[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Our Own Resistance


James’s next Animagus lesson with Professor McGonagall was scheduled for the night of 2 March, and he had thought up the way to get out of it - and to tell Minnie he wasn’t going to continue lessons… He brought along Remus and Peter to her office the night of the lesson. Professor McGonagall looked quite surprised by the arrival of three Marauders to their secret lessons and she raised her eyebrow, “What is the meaning of this, Potter?” she questioned as they walked up to where she stood waiting in the doorway of her office in the Transfiguration corridor.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he said, “But we need to talk to you, it’s really important, and this was the only time I knew you’d be available, uninterrupted.”

McGonagall’s eyebrows creased and she looked over Remus and Peter to see how nervous Peter Pettigrew looked and how squared off Remus’s jaw was. “Is everything alright?” she questioned.

“No, Professor,” said James, “It’s not. And that’s why we need to talk to you for.”

She hurriedly ushered them into the office and closed the door behind them, locking it.

They took their seats before her desk as she came back around it and sat, too. James’s throat was tight when he glanced at the bookshelf and saw her collection of tea cups - including his own - and he tried very hard not to think about how excited Professor McGonagall had been about his ambitions… He looked up at her and cleared his throat to steady his voice, and said, “Professor, we want to join the Resistance.”

Professor McGonagall’s voice was a hardline. “No.”

“Professor --” James started, but she cut him off.

“Absolutely not. I refuse to allow anymore children to be fighting this war. No.”

“I beg your pardon, Professor,” Remus spoke up, “But we’re not children anymore, we’re very nearly men. After all, James and I are just about to be fifteen within the month and Peter’s not that far off…”

“You are not men,” McGonagall replied, “You are boys. A man would know that fifteen is far too young an age to be directly involved in a war!”

“We already are directly involved, Professor,” Peter said.

“Yeah, we’ve already fought You Know Who loads of times,” James said, “We’re ready now, Professor.”

McGonagall shook her head, “You don’t know what it is you’re signing up for. We’ve already lost two of our boys - Derek Bell and Alex Tinnamin. And you all know about poor Bilius Weasley by now, I expect. I don’t need to be allowing the lot of you in and losing you as well!” Her voice was clipped.

Remus looked up, “Professor,” he said, and she turned her eyes to his, “I’d rather die like Derek Bell and Alex Tinnamin than live in a world where Voldemort has power. He’d kill us lot on sight whether we are in the resistance or not - he already is after each of us. I’d rather fight than cower down. And honestly, Professor, you need us. You need every hand.”

McGonagall felt a rush of memories flood her and suddenly in her mind she was sitting in the low-lit room off the Great Hall, comforting Amelia Salt the night that her father had been killed… and there was Bilius Weasley, his fiery hair and impassioned eyes staring into hers… begging her for the right to fight with words so desperately similar to what Remus had just said. Bilius Weasley, when he was whole and unbroken, when he had the world before him, a future and hope burning in his eyes… a flicker that had been snuffed with the death of his closest friends. She thought of Derek Bell, his blonde hair and classic smile - and Alex Tinnamin, with his black hair and almond-shaped eyes - how young and free those boys had been, how bold and brave… They’d been good boys, they’d been brave boys. They’d all deserved the happy lives that they’d been destined to have…

If Derek Bell hadn’t joined the Resistance, today he’d be married to Chriselda Blythe, they’d have children most likely, they’d be happy together. He’d be studying dragons, like he’d always dreamed. And poor Alex Tinnamin -- he had been married, to a girl from his year that had been in Hufflepuff, and they’d just found out that they were expecting a child when he’d been killed at the Lestrange manor… And Bilius Weasley, of course… she’d just been to see him that very day. Sitting in a hospital room, playing a miserable game of chess with a worn out Mungo’s-issued set, surrounded by people who had completely lost their minds, wandering about a recreation hall… Bilius the sanest one there, his voice cracking around the edges as he told her, “I’m not crazy. I saw the Grim, Minnie. I really did. Nobody believes me… do you?” and she’d nodded, though she didn’t really… she just hadn’t wanted him to feel alone in the world. “Tell them, Minnie. Tell them I’m not mad!” he had begged.

She looked at Remus. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lupin,” she said thickly, “But no. When you are of age, when you have graduated Hogwarts --”

“He’ll be bloody dead by then,” James said hotly. “Or else risen to power and impossible to defeat!”

McGonagall looked at him, “Mr. Potter, I am sorry, but you cannot and will not join the Resistance. That is my final word!” her voice was as stern as she could possibly make it.

James stood up. “Well, Professor,” he said, and his tone was just as equally sharp-edged as hers was, “Then we won’t join your Resistance.”

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed.

“We’ll bloody start our own. And all the people you say can’t join yours can join ours and we’ll bloody fight Voldemort ourselves!” He turned to Remus and Peter, “C’mon.”

“Mr. Potter!” McGonagall stood up and hurried to block them off from leaving, stepping between them and the door. “Absolutely not!”

James looked up at her, his jaw set, his eyes apologetic, but burning with the promise that he meant the words he was about to say -- “You can’t stop me.”

McGonagall snapped, “We can!”

“You can’t. You haven’t yet. We’ve faced Voldemort and his followers multiple times now. We’ve found a way to do it every time. We’ll find a way again. We’re the bloody Marauders, Professor!” James shook his head, “And we’re going to be the ones who do Voldemort in. And you bloody can’t stop us from fighting. If we die, we die. But we’ll die fighting him!”

Tears filled Professor McGonagall’s eyes as James pushed ‘round her, followed by Remus and Peter and she clutched the edge of her bookshelf as the door slammed.




“We aren’t seriously going to start our own resistance, are we?” Remus hissed, scrambling along behind James as they walked swiftly back toward Gryffindor Tower, “I mean, honestly, McGonagall’s right, we are a bit young, but -- I mean, we’d be handy paired up with the adults, just… how much good are we going to be on our own?” He was wildly wide-eyed.

“Yeah we’re just kids, James!” Peter said.

James stopped and turned to look at them. “Voldy uses kids all the bloody time. Remember Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater when he was here! Looking in that mirror all the time, taking orders from his ruddy master! And Severus Snape was with him, too, and I’m betting Evan Rosier and his lot and Regulus Black, too. If he isn’t afraid to use kids then neither should the Resistance. Fight fire with fire. And furthermore, we have information and the element of surprise. Voldemort isn’t expecting us to fight - he’s expecting them. He probably has spies all over all the members of the Resistance. He probably knows their plans, their strikes. He has no idea about us. No idea what we could be planning.”

Remus hissed, “But the Resistance has access to a lot more resources than we do - they have much more powerful wizards than we are to help them.”

“So we recruit. We recruit people from higher years and other houses and anyone that wants to fight the ruddy Dark Lord, anyone that they won’t let join because they think they’re too young or too incapable or whatever the bloody hell they say no for. If someone wants to fight Voldemort then they’re in, whatever their age, whatever their blood status, whatever! If you hate You Know Who then you’re on our team. If you’re against him, then you’re on our team. That’s all there is to it.”

Remus stared at James, “You sound like Sirius with how reckless you’re talking.”

Peter nodded.

“It’s not reckless,” James said. He stared at Remus, “Do you want to live in a world where you call Voldemort Lord? Do you want to live in a world where you bow down so that your nose touches the floor before him? Where muggles are tortured and killed and muggle-borns aren’t allowed to practice magic? Where they’re slaves and they’re treated like rubbish? Where people you love are murdered because he doesn’t see worth in them? Do you want to live in a world where Voldemort is King over all of us and we’re all broken and there isn’t any hope left because he’s drained it all from us, as though he were dementor ruling over the earth?”

“No,” whispered Remus, “Of course not.”

“Then we have to fight.”

Peter trembled. “How do we do it, though?” he asked.

James looked at him, “That part I dunno yet. But Sirius would know.”

Remus nodded.




It was late - so late it was nearly early. Snuffles snuck down the hallway and, crouching before James’s bedroom door, he turned into Sirius. Sirius stared at the moonlight coming under the crack of Charlus and Dora’s bedroom door and he reached up and quietly turned the handle on James’s door, being careful to push it open without a creak. He slid through the door the moment he could and, equally carefully, pushed it closed behind him. He stood up and crossed the room to the window, reaching to unlatch it and pushed it open.

The cold March wind breezed in, billowing the curtains, and with it came the brown feathery form of Bubo. Sirius closed the window behind her and turned as she landed on the perch that stood beside James’s dresser. She had a letter tied to her leg and Sirius hurried over to undo the string that held it there, reaching into a jar of owl treats James had left on the desk and giving three to tie Bubo over while he read the letter and wrote a reply. Sirius sat down on the bed and unrolled the parchment, looking over James’s messy, loopy writing.


Sirius,
I tried to tell Minnie about everything you told us of what’s going on, but things went a bit sour and I’ve decided that if we’re going to do something about it, we must do it ourselves. The Resistance refuses to allow what they call “children” to fight You Know Who. Well we aren’t children. We haven’t been children for a very long time, really. It’s stupid they won’t let us fight him! We’ve proven ourselves capable. And so I think it’s time we take matters into our own hands.
I want to start our own Resistance. You and me and Remus and Peter and I’m sure there are others - like Frank Longbottom for example - that would gladly join us if we were to begin it. A Resistance for those who the Resistance refuses to allow to join - a Resistance for the rebels, for the “kids” that are fighting for their own futures. We fight in the memory of Derek Bell and Alex Tinnamin, in honor of Bilius Weasley. We fight in their spirits with their bravery! Against the people we know are most evil, like your parents! We accept any who wants to fight.
What do you think?
J.P.


Sirius stared at the letter and felt adrenaline rushing into his veins.

“You’re bloody brilliant, Potter,” he whispered, and he got up, carrying the parchment to the desk and he rummaged about in the drawers until he found a quill and pulled a bit of parchment from a stationary set James had left behind.


Prongs, you’re positively brilliant.
We’re just as strong as any in the Resistance. Perhaps we don’t have the age and “experience” that they do, but we are learning more and more everyday and none of them started out with anymore experience than we’ve got now! I think it’s a grand idea and I back it wholeheartedly. I think we absolutely need to make this happen as quickly as possible. When is the next Hogsmeade weekend? It’s got to be rather soon, hasn’t it? Let me know. What you should do is round up everyone who’s interested in it and we’ll meet in Hogsmeade. I’ll do what I can to get there to meet with you lot.
They can’t keep us down. We have fire in us, and Voldemort might try to quench it but no matter what he does he can’t destroy us. Every time he tries, we’ll rise up from the ashes of his attempts to bring us down. We’ll rise up like a phoenix - from death and destruction will come beauty and healing. We’ll show Voldy exactly who we are and what kind of strength he’s fighting against. You’re right - it’s our future that’s being fought for - we are the ones that should be doing the fighting! We take no orders except our own -- the orders of the phoenix.
Write me back with the Hogsmeade date as soon as possible.
Tell Rey I love him.
Padfoot.