Beyond Hogwarts cont; Chapter Twenty Three

-=Beyond Hogwarts, cont.; Chapter Twenty Three=-

“Thank you, Mrs. Potter,” Mr. Peckridge nodded, “you are an adept witness. Is there anything else-“
   “Three,” Mr. Crouch interrupted.
   Sirius, Peter, Remus, and Arthur Weasley were a bit taken aback. “What?”
   “Three shots,” Mr. Crouch said curtly. “Not two. You heard three shots.”
   Lily frowned, trying to push herself back those few hours. “I heard two-I don’t remember three. No.” She shook her head. “Two.”
   “There were three shots in your husband’s body, Mrs. Potter.”
   “I heard two,” she maintained stubbornly. “And no, I didn’t shoot him again just to have a nice uneven holey effect in his chest.”
   Mr. Crouch drew himself up pompously. “Mrs. Potter, I did not suggest-“
   “Oh, pipe down, for Merlin’s sake,” Sirius snorted. “Either Lily didn’t hear right or there was something wrong with the gun and it shot out two shells in one firing time…thing.”
   “I doubt whether that is possible,” Mr. Peckridge said, amused, “but it is a consideration.”
   Arthur Weasley looked up. “You said he pulled a bag out from underneath your bed.”
   “Yes.”
   “Have you missed any jewelry; any valuable objects?”
   Lily furrowed her brow. “I don’t know; I haven’t exactly looked-Peter, would you get Slenka for me, please?”
   The house-elf pattered into the living room moments later, and Lily directed her upstairs. “Fetch my jewelry-box for me, please.”
   The chest was placed on her lap in a few seconds, and, mildly curious, she opened it.
   “James charmed most of these so that no one except Slenka, he, or I could pick them up, but still…”
   Her gaze roved over the most expensive necklace she owned: the one Eva had worn for her engagement party: twisted threads of gold that formed a perfect circle all around her shoulders, and the top of her chest, the golden rope with the ruby caught at the clasp in the front, a silver chain with a blue adornment, several smaller silver bracelets, a ring…
   There was a hidden compartment in the back of the box, almost like that of a Snitch, except that this one’s doors had been woven with threads of an Invisibility Cloak and the velvet that covered the rest of the box’s inside. The threads kept people from seeing the gaps where the hinges were and where the small doors opened, but Lily instinctively knew where to find it; she checked this every time she searched for any sort of embellishments.
   A slight push of her finger on two particular spots made the compartment spring open to reveal a pedestal with her engagement ring on top. Pressing another lever next to the stand, the engagement ring and its platform lifted up, revealing the gold, silver, and green flash of the elf-nymph necklace that she couldn’t wear during the summer-James had argued her out of publicly displaying it everywhere she went, though she usually wore it underneath turtleneck shirts.
   However, once she closed the compartment, she noticed something else. Three of her gold chains were gone, and all of them had had talons enclosing their pendants.
   “Yes,” she said clearly, looking up and shutting the chest, “several things are missing.”
   “Anything too valuable, Mrs. Potter?” Mr. Crouch asked, whipping out a notebook and a pencil.
   “Well,” she said with a slight smile, “that depends on what you mean by ‘valuable’.”
   Mr. Crouch frowned. “What do you mean, madam?”
   “I mean,” Lily said, pushing the chest off of her lap, “that what I might consider worthless might be worth a fortune to someone else.”
   Mr. Crouch just looked fed up. “Is there anything missing that you would be frantic without?”
   “Well, when it comes to jewelry, no. When it comes to other things, well, frankly, yes.”
   “Has the burglar stolen anything else?” The fine mustache was suddenly attentive.
   “Possibly my husband,” Lily said dryly. She didn’t care much for the man and even less for whoever knew it; uptight, picky, law-abiding, toe-the-line prats hadn’t ever held much charm for her, one of the reasons she liked the Marauders so much.
   Arthur Weasley cleared his throat loudly. “Eh, yes, well…erm. You didn’t happen to recognize the man, did you?”
   “No,” Lily said languidly. “If I had, I’d certainly have told you, wouldn’t I?”
   “Mrs. Potter, we are only trying to help,” Mr. Peckridge murmured gently. “There is nothing else you can think of?”
   “Not at the moment, no.” She lifted her chin jauntily. “Is there anything else?”
   “As a matter of fact, yes, Mrs. Potter,” Mr. Crouch said shortly, taking out a folder from inside his robes. “Your husband was in the middle of some very important decisions to make for his department, and it is likely that he will not be back for two weeks or more. Those decisions cannot wait that long.”
   “What are you trying to say?” Lily asked, challengingly, raising an eyebrow.
   “We would like you, as his wife, and as someone who has worked at the Ministry before, to substitute for Mr. Potter while he is gone.”
   Sirius started forward, but Remus pulled him back with a slight touch on his wrist and a shake of his head. Leaning back against the armchair, Sirius closed his eyes. He knew full well what James was in the middle of having to decide, and it wasn’t just a matter of changing the kind of morning coffee that the Ministry provided. And James had been promoted far more often over the past year than he had let on to Lily-Sirius didn’t know why he was keeping shut, and James had refused to tell him. “It’s not my secret,” he had said, which led Sirius to believe that it was something about Lily.
   Lily frowned. “Isn’t there someone more qualified at the Ministry you could use? I mean-I did work as an Auror, but not for as long as some people have been.”
   “While you were at the Ministry,” Mr. Peckridge explained, “you were asked to go on an important mission to Durmstrang before you had worked there for a year, which is the usual time period we require our Aurors to remain in training. We have a high respect for you, Mrs. Potter, and you have had more experience than half of our staff. The newer members only are asked to go on regular raids.” He plucked his glasses off, wiped them systematically on his robes, slipped them back on, and continued. “Besides, I am certain your husband has discussed his work with you, which would give you more of an insight. And-we know that you are trustworthy.”
   Her eyebrows knotted themselves severely. “What?”
   Mr. Peckridge looked surprised. “You were an Auror; you are the wife of one of our most trusted Aurors, you carried out a mission successfully, and-“
   “And, as far as we know,” Sirius sighed, “you have no secret midnight meetings with a horde of Death Eaters involving rounds of Truth or Dare. Lily, it’s not that important why-what’s more important is your yes or no.”
   Lily tossed her head, examined her wedding ring, then tilted her head slightly to the left.
   “All right. I accept.”
   The three men exhaled loudly at the same time; Mr. Crouch stuffed the folder back into his robes, and they stood up, Sirius, Remus, and Peter doing the same.
   “May we expect you tomorrow morning?” Mr. Weasley asked, adjusting his robes.
   “You may,” Lily said with a funny sort of smile that made Remus frown a bit. “What time?”
   “Eight o’clock nowadays, Mrs. Potter,” Mr. Peckridge bowed. “Please see Minister Sikora before you do anything else; he has your husband’s files, keys, and list of wards surrounding his office.”
   Lily’s back straightened. “I thought James left them here!”
   “He did,” Sirius said quietly, “but we took them to the Ministry overnight-in case.”
   “Oh.” She rose to her feet, extending a hand to each of the Ministry employees in turn. “Thank you.”
   “Absolutely nothing, ma’am. We will see you in the morning.”
   They Disapparated, leaving behind an unpleasant aura of stuffy offices and business and responsibilities. Lily, sighing, sank back onto a divan, absently twiddling with one of the scarves hanging from her shoulders.
   As soon as the men had gone, Sirius quickly moved over to the divan, kneeling down next to it.
   “Lily, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
   “What?” she queried.
   “Taking over James’ job. I know they think pretty highly of you, and I know someone’s gotta do it, but you don’t have to.” His expression darkened. “He’s got more serious stuff to deal with than he’s probably told you.”
   She turned her head sharply towards him. “Let me get this straight. You’re suggesting I’m not capable of a Ministry job?”
   “I am not saying that. What I am saying is that if James won’t even tell you about what he’s working on right now, then I don’t think he’d want you handling it.”
   “James has learned not to force what he’d want onto me.” Smoothing out her dress, Lily stood up. “Carry my jewelry box back into my room for me, please.”
   She started to leave the room, but Sirius leaped to his feet, taking her by the shoulders.
   "Lily, I’m serious. You go around with the attitude that no one’s going to dare harm you and that, no matter what you do, you’re usually right. You can’t do that with this now-you mess up, and Voldemort’s after you.”
   Lily stared at him piercingly for a moment, then shook her curls away from her face.
   “You’re another of those. No, he isn’t. That’s one thing I am immune to.”
   Exasperated, Sirius folded his arms, an impatient look starting to surface on his face. “You’re acting almost like a child. No one is invulnerable to him. And you’re Muggle-born-he’d jump at the chance to kill you.” Reaching into his robes, he pulled out that day’s Daily Prophet. Unfolding it, he smacked the headline with his fist. “Muggle family killed in Southampton. Two Muggle-born wizards and one pure-blood murdered on investigating an abandoned home in Cornwall. Brighton home attacked.” He whacked a picture of a lady’s still body, one arm flung over her throat, the other twisted behind her back. It was a wizarding photo, but nothing was moving. “Look. Her husband’s one of the most prominent Ministry representatives we have-he was one of the Council members from London. He came home one day and found the Dark Mark over their home. His wife was lying in the hall.”
   He paused for breath, but an odd smile was twinkling on Lily’s countenance. “The Dark Mark?”
   Sirius frowned, puzzled. “Yes…”
   “A skull with a snake coming out of its mouth,” she said rather than asked. “Yes.”
   “Lily-“
   She shook her head spontaneously, smiling somewhat. “Never mind.”
   Stepping deftly past him, she pushed the door open. “If you’d like anything, call Slenka. I’ll see you later.”
   “Whoa!” Moving in front of her, Sirius blocked off her path. “Where’re you going.”
   Lily looked up at him, eyes blinking quickly. “I’m going for a ride.”
   "No!” he interposed. “No, you’re not. Not alone, you’re not. I’m taking you out.”
   Quizzically, she frowned. “Where-well, why?”
   “Because the last thing you need is being left alone to brood on events,” Sirius said with an air of paternity. “Get ready; we’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
   Lily opened her mouth to protest, but changed it into a query. “Where’re we going?”
   “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll figure that out later. But Diagon Alley, at any rate.”
   “Sirius,” she sighed, “can’t I be by myself for at least for a little while? I’ve hardly had time to think…”
   “Exactly,” he cut in. “You start thinking, and you’ll worry yourself to the point of throwing up. Throw on a cloak and some shoes, and I’ll meet you in the entrance hall. It’s a bit windy out.”
   A few minutes later, Lily reappeared, with the veil hanging on a hanger in her closet and a hooded dark blue cloak draped over her shoulders. She had been twirling her wand in one hand, but let it fall into a pocket of her cloak when she reached the bottom of the stairs.
   "Need any money?” Sirius inquired nonchalantly.
   “I might have to stop by Gringotts if I see anything I like.”
   “All right then. Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, please, ma’am; they have a new special there I want you to try.”
   Before she could say anything, he was gone, and, shaking her head slightly, she followed.
   He was leaning against the bar, waving to Tom, the bartender, when she Apparated into the moderately crowded room. Making her way through the tables, she reached Sirius just as Tom had left for the kitchen with a nod.
   “So,” she said, leaning clasped fists on the counter, “what am I drinking today?”
   “I’m leaving you to be surprised,” he grinned. “I’m taking you out today, and even though it’s really bad timing, you’re my guest.”
   “How, ‘bad timing’?”
   A voice both of them knew all too well, hard and casual and about as unwelcome to Sirius as large, pointy, falling boulders joined in, the owner of the voice leaning on the counter next to Lily.
   “Severus!” she exclaimed brightly; “hallo!”
   “’Morning,” he replied with a small smile, which dropped like Dorothy’s house with double the acceleration when he saw Sirius. “Black.”
   “Snape,” Sirius nodded. “What are you doing here?”
   "Getting a drink, several rare potion ingredients, and a book,” Severus said, glaring at him.
   “Ah; an illegal Knockturn Alley visit,” Sirius grinned. “Where do you get those ‘rare potions’, anyway?”
   “One of them is standing conveniently in front of me,” Severus sighed. “Boiled and stuffed head of Black is on the top of my list. Shove off, won’t you?”
   “For Mrs. Potter,” Tom interrupted jovially, setting something large, foamy, white, and brown in front of her, topped with strawberries, “and this one for Mr. Black.”
   “The times I’ve called you ‘Tom’ so disrespectfully and the amount of scolding I got from my mother,” Sirius sighed conversationally, “and I’m still just ‘Mr. Black’.”
   “He simply has more manners than you do, even though that isn’t saying much,” Severus smiled genially. “Lily, I suppose I’ll see you around, then.”
   “Come to dinner tonight,” Lily said, picking up a spoon. “James would love to have you-“
   She stopped, letting the sentence trail. The spoon fell into the middle of the mass of chocolate and ice cream, disappearing almost completely, but she didn’t notice. A small pounding noise in the back of her head was starting to gong the noise of the shots over and over and over again, and Sirius’ voice as he told her about her husband’s peril was trying to overtone the bangs-the two explosions, not three.
   Unbeknownst to her, her lips had closed, pressing against each other till they were almost a fish-belly white, and the hand clasping the counter was turning yellowish at the fingertips and the knuckles.
   Severus had turned away; he hardly registered the pause, but Sirius was instantly alert. Snapping to attention, he grasped her shoulder, shaking it gently, then more fiercely.
   “Lily? Lily!-Lily-come on; please-“
   She started violently, but then her eyes flew to register him, and she relaxed. “I’m all right; stop shaking me!”
   Severus whipped around and was back at the bar in moments. “Lily, what’s wrong?”
   “Something you should be very excited about,” Sirius muttered in an undertone. “Her husband’s in the hospital with a possibly mortal wound. You make any advances when you’re at her house tonight and your head will be in my pickle jar, labeled Irrepressible, Poncing, Backstabbing Git Who Can’t Keep His Greasy Hands To Himself Or Out Of His Pockets.”
   Drawing back, visibly affronted, Severus drew out his wand, pointing it at Sirius.
   “Be glad she’s sitting next to you,” he hissed. “I desperately hope you won’t be so lucky next time I meet you.”
   “And I’m looking breathlessly forward to our next meeting, as usual. Go eat cow dung, Snape, or do something else that amuses you just as much.”
   Sliding his wand back into his sleeve, Severus left the shop for the back alley, slamming the door loudly behind him. The noise, Sirius was glad to notice, smacked Lily out of a worrying fit.
   “What was that?”
   “Cow dung hitting the floor,” Sirius said conversationally. “Would you like me to fish your spoon out of there or would you like another one?”
   “Yes, Sirius, I have arms that are perfectly capable of finding a spoon in an ocean. What was this, a double large?”
   “A medium,” he said, handing her another spoon, “but I could make it a double large if you’d like.”
   Poking the spoon into the mixture of chocolate and wilderness ice cream, whipped cream, strawberries, and ground-up bits of chocolate, Lily tasted it tentatively.
   “So, what do you think?”
   “I think that you might have done well, ordering a double large,” she laughed. “Only Fortescue’s at his best could beat this.”
   Taking her at her word, he raised his hand, waving Tom to come over, and, just as quickly, she leaned over and slammed his arm down on to the table.
   “If I ate more than this, I would look pregnant with septuplets,” Lily told him. “Which I’d prefer not to do, not if I’m going to poke my nose into all the crowded shops in this maze.”
   “Speaking of which, let’s get going as soon as we’re finished. I found something interesting last time I was here that you might like.”
   “Oh, Lord,” Lily murmured. “If you push me in front of a motorcycle made especially for females, someone’s in trouble.”
   “Drink your ice cream,” he advised. “There’s a sort of addictive juice on the bottom that’s very delectable. It makes you see everything from a rather new perspective.”
   “Like what?”
   “Well, as if you’re hanging upside down from the ceiling. But that’s beside the point.”
   The drink turned out to taste a bit like honeysuckle at the bottom, and, contrary to Sirius’ statement, Lily’s feet remained firmly planted on the ground, something she was relieved about. And, surprisingly, it didn’t take either of them that long to finish, skip into Gringotts, and stumble back out. That is, Lily stumbled out; the amount of ice cream and chocolate on top of a bumpy cart ride and everything that had happened since the night before had been a bit much for her.
   “Come on,” Sirius said cheerfully, gesturing around the pleasant, welcoming street, though it was rather windy for June. “Want to poke around in Flourish and Blotts for a bit?”
   “I suppose so.”
   “All right,” he grinned, passing over the obvious lack of interest, and steered her towards the shop. They had recently put up a new sign; a placard painted to look like aged parchment, with decorative blue ink splotches and quills woven into the Old English letters Flourish and Blotts. One of the show windows, the one that usually carried new editions of ‘magical home help’ books, was now free of pictures of garden gnomes, house-elves, saucepans throwing temper tantrums.
   The stands, covered with a crushy gold velvet, proudly displayed six leather-bound volumes. Three were propped open, showing traditional German letters in black and beautiful, elaborate designs in red, blue, and green around the edges of the paper.
   “Look,” Sirius said, trying to be subtle, “they’ve got something new there. Looks pretty old, doesn’t it?”
   Lily’s eyes instantly detached themselves from her hands enmeshed in her cloak. “What?”
   He hadn’t been wrong. Lily had always liked old books, ancient stories, and aged furniture; the same went for clothing. Once, at Hogwarts, he had seen a drawing she had done in History of Magic around the edge of a page with a picture of a rather ugly trollish figure on it, and the best description he and James had been able to come up with was that it ‘looked like wind’. It had been pointless for Remus to tell them, over and over and over, that they hadn’t the faintest idea of what wind looked like, but they persisted that it did.
   “Over there,” he pointed, nodding at the show window. “As of yest-“
   It would have been rather pointless to finish his sentence, as Lily had let go of her clutch on the cloak, picked up a fold of her dress, and was in front of the glass before Sirius could squelch out “-erday”.
   They were beautiful. The leather was different shades of a soft brown, ranging from a dark tan to almost black, and gilt designs on the cover spelt out the titles in large, ornate letters. Swirls of gold were stenciled into the spine and around the edges of the cover, forming millions of minutiae in intricate patterns. The edges of the paper were originally washed with a gold paint, but the color had faded to an elegant coppery bronze. Of the opened books, the pages were yellowed; more so around the rims.
   A card next to each volume gave the title, author, place of printing, and date of make. Two of the books were ancient Bibles, the book most often printed at the time, and they were more magnificently festooned with swirls, lines, and small drawings than any of the books either Sirius or Lily had ever seen before. The next, lying on a smaller piece of crushed dark blue velvet, was by Nicholas Copernicus: De revolutionibus orbium coelestium, the work that had introduced the world to the concept of a universe that centered around the sun.
   Another, covered in doe-coloured leather and mounted on dark green velvet, was titled Aventuras de Don Quixote de la Mancha; the book was in Spanish, with eleven exquisite, intact drawings inside. One more was baptized Alchemy: A Complete Study and List of Methods; a book written by a wizard-Delain de Madresca, who had made it his pride never to have let a Muggle cast a glance upon him.
   The last one was definitely an eyesight; clasps that held the covers together were covered with a gold film about a millimeter thick; in places it was wearing off, and a copper base was showing through. One large cut garnet was riveted into the design surrounding the title-The Maiden of Asfartholest: Volume One, and gold motifs were patterned around it.
   “Are they for sale?” Lily asked in a gleeful voice, one that Sirius hadn’t heard in a long time.
   “Well, looking at the prices beside them, probably. But-“
   It was a bit pointless to gesture at the words saying clearly 746 Galleons beside the alchemic tome; the dark blue dress was whisking into the shop, the door banging shut behind her with the twinkle of a bell.
   Deciding to stay outside, he dived into the stationary shop next to the bookstore, poking at calligraphy pens and different pots of ink, besides accidentally knocking over a box of singing green stationary and hurriedly scurrying to the other side of the store in an effort to avoid the high-pitched soprano belting out a springtime tune.
   By the time Lily left Flourish and Blotts, immensely satisfied, with a basket placed on her arm and her hood hanging down her back, Sirius had left the stationary shop with a smallish brown bag.
   “Which one did you buy, then?” he grinned cheerfully. “Not, I hope, one of the most expensive ones.”
   “Sirius Black,” Lily lectured good-humouredly, “I am frugal when it comes to absolutely everything except historical artifacts.”
   “And dresses,” Sirius added. “Go on.”
   “No; James usually insists on buying those. Still. You should know me better than that.”
   “Not the Maiden of Assfilingrothackmastingred…thing.”
   “The name,” she said, greatly miffed, “is The Maiden of Asfartholest. And why not?”
   “The thing was nine hundred ninety Galleons!” he yelped. “Do you really mean to ruin James?”
   “I do not.” Looping her cloak out of the way, she deftly stepped over a puddle. “He’s the one that goes overboard on jewelry. And I didn’t only buy that one.”
   “Only,” Sirius said dryly. “I’m hoping James isn’t holding me responsible for you.”
   “Oh, don’t worry,” Lily said gaily. “He can’t hold himself responsible for me. No. Don Quixote is mine, too.”
   “I envy the rich. Also the way they live when I’m not with them.”
   “Oh, come on. You wouldn’t have wanted to be on our honeymoon; it was lots of ancient, stuffy stuff. Something hardly fun for someone in love with a motorcycle.”
   “I am not in love with my motorcycle!” Sirius said haughtily. “It is stunning to the eye, yes, incredibly fast, very quiet when I want it to be and loud when I don’t, is very clean, true, but I am not in love with it.”
   “Ah,” Lily said wisely. “That would explain the places on the seat where your rearend has worn all of the glossiness off of it.”
   “So I take it on rides a lot,” Sirius persisted, annoyed. “I don’t intend to marry it.”
   “I’ll overlook the fact that it’s living with you.”
   Sirius rolled his eyes, then pulled out a packaged box, about thirteen inches long. “For madame. In hopes that she will let the argument drop.”
   Curiously, Lily shifted the basket from one arm to the other, accepted the box, and slid the purple ribbon off of it. Opening the case, she drew a magnificent phoenix feather quill, luxuriantly red and gold.
   “Sirius!”
   “Look at the nib,” he advised. “It took me some time to find that.”
   Obeying, Lily held the tip up, and a picturesque smile broke out on her face. “What…”
   It was a wide nib, with a slit down the centre to let out the ink; a calligraphy tool. Lily had used several Muggle pens before, but never a quill, and never one of phoenix feathers, which were moderately rare.
   “Sirius, thank you,” she whispered, putting an arm around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek, not bothering about the curious passers-by.
   Sirius stood stock-still, almost stunned for a moment, until he unshook himself and hugged her back, quickly, before detaching her arm.
   “Come on; it wasn’t worth all that.”
   Sirius escorted Lily around Diagon Alley for about an hour and a half before taking her home, a return very well timed, as the dining room was filled with food, Peter and Remus, and all of the originally hot foods were still steaming comfortably.
   He stripped her arm of two baskets, three bags, a box, and a loop of her cloak; handing them to Slenka, who had scuttled over as soon as they Apparated into the entrance hall, Sirius steered Lily towards the dining room.
   “Hallo,” Sirius said, directing his remarks at Peter, while pulling out a chair for Lily. “Slenka seems to like you a bit better than she did after the kitchen disaster.”
   “I think she’ll come to her senses eventually,” Remus said, eyeing a piece of pie thoughtfully. “Unfortunately. My guess is that she’s still very much distracted because of this morning.”
   “Speaking of which,” Sirius mumbled through a mouthful of roasted chicken, “you were at the hospital today, weren’t you?”
   Avoiding Lily’s rather poignant stare, Remus stabbed his chicken breast several times awkwardly with his fork. “Ye-es…well, both of us were.”
   “And?”
   “They don’t know anything,” Peter interposed, “not yet. They think he’ll be all right, but nothing’s for sure yet.” He cast a nervous glance at Lily. “Except that they don’t want Lily there.”
   Lily looked up sharply. Something flashed behind her eyes, and with a quick compression of her lips, she stood up, knocking her chair over and letting her glass fall onto the floor, where it shattered. Spinning around, she left the room, knocking one of the double doors against the wall so sharply that the intact glasses on the table rattled.
   “Not that I really need to say this,” Sirius sighed, “but that was a really unopportune remark.”
   Peter nodded wearily. “I know. But I don’t think she’d have preferred the other version.”
   “Other version?”
   "The one where he’s in a state of continual unconsciousness and they don’t know when it’ll be lifted or if, because there was a sort of charm thing performed on the gun—or on the bullets, at least, so that one would break where it did, and he’s not reacting well to it.” Refilling his plate, Peter pulled a tray of biscuits towards his place. “That one.”
   “You don’t look very worried,” Sirius observed rudely, the grey under his eyes a bit more pronounced than it had been moments ago. “What are you, some kind of unfeeling beansack?”
   “We’ve had two hours in the hospital wing to take care of that,” Remus snapped. “Stop picking at Peter, will you?”
   Sirius grimaced. “I’m leaving.” Pushing his chair back, he left for the entrance hall, where his cloak was hanging. “Need to sleep,” he muttered as he threw the cape around his shoulders, looking up at the landing of the stairs one last time before he Disapparated.
   “It’ll be a miracle if we come out of this in good friendship,” Remus murmured. “Somehow, it seems highly unlikely at the moment.”
   Lily woke up the next morning to the chiming of the clock on the mantel in her bedroom. Sleepily sitting up, her clogged mind registered eight o’clock. Coming close to flopping back into bed, she remembered just before falling asleep again that she was expected at the Ministry.
   “Blast, burn, and perish,” she muttered, swinging her legs out of bed and pulling a pair of green robes from the closet. “Double perish, triple burn, and as many blasts as I can inflict.”
   Anything but elegant in a black skirt and rumpled sweatshirt underneath the robes, Lily stuffed a piece of toast into her mouth before picking up a bag she had prepared the night before, its contents consisting of several quills, inkpots, and two rolls of parchment. Swiping her hair into a knot and forcing herself not to look at the still slightly stained rug, she Disapparated for the Ministry.
   Sikora willingly gave her James’ keys, files and folders, and a sheet informing her of the wards James had put up around his office. It took her a few moments to unlock them, and, pushing open the door, she shoved her bag into a chair and her armload onto the desk.
   “Phew,” she muttered, wiping a wisp of hair away from her eyes. “Well, I’m back, I suppose.”
   Lily settled into the office in a matter of minutes, and by ten till nine she was looking over the files James had been occupied with before the burglary.
   James had been trying to counter the movement for the legalization of the three Unforgivable curses, Lily discovered, a movement initiated by someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had just finished working with two younger Aurors-in-training, and they had graduated to practice with the personnel of the Department of Mysteries. There were several legal documents that had to be looked over and signed, which Lily passed through fluently.