sacrificial lamb
After what seems like forever but is only a week, the Order sets to work on killing and defeating the Dark Lord at long last. Dumbledore and Moody work them hard, ensuring that the Order members actively work on accomplishing something.
Dan, with the help of Sirius, is tasked to train the Order members in duelling. Lily and Severus take charge of spellwork and runes. The only magical discipline the woman doesn’t excel at, Blair thinks, fondly this time, is flying.
She thinks ruefully back to the time when she felt bitter to see muggleborns navigate the magical world so effortlessly. She realizes now that it is from sheer force of will, a sense of discipline honed early on by people thrust suddenly and without warning into a world that doesn’t even completely welcome them. Their facility is born out of necessity. She understands that now.
Blair and Lucius, on the other hand, are tasked with anticipating Death Eater presence and the Dark Lord’s strategy. She laughs at the irony that she is betraying pureblood society with a man once intended for her. She thanks Merlin and Morgana that their planned future did not come to pass.
Blair, too, takes it upon herself to teach everyone to channel their intent. Even Moody is reluctantly impressed.
“Guess those Black family books are worth something,” he grumbles.
Blair resists the urge to snark back. Instead, she prays internally for the continued survival of her twin.
-
The Order’s skirmishes with Death Eaters are almost daily now.
Every day, Voldemort and his followers find another muggleborn residence, light-aligned stronghold, or wizarding area to attack. It is as if he is trying to slowly exhaust them and weed the Order out, waiting for them to relent.
He doesn’t accompany his death eaters, of course. Even prior to Regulus and Blair’s stunning betrayal, he is careful not to join the death eater raids to cultivate his mystique. Now, especially, Voldemort is warier because he is whittled down to his barest minimum.
It is because of this that the Order decides that to end it all, they must storm the Malfoy Manor. No longer should they cower in their hideaway, waiting for the Dark Lord to find them and strike. No longer should they wring their hands, wondering about Voldemort’s next move. They must hit him at his very heart and home to fully banish him from the world he has so successfully oppressed.
Magic is about intent, after all. They must be deliberate in every action, and that includes finding and killing him in his own chosen lair. The Dark Lord is at his strongest when he makes the move and when others hide in the shadows. No longer.
Lily and Severus find in the Grimmauld library a runic sequence that drains the magical energy of a powerful witch or wizard if the runes are drawn onto the skin of three people who are in the presence of the wix.
This is the easy part.
All magic has consequences, of course, and the runic sequence is no exception. Anyone with those runes etched on their skin risks the possibility of losing life and limb because the spell will render the rune users magically vulnerable for a certain amount of time. Magic gives and magic takes away.
Much argument ensues over who will wear these runes.
“Let’s just capture Death Eaters and bring them with us when we go to the manor,” Kingsley Shacklebolt says.
“Better yet, we can just nick whatever Death Eater we find when we do get there,” Frank Longbottom suggests. Even though he and Alice are hunted by the Dark Lord, they, too, have decided not to shy away from the fight. Blair rolls her eyes. Gryffindors.
Both Lily and Severus shoot this down immediately.
“Magic works on intent, so the runes would work better on someone who is willing.” Lily argues. “We can’t risk our plan on a few captured Death Eaters!”
“Besides,” Snapes says coldly. “Skilled at runes as we are, that doesn’t mean we can hastily draw them on when we do get there. What do you think we are? Magicians?”
Eventually, much to Sirius’s and James’s horror, Remus Lupin is chosen to be the first potential sacrifice. Werewolves have larger magical cores to accommodate their monthly transformation, he argues, so the risk to his well-being is much less pronounced than for a normal wix.
Dumbledore volunteers himself as the next one. The whole Order protests at the possible sacrifice of their leader. “If we’re talking about magical cores,” he twinkles, “then I simply must volunteer. “
Severus nods slowly. “The headmaster’s powerful magical core will indeed aid in powering the spell.”
Silence reigns as the Order ponders on the third sacrifice.
Lily steps forward. “I volunteer.” Blair inwardly seethes. Her stubborn, impetuous, self-sacrificing Gryffindor… friend.
A panicked cry comes from James. “No, Lils!”
“If this is what it takes to protect Harry, then so be it,” Lily says stonily.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lily. I’ll do it instead,” James argues. “I won’t let our son grow up without his mother.”
“No, James,” Lily grits out. “You need to teach our son to wield the Potter family magic.” Her expression is hard; her face almost shrewish.
James splutters. Blair feels faintly relieved that her friends’ love story is more relatable than others’ ridiculous whisperings of a fairy tale romance would have them believe.
The couple continues arguing while the rest of the Order only watches, transfixed.
It looks like they will come to an impasse until Severus steps in. “I’ll do it,” he says quietly.
Lily eyes him warily. “Sev, you don’t have to - “
Severus raises a hand to silence her. “I’m not doing it for you, Lily.” He pauses, then turns to both Lily and James. “I’m doing this for the both of you.” He takes a look at Remus and Sirius. “And for the both of you as well. It’s time we bury the hatchet.”
Lily sighs, then suddenly throws her arms around Severus. “Oh Sev, you never do things halfway, do you?”
The rest of the Marauders awkwardly join in, patting Severus on the back.
James ruffles his hand through his hair and looks at Severus with an unreadable expression on his face. “Just stay alive to be the godfather of our next child, yeah?”
The rest of the Order bursts into laughter. Dumbledore gives them all an impish grin.
War does indeed make for strange bedfellows.
-
One night, the lot of them gather at the ballroom. Frank Longbottom squirrels some firewhiskey and butterbeer into Grimmauld. Sirius charms the suits of armor to play modern music. James transfigures the chandeliers into what look like muggle disco lights.
“My mother would turn in her grave,” Blair sniffs.
Dan sidles in beside her. “She’s already turning in her grave knowing that you’re in my bed every night, Blair.” He grins cheekily.
Blair elbows him in the ribs. “Try not to imply that we’re sleeping with each other in front of my brothers, Humphrey. They might hex you.”
Dan twirls a lock of Blair’s hair. “I think they’re rather more scared of what you’d do to me.”
“Just get married already!” James shouts.
Dan smiles. “We will, after all this.”
“I mean now! Dumbledore can officiate!” James gesticulates as he throws one arm around Sirius. Lily slaps him playfully.
The rest of the room looks at the couple with a sense of expectation.
Blair takes a deep breath, but Dan has already shaken his head. She gifts him with a genuine smile.
“Not now, you dolts. Behave,” she admonishes.
Marrying now would seem like a farewell, like they are admitting that there’s a possibility they won’t make it out alive.
Blair won’t allow that.
Besides, she will hold Dan to his promise. They have a lavish wedding to plan.