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Talk of Resistance


The deaths were beginning to become a near daily occurrence. Students took out subscriptions to the Daily Prophet and the papers were passed about the house tables with an air of nervousness as people read over the articles describing the latest battles fought against the Dark Lord. Everyday, there were lists of names of witches, wizards, and muggles who were victims of the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters. Breakfast was punctuated by the sounds of people crying out, recognizing a name or two, of tears and talks of how someone knew this person or that person. Now and then, it would be a family member that had been killed and someone would be lead out of the Great Hall by their head of house to grieve. The Great Hall seemed emptier than usual as people travelled home to attend funerals or were pulled from the school by fearsome parents who thought their children would be safer at home than at the school.

“Bloody idiots,” said Derek, shaking his head when he heard that Alex Tinnamin’s folks were thinking of having him come home early, rather than allowing him to finish the term. “Haven’t they noticed there hasn’t been a single attack made at Hogwarts? It’s so well protected, Voldemort would never dream of coming here.”

Alex shrugged, “They’re worried about the Tournament, too,” he admitted, “With the American President of Magic and the Minister both there, they’re afraid it’ll be too good a target for Voldemort to resist.”

Bilius sighed, “We can’t stop living our lives!”

Alex sighed, “I know that, but try telling my mum that. She’s gone mad with worry.”

“I’ll say she has,” Derek said, “What about graduating? You’ll have to take seventh year over if you leave now.”

Alex’s voice was heavy, “Mate, you’re preaching to the choir!”

The entire world seemed to have lost their minds in the grips of the fear overtaking them, though. Every letter that was sent by owl was searched thoroughly, and the school went onto absolute highest alert, fearful of any attacks that may be made by Lord Voldemort. Even the faculty seemed on edge. Professor Blythe had shouted at Sirius for doodling during class. “This is ruddy important!” she had snapped at him, “What you learn in this classroom could literally save your life out there in the real world - don’t you understand that?”

Only Dumbledore seemed as cool and calm as he ever had.

The only thing that seemed to distract the terrified Hogwarts students from the war was talk of the Tournament. The first was coming ever closer, the arrival of the Ilvermorny students imminent. The school was being polished from dungeons to turrets by Argus Filch and the north tower had been prepared to be a sort of make-shift dormitory for the visitors. Derek was seen out on the pitch with the All Star team nearly everyday, flying and practicing, preparing for the tourney that was coming up, and always there was a small crowd in the stands. Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter were all regulars, along with Frank Longbottom, Lily Evans, Ali Prewitt, and Bilius Weasley. Several others from other houses were there as well, like Xenophilius Lovegood from Ravenclaw who always cheered too loudly, and several teachers including Chriselda Blythe. It seemed with everything that was going on in the world, Quidditch had become the point ‘round which everyone gathered to have fun and clear their minds of all the darkness. Talk of the tourney filled the school halls as the excitement built.

The full moon came and went. While Remus was gone to the Shrieking Shack, the boys checked on the Draught of Change in the Secret Room, but not much seemed to have happened with it in the first month of brewing - which was good, according to the book - and they continued working on their silent spells. “You know, it would be a lot easier if Remus could help us,” Peter pointed out one night as they stood around the dormitory, trying to move a feather without speaking aloud. None of them had managed the skill yet. “He could probably do this in just one go.”

“We can’t tell Remus,” Sirius persisted. “Not until we know this is going to work!”




The boys were out late in the castle one night after the full moon had passed, mapping as usual, when they heard footsteps on the stairs by the fifth floor stairwell. They quickly ducked out of sight, hiding behind a long tapestry that concealed a hidden stair, crouching beneath the invisibility cloak, listening closely. There were three voices approaching down the corridor from the stairwell - they recognized them almost instantly as Bilius, Derek, and Alex Tinnamin. Peter was about to climb out from behind the tapestry, excited since they knew the three Gryffindor seventh years would never give them up to Filch, when they heard a fourth voice coming the other direction.

“Good evening,” said Dumbledore, a smile to his voice. “I was just coming to meet you at the stair. I apologize for the late time of the meeting,” he added, “But due to the rather clandestine nature of what we’re about to discuss here today… you understand.”

“Yeah, whatever time is good for you is brilliant for us,” Bilius said boisterously. “We just want to help out in stopping this madness.”

Dumbledore chuckled, “I understand you are quite eager to assist, but I’m afraid your tasks will seem trifle at first. I promise, however, that they will be of utmost importance to the overall work of the Resistance.”

Sirius’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked ‘round at the other boys. Bilius, Derek, and Alex were joining the resistance? Sirius was half tempted to leap out from behind the tapestry and announce his desire to join up, too. Whatever it took to take out the likes of Voldemort, he would be willing to do. The only thing stopping him was the grip James suddenly took out on his forearm. James shook his head. No, he was telling Sirius silently and Sirius had all he could do not to wrench his arm away and do it anyway. If it had been anyone but James stopping him, he would’ve done.

“We’re ready, Headmaster,” said Derek solemnly. “We’re all of age, we’re all adults by law. I know we haven’t finished school just yet, but… blimey, all that’s left is the N.E.W.T. tests and we’re done. It’s as good as over, really. We’ve learned what we’ll learn. And I just can’t sit about here in this castle, thinking on how Alice and my parents --” he stopped mid-sentence. “I just can’t stay out of it any longer, sir.”

“Send us out,” Alex joined in.

Dumbledore said, “Well first, let us go to my office and we will talk about this a bit more. The walls have ears, as they say. Come,” Dumbledore directed, and he quickly escorted Derek, Bilius, and Alex off down the hallway to the great gargoyles that guarded his office door, their footsteps fading away.

The boys jumped out from behind the tapestry, Peter dusting off some cobwebs that had tangled about him as they stood in the dark beyond. Remus was flattening the crumpled corners of the map against his chest. “They’re joining up to the resistance,” Sirius said, “I want to join the resistance. Nothing would anger Mother and Father more than that.”

“That’s not a very good reason to join the resistance, making your folks angry,” Remus said. “The resistance is a whole lot of life-risking, you need to be doing that sort of thing for the right reasons.”

“Defeating Voldemort is reason,” James said.

“And a good one at that,” Sirius agreed.

Peter shivered, “I should think they would be afraid to join. Especially Derek. He’s already seen how powerful Voldemort is first hand…”

James rolled his eyes.

“You can’t go not standing up to him, just because he’s powerful,” argued Sirius as the boys walked toward the staircase. “Nobody would ever fight any of the villains of the world if that’s how that worked. He’s powerful, sure, but together we’re more powerful.”

Peter still didn’t look comfortable with the idea, but he didn’t press his point any further than he already had done. It seemed to him that perhaps they - seeing as they were all purebloods - might be better suited simply staying out of it. After all, it wasn’t their battle, was it? Voldemort wasn’t after them, he was after the half-bloods, the muggle-borns, and that lot. If they could just lay low, they had a chance, as purebloods, to remain unscathed, no matter what happened - whether the Resistance succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord or Voldemort took control over the Wizarding World - it didn’t matter. They had unique opportunity to survive it. If only they didn’t go starting anymore trouble, that is.

But of course, Peter knew, he would have a near impossible time of convincing Sirius Black of that.

“-- because of our age,” Remus was saying. Peter realized he’d been so busy fantasizing of not fighting that he’d missed half the conversation the others were having. “You can’t join the resistance yet. It took Bilius, Alex, and Derek ages to join. They’ve been asking all term, haven’t they? McGonagall and Dumbledore kept saying no to them, and they’ll say no to us, too. They’ll say we’re just kids.”

“I bloody hate that,” James said, “Why’s it matter how old we are? We’re willing! And the way it sounds, they’re losing people left and right. They need as many hands as they can. Voldemort doesn’t mind having kids working for him -- neither should the resistance against him!”

Remus sighed, “Yeah but we aren’t trained, James. What good are we against Voldemort and all his friends? You remember what happened in the Forbidden Forest last term. If it hadn’t been for Snape telling Dumbledore…”

“Snape!” said James, rolling his eyes as they turned ‘round a corner, “Ruddy greasy haired little --”

Suddenly James was on his back, having collided with none other than Severus Snape, who was also sprawled on his back. Sirius quickly withdrew his wand from his pocket and Peter, who was the one still carrying the invisibility cloak, tossed it over himself. Remus looked on, positively stunned, as Sirius leaped over James and aimed his wand right at Severus Snape’s throat.

“What are you doing here?” he asked heatedly. They were on the sixth floor - positively eons from the dungeons where Snape belonged. Then again, they weren’t exactly where they belonged at this hour, either, but they were certainly closer to it than Snape.

Severus’s wand hand twitched. James quickly fumbled through his pockets for his wand. “Expelliarmus,” James said, and the wand attempted to fly out of Severus’s hand, but with lightening fast reflexes, Severus caught it before it could go and his eyes turned to James.

“Don’t you dare unarm me,” he hissed.

Sirius pressed his wand closer so that it pressed into Severus’s throat. “I asked you a question, Snivellus,” he growled.

Remus cleared his throat, “Why don’t we just --”

“It’s none of your business what I’m doing, you filthy blood traitor,” Snape shouted over Remus’s nervous voice. The words seemed to echo down the hall.

“Filch will have heard that for sure!” wailed Peter’s disembodied voice from their left.

James aimed, “Locomotor mortis,” he said and Severus’s body went suddenly quite rigid. “There. Leave him here and let Filch or his ruddy cat find him.”

Sirius laughed, “Yeah. Or we could push him out of the way and let nobody find him ‘til after the weekend. Maybe some time alone up here in an empty classroom would do you some good, you nasty chav.”

Remus looked sick and said quickly, with a bit of desperation to his voice, “You wouldn’t want that - when he gets found, they’ll know someone’s cast the leg locker on him, yeah? So he’ll tell them and they’ll know it was you and you’ll end up in trouble.”

“If we let him go we end up in trouble, too,” said James, “He’ll tell just the same.”

“If you let him go,” said Remus patiently, glancing over his shoulder, afraid Filch was on his way, “Then we all go our own way back to our dormitories. None of us can go to faculty right now without incriminating ourselves as well as the other person. It’s all of us or none of us, don’t you see?”

Sirius frowned.

“Please, Sirius,” Remus added, “I - I don’t want to end up in a detention or something.” He looked at Snape laying there like a strange bit of taxidermy, and he felt awful. Snape hadn’t really done anything to earn it other than be out numbered.

“Locomotor vitae,” muttered Sirius, halfheartedly flicking his wand in Severus’s direction. He turned, without saying anything, and walked on down the hallway.

James looked down at Severus. “You heard Remus,” he said threateningly, “It’s all of us or none of us. If you go getting some bloody idea of telling some teacher or something, just remember we’ll know who’s done it and you’ll be paying for it.” He stowed his wand and stormed off after Sirius.

Remus watched his back recede into the shadows, and he took a deep breath. Severus had struggled up to sitting position by now and was rubbing the spot on his neck where Sirius’s wand had pressed deeply into his skin. Suddenly a palm was being held out to him and Severus looked up to see Remus, offering him a help up.

Severus swatted the palm away. “I don’t need your help,” he snapped.

Remus’s face twitched ever so slightly at the rude attitude that Severus was throwing him - after all, he’d just kept the prat from being caught in the halls after dark. The least he could do was use a politer tone, you would think. But the features of Severus’s face were shadowed with anger. He shoved past Remus rather hard - pushing him into the invisible form of Peter rather viciously - and he left, even stormier than Sirius had.

Remus stared after him, quite stunned.