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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 37: The Violence in the Vengeance

 (May 15th, 1981)


“Did anyone else hear that?” Peter asked over the bustle of the Order of the Phoenix. The new recruits were being introduced. He couldn’t be bothered to learn their names, because everything lately to him was like a buzzing noise. Except for that knocking. That knocking was going to be a problem for Peter if no one else could hear it.

“I did,” Marlene voiced curiously, standing up from her seat and flipping shut the book she’d been engrossed in. Peter tilted his head to the side as it sounded again. One rarely heard the knock of a door in the headquarters.

“I heard it, too,” Remus said, folding up a paper he was scanning through and tossing it to the table. “Everyone quiet!” he yelled suddenly. The room hushed. Moody even stopped talking, unaccustomed to Remus’ outbursts. The knocking was very clear now. One could almost see the small room to which they were confined shaking with the force of it.

“Who is knocking on the front door?” Moody growled, turning on his heel and scanning the room for a sign of weakness.

“Help!” a small voice bawled from outside. His eye widened as the knocking continued.

“It’s the dead girl,” she cried again, causing a chorus of gasps from Marlene and Dorcas. “Tell the giant blonde one!” Everyone turned to look at Dorcas, some more obviously than others. She opened her mouth to explain, but Moody held up a hand to silence her.

“Wait here,” he whispered in the only way that Moody could. Angrily. “Meadowes with me.” Dorcas nodded, swallowed, and rushed out as Moody began the trek down the hallway. “What the bloody hell is this about?” he hissed as they approached the door.

“I’m going to sound crazy, and I can explain more another time, but I think it’s Emmeline Vance,” she said quickly before he had a chance to interrupt her. Moody stopped in his tracks, and Dorcas looked around the side of his head to see he was squinting with his one good eye.

“Sir?” she questioned, fearing for his sanity. Moody swiveled around to face Dorcas and pointed his finger at her.

“What is the meaning of this, Meadowes?” Dorcas shook her head and leaned back as Moody looked up at her menacingly.

“I can’t really explain too much. But if she’s hurt, you’re going to want to let her in.”

“And why in Merlin’s name would I do that?” he sneered, swiveling his eye to the back of his head and looking through the door to Emmeline again. Dorcas took a deep breath.

“Because Emmeline knows things about us.”



Someone removed a blindfold from over her eyes and Emmeline blinked as the setting came into view. She was being led to a chair in a kitchen, somewhere dingy and unkempt. Alastor Moody set his wand down on a table to her left, and took off a watch, tossing it on the table carelessly. Ah. So it was his apartment.

Emmeline was forced into a chair in the center of the kitchen of Moody’s apartment, her arms crossed. She looked around warily at the broken oven. It hung open, clearly untouched. She cleared her throat, and licked the side of her lip which was still caked with her dried blood.

Alastor tossed a rag at her from across the room.

Emmeline caught the rag. “You know I’m not here to rat you all out to the Death Eaters, right?” She dabbed her chin with the wet cloth, and licked her cleaned lip. “If I wanted to do that, you’d all be dead by now.”

“That’s not my question,” Moody snarled, dragging a chair from beside Emmeline and dragging it to face her. He sat down. “I want to know what took you so long to come out of hiding.”

Emmeline raised her eyebrow and looked Moody up and down. Her nose twitched a bit as she focused on his deformed nose.

“Just look at you. Do you think I wanted to end up like that?” Emmeline leaned forward and placed her chin on her fist. “Ravenclaws do it better from the sidelines. You can ask Mary.”

“What do you know about Mary McDonald?” Moody tried, feigning casualty. Emmeline scoffed and shook her head.

“Well the first thing you need to know is that you pick shitty allies.” Moody’s face hardened. “She’s working for Voldemort, too. Although after James’ father, she’s been a bit off the grid,” Emmeline rambled aloud, sitting back in her chair again.

Moody stood up suddenly and ran his hand through his thinning hair. He kicked a chair to the side and let out a feral yell, something that sounded like Arthur. Arthur Weasley burst in from just behind the door. Emmeline was sure he’d been listening in. He grabbed Arthur by the collar and whispered something incoherently. Arthur’s eyes steeled over in a similar way, making Emmeline smirk confidently.

“What’s more is Mary has an associate. Never been able to catch him though, he’s a slippery one,” Emmeline added as Arthur exited the room swiftly.

“No more games,” Alastor said, taking a vial from his pocket and stalking towards Emmeline.

“What? I’m just having,” she said, cut off as Moody grabbed her by the chin and forced her mouth open. She glared up at him as he uncorked the vial with his teeth and spit the stopper out to the side.

“Bottoms up,” he said, dumping its contents down her throat. Emmeline choked slightly, but Moody did not let go of his grip until Emmeline stopped struggling. Moody let go of her, and sat back in his chair with a heavy breath. “Now.”

Emmeline looked up at the sound of Moody’s voice.

“What is your name?”

“Emmeline Vance,” she answered, without hesitation.

“How did you escape the attack on your home in the fall of 1978?” he fired again, stowing his empty vial in his coat pocket.

“I went into the basement as soon as I heard them come in. My sister was killed first, so I knew I had to run. We had a forest behind out house. I cast a disillusionment charm on myself and headed out the back door. I watched the house go on fire from the forest and apparated to the United States as soon as I was out of the boundaries.” Emmeline didn’t appear to have any care to what she was recollecting.

“Your body was found. How did you manage that?” Moody asked licking his lips and looking at Emmeline intently.

“That’s right. I forgot. I transfigured this plant in the basement to appear as a female body with brown hair. The Fiendfyre would disguise any specific details about me, anyway.”

Moody’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

“You’re very thorough, Emmeline,” he commented.

“Is that a question?” she asked plainly, her glazed-over eyes looking nowhere in particular. Moody shook his head.

“How does Meadowes know you’re alive?” Emmeline nodded and continued.

“On the night of the Halloween bombing, I was following Karkaroff. I didn’t see him place the bomb, but I had my suspicions, so I kept following him. He apparated away probably a second before it exploded. I was taken to St. Mungo’s.” Emmeline swallowed. “I asked for Meadowes. I knew I could trust her.”

Moody raised an eyebrow, but Emmeline seemed to think that she’d answered his question sufficiently.

“And how come Meadowes hasn’t told anyone of your presence?”

“I’m keeping her secret. She doesn’t want anyone to know,” Emmeline said blandly again.

“Tell me what secret you’re keeping for Dorcas Meadowes,” Moody worded carefully, making sure it came out as a demand. Emmeline took a pause, making Moody hold his breath.

“She killed her father.” Alastor frowned at Emmeline, and she sat, placated.

“Are you lying?” he asked, looking deeper into her eyes to make sure she wasn’t.


Moody sat back in silence, pondering what it meant that Dorcas had killed her father, when Dumbledore came in through the ajar door. He tilted his head slightly at Emmeline, and then looked to Moody.

“Is this Emmeline Vance?” he questioned quietly, walking forward and crouching in front of her.

“Yes,” Moody and Emmeline answered together. Dumbledore’s head snapped up, and he squinted at Emmeline.

“You’ve already given her Veritaserum?” he asked accusingly, turning to face Alastor.

“She wasn’t cooperating,” he explained, motioning to the usually snarky woman across from him. Dumbledore pursed his lips and stared down at Moody puzzlingly. Moody swallowed, and Dumbledore turned back around.

“Emmeline,” Dumbledore prefaced calmly. “Does anyone else know you’re alive?”

“Yes,” she answered, nodding. Moody waved his hand at Emmeline, imploring her to continue, but Dumbledore shook his head.

“She will only answer that of which she’s asked,” Dumbledore whispered to Moody, keeping his eye trained on Emmeline. “Who else knows you’re alive Emmeline?”

Marlene McKinnon,” Emmeline said, blinking slowly. Moody looked to Dumbledore again, but the older man was not phased.

“Do you know a secret about Marlene?” Moody asked as Dumbledore paused.

“I know many secrets about Marlene McKinnon.”

“What is the secret you promised her you wouldn’t reveal if she kept quiet about you?” Moody gave in detail, gripping the arms of his chair.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell Dorcas about her and Sirius,” Emmeline droned, her body relaxing further back into the chair. Moody clicked his teeth and threw his hand up into the air.

“Bloody children,” he muttered. Moody shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Dumbledore put a hand on his forearm to calm him down.

“Unless you start being useful, Miss Vance, I’m afraid we have no reason to trust you. Do you have any proof that you’re on our side?”

Emmeline nodded, and dug her hand through the inside pocket of her cloak. She tossed out her wand, making the two men flinch, and then reached a folder bursting with photos and scribbled noted. She held it out for one of the two to take, but neither moved.

“Take it. This is proof,” she explained slowly as if they were children. Dumbledore reached out and took the folder from her. As he took the folder from her, Emmeline sat up straighter and cleared her throat. “And so is this,” she said, grinning.

Moody frowned and looked at Dumbledore, who was smiling at the folder.

“What is it?” he asked urgently, peering over Dumbledore’s shoulder at the open notes.

“Oh, it is not Miss Vance’s notes but her tolerance to Veritaserum that intrigues me.” He closed the folder and looked back at Emmeline who was fixing her hair in the reflection of the refrigerator. “You have a lot more to learn, Alastor,” Dumbledore warned lightly. Emmeline snorted slightly, covering it with her fist.

“Of course I wasn’t going to go on the run without a tolerance to Veritaserum in my pocket. What, am I stupid?” Emmeline asked brashly. “Anyway. I’ve answered all your questions, and you can corroborate my counters with Marlene and Dorcas.” Emmeline took a breath and tilted her head at Moody tauntingly. Do you trust me yet?”

“I am afraid it is a bit more complicated than that, Miss Vance,” Dumbledore chastised, as Moody opened his mouth to protest. “Something you should know well judging by your extensive research.”

“So that’s it?” she asked defensively, re-crossing her arms. “You’re not even going to ask why I’m so badly beat up?” She motioned to her disheveled appearance.

“We know why you’re so badly beat up,” Moody growled from his silence. “You think we haven’t got spies of our own in Death Eater ranks?”

“That is what worries us so, Miss Vance. If we can have spies in Lord Voldemort’s ranks,” Dumbledore explained as Emmeline’s face visibly scrunched, “then who’s to say he has not sent a spy to us? Many victims of his attacks have been turned to dark magic.” Emmeline swallowed and shook her hair back from her face.

“He killed my family. He killed my innocent siblings.” Emmeline’s eyes suddenly turned cold, sending a chill up Alastor’s spine. “I don’t want to gain his respect. I want vengeance,” she said darkly, clenching her fist on her lap.