All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

The War : Autumn 1981

When routine bites hard

And ambitions are low

And resentment rides high

But emotions won’t grow

And we’re changing our ways

Taking different roads

Then love

Love will tear us apart again

Love

Love will tear us apart again

There was an investigation, of course. Despite months of incompetence when it came to handling death eater attacks, the Ministry still had to keep up appearances, to ensure the wizarding world still thought it was good for something. The Order conducted its own inquiry into the McKinnons’ deaths, and both had the exact same results:

Nothing.

There wasn’t a single feasible lead to follow up on who had slaughtered the family, or why—nothing beyond the dark mark left over their home. Speculation ran rampant at the next Order meeting—why had the McKinnons been targeted? Why their entire family? Was it because Danny was a werewolf? Because Marlene had healed James Potter, who Voldemort wanted dead? Was it simply because they were members of the Order?

They weren’t the only ones speculating. Danny’s lingering celebrity from his time with the Cannons was enough to make the murders front page news. The Daily Prophet slapped a huge picture of him on the front page, from his time as a pro-quidditch player – billowing robes, triumphant smile, unscarred face. There was a smaller picture of Marlene in her healer uniform, with the misspelt caption: Promising young Healer, Mylene McKinnon. There was nothing about Yasmin.

“Remember in third year,” Sirius said, after the funeral was over, “We all thought you two fancied each other.”

“Yeah.” Remus replied, in a flat, dead voice.

“She was a better beater than me.” Sirius swallowed, feeling very numb. “Wish I’d told her.”

“She knew,” Remus said, with a flicker of humour in his eyes. Sirius tried to smile at that, but found he wasn’t able.

Mary disappeared for a long while, after the funeral. Out of all of them, she was the most connected to the muggle world, and she retreated into it upon the death of her best friend. Sirius tried to reach out to her a few times, but he got the distinct impression that she wanted to be left alone; that she resented any reminder of the Order, or of magic, or the war. He supposed he couldn’t blame her.

*  *  *

September swept them into her arms soon enough, greeting them with the burnt colours of the changing leaves and the biting kiss of cold autumn breezes. Sirius found himself thinking, as he often did around this time of year, about Hogwarts. He remembered days spent traipsing through the corridors with his friends, passing notes in class, mucking about in the Gryffindor common room. They had all been so young then, so full of life and hope. And now, suddenly, he’d blinked, and four years had passed since he last set foot on the Hogwarts Express.