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Should’ve Been You


Thirteen muggle-borns were missing from the Great Hall that evening - thirteen families had been attacked, thirteen houses destroyed, twenty people had been killed. Mr. Evans was just one of the many parents that were killed. Dumbledore stood behind the podium at the front of the students, a very pale and pained expression on his face, his eyes sad behind his half-moon glasses. Everyone was silent as he told them what Voldemort and his followers had done. He rubbed his forehead, “It has become far too usual -- me, standing before you, telling you about some horrible occurrence… some terrible result of an attack by the one they call the Dark Lord…” he looked up over them, “I am sorry for it. I am sorry for this terrible world which you have inherited from the generations before you.” He shook his head, “I am sorry that you have such a terrible responsibility resting upon your shoulders.”

James stared at the table, nudging the salt shaker with his wand, his face solemn. Remus was crying, Sirius’s arms around him, face drawn and pale. Peter stared up at Dumbledore with wide, watery eyes. Beside James, Frank was holding Ali and rubbing her shoulder as her tears fell onto his shoulder. Frank glanced over his shoulder to look at Sirius and their eyes met and both set their jaws with determination. Silent conversations were had - swears to be the generation that ended it, that stopped it going further.

Sirius looked down the table at the first years - only six of them were there. Ollie, too, had gone home - the Kent family another of the thirteen that had been attacked. Wally stared up at the ceiling, tears falling over his face as Dexter shook his head and Liam rubbed Vivian’s back as she shivered and Macy and Darcy cried. He recognized the sick look on Wally’s face as he worried - recognized it as one he’d once worn, worrying about Remus, and he pulled Remus closer, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and closing his eyes, breathing deep the smell of comfortable jumpers and chocolate that was Remus.

James got up suddenly and walked out of the Great Hall.

Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses and he stood upright, reaching into his sleeve and produced his knotted wand. He held it into the air. “Lumos,” he announced, holding the wand over his head. “To those who we lost.”

Sirius reached in his pocket for his wand as Remus disengaged from beneath his arms, pulling his own wand out. “Lumos,” they said together, and Peter scrambled for his wand, too, “Lumos,” he whispered and Frank and Ali whispered the words and even Andy raised his wand, unseeing… All the Gryffindors raised their wands and the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs and Alabaster Jackson at the Slytherin table and then Regulus Black… and one by one even the other Slytherins - more out of obligation than desire - and the teachers all raised theirs and soon the entire Great Hall was dotted with light.

Sirius took a deep breath and, beneath it, he murmured, “This ends.”

Remus looked ‘round at him.

“I’ll bloody fight to the raw bone to keep this shit from continuing on. I’ll do whatever it takes. I don’t give a damn what it means for me. But this -- this fear that fucker Voldemort has caused… it bloody ends.”

Remus’s arm shook as he held the wand over his head, his soul shaken by the solemnity of Sirius’s tone. His throat ached. This was it, he thought. We’re officially, most definitely not kids anymore. We’ll never be kids again.




Lily Evans sat at the family dinner table. Her hands holded on her lap, her eyes glazed over, staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused, unseeing for how lost she was in her thoughts. Somewhere around her, far off it seemed, her mother was pacing, talking, saying words about life insurance policies and funeral arrangements, about burials and headstones, graves and wakes and family that needed contacting and obituaries to be written. The official coronor’s examination said heart attack or stroke, though relaly the doctors had no idea what killed Mr. Evans - no muggle doctor could have recognized the avada kedavra. It left no mark, left no trace. Only a body.

Petunia sat across from Lily, staring at her, her eyes narrowed funnily, her lips twisted in disapproval.

Mrs. Evans stopped her pacing suddenly. “Lily… there’s no way… nothing that can be done… no magic…?” Tears filled Mrs. Evans’s eyes. She knelt beside her daughter hopefully.

Lily shook her head, “There’s nothing.”

Mrs. Evans cried, “But… it’s magic…”

“And even magic has its boundaries, mum,” croaked Lily.

Mrs. Evans began to cry. Lily hugged her mother to her, cradling her as she leaned forward and closed her eyes, laying her cheek against her mum’s head.

“What bloody good is magic, then?” Tuney asked suddenly, her voice sharp and hard. She glowered across the table at Lily. “If magic can’t protect us and magic can’t save us and magic can’t bring him back - then what bloody use is the magic at all? It might as well not exist! It’s pointless and stupid and I hate it. I hate you. It’s because of you that he’s dead!” Petunia’s jaw quivered, “It’s because of you! He wouldn’t be dead if it wasn’t for you and your freak friends and your freak school and your freak world! If that Lord Voldy-thing wasn’t after you then this wouldn’t have happened - then daddy would still be here, with us!” Petunia’s eyes were filled with tears as she pointed at Lily accusingly.

Mrs. Evans gasped. “Petunia Jean!”

Petunia stood up, her eyes desperately cold. “No! Mummy, I’m done pretending. Magic has done nothing but tear us all apart.” She turned her eyes to Lily. “And now it’s killed daddy. You’re the reason he’s dead.” She jabbed the pointed finger into Lily’s face. “It should have been you.” And she turned and stormed from the room.

Lily choked on the sob that rose up from the very depths of her stomach.




That night, sitting in their dormitories, the boys were all silent. Peter hugged a pillow on his lap while James lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and Remus and Sirius sat on the edge of Remus’s bed, both staring at the floor. Suddenly, Sirius stood up and started pacing.

“Sirius,” James said after he’d paced for several long minutes, “Sit.”

Sirius looked over, “Do you feel it?”

Remus’s eyes moved up to Sirius’s face.

“The depression,” SIrius clarified. “It fills this bloody castle. Do you feel it?”

Peter had tears in his eyes as he nodded up at Sirius standing before them.

“I think our fight starts here at home. At Hogwarts, that is.” He looked around at them. His voice climbed with anger, “Fucking hell, you lot, the depression in this place is so ruddy thick --”

“Well what do you expect, Sirius!” James shouted suddenly, “Merlin’s beard, people are dead, people are dying -- good people! People who don’t deserve it!” He was flushed, “Of course everyone’s depressed, what do you want, a fucking party?!”

“I expect us to fight it!” Sirius yelled back. “I expect us not to give the Dark Lord what he’s bloody after! FUCK VOLDEMORT! Fuck him, I say! He wants us all depressed, he wants our spirits broken, well NO.” He pointed at James, “What was all that stuff you said, back in last term, when you started the Order of the Phoenix? Pretty words to recite?” Sirius stared at James with fire in his eyes and Remus shifted in his place, looking up at Sirius, catching light from him, “It’s about us all telling Voldemort we have had enough, that’s what you said James.”

James stared at Sirius in disbelief - he’d found his words worthy of remembering? A lump rose up in his throat.

“Voldemort wants tears. Let’s give him laughs.”

“Laughs?” squeaked Peter.

“We’re the Marauders.” Sirius’s words were firm. “Let’s fucking maraud the roof off this castle!”

James’s eyes were starting to glow.

“There’s so much depression here in the castle, we’ll be spawning dementors soon if it keeps up,” Sirius said, “But we can put an end to it. We can stop it. One chuckle at a time. One smile. I don’t give a fuck how many detentions it earns us, guys. Bloody hell, if we get even just one person in this castle to smile again… it’s worth anything we go through to earn it. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Remus said.

Of all of them, Sirius had expected James to agree first. Maybe Peter in an attempt to impress Sirius. He had not expected Remus to answer first.

But of course it would be Remus.

Of course because of all the boys, Remus understood the pain that was coursing through the veins of Hogwarts the very most. He was the one who had lost his mum to the Dark Mark. He was the one who had lost his dad to a time thief. He was the one who had suffered the greatest among them, the one who knew pain and loss and suffering better than all of the others combined. And he understood the importance of a smile… of a laugh… of the opportunity to get over it by forgetting it, by letting go, by replacing the tears with giggles and the hate with hope.

James squared his jaw and nodded and the answer was clear in Peter’s eyes as he stared up at Sirius. Sirius walked forward, holding his hand out. Remus placed his over Sirius’s and James and Peter stacked theirs own top too. Sirius looked around at them, “Guys… for the well being of us all, for the broken hearts of the world that need mendin’... let’s get up to no good.”

“Yes,” James whispered.

Remus wiped a tear.

Peter trembled, but kept his hand planted firmly among the others.

Sirius looked about at them. “Let’s raise hell to end Voldemort’s reign of terror.”