Chapter 54: The order of things

Months passed since the wedding and the married couple were leading a very happy life. Lily had presented her mastery in potion and got it. She became the fastest person to ever become a potion mistress and also the youngest. For his part, Rick was having a hell of a time playing for the Magpies. After being severely reprimanded and insulted by his coach for over ten minutes for his actions during the match the day of his wedding, he got a ‘good job’ and nothing more was spoken about it. Victories kept piling up for the team and a small part of it was thanks to Rick making special brooms for his teammates.

Three newer models had seen the light of day. Swift Gale was the model for the chasers, giving them as much speed as the current Nimbus 1500 but way more maneuverability. They could cut corners easily with it and dodge better. The Squall Howler was the one for the beaters, less speed than the Swift Gale but great movement. Rick had added the rotation in place ability to give more opportunity to hit a bludger. Finally the keeper’s model was named Sudden Zephyr for his ability to suddenly move with a short burst of speed in any direction. Very useful to go from one ring to another.

It took a while for the players to get used to their new brooms but when they had to choose to go back to their old brooms or not they all declined. When people began to ask about the brooms, the coach answered that they were brooms made by Rick in his spare time (he had Rick’s permission to reveal that). Of course many questions were sent Rick’s way, among them was if he would sell those models. The answer was a resounding ‘no’ as Rick didn’t have the time at the moment nor the help necessary to make a business out of it viable.

Not everything was all sunny in their lives however. A civil war had truly started. The Dark Lord had finally revealed himself and openly began his conquest of wizarding Britain. Voldemort, as he called himself, had begun a civil war by attacking magicals all over the country. Leaving behind each attack his symbol up in the sky. A green skull with a snake getting out of its mouth. From what Amelia told Rick, things were really bad. The blood purity ideology had supporters everywhere. Open and secret alike. There were so many incidents that recruits were made full fledged Auror before they even finished the programme. The entire DLME couldn’t deal with all of what was happening, especially when the criminals acted in the cover of the night and didn’t hesitate to ambush and murder their opposition or simply people of lesser blood.

Amidst the chaos Dumbledore had sent letters to people he trusted for a meeting at the Hog’s head inn at Hogsmeade. The meeting was about the creation of a vigilante group that would fight Voldemort and his death eaters outside of the law. A group whose members could trust each other as the ministry was probably already infiltrated.

“Are you sure you want to do this? This is not a simple fight, this is war.”

Charlus was looking at his son and daughter in law, who had received one of the letters Dumbledore had sent.

“Yes.” Rick simply replied with determination.

“It’s our future that Sandwiches are jeopardizing. We can’t do nothing, especially when we can’t count on the ministry to do something about it.” Lily added with the same expression.

“You may die.”

“And I will die regardless if Voldemort takes control of the country. Muggle borns won’t be spared.”

“The group you’re joining… It’s not what you think it is.” After being silent for the whole conversation, Dorea finally spoke up.

“What do you mean?”

“Corvus, it’s a group led by Dumbledore. It’s doomed to fail.”

“How so?”

“You’ll see.” she answered cryptically then left the room.

Rick and Lily shared a glance but said nothing. They went through with it and took the floo to Hogsmeade. Only then, on their way to the Hog’s head inn did they speak.

“Could you?” Lily asked her husband.

“Could what?”

“Kill someone else?”

“... Yes.” She knew what his answer would be but she wanted to hear it.

He had warned her about the ‘black madness’ before they wed. How it felt for him, how he thought during it. She didn’t like it. She wasn’t horrified but just not approving. It was a side of him that she never witnessed and didn’t want to. Questions were asked of course. To Dorea who had the same thing but also Sirius and Andromeda who were Black themselves. They had been really informative about what the ‘madness’ of their family was. Only Charlus could help her with how to deal with it and how to help Rick deal with it too. One thing was sure for Lily, however. It wasn’t enough to have second thoughts about spending the rest of her life with Rick.

Inside the inn were already plenty of people. A few, they knew. Their whole Gryffindor year was present without anyone missing. Frank and Alice were there too. For the most part, besides Hagrid and Minerva they were a bit in the dark as to who were the others. When Marlene noticed her best friends she waved them over. Greetings were exchanged (though some reluctantly in James’ case, at least towards Rick) and the talk immediately centered around what Dumbledore was going to say.

The man was getting late and people began to mingle to get to know each other. After all they were going to be part of a secret group and it wouldn’t do well if they were strangers. Not when they needed to trust each other while working together in those dark times. Rick was introduced to Lord Kingsley Shacklebot by Frank. The man was from one of the old Ancient and noble Houses and Frank’s mentor on the job. He wasn’t the only veteran Auror present. The man’s wife was there too, speaking to a group of witches on the other side of the room. From the corner of his eyes he saw Lily speaking with James. That got him curious but before he could observe the situation more, Dumbledore arrived catching everyone’s attention.

The old Headmaster gave a general greeting and apologized for being late. He wasted no further time and went straight to the point. This group he was forming and which he baptized the ‘Order of the Phoenix’ was supposed to fight Voldemort and his followers. By that he meant, repelled any of their attacks and captured them to be left to the Aurors to deal with. Of course those that were no fighters could help in a supporting role. Gathering information (or in other words spying) or simply being there to procure food or healing.

Seeing that everyone present was in, he warned that any subsequent meeting will not be taking place here but somewhere else as it wouldn’t do to gather each time at the same place. He asked who would be willing to lend their home for some of the meetings and many offered theirs. Lily glanced at Rick who shook his head discreetly. Potter Manor wasn’t his and he couldn’t suggest it when the actual owner, his father, wasn’t interested in joining the order. When requests for financial support to fund the effort were talked about, Rick agreed this time. Not a single knut of the Black’s fortune however. Just his own. The one he was making as a quidditch player, selling Palladium, and the royalties his mother was giving him for the sale of his potions pills to St Mungos or private individuals through owl post. While of all this resulted in about a bit more than a thousand galleons a month, it was far from the few millions in the family vault. Of course the Potter Vault was not his to access even if as the heir he could. Just like Potter Manor, the family vault belonged to his father and he wouldn’t use it unless he got approval. Since Charlus didn’t seem enthusiastic at Dumbledore’s group creation, Rick wouldn’t ask.

His parents' reaction, especially his mother's, came with one big question: Why?

Why did they not want to be part of order when Voldemort sounded a hundred times worse than Grindelwald? By magical standard they had not reached half their life span yet. They weren’t considered young by any means but not elderly either. He was sure they could fight and give a run for their money to many. The question was put on hold when Lily got to his side and took his hand in hers. Realizing the meeting was over, he said goodbye to anyone he came across and took the floo back to the manor.

“This was not what I expected.” he confessed as he sat down on the couch in the living room, pulling Lily to sit by his side.

“No?”

“No.” he shook his head to emphasize his negative answer. “I was expecting something more organized. Something more… militaristic or at least with more discipline. Not… this. Dumbledore decides everything and I’m not sure that’s good.”

“Why do you think so?” She couldn’t help but be curious. Rick had never had anything negative to say about the old wizard.

“Because he’s not a fighter. I would have preferred a veteran Auror in charge. Someone who I know, knows how to lead.”

“He is a fighter. He defeated Grindelwald and people turned to him for guidance because he’s perhaps the greatest wizard in the world.”

“That doesn’t necessarily make him an adequate leader. His speech was interesting but too vague, he”

“Never spoke about concrete actions against Voldemort. I noticed that too.”

“It’s all reactionary. How are we supposed to win if we don’t take the initiative and just react to events? Are we supposed to wait on our hands until they strike then hope we get wherever we need to be in time? I understand that we have no information for now so we can’t really act against them but once we do? What then?”

“I don’t know.” she replied a bit lost and put her head against his shoulder. “Was that what you were thinking about before we left?”

“Not exactly. I was wondering why my parents didn’t want to be a part of it. Now that we talked about it, perhaps… they knew how this would be and it doesn’t fit well with them.”

“... We can ask them tomorrow.”

“Hm. Better get to bed. Tomorrow is Sunday and I want to spend all of it with my beautiful charming wife so no sleeping in.”

As he said that he stood up from the couch and picked up Lily sideways in his arms. She giggled a bit and gave him a loving kiss.

“By the way…”

“Yes?”

“What did he want?” The emphasis on the pronoun made it easy for Lily to know who her husband was talking about. Remembering that moment was unpleasant and she frowned.

“Get into my pants, what else? He was subtle about it though and just flirted. A small compliment here, a small one there.”

“So he doesn’t care that you’re married? That’s a new low for him.”

“I admit I wasn’t expecting that from him either. When Dumbledore was done talking, Remus approached me and apologized for James’ behavior. He couldn’t believe it either. Enough about him. I’m more interested in the fact that Amelia wasn’t present.”

“You know how she is. Straighter than straight. Being a part of an illegal vigilante group? That’s not her.”

“Considering my time with her that christmas, I can confirm she’s not that straight.”

She was proud of herself for this little quip and Rick simply rolled his eyes. When they reached their bedroom, Rick delicately laid her on the bed and began to undress. He was surprised when after removing his shirt he saw Lily in front of her small potions desk. It was a desk she had put there to hold every potion they might need during their intimate time under or over the sheets. Lust potions, stamina potions, contraceptive potions and some more. He knew then that his wife had something kinky in mind.

“What is it going to be tonight, Lils?”

“Not, Lils.” she answered and her body began to morph. She grew a few inches taller in height and her curves became way more pronounced, being a few sizes bigger than originally. Rick recognized the woman his wife had polyjuiced into.

“I still can’t believe she gave you a few hairs as a wedding gift.”

“Me too although… in insight she knows how much I wish I had a body like hers to please you with.”

In front of him, gone was Lily Potter. She had been replaced by none other than Amelia Bones.

“She’s really bloody gorgeous.” she said as she cupped her huge breasts and weighed them. They were as big as her head. “I’m really going to find a way to”

“Lily, you’re perfect the way you are.” His interruption was punctuated by him taking her in his arms. “And, yes maybe her tits and arse are bigger but yours have a better shape. Especially the ass. I just love your round bubble butt.”

“Thank you.” she replied with a smile and pecked his lips. “I’m still doing it though.”

“If that’s what you wish then go ahead.” He picked her up and brought her back to bed.

From there on every week they went to the Order’s meetings. Every time at a different place they were told about by Albus and his patronus the very evening of the gathering. More than that, they had to act a few times, arriving during attacks on small villages. Most of the time they were muggle but sometimes they were mixed. Almost every time they arrived too late however and the death eaters had done their jobs. However, as time passed and the members got more and more information, they arrived earlier and engaged in a fight. The smartest death eaters fled on the spot but some stayed to fight, thinking they could handle it. They did not and were stunned then captured. Unfortunately they were just lackeys doing a task that Voldemort had given them by proxy and knew nothing about other members or Voldemort himself.

Outside the constant tension of the war, life for the newly married couple had begun to settle into something resembling stability as 1979 unfolded. In particular, Lily had achieved a remarkable breakthrough that carried both professional significance and a deep personal reward. After months of correspondence, collaboration, and exhaustive trial and error with Damocles Belby, she had succeeded where others had stalled, combining his groundbreaking Wolfsbane Potion with her own research to create a solid, ingestible form. A pill.

It had not been an easy road. The process required meticulous experimentation and countless adjustments to ingredient ratios, magical infusion timing, and stabilization techniques. But the end result was nothing short of revolutionary. Belby, for all his genius, had been astounded by the method Lily employed to extract the purest possible magical essence from each component, techniques she had refined through long nights in the Potter lab with Dorea.

He had immediately asked for her secrets. She had just as swiftly declined.The technique, she explained, was a Potter family innovation, protected knowledge passed down through generations. Though visibly disappointed, Belby had accepted the answer with professional grace and a respectful nod, understanding the significance of magical legacy.

Their joint success meant more than prestige. It meant accessibility. The potion, in its standard liquid form, had always been prohibitively expensive, costing thirty galleons per dose just for the raw ingredients, not even factoring in the brewing time and labor of a trained potion master. But the pill form? Mass producible. Stable. Cheap. A single bottle, containing enough pills for one full moon’s transformation, could now be priced at only five galleons. And yet, due to the concentration and purity of the extract, each batch of pills had the equivalent medicinal value of seventy galleons’ worth of liquid potion. All that remained was Ministry approval for public distribution.

Rick continued his unstoppable streak on the field, catching every single Snitch without fail, match after match. Not once did he miss, and each gleaming golden sphere ended up delivered directly into the hands of Minerva McGonagall, who collected them like personal trophies with a pride that verged on maternal. His consistency was legendary, the kind that forced the crowd into standing ovations and made opposing teams visibly anxious every time he lifted off the ground.

That said, the Montrose Magpies didn’t win every game.

Their sole loss came at the hands of the Ballycastle Bats, whose chaser line played with a ruthless precision that simply outclassed the Magpies’ defense. The real blow, however, came when their keeper took a bludger square to the head early and was rendered unconscious. With their goalposts wide open, the Bats capitalized swiftly and viciously, scoring over two hundred points before Rick could catch the Snitch. It had been a brutal lesson in how even perfect Seeker work couldn’t always salvage a broken team dynamic.

Another close call came in a nail biting match against the Holyhead Harpies. Their chaser Eva Johnson proved impossible to shut down, fast, aggressive, and frighteningly accurate. Every time she had the quaffle, she scored. And as if that wasn’t enough, Rhiannon Dee, the Harpies’ star beater, turned the pitch into a war zone. She shadowed Rick constantly, intercepting his every pursuit of the Snitch with well timed, devastating bludgers. Her precision was uncanny; she didn’t just come close. She hit. Again and again. One shot shattered his wrist. Another dislocated his shoulder. And every time she landed a blow, she stuck her tongue out at him mid air with a cocky grin that was equal parts infuriating and bizarrely endearing. Despite the pain, despite the mounting frustration, Rick refused to yield. Bloodied, battered, and running on raw instinct, he pushed through the agony and outmaneuvered her one final time, snatching the Snitch in a sharp dive that made the crowd scream. The Magpies won the match by a razor thin twenty point margin.

At Lily’s request they learned to drive a car. She had heard from her mother that Vernon Dursley was talking badly about Rick based on the fact that their wedding had been unimpressive and small and that he didn’t own a car. Apparently having a car was a symbol of status in the man’s head. While Rick didn’t care about any of this, Lily had hated that. No one disrespected her husband and got scot free in her opinion. Despite Rick’s wishes she refused to let go and no matter how much he tried logic with her it didn’t work. He had hoped that reminding her that owning a car when they could apparate was just a waste of money but that was in vain. Another argument he made but that worked this time was that the money could be used for the war. She had been so furious that for a moment she had forgotten about it. In the end she relented. Not as much as he wished though. He was still supposed to get his driver license because it could ‘help’ blend in with the muggles. He knew the truth, Lily was just too stubborn to admit she had lost it a bit.

Tragedy struck in the beginning of March. Both Luke and Rose died in a car accident one evening when they were getting home from a dinner with Petunia and Vernon. A truck driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel and the vehicle crossed the road to hit their car. They died on the spot and so did the driver who didn’t have his seat belt on. Lily had been unconsolable. She recovered thanks to her in laws and friends but mainly because Rick had always been there for her. It hadn’t been easy, far from it. In fact the only reason she began to move forward was because had she not she would have lost her husband.

During a Death Eater raid, the Order had arrived quickly to respond, wands drawn and spells ready. Lily, still raw from the loss of her parents, carried her grief like a storm beneath her skin. That night, she didn’t hold back. She let her rage pour out through every hex, every blast of magic, striking down her enemies with relentless force. But she was grieving, and grief blurred judgment. She fought like someone who had nothing left to lose, reckless and untethered. It led her into trouble she didn’t fully realize until it was almost too late.

Surrounded by three Death Eaters, she held her own well enough, deflecting curses and retaliating with practiced efficiency. But in her focus, she didn’t notice the fourth one flanking her from the side, silent and merciless. He raised his wand and cast the Killing Curse. The bolt of sickly green light streaked toward her only to miss her by inches. Rick had arrived just in time, casting a tripping jinx that knocked her flat against the ground. The curse passed through the space where her head had been a second earlier.

Before she could rise, she saw him.

Rick was already moving, wand in hand, eyes locked ahead. What she witnessed in the next few moments left her stunned. He didn’t just retaliate. He dismantled his enemies. The speed of his spellwork was inhuman, a blur of light and motion that cut through the night. His magic wasn’t chaotic or wild. It was focused. Deliberate. Cold. One Death Eater fell with his eyes shredded by a slicing hex. Another screamed as the lower half of his jaw was obliterated, blood spraying across the field. The third clutched at his leg, severed clean below the knee, writhing helplessly on the ground. Rick didn’t stop there. He moved past them, toward others, spell after spell leaving devastation in its wake.

She didn’t register Sirius calling her name or the hands that helped her to her feet. Her eyes stayed fixed on Rick, unable to look away from what he was becoming in front of her. She saw the last standing Death Eater attempt to flee, only to be struck by a cutting curse that shattered his mask and tore deep into his face. The man collapsed, howling in agony. Rick approached him without pause, raised his wand once more, and severed his wand arm at the elbow. The Death Eater’s screams rose into the night, raw and broken.

She couldn’t explain how it happened. She only knew that her body moved before her mind caught up. She ran to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind, clinging tightly as she begged him to stop. Her voice cracked with emotion as she pleaded for him to remember what mattered, to choose her, to choose the life they had fought to build together. She pressed her forehead to his back, whispering that this wasn’t who he was, that he didn’t need to keep going, that he was hers.

Still, he didn’t respond.

Desperate, she moved in front of him and pulled him into an embrace, pressing her cheek to his chest. It was only then, looking up at him, that she saw it. The emptiness in his eyes. Not rage. Not pain. Not vengeance. Just nothing. A hollow, emotionless void that chilled her to her bones. It was what Charlus had once warned her about, and now she understood. There was no spark in those eyes. No love. No recognition. As if the man standing in front of her wasn’t Rick, but a silent force of destruction with nothing human left inside.

She whispered again. This time, his wand lowered.

Without a word, she took his hand and pulled him away from the battlefield. The fighting had ended. The survivors were regrouping. The dead were being counted. But Lily didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Not yet. She just walked, holding his hand, afraid that if she let go, whatever was still human in him might not find its way back.

A gnawing guilt festered in Lily’s chest, a slow burning ache she couldn’t shake. What Rick had done… it hadn’t been premeditated, nor even strategic. It had been instinct, pure and immediate. A reaction to seeing her nearly die, to watching her recklessness nearly cost her life and his entire world. She didn’t blame him. She couldn’t. But the truth haunted her all the same: had she not stopped him, he wouldn’t have stopped on his own. He would have kept going, spell after spell, tearing through the enemy line with vicious intent until every Death Eater on that field was either mutilated or dead.

And if he had, she would have lost him. Not in body, but in spirit. He would never return from that place he descended into. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt regret. Rick was terrifyingly capable of rationalizing necessity in the moment. But she would have. Her condemnation, her horror at the man he might’ve become, would have cut deeper than any spell. It would have shattered him. And it would have been her fault. The next day, Marlene had pulled her aside with an update that knocked the breath from her lungs: thirteen Death Eaters had fallen to Rick’s wand that night. Not a single one had died. It had been close, very close, for more than half of them. Limbs lost. Arteries slashed. Flesh scorched and shredded by spells few dared to use. But they had lived.

Barely.

And only because of the blood replenishing pills Lily herself had brewed and distributed to the Order in advance. The very same potion she’d designed to minimize casualties on their side had, unintentionally, saved the lives of their enemies. It had given fellow fighters enough time to stabilize the injured and stop the bleeding.

Strangely, that truth brought her relief.

Not because the Death Eaters survived. She couldn’t care less about their fates. But because Rick remained intact. He hadn’t crossed that invisible but irrevocable line. He hadn’t become the monster others had accused him of being, hadn’t lost the man she loved to vengeance and bloodlust. And if the potion had bought those bastards their lives… then maybe, just maybe, it had bought Rick’s soul a reprieve too. He needed her. Not just as a wife, a lover, or a partner in arms. But as an anchor. A reason to pause. A reason to choose not to go too far. And she needed to be better. More careful. Less reckless. Not for her own sake, but for his.

From that moment on, she swore she would be. Because she would protect Rick, in every way that mattered. Even from himself.

That night and Rick’s action had severe consequences in the order. Dumbledore had not been pleased one bit and many, if not most, had agreed with him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t care much about the opinions of cowards that stay behind. As far as I’m concerned, my wife was in mortal danger and I eliminated the threats.”

Those were the last words anyone ever heard him speak at Order meetings, because he stopped attending them altogether. He continued to operate in the field, still delivered intelligence and carried out missions, but the trust he had once placed in Dumbledore and in every so called ally who had turned their gaze on him with suspicion was broken beyond repair. He offered no confrontational exit, no speech of protest, only quiet withdrawal, and in doing so, revealed the same lesson Charlus and Dorea had learned long before them. Lily and Rick finally understood why his parents had refused to join the Order. Dumbledore, for all his renown and brilliance, was too quick to judge, too rigid in his principles, too detached from the cost paid in blood. He clung to a philosophy of restraint, an idealistic code where certain lines could not be crossed: maiming, killing, retribution. Noble, in theory. Admirable, even. But he didn’t just hold himself to those standards. He imposed them on others, wielding them like shackles around the ankles of those who fought and bled in the trenches. And all the while, their enemies moved without hesitation, without conscience, leaving behind fire and corpses while the Order clung to spells meant for duels and classrooms.

They had been outnumbered from the beginning. The Death Eaters had numbers, resources, and the full weight of dark magic behind them. They killed without remorse, and when they were subdued, the Order refused to inflict anything permanent. Stunning spells. Binding charms. Defensive counters. That was the extent of their offensive arsenal, and it was never enough. Captured Death Eaters were routinely rescued, healed, and sent back into the fight before the week was out. It made a mockery of every effort the Order made. Every victory was temporary. Every success undermined by a refusal to do what was necessary.

As the months dragged on and the names of the dead piled higher, Lily found herself staring at Dumbledore’s idealism with a growing sense of disillusionment. She had believed in him, once. In his wisdom. In his cause. But this wasn’t a cause anymore. This was a war. And wars weren’t won with stunners. They weren’t won with second chances and moral high ground. They were won with blood, and fire, and the will to see a battle through to the end. Dumbledore's way wasn’t noble anymore. It was naive. It was not the way to win a war.

“People acclaim Dumbledore for his defeat of Grindelwald but the truth is, that’s all he did. He didn’t put a stop to the war. Sure he fought but he wasn’t the one who thinned Grindelwald's army to get to the bastard. No, it was people like Charlus and my brother who did the dirty work. Going to the front lines and taking lives. Dumbledore just arrived right at the end. The duel had been so epic that everyone else's efforts and sacrifices became a footnote in history. Make no mistake, Lily. The old goat doesn’t like it one bit that brave people who lost their lives are forgotten but it’s better for him that way. That allowed him to push his ideals of peace forward. At the end of the day though he’s not a good general that would lead you to victory in a war.

That was what Lily had been told by Dorea. Despite her growing disillusionment with the Order of the Phoenix, she continued to attend the meetings not out of loyalty, but to gather intelligence. She no longer believed in their approach. At the beginning, she had questioned whether she would ever be capable of taking a life, even in wartime. Eight months of horrors later, burned villages, tortured Muggleborns, families ripped apart. She had her answer. She could. Not eagerly, not without hesitation. But if it came down to a choice between survival and death, between protecting someone and letting them be slaughtered, she would not hesitate again. The thought still disturbed her. She had been raised with too much empathy, too much reverence for life to ever grow comfortable with the idea. But she could no longer see herself condemning a fellow Order member for doing what needed to be done.

And what needed to be done seemed increasingly out of reach with every meeting.

The reports shared were, more often than not, grim chronicles of disappearances and deaths. Faces she had once smiled at across the Gryffindor table or seen in Diagon Alley were now spoken of in past tense, names becoming statistics. The meetings themselves felt pointless, a morbid roll call peppered with vague directions and Dumbledore’s cryptic half orders. He never spoke plainly about the tasks assigned. Members were summoned in pairs or one on one, receiving instructions privately, out of earshot from the rest. Lily doubted it was distrust. Dumbledore didn’t think like that. More likely, it was strategy. Isolate the individual, appeal to their sense of duty, speak to their fears without the balancing voice of peers. Easier to convince, easier to shape. She resented it. Being left in the dark made her feel like a pawn, not a soldier.

And to top it all off, James Potter was back to his old tricks.

He hadn’t changed. If anything, the war had only hardened his smug self assurance into arrogance. He flirted in front of her as if it was still fifth year, tossing glances her way as if she’d be charmed by his tired jokes and transparent posturing. His usual tactic was to subtly insult other men in the room, especially Rick, whenever he could get away with it, while puffing himself up in the next breath. It hadn’t worked in school, and it certainly wasn’t working now. Not when Lily knew better, and especially not when James had a girlfriend. A ministry secretary, no less, whom he had been dating for several months.

A quiet but necessary conversation with Marlene had made it clear that she, too, shared Rick and Lily’s growing disillusionment with the Order of the Phoenix and with Dumbledore in particular. Sirius, unsurprisingly, had reached the end of his tether as well, increasingly bitter and volatile as the casualty reports piled higher each week. Yet despite the shared frustration, none of them could see a viable alternative. The Order was flawed, yes, but it was also the only organized resistance left standing, and Dumbledore, irritating, paternalistic, impossibly idealistic Dumbledore, was still the best hope most people could cling to. So they clung, white knuckled and weary, waiting for a miracle from a man whose strategy seemed built on martyrdom and trust.

Lily, however, had long since stopped believing in miracles. She didn’t say anything aloud, not even to Marlene, but privately she disagreed with the notion that there were no other paths forward. There were options, plenty of them, just not the kind that made anyone feel good. They could flee, disappear into the wider magical world and never look back. Rick had once joked about it when she’d pushed him to become Lord Black, but there had been a genuine note in his voice, a sliver of truth wrapped in sarcasm. That was one option. Another, far darker, was to stop holding back. To stop stunning and binding and hoping for justice. To kill. To take the fight to the death eaters with the same ruthless finality they dished out to others. It was distasteful, yes. Morally repugnant, perhaps. But it was also effective. And wars were not won by playing fair.

The problem was not a lack of possibilities. It was the unbearable weight of choosing between them. Every option demanded a price. Every path demanded blood or exile or some piece of the soul. And so, paralyzed by the ugliness of it all, Lily chose none. She waited, not out of faith, but because indecision was easier than compromise.