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Valour by blackballet

Format: Novel
Chapters: 45
Word Count: 100,067

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Contains profanity, Strong violence, Scenes of a sexual nature, Substance abuse, Sensitive topic/issue/theme

Genres: Drama, Horror/Dark, Romance
Characters: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin, James, Lily, Sirius, Pettigrew, Voldemort, OC
Pairings: James/Lily, Remus/OC, Sirius/OC, Other Pairing

First Published: 08/07/2013
Last Chapter: 06/05/2016
Last Updated: 01/12/2017

banner by me 

Life goes on

But so does death


          Innocence and arrogance combine in a story about eight newly-graduated revolutionaries. 

Chapter 13: The Trust in the Trick

 (May 1979)


Mary leaned back in her chair and kicked off her heels quickly. The work with the Order was truly tiring her out, and she couldn’t understand how Marlene did it. She was working the night shift at the Daily Prophet’s headquarters, and this is when she did her real work. She cracked her knuckles and pulled out her typewriter. She reached in the drawer to her left and pulled out the final copy of the Prophet which was set to run in two days. Now it was up to her to edit it without anyone realizing it.

It was small things, like changing renegades to civil workers. It was just supposed to help keep the efforts of the Order in a good light. It still wasn’t reporting, her true love, but it was something better than having Lucius Malfoy dictate what was printed. The only reason she even did it was for her other true love: Marlene.

She yawned and put the final copy on her desk, and got to work re-writing it. At least there was something positive about this broken down system. Mary leaned over the typewriter and started smacking the keys quickly. She glanced at the clock on her wall- it was 10 PM, and she had to be out of the building by 12 or the motion alarms would start going off.

Mary looked up from the black keys and stopped typing. She could’ve sworn she heard someone open the door on the main floor. But that couldn’t be right. Roberta was still downstairs until 11:30 anyway. Mary shook her head and shivered as her hair brushed against her neck. She rolled back her shoulders and got back to typing.

It’s been a long day. She’d been there since eight in the morning and only gone out for lunch. She heard a stair creak and slammed her hand on the desk again and pushed back from her desk.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, heading towards the door. She pushed it open and stuck her head out. It was pitch black in the long corridor, and she slipped her wand out of her cloak. “Lumos.” The corridor lit slightly, but she couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of her. “Lumos Maxima!” she said more proudly, flourishing her wand. Most of the floor lit up before her eyes, and Mary spotted nothing out of the ordinary. A few quills were littered on the floor, but that was normal. Parchment was stuffed into bins all over the floor, but that was expected.

She slammed her door shut as she went back inside her office. She yawned again upon hitting her chair, and she shook her head again.

“No one can know,” she murmured, “No one can know.”



The sun shone brightly into Mary’s office the next morning. The first final copy of the Daily Prophet was scattered on the floor next to her, and she was laid across her typewriter. The paper was certainly ruined. It read, ‘No one can know. No one can knowjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk’. After that, the k’s began to fade out until the typewriter ran out of ink. Mary snorted as she woke up and shook her head nervously. She was breathing heavily, and looked around for the final edition before she spotted it in disarray on the floor.

“Good morning, Mary.” Mary’s mouth dropped open and she began hyperventilating. “Now that’s not a good idea,” the deep voice warned, wagging a finger as Mary stood up and looked to the door. A large man, cloaked completely in black, sat opposite Mary in the chair across from her desk. It was she could do to stop from crying or laughing or a mixture of both. Here was a man in a black cloak with an indistinguishable face and gloved hands sitting in the small wooden chair meant for prospective clients. Mary clamped her mouth shut and sat in her chair silently. The two stared each other down, or Mary would’ve done if she could see his eyes.

“What can I do for you?” Her voice wavered, but her body did not. Mary almost felt him smile.

“We would like you do the same for us.” Mary frowned deeply in genuine confusion.

“What do you mean?” The man stood up.

We, would like you to do the same for us.” Mary’s mouth fell open again upon realizing who, what, this was.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stuttered out. She leaned back in her chair and attempted to kick the papers under her desk.

“Mary. You can do many things. One thing you cannot do is play dumb.” Mary swallowed deeply and sat up straight in her chair again. “You will continue your collaboration with the Order of the Phoenix, and will additionally stop any press about the Death Eaters from being released. You will not tell anyone about this. If the Order of the Phoenix is contacted about this matter, your family will be killed.” The man stuck his hand inside his cloak and pulled out photos of her mother, father, and twin brothers.

Mary’s hand went to her mouth and tears started streaming down her face without warning. They were just simple enchanted photos. Some of her mother getting groceries, one of her father coming back from his office, and a couple of the twins playing football.

“How can you?” she asked desperately, grasping the pictures and feeling overwhelmingly guilty that she hadn’t visited them in the past four months.

"Goodbye Mary." The man walked out of her room without another word. She sat back in her office chair, confused as to how no one else noticed the mysterious figure coming out onto the main floor. She just could not believe any of this. She was muggleborn. What would they want with her anyway?



Peter was very, very tired. It was hard to face his mother. She did not speak to him anymore, but at least he could sneak in and be with her when she was sleeping. He was pretty sure she hated him, and he understood why. He hated himself too. The bell rang out from the basement, and Peter woke from his trance. He picked up the tray with the sunny-side up egg. There was a smiley-face made of bacon, and a glass of orange juice.

He walked downstairs precariously into the darkness. He switched on the light, and illuminated the small room with a bed, a television, and a small bathroom with a shower. His mother, frail but strong, lay on the bed silently and waited for her son to leave the tray on her small table.

“Eggs and bacon, mum,” Peter said quietly, not meeting his mother’s eyes. She kept still on the bed, and Peter turned to head back upstairs. He heard a knock at the door and rushed up the stairs, shutting the door quietly behind him. He tossed the pans in the sink quickly and flicked his wand to shut any drawers and cabinets he’d opened. He tossed his wand across the room and ran his hand through his stringy hair.

He peered through the small peephole, and saw a strange woman standing outside his home. She looked vaguely familiar. She pulled at her fingers anxiously, and shook her head slightly.

“Who is it?” Peter asked cautiously.

“It’s Mare-Bare!” she said cheerfully. She didn’t have a smile on her face. In fact, she looked rather gaunt. Mary had told him about that nickname. He opened the door and plastered a smile on his face.

“Marcia!” he exclaimed, dragging her into a reluctant hug. He felt Mary shivering beneath him, and took her inside the house. “Accio,” he whispered. His wand flew over to his hand, and he aimed it at the blinds. They turned down gradually, and Mary took a seat in the windowless corner of the small dining room. He turned to face her, and rushed over to sit next to her at the table. Mary shook her head again as the Polyjuice Potion she’d taken wore off.

“Peter, it’s me, Mary.” Peter nodded and rubbed the back of her hand.

“I know, Mary, I know. What are you doing here?” he asked desperately.

“I don’t know if I can,” she trailed off, her eyes darting around quickly. Her hair was the last thing to return to normal, and her overgrown fringe finally reflected her true image.

“It’s safe here. The house is safe, I promise.” Peter knew what this was about. He was hoping for Mary to come to him and not Marlene. He could only be grateful she did.

“You-Know-Who…he wants me to…edit the Prophet!” she sputtered out, laughing wetly as her hot tears started falling rapidly. “The Order of the Phoenix and The Death Eaters want me to do my job!” Peter patted her on the back awkwardly, but she didn’t notice. She shuddered again and started sobbing loudly. She started screaming as she cried. She was drooling on the table and sniffling through her tears. Her sobs ripped open throat in a way that had never been done before.

“It will be okay, Mary.” She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, but nothing came out. She howled louder and gripped Peter’s forearm tightly. She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm, but nothing would stop her sobbing.

“Why would he think I can do this?” she choked out, her voice ravaged by her crying. Peter let her hang onto him as she started up again.

“Who?” Peter asked earnestly, excited that she was able to talk again.

“Dublemore!” she said through sniffles. “Why would he ask me?” she screamed, throwing her body down on the table in front of her.

“Because you are strong enough,” Peter reassured her. Mary coughed uncontrollably and Peter hit her on the back. More spit flew out of her mouth, and Peter scrunched his nose, but cleaned his table with a wave of his wand.  Mary couldn’t regulate her breathing, and Peter continued rubbing her back caringly. “You were chosen for this for a reason.”

“I have no reason. I’m not chosen. I’m just Mary,” she whispered. “And I can’t take this anymore.” Mary breathed loudly, sniffling every now and then as Peter sat in silence with her.

“I think you should do it,” he said quickly. He avoided her gaze as Mary looked to him in surprise. She furrowed her brow, and her lips quivered as tears rose up in her eyes again.

“Peter,” she said in disbelief.

“Mary, I’m not joking.” She shuddered again and let Peter hug her tightly. He sighed with determination. “I don’t think there’s anything else you can do.”

“I’m really scared, Peter.” Peter nodded in sympathy.

“I know exactly how you feel,” he stammered out, looking to the basement door.



“Either way, I wouldn’t trust her if she pledged herself to the Order and killed Voldemort herself.” Sirius took another sip of water sulkily as the other three boys took swigs from their butterbeer.

“C’mon, Padfoot. She’s not all bad,” James interjected, looking to Peter quickly who was silently picking at his fingernails.

“The last time we trusted her she abandoned us!”

“We were seventeen,” Remus rationalized. “Hell, we were all scared.”

“I wasn’t,” Sirius said proudly, sitting up straighter and smirking cockily.

“That’s ‘cos you’re stupid,” Peter muttered into his glass. Sirius laughed and pat Peter on the back.

“That’s true, Pete.” Peter sat up, his back stiffening.

“And we all know the real reason you don’t trust Mary,” he snarled. Remus covered his mouth and snorted into his palm. James looked warily from Peter to Sirius.

“You think I still care about that?” Peter cowered slightly under Sirius’ fiery temper. “We don’t all hang on to our school crushes, Peter.” Peter’s nose twitched as Sirius dismissed him and turned to talk to James.

“Hey,” Peter squeaked out. “Watch what you say about Mary.” He said angrily, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up.

“What are you going to do about it?” Sirius threatened Peter, turning away from James to face him.

“Sirius.” James grabbed Sirius’ arm, and Sirius looked back at James. Sirius shrugged his arm out of James’ hand.

“Its fine, James,” Sirius said casually, waving him off. He took off the ring on his pinky finger and tossed it on the table. “Wormtail just wants to let off a little steam, isn’t that right, Pete?” Peter’s mouth tightened and his nostrils flared.

“In the middle of your flat?” Remus asked in boredom, picking up the Order of the Phoenix ring and toying with it before tossing it back on the table.

“If need be,” Sirius said dangerously, leering at Peter. “Just like Mary. She’ll do anything in the middle of your house, won’t she Peter?” he asked suggestively.

“Is there a reason you need to be so provocative?” James asked lazily, taking off his glasses and rubbing them in his shirt.

“It’s my strong suit, Prongs. Just like Mary,” he gritted out through his teeth.

“Just shut it, Sirius!” Peter growled.

“Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary,” Sirius mocked joyfully. “Mary listens to me, Mary likes me, Mary doesn’t like the other marauders,” he said in a high-pitched voice. Peter threw out his fist and punched Sirius square on the nose.

Peter and James looked at each other in surprise as Sirius stumbled back into his chair. He pinched his nose, sat down, and glanced up at Peter through his hair. He raised his eyebrows as Peter’s nose twitched again.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it Peter?” he asked cockily. He grabbed a handkerchief from his jean pocket and held it up to his nose.

“You are such an aggravating prat,” Peter said moodily and sat down in his chair again, shaking his hand as a bruise began to form.

“I know Pete. But I’m sure you feel better.”

“I would’ve felt better if you’d just backed off.”

“Alright!” Remus interjected, grabbing Peter’s hand and waving his wand over it to help the swelling go down. “You are all children, you know?” he said as James bent over in silent laughter.

“It’s all in good fun, right Peter?” Sirius looked at Peter intensely. Peter glared back at Sirius.

“You’re a terrible friend, Sirius,” he answered, scoffing and tossing his ring back to him.

“Sorry Peter. I don’t trust Mary McDonald.” James and Remus looked at each other again quickly.

“Yeah, well…you should.”



A/N: So, come on. How many of you saw this coming?