killing? On him not using any Unforgivables?"

"They're based on intent."

"Well, that clears it up," James retorts mockingly.

"Yep. He's a lousy Death Eater." Sirius's bottle is now empty. He transfigures it into a miniature gargoyle that starts fluttering around their heads, like a stone moth. "He's never had the stomach for murder."

"Oh God, just the way you said that is wrong on so many levels—"

Sirius shrugs one shoulder. "Lousy Death Eater."

"What if he had used an Unforgivable?"

"I'd have moved, of course," Sirius answers drolly. "Let it hit you instead."

"You're such an arse."

"You're welcome. And you should have been wearing your Rebounding Vest. I swear, James." Sirius shakes his head. "Why spend days, nay, weeks on end, coming up with all sorts of spy shit when you won't even use it?"

"I forgot it in my room."

"I should've gotten you a Remembrall for Christmas."

"I was preoccupied!" James exclaims. "That dinner was a disaster, thanks to you. Lily hasn't even forgiven you yet, and—"

"And they're coming by on Saturday, aren't they?"

"Sunday," James corrects nervously. "That's in four days—"

"That's barely enough time to prepare," his brother interrupts cheerfully. "Come on, we've got a map to make."

"A map? Whatever for?"

"You're not thinking of apparating your future in-laws here?" Sirius sounds mildly curious. "No Portkeys, either. Those will make them dizzy and puky and then they'll hate you. And if we Floo them over, there's a high chance of them toppling out the wrong grate. And then they'll hate you."

"Driving all the way here will take them ages, and then they'll hate me," James argues, but he does get up, with more grace than Sirius, it might be added.

"But it's what Muggles do. If they want to be here quick, they can always ask Lily for a side-along apparition, which they haven't since she got her licence," Sirius points out, leaning heavily on the veranda's stone railing. James wonders if he's about to topple over. He also wonders how he keeps track of that stuff, but he implicitly trusts him in that regard.

"So," Sirius carries on logically, sliding the glass door open with the overall elegance of a rheumatoid granny, "I bet you ten G's they'll drive. Which will give Vermin the chance to show off his new ride," he adds, an evil grin spreading on his face.

"I could rent one of Fletcher's flying carriages," James offers, but Sirius gives him that look and he doesn't pursue it further.

"Let them drive, Prongs. Pleeeease."

And how can he say no?

.

.

A couple of days later, James and his friends drop the map off at the Evans family home before they make their collective way to St. Barnabas's Cemetery for the Magical Community.

The memorial service and ensuing funerals don't exactly fly by, and James is plain exhausted after the first two, but they stay until the end regardless, surrounded by equally careworn Hit Wizards and their loved ones. There aren't many of those; most of them have no family left but each other.

James has always admired them for their duelling skills, their recklessness that exceeds even his own. It's times like these, though, that he remembers they are no different from him and Nina, or even Lily — this war has torn apart their dreams (professional Quidditch, for him and Sirius, a career in Healing for Nina, a life as a magical artist for Lily) and replaced them with need.

They each have a reason for choosing the path they did, but the Hit Wizards share one thing: A loss so great, it pushed them into choosing the riskiest of paths, often also the shortest one. Like Sirius says, "it's sort of deadly peril all the time, with a sudden stop at the end." They — none of them — care about dying, as long as it means stopping Voldemort.

That doesn't mean they don't care about each other. The sadness prevailing in the funeral parlour is genuine, the eulogies heartfelt and offered by dozens of people. No matter who or what they've lost along the way, the Hit Wizards are nothing but a tight-knit family, bonded by something that isn't blood.

They mourn their fallen, honour them, add them to the long, ever-growing list of lost loved ones and become even grimmer, deadlier, as a result.

.

.

They decide to have lunch near Picadilly Circus after the wake, to cheer Sirius up. Not that one lunch will be enough to make his mood turn around — but James is pretty sure there'll be some in-flight entertainment: he knows Sirius is itching for a fight, because he, too, would welcome one with open arms.

None of them knew Atwood, Thyme, Brown or Ferguson very well, but Sirius did, and though he sucks it up and keeps it together remarkably well, James knows him better than he does himself. Sirius is heartbroken; has been, since he got the news. With the war keeping them constantly on their toes, they don't have the luxury of stopping everything to be sad about it all, and fighting back is often the only way to deal with pent-up emotions.

They choose a coffee house near the thoroughfare, which has the right amount of bustle that's ideal to keep Sirius distracted— James knows it's the hundreds of sounds invading his ears, the snatches of conversations he can't but listen in on, the myriad scents his nose can't help but pick up and sift through, looking for any indication of Dark Magic.

He is the same in that regard, after all.

"Dammit," they both mutter in unison, but they're excited as they leap to their feet before their triple espressos have even arrived at their table and look towards the source of the disturbance: a slight tremor under their feet, a faint, yet unmistakable whiff of Eau de Lestrange.

"You shield," Sirius tells Lily and Nina.

"We smash," James concurs.

"I'll open you a tab," Lily supplies, as Nina begins to forcibly evacuate the street.

The next instant, the pedestrians are enveloped in a glowing blue goo and the street is rocked by a blast. James's ears are filled with panicked screams as they're all plunged into a thick cloud of dust.

Business as usual, as it were.

At least, he thinks sardonically, as his best mate yanks a Death Eater back by his foot before he can apparate away and slams him into the other three, Sirius is suitably distracted. He's never been good at being a misery guts.

.

.

Afterwards, they let let Frank and Alice take the two unlucky Death Eaters they caught to Azkaban.

"Aren't you supposed to be off-duty?" Alice asks them, getting four shrugs in return.

"Tell them that," Sirius mutters, clapping the Death Eaters in irons after pulling their masks off their faces. It's two kids, again. Sirius's cousins, the Pilliwickles. He snorts derisively, tossing their silver masks on the ground.

"Don't forget about our get-together," Frank tells James, shaking his hand before they leave, turns to catch the Memory Orb Sirius just aimed at his head. "It's in the Merse, at four."

"We'll be there," James confirms, checking his watch. They have just enough time for a shower. "C'mon, let's go get ready."

"I've got this thing," Sirius tells him, checking his own watch. "You drop the girls off, there's a lad." He's gone with a whoosh before any of them can ask.

.

.

At four on the dot, James, Nina and Lily are freshly-showered and standing in a deserted street in the tiny town. Angus opens the door for them, asks the customary security questions, one of which seems to be, "Where is Sirius, then?"

"He said he'd be here," Nina tells her uncle, gives him a kiss on the cheek.

The Order of the Phoenix is comprised of twenty-odd witches and wizards, all of whom are grim-faced today. Dumbledore in particular seems to have aged a decade, and soon James feels about a hundred years old as well: not one of the things they have to discuss is remotely encouraging. To judge by the things they're all covering, from the rise in disappearances, the wave of Muggle Baiting, the increase of explosions that keep getting blamed on gas leaks from the sewer system, that tragic raid that put the Orb of Chaos in the Ministry's hands is just about the best news there is to be had.

It's almost six when there is a sharp series of rap-tap-tap-taps on the door, making them all jump up from their seats.

"Where have you been?" Remus snaps, his wand aimed between Sirius's eyes. James takes a moment to wonder the same, though. Sirius's robes have a decidedly singed look about them, and there is a long rip down his side, which lets him see his Muggle jeans and shirt aren't any better off.

"That's not how it works," Sirius corrects. "You're supposed to ask me something you know."

"When did you shave off my eyebrows the first time?" Remus snarls.

"It was just the one eyebrow, actually," Sirius answers. "January first, nineteen seventy-five. I was tempted to do the other, but you woke up all bitchy."

There's a generalised chuckle at this, and Remus reluctantly lowers his wand.

"I do love Greenlaw," Sirius comments sardonically. "Very picturesque."

"You're late." Remus glowers at him. Sirius snorts, shrugs.

"You'd think that, being a super-secret organisation, we'd meet at a more crowded place? Just by being here, we doubled the bloody population. It's bound to draw attention."

"Meeting was scheduled at four," Peter chimes up. Sirius cuts a grimace at him.

"I told you. Frank reminded you," Remus mutters.

"Don't tell me I missed anything, Moony." Sirius shoves his hands into his pockets, extracts a bag of violently blue gobstoppers and pops one into his mouth.

"Why didn't you come in with James and the others?" Caradoc wants to know, and next to him, Benjy and Dorcas gesture for him to share his candy.

"I had a thing," Sirius replies lightly, snaps his fingers to summon himself a cuppa. "And there was so much traffic up the A697. Just dreadful. I should've taken the A1."

"So your thing couldn't wait, could it."

"Now you mention it, maybe it could have." Sirius stares at him. James can all but see both their hackles rising. "I just didn't feel like listening to a recap of all our bloody losses this week. Or are you going to tell me all you've covered so far hasn't been the Doncaster Raid, bickering about what to do with the Orb, the twenty-five so-called gas explosions, and muttering about this week's death toll, disappearances, and Muggle Baiting?"

"Er."

"That's what I thought." Sirius throws his legs on the table, takes a sip of his tea and gestures at the air. "Continue."

"We were waiting for you to report," Dumbledore says sternly. "You're the one who captured the Orb of—"

"Orb-of-Not-Quite-So-Much-Chaos-Anymore-But-Never-Mind." Sirius supplies helpfully, earns himself a smattering of laughs. "No, really. It's the official name now it got half obliterated by the Potter's laundry system."

"Whatever the case," McGonagall tells him, her lips a thin line. "We need your input on how you got it."

"What you heard is what happened," Sirius answers offhandedly. "Voldemort was on fire, I tossed Rasmus on top of him and snatched the thing. It was over pretty quick afterwards."

James is quite sure he hasn't heard that version of events,and he's insanely curious to hear the rest of it— as is everyone else.

"But is it true you nicked it?" Peter wants to know, extending his hand for a piece of candy. Sirius tosses a large one at him.

"I didn't nick it, Pete, don't be daft—"

"They all thought you did," Peter argues. Crunch.

"So I got my apparition mixed up," Sirius explains, the slightest hint of remorse on his face. "I was tired."

"You were barely on your feet, you mean," James hears their mum say. "It's natural you'd apparate home."

"Don't you know it, Mrs. P." He flashes her a smile a resigned sort of shrug. "The eggmen aren't as understanding, though."

"But the enquiry—"

"Has been proven unfounded," Sirius tosses a scroll at Peter, and they all scramble to read the Ministry's official apology for wasting Sirius's time, while loud crunching makes it to their ears. "I'm not to confiscate any more items that can be potentially world-destroying for at least three days, though."

"You're suspended for three days, that's what it says here."

"Potayto, potato," Sirius replies, crunching down on yet another candy.

"Will you stop that?" Remus snaps. Sirius aims a very obnoxious, very blue-toothed grin at him.

"It's impossible to just suck them," he argues, swallows, pops another gobstopper into his mouth. "More important is," he adds, crunching the candy loudly, "the Dark Side has been targeting Muggles again…"

"That's not exactly news, genius," Remus grouses. "That's what the war is all about."

"Stop your griping, Grumpycakes," Sirius replies. "I meant, Muggles who are parents of Muggleborn witches and wizards. Just earlier, three homes were hit. One in Wimbledon, one in Wight, and one in Cokeworth, which just did away with my theory that they're going down the A-Z atlas to pick their targets."

"My—" Lily gasps, and James lets out a yelp. His arm is suddenly in a death grip.

"They're alright," Sirius assures her. "They're all alright, but we should start relocating them."

"What, all of them?" asks Emmeline, her eyes wide.

"Got any better ideas?" Sirius asks impatiently. "We're at half-strength right now, everybody's exhausted babysitting the Muggles we know are being targeted, and fighting the war on top. There's no way we can keep protecting them all, there's over three thousand couples all over the country— that we know of."

"Well, the ones with Muggleborn children are considerably less," Dumbledore argues fairly.

"Because half of them have been killed off," says Angus fairly. Everyone turns to him, and he shrugs, holding out a hand for a piece of candy. "I'm sorry, but he's right. Between the disappearances, which stand at seven hundred seventy-five—"

"Eighty-three," Frank corrects worriedly. "As of this afternoon."

"Seven hundred and eighty-three," Angus amends, "and the increasing number of attacks on Muggles with magical children…" he looks expectantly at Sirius.

"Two hundred and eleven, as of twenty minutes ago."

"We've got to do something."

"And more kids are born every day," Sirius throws in. "The family in Wight has a three-year-old, not even they knew he's magical. They got a bit of a scare when Mulciber grabbed him and got blasted across the room." Sirius smirks, catches the Memory Orb Frank unearthed from his pocket. "Now, I have no definite proof as to how the Death Eaters are doing it, but they know who's got magic before even the parents do."

This, of course, makes a babble break out. Everyone, from Tiberius Shacklebolt to Dumbledore himself, are now discussing ways in which the Dark Side could have gotten access to that sort of information.

Sirius, though, just shrugs and tells them, "It's obvious, isn't it?"

"How are they doing it?" Alice wants to know.

"They somehow got their paws on the Hogwarts book, haven't they?" is the answer. "They either nicked it or made a copy, unless there's another magical book and quill that records all the magical kids in the country?"

"If it hasn't been stolen, check it for Protean Charms— something is telling the Dark Side where to look," James muses. "And I bet they're not just looking at the next generation of First Years, Professor."

McGonagall suddenly goes very, very pale. Sirius, though, is onto something else already.

"Here, Lils. I went to look around, saw this place. Your parents might like it—" he hands Lily a few leaflets.

"You sure they're all right?"

"Or my name isn't Barkolomew."

"But… this is in Swansea," Lily protests at once.

"Yes. Lovely." Sirius smiles widely at her. "It's a nice little cottage near the sea and everything."

"But what about their jobs? They can't just up and leave!"

"They can't stay, though. Either tell them about the war and have them go into hiding, or move them. That gas leak just took out their kitchen, though, so they'll be staying the night at a hotel."

"At a hotel?"

"It's… more of a B&B," Sirius revises. "Didn't know they charge by the hour for those. Mind you, there were many naughty-looking girls there."

Lily gives him a very unimpressed look. Next to her, Nina is practising her death glare.

"You put up my parents at a motel?"

"No wonder they were trying to disinfect everything." Lily stares at him as though he's got his tail on. Sirius stares back, his eyes dancing with amusement, mouth working through yet another gobstopper.

Crunch. Crunch.

"They can't stay at a motel, Sirius." Lily's tone is something that would usually have made James run for the (dubious at best) safety of his dormitory. Sirius, though, doesn't care.

"Which is why this is the perfect chance for James to gallantly save the day. I already sent them a letter from you," Sirius gives James a wink, "inviting them over to stay at Godric's Hall until the whole bother with the gas leak is sorted."

"What?" James gasps. "At my place?"

"Why not? Easiest way to keep an eye on them, isn't it?" Sirius takes the chance to aim a ball of candy into James's open mouth. "And that's ten points to Gryffindor."

.

.

TBC, in the meantime…

I'm pondering the use of the "Next Up" section, because I never seem to actually put those plot points to use in the next chapter !

…

Anyway.

Next Up: The now homeless Evanses and the Soon-to-be-Dursleys visit a picturesque little village deep in the Welsh wilderness (just over two hours' drive from Beddgelert, you know, sort of around the corner from Moel Heborg), Sirius gets the Order into real estate, James and Sirius invent the GPS decades early, Voldemort has had enough, Remus is still crankypants, and someone makes a bark cake for someone's birthday.

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