Eclipsed

January 30th, Lily’s nineteenth birthday, dawned bright and crisp, a perfect backdrop for the celebration James had planned. The Potter’s house, with its warm, inviting atmosphere, was the ideal setting for a gathering of friends. A long table was laden with an array of delicacies: Effie's samosas and pakoras on a tray next to Lily's favorite shepherd's pie, courtesy of Rose Evans, a rich chocolate cake adorned with candles, and a selection of cheeses and crackers for the more discerning palates.

As guests began to arrive, a flurry of excited chatter filled the room. Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas, their voices a blend of laughter and poorly concealed gossiping, occupied one corner, their animated conversation punctuated by the clinking of glasses. Sirius and Remus, recovered from their argument and the resulting terrible full moon, sat cozily on the couch across from the fireplace, a blanket settled around Remus’ shoulders, cups of cocoa in both their hands. Christopher, Dorcas' muggle boyfriend, stood by her side, a silent observer of the magic that seemed to permeate the Potters’ house, and the party overall. 

Rose, Lily's mother, had arrived earlier in the day, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the anticipated chaos. She was already ensconced in the armchair by the fire, a steaming cup of tea in her hand, engaged in a lively conversation with Effie and Fleamont.

The party was in full swing. Friends from Hogwarts, Broomhaven, and beyond were scattered around the room, their laughter echoing against the high ceilings. Music pulsed through the air, a mix of Muggle and Wizarding tunes, creating a vibrant atmosphere. Lily, radiant as always in her short muggle dress and tights beneath an attractively-cut robe, was the center of attention, her laughter ringing out loudly as she greeted and chatted with her friends.

James, ever the host, circulated through the crowd both on his own and on Lily’s arm, ensuring everyone was having a good time and doing his best to dull the anxiety threatening to take hold over him. Unlike most of his anxieties, though, this was more excitement than fear of the worst. 

As the night wore on, the music began to slow down, replaced by soft conversation and shared laughter. James, sensing the right moment, asked Lily to join him as he made his way over to the fireplace, his heart pounding in his chest as he cleared his throat and waved his arm. 

"I need everyone's attention for a moment," he called out, his voice cutting through the music. The room fell silent, a hush descending over the partygoers.

"As you all know," he began, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, "today is Lily's birthday." A chorus of cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, a testament to how loved she was by her friends, or at the very least, how much they’d all had to drink.

"Lily," he continued, "you have brought so much joy into my life. You are my best friend, my confidante, and the love of my life."

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their attention to the couple. Lily's face was flushed with a mixture of surprise and delight.

“I know I haven't always been the easiest person to be around, darling," James admitted, his voice sincere. "There were times, especially during the first few years of school, when I was a massive prat, to be honest. But you never gave up on me. You saw the good in me, even when I didn't see it myself. And after my… Well, you know... your support and love helped me get through some very dark days."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. "Lily Evans," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "you are the most incredible woman I know. You are kind, you are brave, and you are the love of my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, making you forget I was ever such an arse. Will you marry me?"

A gasp of surprise followed by a chorus of cheers filled the room. Lily's eyes, glistening with unshed tears, stepped forward, her face radiant with happiness.

"Yes," she said, her voice wavering over the cheers from their friends.

As the room erupted in applause and congratulations, James slipped the ring onto Lily's finger. As soon as it was on, Lily pulled him into a sweet kiss, and the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving them in a moment suspended in time, only broken up by their friends rushing forward to see the ring, and congratulate them up close. 

Mary, her eyes sparkling with tears of happiness, hugged Lily tightly. "I'm so incredibly happy for you both," she whispered.

Peter came up first and slapped James on the back. "About time you put a ring on it, Potter," he said with a grin. "I'll be buying the first round of drinks on your stag night."

Sirius, his eyes twinkling with mischief, raised a toast. "To the happy couple!"

Even Remus, who’d been quite subdued as of late, offered a warm smile. "Congratulations, you two. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

Lily's mother, Rose, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, embraced her daughter tightly. "I'm so happy for you, darling," she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and joy. "James, you make her so happy. Thank you."

James, overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support, squeezed Lily's hand. "I promise to make her even happier," he replied, his voice filled with determination.

The party continued, the air now filled with a newfound joy and celebration. James and Lily danced the night away, their laughter echoing through the room, and their hearts filled with hope and anticipation for the future.

As the night drew to a close, some guests began to leave, their farewells filled with warmth and well wishes, while a couple others had decided to stay, and like old times, set up sleeping bags in the living room. The room was bathed in a warm glow, the crackling fire casting dancing shadows on the walls. Soft laughter and hushed conversations filled the air, creating a comforting ambiance. James and Lily, nestled on the couch, talked quietly, hypothesizing over wedding plans and future children’s names. 

Suddenly, the room was illuminated by an ethereal blue light. A shimmering, silver patronus, speaking in the unmistakable voice of Dumbledore, materialized as a phoenix in the center of the living room.

The room fell silent, everyone's attention drawn to the spectral figure. Dumbledore's voice, clear and urgent, echoed through the room. "Lupin. I need you here at Hogwarts immediately. A matter of utmost urgency has arisen."

The room was plunged into a stunned silence as the patronus disappeared. Remus, his face paling visibly, stood up abruptly. "I have to go," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Sirius stood up, his eyes narrowed as he placed a hand on Remus’ waist. "Really, Remus?" he asked, his frustration audible. “Now?”

Remus hesitated, his gaze fixed on the place where the patronus had been. "Dumbledore needs me," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of fear and resignation. "He's sent for me, and I have to go now."

With a quick apology to his friends, Remus turned and apparated with a loud crack, disappearing into the night. A heavy silence descended upon the room, the only sound the crackling of the fire.

Something was clearly amiss. Since when would research be so urgent that it needed to happen in the middle of the night? 

"We have to go talk to Dumbledore," Sirius said as he stepped closer to James, his voice low. "See what this is about."

James nodded, a sense of unease creeping into his heart. “Tomorrow, alright?” He couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

The morning of January 31st dawned with a chill in the air that seemed to seep into Sirius’ bones. The memory of Remus' abrupt departure the night before hung heavy in the air, and as he pulled on his trainee healer robes, the familiar green fabric offering a sense of comfort and purpose, Sirius decided that he and James would visit Dumbledore that evening, to demand answers about Remus so-called research. 

But first, he had to focus on the present, on the patients who needed him, the healers he would be working alongside.

Arriving at the hospital, the usual bustle of activity was amplified by a sense of urgency. Whispers and hushed conversations filled the air, a palpable tension hanging over the lobby. As he stepped through the entrance and made his way towards the As he approached the emergency ward, the full extent of the disaster unfolded before him. 

Patients, young and old lay injured and unconscious, their bodies bearing the gruesome marks of dark magic. A cold dread settled in Sirius’s stomach as he recognized the familiar signs of the Dark Arts – curses, hexes, and the chilling signature of unforgivable curses.

The same dark magic that had claimed so many lives on Halloween was back. 

“Sirius,” a head healer called out, her voice filled with a mix of relief and urgency. “We need all hands on deck. There was a widespread series of attacks last night on Muggle-born Ministry workers and their families.”

A wave of nausea washed over him as he joined the other healers in tending to the wounded. As the morning wore on, the extent of the damage became clear. The casualty count was rising by the minute, and the hospital was struggling to cope.

Sirius worked tirelessly, his mind numb to the physical exhaustion. He moved from one patient to the next, his hands a blur of healing magic. But as the hours passed, a growing sense of despair crept into his heart. This was not just a random attack; it was a declaration of war, a sinister message aimed at the very core of the wizarding world.

As Sirius moved through the chaos of the hospital, treating patients and offering what comfort he could, he began to piece together a disturbing puzzle. The attacks, while undeniably the work of dark forces, seemed to have an undercurrent of something else.

As he treated a young witch, maybe ten or eleven years old, they fell into conversation, his attempt to distract her from the complicated and painful healing magic he was attempting to perform on her shoulder. Somehow, though, it all came back to the events of the night before. She spoke of the terror of the attack, the suddenness of the violence. But then, her voice took on a different tone. “There were other people there too,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “People who weren’t Aurors. They were fighting too- they saved me.”

The girl hesitated, a flicker of fear crossing her face. “I don’t know who they were,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “They were cloaked, their faces hidden. But they... they protected us.”

Intrigue and suspicion warred within Sirius. Who were these mysterious figures? What was their connection to the attacks? And why were they keeping their identities hidden? Questions swirled in his mind, a growing sense of unease settling over him.

As he continued his rounds,  the girl’s words echoed in his mind, and the weight of the situation settled over him. The attacks were more complex than he had initially thought, especially if there were more than one group of people attacking. If so, where were those people's injured, or dead? Or were they a somehow invincible group?

As he continued his work, the girl’s words echoed in his mind, and Sirius couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story, a hidden layer of complexity that he was only beginning to glimpse. For now, though, his focus had to remain on the injured, on the victims who needed his help.

The day was a blur of healing spells, life-saving potions, and endless waves of injured patients. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the hospital, Sirius emerged from the chaos, his body aching and his mind exhausted. The attacks had taken a heavy toll, not just on the victims, but on the healers as well.

As he made his way home, the weight of the day's events settled over him. The plan to visit Dumbledore, to demand answers about Remus' mysterious work, seemed insignificant in the face of a seemingly larger threat.