The Mapmakers

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/14447502.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marauders & Lily Evans Potter,
Marauders & Severus Snape, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black
& Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Mary Macdonald &
Marlene McKinnon & Lily Evans Potter, Marauders & Minerva
McGonagall, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape, Sirius Black/Remus
Lupin, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes
Characters: James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Severus Snape, Sirius Black, Sirius
Black's Motorbike, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Regulus Black,
Voldemort (Harry Potter), Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Marauders (Harry
Potter), Dorcas Meadowes
Additional Tags: Marauders' Era, Hogwarts, First War with Voldemort, 1970s, Marauders
Friendship, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hogwarts
Seventh Year, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Adventure, Romance,
Friendship, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Compliant, POV
Multiple, POV Lily Evans Potter, POV Severus Snape, POV Sirius
Black, POV James Potter, Marauders, Mostly Gen, Eventual Romance,
Eventual James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Eventual Sirius Black/Remus
Lupin, The Marauder's Map, POV Remus Lupin, Desi James Potter,
background Dorlene
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2018-04-27 Completed: 2022-05-14 Words: 394,738
Chapters: 64/64
 The Mapmakers
by Dizzy_Bird

Summary

It's 1975 and Whoever-He-Is has turned his eyes towards Hogwarts.

Muggle-born Lily Evans is certain her best friend has been recruited by the Death Eaters.
She's less certain about her future in wizarding Britain. And she has absolutely no idea how
to handle the dark-haired, outrageously privileged, obnoxiously talented toerag named James
Potter.

A canon-compliant account of the Marauders' adventures at Hogwarts, as war draws ever

nearer. COMPLETE.

Translation into Português brasileiro available: The Mapmakers by Sovjetskisavez117

 Cupid and Curses
Chapter Notes

Thanks for reading The Mapmakers!

This fic contains 3 stand-alone arcs for Hogwarts years 5, 6 and 7, similar to the original
HP books. Year 5 starts on chapter 1 of course, and year 6 on chapter 13. Year 7 begins
on chapter 36.

A few content warnings for 5th year: bullying, non-explicit mentions of child abuse, and
the non-explicit outing of a queer student.

Also, I hate that this even needs to be said, but I do not share JKR's horrible, transphobic
beliefs. As far as I'm concerned, she passed away quietly after publishing book 7.

Comments and reviews are very welcome. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and I try to
respond to every comment I receive! Enjoy!

"Alright," said James Potter as he slapped his hands on the Gryffindor table during breakfast.
The Great Hall was even noisier than usual; roses the size of serving dishes floated overhead
and owls swooped through the air, pink and red envelopes clutched in their beaks. "We are so
close to the full moon, so I am going to be very disappointed if one of us mucks things up
today just because he wants to spend Valentine's snogging Daisy Hookum at Madam
Puddifoot's—"

"James," replied a handsome, dark-haired boy, his features contorting as he tried his best to
look offended, "surely you're not insinuating that one of us would ruin months — no, years
— of hard work, because we'd rather get off with Daisy Hookum?"

"That's exactly what I'm insinuating," growled James. He helped himself to some pumpkin
juice, which had been dyed pink for the occasion. "I mean it, Sirius. I'm sick of keeping this
stupid leaf in my mouth all the time, and we're so close to being done, so if Daisy Hookum
swallows your leaf while you two are eating each other's faces, and we have to start the
process over again —"

"She's not going to swallow my leaf," mumbled Sirius, his mouth full of bacon. "We've been
trying for years, I know how to keep my leaf to myself. It's Peter you need to be worried
about, he's the one who ruined it last month —"

"I had Dugbog disease!" protested Peter, the smallest of the group. "I'd like to see you try to
keep a leaf in your mouth while violently puking five times a —"
"I don't see why you all have to do it at the same time," said Remus, a vaguely ill-appearing
boy who looked as if he himself might have a touch of Dugbog disease. "If Sirius loses his
leaf today, why don't you lot keep going without him, and he can catch up next month?"

James shook his head. "This is a team effort, Moony. As anyone who has tried to hold a leaf
in their mouth day and night for a full month can tell you, it's really tedious work. I'm afraid
our dear mate Sirius might lack the, er, discipline to follow through if he doesn't have
companionship while attempting such a feat."

"Guilty as charged," said Sirius with a grin, swallowing the last of his bacon delicately so as
not to disturb the leaf tucked in the back of his mouth. One of the larger owls clipped a wing
on an enormous floating rose and tumbled onto the Ravenclaw table, thoroughly ruining a
student's breakfast. Sirius watched it with some interest before turning back towards James.
"I'll be careful. Though I can't promise I won't give Daisy a few chaste pecks on the cheek if
the opportunity arises..."

At the opposite end of the Great Hall, standing close to the entrance, a thin boy with sallow
skin and lank black hair scanned the Gryffindor table warily. He was careful not to look
towards the far end, where James and the others were sitting. Finally, he made eye contact
with a pretty redheaded girl who smiled brightly at him. The girl stood up and grabbed a pair
of croissants, then bid her girlfriends goodbye and made her way over to the boy. She handed
him one of the croissants as the two left the Great Hall.

"You could have sat with us, you know," said the girl, Lily, tearing off a bit of croissant.
"Nobody would have minded."

"Nobody except Potter and his mates," replied the boy as they approached the great oak doors
that led to the grounds of Hogwarts. "If they weren't at the table, maybe, but…"

"Severus," said Lily as the doors swung open of their own accord. "Don't be stupid."

"Not wanting to be hexed is stupid?"

"I mean don't be like everyone else." Lily waved her hand. "Magical people are so concerned
with segregating everyone into neat little boxes that never overlap. Can't sit at the Gryffindor
table if you're a Slytherin! It's ridiculous."

"You're a magical person too, you know."

"Yeah, and I'm just saying. Muggle boarding schools are nowhere near as cliquey. It's
not normal."

"So go to a Muggle boarding school."

Lily looked at him disparagingly. "Or I could stay here and sit at whichever table I like and
be the change I want to see in the world."

"The last time we sat together at the Slytherin table, Avery got revenge by jinxing Mary
Macdonald," Severus reminded her. "She spoke Swahili for a week."

"I know," sighed Lily as they wound their way down the path to Hogsmeade. "It's hard to be
the voice of change when other people take the fall for it."

Also, you're Muggle-born, Severus added silently. He knew the depths of discrimination that
Muggle-borns faced, even if Lily wasn't fully aware of it yet. In theory, only the old pure-
blood families cared about blood status. But the fact remained that few Muggle-borns
occupied positions of importance in the Ministry, and fewer still were policymakers or
members of the Wizengamot. It was the same everywhere — a Muggle-born could be a
Mediwizard, but the chances of them becoming Healer-in-Charge of a ward at St. Mungo's
were almost nonexistent. Lily was talented and popular enough that she could bend social
norms at Hogwarts without getting too much pushback, but she wasn't going to start a
cultural revolution on her own.

He didn't say any of this out loud, though. What he said instead was, "I've invented a new
spell."

"You're changing the subject," said Lily, but she was smiling. "What does it do?"

"It's a Valentine's Day hex." Severus smirked slightly. "Point your wand at a person who's
snogging someone else, make a motion like you're drawing a heart — clockwise, obviously
— and say Vomihominis. The snogger's lips should grow numerous unsightly boils."

"That's horrible," said Lily, laughing. "Can you imagine kissing someone, and then
feeling…? Eurgh! Very clever, though, recreating a Muggle disease…"

"I thought so," said Severus smugly.

Daisy Hookum was a pretty blonde Hufflepuff with thick fringe and a shaggy haircut
reminiscent of a certain American film star. Sirius Black loved Muggle film stars.

"Well, Daisy," he said, checking his watch as their date in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop drew
to a close, "this has been great, but I need to run to Pippin's to pick up a few things I've
ordered. Want to come along?"

"Ooh, yes, please," said Daisy, and she leaned across the chintzy white table to press her lips
against his. Sirius kept his mouth firmly shut while kissing her, but that had nothing to do
with the fact that Daisy didn't understand words with more than two syllables. It was solely to
protect his leaf. Obviously.
After a moment, Daisy drew back, and they both stood up. Sirius dropped a few Sickles on
the table, and they left the shop holding hands. As they pushed through the bustling crowd,
headed to J. Pippin's Potions, Daisy chirped in his ear about her favourite Hogsmeade shops.
"We should stop by the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer after Pippin's. I could use
something to warm me up — it's so cold out here!" She shivered for effect, blinking up at
him.

Sirius draped an arm around her and pulled her closer. "I might know a way to warm you up,"
he murmured, their noses almost touching. When they kissed, in the middle of the crowded
street, he was almost able to enjoy the moment without focusing on his leaf. Daisy kissed him
again, opening her mouth a little, and Sirius responded in kind when all of a sudden —

"Sirius… what —" said Daisy, drawing back. Several hard pustules, red and inflamed, had
appeared on his lips. Her eyes widened as the boils grew. "What's wrong? Are you allergic?
Is it me?"

Sirius put his hand over his mouth and felt the lumps. They were as big as Gobstones. He
swore, and his leaf almost fell out. "Daisy — I..."

"You're allergic to me," Daisy's eyes filled with tears. "We kissed, and — and — oh Sirius,
I'm so sorry! This is all my fault!"

"I don't — I really don't think it was your fault," mumbled Sirius. It was quite difficult to talk
with both a leaf in his mouth and grossly misshapen lips. He cast a glance about the busy
street; a small, dark-haired figure was ducking into the Three Broomsticks. Sirius narrowed
his eyes.

"We have to get you to the hospital wing!" sobbed Daisy, tugging on his arm. The students
passing by were beginning to stare.

"Daisy, no — just give me a moment..." Sirius grabbed her hand and dragged her into the
nearest alley. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a small, square mirror. "James Potter!" he
said.

Sirius' reflection vanished, replaced by James' face. Wherever James was, it was so dark that
his brown skin and untidy black hair were barely distinguishable from his surroundings. If
Sirius squinted, he could just make out a cluster of trees in the background.

"Merlin's pants," said James, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Bad date, eh?"

This made Daisy cry harder.

"Very funny," said Sirius. "I think our little Slytherin pal might have had a hand in this, but
listen. I'm gonna head back to the castle and sort my face out, alright? You'll have to come to
Hogsmeade and pick up the… our order from Pippin's." He shot a glance at Daisy.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," James said in a tone indicating that Sirius should
know what he was talking about. "Why don't you just Finite Incantatum whatever hex
Snivellus put on you and continue on your date —"
"He's allergic to me!" cried Daisy. "It's not a hex, it's because I kissed him, he needs Madam
Pomfrey—"

"That's why, you twat," muttered Sirius.

James raised his eyebrows. "I keep telling you Hufflepuff girls are dimmer than a bag of
gnomes," he said. "Fine. Let Poppy put your girl's mind at ease. I'll be down in a bit to pick
up the package."

Sirius nodded, and James' face faded. He stuffed the mirror back into his pocket and
sauntered out of the ally. Behind him, Daisy struggled to keep up as he strode towards the
castle.

At least he still had his leaf.

James tucked the two-way mirror back into his robes and stretched, looking around. He was
standing at the edge of a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, deep enough into the woods that
hardly any light filtered down through the canopy of ancient trees. The dim light gave the
clearing the look of perpetual dusk.

James was quite proud of what he had done here. First off, it wasn't exactly easy to find a
place where dew could form untouched by both sunlight and human feet, much less in the
middle of winter, when dew seldom formed at all. A powerful Atmospheric Charm ensured
that the clearing stayed at the proper temperature and humidity for dew formation regardless
of the weather, and a self-sustaining Nox Charm kept the area dark at all times. He had even
— and this was what he was proudest of, for it was a tricky bit of magic — bound a
Homonculous Charm to a ring that he wore on his finger, which would burn if anyone
happened upon the clearing.

All of James' efforts had proven fruitful today. He collected several teaspoons of untouched
silver dew, storing the liquid in a decanter made of black glass. Success, he thought. With a
wave of his wand, he undid the Atmospheric and Nox Charms. The air became several
degrees cooler, and his surroundings brightened. He picked his cloak off a tree branch and
tossed it around his shoulders. He vanished at once, and the clearing lay still and silent once
more.

James trekked through the forest as quickly as he could without making too much noise. Of
course, the Forbidden Forest wasn't nearly as frightening under the Invisibility Cloak, as
nothing was likely to bother him, but he still didn't want to overstay his welcome.

Luck was on his side today, though. As he picked through the thick undergrowth, the most
menacing creatures he encountered were a couple of Bowtruckles fighting over an elm tree.
He emerged near Hagrid's hut, pausing just long enough to stuff the Cloak into his bag before
following the winding path to Hogsmeade.
Just as he had expected, the streets of Hogsmeade were lined with students holding hands and
cuddling up to one another as if it was frightfully cold instead of a mild winter's day. Even
the most hateful of the Slytherins seemed to be paired off; Evan Rosier was nuzzling a girl
who looked absolutely thrilled at the attention. It couldn't be Rosier's looks that had her so
enthralled — more likely, it was his family's status as part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. As if
coming from an old pure-blood family meant anything other than being hopelessly inbred.

James shuddered as he pushed open the door to J. Pippin's Potions. Even the shop was
crowded, so he joined the queue for the front counter, standing behind a girl with shoulder-
length red hair.

"Evans?"

The girl turned, raising her eyebrows and smiling a little. "Potter?" she mimicked, using the
same incredulous tone he had.

"What are you doing here?" He cringed inwardly at what a stupid question that was. Probably
buying potions ingredients, same as you, you idiot.

"Well," said Lily seriously, "I've been trying to brew Felix Felicis so I can pass my O.W.L.s,
but I can't seem to grind my Occamy eggshells finely enough, so I'm here to get more. You?"

James grinned. "I've been carrying a Mandrake leaf around in my mouth for months so I can
become an Animagus. I just need to pick up the last ingredients for the potion."

"Good one," said Lily, the corners of her lips twitching. "Slightly less believable than mine,
though."

"Give me a break, you're brilliant," said James. "You could pass your O.W.L.s in your sleep."

"True." Lily's emerald eyes were sparkling. "You're a meathead compared to me. Honestly,
your Animagus form is probably just yourself."

James laughed, but before he could respond, the bell on the door of the shop jingled, and a
thickset Slytherin fifth year walked in. With his broad shoulders, powerful jaw, and small,
blue eyes, he vaguely resembled a pit bull. James and Lily looked at each other.

"Speaking of unbelievable…" muttered James. "What's Mulciber doing here without his
gang? I wasn't aware he even knew what a potion was…"

"Oh, stop," said Lily, and she sounded less playful now. "He's minding his own business,
please don't start any Gryffindor-Slytherin drama in here…"

James lifted a brow. "Start? I think your pal Snape was the one who started something earlier,
so don't blame me for wanting payback. Where's your little friend, anyway? Why isn't he
with you?"

"He's busy." Lily bit her lip and looked away.

"Busy sucking up to some Death Eaters in training, like the rest of his house?"
"Stop it," said Lily as they moved forward in the queue. "He's not like them, you're just
looking for a fight…"

"I'm the one looking for a fight? I'm not the one who hexed Sirius completely unprovoked
this morning—"

"Are you actually angry about that?" Lily looked directly at him. Her eyes were more than a
little distracting.

"Of course I'm angry! He's my best mate!"

"Oh, come on," said Lily, and her lip twitched again. "It was just a stupid jinx. I actually think
Sev did Sirius a favour. Imagine having to spend all day with Daisy Hookum…"

James snorted despite himself. "Look, Daisy's a nice girl —"

"She gets a T in History of Magic every year. I don't even know how that's possible, seeing as
Binns grades us randomly."

"Okay, but my point still stands —"

"What point?" asked Lily, hands on her hips. "That you don't like Severus?"

"That he hexed my friend!"

"So now you're going to hex Mulciber? That's just stupid, they're not even mates —"

"Lover's quarrel?" interrupted a voice behind them. Mulciber had joined them in the queue.

"No —" began Lily, but James interrupted her.

"Butt out, Mulciber," he growled.

Mulciber raised his eyebrows. "Fine by me," he said smoothly. "Just looking out for you,
Potter."

"You?" said James incredulously. "Looking out for me?"

"Times are changing, Potter," said Mulciber calmly. "House rivalries are fine for first years,
but the world is moving beyond that. Soon, it will be blood status that brings us together… or
not," he added, jerking his chin towards Lily, who reddened but stood her ground.

"Is that really the best you can do?" she asked. "Make vague threats because I'm Muggle-
born? How original. I feel awfully frightened now. And you," she said, addressing James,
"Don't get into it with him just because it makes you feel gallant to defend me, when we all
know you've been itching for a fight ever since he walked in here!"

She turned her back on both of them and gave a little start as she realised she was at the front
counter. "And I'll take three scoops of African sea salt and a handful of rue," she snapped at
the shopkeeper, who was watching the exchange with his mouth slightly open.
"Lily…" said James as she slapped a few Sickles onto the counter, but she cut him off.

"No, I don't want to hear it! It's Valentine's Day, and I want to have a nice afternoon in
Hogsmeade without you ruining my peace!" And with that, she snatched the small paper bag
from the hapless shopkeeper and marched out of the shop. The bell on the door clanged
behind her.

"Well," said Mulciber after a moment, "turns out you didn't need my help getting rid of her
after all —"

That was the moment James hexed him.

Inside the Three Broomsticks, Severus Snape sat at the end of a corner booth, surrounded by
housemates who were busy sucking up to a Death Eater in training.

"Is it true that the Dark Lord is recruiting werewolves?" Emma Vanity asked Lucius Malfoy
breathlessly. Lucius, a boy in his early twenties with straight, shoulder-length blonde hair,
smiled and raised his eyebrows knowingly, but he refrained from answering Emma's
question. Beside him, a beautiful, dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. Severus recognised her —
she was a seventh year, one of the Black sisters — but had never spoken to her. Despite this,
he found her obvious disdain for everyone present quite relatable.

"Have you — have you got the Mark?" babbled Avery, but Emma spoke over him.

"Don't be ridiculous, everyone knows the Mark's just a story —"

"It is not, there was a drawing of it in the Prophet last week…"

"And you think that Muggle-loving drivel is a reliable source of information?"

"Break it up, children," said Mulciber. He slid into the booth to sit beside Severus, who
glowered and moved closer to Avery. The table was getting uncomfortably crowded now.
Mulciber looked at Lucius, and something unspoken passed between the two.

"You're late," said Lucius.

"I was held up," replied Mulciber evenly. "A certain Gryffindor Quidditch captain thought it
would be great fun to practise duelling in the middle of Pippin's." He nudged Severus, but
Severus didn't rise to the bait.

"Well, now that you've decided to join us, we can get started." Lucius' eyes swept across the
table. "As a few of you already know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
requires… information about the goings-on at Hogwarts. Seeing as it's imprudent for him to
enter the castle himself" — a few students snickered at that — "he has asked me to recruit a
handful of trustworthy students to be his eyes and ears at Hogwarts."
"Why's he interested in Hogwarts? Sir?" asked Emma Vanity.

Lucius looked at her. "That," he said, "is information only those who are chosen need to
know."

Emma shrank back in her seat a bit. The beautiful girl beside Lucius, who up to this point had
looked utterly bored with the whole thing, spoke up, sounding as if she were reading off a cue
card. "And what does one have to do to prove they are trustworthy, Lucius?"

"I'm glad you asked, Bella," replied Lucius. "As it happens, the Dark Lord has given me the
authority to make judgements on the matter. This afternoon has been quite enlightening, and
those who I select should await my owl." He gave her the same significant look he had given
Mulciber, and his gaze slid across the booth to Severus. The gesture was not lost on Avery.

"Snape? You're not thinking of choosing him, are you? He's… he's not even a pure-blood, and
he spends all his time with that Mudblood girl —"

"The Dark Lord decides who is and isn't a pure-blood," interrupted Lucius, but he looked
questioningly at Severus. "Do you have anything to say about your relationship with your
Mudblood friend?"

Severus met Lucius' grey eyes without blinking. "Slytherins tend to keep to their own," he
said. "But an inter-house partnership means I can learn things others cannot."

Lucius nodded slowly. "Just as I thought," he said. "I will speak to the Dark Lord, but I think
he will agree we may have use for a spy."

"Detention?!" roared Sirius. It was evening as the four friends sprawled on the sofas in the
Gryffindor common room, and his outburst caused a few nearby first years to jump. "I spent
all bloody day specifically not snogging Daisy Hookum so that your bloody leaf scheme goes
off according to plan, and now you're telling me that you won't even be able to make it
tomorrow night because you got DETENTION? Because you were showing off in front
of her?"

"That's basically what happened, yeah," admitted James. He ran a hand through his hair, his
fingers snagging on the untidy curls.

"I thought you spent all day not snogging Daisy because Snape cursed your lips off," said
Remus pleasantly, as if offering a helpful correction. Sirius glared at him, then turned back to
James, who held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Relax, Sirius," said James. "It'll be fine. We have all night to do it, we'll just have to go out a
little later than originally planned. Which works in our favour, anyway — the later we wait,
the less teachers and prefects will be roaming the halls."
"They'll be short a prefect tomorrow, too," Peter pointed out with a glance at Remus. "Seeing
as Moony's gonna be… busy…"

Remus's smile flickered slightly. Then he grinned at Sirius, who was still scowling. "Yeah, I
thought I'd do you lot a favour by buggering off for a day or two. Give you some time to
make mischief and taunt a certain greaseball Slytherin without suffering my disapproval."

A corner of Sirius' mouth lifted. "You know what's funny about that hex Snivellus hit me
with?" he asked. "I actually couldn't reverse it with Finite Incantatum, I tried after I got rid of
Dai — I mean, after Daisy and I parted ways…"

"Amicably, I hope," said Remus, his eyes wide. Peter sniggered.

"Shut up, Moony," said Sirius, but he was smiling ruefully now. "No need to be jealous just
because you spent Valentine's Day swapping spit with Peter —"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't risk losing my precious leaf with Moony," said Peter. "Fabius Watkins,
though, maybe…"

James snorted. "So you had to go see Poppy after all," he said, addressing Sirius, who
nodded.

"Yeah. She'd never seen that particular pattern of boils before, so I had to try a couple of
different potions before we found one that worked."

"Interesting," said James. "I guess that means the spell was one of Snivellus'…
ah… inventions."

"'Course it was," said Sirius darkly. "And I'm getting tired of being his test subject, I'll tell
you that much."

"Well," said Peter, "if he joins up with the Death Eaters — like we all know he will — he'll
probably leave us alone in favour of hexing people whose blood status is a little more…
ambiguous, if you know what I mean."

The other three looked at him.

"Way to bring the mood down, Pete," said James.

Just then, the portrait hole opened. Lily Evans entered the common room, accompanied by
Marlene McKinnon and Mary Macdonald, who was carrying a fat tabby cat. They were still
pink-faced from the cold — the cat looked especially rumpled — and they stamped their
boots on the crimson rug as they walked towards the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.
Lily laughed at something Mary said and glanced at James. Upon meeting his eyes, her smile
faded a little, and she turned her head away, nose in the air.

"I see she wasn't dazzled by your chivalry," commented Sirius, following James' gaze. "Too
bad, really. I know I'd have been impressed if you'd turned Mulciber's fingers into gherkins to
defend my honour…"
"Dill pickles, actually," said James lightly as he returned his attention to his friends. "Rather
more complex than your average gherkin, but I digress."

"So are we agreed, then?" asked Peter, fidgeting in his seat. "We'll do it tomorrow night, after
James' detention?"

"Fine by me," said Sirius, and James nodded. "We'll meet outside the common room, by the
portrait of the Fat Lady."

Their plans set, the four chatted idly for a while longer until Remus stood up, yawning, and
announced that he was going to bed. Peter followed him, leaving Sirius and James alone in
front of the hearth.

"Sorry about Lily, mate," said Sirius in a low voice.

James tried to shrug nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the crackling flames. "Mulciber's a
git."

"Of course he is."

"She thinks I'm a git, too."

"You are a git." Sirius slid off his armchair and onto his feet. "But that's part of your charm.
She'll come around."

"Arsehole."

"Wanker."

They grinned at each other. With a wave of his wand, James extinguished the fire, throwing
the common room into darkness, and they made their way up the stairs.
 The Bell of Merlin

The following afternoon, Lily noticed that Severus wasn't at lunch.

He wasn't in the library, either, or in the Charms classroom on the third floor where they
usually met. She even ventured into the labyrinth-like dungeons in search of him and got as
far as Dungeon Six, which contained only mirrors of varying shapes and sizes, before a group
of Slytherins rounded the corner, forcing her to flee to the Entrance Hall.

Just as she was about to give up, she heard whispers on the fifth floor, near the prefect's
bathroom. She peeked around the corner; Severus was in the middle of the corridor with
Avery and Mulciber, deeply engrossed in conversation. Lily's heart sank, and she drew back
before they could notice her. If she concentrated, she could just make out what they were
saying.

"….told you, it's not…" muttered Severus.

Mulciber's voice was deeper than Severus' and more self-assured. "And I've told you that he
doesn't give a damn what you…" His voice lowered, and Lily couldn't hear the rest of his
sentence. There was something about the way Mulciber said 'he' that sent a chill down her
spine. Severus mumbled a reply, and Avery laughed.

"You would say that, Snape, but that's not for you to…"

Their voices grew louder as they approached Lily's end of the corridor. She looked around
frantically, but there was nowhere to hide. The wall across from her was bare except for a few
musty paintings, and —

The Wandering Stairs! Lily could have jumped for joy. A brass doorknob was crammed
between two portraits, jutting out from the stone. She turned the doorknob and the wall
swung towards her. Inside was a cramped, twisting staircase, ascending with no end in sight.
She slipped into the passageway and shut the door delicately behind her.

"Take me to the library," she told the empty staircase.

Immediately, there was a rumble, like the scraping of stone on stone, and the top of the
staircase began to glow with a dim light. Lily took the stairs two at a time, nearly at a run, in
case the Slytherins also noticed the doorknob in the corridor and decided to join her. She
needn't have worried, though; she reached the top without incident and found herself facing a
nondescript stone wall. Lily took a breath and stepped into the wall.

She came out the other side, between a row of bookcases in the library — the Herbology
section, by the looks of it. Patches of grass sprung up between the wooden floorboards, and
some of the books had sprouted long green vines. Turning around, she pressed her hand on
the wall she had just walked through, but it didn't budge.
Lily grinned. A staircase that appeared randomly throughout the castle and took you exactly
where you wanted to go? She loved being a witch.

In the next row over, the shelves were lined with books about magical plants of the Amazon,
and she found an old, musty armchair beneath a couple of hanging boxwoods. Determined
not to think about Severus — her Severus! — plotting with Avery and Mulciber, she curled
up in the chair, pulled a slim Muggle novel from her bag, and began to read where she had
left off.

An hour or so later, the soft sound of footsteps brought Lily out of her novel. She looked up,
peering through the tendrils of the hanging plants. Severus was walking towards her,
shuffling his feet on the carpet. He dipped his chin in greeting.

"Hi," she said warily, closing her book.

"Hi."

He sat on the floor, pulling a quill and Potions book out of his bag, as if he intended on
studying. As if he hadn't just been talking with Avery and Mulciber, two people she knew he
couldn't stand. She watched him turn to a dog-eared page of his Potions text and scribble
something in the margins, apparently engrossed in his own thoughts. Well, if he wasn't
planning on bringing it up, she would.

"Where did you go in Hogsmeade yesterday?"

He paused, quill hovering over his book. "After we parted ways? Nowhere interesting.
Cerdiwen's, Zonko's…"

"You didn't… meet up with anyone?"

He blinked, his beetle-dark eyes fixed on his Potions book. After a moment, he glanced at
her. "Actually, yes. I went to the Three Broomsticks with some people from my House.
Lucius was there. You should have seen the way my housemates were falling over
themselves to get his attention — it was pathetic."

"What was Lucius doing at the Three Broomsticks?"

Severus shrugged. "Looking for an ego boost?"

"He's involved in Dark stuff, Sev. It was obvious even when he was still in school with us,
and if you're getting drinks with him at the Three Broomsticks…"

"I did not get drinks with Lucius Malfoy," snapped Severus. "Obviously he's an arrogant
bonehead with more hair than sense. But when you belong to Slytherin House, and Lucius
Malfoy wants to speak with you, it's in your best interest to put aside any personal feelings
and attend."

"So you're just trying to keep the peace?"

"Trying and failing." Severus shut his textbook. "But that's not good enough for you, is it?"
"I just don't see why —"

"Why I can't just tell Lucius to leave me alone?" he hissed. "Because then not only will I
have Potter and Black to contend with, but my own House too, and I don't know if you've
noticed, but they're not exactly thrilled with me as is — "

"Why do you care so much what they think?" she asked, rather louder than she had intended.
Hopefully Madam Pince, the librarian, couldn't hear. "Lucius is a Dark wizard, Sev, and if
there's that much pressure in Slytherin to join up with his lot, then —"

"Then what?" he said, standing up. "Should I tell Dumbledore and confirm his suspicions that
Slytherins are the root of all evil? Ask the Sorting Hat to reconsider me for Hufflepuff?"

"There has to be something— "

"There's nothing," he said flatly. "There's nothing I can do except keep my head down and
remain neutral, and even that draws unwanted attention, both in my House and yours."

Severus couldn't conceal the hurt in his voice, and she almost believed he was telling the
truth.

Almost.

"Were you even planning on telling me that you met with Lucius?" asked Lily. "Or were you
hoping I wouldn't bring it up?"

The answer was written on his face. He glared at her, lips pressed into a thin line as though
biting back a retort. Then he whirled on his heel and stormed out of the library.

Good, thought Lily. Leave. I don't care. She looked down at the book she was holding and
tried to summon the desire to open it back up and resume reading. The library felt too quiet
all of a sudden. The Herbology section, which had seemed so lush before, smelled mouldy
and damp, like rotting leaves. She stood with a sigh and slung her bag over her shoulder. She
could always do some reading in the common room, she supposed.

Severus' oversized robes billowed behind him as he stalked through the dungeons. He nearly
knocked over a pair of second years in his fury, but he didn't slow his pace. Lily had no idea
what it was like to be him, to be continually mocked and underestimated and ostracised. It
was so easy for her to lecture him about morality, as if only she understood right and wrong.
She was such a Gryffindor.

And you're such a Slytherin.

He wanted to curse something.

He turned a corner and arrived at a bare stone wall. "Runespoor," he grunted, and the stones
rearranged themselves, forming the dark passageway into the Slytherin common room.
Excited voices echoed through the tunnel as he slunk inside.

Mulciber and Avery were standing by the hearth, surrounded by students; Mulciber
immediately looked up and crooked a finger at him. Severus sighed inwardly and joined the
group by the fire.

"There he is!" exclaimed Avery. He draped an arm around Severus, who wondered idly how
difficult it would be to sever Avery's arm at the shoulder. "The man of the hour. I trust you've
had some time to think about our little chat earlier?"

Severus kept his eyes on Mulciber. "I have."

"And?" prompted Avery. Mulciber raised his eyebrows.

Severus hesitated. Lily had looked so disappointed, and she'd thought he'd merely rubbed
shoulders with Lucius. If she'd known Lucius was recruiting… that he had wanted Severus…

But that was irrelevant, now.

"Alright," he said, and Avery let out a whoop. Some of the other students grinned, swapping
knowing looks. "But this doesn't leave the common room."

"That goes without saying," said Mulciber with a smirk. "Alright, then. What have you got
for us?"

Severus shrugged off Avery's arm with more force than was strictly necessary. "We'll start
with something simple." He drew his wand. Avery looked like he was about to wet himself
from excitement. "This spell de-bones vertebrates. It helps with brewing potions… among
other things." A couple of students sniggered.

After Severus had demonstrated his curse on a pair of unfortunate mice and taught the others
how to replicate the spell, the group began to disperse. Severus Vanished the remains of the
mice and wiped his wand on his sleeve, a dour expression on his face. He hated revealing his
inventions to others, but he needed Mulciber to report good things to Lucius. Unlike
Mulciber and Avery, Severus' last name had no pedigree; he had to prove himself through his
talents alone.

"What a waste," said a voice. The beautiful seventh year girl from the Three Broomsticks was
standing behind him, her wild, dark curls thrown up in a knot. "Being forced to share the
spoils of your hard work and cleverness. Those imbeciles can't even begin to understand the
ingenuity it took to create such a spell."

"They have no interest in understanding," muttered Severus. Across the room, Avery and
Mulciber saluted him before climbing into the passageway that connected the common room
with the dungeons.
Bella followed Severus' gaze. "Off to look for mice of their own, no doubt," she said lightly.
She turned back to him and tilted her head to one side, thoughtful. "Would you like to have
tea with me?"

"Not particularly."

"Will you come if I say please? I was headed to Dungeon Twelve before I noticed your little
demonstration." She smiled at him, revealing a perfect row of square, white teeth. She was
charming, and she knew it.

Severus figured he could use the company of someone he did not yet hate. "If you insist."

They left the Slytherin common room and walked deeper into the twisting dungeons. Side-
by-side, Bella was much taller than him. She didn't seem interested in talking, and Severus
certainly wasn't going to drive the conversation, so they walked in silence. Finally, at the end
of a long corridor, they reached Dungeon Twelve.

Called the Fishbowl by younger, more impressionable Slytherins, Dungeon Twelve had the
appearance of being entirely underwater. The walls were completely transparent, giving a
clear view of the lake surrounding the dungeon. Even the floor and ceiling were translucent,
and a group of Grindylows glided languidly through the algae beneath Severus' feet. Above
them, the last traces of sunset filtered through the surface of the lake, bathing the room in an
eerie, shifting green light.

"Excellent," said Bella as a school of large, silvery fish with multiple tails swam parallel to
the wall. She closed the door, and it too disappeared, giving Severus an unobstructed view of
the lake around them. The Grindylows swam up the sides of the room, giving chase to the
school of fish.

"Out," commanded Bella, and Severus turned. She was addressing a group of sixth year
Slytherins who were seated in the centre of the room.

"Bella, we're studying — "

"And you can do that elsewhere. I said OUT!"

There were echoes of her cousin Sirius in her voice, haughty and self-assured. The students
began to pack up their things, but they weren't quick enough; with an upward swipe of her
wand, Bella sent their papers flying into the air.

"Come on, Bella…" whined one of the students as the others scrambled to collect the
whirling papers. He drew his wand and pointed at the fluttering sheets of parchment.
"Accio —"

"Everte Statum," said Bella lazily. Her wand twitched, and the sixth years went flying
backwards, flipping helplessly in the air and crashing against the wall. One of the students,
looking panicked now, hastily pulled open the dungeon door while another Summoned the
remainder of their belongings. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them, then
faded from view.
"That's better," said Bella, as if she had merely brought the room to a more comfortable
temperature. She and Severus wandered to the far corner of the dungeon, where Bella
conjured up a pair of cushions for them to sit on.

"House-elf," said Bella imperiously once they had settled on the cushions. There was a
loud crack, and a small, thin creature appeared, wearing nothing but a tea towel emblazoned
with the Hogwarts crest.

"Yes, mistress?" squeaked the creature, bowing. One of its ears pointed straight up while the
other flopped in front of its face, covering its eyes. Its limbs were unnaturally long and
spindly. Severus had to force himself not to stare. He'd never seen a house-elf before, and
hadn't expected them to look quite so… fragile.

"We'd like some tea," said Bella. Her tone wasn't bossy or demanding; on the contrary, she
sounded so confident her orders would be obeyed that she didn't need to be bossy. "Black. I'll
take cream and sugar with mine."

The house-elf bowed again and turned towards Severus, brushing its ear out of the way. "And
for young master?"

"Earl grey," said Severus. "Hot." In case it wasn't obvious.

The house-elf gave them a final, floppy-eared bow and vanished with another loud crack.
Seconds later, there was a popping noise, which gave Severus a start. A silver tea tray had
appeared in front of them, containing their tea and a small platter of scones.

"Good service," said Severus. He tried to affect a disinterested tone, as if he hadn't just
jumped five feet in the air.

"Oh, they're darling," said Bella as she reached for the teapot. "My aunt has one I adore, he's
so precious." She poured a bit of tea into her cup. "You'll have never seen one before, though,
have you?"

Severus blinked at her question, wondering if he'd committed some sort of faux pas that made
it obvious he'd never interacted with a house-elf. She met his eyes and smiled. "I just figured,
given your background…"

Right, thought Severus bitterly. Because I was raised by a Muggle and a witch who may as
well have been one. He should have known that even among seventh year Slytherins, his
parentage would be seen as an oddity. "That was my first encounter with a house-elf, yes."

"I can't even imagine." Bella widened her eyes and shuddered dramatically. "What was it
like? Growing up with a Muggle for a father?"

Her curiosity seemed innocent enough, but Severus had no desire to relate the details of his
miserable upbringing to a girl he'd just met. "It was exactly as you'd expect it to be."

"That's awful," said Bella, sounding sympathetic. "Although at least you knew what you
were, though, because of your mum. Can you imagine, spending your whole childhood
in that world, without knowing anything about ours?" She shook her head. "I feel sorry for
Mudbloods, honestly. Even after they get their letter and learn that they're magic, they still
don't really belong, neither here nor there. Caught between two worlds… I don't expect
anyone could be truly happy living like that."

Severus was impressed at both this unexpected display of compassion and at Bella's word-
for-word parroting of the anti-Muggle pamphlets that had been making their way around
Slytherin House in recent weeks. Apparently, the propaganda was leaving a more lasting
impression than he had thought.

"I imagine it would be difficult," he said, thinking of Lily, who certainly didn't seem caught
between two worlds.

"It's a good thing they're dying out, I suppose," said Bella indifferently. "One way or
another."

That sounded more like the Death Eater in training he knew her to be, but he had no interest
in showing approval for that sort of ideology, so he said nothing.

His silence didn't go unnoticed. "Oh, I don't care if you agree about that," said Bella. "I think
we'd be doing them a mercy, but I'm not obsessed with blood purity the way some people are.
I think we have that in common… and other things, too."

She put such significance on the last bit that Severus felt obligated to respond. "I'm not sure
what you mean."

"I mean I'm not like the other imbeciles in our House, and I don't think you are, either. I don't
care about having power, or control, or keeping the Mudbloods in their place." She fixed her
dark eyes on him. "What I like is magic — Dark magic. Bending it to my will, shaping it,
feeling the way it runs through me and remaking it into what I want." A wild light danced
behind her eyes. "I've seen you with your spells, and I think you like it too."

Well, there was no denying that. Dark magic was twisted and unpredictable, its bounds nearly
limitless. Ordinary magic couldn't compare, really. He nodded his agreement and she grinned,
her expression making her look somewhat feral.

"I knew it," she said. "I knew we were alike. And the Dark Lord — he's the same way as us.
He knows the secrets of Dark magic better than I do, he's been showing me." She touched her
left arm, raising her eyebrows at Severus as she rubbed the sleeve of her robe. "Maybe I'll
share some of what I've learned with you, if you're lucky."

Of course you don't care about power, thought Severus, his eyes on her arm. You've already
got it.
Lily Evans was in a foul mood.

As if it wasn't enough that she and Severus had rowed, she now had to spend her Sunday
evening babysitting James Potter — James Potter! — as he served his detention. During the
week, detentions were overseen by the Heads of House. Since it was the weekend, though,
Professor McGonagall had delegated the task to the Head Boy, who had delegated it to the
seventh year Gryffindor prefects, who had delegated it to the sixth year prefects, who had
delegated it to Lily. She had hoped that Remus Lupin would have been able to supervise the
detention with her, too — the presence of one of James' friends might have meant she could
interact with him less — but she hadn't been able to find Remus anywhere that evening.

She stormed up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, passing the portrait of the Fat Lady and
continuing up the winding staircase. Eventually, she reached a ladder that stretched up
through several makeshift wooden platforms. The ladder led to the belfry, which was so far
above it was out of sight. After casting an Anti-Gravity Charm on herself — she wasn't about
to risk falling off the ladder, after all — she began to climb, her thoughts dark. Maybe James
wouldn't show. Maybe his fat head would cause him to slip off the scaffolding of the bell
tower and plummet to his death.

Well, perhaps not his death. Maybe he'd just be permanently incapacitated.

James was waiting for her at the top of the ladder, and her heart sank. Damn it all.

"Evening, Evans," he said cheerfully. He offered her a hand, which she refused. "Lovely
night, isn't it?"

"Let's just get started," she said, brushing off her knees as she stood up. "You are to clean the
Bell of Merlin — that's the big one, in the middle — and polish it. McGonagall also wanted
you to polish the Bells of Cadogan and Morgana, if there's time. Cleaning spells —"

"…are prohibited," he finished, smirking. "Not my first detention, Evans. And I know which
one the Bell of Merlin is, Merlin himself knows I've cleaned it enough times —"

"Then you should be able to finish quickly," retorted Lily. "I'll be over here if you need me.
Which you won't."

She sat on the floor of the belfry, watching as he picked his way over the wooden beams to
the Bell of Merlin. Once he'd reached it, he placed one hand on the massive bell for balance
and turned towards her. "I suppose I'm allowed to conjure up some rags?" he called. "Or do I
need to use my tongue?"

"Rags are fine," said Lily, glowering. James grinned, his eyes on Lily, and pretended to lick
the bell as he pulled his wand out of his back pocket. Lily flushed. "That's just foul!"

"Good point." James pulled off one of his shoes, then his sock. "The poor bell doesn't deserve
that, it doesn't know where I've been…" With a wave of his wand, the sock turned into a
large, dirty rag. He stuffed his foot back into his shoe and began to polish the bell, oblivious
to the fact that Lily was fuming.
"Potter," she said with as much calm as she could muster, "you can't polish the Bell of Merlin
with your sock —"

"Why not?" he asked, widening his eyes innocently.

"Because it's a precious historical artefact! It needs to be treated with respect!"

"Honestly, Evans," he said, shaking his head. "I always knew you fancied me, but to call my
sock a precious artefact…"

"You know I meant the bell, you prat!"

"You're too easy to work up," he said, continuing to polish the bell. "Not that I mind, seeing
as you're cute when you're angry…"

Lily was too livid for words.

"Ah, Evans, come off it," he said, noting her expression. "I'm just taking the mickey. You
know I'm rubbish at conjuring, it's so much easier to use Transfiguration…"

"But a sock, Potter? Really?"

"Would you rather I used my shirt?" he asked with a wink.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don't bother me." She pulled her book out
of her bag and flipped to where she had left off, determined not to engage him any more than
she already had. In her peripheral vision, he shrugged and continued working.

Some time later, she looked up, only to discover that James had vanished. "Potter?" she said
loudly. She stood and walked to the edge of the wooden platform. There was no sign of him.
"Are you there?"

A foot peeked over the top of the enormous Bell of Merlin, followed by the rest of him.
James was hanging upside-down in the air, as if suspended by the ankle. "You called?" he
asked, his voice strangely muffled.

Lily almost screamed. "Get — get down from there — if you fall and break your neck —"

"I imagine you'd get to turn in early if I did," said James, still talking as if he was chewing a
large wad of gum. His mop of hair was even more tousled now that he was upside-down. He
kept his wand pointed at himself, and with a jerking motion, he levitated up and over the
massive bell so that he was floating in the air in front of Lily, high above the crisscrossing
wooden beams.

"Are you insane?" she said, beginning to sincerely think he might be.

"Well, how else was I going to clean the very top of the bell? Since I can't use cleaning
charms —"
"You could have used a ladder like a normal person!" she exclaimed. "You could have
levitated your rag —"

"Ladders are for Muggles." He used his free hand to pull down his shirt, which had come
untucked from his trousers and was flopped over his face. "And as far as the rag goes,
where's the fun in that?"

"You're in detention! It's not supposed to be fun!"

"And yet I'm having a great time," he said, grinning broadly. "You should come up here too
and — oops —"

His rag had fallen out of his pocket, tumbling through the rafters of the belfry. He turned his
wand away from himself, towards the falling rag, and she realised what was about to happen.
"Accio —"

"POTTER, NO!"

But it was too late. James dangled in the air for a moment, his eyes widening in shock as he
realised what he'd done; he clapped one hand over his mouth, almost comically. Then, his
levitation spell broken, he dropped like a rock, plummeting headfirst through the lattice of
wooden beams, towards the bottom of the tower —

"LEVICORPUS!" yelled Lily, dropping to her knees at the edge of the platform and pointing
her wand downward. If he actually falls to his death tonight —

There was a crash, then silence. Lily's pulse hammered in her throat. Come on, come on —

A large, dark shape sped upwards, smashing through the rafters and flying above her head.
Ten feet above her, it stopped.

"Er." James Potter grimaced as he hung upside-down in the air. "Thanks. Think I might have
broken a foot, though…"

Lily flicked her wand, jerking him towards her until he was dangling above the platform.
"Liberacorpus," she growled, too angry to cast the spell nonverbally. He collapsed beside her,
groaning and holding his ankle tenderly.

Lily briefly considered leaving James to fend for himself — broken bones were
commonplace at Hogwarts, and this was surely not his first — but her conscience got the
better of her. With a sigh, she knelt down and rolled up his trouser leg to expose his ankle,
which was badly cut and beginning to swell.

"I suppose this gets you out of detention," she said, straightening. "Since we'll have to take
you to the hospital wing. Though how you expect to climb down the ladder with a broken
ankle is beyond me…"

"I can do it," said James through gritted teeth as he crawled towards the ladder. "And I'm not
going to the hospital wing."
"Fine by me," said Lily. James looked up, seeming genuinely surprised that she was not
arguing the point. She rolled her eyes at his expression. "It's not my problem that you don't
even have the common sense to go see Madam Pomfrey after a fall."

"That wasn't… technically… a fall," he panted, easing himself down the ladder. "Seeing as I
didn't actually hit the ground."

That was almost funny. Not that she'd ever admit it. "I wouldn't be so certain," she said. "Test
my patience again and you might just find yourself at the bottom of the belfry."

"Surely you wouldn't hurt a cripple," he replied, wincing as he climbed down the rungs.

Lily bit back a smile. "Go ahead and try me."

After what seemed like ages, they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Lily gave the
password to let them in. She climbed into the portrait hole, but James remained outside.

"Erm…" he said awkwardly. "You know… I was thinking I might go down to the hospital
wing after all. My ankle actually hurts a lot."

"Great idea," said Lily. She wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and finish reading
her novel. Babysitting James was exhausting. "You do that."

"I will," said James. "And, er, Evans…"

She kept going. The portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut behind her, and she didn't look back.

Sirius pulled off the Invisibility Cloak as soon as the entrance to the Gryffindor common
room had closed behind Lily. "Let me get this straight," he said. "Your punishment for
duelling to impress Lily Evans… was that you got to spend more time with Lily Evans? How
did you manage that one?"

"I know," said James. He hobbled to where Sirius and Peter stood, grimacing from pain.
"Lucky me, I guess."

"I think there might be something wrong with your ankle, mate," observed Peter as James
draped an arm around his shoulders for support. "Just a feeling I've got."

"Really?" said James. "That's funny, I hadn't noticed…"

Sirius pulled the Invisibility Cloak over the three of them, and they vanished from sight.
"Your little date with Evans went poorly, I assume," he said as they started down the corridor.
"Even by your usual standards…"
"Not my most shining moment, yeah," agreed James. "Kept my leaf in though, which was
bloody difficult. You've got everything we need?" he added. Sirius nodded.

"I can't believe we're finally doing it," said Peter as they rounded a corner. "After three years
of trying—"

"Don't jinx it yet, Pete," warned James. "There's still about five hundred feet before we reach
the Astronomy tower."

But they climbed to the top of the tower without incident, apart from James' muttered curses
as he hopped up the stairs.

"Sweet Merlin, and it's a clear night," said Sirius, looking at the starry sky. The full moon
hung bright and heavy above them. "Couldn't ask for better."

"Yeah," said James as he pulled off the Cloak. "It's weird, isn't it? Thinking right now,
Moony's…" he trailed off and glanced beyond the parapet, towards Hogsmeade.

"Soon he'll have us for company, at least," said Sirius. He pulled the decanter made of black
glass out of his bag, along with three crystal phials and the package bound with twine that
James had picked up from Pippin's.

"What form do you think your Animagus will take?" Peter asked Sirius, who was arranging
the phials along the wall of the parapet.

"Well, yours will be a mosquito, obviously…"

James snorted and unwrapped the package, revealing three chrysalises the colour of clotted
blood. "Are we ready?"

Sirius and Peter nodded and took a step back from the wall. James spared another glance at
the moon.

"Together then," he said. "One, two, three —"

He reached into his mouth and pulled out his leaf, while the other two did the same.
Mandrake leaves were generally thick and fibrous, but being exposed to saliva for a month
had turned his to a dark green paste. He dropped the mush into one of the phials, and Sirius
and Peter followed his lead.

Then he unstoppered the decanter, measuring out a trickle of dew with a silver teaspoon. He
poured the dew into the phials, one teaspoon at a time, and placed a chrysalis into each phial.
Finally, all three of them tugged out a lock of their own hair and added it to the mixtures.

Satisfied, James stoppered the phials and stepped back. They waited.

Nothing happened.

Peter broke the silence first. "That's it? After all that work?"
"I was expecting something a little more dramatic," agreed Sirius with a shrug. "But I guess
we'll have to wait till the next electrical storm for that."

"But a storm could take ages," said Peter. "Are we supposed to just sit around —"

"Yeah, we are, actually," said James irritably. His ankle was hurting worse now, throbbing
with every second he put weight on it. "We'll lock our potions in the dorms, so we won't be
tempted to look —"

"By 'we', he means you, Pete," said Sirius, nudging Peter.

"— and we'll say the incantations, and we'll wait." James tucked his phial inside his robes.
His injured ankle rolled underneath him, and he stumbled. Sirius caught him before he could
fall.

"You should really go see Madam Pomfrey, mate," he said. He pulled his wand out of his
robe and conjured a pair of crude wooden crutches for James to lean on.

"Show-off," muttered James, but he took the crutches.

As he turned to leave, he looked once again towards Hogsmeade. It might've been his
imagination, but he thought he could hear a distant, mournful howl.
 The Laughing Pear

The next morning, James woke to pain shooting up his leg. Sirius was sitting on the end of
his bed, shaking him by the calf.

"Ow, Sirius — stop it, would you? My ankle…"

"Oops, sorry mate — forgot —" Sirius hopped off the bed. "It's sunrise, though. Thought you
wouldn't want to miss it, considering…"

The pain in his ankle ebbed. James yawned and sat up. "Good thinking. After all that work
with the Mandrake leaf, I'd hate to ruin things on the very first day…" He groped for his
wand, which was lying on the nightstand beside him. "Is Peter up?"

"I am now," came a voice, and Peter's head appeared as he drew back the curtains to James'
four poster bed. "Are we ready?"

James nodded and pressed the tip of his wand to his chest. "Amato Animo Animato
Animagus," he intoned. A warm flush spread through his body as he said the words. Sirius
went next, wand over heart, followed by Peter, who nearly stumbled over the incantation.

"Don't muck it up, Pete, or you really will turn into a mosquito," said Sirius, returning to his
bed and pulling a set of school robes off the floor.

Peter made a face. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

"Nah," said James as he changed into his uniform. "You'd become some sort of mosquito-
human hybrid. Shunned by society as an abomination, you'll have to flee to the Forbidden
Forest, where you'll live out the rest of your days in hiding. First years will speak in hushed
tones of the blood-sucking monstrosity that lurks in the dark, watching… waiting…"

This did not seem to reassure Peter, but Sirius laughed. "Come on, mate," he said, clapping a
hand on Peter's back. "You'll be fine. Worst case, we'll have two beasts hiding in the
Shrieking Shack."

Sirius conjured up another pair of crutches for James to use, and they descended the many
staircases of Hogwarts. On the first floor landing, James bid goodbye to his friends and
plodded towards the hospital wing.

He shouldered open the doors of the infirmary in time to see Madam Pomfrey slip behind a
curtain at the far end of the room. She murmured something, and a soft voice responded, but
he wasn't able to make out the words. He crutched over to one of the nearby beds and sat
down gingerly, extending his injured leg in front of him.

After a few minutes, Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtain. Her shoes clicked
loudly on the floor as she strode towards him. She was a young witch — she couldn't have
been out of her mid-twenties — with large brown eyes and an open face. James was
thoroughly committed to badgering Lily Evans until the end of time, but he considered
Madam Pomfrey an excellent second choice when Lily wasn't available.

"Hullo, Poppy," he said, lifting a hand in greeting.

Madam Pomfrey tutted. "Five points from Gryffindor. What is it now, Potter?"

James grinned. "Only five points? I was expecting ten."

"I thought about it," she said, and though her voice was firm, her eyes sparkled fondly. "But
you appear to actually be injured this time, so I will overlook your disrespect."

She knelt beside him and rolled up his trouser leg, much the same way Lily had done. "Mind
telling me what happened?"

James flinched as she prodded his ankle with her wand. "Well, I didn't fall down—"

"Quite right," she said. "Judging from the angle of the break, you seem to actually have
fallen up." She pressed her wand into the skin of his ankle and closed her eyes, as if listening
to what his leg had to say. "Another victim of the Levicorpus, I think?"

James' eyes watered. Her wand was really digging into his leg. "Basically."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Imagine, taking turns flinging each other into the air and
being surprised when someone gets hurt. Teenagers, I tell you…" She tapped his ankle twice
with her wand. "Emendo."

Immediately the pain subsided, and the swelling decreased before James' eyes. Even the
bruising faded.

"You're the greatest witch of our time," he said, relaxing.

"I should think so," replied Madam Pomfrey. She stood up and stowed her wand in the pocket
of her apron. "I get quite a lot of practice from you and your friends alone. Speaking of
which…" She nodded towards the occupied bed at the end of the infirmary. "He's not
supposed to have visitors, but Remus might appreciate if you said hi before you left."

James Vanished his makeshift crutches with a wave of his wand and walked towards the bed
hidden behind the curtain.

Remus rolled over slowly as James pulled back the curtain. "Hi," said Remus hoarsely. He
sounded as if he'd been screaming, and his lips were badly chapped. The only colour in his
face came from the dark purple bruises ringing his eyes.

"Moony," said James as he sat on the edge of the bed. "You look great."

Remus smiled weakly. "It's been a long night."

"Listen," said James. He peered beyond the curtain to make sure Madam Pomfrey was out of
hearing distance. Leaning closer to Remus, he lowered his voice. "We did it."
Remus frowned as if he didn't understand.

"Last night," said James. "We went up to the Astronomy tower and made the potion. It went
perfectly. All we have to do now is wait for a storm, and that shouldn't take more than a
couple of months."

Remus didn't respond. He looked for a moment as if he might cry, and he shut his eyes,
breathing deeply. "I never asked —"

"'Course you didn't," said James, raising an eyebrow. "You're Remus Lupin. If you were
playing Seeker at the Quidditch World Cup you wouldn't ask for a broom."

"You shouldn't have —"

"But we did," said James. "We've started the incantations, so there's no backing out now."

Remus didn't seem happy to hear this. He grimaced, as if James' words caused him physical
pain.

James looked at him. "At some point, Moony, you have to get used to the idea that you have
friends." He stood up and turned to leave. "Get some rest. Let Poppy pamper you. And look
forward to the storm."

There was a pit in Lily's stomach as she made her way to Dungeon Two for Potions with the
Slytherins. She hadn't seen Severus since they'd rowed the day before, and she wasn't much
looking forward to working with him in class. Though she was determined not to back down
from what she'd said, she secretly hoped he'd pretend their argument had never happened.
That way they could avoid the conversation altogether.

She reached the dungeon five minutes before the lesson was to start. She'd wanted to arrive
before Severus, but he was already at their table, leafing absentmindedly through his Potions
text. She slid into the seat beside him and could tell immediately that he hadn't forgotten what
had happened the day before.

"Hi," she said tentatively, pulling her copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of her bag.

He turned a page, not looking at her. Lily bit her lip and pretended to search for something in
her bag.

There was a crash near the front of the room, and a few voices erupted in laughter. James
Potter had arrived with Sirius and Peter, and by the sound of it, they'd just broken an
extremely expensive set of gold scales. While Sirius and Peter laughed uproariously, James
mended the scales with a flick of his wand. He caught Lily's eye and winked as he strolled to
the back of the classroom. There was no trace of a limp in his stride.
So he went to Madam Pomfrey after all, she thought with a rush of vindication. Had he told
his little gang about the unflattering way he'd injured his leg? Probably not; the story didn't
paint him in a very good light. Then again, maybe they'd think it was funny that he'd been
stupid enough to Levicorpus himself to the top of the bell. There was no telling with boys.

Inspiration struck her, and she turned to Severus, who was doing his best to emanate an air of
complete indifference to James' entrance. "You'll never guess what Potter did last night," she
whispered.

Severus raised his eyebrows slightly, but he continued to stare at his textbook. "Whatever it
was, it's a pity he didn't break his neck in the process."

"He almost did, actually," she said, and she filled him in on what had happened in the belfry,
making sure to emphasise just how close James had been to death. It didn't take much
exaggeration, really.

By the time she had finished relating the whole story, Severus was making eye contact with
her again, and there was a hint of a smile on his face. "Pity you felt the need to save him," he
said. "I would have used Accelaro Momentum and let the chips fall where they may."

"It's the Gryffindor in me," sighed Lily, and Severus laughed. She turned to drape her bag
over the back of her chair and stopped as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. James was
watching her from the back of the classroom, no longer smiling.

Lily swallowed. He couldn't have overheard her, could he? Though she had made some wild
hand gestures when describing how he'd dropped like a rock through the scaffolding. It
probably wouldn't have been difficult for him to figure out what she'd been talking about.

She flashed him a tight-lipped smile, which he didn't return, and turned to face the front of
the room. It's his own fault for being such a prat, she thought, trying to assuage her guilty
conscience.

Professor Slughorn entered, his arms full of some kind of flowering plant. "Hellebore,"
whispered Severus, and Lily nodded excitedly. Slughorn dropped the wildflowers on his desk
and removed his thick leather gloves, then Vanished the traces of dirt and leaves that clung to
his robes.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Slughorn genially, hushing the students who were
still talking. "Lots to do today, though I daresay you'll have time enough to chat later. Today's
lesson," he said, with a gesture towards the plants on the table, "will be on the various
properties of hellebore."

He waved his wand, and a large diagram of the plant appeared on the blackboard behind him.
"As some of you may already know, hellebore is quite a versatile plant, containing an array of
uses. The leaves, though toxic in large quantities, can treat paralysis and alleviate insanity.
The flowers, on the other hand…"

As he continued to lecture, Lily's hand began to cramp from the sheer amount of notes she
took. Professor Slughorn wasn't wrong; hellebore had an astonishing number of effects in
potion-making, depending on the ingredients used alongside it. Beside her, Severus listened
attentively, jotting the occasional note in his Potions book.

After his lecture, Professor Slughorn tasked them with inventing a potion whose properties
could be attributed to hellebore, and the room began to hum with activity.

"Well, we could make a poison, but that wouldn't be very subtle," said Lily, flipping through
her textbook.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Everyone's going to make a poison. It's the most obvious option. We
can do better than that."

"I wonder if we could do something related to Disillusionment," said Lily as she reviewed
her notes. "Considering it can be used to cure insanity, which is a sort of mental illusion,
right? If we could make that take a physical effect…"

"Interesting." Severus began to scribble a list on one of the blank pages at the back of his
Potions book. "We'll have to account for the toxic side effects, of course, but that should be
straightforward, if tedious."

"We might need to add lacewing flies, too, since they can enhance potions-based
Transfigurations. What do you think?"

"Absolutely." Severus' quill flew across the page. "We also ought to use Devil's Snare as the
anti-poison."

"You love using Devil's Snare," said Lily. "Think of something else we could use as the anti-
poison."

"Why should I? If Devil's Snare is versatile, with minimal side effects…"

Lily gave him an exasperated look, but she couldn't hide her smile. "Because Devil's Snare is
native to South America, and hellebore is as common as my parentage, so we should use
ingredients that match, alright?"

Severus winced, which surprised Lily; she had expected him to laugh.

"I wasn't aware we were trying to make a potion we could brew in Cokeworth," he said
mildly, but he scratched the word 'Devil's Snare' off his list.

Lily narrowed her eyes and turned back to the parchment she had been scribbling on. He was
acting as if he didn't understand that she'd just made a Muggle-born joke. She couldn't fathom
the reason why; she'd poked similar fun before and he'd found it amusing. Maybe her
delivery had fallen flat. Maybe the political correctness of the Ministry was rubbing off on
him.

Or maybe, she realised with a sinking feeling, it's not so funny when you're in league with
people who actually believe that rubbish.
They continued working together, but something in the air between them had changed.
Severus resisted her efforts to chat about anything other than their potion and continually
steered the conversation back to the properties of hellebore.

At the end of the lesson, Slughorn prompted each table to stand and demonstrate their potion
on a rat. Severus had been right; the majority of students had made poisons, finding no other
use for hellebore. James Potter and Sirius Black, in particular, had invented a poison so lethal
that their rat collapsed, paws twitching, after merely sniffing the fumes.

When it was Lily and Severus' turn to demonstrate, she was delighted to see that their rat
went entirely translucent except for its tail, but Severus barely reacted. The bell signalling the
end of the period rang, and Severus brushed past her with barely a muttered 'goodbye'.

A few of the other Slytherins were watching her as she packed her bag. Mulciber was among
them, and in his expression was nothing friendly.

"So we can all agree that Snivellus is definitely a Death Eater now, right?" James asked his
friends later that afternoon. They had just stopped by the hospital wing to pick up Remus,
who looked slightly less peaky after having slept the entire day. "Judging by the way he kept
making eyes at Mulciber during Potions?"

Sirius nodded. "If he isn't at least considering joining, I'll eat Sluggy's entire stock of
hellebore."

"You should have seen him in class today, Moony," said Peter as Remus swallowed the last of
the Invigoration Draught that Madam Pomfrey had pressed upon him. "He was working with
Lily, and when they had to present together, he got all fidgety and acted like he didn't know
her."

"I can't imagine that was very convincing," said Remus. "Considering they've been
inseparable for years."

"Greasy, hook-nosed git," muttered James. "It was so disrespectful. I don't know why she
keeps overlooking the fact that he's a slimeball."

"Some birds are like that, though," said Sirius, lifting a shoulder. "They give too many
chances. It's a low self-esteem thing."

"Come off it," said James. "Evans isn't —"

"I think it has more to do with Snape being her childhood friend," said Remus. The potion
appeared to be taking effect; there was a spring in his step as they rounded a corner. "It must
be difficult to grow apart from someone you know so well."
"Setting Lily Evans aside for half a second," said Sirius impatiently, "are we all in agreement
that our favourite Slytherin needs a little reminder about how to behave himself?"

"Absolutely," said James at once, and Peter nodded vigorously beside him. Remus raised his
eyebrows, but he didn't object.

At the bottom of the marble staircase, James and Sirius were debating the merits of turning
Severus into a footstool when the door to the Great Hall slammed open. Lily was leaving the
Great Hall in such a rush that she struggled to sling her bag over her shoulder. She stopped
short when she saw the four boys on the stairs.

"Lily," said Remus, surprised. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Just getting back to the common room," she said evasively. "If you'll excuse me…"

She tried to squeeze past them, but James put an arm out, blocking her path. "If you want to
have dinner, you're going the wrong way," he said.

"I just ate," she said, but she wouldn't meet his eye. "And I have some work to do."

"It's awfully early to be finished eating already," commented Peter.

Lily flushed. "If you must know, there're some people in the Great Hall I'd rather not see, so I
figured I'd just…"

"Sit in your dormitory and starve?" asked James.

"Something along those lines, yeah," she snapped. "Now would you let me through?"

"Why don't you come to dinner with us instead?" asked James. Behind him, Sirius let out a
small groan.

Lily gave him a scathing look. "I just said I'm not interested in eating in the Great Hall, not
that I'm surprised that you weren't listening, so…"

"Oh, we're not eating there either," said James, undeterred. "We're headed to the kitchens. It's
something of a tradition on — on days like these."

"The kitchens?" asked Lily, seemingly in spite of herself. "There are kitchens at Hogwarts?"

"Obviously," said Sirius. "Where do you think the house-elves do the cooking?"

Lily's eyes grew even wider. "There are house-elves at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, Lily," said Remus, stepping forward. He took her by the arm, and she reluctantly
allowed him to guide her down the wide stone steps. "Hogwarts has many secrets that us
prefects aren't privy to. Troublemakers like James and Sirius, on the other hand…"

Sirius yawned and stretched as they walked towards a door partially concealed by the marble
staircase. "If you're from a family that keeps house-elves, it doesn't take a genius to figure out
that Hogwarts has them, too. Who did you think made your bed every morning?"

Lily's brow furrowed. "I've never really thought about it. I assumed magic kept our dormitory
looking nice."

"That's sweet," said James. "I love Muggle-borns, they're so innocent." Lily shot him a glare
so sharp he was surprised it didn't cut him, and Sirius elbowed him in the ribs. James pulled
the door open to reveal a flight of stone steps descending into darkness. "Ladies first," he
said, gesturing Lily forward.

At the bottom of the steps was a dimly lit corridor with large paintings of food hanging on the
walls. "You'll want the second painting from the end," Sirius told Lily. "The one with the
bowl of fruit."

"Is there a password?" she asked, walking up to the painting in question.

"None that we've found," said James. "You just tickle the pear." He touched the canvas
gently, wiggling his fingers. The pear laughed and began to spin, turning into a large brass
doorknob. James pulled at the doorknob and the canvas swung aside, revealing the entrance
to the kitchens.

The room was huge, with a large brick fireplace roaring at one end and four long wooden
tables in the middle, mirroring the Great Hall. House-elves scurried around the room like
mice, brandishing all manner of cookware and utensils and leaping over each other in their
haste to prepare food on each of the long tables.

Lily's mouth was slightly open. "How on earth did you find this place?"

Sirius winked at her. "Trade secret, Evans. Oi, Mimsy!"

A tiny house-elf ran up to them and bowed deeply. There was a tartan cloth wrapped around
its head, pinning its ears away from its face. "Master Black and his friends are right on time!"
it squeaked. It noticed Lily, and its eyes grew large as saucers. "And Master Black has
brought a guest!"

"Master Potter has brought a guest," corrected James.

Lily frowned. "Actually, I'm here at Master Lupin's invitation." She beamed at Remus, who
smiled cheerily back at her.

James glowered. "You git," he said, elbowing Remus. "You better thank your lucky tea leaves
you're a recovering invalid…"

Mimsy guided them to a small table by the fire, which was laid out with roasted chicken,
glazed pork loin, a variety of potatoes and vegetables, and an enormous tankard of butterbeer.
There were already five places set.

"This is amazing," said Lily. She heaped some chicken onto her plate and watched the house-
elves scamper from table to table. "I had no idea… and they're so cute! I'm surprised you lot
ever eat in the Great Hall, if this is the service you get in the kitchens…"
"Er, yeah, we don't want to take them away from their duties," said James as nobly as he
could manage through a mouthful of pork. Beside him, Sirius rolled his eyes.

"How often do you come down here?" asked Lily.

James' eyes flickered to Remus, who had already finished his first plate and was helping
himself to seconds.

"Just whenever we need a little pick-me-up," said Remus evasively, tearing into a chicken
thigh. "I imagine you feel the same today. Who were you trying to avoid, by the way?"

Lily sighed. "Who do you think?"

"Aw, Lily," said Peter, "you shouldn't avoid Marlene just because she got better marks than
you on the Defence essay. There's plenty of room in Gryffindor for two talented witches…"

Sirius barked a laugh, and even Lily smiled a little. "You know it was Sev," she said.

James scowled. Of course. He should have guessed.

Lily used her fork to push at the last of the potatoes on her plate. "I got to the Great Hall
early, and I sat at the Hufflepuff table, 'cause I figured—"

"No man's land," said Sirius, and Lily nodded.

"But then Sev came in with Avery and that creep Mulciber, and he pretended not to see me,
but I know he did. And then —" she hesitated. "There's this spell he invented, that we use
when making potions. Basically, it Vanishes bones, so if you have to add a newt or
something, it dissolves easier? But after they sat down, Mulciber took out his wand and
pointed it at the roast chicken and… he de-boned the entire thing." She looked like she was
about to cry. "I don't know why Sev would have told someone like Mulciber about that spell.
It's not like — I mean, it's harmless when we use it during class, but Mulciber…"

"He doesn't strike me as the type to want to improve his Potions marks," said Sirius darkly,
and Remus nodded in agreement. James said nothing, but his frown grew deeper. What was
Severus playing at, sucking up to Mulciber?

Lily continued. "You've all heard what Mulciber says about — about people like me. If that's
who Severus wants to be around... I just don't know how to reconcile that," she said, staring
down into her lap. "He says he's just trying to keep the peace — be friends with me and those
Slytherins — "

"That's a load of steaming dragon dung," interrupted James furiously. "There are plenty of
Slytherins who are — maybe not completely good people, but basically harmless. But he's
not making friends with them — he's cosying up to Mulciber. You heard what that piece of
filth said to you in Pippin's the other day. Mulciber's swallowed all that pure-blood garbage,
and I don't know where Snivellus gets off —"

"Don't call him that," said Lily sharply, looking up. "I know he's not perfect, but —"
"What should I call him instead? Spineless Snape? Sir Severus, noble Knight of Walpurgis?"

"James..." cautioned Remus with a look at Lily, whose face was as red as her hair.

"Or maybe," said James, speaking over him, "We should call him what he is, a future Death
Eater who doesn't deserve one ounce of affection from you or from anyone — "

Pain seared through his hand, and he broke off, swearing loudly. The mug of butterbeer he'd
been holding had shattered. He glanced at Lily, whose hair was standing on end as if
crackling with electricity.

Lily stood, shaking with fury. "Sorry. Accident."

So she couldn't even control her magic when she was angry. What was she, twelve? James
sucked at the cut on his thumb. "No worries," he said flatly.

The foaming butterbeer spilt over the edge of the table, and a group of house-elves, rags in
hand, rushed to clean up the mess.

"I'm sorry," Lily said stiffly to Mimsy, who had climbed onto her chair to wipe off the table.
"Didn't mean to do that. I should get going, anyway. Thank you for the food, Mimsy. And
Remus," she said, completely ignoring James, who had opened his mouth to speak, "thank
you for the invite."

She slung her bag roughly over her shoulder and stormed out of the kitchen. Several house-
elf heads turned to watch her leave.

"Master Potter has upset the young miss!" squeaked Mimsy, waggling a thin finger at James.

"Yeah, was that really necessary?" asked Sirius. He leaned back in his chair as he watched the
house-elves clean up the butterbeer.

James ran both hands roughly through his hair, making it look messier than ever. "Sorry," he
said, directing the apology at Sirius, who merely shrugged.

"I'm not the one who fancies her, mate. Anyway —" Sirius checked his watch, which was
strapped to his wrist with a leather band and had hands pointing to Roman numerals instead
of runes. It was so obviously Muggle-made that it stood out even more than if it had twelve
faces and a phoenix replica that chimed the hour. "It's nearly sunset, so we should say the
incantation. Wands out, yeah?"

Later that week, Severus was eating breakfast alone in the Great Hall when an intimidatingly
large eagle owl landed on the table in front of him. It shook its massive wings and cocked its
head at Severus, staring at him with piercing yellow eyes. An unlabelled envelope was tied to
its leg.
Severus looked around, certain the owl meant to deliver the letter to one of the other students
at the Slytherin table, but nobody else was paying it any attention.

The eagle owl tapped one of its long black talons impatiently, like a bored bank teller. It held
out its leg haughtily, as if it had better things to be doing, and Severus untied the envelope. It
was sealed with a dollop of black wax and felt heavy in his hands. Without another sound, the
owl flapped its enormous wings and took off as quickly as it had arrived.

Severus opened the envelope. Inside was a single square of thick parchment with only a few
lines written in vivid green ink.

Congratulations, read the letter in tall, slanting handwriting. You have been selected as one of
our newest Intents. Please join us in Dungeon Thirteen on the second Saturday of March to
learn more about your role as an Intent. Midnight. Tell no one. It was signed with a large,
looping L.

Severus glanced down the table. Mulciber was holding a similar square of parchment,
looking smug, and Avery had just finished tucking something into his bag. At the far end of
the table, Bella was watching him. Upon catching his eye, she gave Severus a broad smile
and a wave, nodding approvingly at the letter he was holding.

Despite his best efforts to slip away from the Great Hall and go to Charms unnoticed, Bella
caught up with him as he ascended the stairs to the third floor.

"Did you like it?" she asked excitedly, grabbing him by the arm. Severus resisted the urge to
shake her off. "I actually wrote most of the invitations myself, Lucius has terrible
handwriting. I gave you the eagle owl on purpose," she added with a wink. "Mulciber got a
pygmy owl, the troll. He did end up using your de-boning spell, by the way. On a cat." She
rolled her eyes. "No imagination whatsoever. I wish we didn't have to include him at all, but
he'd be a legacy, so…"

Severus shrugged and skipped over a trick step in the staircase they were climbing. "Are you
an Intent too?"

"Me? Oh, no." Bella shook her head. A ringlet of hair fell haphazardly into her face, and she
brushed it back with a hand. "I'm already a Secondary. The Dark Lord considers me
practically a Primary, though. I think he's waiting until I graduate to Mark me."

Severus considered this as they reached the landing on the third floor. Bella turned to face
him. "You don't seem very excited," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "You're not
smirking or gloating or anything."

"I'm just thinking," Severus said. He glanced at the students around them. Bella followed his
gaze, frowning. She grabbed his arm again — he really hated this much physical contact —
and dragged him down the corridor, into an alcove hidden by an old tapestry depicting a
unicorn hunt.

"So?" she demanded. The alcove was so small that their foreheads were practically touching.
Severus met her gaze without blinking as he composed his response. "You told me we were
alike," he said finally. "Surely you know the reason I'm less than thrilled."

Comprehension dawned on Bella's face. "Is it that Mudblood girl you hang around with? You
think she won't approve?" She laughed, seeming relieved. "I have a simple solution for you,
Sev. Don't tell her what you're doing."

"I can't lie to her," said Severus. "She's not stupid. And I don't want to lose her as a friend."

"Oh, that'll happen regardless," said Bella dismissively. "Honestly, you will have to choose
between her and us at some point. But when the time comes, the choice will be easy. It will
be!" she insisted when he looked sceptical. "There's so much opportunity here for you. To
learn magic, real magic, without the limitations Dumbledore puts on us, that silly old has-
been. To form connections, and make friends —"

"I have friends," snapped Severus.

"You have one friend, which is pathetic," said Bella casually. Severus winced. She leaned in
closer — she really was quite a bit taller than him — and put her hand on the back of his
neck. "You need to stop self-sabotaging and trust that becoming a Follower will be good for
you. I see your potential, and I am on your side. Don't make me regret taking an interest in
you."

With that, she released him and strode out of the alcove.

Even though he was surely late to Charms by now, Severus couldn't bring himself to move
from where he was planted. As he stared at the tapestry fluttering behind her, he rubbed the
back of his neck, which still tingled from her touch.
 Win, Lose and Draw

Lily burst into her dormitory, startling the other girls as she stormed through the room and
rummaged noisily through the trunk at the foot of her bed. "Of course I'm out of rue," she
muttered, rifling through the jumble of books, parchment, and satchels of varying sizes in her
trunk.

"What's wrong?" asked Mary Macdonald. She and Marlene McKinnon were sitting together
on Mary's bed, swapping Charms notes and comparing essays. Across the room, Parvana
Patil was lying on her back in bed, wand pointed at a set of miniature Quidditch figures
zooming around in the air above her. "You seem a little… how can I put this…"

"Stressed out?" said Marlene, and Mary nodded.

Lily sighed. "Two words," she said. "James. Potter."

Mary made a sympathetic noise, and Marlene's mouth quirked up at the corner.

"What's he done now?" asked Parvana, sitting up and using her wand to direct the Quidditch
figurines back into a velvet pouch.

"You know how Gryffindor plays Hufflepuff this weekend?" asked Lily.

"How could we forget?" Marlene shared a glance with Parvana, who was also on the
Quidditch team. "James has been working us half to death doing drills. He's mad about
winning the Cup."

"Exactly," said Lily. "This morning during breakfast, he made every student at the Hufflepuff
table roar like a lion. Every. Student."

"Probably tampered with the pumpkin juice," said Mary sagely. "It's always the pumpkin
juice."

"Those poor Hufflepuffs," said Marlene, who looked like she was struggling not to smile.
"That sounds awful."

"It was!" said Lily. "Because when we — the other prefects — tried to reverse the charm, we
weren't able to, and we tried everything. The Hufflepuffs started roaring louder and louder as
they got more and more panicked about not being able to talk…"

"Wow, that actually sounds like fun," said Mary. "Remind me not to skip breakfast anymore,
Marly."

"Wait a minute," said Parvana. "How do you know it was James who did it, and not some
other Gryffindor fanatic?"
"Easy," said Lily. "He came over and told me he'd let me in on the countercharm if I agreed to
go out with him."

"Ah," said Marlene. "Definitely James, then."

"He is such a brute," sighed Mary, pulling a brush through her wavy brown hair. "A
handsome, talented, charming brute…"

Lily rolled her eyes. "He's not even that good-looking. Sirius Black is leagues above him in
that department…"

"Ooh, someone fancies Sirius," teased Marlene, patting the bed to indicate Lily should join
them. "Come sit, we can gossip about Gryffindor boys and copy each other's homework, it'll
be fun."

Lily laughed, shaking her head. "I wish, but I can't right now, Marly, I've got to go — "

"But it's free period!" said Mary.

"I've got that project for Slughorn I need to work on," said Lily. "Honestly, if I'd known at the
beginning of the year that it would take up so much time, I don't think I'd have even started.
The potion I'm trying to brew is so finicky."

"Yeah, but you'll definitely get extra points on your O.W.L.," said Parvana, and Mary nodded
her agreement. "It'll be worth it when you get an Outstanding."

"At this point, I'd rather take an E if it meant I got my non-existent free time back."

"Aw, it can't be that bad." Marlene ran her hands through her short, choppy blonde hair,
making it stand up at the ends. "Brewing potions is just following instructions, right?
Tedious, confusing instructions, mind you, but all the same…"

"This one's… different." Lily hesitated. Slughorn had impressed upon her the importance of
secrecy when it came to this potion, considering how easily it could be misused if it fell into
the wrong hands. Still, she knew the other girls in her year were trustworthy, even if she
wasn't as close with them as she was with Severus. "Look, don't spread it around, alright,
but… I'm trying to make Felix Felicis."

Parvana's eyes widened. Mary yelped and clapped a hand over her mouth. "You are joking!"

"Merlin's soiled pants," said Marlene. "You're not actually planning on using it during your
Potions O.W.L., right?"

"Of course not!" said Lily quickly. "It really is just to impress the examiners. But it's so
finicky, it keeps spoiling because it's really sensitive to atmospheric changes and the phases
of the moon. I keep trying to correct it with common rue, but you have to use a kilo to have
any sort of effect, and it's just…"

"Miserable?" asked Marlene, and Lily nodded.

"Makes me glad I'm going for a job in Muggle Relations," said Mary, rolling onto her
stomach. "No more Potions after this year! It'll be great."

"Right," said Marlene sarcastically. "You'll be able to spend all your time answering
questions about what a light bulb is instead, what a great trade."

Mary leaned over and jostled Marlene's shoulder in retaliation, causing Marlene to spill ink
all over the bedsheets.

"Low blow, Macdonald!" said Marlene, reaching for her wand. "Evanesco — oh, bugger — I
swear that was an accident… " Her spell had removed the ink from the bed, but had wiped
Mary's parchment clean as well.

"Oh, it's fine, I'll just have to copy yours now," said Mary happily. "You're a better writer than
me, anyway. Lily, you're sure you don't want to study with us? Marlene could ruin your essay
too, it'd be a laugh…"

"Tempting." Lily smiled. "But I really should go look for some more rue."

"So diligent," sighed Mary. "It's a character trait I'll never possess, going into Muggle
Relations and all…"

Marlene snorted. "By the way, Lily," she said. "Since you're going out, would you mind
looking for Fletcher? We haven't seen him in a week or so — I'm wondering if he got
sidetracked by all the raw meat in Hagrid's hut."

"Oh, alright," said Lily. Fletcher was Mary and Marlene's cat: they had adopted him after
second year and were especially proud of having trained him to deliver letters like an owl.
Being a cat, he wasn't very efficient at it, and they often went long stretches without seeing
him. But he was generally capable of bringing the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet up
from Hogsmeade's post office. "I'll let you know if I find him."

She bid her friends goodbye and left the dormitory, making her way through the castle and
onto the grounds of Hogwarts. It was early March, and the weather was just warm and sunny
enough to make Lily hopeful that spring really was on its way. She meandered towards the
edge of the lake; as she passed the last of the greenhouses, she heard a familiar voice.

"Lily — wait up!"

Severus was jogging towards her, stuffing some papers roughly into his bag.

"Hi," she said warily as he caught up to her. She hadn't seen much of him recently: he had
practically stopped eating meals in the Great Hall and was never in any of their regular
meeting places.

"Where are you going?" he asked, falling into step with her.

"Why do you want to know?" she said coolly. "Thought you were tired of hanging around
me."
"That's not — I…" spluttered Severus. "I've been busy, alright?"

"Busy with your new mates? With Mulciber?"

"He's not — They're not — " Severus stopped, his cheeks turning red. "Look, I wanted to
apologise. I know I haven't been a great friend to you recently."

"No, you haven't," agreed Lily. "I don't appreciate it when my best friend avoids me without
telling me why."

"I wouldn't, either." His thin shoulders drooped. "But I won't disappear anymore. It's just…"

"Just what, Sev? What's your excuse this time?"

"I'm not trying to make excuses!" he said hurriedly. "Honestly, I'm not. And I haven't been
hanging out with my 'mates', as you call them. I've been spending time alone. I've needed to
think."

"About what?"

"About where my life is going. About what I want to do after Hogwarts. And — don't say 'I
told you so' — about the people in Slytherin who want to be my friend all of a sudden."

"Do you want to be their friend?" asked Lily. They reached the edge of the lake, and as they
walked she scoured the banks for rue.

Severus shrugged. "Not really. But I don't know how to say so without causing more trouble.
What are you looking for?"

She ignored his question. "Why don't you want to cause trouble?"

"If you're looking for bladderwort, I could lend you some. I've got loads."

"I'm not looking for bladderwort," she said. Severus sighed, and they continued walking in
silence.

"I made you something," he said at last. "To make up for being a bad friend."

She glanced at him in spite of herself. He really did look sorry. "What is it?"

Severus pulled his wand out of the sleeve of his robes. "I call it the Langlock Jinx. It glues
the victim's tongue to the roof of their mouth. I thought it might be useful the next time Potter
is harassing you."

Lily smiled. "I could have used that this morning, with the Hufflepuffs, actually. Were you in
the Great Hall during breakfast?"

"No, but I heard about it. Emma Vanity told me."

"Oh, it was awful, Sev. We couldn't figure out how to make them stop roaring, and then
Potter said he'd tell me if I went out with him…"

Severus' mouth twisted in disgust, but something like nervousness gleamed in his black eyes.
"What did you say?"

"No, of course! I'd date a troll before I'd touch Potter."

"That's an offence against trolls," said Severus, relaxing a little. "They can't help being large
and stupid. Some people actually prefer that in a mate, you know."

"True," said Lily, laughing. "Though I've never understood — oh, look, rue!" She ran over to
a clump of wildflowers growing beneath a large oak tree whose branches extended over the
lake. She pulled out a small knife and handkerchief and cut a generous handful, wrapping it
up delicately, without letting the flowers touch her skin.

"Rue?" said Severus, amused. "That's what you wouldn't tell me you were looking for?"

Lily's cheeks turned pink. "Well, I was angry!"

"But we passed a patch of rue ages ago. I thought about pointing it out, but I didn't think
you'd be interested."

"Oh… did we?" Lily tucked the bundle into her bag. "That teaches me to get distracted. You
didn't happen to notice a fat tabby cat running around, did you?"

"No. Why?"

"Fletcher is missing. Mary and Marlene's cat? He runs off all the time. I told them I'd keep an
eye out for him." She glanced at Severus, who looked a little pale. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, turning away from her. "Back to the castle, then, since you've found what
you were looking for?"

Lily stretched, tilting her face towards the sun. "Let's stay out here a bit more, at least till
lunch. You can teach me the Langlock Jinx without anyone butting in."

Severus nodded, and they settled on the grassy bank, throwing clods of dirt into the lake and
taking turns pointing their wands at each other, laughing. When the bells signalling the end of
the period began to toll, they took their time walking back up to the castle for lunch. Upon
entering the Great Hall, they sat together at the Hufflepuff table without even discussing it, as
if it was the most natural thing in the world.

On Saturday morning, James tramped through wet grass gleaming with dew as he led the
Gryffindor team down to the Quidditch pitch.
"Right," he said after they had all changed into their scarlet Quidditch robes. "Hufflepuff's
going to be a decent match for us this time around. They've got a great Seeker and a decent
Keeper, but their Chasers are hopeless, which is good news for us. We need to score as many
points as possible — and as quickly as possible, in case they catch the Snitch first. Marlene
and Otis, you're aiming your Bludgers at the Hufflepuff Chasers unless you hear me say
otherwise. Parvana, don't look for the Snitch yourself unless their Seeker is distracted. Stay
on his tail."

Parvana nodded in agreement and James pulled on his gloves. Outside the changing room,
Madam Hooch whistled, signalling that the match was about to start.

"We can do this," said James. "Make me proud out there." He picked up his broom, and the
rest of the team followed suit.

The sun blinded him as he stepped onto the Quidditch pitch, and he raised a hand to shield
his eyes. The stands were packed with students wearing their respective team's colours,
clusters of crimson and gold mixed with rows of yellow and black. Dozens of banners and
scarves flapped in the breeze, and there were cheers as the two teams lined up in the centre of
the pitch.

"Captains, shake hands," said Madam Hooch. James stepped forward to clasp hands with the
Hufflepuff Captain and Keeper, Frank Longbottom, a seventh-year who was much taller than
he was. The two teams mounted their brooms, and with a shrill whistle from Madam Hooch,
they took to the air.

"And they're off," announced Sirius Black, sounding bored. He was almost as much of a
Quidditch fanatic as James, but he'd been suspended from the team after racking up a record
number of fouls against Slytherin during the previous year's Quidditch final. Professor
McGonagall, in a rare moment of weakness, had allowed Sirius to take up match commentary
for the duration of his year's suspension, a decision she had immediately and obviously
regretted. "Took them long enough, but Potter probably got caught up doing his hair. Look at
how tousled it is. That much volume takes effort, it does."

James grinned as he caught the Quaffle and tucked it under his arm. He nudged his broom
forward, speeding towards the Hufflepuff hoops.

"Gryffindor in possession of the Quaffle, Potter passes to Peregrine Flint — good thinking on
his part, don't want that hair getting too windswept — Flint to Suzuki, and I can't believe
they've outflown all of the Hufflepuff Chasers already. Hufflepuffs might actually be as thick
as everyone believes, judging by these flying skills — alright, too far, sorry Professor
McGonagall — sorry, Hufflepuff, you know I love you all — it's Suzuki against Longbottom
now, she shoots — and…" Sirius groaned. "Longbottom makes the save. No surprises there,
though, he's practically the size of Hagrid. Suzuki should try going between his legs next
time, she'd probably fit… that wasn't innuendo, Professor, that was an innocent joke, but the
whole stadium's thinking it now —"

Within the first fifteen minutes, Gryffindor scored twice, but they made three more attempts
on the Hufflepuff hoops that were easily blocked by Longbottom. Meanwhile, both Seekers
hovered far above the pitch, zigzagging back and forth as they searched for the Snitch.
"Another great save, courtesy of Longbottom… Gryffindor needs to pull Suzuki, she's too
timid with her shots. James, mate, send someone out who can shove Longbottom off his
broom… hang on, Eustace Fawley, the Hufflepuff Seeker, is doing something
interesting. Finally, it's been, what, twenty minutes?… Anyway, I assume he's seen the
Snitch, he's speeding down, Gryffindor Seeker Patil catching up and… oh, ouch…"

James heard the collision from across the pitch and groaned. Parvana was normally fairly
reserved, but when playing Quidditch she was an absolute daredevil, making dramatic plays
that even he found risky. Not that he would ever dream of telling her to tone it down.

Sirius' voice came on over the magical megaphone. "Patil absolutely steams into Fawley —
that wasn't innuendo, Professor, it's just the way my voice sounds, you know I can't help that
— alright, moving on, looks like Patil's deliberately crashed into him, knocking him off
course but taking a nasty beating herself in the process… Madam Hooch considering calling
a penalty, decides against it — and it looks like Fawley's lost the Snitch. Shame, too, since
this match is a Seeker's to win…"

A well-timed Bludger knocked the Quaffle out of the hands of a Hufflepuff Chaser. Peregrine
Flint swooped down, caught the ball, and passed it to James, who sped towards Hufflepuff's
goalposts. Longbottom was hovering in front of the hoops, arms bent at the elbow, ready to
catch the Quaffle —

"Potter shoots — NO! He FEINTS! And he SCORES!" Sirius cheered, but his voice was
drowned out by a roar from the stands. "THAT is how you play Quidditch! James, mate, that
was a work of art!"

The Gryffindor Chasers, buoyed by James' success, scored four more times in the next half
hour, while Hufflepuff scored twice. "Seventy-twenty in favour of Gryffindor," announced
Sirius, not bothering to stifle a huge yawn. He had a tendency to become loudly bored when
matches were not exciting enough. "Hufflepuff in possession — not for long, though, judging
by the angle on that Bludger…"

The Bludger whacked a Hufflepuff Chaser in the back of the head, and she dropped the
Quaffle. James dived, twisting on his broom so he was upside-down, and caught the Quaffle
as it slammed into his chest. Righting his broom, he swerved around one of the Hufflepuff
Beaters, towards Longbottom, who was waiting for him —

A flash of gold glinted in the hoop to Longbottom's left.

"Parvana!" bellowed James, throwing the Quaffle as hard as he could at the hoop to the right.

Longbottom lunged to the side, and the sudden movement made the Snitch shoot upward.
Parvana had already begun to dive, though, and she collided with the Snitch, barrelling
through the middle hoop as her fingers closed around the fluttering golden ball.
That evening, the Gryffindor common room was full to bursting with students celebrating the
victory over Hufflepuff. Crimson and gold confetti rained from the ceiling, gathering in the
folds of robes and accumulating underfoot like snow. At one end of the room, a table was set
up with food and drinks — mostly butterbeer, though a few scattered bottles smelled of
something stronger. Sally Dearborn, a sixth year and Gryffindor's resident artist, hung a
massive, enchanted poster over the fireplace, which flickered as it depicted the highlights of
the match.

James was sitting with a group by the fire, one arm draped around the back of the sofa and
the other holding a large silver goblet full of amber liquid. Taking a drink, warmth spread
from his stomach to his chest and his neck. He passed the goblet to Sirius, who was sitting at
his feet, shoulder-to-shoulder with Parvana. Sirius took a long pull from the goblet and then
whooped, jumping to his feet and pulling Parvana up with him. "Who wants to duel?" he
asked, his eyes bright. A few students cheered; some shook their heads, smiling. "Parvana,
fancy a go?"

"Sure," she said, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. "Don't cry when I steam into you, too,
though."

"Phrasing!" cried Sirius, looking elated. "Don't let McGonagall hear. What say you, James?"

"'Course I'm in."

"Don't forget about me!" said a voice at his side. Marlene had joined them, her cheeks
flushed and her short blonde hair sticking up in all directions. "Yoo-hoo," she called, waving
to a table in the corner. James' stomach flipped; Lily was sitting with a couple of friends,
clutching a mug of butterbeer.

"Come on, Lil," said Marlene. "Make us proud."

Sirius raised his eyebrows as Lily slid off her chair to join the group. "Well, well. I didn't
know you liked duelling, Evans."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." There was a mischievous light in her emerald eyes,
and James had to force himself not to stare.

In the end, it was decided that there would be a tournament, and sofas and armchairs were
shoved to the sides of the room to clear enough space for the duellers. Sirius declared himself
both referee and contestant, and announced that only fifth years and up would duel, much to
the disappointment of the younger students. This ended up being for the best; even among the
upper years, most of the students were terrible duellers. The majority of matches ended after
only a couple of hexes, although Otis Podmore pulled off a Shield Charm to general
applause, and Peter managed to Disarm Parvana in an upset that had the whole room shouting
and stamping their feet.

In the second round, Marlene faced off against Remus, and James noticed Lily biting her
nails as she watched. Marlene was quick and fierce, weaving from side to side as she fired off
hex after hex. Remus, on the other hand, parried her spells with a certain deliberateness, his
wand movements steady and sure. Finally, he found an opening and hit her with a Knockback
Jinx with such strength that Marlene was lifted off her feet. As she flew through the air,
however, she managed to cast a Stunning Spell that rendered Remus unconscious before she
slammed into the wall, and Sirius called the match a draw.

Lily and Peter went next. To James' surprise, she won handily, casting a Full-Body Bind on
Peter after he fumbled a Shield Charm.

"If I didn't know better," James mumbled to Peter, helping him off the floor, "I'd say you
threw the match on purpose."

Peter's ears reddened. "I — er — thought you might want the chance to duel her yourself. If
you win this round, that is."

James grinned. "You're a pal, you know that?" He clapped Peter on the back and stepped into
the centre of the room to face off against Sirius, who quirked an eyebrow as James pulled his
wand from the pocket of his robes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Sirius, signalling for the room to quiet down, "the final match
of the second round. Will the victor be the devilishly handsome, the most noble, the most
refined House of Black? Or will it be House Potter, the boyish firebrand who could really use
a haircut, not to mention a shag?"

"Keep talking, Black," said James, aware of Lily's eyes on him. "Time to put your Galleons
where your mouth is. Aurum Rumina!"

Sirius retched, doubling over as coins poured first from his mouth, then his ears. James fired
off his next jinx, but Sirius twirled his wand and cast a nonverbal Shield Charm, deflecting
the jinx. Protected by the strength of his Shield Charm, Sirius passed the tip of his wand over
his face, his brow furrowed in concentration. Immediately, the coins vanished, and Sirius
straightened up, grinning somewhat madly. He Vanished his Shield Charm and advanced on
James, slashing his wand through the air.

James had to roll to avoid Sirius' curse, grabbing a handful of confetti off the ground as he
did so. Coming to his feet, he tossed the confetti above his head. "Alliago!" he yelled, and the
confetti turned into tiny red and gold darts which hung motionless in the air for a moment
before accelerating towards Sirius, who dove out of the way.

Their duel continued, equal parts playful and earnest. Sirius' spells were stronger, but James
was the more clever fighter. After one of Sirius' curses grazed James' shoulder, James
retaliated by Transfiguring the rug beneath their feet into a large red net, which wrapped itself
around Sirius' legs, causing him to fall over and the wand to clatter from his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there you have it," panted Sirius as he scrambled into a sitting
position. "Having narrowly defeated the daring and able House of Black, Potter advances to
the finals, where he will face the formidable Lily Evans. Peter, if you'd be so kind as to bring
me another Firewhisky, House Black would owe you a life debt…"

"Last chance to forfeit, Evans," said James, grinning at Lily as she stepped into the middle of
the room. "I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're the prettiest witch this side of
the Black Lake."

To his surprise, Lily didn't frown or flush. Instead, she smiled and extended her hand for him
to shake.

"May the best wizard win," she said. "Or witch, as the case may be."

Sirius took a swig from the silver goblet and pressed his wand to his throat, amplifying his
voice so that he could be heard over the crowd. "Lily Evans, James Potter, are you ready?"

James nodded, his eyes fixed on Lily, who stood across the room from him. A small,
unexplainable smile still danced around her lips.

"You may draw your wands," said Sirius. "On my mark…"

James moved before Lily had a chance to react. "Calvario!" She ducked, narrowly missing
the bolt of silver light from his wand. Spinning, she brought her wand over her head and
pointed it at him with both hands. She narrowed her eyes, murmuring under her breath, and a
web of electricity streamed from the tip of her wand, reaching James, encompassing him…

"Arania Alliago!" shouted James, and the web collapsed in on itself and reformed into an
enormous, shimmering spider. Its limbs crackled with electricity as it advanced on Lily.

"Arania Recanto!" she cried, waving her wand, and the spider vanished with a crack like a
lightning bolt. She threw three more spells at James in quick succession, but in the time it had
taken her to deal with the spider, he had gotten a Shield Charm off, and all of her spells
ricocheted uselessly away. Lily swore in frustration and slashed her wand through the air like
a sword, sending a barrage of hexes towards James which did nothing more than glance off
his Shield Charm.

James grinned, making a show of putting his hands behind his head as a well-placed Jelly-
Legs Jinx cracked his Shield Charm. "By the way, Evans. Wanna go out with me?"

"In — your — dreams — " She punctuated her words with one spell after another, until
finally his Shield Charm shattered under the barrage of hexes.

"Ah, but that wasn't a 'no.'" He dodged her Trip Jinx and cast a Tickling Charm, which curved
in midair to hit Lily between the ribs. She fell to the floor, clutching her sides with laughter.
He advanced on her, and she pointed her wand at him despite her helpless giggles, her eyes
narrowed in concentration. A jet of water shot out from her wand, barrelling towards him.

Godric's teeth, he thought. Of course she was good at nonverbal spellcasting.

"Glacius," he said quickly, and the jet of water froze in midair. "Reducto."

The ice exploded, sending millions of shards flying in all directions. Lily's laughter turned
into a shriek, and she barely managed to roll out of the way. James waved his wand,
muttering an incantation, and the ice shards rose off the ground, coming together to form a
large bouquet of sculpted roses. With another flourish of his wand, the roses turned a
glistening pink.
"For a maiden most fair," he said, bowing as he offered her the icy bouquet. "Though the
colour might clash with your hair, I'm afraid."

Shakily, Lily got to her feet, still hiccuping from the Tickling Charm. "You know what your
problem is, Potter?"

"I'm too clever by half?"

"You talk too much," she said. "Langlock!"

James felt his tongue stick itself to the roof of his mouth. Spluttering, he pointed his wand at
her, trying to pronounce a hex, any hex. Maybe a Stunning Spell would work —

"Thubeby! " A pathetic shower of sparks emitted from his wand, and Lily tilted her head to
one side, amused.

James could hear the crowd's cheers — Sirius was howling with laughter — and his
shoulders sagged. He had always been shit at nonverbal spells, but maybe he could pull off
something simple. Concentrating as hard as he could, he tried to disarm her nonverbally.

Lily's wand twitched in her hand. She looked down at it and then back at him, grinning. His
heart sank as he tried to pull his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"Sev is really quite clever, isn't he?" she asked, advancing until they were nearly nose-to-
nose. They were separated only by the bouquet of roses, which was beginning to melt in his
hands. She was so close he could see a tiny speckle in her left eye. His pulse quickened even
as his thoughts slowed to a stop. She was right there —

Lily smiled angelically. She pressed her wand to his chest.

"Depulso!"

The bouquet shattered into a thousand pieces as James was thrown across the room. He
skidded into one of the couches as the crowd thundered their applause. When he staggered to
his feet, Lily was still smiling. Without saying a word, she raised her arm into the air and he
felt his wand leave his grip, flying across the room and settling effortlessly into her
outstretched hand.

Severus sat on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest as he watched Mulciber move silently
about the darkened dormitory. It was nearly midnight — almost time to meet Lucius in
Dungeon Thirteen. Mulciber cast a derisive glance at him as he pulled his robes on.

"You coming or what?"

Severus shrugged, but he picked up his wand from the bedside table and stood up, following
Mulciber out of the dormitory. Avery was waiting for them outside the Slytherin common
room.

"How were prefect rounds?" asked Mulciber, yawning loudly.

"Fine," said Avery, tucking his prefect's badge into his robes. "Loads of Gryffindors
celebrating their big Quidditch win by shagging each other behind tapestries. Not your girl,
though," he added with a glance at Severus. "Reckon she stayed in her common room like a
good little teacher's pet."

Mulciber snorted as they set off into the labyrinth-like dungeons. "Do you know where we're
going, Severus?"

"I have an idea."

"Really?" said Avery, glancing at either end of the corridor. "I don't know about you,
but my invitation said to meet in Dungeon Thirteen. Which is inconvenient, since Hogwarts
only has twelve dungeons."

"Right," said Severus sarcastically. "Lucius just happened to organise a meeting in a room
that doesn't exist."

"Lead the way, then, if you're so sure," said Mulciber, shoving Severus ahead of him. Severus
cast them both a scathing look but kept walking.

Avery began to protest once he realised where they were going. "But Dungeon Twelve is that
way! We're going in the wrong direction!"

"Did the invitation say to meet in Dungeon Twelve?" asked Severus.

"Well, no, but — "

"Then why in Salazar's name would we go to Dungeon Twelve?"

"Erm," said Avery. "Because thirteen comes after twelve?"

Severus couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes. "Thirteen comes after twelve. Brilliantly
reasoned, Avery."

"What's your great plan, then?" demanded Mulciber. "Because it looks like you're going to
lead us out of the dungeons entirely — "

"Avery," said Severus, cutting Mulciber off, "while you were rounding, did you happen to
notice the Wandering Stairs anywhere?"

"Oh!" said Avery. "Yeah, I did. It's on the third floor tonight, by the Charms corridor."

"Perfect," said Severus. They ascended the marble staircase, their footsteps echoing in the
silence. Once they reached the third floor landing, Severus heard Mulciber mutter, "Lumos,"
and a dim light illuminated the dusty corridor in front of them.

"This way," said Avery, pushing Severus aside as he approached the brass doorknob that
jutted out from the stone wall. He twisted the doorknob and the wall swung open. Avery
ushered the other two inside, as if using the Wandering Stairs had been his idea, and Severus
fought the urge to hex Avery's prefect's badge up his nose.

"Dungeon Thirteen," said Mulciber confidently. The torches on the walls dimmed for a
moment, as though the staircase was hesitating. Then the ground shook slightly as a light
appeared at the top of the stairs.

"That worked?!" exclaimed Avery. "I don't believe it!"

"I knew there was a reason we kept you around, Sev," said Mulciber, and Severus twitched.
Hearing Lily's nickname for him out of Mulciber's mouth made him want to curse something.

They reached the top of the stairs and stepped into what looked like a posh sitting room.
Everything was immaculately white with golden accents, from the ornate, ivory hearth to the
gauzy curtains that covered tall windows. A soft light seemed to be filtering in through the
windows, even though it was midnight and they were almost certainly underground. Severus
couldn't keep an expression of surprise from his face. This was Dungeon Thirteen?

Across the room, Bella was sitting primly in a high-backed white armchair, wrapped in a
baby blue silk robe and sipping a cup of tea. She smiled cheerily at Severus and waved a
pinky finger at him.

"Good show," said an appreciative voice, and Severus turned to see Lucius Malfoy standing
beside him. "I must say, I'm impressed. Whose idea was it to use the Wandering Stairs?"

"Mine," said Avery immediately.

Bella barked a laugh. "He lies, Lucius!"

Lucius raised his eyebrows. Avery grimaced and jerked his head towards Severus. "Fine, it
was his idea. But I'm the one who knew where the Stairs were!"

"An impressive insight, I'm sure," said Lucius smoothly, moving to sit beside Bella. "Please,
join us. Tea, Severus?"

Severus nodded, and Bella handed him a tiny china cup filled with emerald green tea as he
settled into the armchair beside her. The other recruits sat in similar, high-backed armchairs,
arranged in a ring. He, Mulciber and Avery were the only fifth years, but he recognised a
couple of sixth years — Wilfred Wilkes and Evan Rosier — and one tall, barrel-chested
seventh year who was one of the Beaters on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Thank you for responding to our invitation," said Lucius, taking the seat on Bella's other
side as he cast his eyes imperiously about the room. "We were expecting a few more guests,
but as they have failed to arrive by midnight, we will consider their invitation declined."
He raised a hand and a heavy bolt fell across the golden door, locking the room from the
inside. A few people looked surprised at this casual display of wandless magic, and Avery
nearly spit out his tea, but Severus remained impassive. Lucius probably had his wand up his
sleeve — or else Bella was the one who had locked the door while the others' eyes were on
Lucius.

"I would like to extend my congratulations on successfully completing your first task as an
Intent — finding your way to Dungeon Thirteen. It is said that only those who are destined
for greatness can enter its golden door. I am relieved so many of you have joined us; it
portends good things for this group of Intents."

Severus wanted to roll his eyes out of his head. Proclaiming they were special because they
found a hidden room at Hogwarts? Hogwarts was a giant castle that had been steeped in
magic for centuries. It had hundreds of hidden rooms. You had to actively bumble around
with your eyes closed to avoid running into one.

"As Intents, you are expected to form the bonds of brotherhood," continued Lucius. "This
requires spending time together. You will rise together in the mornings to exercise during the
week. You will eat meals together. You will be responsible for cleaning the Slytherin
common room, except on weekends. Once a week, you will meet as a group and Bella will
guide you through a bonding activity."

Severus wondered how much trouble he would get in if he hurled his teacup at Lucius'
impeccable robes. He had thought this meeting would be about proving his ability in the Dark
Arts, not — he gritted his teeth involuntarily — bonding activities. He had a sudden, horrible
vision of being made to paint Mulciber's nails. It was like something out of his worst
nightmares.

Bella nudged him as she stood up, bringing him out of his reverie. "Intents will also be
responsible for making a pledge to show their commitment to the brotherhood —or
sisterhood, as the case may be," she added, tossing her hair. "Pledges are limited only by your
imagination, so don't be boring. In the past, we've had Intents bring us Dark family
heirlooms, or curses from foreign magical traditions, or offerings in the form of Galleons."
She sighed dramatically, making it abundantly clear that she considered monetary donations
hopelessly pedestrian.

"The process starts on Monday, so be prepared," Lucius said, getting to his feet. "I regret that
I must be off, but I look forward to hearing reports of your progress. Bella, dear…" The two
exchanged air kisses before Lucius swept out the golden door, which unlatched itself as he
approached and clanged shut behind him.

The room filled with hushed conversation as soon as Lucius had left. Severus leaned back in
his chair, massaging his forehead with his fingertips. The Dark Lord required bonding
activities. He would have preferred torture.

Mulciber leaned over and plucked the teacup out of Severus' hands, taking a long drink from
it. "So it begins, eh, Sev?"

He definitely would have preferred torture.

During the next few days, the Intents began to establish a routine — rising together before
the rest of the castle was awake, running drills outside on the grounds, eating together, and
spending evenings studying together in Dungeon Thirteen, whose golden door began to
appear randomly throughout the dungeons whenever Severus was alone. Apparently, once
found, the room made itself difficult to lose again.

Severus was surprised to discover that he didn't actually mind spending so much time with
the other Intents. Granted, Avery would always be an annoying prat, and Mulciber continued
to remind him of an overgrown, semi-intelligent bulldog, but the other Intents were alright.

The worst part was that he no longer had time to spend with Lily. He switched tables to work
with Mulciber during Potions on Monday, something Lily was visibly hurt by, but Severus
was able to placate her after class by telling her that Mulciber had bullied him into switching.
This wasn't true, strictly speaking, but it was definitely something Mulciber was capable of,
and Lily seemed to swallow the lie without too much questioning. Severus sensed that she
didn't entirely believe him, but she was willing to pretend for their friendship's sake.

On Tuesday evening, he made the long trek from the dungeons to the Astronomy tower for
class. As he climbed the staircase to the seventh floor, his stomach gave a sudden lurch. His
foot was stuck to the stair below him. He tried to pull his leg away, but to no avail, and he
swore under his breath. He didn't remember there being a trick step on this particular
staircase —

"Alright, Snivellus?"

James Potter appeared at the top of the steps, flanked by Peter and Sirius, who was stowing
his wand in his robes.

Not a trick step, then. A Sticking Charm.

"Three on one's not your usual style, Potter," said Severus, his heartbeat quickening. Keep
talking; stall for time. "You never gang up on someone unless you have at least four on your
side. Where's Lupin run off to? Did his guilty prefect's conscience finally grow a backbone to
match?"

"He's ill, actually," said James. "Touch of the mumblemumps. He's quite disappointed to have
to miss out on this."

"Pity. Here's hoping he drops dead," snapped Severus.

"Shut it, Snape," Sirius growled. "Remus is twice the wizard you are."

Severus snorted. "Well, he's a genius compared to you. Not the brightest star in the Black
family constellation, are you? Though I shouldn't be too surprised, considering all the
inbreeding has turned your family tree into a single branch —"

Sirius pulled out his wand so quickly that Severus didn't have a chance to defend himself. A
Stinging Hex struck his cheek, and he tasted blood. At the same time, he felt a tugging
sensation as his wand left his back pocket; Peter had disarmed him.

"Cowards," said Severus, relieved that his voice didn't shake. "Hex me again, you inbred
blood traitor —"

"Oh, we will." James advanced down the steps towards Severus. "By the way… does Lily
know that her lapdog uses such nasty, prejudiced language?"

Severus spat at him, and pink saliva landed on James' shoes. "Take her name out of your
mouth."

"It's funny," continued James, as if he hadn't heard, "because she's the reason we decided to
have a chat with you. You see, she used a very clever little charm on me the other day, and we
couldn't help but wonder if it was one of your creations."

"Not to mention that hex you hit me with last Hogsmeade weekend," Sirius said. "You're
quite the inventor, aren't you?"

"Our concern," said James, coming to a halt a few steps above Severus, "is that you're in
league with the other Death Eater wannabes in your House. I think you're creating new spells
for What's-His-Name and his followers to use."

"You're wrong." Severus tried to sound disdainful. "I'm not one of them."

"Don't lie," said James. "I saw you lot yesterday, doing laps around the Quidditch pitch. And
Lily herself told me that you've been teaching curses to Mulciber. Does a de-boning spell
sound familiar?"

Severus' heart dropped through his stomach. "No — she wouldn't tell you… He made me. I
didn't —"

"Right, so that's a yes," said Sirius, rolling up his sleeves. "Anyone who would intentionally
teach Mulciber a spell like that is a Death Eater in my book. On three, then, James?"

James nodded and pointed his wand at Severus' chest. Severus braced himself for whatever
was sure to come. He would not let these cretins have the satisfaction of seeing him afraid.

"One… two —"

"What the hell do you lot think you're doing?"

Severus' heart, formerly somewhere around his navel, returned to his chest with several
skipped beats. Mulciber and Avery were standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Duelling in the corridor, Potter, Black?" asked Avery as he and Mulciber climbed the stairs
to join Severus. "Pettigrew, why are you holding two wands?"
Mulciber narrowed his eyes. "Not duelling, Edmund," he grunted. "These brave Gryffindors
are attacking a defenceless student."

"Bullying, then," said Avery, shaking his head. "My, my, I can't imagine Professor
McGonagall will be very happy to hear about this. D'you think she'll settle for taking points,
or will you lot end up in a round of detentions as well?"

"Piss off, Avery," said Sirius, but he and James backed away. Peter, looking somewhat
sheepish, handed Severus his wand back, and the three Gryffindor boys took off.

Severus glanced at Mulciber and Avery. "Er — thanks. You didn't have to do that, though…"

"Rubbish," said Avery. "You're one of us now, remember? We're in this together."

"Did they hurt you?" asked Mulciber.

Severus touched his cheek and winced. "Stinging Hex, nothing serious. I think they used a
Permanent Sticking Charm to fix me to the stairs, though…"

"Oh, that's a breeze to get rid of," said Avery. "They're not as durable as their name makes
them seem." He pointed his wand at Severus' foot. "Decollisa."

Severus raised his eyebrows as he bent to rub his ankle. "I'll have to remember that one."

Avery smiled. "Don't spread it around. That particular counter-charm's a bit of a family
secret. Consider it payment for your de-boning spell, yeah?"

"We better get a move on," announced Mulciber, checking his watch, which was inlaid with
tiny, pearlescent teeth. "Sunset's in five, and Professor Vega won't appreciate if we miss
Jupiter's rising."

They made it to the top of the Astronomy tower just as Professor Vega was shutting the door.
Severus headed towards the corner where he usually worked, alone, but Mulciber stopped
him.

"Sit with us, Sev. We don't bite." He flashed his yellow teeth in a smile.

Severus hesitated, but only for a moment. Nodding, he followed Mulciber to the other side of
the tower, where Avery was pulling out his star chart.

As Severus began to set up his telescope, he glanced past the parapet, towards the grounds.
The view was different on this side of the Astronomy tower; he could see the Forbidden
Forest and the Whomping Willow. Its thick, gnarled branches hung motionless, not even
swaying in the breeze.

Severus paused. The Whomping Willow never stopped moving. That was the whole point.
He swung his telescope downwards, twisting the knobs to get a better look at the tree.

Two figures, one of them supporting the other, were moving slowly towards the trunk of the
Whomping Willow. The taller one was wearing white robes — Madam Pomfrey? And the
other, smaller one —

Severus' breath caught in his throat.

The two lowered themselves into what appeared to be a hole at the base of the tree. As soon
as they did so, the branches began to move again, swaying with increasing violence.

Severus slowly raised his head from the telescope. There was no doubt in his mind about who
the smaller figure had been.

Remus Lupin was sick, indeed.

 Moony's Magical Malady

That night, Severus lay awake in bed longer than he should have, head spinning as he tried to
wrap his mind around what he had seen during Astronomy. He was certain that Remus Lupin
had been one of the two people to enter the passage under the Whomping Willow. But hadn't
James Potter told him Remus was ill? James was a liar, obviously, but there could have been
a grain of truth to what he had said. Severus had seen Madam Pomfrey at the base of the
Willow as well, after all.

In the end, Severus decided to ask Lily for her opinion. She was in Gryffindor; perhaps she
had some insight into Remus' behaviour. Satisfied, he closed his eyes and spent the night's
few remaining hours in comfortable, dreamless sleep.

Finding Lily the following day turned out to be more difficult than he had anticipated. It took
some doing to ditch Mulciber, who wanted Severus to complete his Potions homework for
him, and even after all that effort, Lily wasn't in any of their usual meeting spots. Evidently,
she was no longer waiting for him to spend time with her. His stomach twisted uncomfortably
at the thought.

By the time he finally spotted her on the sixth floor, the afternoon free period was nearly
over. Her robes rustled against her ankles as she strode towards Professor Slughorn's office.
Severus caught her by the arm and she turned, her green eyes widening in surprise.

"Sev?"

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said.

Her eyebrows raised, joining her eyes in disbelief. "Really?"

"Really."

"And here I thought you'd forgotten about me again," she said. Her tone was light, but
Severus could hear the hurt lingering beneath her words.

"Impossible," he said. "I could never forget about you. But I understand if you're angry — I
would be, too, if I was you."

Lily tilted her head, thoughtful. "I'm not angry, really. It's more… God, Sev, I'm worried
about you. There's some nasty rumours about that group of Slytherins you've been hanging
around, did you know that? I mean, they say Mulciber —"

"That's not my choice," said Severus quickly. "Not Mulciber, at least. I told you, he's been
making me do his homework for him, but we're not friends. I promise." He stared intently at
her, trying to convince her of his sincerity, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I just don't want you ending up like them."

"Never," he said. "Though if I grow about three feet and start speaking in grunts, you'll know
Mulciber's rubbing off on me."

The worried line between Lily's brows relaxed as she gave him a small smile. "You think the
rumours are true that he's part troll?"

"It's hardly a rumour at this point," said Severus. "Editing the excrement he calls an essay has
taught me that there really is no limit to human suffering."

Lily's laugh was bright and genuine. "Stop it, you're too much!"

"It's the truth. A part of me dies every time I come across another one of his hideously
misspelt words. I think my lifespan's been shortened by half already."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Has anyone ever told you you're a drama queen?"

Severus shrugged. "There's a certain red-haired girl who says something similar whenever I
make a particularly astute observation…"

"She sounds wise," said Lily. "You should listen to her." She started down the corridor,
gesturing to indicate that he should follow.

"Where are we going?" he asked, hurrying to keep up with her.

"Sluggy's office," said Lily. "I've got a question about my independent study."

"Does this mean I get to find out what you're brewing?"

"Maybe. If your Potions knowledge is good enough to read between the lines."

"I taught you everything you know about Potions."

She jostled him with her shoulder, pushing him into the wall. "You taught me everything I
know about everything."

"Exactly. I'm sure I can figure out whatever it is you're making."

"I wouldn't be so confident," she said. "I believe, in this case, the student has surpassed the
master."

"You wish. You stand on the shoulders of giants."

"You're calling yourself a giant now?" she asked. "They're only one degree removed from
trolls, you know. You're sure Mulciber hasn't rubbed off on you?"

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but her emerald eyes sparkled with humour as she
grinned at him.

The door to Professor Slughorn's office swung open before they could knock; evidently, the
Potions professor had been expecting them. He was reclined comfortably behind his desk, a
box of half-eaten bonbons wrapped in gold foil balanced on his considerable stomach.

"Lily Evans!" cried Professor Slughorn, popping a chocolate into his mouth. "To what do I
owe the pleasure? Ah, and I see you've brought, er, Silverus along with you."

Severus resisted the impulse to hurl Slughorn's box of bonbons at the wall.

"I had a question about my independent study, Professor," said Lily. Professor Slughorn's
eyes immediately flickered to Severus, and she hastened to add, "He doesn't know anything
about it, sir. I've kept it secret like you told me to."

"Very prudent of you, my dear girl." Professor Slughorn straightened, and the box of
chocolates tumbled off his waistcoat and onto the desk. "Very Slytherin of you, I should say.
Bonbon?"

"Ooh, yes, please." Lily took the box off the desk and picked through the remaining
chocolates. "And Slytherins aren't the only ones who can keep their mouths shut, Professor.
Want one, Sev?"

Severus shook his head. He wished Professor Slughorn would stop looking at him with such
suspicion. Despite Severus' obvious skill in Potions — and despite being in Slytherin —
Slughorn had never had much time for him, preferring students who were more boisterous or
better connected. Severus was well aware he would never be part of the Slug Club, having all
the charisma of a dead toad. Still, the professor's indifference stung.

Professor Slughorn rubbed a hand across his mouth, considering. "I suppose no harm will
come if your friend overhears a snippet of our conversation. Can you keep a secret,
Sliverus?"

"Severus won't tell a soul." Lily's correction was gentle, but the corners of her mouth
twitched. "He's completely trustworthy. Slytherins, you know."

Professor Slughorn laughed. "Even you have to admit it, my dear girl! Nobody keeps a secret
better than my House." He settled back into his chair, still chuckling to himself. "Now, what
is your question? Ask away — I would be glad to be of assistance."

"Well, sir," she said, "the potion keeps spoiling. Correcting it with rue doesn't work, even
though that's what all the textbooks say to do. I really wanted to figure it out on my own, but
I've tried everything, and I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Professor Slughorn scratched his chin. "What time of day do you add the rue?"

"High noon, sir."

"And in what phase of the lunar cycle?"

"Always within three days of the new moon."

Slughorn nodded approvingly. "Do you handle the rue with your bare hands?"
"Never, sir. I always use gloves."

Professor Slughorn raised his eyebrows. "Dragon-hide gloves?"

Lily blushed, and Severus suddenly realised what the problem was. "Actually, sir," she said,
"I've been using gardening gloves that my mum lent me. They're made from cowhide, which
is standard for Muggles…"

Professor Slughorn began to chuckle, his belly shaking. "Muggle gloves! From cowhide! Lily
Evans, whatever are we going to do with you? Servelus, do you happen to know where Lily
went wrong?"

Severus gritted his teeth. He wanted to curse Slughorn for both the mispronunciation of his
name and the way he laughed at Lily's ignorance. "Rue is a non-magical ingredient, sir," he
said flatly. "As such, it should always be handled with dragon-hide gloves. The oils from the
gloves infuse the rue with trace magical elements, allowing it to blend with the other
ingredients in the potion."

Lily looked shocked. "But that's — that's not in any of our Potions texts! Why didn't I ever
hear — why didn't anyone tell me about that?"

"But it's common knowledge, my dear!" said Professor Slughorn. "Why else do you suppose
we require dragon-hide gloves starting in year four?"

"I don't know," said Lily, putting her hands on her hips. "Because that's just what wizards
use?"

Professor Slughorn's bushy moustache quivered with the force of his laughter. "Ah, Lily
Evans, you never cease to amaze me! Even after years at Hogwarts, there are still gaps in
your knowledge, eh? Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, what with your heritage…
it makes me wonder what you could achieve, if you hadn't been raised by Muggles…"

Lily flushed crimson from her neck to her hairline. Severus wished he could sink into the
plush carpet and disappear.

"Come on, Lily," muttered Severus as she opened her mouth to respond to Professor
Slughorn. "You got your answer, let's just go…"

As soon as they were out of Slughorn's office, Lily exploded with anger. "What I could
achieve if I hadn't been raised by Muggles?! That's not — he's got no right —"

"Well, he isn't a complete waste of space," said Severus. "At least now you know —"

"— What everybody else knows except me, apparently!" she said, rounding on him. "You
knew, too, don't deny it!"

Severus grimaced. "It's one of those things —"

"Why didn't you say something one of the hundreds of times we've had Potions together?
When you saw me using those gloves?"
Somehow, Severus didn't think it would diffuse the situation to tell Lily that he thought it was
cute she used her mum's old Muggle gloves to brew potions. "It's never really mattered
before, but if you're making a N.E.W.T.-level potion —"

"Which I bet you still haven't figured out —"

"I have a guess." Slughorn had let enough slip that Severus had a decent idea about what she
was making.

Lily crossed her arms. "Let's hear it, then."

"Well, it's obviously a very sensitive potion if you have to take into account the phases of the
moon," he said. "Judging by the way Slughorn wants you to keep it secret, it's probably
something dangerous or valuable. Which leaves us with a few options." He began to tick
them off on his fingers. "Amortentia. Polyjuice. Felix Felicis. Wyrmwine and the Drink of
Despair are possibilities, but I can't see you agreeing to brew Dark potions. None of these
uses rue except Felix and Wyrmwine, and of the two, Felix is more your style. It is Felix
Felicis, isn't it?"

A glance at Lily's face told him he was right. "I can't believe you guessed," she said,
deflating. "Slughorn did want me to keep it a secret, but I also… I also wanted it to be a
surprise. I thought maybe after our O.W.L.s, we could, you know, try a little…"

The thought of taking Felix Felicis with Lily made Severus' heart run laps inside his chest. A
lucky day, a perfect day… Perhaps that would be exactly the push they needed… Perhaps
there was a chance she felt the same…

Any response he gave would betray the turn his thoughts had taken, so he decided to change
the subject. "I've been meaning to ask you something. You know Lupin? Remus Lupin?"

"Of course, he's in my year." Lily looked suddenly apprehensive. "Is this about Potter and
Black? What they did yesterday?"

Severus flinched. "You know about what they did yesterday?"

Lily smiled sadly. "Sev. You've got a welt the size of a Galleon on your cheek."

Severus touched his face, frowning. He didn't make a habit of looking in the mirror. "Ah.
Well, this is something separate. Sort of." He told her what James had said about Remus
being ill, and what he had seen from the Astronomy tower.

When he finished, Lily's delicate brows were furrowed. "Well, whatever it is, I wouldn't
worry about it," she said, shrugging.

Severus stared at her. "But they froze the Whomping Willow. Why would Lupin need to do
that?" A bolt of inspiration struck him. "You do prefect rounds with him, don't you? Are there
times when he doesn't show up?"

Lily shook her head, but she wouldn't meet his eye. "I mean, he's absent once in a while, but
—"
"Did you patrol last night? Was he absent then?"

"I… look, his mother's ill, alright?"

"So it's his mother, now? Does she live under the Whomping Willow?"

"I'm not going to talk to you if you're going to be like this," said Lily. "You don't need to be
getting mixed up with Potter and his friends."

"Who said anything about Potter? Is he in on it, too?"

She stamped her foot in frustration. "Sev, you are being impossible!" She adjusted her bag on
her shoulder and picked up her pace, not waiting for him to catch up. Her dark red hair swung
behind her as she rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

Severus watched her leave, grim but satisfied. One thing was certain: whatever was wrong
with Remus Lupin, Lily knew about it, and she didn't want him to find out.

"Ready, you lot?" asked James, standing on his bed and shaking his Invisibility Cloak
impatiently.

"Born ready." Sirius snatched the Cloak out of James' hands and threw it around himself.
"I've been practising, and I make a very good ghoul. You ought to hear me scream."

"That was you, then, in the loo?" said Remus as he ducked under the Cloak. "Because the
noises you were making reminded me of a lot of things, but a ghoul wasn't one of them."

"You put Moaning Myrtle to shame," agreed Peter, joining Remus and Sirius.

James drew the Cloak around the four of them, checking to make sure their feet weren't
visible. "Alright, Operation: Haunted House is a go."

Hidden by the Cloak, they crept downstairs, through the Gryffindor dormitory — James
spotted Lily in the corner with a group of students, playing some sort of Muggle board game
that involved a lot of many-sided dice — and out the portrait hole. They narrowly avoided a
pair of Hufflepuff prefects in the Entrance Hall, then slipped out the great oak doors.

A blast of bitterly cold night air greeted them, whipping the Cloak around their legs, and
Sirius let out a loud moan.

"Shut it, Banshee Black," said Peter, laughing. "Do you want us to get caught?"

"I'm just giving Hogwarts a taste of what a good ghoul I am," said Sirius. "I'm waiting until
we reach the Shack to really let loose."
"Merlin help the unsuspecting inhabitants of Hogsmeade," said Remus. "It's bad enough they
have to listen to the howls of an actual monster every month…"

Nobody laughed.

"You lot are so P.C.," said Remus. "That was a joke."

"You should try being funny next time," offered Peter. "It might help."

"The full was that bad, eh, Moony?" said James, guiding them towards the Whomping
Willow.

Remus tried to shrug, but couldn't quite manage it, sandwiched as he was between Sirius and
Peter. "Nothing too out of the ordinary. Got a scratch on my embarrassing bits. It wouldn't
stop bleeding, so I had to show Madam Pomfrey. Loads of fun, that was."

"I'll have to remember that one," said James. "Poppy is a ten."

Sirius snorted. "Poppy is a seven-point-five on a good day. I'm a ten."

"Yeah," said James, "But I'm not trying to get you to look at my embarrassing bits, am I?"

"So you agree I'm a ten."

"I agree you're a self-centred git —"

"Quiet!" Peter whispered suddenly, and the group froze. "I heard something. Footsteps."

The four boys turned as one to look behind them. "Nobody there," said Sirius. "Probably
Hagrid —"

"Well, there's an easy way to tell for sure," said Remus, drawing his wand. "Homenum
Revelio."

The spell was as blinding as daylight as it streaked towards the Forbidden Forest. At the edge
of the trees, the jet of light unfolded like a shimmering blanket over a slouched, skinny
figure, then faded into darkness.

Sirius was out from under the Cloak before James could stop him, striding towards the figure
with his wand out. James whipped off the Invisibility Cloak and flung it to the ground,
following him.

"Stupefy!" cried Sirius, and a burst of red light struck the trees. "Where'd he go, that slimy
sneak —"

"Sirius, don't," said Remus, jogging to keep up. "It's past curfew, don't draw attention —"

"He's gotta be Disillusioned or something," said Peter, looking around wildly. "Do that spell
again, Remus…"
But James was way ahead of him. "Homenum Revelio," he said, casting the spell as quickly
as he could. "Homenum Revelio, Homenum Revelio, Homenum Revelio…"

"You really need to learn how to cast non-verbally, mate," said Sirius. He broke into a sprint
as James' spells illuminated the figure like gobs of glowing paint. Whoever it was had a large
lead and was heading towards the castle; the oak doors opened slightly and slammed shut just
as Sirius reached the bottom of the stone steps.

Panting, Sirius sat down on the steps, waiting for the others to join him. James reached him
first and threw the Invisibility Cloak around their shoulders. Peter made it to the steps next
and promptly disappeared under the Cloak, while Remus waited patiently by the Whomping
Willow for the group to join him once more.

"I think that was Snape," said Remus once James had draped the Cloak around him.

"You don't say," muttered Sirius, waving his wand at a stick laying on the ground. The stick
hovered in the air until Sirius flicked his wand, sending it to touch a knot at the base of the
Whomping Willow. Immediately, the tree's thrashing branches stilled, and the four boys crept
towards the hole that lay hidden between the roots.

"Was he following us?" asked Peter, sliding into the tunnel.

"That's what it looked like," said Sirius as he followed Peter down the hole. Turning, he
extended an arm towards Remus, who pretended not to notice as he lowered himself gingerly
inside.

"D'you think he suspects…?" Peter left the question dangling in the air.

James folded the Invisibility Cloak over his arm and jumped into the tunnel, nearly knocking
Sirius over. "Snivellus doesn't know anything. There's no way."

"But we just had a full moon." Remus' forehead creased with worry. "He could have noticed I
was missing — maybe Madam Pomfrey said something —"

"Poppy's not an idiot, she wouldn't do something like that," said James.

Sirius grunted his agreement as they made their way to the Shrieking Shack. The tunnel was
so low that they had to bend nearly double to avoid scraping their backs.

"We should be more careful from now on," said Remus as they reached the trapdoor at the
end of the tunnel. "Especially if Snivellus has decided to play detective."

"Agreed." James hoisted himself out of the hole and into the Shrieking Shack. The others
followed suit, dusting off their knees and surveying the decrepit room. "And Moony, if he
gives you any trouble — if he even looks at you wrong — you tell us, and we'll take care of
it."

"Banshee Black will lure him to an untimely demise," said Sirius, cupping his hands to his
mouth and letting out a loud, suggestive moan that rose into a bloodcurdling scream.
"That's very kind of Banshee Black." Remus tapped his wand against a chair. Immediately,
thick black smoke poured from his wand, filling the room and leaking through the boarded-
up window into the air outside.

"I live to please," said Sirius. He touched his wand to his throat to amplify his voice and let
out another long, vulgar moan. Peter whooped with laughter, banging his fists against the
walls, and Sirius stopped moaning long enough to pull a bottle from his robes. He took
several gulps and passed it to Remus.

"Excellent start," said James, his eyes gleaming as he pulled out his own wand. "Now, show
me why they call this the most haunted house in Britain."

That night, the screams coming from the Shack were loud enough to wake all of Hogsmeade,
often accompanied by bangs and flashes of light. At one point, the house shook violently
from top to bottom, knocking tiles off the roof and into the decrepit garden. By morning,
though, the Shack stood still and silent. And if anyone noticed at breakfast that the fifth-year
Gryffindor boys looked a little worse for the wear, nobody said a word.

Lily was listening intently to Professor Walog's Arithmancy lecture when something nudged
at her foot. She startled, dropping her quill in surprise. She glanced down; a tiny, origami dog
was pressing its paper paws against her ankle, wagging its tail excitedly. As she bent to pick
up her quill, she scooped up the origami creature, placing it carefully in her lap. With one eye
on Professor Walog, she unfolded it, hoping the Arithmancy professor wouldn't notice.

Meet me in Dungeon Six after lunch, read the parchment in Severus' cramped, spiky
handwriting. Overheard something important. Need your opinion.

She scribbled a quick response, cupping her hand around the parchment. Please tell me this
isn't about Potter and his mates. She tapped the note with her wand, and it folded itself into a
paper cat. It stretched lazily, then jumped off her lap and strolled towards the back of the
room.

A reply came in the form of a tiny eagle that beat its wings against her shins. Just come, will
you? I'll be waiting.

After Arithmancy, she ate lunch with Marlene, who was bemoaning the E she had gotten on
her latest essay for Muggle Studies ("How was I supposed to know dirigibles aren't a
common means of Muggle transportation? Lily, you're certain you've never ridden in one?").
Across the hall, Severus was trying to catch Lily's eye from the Slytherin table, but she was
determined not to look at him.

Against her better judgement, she excused herself from lunch early, leaving Marlene to
debate with Mary whether a dirigible was the same thing as a hot air balloon. Severus had
already left the Great Hall and, true to his word, was waiting for her in Dungeon Six when
she arrived.

"Alright, let's hear it," said Lily, pulling the door shut behind her. Dungeon Six was covered
from floor to ceiling in mirrors of varying shapes and sizes, reflecting light in all directions.
The effect was dazzling and always made her feel slightly off-balance.

Severus was shuffling from foot to foot with excitement. Whatever he had overheard, he was
dying to talk about it. "They snuck out last night."

"Who's 'they'?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Lupin! With Potter and his other mates. They've got an Invisibility Cloak, by the way. I'd bet
you anything that's how they get away with everything they do, you might want to tell
McGonagall —"

She sighed. "Look, Sev —"

"Lily, please listen to me," he said. "Judge me later, if you must. But I really need to talk
about this with someone."

Lily chewed her lip as she regarded her oldest, dearest, and most misanthropic friend. It
wasn't like Severus to be so forthcoming. And it really wasn't like him to say 'please'.

"Fine," she said, and Severus stopped squirming like there were Doxies down his robes. "So
they snuck out, big deal."

"Right," he said eagerly. "And I heard Lupin talking about the howls of a monster, and he
mentioned something that only happens once a month, and then Potter said something about
a 'full' —"

Lily crossed her arms more tightly, squeezing her fingers against her ribs. "So?"

"Don't you see?" said Severus. "The howls of a monster? Interesting word choice, right? And
'full', I think that's short for 'full moon', which is something that happens once a month —"

"We should probably head to Potions," interrupted Lily. She motioned to her watch.

"Why don't you want to talk about this with me?" said Severus, catching her wrist. She jerked
her arm away.

"I just don't think this is good for you, this new obsession with Potter and his mates —"

"Lupin is a werewolf!" he hissed.

Lily blinked.

"Right," she said slowly, drawing out the word to give herself time to think. "First off, I think
that's really unlikely."
"But it makes sense!" said Severus. "What other monster do you know that's associated with
the full moon? That howls?"

"Are you sure it wasn't some weird inside joke between Potter and his mates?"

"It wasn't a joke," said Severus. "I'm certain of it. I checked my Astronomy charts and it was
a full moon the night I saw him at the Whomping Willow."

"You mean you saw someone you thought might be him —"

"Why won't you acknowledge what I'm saying? Have you known?"

"Known what?" she snapped. "That he falls ill frequently? Sure. But I highly doubt it's
because he's secretly a werewolf, Sev. Aren't they supposed to be really dangerous? How
would Dumbledore allow him near Hogwarts? Near children?"

"I don't know." Severus tucked a lank strand of hair behind his ears. "But you have to admit
what I heard was suspicious."

"Sure, but Potter and his mates say mad stuff all the time," she said. "You'd have to be mad
yourself to take any of it seriously."

"I guess." Severus sounded unconvinced.

"Besides," said Lily, feeling suddenly inspired, "This is Remus Lupin we're talking about.
He's a prefect, for God's sake. I always thought werewolves were a little more, I dunno,
savage?"

Severus frowned. "You might have a point," he said. "Lupin doesn't look the way I'd expect
him to. Will you let me know if you hear anything else suspicious? Since he's in your
House…"

"I'll do no such thing." She opened the door to indicate that their conversation was over. "I'm
not about to go snooping in the business of other people, and I suggest you do the same. I
mean, he's friends with Potter and Black, Sev. Do you really want to give them a reason to
target you?"

Severus grunted in response, but he followed her out of Dungeon Six. When they reached the
Potions classroom, he took a seat beside Mulciber, and Lily breathed a sigh of relief. She
needed space, and Mulciber was evidently still forcing Severus to do his work for him.

Remus walked into the classroom a few minutes later, flanked by his mates. Lily had to will
herself not to stare; she couldn't help but wonder if Severus had figured out something he
shouldn't have.
On Saturday evening, Severus met with the other Intents in Dungeon Thirteen for their first
— he cringed inwardly — bonding activity. The past week had gone more smoothly than he
had anticipated, but even so, he had no desire to get to know Avery and Mulciber on a deeper
level.

As soon as he stepped into Dungeon Thirteen, however, he realised he needn't have worried.
The white, high-backed armchairs were stacked in the corners of the room, leaving a large
empty space in the middle. Bella stood before them, twirling her wand between her fingers.

"Sit," she ordered, pointing at the floor. Severus took a seat between Evan Rosier and Wilfred
Wilkes, the two sixth year Intents. Rabastan Lestrange, the seventh year Slytherin beater, was
sitting comfortably close to Bella, as if he wasn't intimidated by her at all.

"I hope you have had a pleasant first week as Intents," Bella began, her focus on the wand
spinning in her hands. "Spending time together and performing acts of service for Slytherin
House builds bonds and improves character. Tonight, however, we will be doing something
entirely different. Who among you has performed an Unforgivable Curse?"

Severus glanced at the others, who looked as befuddled as he was.

Bella shook her head, but she didn't seem surprised. "And how, exactly, do you expect to
serve the Dark Lord if you have not mastered the most important tools in a Death Eater's
arsenal?"

Severus raised his eyebrows. He was no duelling expert, but even he knew it was poor form
to rely too much on a particular spell — or set of spells — when fighting. Any enemy with a
modicum of intelligence would learn to see it coming and prepare accordingly. Still, he
reasoned, the Unforgivables were as good a way as any to fill Mulciber's limited brain space,
so he couldn't fault Bella for teaching them those curses first.

Wilkes raised a hand. "Who will we be cursing, Bella? I can think of a few people I'd like to
put in their place —"

Bella barked a laugh, startling Severus. "Oh, no," she tutted, giggling a little. "No, Wilfred,
you misunderstand. I'm not giving you free rein to terrorise the castle. No, you will learn to
perform these curses by practising on one another."

Severus' heartbeat quickened. Perform the Unforgivables? On each other? Even Wilkes and
Rosier looked astonished; only Mulciber was wearing an ear-splitting grin.

"But we've spent all week together," said Lestrange. "We've gotten to know each other. How
can we be expected to curse one another?"

Bella's grin widened, her square, white teeth sparkling with light from the chandelier above.
"Rabastan, my darling," she said, "that is the entire point."

She then paired them off: Avery with Wilkes, Lestrange with Rosier, and Severus,
unfortunately, with Mulciber.
"Imperius first," ordered Bella, surveying the room haughtily. "It's the easiest one to master.
As with all the Unforgivables, simply point your wand, say the words, and mean it."

Mulciber levelled his wand at Severus's chest, and Severus screwed his eyes shut. He was
determined to leave Dungeon Thirteen with his dignity intact, no matter what humiliations
Mulciber forced on him.

"Imperio," said Mulciber. Nothing happened.

Severus opened one eye, and Bella laughed.

"Augustus Mulciber the Third!" she cried. "You've been making friends with little Severus!
Who would have thought? You'll have to try harder than that if you want to become a
Follower! Severus, show him how it's done."

Her confident tone made Severus clench his jaw so hard he nearly cracked a molar. If he
didn't pull off the Imperius curse on the first try, he'd surely suffer her displeasure, in
whatever macabre form it took. Luckily, he'd spent the past month itching to curse someone.
And who better than Mulciber? Mulciber may have been more friendly to him this past week,
but a Wampus cat didn't change its spots.

Severus drew his wand and pointed it at Mulciber. He imagined magic flowing in an
unbroken stream down his arm, through his wand, and into Mulciber. The boy in front of him
was simply an extension of his being, like a puppet or an extra hand. "Imperio."

Mulciber's expression went slack. He didn't move, and barely seemed to breathe; it was as if
he needed Severus' permission to continue to circulate oxygen.

Give me your wand. The thought had barely formed in Severus' mind before Mulciber
stepped forward, proffering his wand.

Severus pocketed it. Mulciber was still in a stupor, like he was sleepwalking. A bit of drool
slid down the corner of his mouth. Wipe that idiotic look off your face.

Immediately, Mulciber took on a sharp, keen expression. On anyone else it would have been
convincing, but the glint in Mulciber's eyes didn't match the rest of his broad, brutish face.

Better, at least. thought Severus. Now give me your robes.

Immediately, Mulciber pulled his robes over his head and handed them over. Bella shrieked
with laughter at the sight of him standing stupidly in an undershirt and pants.

"Well done, Severus!" she said, clapping her hands. "Very, very good! His expression is a
little unnatural, of course, but there will be plenty of opportunities to fine-tune that later. I'm
proud of you!"

Severus gave a short nod, acknowledging her praise, and lifted the Imperius Curse on
Mulciber. Mulciber frowned as he looked down at himself, standing in his pants.
"My apologies," said Severus, not bothering to sound apologetic. He offered Mulciber his
robes. "It was the only thing I could think of."

Mulciber shrugged, seemingly unembarrassed at being nearly naked. "Honestly, I probably

would have done the same," he said. "My turn, then. Imperio."

Severus didn't have time to collect himself. He felt like he was floating, like he'd taken
medication that made his brain go fuzzy… he had a sudden urge to do a handstand, but he
was able to resist the impulse.

Dimly, as if underwater, Bella's voice reached him. She was telling Mulciber that mere
revenge would not generate an effective Unforgivable Curse. Then she dropped her voice so
that Severus couldn't hear, whispering something in Mulciber's ear. Mulciber's eyes
narrowed.

Cut your hair off, said a voice in Severus' head. Cut your hair off…

But he didn't have a knife to cut with. Severus patted the pockets of his robes frantically,
looking for something sharp to use. Distantly, he heard Bella laugh —

Suddenly, his brain was his own once more.

"Nice try, Mulciber!" crowed Bella. "But your own thoughts influenced him too much. You
imagined him using a knife, did you not? The Imperius needs a lighter touch. Severus would
have used his wand to curse his hair off, had his mind not been filled with your ideas."

And with that, the training continued until they could all cast a rudimentary Imperius curse.
Avery made Wilkes kiss Bella on the cheek, and Lestrange forced Rosier to loudly confess an
embarrassing fantasy.

Bella had them switch partners for the Cruciatus Curse, which proved to be substantially
more difficult than the Imperius. None of the Intents were able to harm the others for more
than a few seconds at a time, and even then Severus found the pain underwhelming. He'd had
paper cuts that stung worse than Wilkes' Cruciatus Curse.

After watching them struggle for fifteen minutes, Bella let out an exaggerated sigh and raised
her hand for them to stop. "I am disappointed," she said. "You must not let the bonds of
brotherhood impede you from doing what needs to be done. Sentimentality is weakness."

"I thought you wanted us to care for one another," said Lestrange, who seemed to be the most
willing to challenge Bella. Perhaps being the oldest Intent made him bolder — or perhaps the
rumours were true that Bella was romantically involved with his older brother.

Or both, thought Severus.

Bella cocked her head like an owl, regarding Lestrange as though he had just said something
exceedingly impolite. When she spoke, her words were icy. "I want to form Intents who are
committed to one another and to the cause. Commitment is different from caring. It is
different from love. A brother who allows his emotions to impede his commitment is a
useless brother and a waste of my time. Do I make myself clear?"

They nodded.

"Good." Bella's eyes narrowed. "Severus. Show the others what it means to be committed."

Not again. He drew his wand and turned towards Wilkes, but Bella stopped him.

"No, Severus," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "I want you to curse me."

Severus' grip tightened on his wand. He didn't like being singled out like this. If he couldn't
torture Wilkes, who he hardly knew, how could he perform the Cruciatus on Bella, who had
gone out of her way to include him as an Intent?

Bella smiled sweetly at him, as if she knew exactly what was going through his mind.
Severus shook his head to clear his thoughts. Surely she had picked him because she knew he
held her in high regard. She expected him to overcome his emotions. To demonstrate
commitment.

Severus raised his wand, not daring to think of what would happen if he failed to meet her
expectations. He pictured her writhing on the floor, how good it would feel to do what the
others couldn't. How good it would feel to hurt her.

"Crucio," he said, and a jolt of electricity ran down his arm.

Bella screamed. The curse lifted her off her feet and she twisted helplessly in the air, her back
bending at unnatural angles. She hit the floor hard, and her body contorted as she gagged,
inhuman noises coming from her throat.

After ten seconds, Severus lowered his wand. He stared down at Bella, who lay in a heap on
the ground. A low noise came from her throat, growing louder as she staggered to her feet.
His heart thumped in his chest. She was laughing.

"You see?" Bella threw out her arms as she spun to face the other Intents. "Severus follows
my commands. He trusts that I know what is good for him. He will be rewarded beyond his
wildest dreams!"

Mulciber was next to cast the Cruciatus Curse to Bella's satisfaction, followed by Lestrange.
After that, they moved on to the Killing Curse, which they practised first on cockroaches,
then on rats, and then on six handsome owls that Bella brought down from the Owlery.
Mulciber, in particular, was disappointed that they wouldn't practise the Killing Curse on
actual humans, but Bella assured him it was no different than using animals. Severus felt a
pang of shame as he killed his owl, a great tawny bird with intelligent yellow eyes. It had to
be done, of course, but it was such a waste.

After they Vanished the remains of the animals, Bella dismissed them for the night. Severus
hung back, however, under the guise of helping her return the high-backed armchairs to their
proper places.
"I told you to leave, you know," said Bella lightly, moving one particularly large sofa across
the room with a wave of her wand.

"I had a question." Severus flicked his wand at the tapestries on the walls, straightening them.
"About what I should do for my pledge."

"You're unsure? I assumed you would create a new spell for us."

"I thought about it," he admitted, "but I've stumbled upon something else. What if I told you
there was a werewolf at Hogwarts? Could I capture it and deliver it to you and Lucius as a
pledge?"

Bella laughed. "You must be joking! There's no way a werewolf could live at Hogwarts. Have
you ever met one? Some of them are Followers, and they are —" she shuddered. "They're
awful creatures. They're not human. If there was a werewolf at Hogwarts, we'd know."

"I think this one's different," Severus said. "I think it passes for human better than most."

Her lips pursed thoughtfully, considering this. "I believe you, Severus," she said at last. "And
I think catching a werewolf at Hogwarts would be a spectacular pledge. It would showcase
your talent and damage Dumbledore's reputation. Imagine, if it got out that the old dotard
was sheltering a beast among children! You would certainly capture the Dark Lord's favour
with such a pledge."

Severus felt suddenly breathless, as though he were standing at the edge of a precipice,
preparing to jump off. "I can do it," he said. "You know I have the ability."

Bella smiled and put an arm around him, drawing him close. "Out of all the Intents, you have
the most potential," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder. "That's why I used you as
an example tonight. You make me proud."

Severus merely nodded, his mouth dry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this
much physical contact with another human being. To his surprise, he didn't mind her touch.
 Trials and Transfigurations

The twenty-seventh of March was an unofficial holiday at Hogwarts: it was James Potter's
birthday, and he was notorious for throwing the wildest celebrations since the Prewett twins
were in school. This also made it Lily's least favourite day of the year, for obvious reasons.

This year, rumour had it that invitations to James' party had been hidden around the castle,
allowing anybody lucky enough to find one to attend. As a result, in the week leading up to
the party, multiple classrooms were ransacked, and every time Lily turned a corner she found
students peering hopefully into the suits of armour stationed along the corridors. Bertram
Aubrey, a Hufflepuff fifth year, even incurred a week's worth of detentions for taking apart
the Gryffindor hourglass piece by piece in search of an invitation among the rubies.

Naturally, Lily spent the week leading up to James' birthday studiously avoiding any sort of
activity that might lead to the discovery of an invitation. When walking to class, she kept her
eyes trained on her feet, and she outright refused to open any letters without Marlene
inspecting them first.

On Friday morning, Lily was groggily rummaging through her trunk when her hand brushed
something that didn't belong. It was smooth with a fine grain, flimsy between her fingers, and
she knew what it was before she'd even laid eyes on it. Nestled among the undergarments at
the bottom of her trunk was an invitation.

Her cheeks burned. Never mind that James had gotten past the protections on the girls'
dormitory — he'd gotten past the locks on her trunk! She snatched the square of parchment
up and unfolded it in her lap.

You are cordially invited to a night of debauchery and magical mischief-making in

celebration of James Potter's sixteenth birthday, the parchment read. Meet in the vegetable
patch at ten o'clock on Saturday evening. Gifts in multiples of sixteen will be accepted. Bring
Your Own Broom.

"Ooh, you found an invitation too, Lily?" asked Mary, sitting up in bed. "That makes all of
us, doesn't it?"

"I didn't find an invitation," said Lily. "That implies I made an effort. Someone put this in my
trunk. Next to my knickers."

"Oh, yeah, that was me," said Marlene with a yawn. Lily's mouth fell open, but Marlene
shrugged. "James wanted to make sure you knew you were invited."

Lily frowned at the invitation. "I'm not going."

"Rubbish, of course you are," said Marlene. "It'll be the party of the year."

"Yeah, and it's Potter's party."

"Right," said Marlene, "which means it's going to be brilliant."

"No, it means he's going to be even more annoying than usual and expect us to fall over at his
feet, just because he managed to go another year without accidentally offing himself —"

"Loads of people will be there." Parvana caught Lily's eye in the mirror she was using to
brush her long, glossy hair. "Those invitations were all over the school. It'll probably be so
crowded he won't even notice you."

Marlene snorted. "Right. Because of all the people James is likely to forget about, Lily tops
the list."

"Plus, I'm a prefect," said Lily. "I can't go. I have to set a good example."

"Remus is a prefect, too, and I bet every Galleon I own that he'll be there," said Marlene.

"Yeah," said Lily, "but he's not exactly a shining example of good behaviour, is he?"

"You know you want to go," said Mary. "It'll be a good time."

"Potter will be there."

"You're coming," said Marlene firmly. "Give him sixteen Dungbombs as a gift, if you'd like.
But you can't ditch us."

Lily knew it was a losing battle. "Fine. But if he asks me out, I'm leaving."

After prefect rounds on Saturday evening, Lily returned to her dorm, where Marlene was
waiting for her.

"Mary and Parvana already left," Marlene informed her. "How long do you need to get
ready?"

"Thirty seconds," said Lily, pulling her robes over her head.

Marlene raised an eyebrow as Lily pulled on her frumpiest jumper and jeans. "Going for
Muggle chic, are we?"

"I don't want him getting any ideas."

Marlene grinned. "Not sure how much control you have over that. Let's go."

Peter Pettigrew was waiting for them in the vegetable patch, sitting on an absurdly large
yellow squash. He nodded approvingly at Marlene, who was carrying a broom. "The party's
three miles away, due west," he said. "Fly close to the treetops and you can't miss it."

Lily climbed onto Marlene's broomstick, gripping the sides of her waist. Bile rose in the back
of her throat as soon as Marlene kicked off. She didn't think she'd ever get used to flying.
They weren't even wearing helmets.
As they soared above the Forbidden Forest, their destination came into view. Peter had been
right: there was no way to miss the enormous oak that towered above the rest of the canopy,
its branches glowing faintly with light. Marlene pushed on the handle of the broomstick, and
Lily dug her fingers into Marlene's waist as they began to descend.

They landed on a thick, gnarled bough that jutted out like a crooked finger. Lily immediately
clambered off the broomstick, feeling slightly queasy. Her head brushed against a couple of
leaves, which rustled and began to glow with a cool silver light, illuminating their
surroundings.

The wide, curved branch they were standing on sloped downwards, towards the trunk of the
tree. The trunk was massive, as big around as any of the towers at Hogwarts, and there were
windows cut into the bark, revealing a hollowed-out room inside. The oak's boughs had been
elongated and thickened to form twisting walkways, and as Lily watched, a pair of students
holding hands meandered along a far branch and disappeared behind a thick, shimmering
cluster of leaves.

Marlene let out a low whistle and reached out to touch the silver leaves above them. "This is
impressive, even for James."

Lily peered over the edge of the bough, trying to catch a glimpse of the forest floor below,
but it was so far down that she couldn't see the ground. She swallowed nervously and
followed Marlene across the branch and inside the trunk of the tree.

The interior was just as spacious as it had looked from the outside, but so many people were
crammed in that Lily wondered just how many invitations James had hidden. A gramophone
in the corner was blaring Muggle rock music so loudly that the floor pulsed with each beat,
and the walls gleamed with the same shimmering light as the leaves. A silver pine cone the
size of a chandelier hung from the ceiling, rotating slowly, its gleaming scales throwing light
in all directions. The overall effect was dazzling.

"This is amazing," said Marlene.

"We are so high up, and the only thing keeping us from plummeting to our deaths is Potter's
Transfiguration skills," replied Lily.

Marlene shrugged. "I trust him."

"I think I need a drink."

"Ask and ye shall receive," said a voice. Sirius was standing behind them, a bright yellow
drink in his hand. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he sported a garish orange-and-
yellow striped pantsuit, complete with flared bottoms and platform shoes.

"Nice outfit," said Lily, the corner of her mouth twitching. "I think I've seen similar in one of
my mum's magazines."

"Your mum has great taste," said Sirius. He winked and offered her the drink he was holding.
"My own invention. I call it Sirius' Sunrise Surprise."
Lily sniffed the drink. To her relief, it smelled like citrus and mint. "This isn't going to poison
me, is it?"

Sirius placed a hand over his heart in mock offence. "Lily 'Shrinking Violet' Evans, how dare
you accuse me of such a thing? Is it because you don't trust my drink-making abilities, or
because House Black has a long history of poisoning Muggle villagers for sport?"

"Er, the first one," she said, taking a sip. It really wasn't half bad. "Thanks for the heads up
about your family, though."

But Sirius wasn't listening; someone else had caught his attention, and he vanished into the
crowd.

"It's never a good sign when he's drunk enough to talk about the House of Black," said
Marlene, standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck above the crowd. "Reckon we should
give James our presents?"

"Might as well." Lily downed the rest of her Sunrise Surprise for courage, and her skin began
to glow a pleasant yellow colour. "Hang on," she said, examining her arms. "Did Sirius
charm…?"

"'Course he did." Marlene nodded in approval as the yellow glow shifted to pale pink. "I like
it. Pastels go well with your hair."

Lily rolled her eyes.

They approached a table at the edge of the room, which was stacked with enough presents to
nearly touch the ceiling, and Lily shook her head. "What kind of person asks for sixteen
presents each on their birthday?"

"Trust me, Evans, I'm worth it," said James, walking up to them. He wore a golden crown
inlaid with rubies, and Lily had a sneaking suspicion that if she counted the number of gems
they would total sixteen.

"Nice crown," said Marlene, smirking a little. "A Potter family heirloom?"

"Au contraire, ma amie." James took the crown off his head and twirled it around his wrist.
"You're looking at what was formerly a bird's nest."

"A bird's nest?" said Lily before she could stop herself. "But that's — that's really advanced
Transfiguration —"

"You say that like you don't think I'd be capable of such a thing," said James, sounding
offended. "It wasn't that difficult. It's not perfect, either, look…"

He held his arm out to her, the crown dangling off his wrist. Upon closer inspection, the
crown had a slightly twiggy look to it that its sheen couldn't disguise.

"All the same," said Lily begrudgingly. "I am a little impressed."

His chest swelled as though she'd just asked him to marry her. She immediately resolved to
never say anything remotely resembling a compliment to him again.

"So what did you lot get me?" asked James, putting the crown rakishly back on his head.

"Oh, mine's good." Marlene pushed the jar she was holding into his hands. "Sixteen newt's
eyes, each steeped in a different herbal extract." She lowered her voice conspiratorially.
"Supposedly some have psychoactive properties. I think a couple are poisonous, though — I
got 'em in Knockturn Alley, so…"

James laughed. "Marlene, you are a treasure. Thank you! Lily, dare I ask…?"

Lily grinned and pulled a roll of parchment from the back pocket of her jeans. "Enjoy."

James unfurled the parchment, pushing his glasses up his nose for a clearer look. "'Sixteen
Rejections for the Next Sixteen Times James Potter Asks Me Out,'" he read aloud. "'Number
one: No. Number two: Still no. Number three: Not going to happen.' Huh. Interesting.
Anyway, d'you have plans next Hogsmeade weekend?"

Lily laughed despite herself. "Refer to rejection number one, Potter."

"What's this?" Remus Lupin appeared at James' side and peered at the parchment.
"Something to deflate your head a bit, James? Lily, this is exactly the sort of demotivation he
needs. Thank you — from the bottom of my heart."

He smiled at her, but Lily's stomach twisted uncomfortably. If it was true that Remus was
what Severus said he was… and if it got out…

"I actually was hoping to see you, Remus," she said, thinking quickly. "I wanted to talk to
you about this week's patrol schedule — was hoping you'd swap with me. Shall we?"

Remus looked as if he'd rather not talk about prefect duties right at that moment, but he
followed her out of the tree trunk and across a wide branch, which dipped slightly under their
weight. Lily's stomach lurched again, and she hastened to reach the end of the bough, where a
hammock made of silver vines stretched between two smaller branches.

"Er, if we could make this quick, Lily," said Remus as he took a seat in the hammock.

"Right, yeah," said Lily distractedly, joining him in the hammock. She should have asked
Sirius for a few more Sunrise Surprises before attempting this conversation. Was there a
polite way to accuse someone of being a werewolf? Maybe she ought to ease into it. "Er, so,
did you help put this treehouse… thing... together?"

Remus nodded. "Easier than it looks, actually. A couple days of skiving off class to
Transfigure the tree, some Silencing Charms, a few anti-gravity spells for good measure…"

"I'm glad for the anti-gravity spells, at least." Lily relaxed a little, watching her feet, now
glowing orange, dangle in the air. "I've never been a big heights person. Fear of falling to my
death and all that."
Remus shrugged. "There are worse ways to go. Anyway… the patrol schedule?"

"Er, yeah," said Lily. "Actually, that was kind of a ruse to get you away from the others. I
wanted to talk to you about something."

Remus' eyebrows raised slightly. "I'm all ears."

"Great," said Lily, biting her lip. "Look, Remus, I'm not sure what's going on with you and I
don't care, because it's not my business, but... "

Remus' pleasant expression froze in place, as though someone had pointed a telly remote at
him and pressed 'pause'.

"What's going on with me?" he repeated, getting up from the hammock. "I'm not sure I know
what you mean."

"Oh yeah?" she said. Her heart was pounding in her ears. "I think you do."

Remus regarded her warily for a moment. "What is this about, Lily?"

"It's Severus." The words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush. "He thinks he knows what's
going on with you — about your illness, or your mum's illness, or whatever it is. He has a
theory —"

"A theory?" Remus' expression was one of polite interest. "I didn't think my life was
interesting enough to warrant theories. Is it very interesting, this theory of his?"

"That's not… I'm not — I don't care about his stupid theory, alright? I just wanted to let you
know —"

"But I'd like to hear it," said Remus. "We could exchange theories if you'd like. My theory is
that your dear friend Severus is a malnourished Bowtruckle masquerading as a human being.
What's his theory about me?"

"You know what? It doesn't matter," said Lily. "I was just trying to do you a favour —"

"And I appreciate that," he said, "but my curiosity's piqued now, and I simply must know
what sort of interesting ideas dear Severus has about my life —"

"Fine," she snapped, heat rising up her neck. "Why do they call you Moony?"

"Because I've got pockmarks," said Remus immediately. "You know, more craters than the
moon?"

"You're impossible," she said. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"You can tell Severus he's cracked the case." Remus feigned a yawn. "I suffer from pimples,
that scourge of adolescent boys."

"Must be terrible."
The corner of Remus' mouth twisted in an ironic smile. "Quite. Why don't we rejoin the
party?"

By the time Lily stood up from the hammock, Remus had long since reentered the
treehouse. Boys, she thought, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. Her hand grazed the
overhanging leaves, disturbing a small, metallic beetle. It clicked its wings and began to buzz
around her head.

Carefully, she picked her way back to the tree trunk, putting one foot in front of the other on
the wide bough. As she pulled open the door to the treehouse, the beetle whizzed past her ear.
Inside, it circled the room a few times, then flew upwards, landing on the glittering pine cone.
It rubbed its shiny wings together and emitted several puffs of chalky white powder that fell
onto the heads of the students below.

Lily frowned. That wasn't typical beetle behaviour.

A flash of gold caught her eye; across the room was James Potter, wearing his crown. He
frowned slightly as he watched the powder drift down from the pine cone. Then he elbowed
Sirius, who looked upward, eyes widening in alarm. Both boys made to grab their
broomsticks, which were leaning against the wall.

Lily glanced back up at the beetle. It hissed loudly and vanished with a small pop.

Then the treehouse exploded.

James had barely managed to grab his broom when the force of the blast knocked him
backwards. He collided with the wall, which buckled under the impact, and he was hurled out
of the tree, tumbling towards the forest floor below.

"ARRESTO MOMENTUM!" bellowed a voice. James' descent stopped so abruptly that his
stomach nearly came out his mouth, and he scrambled onto his broomstick.

Sirius swooped down to hover beside him. "Get the others!" he yelled, and he slashed his
wand through the air, sending more Slowing Spells into the night.

James nodded and dove towards the base of the tree as fast as his broom would allow. His
knees buckled as he slammed into the ground, but he immediately whirled, casting Slowing
Spells at the students who were still plummeting towards the forest floor.

High above him, the shimmering crown of the tree had been blown clear off. There was a
smoking hole where the treehouse had been, open to the night sky. As he watched, the hole
began to close, and the trunk stretched towards the stars, sprouting new branches. Within
seconds, the old oak had completely repaired itself. It was as if there had never been an
explosion — or a treehouse — at all.
James swore under his breath. Absently, he cast Bubblehead Charms at the students who
were sinking slowly through the air like water. Nobody was getting a concussion if he had
anything to say about it.

"James," called Remus as he fell, "what —"

A Bubblehead Charm muffled the rest of his words.

"The Fall of Troy," grunted James. "Someone's idea of a prank."

Remus landed in a large pile of wet leaves, and the Bubblehead Charm popped. "Merlin's
tits," he said, which was strong language coming from him. "What sort of lunatic would think
it was funny to watch us all fall to our deaths?"

"Oh, you wouldn't have died," sneered a voice behind them. Mulciber stepped out from
behind the trees, flanked by Severus and Avery. "Permanent disability, maybe, but pure-
bloods are resistant to the regular ways of dying. Your Mudblood friends, on the other
hand…"

"Use that word again and I'll turn your blood into terracotta," snapped Lily, striding towards
them with her wand out. To James' great relief, she was unharmed, though her jeans and
jumper were smeared with dirt, and she seemed to be glowing pink. "I'm a prefect, and I
demand you tell me what you're doing here."

"So am I, and I'd like to know the same." Remus scrambled up from the leaf pile, pointing his
wand at the group of Slytherins. He glanced at Lily, and something unspoken passed between
them that James could not decipher.

"I'm a prefect as well," said Avery, smirking. "And as we've discovered an illegal, off-
grounds party, I'm afraid we have no choice but to turn you in. What do you think
McGonagall will say when she discovers that you were endangering student lives with
experimental Transfiguration, Potter?"

"The only people endangering lives were you lot," retorted James. "Which one of you
geniuses thought it was a good idea to try and blow us all up using the Fall of Troy?"

Lily glanced at him, confused. "The Fall of Troy?"

"Also known as Untransfiguration powder," said James quickly. He wanted to throttle

Mulciber, who was openly grinning at Lily's question. "You know, the time the Greeks
Transfigured their entire army into a wooden horse? And once they were inside Troy, they
used this powder to Untransfigure themselves and won the Mycenaean War?"

"Muggles have a different version of that story," said Lily darkly. Her eyes flickered to
Severus, who was determinedly examining a spot on the ground.

There was a wet thump behind them, and James turned to see Sirius skidding through the
leaves on his broom, Peter landing rather more gracefully beside him.
"Hang on a minute," Sirius jabbed a finger at the group of Slytherins as he dragged his broom
to a stop. "Did YOU LOT do this? What the ACTUAL —"

"Old news, mate," said Remus, his wand still level with Mulciber's chest.

"You can put your wand away, Lupin," said Mulciber, sounding bored. "Unless you want to
add duelling to the growing list of infractions you've committed tonight…"

"It's five on three, dickhead." Sirius strode forward until he was nearly nose-to-nose with
Mulciber. "We could Stun you lot and leave you here as a midnight snack for the
Acromantulas. How's that sound?"

"Actually," said Mulciber, "It's seven on five, our favour. But I forgive you for not knowing
how to count."

Lily made a small squeaking noise as four more Slytherins stepped out of the shadows. James
recognised a few of them — one was Rabastan Lestrange, a Beater on Slytherin's Quidditch
team, and another was Bellatrix Black. She waved cheerily at Sirius, whose expression
darkened at the sight of her.

"We could still take you," growled Sirius, but James shot him a warning glance and he
lowered his wand.

Bella laughed. "What a good lapdog my cousin is! Does he come when he's called, as well?"

"Why don't you try it and find out?" snarled Sirius.

"Enough, Sirius," said James. They were well and truly caught. "We'll go with you," he said
to Mulciber. "But Sirius, Remus, Peter and I were the ones who threw this party. We
Transfigured the tree. Lily and the others had nothing to do with it."

Mulciber's eyes gleamed with malice. "Taking responsibility, are we, Potter?"

"Sometimes I even surprise myself," said James, tucking his wand into his robes. "Back to
the castle, then?"

The trek through the Forbidden Forest took the better part of an hour. A few of the Slytherins
stayed behind to corral the rest of the students who had attended the party, but Bella insisted
on accompanying James and the others. She walked uncomfortably close to Sirius, rubbing
shoulders with him and giggling every time he tried to shove her away. By the time they
reached McGonagall's office, Sirius looked ready to commit murder, which James was
certain would not help their case.

Professor McGonagall seemed to have been expecting them. Although it was past midnight,
she sat primly behind her desk, her hands folded and her back ramrod straight. She was still
in her tartan robes and pointed witch's hat, like she hadn't bothered going to bed yet. Either
Mulciber had tipped her off, or else she somehow knew it was James' birthday and had been
expecting trouble.
"Sit," she said, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk. "Mulciber, Avery, Snape, Miss
Black — you may go."

"Lily too," James blurted as he took a seat. Beside him, Sirius groaned.

"Miss Evans stays," said Professor McGonagall. "At least until I determine the extent of her
involvement in tonight's activities."

"But she didn't do anything!" said James. "She just came to the party!"

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Miss Evans, is this true?"

Although the Sunrise Surprise had long since worn off, Lily's face was as scarlet as her hair.
James wondered if she'd ever gotten in trouble before. "Yes, ma'am," she said, her eyes on her
feet. "I was there."

"Then I am very disappointed in you," said Professor McGonagall. "You were out after hours,
and off school grounds, no less. That shows a serious lack of judgement."

"It does, ma'am," Lily's voice quavered. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology," said Professor McGonagall stiffly. "You are both a prefect and a
young witch with a bright future. Learn from this experience, and do not repeat it."

Lily swiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "I won't, Professor."

"I am relieved to hear that," said Professor McGonagall. "I will deduct ten points from
Gryffindor, and you shall serve a detention. Does this sound fair?"

Lily's eyes were filled with tears, but James thought she'd gotten off rather easily, all things
considered. He'd lost more points than that for far smaller offences. And only one detention!
It must be her first.

Professor McGonagall's eyes softened at Lily's distress. "You may leave, Miss Evans. Get a
good night's sleep, and remember that tomorrow is a new day."

Lily nodded and picked up her bag, sniffing a little. As she pulled open the door, however,
she glanced back just enough to make eye contact with James. Her tears were gone, and her
green eyes sparkled with obvious delight as she smirked at him.

James' mouth fell open. Lily winked, her smile growing wider. Then she flounced out of the
office.

As the door swung shut, Professor McGonagall focused her attention on James and his
friends. Her expression was much more severe than it had been with Lily.

"Minnie —" started Sirius, and James kicked him.

"Thank you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "I agree that was a disrespectful form of
address. Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Er… I threw a party because it's my birthday," replied James, trying to think of a way to
frame the situation that wouldn't land him a hundred years' worth of detentions.

"The party is not the problem," said Professor McGonagall. "The problem is that you chose
to celebrate in the Forbidden Forest."

"Technically," said James, "we were above the Forbidden Forest. I don't think there are any
rules about that."

Professor McGonagall blinked. "Explain."

"We Transfigured a tree," said James.

"It was this massive old oak," added Sirius. "One of the tallest in the Forest."

"We turned it into a treehouse," said James. "I honestly wish you could have seen it. It was
brilliant."

"It really was," agreed Peter. "We hollowed out the trunk to make room inside, and we put a
spell on all the leaves so they'd turn silver if you touched them. Plus we turned a pine cone
into a disco ball — er, do you know what a disco ball is, Professor?"

"We took some safety precautions, too," said Remus. "There were anti-gravity spells around
the perimeter of the tree to support the treehouse and the people in it, in case something went
wrong. After tonight's events, you can imagine my relief that we prepared in advance."

James could have kissed Remus for playing the role of responsible prefect so perfectly.
Especially considering they hadn't put any anti-gravity spells on the treehouse.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows had travelled further and further up her forehead during
this discussion. "Can you show me?" she asked at last.

Sirius grinned and drew his wand from his pocket, pressing the tip against his temple. He
closed his eyes, and when he pulled the wand away, a thin silver thread hung from it.

Professor McGonagall made no comment on Sirius' ability to cast a nonverbal Memory

Charm. She merely slid a small stone bowl, roughly the size of an ashtray, across her desk.
Sirius tapped his wand against the bowl, dropping the memory inside.

Professor McGonagall prodded the bowl's misty contents with her wand, and a silvery,
miniature version of the old oak rose before them. Small, wispy figures on broomsticks
darted around the tree, shooting tendrils of smoke towards it. Professor McGonagall flicked
her wand, and the memory sped up: the figures zoomed around as they elongated the
branches of the canopy and created the treehouse.

"Impressive," she said at last, pushing the bowl towards Sirius, who used his wand to pick up
the memory inside. "That took a fair bit of magic. Unfortunately, as you made the poor
decision to build this treehouse in the Forbidden Forest and host a party there past curfew,
there must be consequences."
James winced. "I was afraid of that."

"Deducting fifty points each seems more than fair. Each of you will also serve a month's
worth of detentions. Separate detentions," she added, and the look of glee on Sirius' face
vanished. "I think that is enough for tonight. Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew, you may go. Potter,
I would ask you to stay for another minute."

Sirius shot James a pained look before closing the office door, leaving James alone with
Professor McGonagall. They regarded each other for a moment.

"You are supremely talented at Transfiguration, Potter," said Professor McGonagall at last. "It
is rare that I have a student who is so innately gifted."

James would have been less stunned if she had offered him his own set of tartan robes.
"Erm," he said. "Thanks. You're not bad, yourself."

Her lips grew tight at the edges, perhaps to hide a smile. "I suppose it is an exercise in futility
to tell a sixteen-year-old boy to be more careful."

James grinned. "If I were more careful, I'd be a worse wizard and a worse Chaser. We don't
want that, do we?"

"Certainly not." The lower half of Professor McGonagall's face lost its battle for control, and
she returned his smile. "I must admit that I am hoping to display the Cup in my office this
year. I've even got a space picked out for it." She gestured towards a glass cabinet behind her,
which was rather conspicuously empty.

"No worries, Professor. We're going to flatten Ravenclaw."

"I'm glad to hear it." She adjusted her pointed hat as she stood up. "You may go now, Potter."

His hand was on the door handle when she cleared her throat.

"Another thing," said Professor McGonagall, examining her wand. "If one needed a safe
place to go during an electrical storm, there is a passageway behind the statue of Cornelia the
Unbalanced that leads to a small grotto under the castle."

James stared at her. She made a shooing motion with her hand and swept into the room at the
back of her office, effectively ending their conversation.

That was probably for the best. He didn't have the heart to tell her they'd discovered that
passageway in their second year.
 The Beast Within

The first days of April were cold and wet. Students tracked in mud on the marble staircase,
causing Filch to take up permanent post there with a mop, and heavy grey clouds hung above
the tables of the Great Hall. The gloomy weather suited Severus just fine, as it meant the next
bonding activity would be held inside. This was far preferable to what had happened the
previous week, when Bella had led them all down to the Black Lake to participate in
something she called 'tubbing'.

Tubbing, it turned out, involved forcing a person's head underwater until they gasped for air,
gulping murky lake water into their lungs. Severus had hated this activity, as he had never
learnt to swim growing up. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to panic when
Evan Rosier continued to hold his head down even after he had swallowed three huge
lungfuls of water.

Afterwards, Severus had suggested that they crash James Potter's birthday party as a sort of
palate cleanser. Bella had found the idea delightful, and as far as Severus was concerned, the
look on James Potter's face when he realised he was outnumbered was worth a thousand near-
drownings at Rosier's hands.

Severus smiled to himself, remembering the way James' treehouse had imploded, taking all
of his birthday gifts with it. The memory was so sweet he might have been able to use it to
make a Patronus. Still smirking, he pushed open the gilded door to Dungeon Thirteen.

Immediately, a foul smell singed the hair from his nostrils, and he gagged, covering his
mouth. Dungeon Thirteen's normally immaculate furnishings were covered with the remains
of animals. Carcasses of creatures twisted in unnatural positions were draped across the high-
backed armchairs, and the white rug was stained with what he suspected was a mixture of
blood, pelts, and dung. The overall effect was grotesque, and the stench was nearly
unbearable.

"Severus!" Bella bounded towards him and clapped him on the shoulder. She was positively
beaming, seemingly unaffected by the macabre scene. "Today's ritual will go much better for
you than last week's, I think."

Severus cast a sceptical, watering eye over the animal remains littering the room. "I'd be
interested to learn what part of my personality suggests I'd be delighted to find myself
surrounded by dead animals."

Bella laughed and beckoned the other Intents closer. Most of them, like Severus, were finding
it difficult to hide their disgust. "Don't worry about the smell, my loves! Today, we are going
to learn something supremely interesting. We are going to make Inferi!"

Disgusting, but at least it's not tubbing. Severus crossed his arms. Beside him, Rabastan
Lestrange looked horrified, but the other Intents merely seemed confused.

Bella let out a loud sigh. "Who here knows what Inferi are?"
"They're zombies," burst Lestrange. "Reanimated corpses that —"

Severus noticed Bella's frown and stepped in. "Not zombies, Rabastan," he said. "Zombies
contain a fragment of the soul of the wizard who animates them. Inferi are more like puppets,
enchanted to do their master's bidding. They lack a will of their own."

Bella's pout became a pleased smile. "Beautiful definition. Today you will learn how to create
an Inferius. Human remains are in short supply — the Dark Lord needs those, you know —
so we shall use animals. But don't worry," she added, as though she anticipated an outcry
over the lack of human corpses. "The process is the same for both."

She divided them into pairs, placing Severus with Lestrange, whose face had turned a
distinctly jaundiced shade of green.

"My great-uncle was eaten by a zombie," he explained to Severus, wincing as Bella handed
them each an animal to work on. "It doesn't sit right with me, messing with the dead. I think
we ought to just leave them be."

Obviously, Severus agreed, but squeamishness would not earn him a spot among the Dark
Lord's inner circle. "These are just dead rodents," he said, examining the needle-like teeth in
his ferret's jaw. "Even reanimated, they're hardly dangerous."

"Only if you lack imagination," said Bella. "You will be imbuing these animals with your
will. They will do exactly what you want, so don't be afraid to think big."

Lestrange shuddered.

Animating the Inferi ended up being more difficult than Severus had anticipated. The process
required maintaining several different spells at once, and as the finishing step, they had to use
their own blood to draw runes on the carcasses.

"Make sure your runes correspond with what you want your Inferi to be able to do,"
instructed Bella as she watched their progress. "The more specific you can be, the better."

After about an hour, the room was full of animals shambling about with varying degrees of
realism. Lestrange's rat lay curled up at his feet, the rune for 'sleep' written in blood on its
pale fur.

"I hate this." Lestrange didn't bother to hide his revulsion as he stared at the rat.

Severus shrugged. His ferret was tripping over its own paws in an effort to chase its tail. "I
was expecting worse."

"Show of hands, who knows how to get rid of an Inferi?" asked Bella, raising her own hand
into the air.

Lestranges' hand shot up. "Fire."

"Precisely!" said Bella. "Any sort of light or heat will repel an Inferius, but fire works best.
Rodolphus, would you like to demonstrate?"
Lestrange looked like he would rather eat his own socks, but he nodded. He drew a deep
breath through his nose and pointed his wand at his rat, which vanished in a roaring column
of flame. After the fire had burnt itself out, he lowered his wand, sagging a little.

They burned what was left of the Inferi, and then Bella made them clean the entire dungeon
using rags and toothbrushes. It was nearly midnight by the time they finished, and Severus'
knees hurt from scrubbing dung out of the rug.

"That's enough for tonight," Bella said at last, surveying the room. Even after a good
cleaning, stains still lingered on the chairs, and the rug looked decidedly grimy. "I'll have the
house-elves do the rest. Rodolphus, let's go to the kitchens for a Butterbeer — you pushed
yourself tonight, and that makes me proud."

She slipped her arm around Lestranges' shoulders, the same way she had with Severus after
learning the Unforgivable Curses. She leaned into him, lowering her voice, but Severus
followed Mulciber and Avery out of Dungeon Thirteen before he could hear what she said.

Mulciber elbowed Severus in the side. "Guess what?"

"You need help in Charms again?"

"Very funny," deadpanned Mulciber. "But no. Look what I nicked."

He pulled his cloak aside to reveal a dead kitten tucked into a pocket of his robes. It looked
almost peaceful; with its eyes closed, it could be sleeping.

"A while back, we used your de-boning spell on a cat." Mulciber's cruel smile didn't reach his
icy blue eyes. "A muddy cat owned by a muddy girl. I thought she might like us to give her a
new one, now that we know how."

"You're sick!" cried Avery, but he looked elated.

Severus' heart sank. That cat had belonged to Lily's friends in Gryffindor, and it sounded like
Mulciber wanted to target Mary Macdonald, in particular. If it somehow got out that the
Intents knew how to create Inferi — if Lily linked it back to him…

"What do you say?" Mulciber leered at Severus. "Are you in?"

Severus pressed his lips together. He had told Lily that he was trying to stay neutral, but
allowing Mulciber to terrorise Lily's friends was hardly neutral behaviour. She might not
forgive him so quickly for that.

Then again, she had sided with James Potter and his mates at their party, hadn't she? She
hadn't so much as looked at him during the ambush in the Forbidden Forest. Not to mention
she was protecting a potential werewolf, of all things. She couldn't lecture him about
consorting with Dark creatures.

Severus nodded slowly, his eyes on the kitten. "I'm in."

After dinner on Tuesday, Lily walked back to Gryffindor tower with Parvana and Marlene,
who was bemoaning the fact that Lily wouldn't give her the Detachable Cribbing Cuffs she'd
confiscated from Eustace Fawley during Herbology.

"I'm just saying, you haven't turned them in to McGonagall yet, nobody'd be the wiser —"

"I can't risk it, Marly." Lily skipped a trick step on the stairs. "McGonagall's already got her
eye on me thanks to Potter's party fiasco. I need to fly under the radar for a while."

"'Radar: a system for detecting the presence of aircraft,'" recited Marlene. "Developed by the
Muggle military during the Global Wizarding War. Certain to come up on our O.W.L."

Parvana giggled. "If anyone needs the Cuffs, it's me. You've never gotten less than an
Acceptable in your life."

"I'm not trying to cheat," said Marlene as they reached the fifth floor landing. "I just want to
pass notes with Mary. Which would be possible if a certain red-haired someone would
conveniently let those Cuffs fall out of her pocket…"

"Maybe I'll start wearing them as a fashion accessory," said Lily, grinning at Marlene's mock
outrage. "Show off my power as a prefect. Make everyone jealous —"

A sudden shriek echoed from the top of the staircase. Lily stopped in her tracks, and Marlene
collided with her back. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," said Marlene. "That sounded like —"

A second scream reached their ears. Immediately, Lily began to sprint up the staircase, with
Marlene and Parvana close behind. For better or worse, five years as Gryffindors had trained
them to run towards danger, rather than away from it.

On the sixth floor, they raced down the corridor and rounded the corner to see the door to the
Arithmancy classroom hanging ajar. Lily yanked the door open and drew her wand as she
burst into the room.

Inside, Mulciber was looming over a terrified Mary Macdonald. He was clutching something
in his hands that Lily couldn't see. Mary sobbed, shaking her head as she tried to ward off
whatever Mulciber was holding.

"Mary!" cried Marlene. She leapt forward, trying to separate them, but Mulciber already had
his wand out. Marlene's arms snapped to her sides, and she fell to the ground, stiff as a board.

"STOP IT!" yelled Lily, pointing her wand at Mulciber. "What is WRONG with you?"
Behind her, Parvana murmured a Disarming Charm, and Mulciber's wand flew out of his
grasp. Mulciber merely chuckled, clomping towards them, and Lily's breath caught as she
saw what he was holding.
It was a kitten with the same tabby colouring as Fletcher, but something was horribly wrong
with it. Its fur was matted with blood, and its eyes were a milky white. It stretched its paws
towards her, claws extended, struggling to free itself from Mulciber's grasp.

Mulciber stroked the kitten with one of his meaty hands. "I heard Mary was missing a cat. I
thought she might like to have a replacement."

"That's not a cat!" wailed Mary. "It's — it attacked me — Lily, it's dead!"

The kitten's tongue lolled out of its mouth, and a wave of nausea washed over Lily as she
stared at it.

Mulciber grinned at her horrified expression. "Isn't it precious? And it loves Mary, muddy
blood and all."

He tossed the kitten carelessly into the air, and it landed on the floor with a sickening splat.
For a moment, it didn't move, and Lily hoped it was well and truly dead. Then its limbs begin
to twitch, and it staggered to its feet, making a tottering beeline towards Mary. Mary shrieked
and clambered onto a desk, drawing her legs to her chest, but the kitten leapt farther than it
should have been able to and sank its claws into her calf.

Mary screamed, shaking her leg frantically to dislodge the kitten, but it held fast. Rivulets of
blood trickled down her leg. Lily took a deep breath and ran towards the kitten, trying to grab
it, but it sank its teeth into her hand and she pulled back, swearing.

"Call it off!" she demanded, whirling towards Mulciber. "It's hurting her!"

"Oh, is it?" asked Mulciber, putting his hands behind his head. "I hadn't noticed." He made
for the door, whistling, but Parvana blocked his way, pointing Mulciber's own wand at him.

"Try me," said Parvana in a low voice.

Mulciber raised an eyebrow. "Challenge accepted."

Before Lily could react, he grabbed Parvana by the wrist and twisted. There was a
sickening crack, and Parvana cried out in pain. Moving quickly now, Mulciber plucked the
wand from her hand and pushed her roughly to the ground. He stepped over her on his way
out the door.

Rage burned through Lily's veins, and she pointed her wand at his back. "IMPEDIMENTA!"

But it was too late; the jinx ricocheted uselessly off the door frame as Mulciber ducked
around the corner.

Mary shrieked again. "Lily, HELP ME!"

Lily whirled around. The kitten was crawling up Mary's leg, its claws tearing into her skin.
"Petrificus Totalus!" she shouted. The spell hit the kitten on its hindquarters, sinking into its
matted fur, but it continued to climb, seemingly unaffected.
"What the — why didn't that work?" cried Lily, but Mary was sobbing too hard to respond.
"Diffindo!" The spell slashed three large gashes across the kitten's back but didn't slow it
down. It had reached Mary's stomach and was clawing its way up her blouse, teeth bared.

"Please," whimpered Mary, trying to push the kitten away. "Stop it — please..."

"I don't know how!" exclaimed Lily, trying to pry it off Mary's shirt. "It won't — nothing
works —"

There was a whooshing sound, and a jet of light hit Marlene's stiff, prone body. Lily turned to
see Parvana slumped against the wall, one hand cradled in her lap and the other pointing her
wand at Marlene.

Marlene bolted upright as soon as the countercurse hit her. "I am going to murder Mulciber,"
she growled. "Thanks for that, Parvana. You alright?"

"I'm fine." Parvana's breathing was shallow. "Help Mary. Please."

"Right." Marlene turned around. "Lily, this disgusting thing is undead."

"Yeah, I can see that myself, actually." Lily sent another ineffective Cutting Hex at the kitten,
which had nearly reached Mary's neck.

"Fire," said Parvana slowly, her eyes widening. "We need to use fire."

"Exactly." Marlene's expression was grim. "Mary, cover your face, I don't want you getting
burned. Lily, Parvana, Incendios on three." Slightly perplexed, Lily nodded, holding her
wand out. "One… two… three!"

Three Fire-Making Spells streaked towards the kitten like missiles, setting it ablaze. It
tumbled to the floor, writhing, something akin to a scream coming from its mouth. The pillar
of fire flared brightly, and the kitten was consumed. The flames burnt out as if nothing had
ever happened — there wasn't even a trace of ashes where the kitten had been.

Marlene held Mary as she sobbed. "Shh, it's alright," she cooed, stroking Mary's hair. "It's
gone now. It can't hurt you anymore."

Lily knelt beside Mary to examine her legs. The scratches were long and deep, and they
continued to bleed. "We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Mary shook her head, hiccuping. "I can't walk to the hospital wing like this. If someone
sees… I don't want the whole school to know…"

"You stay here then, and I'll go get her," said Lily determinedly.

"I'll come, too." Parvana straightened shakily. "Better to go in twos. Plus…" She gestured to
her wrist, which was bent at an odd angle.

"Are you going to tell Pomfrey what happened?" asked Lily as they stepped into the corridor.
"That I had Mulciber wandless and he still managed to get the better of me?" said Parvana,
giving Lily a wan smile. "No, thanks. I'd rather her think it was a Quidditch accident."

Lily frowned. "We can't let him get away with this."

"Yeah, but what can Madam Pomfrey do?" asked Parvana. "Besides, it's just a broken wrist. I
mean, it definitely hurts, but it takes about a minute to fix."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "You know, in the Muggle world, breaking a bone is kind of a big
deal."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. You have to wear a plaster cast — sort of like a brace — for months, and you can't get
it wet. It's annoying and itchy, and takes a long time to heal."

"Makes me glad I'm a witch," said Parvana, wincing as she examined her wrist. "I'll just have
to get him back the next time we play Slytherin in Quidditch."

When they got to the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey noticed Parvana's injury immediately
and indeed was able to mend it in less than two minutes. As the Mediwitch gently flexed
Parvana's newly-healed wrist, Parvana caught Lily's gobsmacked expression and smiled a
little. "Quicker than a plaster cast?"

"You have no idea," said Lily. "Also, Madam Pomfrey, we were hoping… there's someone
else, upstairs, who you should see…"

Madam Pomfrey took one look at the seriousness of their faces and followed them back to
the Arithmancy classroom. Marlene was still holding Mary, who had stopped crying and was
now staring blankly into the distance, a dazed expression on her face.

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue as she examined the oozing cuts on Mary's leg. "These
were caused by Dark magic, were they not?"

"Yeah," said Marlene hoarsely.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and pulled a jar full of a foul-smelling poultice out of her
robes. She dipped a finger inside and dabbed Mary's wounds with it, staunching the bleeding.
"What happened?"

"Dunno," said Mary dully.

Madam Pomfrey's head snapped up and she fixed Mary with a stern look. "Young lady. You
have nothing to gain by protecting whoever did this to you." She turned her steely gaze to
Parvana, who swallowed nervously. "And I'm supposed to believe you broke your wrist in
a Quidditch accident?"

"It wasn't a person," said Mary. "It was a creature. And we — well, they — dealt with it."
Marlene looked at Mary in alarm, but Mary kept her eyes fixed on the poultice Madam
Pomfrey was slathering on her legs.

"A creature," repeated Madam Pomfrey, shaking her head. "Well, then. I can't force you to
tell me the details. But I think it would do some good if you were to speak with a qualified
adult about this situation."

With that, she pulled out her wand and began to murmur an incantation that sounded more
like a song. Lily watched in amazement as the gashes on Mary's legs knit back together,
leaving only thin, pale scars.

"What sort of spell was that?" asked Lily once Madam Pomfrey had finished. "It didn't sound
like anything I've ever heard before."

"It manipulates the layers of the skin," replied Madam Pomfrey, stowing her wand in her
robes. "Heals superficial cuts easily enough, though it takes some finesse to leave a clean
finish. Dark magic has a tendency to scar, but these should fade in a week or so." She turned
towards Mary once again. "Please, Miss Macdonald — is there anything else you would like
to tell me about what happened this evening?"

"No, ma'am," said Mary softly. "Thank you, though."

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue, muttered something that sounded like 'children', and
bustled out of the room.

After she had gone, Lily, Marlene, and Parvana helped Mary back to the Gryffindor
dormitory and tucked her into bed. Lily handed Mary a vial of Dreamless Sleep, which
Madam Pomfrey had instructed she take to prevent the formation of anxieties related to the
attack. Mary downed the vial without complaint, then closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell
as her breathing slowed.

"One thing is still bothering me," said Lily once she was certain that Mary was asleep. "How
did you know to use fire?"

Marlene shrugged. "Everybody knows that, don't they? There are all those children's stories
about zombies, Inferi, and the like, and the hero always uses some kind of fire spell to get rid
of them."

"In Muggle stories, you have to kill a zombie by taking out its brains," Lily said. "That's what
I was trying to do. I thought… if I could get to its skull…"

Marlene shook her head. "Nah. It doesn't work like that."

Parvana smiled a little. "First broken bones, now zombies. Muggles have some odd ideas,
don't they?"

"That's one way of putting it," muttered Lily. This was the third time in recent weeks that
she'd been caught out for lacking what was apparently common knowledge in the wizarding
world. She wondered if this pattern would continue throughout her life — maybe when she
was a crotchety old witch, her neighbours would laugh at her for being so ignorant. And what
was she missing from the Muggle world, by being so immersed in the wizarding one?

Marlene was watching Mary sleep soundly. "I worry about her," Marlene murmured into
Lily's ear. "And about you, too."

Lily looked at her, surprised. "I'm not the one Mulciber attacked with a zombie kitten."

"No, but you're a Muggle-born like she is," said Marlene. "It feels like the war is getting
closer, and it makes me nervous."

Lily knew what Marlene meant. During her previous years at Hogwarts, it hadn't been so
important that her parents were Muggles, but now it seemed like she was constantly being
reminded that she was an outsider. "Just because Mulciber has a case of pure-blood fever
doesn't mean we're at war.”

"Not yet, at least," said Marlene.

Lily sighed and rested her head on Marlene's shoulder. "Not yet."

Severus spent the next week doing his best to track the movements of Remus Lupin and his
friends, especially after dinner, when he figured they were most likely to sneak out. The full
moon was only days away, and he hoped they'd let something slip when they didn't realise he
was listening.

Unfortunately, he hadn't overheard anything enlightening so far. All four Gryffindor boys
were still being punished for being stupid enough to throw a party in the Forbidden Forest, so
after dinner they usually split up to serve their separate detentions. James would head to the
kitchens, where Severus assumed he was tasked with helping the house-elves tidy up. Peter
went to the dungeons to sort through Slughorn's potions cabinet, and Sirius and Remus would
vanish up Hogwarts' many flights of stairs, presumably doing something tedious for
McGonagall or Flitwick.

Severus got his chance the night of the full moon. Remus Lupin wasn't at dinner, and Sirius
lingered at the Gryffindor table long after James and Peter had gone to their detentions.
Finally, Sirius slipped out of the Great Hall alone. After waiting a minute, Severus followed
him into the Entrance Hall, where he was just in time to see Sirius bounding up the marble
staircase and out of sight.

Severus slung his bag over his shoulder and followed as quickly as he could, trying not to
draw attention to himself. He reached the first floor landing just in time to see Sirius vanish
around a corner.
Severus' heart pounded, both from excitement and the exertion of using his scrawny legs to
sprint up the stairs. Sirius was going to the hospital wing. This was new.

The infirmary corridor was empty by the time Severus reached it. He crept forward and
pressed his ear to the door, but no noise came from inside. He took a deep breath and quietly
pushed the door open.

As soon as he stepped inside, a pair of hands grabbed him by the collar and shoved him
roughly onto a nearby cot.

"I knew it," said Sirius triumphantly, drawing the curtains around the cot. "You are following
us. I told James, but he didn't believe me."

Severus tried to pull out his wand, but Sirius was ready for it. He grabbed a handful of
Severus' hair and shoved him onto the cot, snatching the wand from his hands.

"Stop — give that back," said Severus, scrambling into a sitting position.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, twirling the wand between his fingers. "Or else you'll what?
Punch me? I'd like to see you try."

"You think you're hot stuff, don't you?" sneered Severus. "Firstborn of the House of Black,
think you can shove around whoever you want —"

"Not whoever I want, Snivellus," said Sirius, feigning a yawn. "Just you, really."

"Why did you lure me here?"

"Lure?" repeated Sirius incredulously. "I didn't lure you anywhere. I was minding my own
business, and you followed me like the little sneak you are. Just like you followed us to the
Shrieking Shack. And to our party."

Suddenly, Sirius lunged and grabbed Severus' arms, forcing him back onto the cot and
pinning him down. Severus thrashed, trying to twist free, but it was no use. Weeks of running
drills with the other Intents had given his undernourished frame an ounce of much-needed
muscle, but he was no match for Sirius, who was tall and strongly built.

"I heard something interesting from Remus at that party." Sirius' breath was hot against
Severus' ear. "Lily told him you've been coming up with theories about his illness."

"Not theories," snarled Severus, trying to push Sirius off of him. "Facts."

Sirius grinned, clearly enjoying watching Severus struggle. "Theories and gossip and
speculation, Snivellus. Unless you've seen him transform with your own two eyes?"

"So you admit he transforms?"

Sirius let go of him then, but before Severus could sit up, Sirius grabbed him by the front of
his robes and hauled him against the wall, his wand pressed into Severus' throat.
"I admit nothing," growled Sirius. "But if you're so intent on finding out, why don't you
follow the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and see where it leads?"

"Tell me how to get past the branches," wheezed Severus. Sirius' wand was cutting into his
windpipe.

"Easy," said Sirius. "Touch the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow. Password to the
tunnel's 'open sesame.'"

He released Severus, who staggered backwards, willing himself to maintain his balance.

"And when I kill the monster you call a friend?" rasped Severus, massaging his throat.

Sirius barked a laugh. "You're a joke, you know that, Snivellus? You couldn't so much as
singe a single hair on his head. Or hide, as the case may be." He winked, then checked his
watch, which was cheap and obviously made by Muggles. He probably thought it made him
look cool. "Pomfrey's already left with Remus, so I'd say you've got, what, half an hour till
moonrise? Make sure to cast that Disillusionment charm you do so well, so she doesn't see
you on her way back to the castle."

He held Severus' wand out. Severus took it, eyeing Sirius sceptically. "Why are you telling
me all this?"

"It's quite straightforward, really," said Sirius airily. "If you want to know what's wrong with
Remus so badly, you deserve to find out." He pulled back the curtains to expose the empty
hospital wing before turning back to Severus, a mad light dancing in his eyes. "When you see
him, give Remus my regards."

James collapsed into a squashy armchair in the Gryffindor common room, rubbing his hands.
The skin around his nails was dry and cracked from washing dishes with the house-elves in
the kitchens. He actually found his detentions quite pleasant, so far — he enjoyed the
mindless rhythm of scrubbing the pots and pans until they were sparkling clean, and the
house-elves always gave him sweets at the end of the night.

Peter passed him a jar of snail essence. "Sirius still in detention?"

"Guess so." James twisted the lid off the jar and scooped out a handful of greyish slime.
"Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"

They had played three rounds of Exploding Snap and were halfway through building an
elaborate card castle when Sirius crawled through the portrait hole, grinning.

"Exploding Snap?" asked Sirius, joining them at the table. "I've got a better game for you. It's
called… wait for it… Exploding Snape."
Peter groaned, but James laughed, stacking another card atop the castle. "I'm in. How do we
play? Slipping as many firecrackers as possible into Snape's dirty old bag?"

"Better," said Sirius, grinning. "First, we watch as Snivellus sneaks down to the Whomping
Willow. Then we laugh at the look on his face when he realises he's about to be mauled by a
werewolf, and it's his own damn fault."

It was Peter's turn to laugh this time, but James frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he was snooping around like usual, wanting to know what's wrong with Remus, so I
told him to go find out," said Sirius with a shrug.

Peter sniggered. "I'd like to see him try to get past the Whomping Willow."

"Oh, I told him how," said Sirius, waving his hand. "Not that it wouldn't be amusing watching
him try to avoid its branches, but I figured it was best to cut to the chase."

"Sirius," said James slowly, "please tell me you're joking."

"Of course I'm not joking," said Sirius. "The nosy git wants to go toe-to-toe with a
bloody werewolf. Who am I to withhold information in the presence of such stupidity?"

"Sirius, that's not a werewolf, it's Remus," said James, jumping to his feet. The movement
knocked over the card castle, which exploded with a noise like a gunshot, dusting their robes
with soot.

"Is it really Remus, though?" said Peter thoughtfully. "I've always been unclear if Remus and
the wolf are one and the same, like with Animagi, or if he disappears entirely when he
transforms, leaving behind only the wolf… not many texts on the philosophy of lycanthropy
in the library, you know…"

"Regardless, Pete, they're not gonna put the wolf on trial when Snape gets killed," snapped
James. He strode towards the portrait hole, and Sirius made to follow him, but James whirled
around, pointing his wand at Sirius' throat.

"You're not coming," said James in a low voice. "You're going to Dumbledore and telling him
exactly what you did. Then you lot are going to pray that I get to Snape before Remus does."

He barely registered the look of shock on Sirius' face before he was off, scrambling out the
portrait hole and through the castle as quickly as he could. He sprinted onto the grounds,
ignoring the wind that whipped around him, chilling him to the bone.

When he reached the Whomping Willow, he darted towards the base of the tree, not
bothering to freeze its branches. One particularly large bough came crashing towards him,
and he flung himself onto his stomach, rolling out of the way. Many smaller branches lashed
at him like whips; one struck him across the shoulder and he swore, crawling to the tunnel
which lay at the base of the tree.

He flung himself into the tunnel headfirst, nearly knocking his chin against a root that jutted
up from the ground.
"SNAPE!" bellowed James, but there was no response. He ran through the tunnel as quickly
as he could, bent nearly in two and scrabbling with his arms to find purchase against the
uneven ground.

Finally, a faint light gleamed at the end of the tunnel, coming from the trapdoor that led to the
Shrieking Shack. James drew his wand, and his stomach turned as he realised that Severus
wasn't there. He leapt upwards and reached for the handle on the trapdoor, ready to pull it
down and face the wolf on the other side —

He collided mid-air with something solid and invisible and tumbled to the ground. It felt like
he was lying atop a tangle of limbs, a body… he could see a dim outline that moved as the
body fought to throw him off…

"Snape?!" exclaimed James, scrambling to his feet.

"Come to see the show?" sneered Severus, who had Disillusioned himself so well that James
could barely tell he was there.

"Snape, we have to go," panted James. "It's not safe —"

"You don't say." Severus' voice dripped with sarcasm. "Thanks for the offer, but you're
stupider than you look if you seriously think I'm not going to find out what's up there."

He reached a shimmery hand up, grasping the handle of the trapdoor. James tackled him, and
they fell in a jumble to the ground, but not before the trapdoor above them swung open.

Light flooded the tunnel, and James looked up, squinting. He could see the drawing room of
the Shrieking Shack above him, all its furniture where it should be.

Then something growled, long and low, and a dark shape blocked the entrance to the
Shrieking Shack.

Instinctively, James threw his arms out, shielding Severus, even as a part of his brain told him
it was crazy to do so, since Severus was Disillusioned. He, James, was the only human the
wolf would see —

"Lumos!" shouted Severus, and light illuminated the tunnel. The wolf's pupils contracted to
pinpoints; it had human eyes, brown and round and grotesquely familiar. It bared its fangs.

It lunged as James raised his wand. "STUPEFY!"

The spell ricocheted off the wolf's pelt, and it stumbled backwards. Its hindquarters were still
in the Shack, but its front hung out the trapdoor. It snapped its slavering jaws as its claws
slashed through the air, tearing at James' robes.

"STUPEFY!" cried James again, but the spell merely glanced off the wolf's muzzle. It shook
its head, annoyed, and readied itself to leap into the tunnel. Frantically, James pointed his
wand at the trapdoor, praying his next spell would work. "COLLOPORTUS!"
The trapdoor swung upward right as the wolf lunged. The door forced it backwards, and the
wolf snarled, its paws scrabbling for purchase. At last, the door slammed shut. The wolf was
trapped inside the Shrieking Shack.

James kept his wand pointed at the trapdoor, breathing heavily. An anguished, eerily human
moan sounded inside the Shack, followed by a loud bang. The wolf had flung itself against
the trapdoor, which shuddered under its weight.

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, SNAPE?" bellowed James, pushing him down the tunnel.
"RUN!"

Severus didn't need telling twice. He fled, his Disillusioned outline disappearing into the
darkness of the tunnel. James' heart hammered violently in his chest as he sprinted after him.
More bangs came from behind them, followed by the splintering of wood. Please let the door
hold, please let it hold…

The branches of the Whomping Willow were still as James hauled himself out of the tunnel.
In front of him, Severus was panting, hands on his knees. Severus tapped his wand to his
head, undoing his Disillusionment Charm. When he looked at James, fury burned in his black
eyes.

"I didn't ask you to —"

"You're lucky I did," spat James. He was shaking, but he didn't know if it was from
adrenaline or the cold or something else. "You were inches away from a werewolf, and your
spell of choice is Lumos? You stupid, nosy, half-brained —"

"I think that's quite enough, Mr Potter," said a calm voice. James turned to see a tall, white-
bearded figure striding towards them, followed by Sirius.

"Would you two be so kind as to accompany me to my office?" said Albus Dumbledore. It

wasn't a question.
 Punishments

"…And there's no password to the tunnel, either, I stood there for nearly five minutes saying
'open sesame' like an imbecile before I realised, so thanks for that —"

"Well, Snivellus, I can hardly be blamed if you're too stupid to look with your eyes and see
the tunnel laying right there —"

"You tried to kill me!"

"YOU WANTED TO BE KILLED!" bellowed Sirius. He and Severus were standing at

opposite ends of Dumbledore's office, shouting at each other. The headmaster was watching
the exchange from behind his desk, his hands clasped calmly and his eyes flicking back and
forth as if following a lively sports match.

Sirius jabbed a finger at Severus. "You noticed something was dodgy with Remus, and
instead of minding your own damn business like a normal person, you stuck your great greasy
nose in it! You started snooping around for clues, figured out he's a werewolf, and then
decided you wanted to see for yourself? None of that is my fault!"

"No," sneered Severus, "your fault lies in telling me how to get past the protections designed
to keep students safe from that monster, just because you thought it would be funny if I got
injured, or killed —"

"Well, I wasn't about to cry over it. I can see the epitaph now: 'Here lies Severus Snape, who
walked into a werewolf den and was surprised when he got bit. Rest in bloody peace.'"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," said Severus drily. "You're acting like a proper Black now,
getting an inhuman monster to kill a half-blood for your own amusement. I should tell Bella
— I'm sure she'd be proud."

Sirius lunged at Severus, but Professor Dumbledore waved his wand and Sirius went flying
backwards into a chair at the far end of the room. Sirius struggled to rise from the chair, but it
was no use; he seemed to be bound by invisible chains. Eventually, he stopped flailing and
resorted to glaring at Severus, too angry to speak.

"Mr Potter," said Dumbledore, startling James, who was slouched in a chair across from
Dumbledore's desk and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. "Is what Severus claims true?
Did Sirius purposefully tell Severus how to get past the Whomping Willow, with the
intention that Remus Lupin harm him?"

"I don't know, sir," said James, crossing his arms. His shoulder throbbed where the
Whomping Willow had cut him. "You'll have to ask Sirius what his motivations were. I
definitely don't know what he was thinking."

Sirius gaped at him. "James," he said. "You know I wasn't trying to — I would never —"
"I don't know anything about you." James kept his eyes on the floor.

"He was following us!" exclaimed Sirius, a pleading note in his voice. "He wanted to get at
us, at Remus — wanted to know how to get past the tree — I only thought…"

Professor Dumbledore eyed Sirius gravely. "Remus Lupin spends the full moon in the
Shrieking Shack because it is the only place able to contain him during his transformation.
He voluntarily isolates himself, both for his own safety and the safety of all those at
Hogwarts. Regardless of Severus Snape's machinations, Remus' secret was not yours to give
away."

Sirius paled. "I never meant to — I wasn't thinking about Remus…"

"That much is obvious," said Dumbledore softly.

Severus' expression had grown increasingly sullen as Dumbledore spoke. Apparently unable
to contain himself any longer, he burst out, "So you knew what Lupin was, and you let him
attend Hogwarts?! The danger he poses — any one of us could be killed —"

"You are quite right," said Professor Dumbledore, cutting Severus off. "I allowed Remus
Lupin a place at Hogwarts. He deserves an education just as much as any other student in this
castle. It is for this reason that you must not reveal his secret."

Severus stared uncomprehendingly at the headmaster, as though Dumbledore had just

informed him that Potions classes were being replaced by ballet lessons. "Do you mean to
say," he said slowly, "that you expect me to — to cover for that… monster?"

"That is exactly what I expect." Professor Dumbledore looked pleased that Severus had
grasped the matter so quickly.

Severus shook his head in disbelief, his stringy hair falling across his face. "And if I refuse?"

"Then you shall be expelled."

"No," said Severus immediately. "You can't be serious."

"I am quite in earnest," said Dumbledore. "And if you feel that you are incapable of
discretion on this matter, there are ways to compel your silence. I am not opposed to
modifying your memory so that you forget you ever took an interest in Remus Lupin. There
are also Unbreakable Vows — though I must confess I find it distasteful to threaten you with
silence or death, so I hope you will agree that such drastic measures are unnecessary."

"But — why?" spluttered Severus. "Why go through all this effort to protect a —"

"A human being," said Professor Dumbledore. "A person much the same as you or I, who
was bitten as a child through no fault of his own, and has since suffered in ways I would not
wish upon my worst enemy."

"But he's dangerous. The other students deserve to know — "

"I see I will not convince you on this matter," said Professor Dumbledore sadly. "Luckily for
Remus Lupin, I am the headmaster of this school and you are not. As such, he will remain a
student at Hogwarts, however much you may disagree with my decision. Now, do I have your
word that you will not tell a soul what you saw tonight?"

Severus and Dumbledore stared at each other for a full minute. Sirius took the opportunity to
nudge James' chair with his foot, trying to get his attention, but James looked away,
pretending to be supremely interested in picking the dirt off his robes.

At last, Severus nodded sullenly. "Fine."

"I am relieved to hear it." Professor Dumbledore smiled, seeming to relax a bit. "On that note,
the hour is late. You have my permission to return to your respective dormitories."

James didn't need telling twice. He jumped from his chair, and Sirius made to stand as well,
but Dumbledore shook his head. "Mr Black, I'm afraid I must ask you to stay awhile longer,
so that we may talk privately."

Sirius glanced desperately at James, who responded with the most disinterested shrug he
could manage.

When James left the headmaster's office, he descended the spiral staircase three steps at a
time, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and Severus.

"Here's hoping he's expelled," came a drawling voice behind him, echoing off the stone walls.

James grit his teeth. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"It's no less than he deserves, luring me to that monster —"

James drew his wand and whirled around, advancing on Severus. To his gratification, there
was a spark of fear in Severus' black eyes.

"I'll give you one warning, Snivellus," he said in a low voice. "If I catch you so much as
looking at Remus sideways, I will Transfigure your vital organs into sandbags and drag your
body to the Shrieking Shack at the next full moon. I swear on my wand."

Severus' mouth curled into a sneer. "And they say Slytherin is full of sadists."

"I'll make Whoever-He-Is look like Helga Hufflepuff," said James. "So I suggest you keep
your greasy trap shut." He pocketed his wand and strode away from Severus, who was
standing very still in the middle of the corridor. "By the way," called James over his shoulder,
"you're welcome for saving your life."
It was nearly midnight by the time James got back to the boys' dormitory. He pulled his robes
over his head and collapsed onto his bed, sighing deeply.

Peter rolled over in bed to face James. There was a little scab on his lip, as though he'd been
worrying that spot for hours. "What happened?"

"Well, Snivellus is still with us, unfortunately." James yanked off his socks and hurled them
to the floor. "Though not for lack of trying on his part, mind you."

"Did he get past the Willow?"

James nodded. "He saw Moony."

Peter's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "And — did you…?"

"Yeah," said James. "I saw him too. He was… Merlin, Pete, the wolf had Remus' eyes. It was
horrifying."

"It didn't get you, though?" asked Peter, gesturing to James' shoulder.

"Oh — no, I'm fine." James touched the long gash in his shoulder and winced a little. "This
was from the Willow, I'll get Poppy to look at it in the morning."

Peter exhaled, reassured. "And Sirius…?"

"Still talking to Dumbledore," said James, pulling on his pyjamas. "Looks like he might be
expelled."

Peter's jaw dropped. "Expelled?!"

"Don't look so shocked, Pete. It's what he deserves, and good riddance."

Peter stared at James aghast, as though frightened that James might say 'good riddance' to
him, too. "You don't mean that."

James sighed. "No, I suppose I don't. But I —"

Just then, the dormitory door swung open, and Sirius entered the room. His dark hair hung
limply around his face, and his eyes were red.

James crossed his arms. "So?"

"So I'm staying," said Sirius hoarsely. "We just talked. He told me —" He stopped himself
and lifted a shoulder. "It doesn't matter. No detention. He didn't even take points."

James raised an eyebrow. "Pity."

Sirius nodded, looking miserable. He headed towards his bed, but James stepped in front of
him, blocking his path.
"You're not sleeping here," he said. "You think Remus is going to want to share a dormitory
with you when he finds out what you did?"

Sirius grimaced, but he didn't look particularly surprised. "Let me get my stuff, at least."

James made a show of checking his watch. "You have three minutes."

Sirius was gone in two.

The next morning, James was up before Peter. He dressed quickly, ignoring his aching body,
and went to the hospital wing. He sat on the nearest cot, listening to the clicking of Madam
Pomfrey's shoes as she approached him.

"Potter," she said, sounding exasperated, "You know Remus isn't supposed to have visitors
—"

"I'm here for myself, actually." James undid his robes to expose his injured shoulder. "Well,
and I also wanted to see Remus, of course."

"He injured himself worse than usual last night, I'm afraid," said Madam Pomfrey as she
examined his shoulder. "He needs rest, not you boys working him up —"

"I'm a healing presence, Poppy."

"Five points from Gryffindor for cheek," she said, and James grinned. She pressed her fingers
into his shoulder, and it throbbed suddenly with pain. She tutted. "Someone got too close to
the Whomping Willow."

"Sirius dared me," he said. Madam Pomfrey merely raised her eyebrows and pointed her
wand at the long, thin cut. Immediately, his skin began to itch as the wound knitted itself
back together.

"Thanks," said James, re-buttoning his robes.

"You have several bruises, as well," she said pointedly.

He shrugged. "I can live with those. Can I see Remus now?"

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, but she inclined her head towards the familiar, curtained cot at the
end of the room. "If you upset him, Potter, I'm throwing you out. Consider yourself warned."

"Noted," said James, smiling at her.

Behind the curtains, Remus was lying on his back on the cot and staring at the ceiling. His
bloodshot eyes flickered towards James.

"Something happened last night." Remus' knuckles were white as he gripped the sheets. "I
broke my collarbone trying to — to get at something. I think it was a person. James… tell me
the truth, did I —"
"Everyone's okay," said James, sitting at the foot of Remus' bed. "Nobody got hurt. But
Moony — Snape saw you."

Remus' bloodless face somehow paled even further. "Saw me? How — I didn't —"

"He opened the trapdoor at the end of the tunnel. I managed to close it, but he caught a
glimpse of you."

It took Remus several moments to process this. "So… does that mean — did you…"

James nodded. "I saw you too."

Remus shut his eyes tightly, as if he was in pain. "James," he rasped. "I'm so sorry…"

"It wasn't your fault," said James. "You've got nothing to apologise for. Don't you want to
know how Snape got past the Whomping Willow?"

Remus opened his eyes, nonplussed. "I know he tried following us last month…"

"It was Sirius," said James. His best mate's name sounded harsh and foreign in his mouth,
like a curse. "Sirius told him how to get to the tunnel. How to find you."

Remus' expression was blank. "I don't understand," he said slowly. "Why would he do that?
During the full moon… he knows — of course he knows —"

"What seems to have happened," said James, balling his hands into fists, "is that Sirius
figured giving Snape the information he wanted would get him off our back, one way or
another. I'm under the impression he didn't much care about the outcome."

"But I could have killed him," said Remus. "I could have killed you. Surely Sirius didn't
mean —"

"I don't think his intentions matter, much," said James. "What he did crossed a line. He
betrayed your trust. You get to decide the consequences for that."

Remus considered this, pulling a thread-worn blanket around himself. He closed his eyes and
was silent for so long that James thought he might have fallen asleep. When he finally stirred,
there was a hardness in his face that James had never seen before.

"Sirius will probably beg me for forgiveness," said Remus, "but I'm not ready to give him
that. So I'd like you to keep him away from me. Can you do that?"

James put a hand on Remus' shoulder. "Consider it done."

Lily arrived early to Potions class that afternoon. She set her bag on the chair beside her and
opened her textbook, taking notes while the other students trickled in. She kept her head
down as a swirl of shabby, patched robes entered her peripheral vision.

"May I?"

Severus was standing in front of her table, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He gestured
towards her bag on the chair beside her.

"That seat's taken, actually," said Lily coolly, returning to her book.

Severus couldn't take a hint, apparently. "No, it's not. We're assigned partners, Lily."

She raised her eyebrows. "And since when has that mattered to you? You've seemed perfectly
happy to share a cauldron with Mulciber lately."

"I — I told you, he made me —"

"Of course he did," she said flatly. "That's your relationship with Mulciber all over, isn't it?
He's always forcing you to do things you don't want to do. Always bullying you, isn't he?"

Severus' dark brow furrowed over his hooked nose. "What are you insinuating?"

"Why don't you read between the lines and figure it out?"

"How can I figure it out when you're being deliberately obtuse —"

"Saved me a seat, did you, Evans?" asked Sirius Black. He slid into the chair beside Lily,
knocking her bag to the floor. "Oops — my mistake..." Leaning over, he picked up her bag
and tossed it carelessly onto the table.

Severus' mouth opened and shut several times before he found words to speak. "You're —
you're working with him?"

"No, I'm not." Lily turned to Sirius. "That seat's for Parvana. Get out."

Sirius examined his nails. "Parvana's working with James today, actually."

It was Lily's turn to gape at Sirius. "Why?"

"Because I paid her ten Galleons to partner with him," said Sirius, shrugging. "Looks like
you're stuck with me."

"Lily doesn't want to sit with you," said Severus immediately.

She bristled. "Don't put words in my mouth, Sev."

"But you… but he —"

"You heard her, Sev," said Sirius loftily, as though addressing a house-elf. "Go on, then.
Looks like Mulciber's missing you." He jerked his head towards the back of the room, where
Mulciber was struggling to set up his cauldron.

Severus looked like he desperately wanted to curse Sirius, but he focused on Lily with a
Herculean effort. "After class," he said. "You need to tell me what's going on."

"Looking forward to it," said Lily frostily. As soon as Severus had stalked off, she asked
Sirius, "Did you actually pay Parvana ten Galleons to sit with James?"

"Nah," said Sirius, pulling a set of delicate silver scales from his bag. "I paid her twenty."

"But why —"

"I was feeling like a change of pace." Sirius squinted at instructions on the board. "Now, to
business. Would you rather extract the Billywing venom or gut the Flobberworms?"

Lily eyed him suspiciously and glanced behind them. James was indeed sitting with Parvana,
who was giggling at something he had said. He noticed Lily watching and blew her a little
kiss.

She turned back around, sighing heavily. "I'll gut the Flobberworms."

Working with Sirius ended up being more pleasant than she had originally anticipated.
Despite his feigned indifference, he was sharp, and at one point he even stopped her from
adding shaved Gurdyroot to the cauldron three steps too early. Their Calming Draught may
not have turned the exact shade of periwinkle Lily could have achieved with Severus, but it
was close. And not even Severus could save Mulciber from himself: their potion looked like
a sampling of sludge from the bottom of the Black Lake.

Slughorn had barely dismissed them before Sirius grabbed his bag and hopped out of his seat.
He planted a loud, smacking kiss on Lily's cheek, then sped out of the dungeon.

Lily touched her face, grimacing. Mercurial didn't even begin to describe Sirius Black. She
noticed Severus staring at her, appalled, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I can't believe he kissed you!" said Severus, following her out of the classroom. "The nerve
of that arrogant, presumptuous —"

"Oh, spare me," snapped Lily as they entered the courtyard. The sun was warm on her back,
but she felt as if the air had gone several degrees colder. "Don't pretend like you care more
for me than he does."

Severus looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Lily… how can you… in case
you've forgotten, you didn't want to sit with me!"

"And have you figured out the reason why yet?"

"No, I have no idea! I thought we were supposed to be friends. Best friends?"

"We are, Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging round with! I'm sorry, but I
detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What d'you see in him, Sev, he's creepy!"
"Well, obviously I wouldn't have sat with him if you had let me be your partner. You know
you were my first choice."

"As if you haven't been spending every spare minute with Mulciber anyway," said Lily. "And
I don't believe for a second that he's bullying you. I think you want to be mates with him.
D'you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?"

Severus paled. "That — that was nothing. It was a laugh, that's all –"

"I was there, Sev. It was Dark Magic, and if you think that's funny –"

"What about the stuff Potter and Black get up to?" he blurted.

Lily blinked. "What — we're talking about Mulciber! What's Potter got to do with anything?"

"They sneak out at night, you know they do, they had that party… flagrantly breaking the
rules... and that's not to mention Lupin! I told you, he's a —" Severus broke off, breathing
hard. "You know there's something weird about him. He leaves the grounds —"

"He's ill," she said. "We've been through this, they say he's ill – "

"Every month at the full moon? Too ill for the hospital wing?"

They'd stopped walking in the middle of the courtyard, other students streaming around them.
Lily crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly. "I know your theory, and I think it's bunk."

"It is not —" Severus stopped himself, nostrils flaring.

"Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care what they're doing at night?"

"I'm just trying to show you they're not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are."

"Just because Sirius kissed me doesn't mean I think they're wonderful," said Lily, but she felt
heat spreading up her neck.

"You prefer them to Mulciber and Avery, though, don't you?"

"Of course I do! Potter and his mates don't use Dark magic!" Lily glanced around the
courtyard to make sure nobody was listening, then dropped her voice. "And you're being
really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel
by the Whomping Willow, and James Potter saved you from whatever's down there —"

Severus pulled away from her, his mouth contorting with disgust. "Saved? Saved? You think
he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends' too! You're not going to — I
won't let you —"

"Let me? Let me?"

Severus held up his hands. "Look, I didn't mean… I just don't want to see you made a fool of
— He fancies you, James Potter fancies you! And he's not… everyone thinks… big
Quidditch hero —"

Lily raised her eyebrows. "I know Potter fancies me. I don't need you to tell me that. And I
know he's an arrogant toerag. But Mulciber's and Avery's idea of humour is just evil. Evil,
Sev. I don't understand how you can be friends with them."

Her condemnation of James seemed to make Severus relax a bit. "Mulciber and Avery are
alright when you get to know them —"

Lily felt like she'd just swallowed a rock. "I can't believe you're actually defending them."

"I'm not! I'm just saying —"

"That they're not that bad?" Lily's eyes were blazing with fury. "Mulciber set an undead
kitten on Mary because her cat is missing. What part of that scenario do you find not that
bad?"

"That's not what I —"

"Don't lie," she snapped. "You knew about it. You said it was a laugh." A thought occurred to
her, and she narrowed her eyes. "I bet you know what happened to Fletcher, too, don't you?"

Severus looked at her imploringly, but she didn't back down. "Well?"

Slowly, he nodded.

"Did Mulciber kill Mary's cat, Sev?"

The gutted expression on his face was all the confirmation she needed.

"Was that a laugh, too?"

"Lily," he said pleadingly. "Come on. I didn't know what to do. I'm in over my head."

Lily regarded Severus critically, taking in his greasy black hair, his flushed, pale skin, and his
knobby limbs. He looked just like the Severus she had grown up with. Even so, she couldn't
help but feel that the scrawny boy she'd befriended as a child was gone, and in his place was
a stranger.

"You know the most disappointing thing about all this?" she said. "You don't even say you're
sorry. You just make excuses."

By the time Severus opened his mouth to respond, she had already walked away.
After eating their traditional post-full moon dinner in the kitchens, James and Peter
accompanied Remus back to Gryffindor tower. To James' great relief, the dormitory was
empty; Sirius had clearly gotten the message that he was not welcome.

James caught Remus' eyes lingering on Sirius' empty bed. "Alright, Moony?"

"Ah — yeah, fine." Remus smiled thinly and pulled his robes gingerly over his head.

"Did you tell Sirius to bugger off, then, James?" asked Peter.

James shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Haven't seen him, honestly. I think he knows
he's not wanted."

Remus raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He crawled into bed and drew the curtains,
shielding himself from view. No more noise came from Remus' corner of the room, but as
James lay awake that night, he suspected that he was not the only one having trouble
sleeping.

The next morning, James rose early for Quidditch practice. Slytherin had lost badly to
Hufflepuff, which meant Gryffindor had a chance at winning the Cup if they could beat
Ravenclaw, whose team was speedy and hard-hitting.

As he pulled on his Quidditch uniform, he couldn't help but cast a glance at Sirius' side of the
room. The robes which had lain haphazardly across Sirius' trunk were missing, as were the
textbooks on his bedside table. Apparently, Sirius had visited in the middle of the night to
grab some essentials.

James padded down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, pausing at the notice board.
An announcement about career counselling had appeared there overnight. He scanned the list
of appointment times beneath the notice; apparently, he was scheduled to meet with Professor
McGonagall after the Easter holidays.

"Reckon we've got a chance against Ravenclaw?" rasped a voice. Sirius sat up from the sofa
in front of the fireplace, shrugging off a thick red blanket.

"Sirius," said James wearily. "I'm not going to talk about Quidditch with you."

"Why not?" There was a note of defiance in Sirius' voice. "Remus isn't around, is he?"

"It's more than that," said James. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in all
directions. "I need a bit of space from you, too, mate, alright?"

Sirius' expression darkened. "So you expect me to mope around by myself, then."

"If you want to mope, that's your choice. I don't much care what you do, honestly. Just don't
do it around us."

"Us," spat Sirius. "How quickly the circle closes."

Anger flared inside James, hot and urgent, and he took a step forward. "You nearly had
someone killed," he said. "You nearly had me killed. I think spending some time alone is the
least of all the things you deserve to have happen to you."

Sirius blinked. "Alright, mate. Point taken."

"Great," said James. They looked at each other for a moment.

Sirius broke the silence first. "How long —"

"Merlin's arse, Sirius," said James. "I'm not doing this with you." He shouldered his broom
and made for the portrait hole, half-expecting Sirius to argue the point, but the common room
behind him was quiet.

In Herbology that afternoon, James Vanished the fourth chair at the table where they usually
sat, forcing Sirius to work with a group of twitchy Hufflepuffs who seemed to be unravelling
now that O.W.L.s were less than two months away.

"Got something fun planned for today," said Professor Sprout, rubbing her forehead and
leaving a smudge of dirt there. She gestured at the bucket of sticks on each table. "Who here
has heard of xylomancy?"

A few students raised their hands, Peter included. "Xylomancy is the art of predicting the
future from the arrangement of twigs," he said.

Professor Sprout pursed her lips and nodded approvingly. "Very good, Pettigrew. Two points
to Gryffindor. While most wizards consider xylomancy to be a frivolous pursuit, using
scrapings from wand wood trees can improve the accuracy of your readings. I thought it
would be a fun Friday activity, as I know your O.W.L.s are looming. If you consult page
fifty-three of your textbook, you will find instructions on basic xylomancy readings."

James kicked Peter under the table. "Since when do you volunteer in class?"

Peter gave James a smug look. "You lot always take the mickey because I'm in Divination,
but the joke's on you now. I'm going to blow your readings out of the water."

"Wish she'd have just cancelled class, if she's so worried about our mental health," said
Remus, grabbing a handful of sticks out of the bucket. "This isn't exactly a valuable use of
time, if you ask me.…"

"I'm sure my twigs will say I'm going to be wildly successful." James spread out the sticks on
the table. "This one looks like it's forming a seven — is that the number of O.W.L.s I'm going
to get?"

Peter snorted. "Not likely. Divination is more concerned with the detection and forewarning
of tragedy. I've yet to hear a single positive prediction in Vablatsky's class."

"Yeah, but this is twig magic," said James. "Hard to find anything threatening in a bunch of
old twigs."
"Peter might have a point," said Remus, poring over his book. "Looks like there's all sorts of
ways for a pair of sticks to spell death and destruction. This arrangement means 'trials ahead'
though, that's not too bad —"

"Nah, that's even worse." Peter shook his head. "It's too vague. You want to
know exactly what sort of misfortune is going to befall you, so you can prepare for it."

"Oh, I think I've got it, then," said Remus. "These twigs are saying, 'you're going to graduate
from Hogwarts just in time for wizarding Britain to be swept up in a massive blood war, good
luck with the job market.'"

James laughed, and Peter nodded encouragingly. "See, doesn't it feel better to know what
you're facing?"

"I've never felt so comforted," said Remus drily.

"You don't actually think there's going to be a war?" said a voice at the table next to them.
Mary MacDonald was looking at them curiously, one of her xylomancy twigs tucked into her
ponytail.

Next to her, Marlene yawned. "Of course there will be. Mulciber attacked you with an
undead kitten because you're a Muggle-born, and we're at Hogwarts. Safest place in magical
Britain, and all that. Imagine how much worse things are in the real world."

"Wait, Mulciber did what?" exclaimed James.

Lily looked up from her twigs at the sound of Mulciber's name. "It's true. We barely got to
Mary in time."

"He also killed Fletcher, so we're not real chuffed with him at the moment," said Marlene.

Remus looked horrified. "Not Fletcher. Are you certain?"

Mary's chin crumpled. She nodded and looked down at her sticks, blinking back tears.

"That's sick," said Peter. "He was a really clever cat, too."

"He was part-Kneazle, for sure," agreed Marlene, wrapping her arms around Mary.

"Where did Mulciber get an undead kitten, though?" said James.

Marlene rolled her eyes at him. "You know that gang he goes round with all want to be Death
Eaters. They probably thought it was funny."

"Who wants to bet they tell the examiners that during our O.W.L.s, too?" Peter dropped his
voice to imitate Mulciber's slow drawl. "'Yes, sir, I've been up all night studying, What's-His-
Name won't accept anything less than an E in Charms…'"

Mary cracked a smile at that, but James didn't laugh. Lily wasn't smiling either; she had
snapped one of her twigs to bits and was frowning at the pieces as if they were personally
responsible for Mary's attack.

After class, Lily caught James by the arm. "We need to talk," she said with a glance at Remus
and Peter. "Just us, if you don't mind."

She took him behind the greenhouse and rounded on him, planting her hands on her hips.
"You can't get revenge on Mulciber," she said firmly.

James raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because it's just going to escalate until someone gets hurt. Just like what happened with
Severus."

"Some people deserve to get what's coming to them, though," James said. "I mean, Merlin's
balls, Evans, a dead kitten…"

There was a knowing look on Lily's face. "Did Severus deserve what was coming to him?"

James might as well have stepped on one of Hagrid's rabbit snares; he realised at once that
he'd fallen into a trap. "That — I mean, yeah, but…"

"But you saved him," she said. "Now's the perfect time to let things cool off between you two
— which you'll do if you've got a fraction of sense. But if you jump right into making
Mulciber your new target, or rival, or whatever…"

She was right, and James knew it, but he didn't want to concede the point. "If you're
suggesting I just sit back and do nothing —"

"Don't put words into my mouth," she said. "I've had quite enough of that with Severus, thank
you."

"Oh, er — sorry, Lily. Really. I didn't mean to."

"I know," she said. "It's alright."

The ease with which she forgave him made him need to do something with his hands, so he
stuck them into his hair. "So what do you think I should do?"

"I think you should use that oversized brain of yours to do something good for once. Find a
way to get back at the Slytherins that doesn't involve hexing them in the corridors. Show the
other Muggle-borns at Hogwarts that bigots are the minority here. Do something, I don't
know, uplifting."

James was still stuck on the fact that she'd called his brain 'oversized'. Was that an insult or a
compliment? "Would you go out with me if I did?"

He barely managed to dodge her kick. "I'm kidding!" he said, holding up his hands in a
gesture of surrender. "But just to clarify, you're saying that you would be extremely
impressed with me if I used my powers of mischief-making to do something good for the
school."
"You're impossible," said Lily. "Don't do anything on your own. You've got no common
sense, you'll ruin it. Get Remus' approval first, he's sensible."

James grinned widely. "Ah, Evans, you still have a lot to learn. Remus is even wilder than I
am." And before she could respond, he began to stroll, whistling, towards the castle.
 The Electrical Storm

The following week marked the beginning of the Easter holidays, and Sirius Black vanished
from Hogwarts.

James knew Sirius' absence could mean only one thing — he had gone home for the holidays.
The fact that Sirius would willingly subject himself to his awful family just to appease
Remus settled like a weight in James' stomach. Despite his unease, he didn't dare broach the
subject with Remus, who had finally stopped looking askance at Sirius' bed and was now
acting as if their former mate had never existed at all.

James, on the other hand, felt Sirius' disappearance keenly; the castle was eerily quiet without
him around. The previous year, they had celebrated Easter by magically inflating a bunny
until it was the size of a large horse, then setting it loose near the greenhouses. The rabbit had
eaten every leafy green plant in Professor Sprout's vegetable patch, then hopped into the
Forbidden Forest, its huge paws leaving wide craters in the mud.

This year, in contrast, the holidays consisted mostly of James following Remus and Peter
around as they revised for their O.W.L.s. James thought he'd never been quite so familiar
with the library, save for the brief stint during their second year when they had spent weeks
sneaking into the Restricted Section after curfew to find books on Animagi.

"Go on, quiz me then, if you're so bored," Remus said irritably one day, sliding his Potions
book across the table. James looked up, startled; while Remus and Peter had been studying,
he had taken it upon himself to Transfigure Remus' wizarding chess pieces into miniature
Quidditch players, who were now speeding back and forth across the table, engaged in a
rowdy match.

"Who said I was bored? White's got some amazingly aggressive Chasers, look —"

Peter flinched as a tiny Quaffle bounced off of his forehead and landed in an inkwell. "It is a
little distracting, mate."

"Well, seeing as you lot don't want to play Quidditch with me —"

"I don't know if you've noticed," said Remus, "but not all of us can pass our O.W.L.s by
harnessing the power of positive thinking. Some of us actually have to study."

"I have to study, too," said James, crossing his arms. "By playing Quidditch. Since I'm going
to be a professional Quidditch player."

"Well, you've already got an O in being an annoying git," said Peter, "so that's one subject
taken care of, at least."

James flicked his wand, and one of the miniature Bludgers went zooming up Peter's nose. He
began to snort and cough so loudly that Madam Pince banned them from the library for the
rest of the afternoon.
On the last day of the Easter holidays, James spotted Sirius in the Gryffindor common room,
chatting with Marlene McKinnon. As James climbed through the portrait hole, Sirius' grey
eyes slid towards him. Sirius arched an eyebrow, asking a silent question — ready yet?

James shook his head in response, and Sirius' face fell. As James bounded up the stairs to the
boys' dormitory, the knot in his stomach felt like a lead weight.

The next day, he and Peter were scheduled for career counselling with Professor McGonagall
in the early afternoon, so they decided to skive off the entirety of Care of Magical Creatures
in favour of taking an extended lunch with Remus by the lake.

"What'd you talk about with Minnie?" James asked, biting into a sandwich.

Remus shrugged. "Nothing too exciting. She wanted to know what my post-Hogwarts goals
are. To tell you the truth, she didn't seem very impressed with my level of ambition."

James and Peter exchanged glances. "Did you do that thing where you insist you won't be
able to hold a job after Hogwarts?" said Peter. "Because you know we think that's —"

"It's not rubbish," said Remus, tearing his sandwich into bits. "It's the truth. When I don't
show up for a couple of days every month… when people figure out the pattern…"

"You just need a job where you can set your own schedule," said James. "Become a travelling
salesman or something. Did Minnie have any ideas?"

"She had one," said Remus darkly. "And it was terrible. She offered me a position at
Hogwarts." His expression indicated that death was preferable to becoming a teacher.

"But that's not terrible at all!" said Peter. "Seems very reasonable to me, actually."

"Yeah," said James, nodding. "Since we know Dumbledore's fine about your furry little
problem, and you've already got the Shrieking Shack set up. Makes a lot of sense that you'd
work here after graduating."

"You don't get it," said Remus. He looked down at his sandwich, seeming surprised that it
was torn apart, and began to put the pieces in his mouth. "I'd be around children. If something
happens again, the way things happened with Snape…"

"That was a fluke," growled James. "You've gone five years without an issue, and the Snape
thing only happened because Sirius interfered. You're not normally a danger, Moony."

Remus snorted. "Right. I'm not a danger, except for once a month when I turn into a creature
whose entire purpose is to consume human flesh. It's not safe for me to be here, you can't
convince me that it is, not after —"

"Well, McGonagall's not offering you the job right this second," interrupted Peter. "You still
have a couple of years to think about it."

"I'm not going to change my mind," said Remus. "I already told her so."
"Moony, I hate to say it, but Pete's right," said James. "You don't have to decide now. Just let
the idea percolate a bit, and you can come back to it in a few years, after our N.E.W.T.s." He
checked his watch. "We need to get going if we're gonna make it on time. Ready, Pete?"

After they reached the first floor, Peter's appointment lasted barely ten minutes. He emerged
from Professor McGonagall's office and gave James the thumbs-up.

"Told her I'm gonna be a House-Elf Relocation Officer," he said. "Like my mum.
McGonagall seemed to think I could do better, but…" He shrugged. "They only want two
O.W.L.s, so I figure it's a safe bet."

"Way to underachieve, Pete," said James, smacking his back.

Peter grinned. "Your turn to let her down next."

James strolled into the office, hands in his pockets, and plunked into the chair in front of
Professor McGonagall's desk. "You called, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall inclined her head a little. "Potter. As I'm sure you're aware, the
purpose of this meeting is to provide guidance before your O.W.L.s, so that you may have
some idea of the career path you wish to follow."

"Easy," said James at once. "I'm going to be a professional Quidditch player."

Professor McGonagall's lips tightened into a tiny semblance of a smile. "I thought you might
say something like that. Have you ever considered any… alternative options?"

"Sure," said James, ticking them off his fingers. "Quidditch commentator… Quidditch
analyst… Quidditch team manager, though I don't think I have the organisational skills for
that one…"

"I meant something outside the realm of Quidditch," said Professor McGonagall, who looked
like she was beginning to get a headache.

James looked at her blankly. "Why would I want to do anything other than Quidditch?"

"Potter," said Professor McGonagall, massaging one of her temples, "your father consults
with the Ministry. Surely you know what the political climate is like right now?"

"Er," said James, "yeah, sort of. I mean, everyone's getting worked up about that pure-blood
rubbish, and there's a mysterious Dark wizard who's goading people on, right?"

"That is the gist of it." Professor McGonagall seemed relieved that James wasn't completely
oblivious to the world around him. "The headmaster believes that the current attacks and
skirmishes will devolve into a full-fledged war. With this in mind, it is important for talented
individuals — people like you — to position themselves appropriately. You excel at
Transfiguration — you would have no trouble landing a job as an Unspeakable at the
Ministry, creating weapons to fight, if you so choose."
"I can fight by playing Quidditch," said James. At the look on McGonagall's face, he added,
"I mean, keeping people entertained is important, too, right? Especially if there's going to be
a war, like you said."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes and took a breath before responding. "Potter, you
know that I am as much a fan of Quidditch as you are. But Quidditch will always remain a
mere sport. I am speaking of something bigger."

James' mouth fell open. He hadn't thought Professor McGonagall believed in anything bigger
than Quidditch. It was why they got along so well.

"If you insist on pursuing a career in Quidditch, then I cannot stop you," continued Professor
McGonagall. "But I must reiterate — this is a time to act. To put the skills you take for
granted to good use."

"You sound like Lily Evans," said James. "She told me to use my oversized brain for the
greater good."

The corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched. "Miss Evans is wise beyond her
years."

After James left Professor McGonagall's office, his mind swirled as he headed to Defence
Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall had known about his Quidditch ambitions
since his first year at Hogwarts, and she had loved him for it. She'd encouraged him — she
was the one who had made him Captain when it was only his fifth year! Hearing her say that
she expected him to do something bigger with his life made no sense. And yet…

"Good news, lads," James, plopping down beside Remus and Peter. "We've been given a job
to do."

On Saturday morning, Lily was eating breakfast with Marlene and Mary when a huge flock
of owls swooped into the Great Hall, clutching multicoloured pamphlets in their talons and
beaks. The hall filled with murmurs, punctuated by the occasional shriek as the owls soared
low over the tables, clipping students with their wings. A large barn owl glided over the
heads of the Gryffindors and released its many papers from its talons, scattering them across
the table.

"What the…" Marlene picked up a leaflet that had fallen into her pumpkin juice. It was
dazzling, flashing all different colours of the rainbow. On its front, it read in bubble letters:

SO YOU WANT TO BE A DEATH EATER?

Mary flipped open the nearest pamphlet, face pale, but after a moment of reading, she began
to giggle.
"What's so funny?" demanded Lily.

"Oh, this is gold." Marlene tossed her pamphlet to Lily, who opened it.

Are you tired of studying Charms when you could be studying Curses?

Do you not need an O in Divs for your Inner Eye to see that you're better than
everybody else?

Consider giving wizarding Britain the two-fingered salute and joining the Death Eaters!

All you need is the soul of a Dementor, a superiority complex, and a passing score on
your E.V.I.L.s (Exacting Villainous Intelligence Levels)! Practising Dark Magic was
never so easy!

The E.V.I.L.s will be administered at four o'clock in Dungeon One. No revising required
— just bring yourself, your quill, and a willingness to squash underfoot anyone who
interferes with your rise to power!

The test will be followed by a meet-and-greet with the Dark Lord himself!

"This can't be real," said Lily, flipping the leaflet over to see if anything was hidden on the
other side.

"'Course it's not," said Marlene. "But you can bet every Galleon in Gringotts that I'm gonna
be taking my E.V.I.L.s this afternoon."

"Considering a career change, then, McKinnon?" called James from down the table, looking
very pleased with himself. Beside him, Remus and Peter nodded their approval.

"Thinking about it," said Marlene. "Whoever made this pamphlet was very convincing."

"I can't wait to meet What's-His-Name," said Mary, her eyes wide. "I have so many questions
for him."

"Now, now, Mary." Remus reached across the table to pat her hand. "I'm sure Whatever-He's-
Called will be happy to answer you as best he can."

"They say he's extremely accommodating," agreed Peter. "I've only heard good things."

On impulse, Lily glanced at the Slytherin table. A pamphlet was crumpled in Severus' fist,
and his lightless eyes looked murderous. She wanted to cross the Great Hall and tell him to
lighten up, that it was just a joke.

But what if it's not? asked a voice in her head. Not to him, at least.

Dungeon One contained a central podium surrounded by many rows of tiered seats, which
were just barely enough to accommodate all of the students who crammed into the room to
take their E.V.I.L.s. Three hooded figures wearing badges labelled 'DEATH EATER' directed
students to available seats and passed out quills to those who didn't have them. Lily, Marlene,
and Mary were ushered to chairs near the front, close to the podium.

Once most of the students had been seated, one of the hooded figures jumped onto the desk at
the centre of the podium, nearly unbalancing a stack of papers as he did so.

"Witches and warlocks, aspiring agents of barbarity, welcome to your E.V.I.L.s!" cried the
Death Eater, sounding suspiciously like James Potter. "Those who pass will be added to our
ranks. Not to worry, though — if you don't prove evil enough for the Death Eaters, we're sure
we can find you a life of petty crime that will fill your rotten little heart with joy and
purpose!"

A second Death Eater joined the first on the podium.

"The exam will be graded as follows," said the Death Eater, who seemed to have Remus'
voice. He waved his wand, and writing appeared on the blackboard behind him.

EXACTING VILLAINOUS IQ LEVELS

Pass Grades

Obscene (O)

Extremely Excessive (E)

Awful (A)

Fail Grades

Priggish (P)

Dull (D)

Tryhard (T)

"You have half an hour to complete the test," said the first Death Eater from atop the desk.
"When you receive your exam, you may begin!"

A third, shorter Death Eater scrambled onto the podium and turned over a large hourglass on
the desk. As grains of sand began to fall, the Death Eaters flourished their wands in unison,
sending copies of the exam swirling about the room.

Lily snatched an exam out of the air, turned it over, and scratched her name at the top. The
first question read:

You, a follower of the Dark Lord, are tasked with wiping out a segment of the population. Do
you first target a) people who eat with their mouth open, b) people who like clowns, or c) the
clowns themselves? Discuss.
Lily smiled and began to compose her response. Beside her, Marlene was grinning from ear
to ear as she filled out her exam.

By the time Lily finished her E.V.I.L.s, there were only a few grains of sand left in the
hourglass, and the room was filling with whispers as students compared answers.

"And that's it, time's up!" announced the first Death Eater from the podium. He waved his
wand to collect the exams, which zoomed towards him and formed a haphazard pile atop the
desk.

"An impartial Dark artefact will grade your exams," said the second Death Eater, pulling a
long, dark quill from beneath his robes. "This quill has been cursed to recognise villainous
potential and give feedback accordingly."

"While you are waiting for your E.V.I.L.s to be graded, we suggest you have a chat with our
fearless leader," continued the first Death Eater. "I am proud to present to you our malevolent
master, the Darkest of wizards himself, the one, the only… LORD WHAT'S-HIS-NAME!"

The third, shortest Death Eater emerged from a door at the back of the room, carrying
something large and rectangular that was covered in cloth. He set the object carefully atop the
desk, then pulled off the cloth, revealing what was underneath.

It was a painting of a wizard, but it was the most poorly-done portrait Lily had ever seen. It
looked like modern art, though she was certain that wasn't the intention. The wizard's eyes
were different sizes and pointed in different directions, and his mouth was a mere squiggle.
He attempted to twirl his wand, which was little more than a line, but his fingers were
misshapen and lumpy, like sausages, and his wand fell to the bottom of the painting. Titters
spread through the room as students surged forward to get a better look.

"Merlin above," said Marlene, pushing past a group of Ravenclaws in an attempt to get closer
to the front. Beside her, Mary was covering her mouth in a fruitless attempt to stop giggling.
"James and his mates really are rubbish at painting, aren't they?"

"Hello, Lord Whatever-Your-Name-Is," said Sally Dearborn, a sixth year Gryffindor who was
first to reach the portrait. "This is quite the honour. I've heard rumours about your hideous
appearance, but I never expected you to look quite so…"

"Intimidating?" said Lord What's-His-Name, whose voice was high and a bit babyish. He did
a little twirl inside the painting, but his legs were uneven, so he stumbled a bit.

"Yeah," said Sally. "That's the word I was looking for. Intimidating."

As Lily, Mary, and Marlene reached the painting, the first Death Eater waved them over,
lowering his hood.

"Terrifying, isn't he?" asked James, jerking a thumb towards the portrait. "Never
underestimate Peter's sheer lack of artistic ability."
"It's impressively bad," agreed Marlene. The third Death Eater turned at her words, and
though Lily couldn't see under his hood, she was positive he was beaming.

"Where's Sirius?" Mary craned her head and looked around at the crowd. "Thought there
would be a fourth Death Eater here today…"

"Detention," said James at once. "Poor bloke's missing out on all the fun. Thoughts, Evans?"

"Promise that you'll never attempt a portrait of me," said Lily.

Lord What's-His-Name's lopsided eyes bulged out at her. "I am the scourge of Britain!"
squeaked the painting. "Fear my power!" He wiggled his noodly limbs at her, which was not
remotely threatening.

"Wanna hear the pièce de résistance?" said James, gesturing for her to come closer. "When
we're done, we're planning on hanging him in Dumbledore's office."

It took another thirty minutes for the black quill to finish grading the stack of exams, by
which time most students had been able to interact with the painting to their heart's content.
To Lily's amusement, Lord What's-His-Name refused to make any slurs against Muggle-
borns, opting instead to rant about clowns using epithets that grew steadily more absurd.

"Your results, then, Evans," said James, putting his hood back on. Lily took her exam from
him and unrolled it carefully. The word Tryhard was scrawled in red across the top of the
parchment, followed by several sentences in varied handwriting, despite having come from
the same enchanted quill.

Mr J.F.P., Death Eater, would like to offer his condolences to Miss Evans on failing her
E.V.I.L.s. He would also like the record to show that he believes she deserves a perfect mark
on anything she attempts, and it was only the interference of his so-called colleagues that
prevented a passing score.

Mr R.J.L., Death Eater, is certain Miss Evans will agree that having red hair and being pretty
is not good enough evidence that one deserves perfect marks on their exams.

Mr P.P.P., Death Eater, would like to add that Miss Evans shouldn't take her failure
personally, as her friend Mary MacDonald scored even more poorly than she did.

"Ha!" said Marlene, scanning her exam. "I got an O! Wizarding Britain better watch out!"

"Congratulations on becoming a Death Eater," said Remus from beneath his Death Eater
hood. He handed her a shining, rainbow badge that read 'I got an O on my E.V.I.L.s!'.

"Better luck next time, Evans." James held out a different badge, which flashed with the
words 'I failed my E.V.I.L.s!'.

"I deserved better than a T, and you know it," said Lily, but she took the badge anyway. "I'm
incredibly mischievous! I should have passed!"
"You've never had more than three detentions in your life, plus you're a prefect," said Remus.
"That doesn't scream Dark wizard to me. Marlene, on the other hand…"

Marlene preened as she affixed the rainbow badge to her robes. "How'd you get that quill to
write with your personalities, anyway? I'm assuming you modified an Auto-Answer Quill,
but beyond that…"

"We told you," said Peter innocently. "It's a Dark artefact. Probably created by You-Know-
Who himself."

As students began to file out, James pulled Lily aside before she could leave the dungeon.
"So what did you think? Was that a morale-booster or what?"

Lily raised her eyebrows. "My failing mark aside, it wasn't a bad effort. I do have one
suggestion, though."

James crossed his arms and tilted his chin at her. "Go on, then, Miss I-Got-A-T. Impress me."

"You said you were going to put Lord What's-His-Name in Dumbledore's office, but I can
think of a better place," she said. "The Slytherin common room, for instance."

James gaped at her. "You're right," he said once he'd recovered the power of speech. "And
you don't think that will… escalate things with the Slytherins?"

"How could it possibly?" she said. "If they get upset and retaliate, they're as good as
admitting that they idolise the Dark Lord. And that's a one-way ticket to expulsion — even
Mulciber's not that stupid."

"You did deserve an O," he said. "That's the most devious plan I've heard all year."

"I try," said Lily, winking at him. James blinked in surprise, and a goofy smile spread across
his face.

She took the opportunity to skip out of the classroom, glad he couldn't see her grin.

Bella found Severus in Dungeon Thirteen, practising his new spell on a jar of pickled toads.
"Brutal," she said lightly as he pointed his wand at yet another hapless amphibian, splitting its
rubbery flesh with the ease of cutting soft butter.

"I should hope so," snapped Severus. He Vanished the remains of the toad and plucked
another out of the jar.

"Does this have anything to do with the incident at the Whomping Willow?" she asked.

"Perhaps." He slashed his wand through the air until the toad was no longer recognisable.
Bella picked up the toad by what had previously been one of its legs. She made a face as it
dangled in the air in front of her. "Should I take this to mean that you have not managed to
capture a werewolf?"

"I'm going in a different direction," said Severus, holding out his hand. She dropped the toad
into it. "Werewolves are resistant to the more common forms of offensive magic. Hence this
spell."

"I see," she said. "You're turning your focus to defensive magic."

"Not necessarily," he said. "I'm thinking of this spell as simply… battle magic. For use
against those who you do not mind killing."

"For enemies," said Bella softly.

Severus nodded. "It's not perfect yet. When I get it right, the spell will be like a hot knife. It
will cut through even the toughest flesh. Werewolves, troll skin, giant hide…"

"In other words," she said, "it will be an excellent tool to recruit those who might need
persuasion."

Severus pulled another toad out of the jar. "Do you…" He paused, turning over the toad in his
hands. "Do you think this spell will be sufficient? Or should I look elsewhere for my
pledge?"

She smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "You have never disappointed me yet, Sev. I'm sure
Lucius — and the Dark Lord — will be very pleased."

Severus exhaled a little, then placed the toad on the table in front of him and readied his
wand. Bella watched him, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, she cocked her head to the side
and looked shrewdly at him.

"Would you like to learn something new?"

"That depends." He rent the toad's skin with a sickening squelch. "I find some of the things
we have learned… distasteful. The Inferi, for instance."

"This won't be like that at all," she assured him. "I think you'll enjoy it, in fact. It's proper
magic, old magic. It will give you an edge in combat and when dealing with others."

Severus' lip turned up at the corner. "I could use some help in dealing with others."

"I shall speak to Lucius," said Bella. "I will have to ask his permission. But I think he'll agree
that you're a good candidate. What do you say?"

Severus Vanished the unfortunate toad. "I'm in."

Later that week, Bella found him on the fifth-floor corridor and dragged him behind a statue
of Boris the Bewildered. "Lucius said yes," she told him, her eyes shining. "He gave
permission. Are you free this evening, after dinner?"
Severus shrugged. "We — Avery, Mulciber, and I — have plans to work on a Defence essay
in the library…"

"Blow them off," said Bella, waving her hand. "Tell them you're with me, they'll understand.
I'll meet you in Dungeon Thirteen, alright?"

He nodded, and Bella pulled him into a brief hug. "I'm so excited," she whispered into his ear.
"You are going to love this."

Before he could respond, she darted out from behind the statue, joining the throng of students
making their way to class.

When Severus arrived at Dungeon Thirteen that evening, Bella was perched in one of the
white armchairs, wrapped in a red silk robe embroidered with cherry blossoms and sipping
from a teacup.

"Tea?" she asked, indicating the china set on the pouffe beside her. Severus nodded, settling
into an armchair and pouring himself a cup. "I told you this would be more civilised than
making Inferi," she said, winking at him.

"So far, at least," he said drily.

"To business, then," she said, draining the last of her tea. "Have you heard of a branch of
magic called Occlumency?"

Severus shook his head and Bella smiled, flashing her white, square teeth at him. "I didn't
think so. It's old, obscure, and difficult to master. Right up your alley, if you ask me."

"What's the point?"

"Occlumency shields your mind from intrusion," she explained. "There's a different sort of
magic — Legilimency — that grants access to the mind of another. If you've mastered
Occlumency, the Legilimens can still rifle through your mind, but he will see only what you
want him to see, and he'll be none the wiser."

A thought struck Severus. "Is Legilimency how you always know when we're not telling the
truth?"

Bella's smile grew wider. "It's not quite as complicated as that. Teenage boys are simply
hopeless liars." She barked a laugh.

"So how do I use Occlumency?" asked Severus. "Is there a spell?"

"No." Bella drew her wand, and the motion sent the embroidered cherry blossoms on her
robes swirling, as if they had been disturbed by wind. "You must simply discipline your
mind. Conceal your secrets so completely that they are even hidden from yourself."

She leaned forward and cupped his chin in her hand, her grey eyes boring into his. "Get
ready," she said softly. "One, two, three… Legilimens."
At once, Severus' mind was filled with memories. He was three and wearing a dirty shirt and
sagging cloth diaper, the only clothes he owned… he was seven, and his father was striking
his mother… he was nine and watching a girl with flaming red hair swing through the air,
higher, higher…

The sound of shattering china brought Severus out of his reverie. He had dropped his teacup.

"No matter," said Bella calmly. She pointed her wand at the shards scattered across the plush
white rug, and the teacup mended itself, jumping back into his hand. "Let's try again," she
said, pouring him more tea.

"Did you…" began Severus. "Were you able to see the same things I did?"

"Yes," said Bella simply. She looked at him plainly, without pity or embarrassment. "There is
shame associated with those memories. Shame is a strong emotion; it is easy to pull such
memories to the surface of the mind. You must learn to treat your secrets with indifference, as
if they belonged to someone else. That is how you hide them."

She leaned forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose once more. "We will try again," she
said. "Legilimens."

A boy much bigger than Severus was punching him in the mouth… His father was laughing
at him… He felt the shame welling up in him and tried to bury it, to feel indifferent, to feel
safe…

His mum was creeping into his room in the middle of the night, healing his tooth with a
grimy old wand, a finger to her lips… now Lily was the one shushing him as they crouched
in the bushes, hiding from Petunia… he was watching McGonagall place the Sorting Hat on
Lily's head, heart sinking as the hat shouted "Gryffindor!"… Lily was taking him by the arm
outside Slughorn's office, sending thrills up his spine…

Severus blinked and came back to himself. Bella had lowered her wand, brow furrowed.

"I wasn't aware you had such a history with your Mudblood friend," she said quietly. "I
thought you two met at Hogwarts. I didn't know that you were childhood friends as well."

"It doesn't matter," said Severus quickly. "It's not — it doesn't interfere with…"

"You don't understand," said Bella impatiently. "You must learn to suppress these thoughts.
Your family history will surprise nobody who peruses your mind, but your feelings for the
Mudblood are a great weakness. If the wrong sort of person found out, if someone like
Lucius became aware…" She let the sentence dangle ominously.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I am your mentor," she said, taking his face in her hand again. "What I learn about you does
not leave this room." She raised her wand. "Discipline your mind. Do not let thoughts of the
Mudblood tempt you into giving away your secrets. You do not wear your emotions on your
sleeve; so it should be with your mind. Legilimens."
This time, Severus tried a different tactic. He allowed his mind to jump from association to
association without dwelling on the memories that arose. His father was advancing on him,
brandishing his belt like a whip… his father became Lily, striding towards him in the
Forbidden Forest, wand out… Lily became James, who became Sirius, pinning him to the
infirmary cot, who became his father again, who became Mulciber.

The images gathered speed until one was barely distinguishable from another. The memories
began to fade from view, and Bella's eyes came into focus, clearer and clearer until all he saw
were her large grey eyes, close enough that he could count her individual lashes.

Severus pulled back, breaking their connection. "Based only on what you have just seen," he
said, "how would you describe my feelings about Lily Evans?"

Bella cocked her head, considering the question. A smile began to play about her lips. "I don't
know," she said. "It's a start."

As the weather grew warmer, April gave way to May, and Remus showed no signs of
forgiving Sirius. Whenever Sirius was in their vicinity, which was increasingly rare, Remus
ignored him completely, as if their former mate was a special kind of ghost that not even
wizards could see. James would occasionally bring up Sirius' name in conversation to see if
Remus was softening, but these attempts were fruitless; Remus would merely go
conveniently deaf and change the subject to their approaching O.W.L.s.

Sirius, for his part, was becoming harder and harder to locate. He no longer attended class
regularly, and had stopped showing up for History of Magic entirely. Occasionally, James
would pass him in a corridor, but no matter how much James tried to make eye contact, to
convey his remorse that things had gone this far, Sirius refused to look at him.

It was with this in mind that James sat in History of Magic, doodling in the margins of his
parchment and trying not to glance at Sirius' empty seat. It was unusually hot outside, and the
heat seemed to seep into the classroom, stifling him. Between the drone of Professor Binns'
voice, the oppressive stillness of the air, and Sirius' increasingly conspicuous absence, James
was ready to drive his own quill through his head.

A loud crack jolted him out of his reverie. He'd pressed down on his parchment too hard,
snapping his quill.

"Tell us how you really feel, mate," said Peter, handing him another.

"What are we even doing here?" muttered James. "This entire lesson is a waste of time.
Goblin wars, my arse. Sirius had the right idea — " He broke off, looking at Remus guiltily.

Remus smiled slightly and continued to take notes. "I expect things will become rather more
interesting before long."
"Oh yeah?" asked James. "How's that?"

There was a rumble in the distance, like a far-off train.

"Well," said Remus, "I subscribe to the Daily Prophet, which I believe you're quite fond of
mocking me for."

"And rightly so," said Peter. "You're damaging our reputation with a goody-goody habit like
that."

Remus continued as if he hadn't heard. "You may not be aware of this, having never read the
paper yourself, but newspapers have an awful lot of different sections. A weather forecast, for
instance."

James scoffed. "Who needs a forecast when we've got the Great Hall?"

"That's the thing," said Remus. "As the weather grows warmer, a specific kind of
meteorological event tends to occur under certain conditions. And the Daily Prophet has
predicted that we are due for one such event this afternoon."

"Fascinating," said James sarcastically. "I can tell that your subscription is a Knut well spent
—"

A second rumble, rather louder than the first, shook the room, and James came to a
realisation. "Oh."

"Oh," echoed Peter.

Remus smiled to himself as he began a new paragraph on his parchment. "Exactly."

"Are we —" began Peter, looking frantically at James.

"Well, we have to, don't we?" James swept his things into his bag. "Quick, jinx me, and we
can get out of here."

"With what jinx?" asked Peter, scrambling for his wand. "Come on, James, I'm blanking here
—"

Remus drew his wand from his sleeve and flicked it at Peter. "Prandium Emitus."

Immediately, Peter began to retch, clutching his stomach as the partially-digested contents of
his lunch sprayed across their desks.

James took the opportunity to leap to his feet. "Erm, excuse me, Professor!" he called.

Every head in the class swivelled towards him. Professor Binns paused his lecture, blinking
as he peered through his glasses at James.

"Yes, Potter?"
"Sorry to interrupt, but Peter's quite ill," explained James, wrapping an arm around Peter's
waist. "Think it's best if I help him down to the infirmary. Right this second. Really can't
wait."

"Right... yes, yes, naturally," said Professor Binns, sounding somewhat dazed. "Feel better,
Pettigrew..." He looked back down at his notes, squinting. "As I was saying, when Agrok the
Atrocious set foot upon the battlefield…"

As soon as James and Peter reached the corridor, they broke into a sprint.

"Where are we going?" panted Peter, still holding his stomach.

"Dormitory," said James. "To get our potions. Then to the second floor, to the statue of
Cornelia the Unbalanced. The one that leads to the grotto by the lake."

They burst into their dorms, and James brandished his wand at his bedside table.
"Alohomora!"

"Not so fast," came an echo of his own voice. "Password?"

"Operation: Safari Park," said James, and the drawer sprung open with a bang. Inside, nestled
in a black cloth, were the three small vials of potion.

"You put a password on it?" asked Peter incredulously. "I wasn't going to peek…"

"It wasn't just for you," said James. "The potions had to remain undisturbed. Couldn't afford
to take chances." He scooped up two of the vials, leaving the one in the middle.

"Shouldn't we…" began Peter, staring at the lone vial remaining in the drawer.

"No point." James felt a pang of remorse as the words left his mouth. "There's no way that
Sirius has kept up with the incantations. Besides, we don't even know where he is, and we
don't have time to wait."

He handed Peter one of the vials and stuffed the other in his bag. He didn't bother to shut the
drawer before running out of the room, Peter at his heels. They tore through the castle,
knocking over suits of armour and nearly tumbling down the stairs in their haste to get to the
second floor.

James reached the statue of Cornelia the Unbalanced first and quickly traced an inappropriate
word on the statue's forehead with his wand. As he finished, the base of the statue shifted,
revealing a hole in the floor.

Down the tunnel they went. The air grew damp and warm as they descended; at last, the
mouth of the tunnel widened, opening into the grotto.

Remus was standing on a mossy rock where the grotto met the edge of the lake, his head
tilted towards the rain. "Beautiful place, this," he said lightly, but his hands were trembling.
"Good spot for it, too," said Peter nervously as a flash of lightning illuminated the damp
stone walls. "It's got land and water, plus it's open to air… whatever we become, it'll —"

A rumble of thunder drowned out the rest of his words.

"That's enough stalling, I expect," said James, drawing his vial from the pocket of his robes.
The crimson liquid inside had turned a deep brown. His pulse accelerated, and he thought he
could feel a second heartbeat matching time with his own, each beat stronger and more
forceful than the last.

Peter had one hand pressed against his chest while the other clutched his potion, which had
turned a sandy beige. He glanced anxiously at James. "Do you feel that?"

"Yeah," said James. His second heartbeat was thumping loudly, becoming more insistent by
the second, threatening to overtake his human heart.

"Mine's so fast," said Peter, massaging his chest. "Really not the best feeling…"

"This ought to make it better," said James, clinking Peter's vial against his own. "Cheers,
mate."

Peter nodded, face white, and the two boys downed the potion.

Immediately, a clap of thunder sounded. Rising above the bone-shaking rumble was a
cacophony of wild cries, the sounds of animals great and small, and then there was silence.
 Amato Animo Animato Animagus

The first thing James noticed was that he had grown quite tall. The second was that his head
was very heavy.

Remus approached him cautiously, eyes wide. "Merlin's bleeding… James, mate.
Bloody hell."

James pawed the ground with one of his hooves — hooves! He had hooves! — and dipped
his head, allowing Remus to scratch the fur there. Remus' hand drifted towards his ear,
knocking against something hard — horns, maybe? James tilted his head, giving Remus what
he hoped was a quizzical look.

Remus' face broke into a grin, and he wrapped his arms around James' long neck. "You're a
stag, mate! A bloody stag! Beautiful creature, too." His breath hitched, and James' nostrils
flared as he caught the tang of salt drifting through the air.

"Thank you," said Remus, burying his face in James' fur. "Thank you. Thank you."

After a long moment, he drew back, wiping his eyes. Reaching up, he grabbed James' antlers
to bring the stag's face level with his own.

"I've had three long years to come up with all sorts of humiliating nicknames for your animal
forms," he said, beaming.

James let out a low whinny in protest.

"Oh, yes," said Remus. "I've got names for every animal under the sun. 'Moony' is a bit of an
unkind nickname, you know — I figure it's only right to return the favour. Why don't we call
you… Prongs?" His grin became wicked. "You know. Because you're horny."

James snorted loudly and tossed his head, forcing Remus backwards.

"'Prongs' is a perfect nickname, and you know it," said Remus. "You're sixteen years old, and
you've got antlers. You are the definition of horny."

Something nearby squeaked, and a plump rat with sandy fur scurried up Remus' robes and
onto his shoulder.

"Pete!" Remus grabbed the rat and cradled it in his hands. "Look at you! I think I might
prefer you like this, honestly…"

The rat chittered, clearly offended, and tried to wriggle free of Remus' grasp.

"You're a little less conspicuous than Prongs here, at least," said Remus, placing Peter in the
pocket of his robes. "What do you say, Wormtail? Comfortable?"
The lump in Remus' pocket shifted and grew. The rat tumbled out, landing on the ground; in
the blink of an eye, Peter was sprawled in front of them.

"Wormtail?" said Peter incredulously, dusting off his knees. "What sort of name
is Wormtail?"

"Oh, there's loads more where that came from," said Remus jauntily, mussing Peter's hair. "I
wouldn't push my luck, if I were you."

"I spent years becoming an Animagus to keep your lonely wolf arse company, and this is the
thanks I get," scoffed Peter, but he didn't seem too put out. "Wormtail. Honestly."

The talking between the humans was beginning to bore James. He wanted to move, to stretch
his new, powerful muscles. He snorted, startling both Remus and Peter, and broke into a trot,
leaving the grotto in favour of the sloping bank that curved around the Black Lake. He
quickened his pace to a canter, then a full-on gallop, his sides heaving with effort. The
drizzling rain soaked his fur as he raced around the lake, but he didn't care; his thoughts were
less human, more wild.

After three laps around the lake, his flanks heaved with effort, and he slowed to a canter as he
returned to the grotto. He gulped air into his lungs and pictured himself walking with human
legs; as soon as he had the thought, he began to shrink. His head grew lighter — much lighter
— and suddenly he was bipedal once more, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

"Have a nice jog?" asked Remus, steadying him.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" said James, still panting.

It was the happiest Remus had looked in five years. "Why, yes. Yes, I am."

"Erm, not to be a spoilsport," said Peter, checking his watch, "but we still have Charms
before dinner."

"Bugger Charms," said James grandly. "We can turn into animals on command. Let's go get
pissed in the dormitory."

"Here, here," said Peter enthusiastically, and Remus nodded in agreement.

As James led the way through the tunnel to the second floor, he couldn't help but cast a
backwards glance at the grotto. He wondered what sort of nicknames Remus had thought up
for Sirius.

Best not to wonder about that, he decided, shaking himself a bit and continuing through the
tunnel.

"When's the next full moon?" asked Peter as they climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"Next Thursday," said Remus automatically.

"Brilliant," said James, pushing the door open. "Less than a week to wait, then —"
He froze, and Peter collided with his back. A shaggy black dog the size of a bear was lying
on Remus' bed.

"A Grim," said Peter immediately. "Merlin save us, a Grim —"

James' mind began to race, recalling childhood stories of hounds whose very presence
foretold disaster. He'd had a second cousin who'd slipped off her broomstick after seeing a
Grim; at the funeral, his relatives had whispered about a big black dog when they thought he
wasn't listening.

Remus stepped forward, a look of complete shock on his face. The dog raised its huge head,
staring at Remus with mournful grey eyes. It thumped its tail hopefully.

"Sirius?"

The dog let out a little whine and thumped its tail harder.

Remus and the dog looked at each other for a moment. Then Remus darted forward.

James reached for his wand, thinking Remus was going to attack the dog. Instead, Remus
landed roughly on top of it, embracing it and ruffling its fur.

The dog barked loudly and began to lick Remus' face.

"You're a Padfoot," said Remus. "A Padfoot!"

"A what?" asked Peter, sitting on his own bed and eyeing the dog warily.

"It's what my dad calls hellhounds," explained Remus as the dog rolled onto its back. "It's
another name for a Grim. You great, hairy omen of death… Gave us quite a fright, didn't
you?" And he scratched the dog's stomach vigorously.

"All's forgiven, then, I suppose?" asked James once he had recovered the power of speech.

Remus paused and glanced at the dog, who looked suddenly guilty. It shifted uncomfortably,
and then Sirius was sitting next to Remus, their shoulders touching.

"Erm, about that." Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "I think, maybe — we ought to talk. I
mean…" he glanced at James and Peter, looking extremely self-conscious. "Moony, can we
go somewhere… private? I want to, erm, apologise, and I think it would be better if we…
that is…"

"Somewhere private sounds good," said Remus graciously, ignoring Sirius' obvious
discomfort. "There's a room on the seventh floor that'll be perfect, I'll show you…"

James and Peter looked at each other as soon as Remus and Sirius left the dormitory.

"Well, that could have been worse," said Peter.

James nodded. "I've never heard Sirius apologise for anything before. Hopefully once they're
alone, he'll sound less like a stammering idiot…"

"I doubt it." Peter pulled a couple of bottles full of dark liquid out from under his mattress.
"Firewhisky?"

They had finished the first bottle of Firewhisky and were well through the second by the time
the door of the dormitory swung back open. Remus walked in, followed by the enormous
black dog.

"So?" asked Peter, draining his glass. "Didja kiss and make up, then?"

"Something along those lines." Remus smiled. "It's difficult to stay angry at Padfoot here.
He's a very good boy, aren't you, Pads?"

The dog let out a joyful woof.

Later that evening, Sirius and James were sprawled on James' bed, trying to make their
ceiling look like the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Sirius eventually stowed his wand
and rolled over to look at James, his expression earnest. "Thanks for leaving the drawer open,
mate."

"Er, that was an accident," said James. He glanced reflexively across the room at Remus, who
appeared to be thoroughly absorbed in his Potions homework.

"Right, sure it was." Sirius stretched, yawning. There was a rustle at James' side and Sirius,
as Padfoot, curled up against his legs.

"You kept up with the incantations, didn't you?" murmured James, scratching between the
dog's ears. "Even though we didn't speak to you for the better part of a month."

The dog bobbed its head in response.

"I must admit, I'm impressed," said James in a low voice. "Didn't think you had the
discipline. Then again," he added as Padfoot gave him a baleful look, "you did end up
transforming into a dog. Man's best friend and all that. If that's not a demonstration of loyalty,
I dunno what is."

The dog let out a satisfied-sounding snort and stood up. It hopped off James' bed and joined
Remus in his. Remus didn't look up from his homework as Padfoot snuggled next to him, but
he did wrap an arm around the dog's neck, petting him almost absentmindedly as he turned
the pages of his book.

James caught Peter's eye, and they smiled at each other. Then he laid back in bed, folding his
arms behind his head and smiling contentedly at their half-enchanted ceiling. All was as it
should be.
A horrible portrait of the Dark Lord had appeared in the Slytherin common room over the
weekend, and the House was divided over whether or not it was in good taste. Most seemed
to regard the painting as a vaguely amusing prank; Severus, of course, loathed the very sight
of it, as he had a hunch about who its creators were. The other Intents found the portrait
extremely disrespectful, and Bella nearly had a fit when she realised that not even Avery
could un-stick the painting from the wall.

As a result, Bella began to treat the Intents even more harshly, as if they personally had a
hand in the creation of the portrait. She made them clean the common room using their own
robes for rags nearly every night, much to Severus' exasperation. Unlike the other, pure-blood
Intents, he only owned a few pairs of hand-me-down robes, and the constant use made them
even more threadbare than they were already.

Bella's intensity expanded to Occlumency training, as well; she insisted that Severus spend
every weekday evening practising with her, heedless of the fact that his O.W.L.s were less
than a month away. Between the daily activities of the Intents, the weekly rituals, and now
the Occlumency lessons, Severus' precious study time was rapidly dwindling down to
nothing.

"Ha!" Bella barked one evening when Severus brought up the need to revise for his O.W.L.s.
"You think the Dark Lord cares how many Outstandings you get? You think he gives a rat's
arse that you pass your precious Potions exam?"

"Forget it, then, and let's just go another round," he snarled, raising his wand. "Clearly
keeping nameless mind-readers out of my head is more important than passing the exam that
all of wizarding Britain considers to be—"

"You think this is about nameless mind-readers?" she said, her voice rising. "You have no
idea the advantage Occlumency gives you, the gift I have dropped into your ungrateful —"

"Obviously, and I'm sure the examiners —"

"DO NOT INTERRUPT!" she shrieked. There was a crack like a whip, and sparks shot from
her wand, startling both of them. Severus eyed her warily, biting his tongue.

"As I was saying," continued Bella, breathing deeply, "if you think it is an accident that I
chose to teach you this magic, this magic in particular, then you are stupider than I thought."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Enlighten me, then."

"There's going to be a test," she said. The words sounded oddly rehearsed, as if she'd been
planning to tell him for some time. "Before you become Secondaries. Lucius is going to
administer Veritaserum to all the Intents, and you will take turns asking each other a variety
of… unpleasant questions. The exercise is designed to uncover the weaknesses of each
Intent."

"And Occlumency is one method of bypassing Veritaserum."

"Not completely," she said. "You will still be forced to tell the truth. But if you master
Occlumency, you will be able to hide your thoughts even from yourself, enabling you to
speak only a version of the truth."

"Why give me such an advantage?" asked Severus. He still had not lowered his wand. "What
do you have to gain by undermining Lucius?"

Bella laughed; her wild curls bounced as she threw her head back. "Lucius was the one who
gave the order for you to learn Occlumency! This is another tradition — allowing the most
promising Intent to retain some semblance of their dignity while they are examined by their
peers."

"And that's how you learned Occlumency," said Severus, putting the pieces together. "You
were the most promising Intent." Bella nodded. She seemed more relaxed than she had
moments ago, and he decided to push his luck. "What did you have to hide?"

"Cheeky little Sev." Bella smiled broadly and raised her wand. "If you want to know so badly,
why don't you take it from me?"

Severus' lips twitched. "Fine," he said, staring into her large grey eyes. "Legilimens."

At once, his mind filled with memories that were not his own, so vivid that he recoiled. There
was so much to look at he didn't know where to start. A tiny girl with curly black hair was
being Sorted; the Hat had barely grazed her head before it shouted "Slytherin!"... A toddler in
a green dress was chasing after her older sisters, laughing… Her mother was picking her up...

Severus began to feel slightly sick as the images flashed through his mind at a dizzying pace.
Now the toddler was wearing the Sorting Hat, and the curly-haired girl was chasing her
sisters. Now her mother was wearing a green dress, now the girl was staring at a raven whose
neck was bent at an odd angle… Now the raven was in a green dress, wearing the Sorting Hat
—

"Enough." He took an involuntary step backwards, breaking the connection between them.
The remnants of his lunch rose in his throat, and he had to will himself not to be sick.

Bella looked completely unfazed. She tilted her head. "Find anything useful?"

"Not remotely," he growled, and she giggled.

"Better luck next time, Sev. My turn, then… Legilimens."

It was nearly midnight by the time Bella tired of coaching him. This session had been the
longest and most fruitful yet; despite this, panic squeezed the air from Severus' lungs as he
returned to the dormitory. He was able to conceal his most incriminating feelings about Lily,
but he couldn't erase her from his mind entirely. She was everywhere — in all of his
Hogwarts years, in his summers in Cokeworth, in every part of his childhood worth
remembering. He couldn't get rid of her. Taking Veritaserum would certainly weaken his
mental barriers even further.
He carefully opened the door to the dormitory, glancing at Mulciber's sleeping form. They
currently had a shaky truce, but when the time came, Mulciber surely wouldn't hesitate to
question Severus about Lily. And how would he respond?

His insides twisted as he imagined himself babbling about Lily: how long he had known her,
the things he would do for her, how he didn't care that she was Muggle-born. That being
Muggle-born merely added to her brilliance. Would Lucius be content to decline him a
position among the Followers at that point? Or would Severus simply vanish, the way
Muggles across the country were doing with increasing frequency, if the Daily Prophet was
to be believed?

It won't happen, he told himself, changing into dingy pyjamas and climbing into bed. But
even as he practised his mind-clearing exercises that night, he couldn't shake the feeling that
a mere two weeks of Occlumency lessons wouldn't be enough to strengthen his mental
defences. He could hear Bella's voice echoing through his head, over and over. If the wrong
people find out…

He slept fitfully that night. When he woke, there was a pit in his stomach, and he had a
dreadful certainty about what he must do.

The full moon rose the following Thursday, and James could barely sit still, he was so
excited. He had such a hard time concentrating that he flubbed a Banishing Spell
spectacularly during Charms, exploding the cushion he was practising on.

"Oh, dear," muttered Sirius as Flitwick descended upon them, making James laugh
hysterically.

After the lesson, they parted ways with Remus at the hospital wing. "Don't forget to
transform before you open the trapdoor," Remus reminded them, fiddling with the sleeves of
his robes. "Don't let the wolf get a glimpse of your human forms. There's no rush if you can't
manage the Transfiguration right away — we've got all night, after all. Just take your time,
and when you're ready —"

"Remus, mate," said James. "Stop worrying. Everything is going to be fine."

"I'm not worrying. I'm going over the plan," said Remus, but the twisted ends of his sleeves
gave him away.

"Well, stop planning, then." James herded Remus towards the hospital wing. "Poppy's
waiting for you. We'll see you in" — he checked his watch — "an hour or so."

As the sun was setting, James, Sirius, and Peter crouched in the shadows of the Forbidden
Forest, hidden by the Invisibility Cloak. Remus and Madam Pomfrey soon came into view
and disappeared between the roots of the Whomping Willow. By the time Madam Pomfrey
reemerged, the Cloak was draped neatly over a branch, and three pairs of animal eyes
watched her return to the castle.

Padfoot whined with anticipation, and Wormtail darted out from the edge of the forest. It
scampered between the Willow's swaying branches and pushed the knot at the base of the
trunk, freezing its swaying branches.

With the tree now motionless, the dog and the rat slipped easily into the tunnel, but the stag
was too large to fit.

"Wish my Animagus was a mole," said James finally. He straightened and rubbed his head,
which was sore from trying to widen the tunnel with his antlers. The dog whined again,
sounding worried.

"It's fine, Padfoot." James dropped into the tunnel. "I'll just have to transform inside the
Shack. Don't think I'll be able to fit through the trapdoor with a massive set of antlers, either."

The dog barked loudly, alarmed, and James laughed. "Well, you'll just have to distract Moony
while I sneak into the Shack, won't you? Don't tell me you can't manage that!"

Padfoot and Wormtail glanced at each other, but they followed him down the tunnel. In the
end, James pulled down the trapdoor, and the dog leapt inside, followed closely by the rat.
James waited a few moments, then hoisted himself into the Shack as well.

From another room came a low, feral growl, followed by the clamour of knocked-over
furniture, and Padfoot yelped.

James closed his eyes. His pulse thrummed as he searched for the other, stronger heartbeat
inside his chest. The second heartbeat grew louder, galloping, overtaking his own —

Prongs reared onto his hindquarters as the wolf careened into the room. The wolf snapped its
jaws at him, and his front hooves hit the floor with a thud.

The wolf skidded to a halt, regarding its new playmate curiously. It crept forward, and its
snout twitched as it sniffed the stag.

Padfoot bounded into the room, barking, and tackled the wolf. The two wrestled on the floor,
play-fighting and nipping each other's haunches. Prongs joined in, using his antlers to toss the
wolf to one side of the room, which was great fun. The dog let out a series of barks,
demanding to be tossed as well.

In many ways, their first full moon together reminded James of all the nights they had spent
in the Shrieking Shack as humans, drinking and carrying on. Padfoot and the wolf got on
particularly well, being equal in size and strength. Peter, as Wormtail, led them in several
rowdy games of Hide-and-Seek, and they tried to play Hunt with Prongs as the prey, but there
wasn't quite enough room.

When the first rays of dawn streamed through the boarded-up windows of the Shack, all four
creatures were using a battered old blanket to play Tug, which Wormtail was losing quite
badly. The wolf collapsed as soon as the sunlight touched its skin, and it let out a low,
agonised moan. The other animals dropped the blanket, watching the wolf with something
that might have been labelled concern. Padfoot made a soft keening noise, nudging the wolf
with his snout.

A series of sharp, horrible snapping sounds rent the air, like many bones breaking at once,
and the wolf shrieked. Its back arched, its ears nearly touching its tail. The wolf's scream
became heart-stoppingly human as its limbs lengthened and its pelt receded, tufts of fur
retracting into smooth, pale skin. With a final, anguished howl, its lupine head jerked
forward, and suddenly Remus was lying on the floor, eyes closed.

With a clatter of hooves, James returned to his human form, dropping to his knees at Remus'
side. "Alright, Moony?" He placed a hand on Remus' back.

Remus stirred, blinking blearily. "Never… better," he rasped. "Are —" He broke off as a
coughing fit wracked his body.

James answered the truncated question. "We're fine, Moony. Not a scratch on any of us."

"Good." Slowly, Remus rolled onto his back, wincing and clutching his side. "Though I
think… you might have got me, Prongs…"

He lifted the corner of his shirt, revealing several spreading bruises and a deep gash across
his ribs. Padfoot growled, glaring accusingly at James.

"Don't give me that look!" said James defensively. "Sorry, Remus, mate. Want me to try my
hand at a healing spell?"

"No need," said Remus hoarsely, pulling his shirt back down. "This is nothing compared to...
what I usually get up to. Madam Pomfrey will be pleased, actually. Speaking of…" he
glanced at the sun coming in through the slats on the windows. "You lot should probably take
the long way back to Hogwarts. She'll be coming up through the tunnel soon."

After bidding Remus goodbye, the stag, dog and rat slipped out the door of the Shrieking
Shack. They trotted leisurely through Hogsmeade, took a detour around the Quidditch pitch
— Padfoot had smelt something interesting — and returned to the castle.

After an early breakfast, they went to Transfiguration, where James plopped into his seat,
exhausted, but feeling thoroughly and wonderfully alive.

During his free period on Wednesday, Severus managed to avoid revising with the other
Intents by claiming that he still hadn't finished his pledge and needed to work on it. After
leaving the library, he went straight to the dungeons and rapped a fist on the door to
Slughorn's office.
"Sliverus!" boomed Professor Slughorn. "Come in, my boy! How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you knew where Lily might be, sir," said Severus. "She wanted me to
bring her some more rue. For her independent study, you know…" His voice trailed off
meaningfully, and he reached under his robes, pulling out a bundle of rue.

"I'm sure she will appreciate the help," said Slughorn jovially. "Clever girl, that one."

"Indeed," said Severus stiffly. "Sir."

"Witches like her don't come around every century, you know," continued Slughorn, winking
at Severus as he hoisted himself to his feet. "Now… I believe Lily has commandeered
Workshop Five for her potion-brewing purposes. Do you need me to show you the way?"

"That won't be necessary." Severus inclined his head and backed out of the room. "Thank you
for your help, sir. I'll give her your regards."

He Vanished the rue on the way to Workshop Five, which was located in a corridor just
around the corner from Slughorn's office. When he tried the handle of the workroom, he was
surprised to find it locked; as he raised his hand to knock, however, the door swung open.

"What do you want?" asked Lily, her arms crossed. "I don't know if I ever told you, but I'm
brewing a highly sensitive potion and don't have time for distractions."

"Brought you something," said Severus. "Can I come in?"

Lily narrowed her eyes. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought she was performing
Legilimency on him. Finally, she nodded, and he breathed a sigh of relief as she beckoned
him into the room. A small cauldron sat in the centre of the workshop, bubbling away as
several brass instruments hovered around it, taking measurements.

"You've figured out the rue, then," said Severus, eyeing the cauldron.

"Clearly," said Lily. "Why are you here, Sev?"

"Right," he said, rummaging in his bag and handing her a pair of gloves. "These are for you."

Lily looked at him sceptically. "Those are my mum's old gloves. Y'know, the useless ones?
I've got a dragon-hide pair now —"

"Try them on," said Severus. "Trust me."

Lily took the gloves with obvious reluctance. For a moment, it looked like she might stuff
them into her robes and slam the door in his face.

"Humour me," he said, trying to salvage the situation.

She sighed and pulled the gloves on. Immediately, her eyes widened. "These — you…"
"I reinforced the lining with hide from a Welsh Green," he said. "And rubbed down the
outsides with Ironbelly oil. They should work as well as any pair of Wizarding gloves now."

Lily flexed her fingers, staring at the gloves. "You didn't have to…"

"You'll have to reapply the oil every six months or so, but I imagine that's not asking too
much," continued Severus. "Of course, if you prefer the pair you already have, I won't be —"

Lily threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "Thank you," she said into his ear.
"I've missed you."

His senses were overwhelmed by her, but all he could think was that this embrace would be
one more compromising memory to suppress. "The last few months have been awful, haven't
they?" he said wryly, untangling himself from her.

"That's one way of putting it." Lily wiped her eyes and smiled at him. "Want to get out of
here? I need to run down to the greenhouses for some thyme…"

"Of course," he said.

They stepped into the corridor, and Lily locked the door to the workshop with a small bronze
key, which she slipped into her bag.

"So what have you been up to, anyway?" she asked, swinging her arms through the air as
they walked through the Entrance Hall.

"Revising, mostly," said Severus. "Did you have career counselling with McGonagall?"

"Yeah." They stepped onto the grounds of Hogwarts, and she breathed in deeply. "Ah…
smells like spring. I suppose you met with old Sluggy, didn't you? Was he ever so helpful?"

"You guessed it," said Severus, smirking. "He thinks 'Sliverus' should take up a Potions
apprenticeship in Diagon Alley after graduating."

"At least he's aware that you're decent at Potions," said Lily. "Even if he can't be arsed to
remember your name."

He snorted. "Some consolation. What did McGonagall have to say to you?"

"Well, she brought up my marks in Potions, obviously, and in Charms," she said as they took
the well-trodden path to the greenhouses. "She suggested I look into a job with the Accidental
Magic Reversal Squad, but…" She shuddered. "The bureaucracy, can you imagine? No,
thanks."

"The Reversal Squad wouldn't be that bad," said Severus. "Of course, ninety-nine per cent of
the job is handling Splinching cases, but…"

"That's what I told her," said Lily. "It'd be boring. Plus, I just can't see myself as a Ministry
girl. That's when she…" Her cheeks tinged a pale shade of pink. "She actually suggested I
look into Healing."
"Really?"

"Yeah. And, I dunno, Sev, I've been thinking about it, and it might actually be a good fit,
don't you think?" She was rushing to get the words out. "I mean, Healing's really interesting,
it's so different from Muggle medicine. And you have to be good at Potions to be a Healer,
plus there's an aspect of thinking on your feet — not to mention all sorts of really specialised
charms, which would be so fun to learn…"

"You'd be a brilliant Healer," he told her, and her blush deepened. "Seriously."

"You really think so?"

"I do," said Severus. "If it's something you're interested in, you should pursue it."

"Healing would come in useful, too," she said. "You know, if we… if wizarding Britain really
ends up at war."

"That's ridiculous," he said before he could stop himself. "There's not going to be a war."

"No, right, 'course not," said Lily hurriedly. "I only meant — if there was…"

"There won't be," said Severus. "All that's happened over the past five years are skirmishes,
not a full-blown war. And a war wouldn't be profitable for either side, anyway. It's not going
to happen."

Besides, he thought, calling it a war implies that two equal sides are fighting. The Ministry
might have greater numbers, but Dark Lord's might would surely crush anyone who stood
against him. There wouldn't be a war — only a massacre.

Lily nodded vaguely, but her brow was furrowed, and he wondered for a second time if she
could somehow read his thoughts. He cast a sideways glance at her. "I would hope you
wouldn't fight in a real war, anyway," he said. "If there's actually open combat, people will
die, you know."

"I know," she said softly. "But people are dying anyway. Our people." She met his eyes, and
he had to will himself not to flinch. "Besides, I wouldn't be on the front lines as a Healer,
would I? I'd be in a more… supportive role."

"I suppose," said Severus, and they fell silent, listening to the far-off, boisterous shouts of
students enjoying the weather.

Lily spoke first, keeping her eyes on the path in front of them. "If there is a war..." She
hesitated. "Which side do you think you'd find yourself on?"

"Whichever side you're on, obviously."

That answer apparently wasn't good enough for Lily. "Come on, Sev," she said, jostling him.
"Be serious. I know you have friends who…"
"There's not going to be a war," he said firmly. "But if there is, you're mad if you think I'd bet
against Lily Evans."

She smiled, looking relieved. "So I'll be on the sidelines, as a Healer, and you'll be…?"

"Locked in an apothecary somewhere, making Potions for the cause."

"Sluggy would be proud," she said, laughing. "Would you be inventing spells, too, d'you
think?"

Severus remembered the Sectumsempra curse he was perfecting and began to feel ill.
"Probably."

In the greenhouse, Lily was so excited to finally be at the stage where she needed thyme —
or perhaps she was simply delighted that she and Severus were getting along, for once — that
she flitted from plant to plant, talking loudly and dropping her trimming shears multiple
times. As they were leaving, she nearly forgot her bag, so Severus dashed back into the
greenhouse to grab it for her.

After they reached the castle, Lily bid him goodbye with another mind-melting hug and
practically skipped to her workroom. As she vanished from sight, Severus reached into his
pocket, hating himself with every fibre of his being, and pulled out a perfect copy of a small,
bronze key.

Success.
 Liquid Luck

The last Saturday in May was bright and breezy. Perfect weather for the Quidditch final
against Ravenclaw, in James' opinion. In the days leading up to the match, if he wasn't on the
pitch, he was talking strategy with Parvana Patil and Peregrine Flint, or rehearsing tactics
using the chess pieces he'd Transfigured into miniature Quidditch players. When he slept, he
dreamt of flying.

"Captains, if you would," said Madam Hooch. James nodded and extended a hand towards
Chester Fernsby, the beefy Ravenclaw captain, who pretended to yawn before clasping
James' wrist. James' grip tightened, and Fernsby smirked, clearly expecting an easy win for
Ravenclaw.

Admittedly, Gryffindor did need to be at least forty points up before catching the Snitch if
they wanted to win the Cup. It was a lot to ask, but it wasn't impossible.

"Great, they've started," said Sirius from the commentator's box as Madam Hooch blew her
whistle. "Show of hands, who thinks James is gonna be even more of a Quaffle-hog than
usual, in the hopes that some third-rate recruiter is watching from the stands? Just me, then?"

James grinned, urging his broom upwards as the two teams shot into the sky. It was good to
hear Sirius' taunts again.

Sirius' voice drifted across the stadium as James and his fellow Chasers set up their first
formation. "Looks like Potter's got the Quaffle, surprise surprise, Potter to Peregrine Flint,
Flint to Hana Suzuki — nice avoidance of Ravenclaw there — Suzuki shoots… and —
GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

There was a roar of approval from the stands, and several students shot red and gold sparks
into the air. As James followed the other Chasers back to the Gryffindor side of the pitch, he
hopped to his feet on his broom and bowed dramatically.

"Someone needs to tell Potter this is Quidditch, not Muggle surfing," remarked Sirius.
"James, mate, you didn't even score the goal. Ooh, speaking of Muggle culture, ugly hand
gesture from Potter towards the commentator's box… that merits at least a penalty, I'd
think… Anyway, Ravenclaw in possession, Fernsby to Archibald Bole — looks like the
Ravenclaw Chasers are attempting a Howlet's Wing formation — which falls apart thanks
to double Bludgers from Gryffindor Beaters Marlene McKinnon and Otis Podmore…"

One of the Bludgers slammed into Archibald Bole's face, and James winced. Bole clapped a
hand over his nose, which was gushing blood, turning his royal blue robes into Gryffindor
scarlet.

That's why I stick to commentating, ladies and gents," said Sirius. "Can't risk damaging the
Galleon-maker… Oh, of all the —" He swore loudly into the megaphone. "Ravenclaw score,
didn't even realise they had possession… Professor McGonagall says if I stuck to describing
the match at hand, I wouldn't have this problem. She may have a point — bad luck,
Gryffindor…"

Within ten minutes, both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had scored twice more. "They're too
good, James," called Parvana from high above him. "Just let me catch the Snitch so we can
end on a high note."

"Not a chance," said James, keeping one eye on the Ravenclaw Chasers. "We're taking the
Cup if it's the last thing we do."

Parvana reached up to adjust her plait. "Got something to prove, do you?"

"Trust me," he said. "Don't you dare touch the Snitch till we're forty points up."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but she dipped her head and veered away to continue
circling the pitch.

"Score's thirty-thirty, Gryffindor in possession," said Sirius. "Suzuki to Potter — Usman

Shafiq sending a nasty Bludger Potter's way, and — oh, that's not good…"

James had swerved at exactly the wrong moment, and the Bludger smashed into his chest,
forcing the air from his lungs. The blow hurtled him backwards, nearly off his broom, and the
Quaffle slipped from his fingers.

Madam Hooch's tinny whistle blew shrilly. "Ravenclaw foul!"

"You alright, James?" asked Hana Suzuki as they lined up for the penalty shot.

James was wheezing for breath. "Ask me again in a minute." He turned the Quaffle over in
his hands, watching Sylvia Bellchant, the Ravenclaw Keeper, hover in front of the goalposts.
With a grunt of pain, he hefted the Quaffle and flung it at the hoop on the far right. Bellchant
dove, but she wasn't fast enough, and the Quaffle soared through the hoop.

"That's better," said James, rubbing his smarting chest. "Ravenclaw's Chasers are good, but
Bellchant can't defend worth dung."

"New strategy, then?" asked Peregrine. "Sacrifice our bodies for penalty shots?"

James nodded. "Exactly."

Hana Suzuki got the next shot on goal after she was mowed down by Ravenclaw's Chasers as
they sped towards the Gryffindor hoops.

"No good, Ravenclaw!" Sirius cried gleefully, shaking his head. "Can't make a formation
when the other team are in the way. Basic physics — that's the Muggle theory of matter, for
those who don't know…"

"I'm glad you're well-prepared for your Muggle Studies O.W.L., Black," said Professor
McGonagall over the megaphone, "but could you please focus on the match?"
"News flash, everybody, Professor McGonagall is not a fan of Muggles," said Sirius loudly
into the megaphone. "You heard it here first — okay, okay, sorry Professor... Ravenclaw in
possession, Bole passes to — ouch, the Quaffle hits Gryffindor Beater Podmore in an
unfortunate spot… not likely to do any permanent damage, though — you'd want a Bludger
for that, a Quaffle's the wrong ball… excuse the pun, Podmore…"

Peregrine Flint managed to fall dramatically off his broom after being jostled by Fernsby,
earning Ravenclaw their fourth foul and Gryffindor their fourth penalty shot.

"Now, Parvana!" called James.

"Eighty-forty, Gryffindor in the lead," said Sirius from the commentator's box. "The Cup
could go to either team, now — Ravenclaw in possession, Fernsby and Bole doing something
weird with their brooms… Shafiq joins them, holding his Beater's bat in a funny way — ooh,
they've made the Dragon's Egg formation, that's going to be tricky for Gryffindor to break…
Fernsby narrowly avoids a Bludger from McKinnon, they're closing in on the Gryffindor
hoops now… Wait a moment, MERLIN'S ULCERATED —"

There was a dull thump as Professor McGonagall put her hand over the megaphone, muffling
whatever Sirius was about to say next.

"Parvana Patil of Gryffindor has gone into a steep dive," announced Professor McGonagall, a
slight tremble in her voice betraying her excitement. "Ravenclaw are nearly at the hoops now
—"

"PATIL'S SEEN THE SNITCH!" screamed Sirius, drowning out Professor McGonagall.

James' heart leapt into his throat as Parvana dove, arm outstretched, towards the ground. She
cut in front of the Ravenclaw Chasers, who slammed into her, turning her nosedive into a
tumble as she grappled with her broom.

The Snitch was skimming across the grass of the Quidditch pitch. Parvana was still in a free
fall, barely ten feet from the ground. She flipped upside-down on her broom, hanging by her
knees as she reached both arms towards the Snitch —

"SHE'S GOING TO CRASH!" yelled Sirius. "Someone get Madam Pomfrey — HANG IN
THERE, PARVANA!"

Parvana plummeted off her broom. She somersaulted over the grass once, twice, and
crumpled in a heap on the ground. The stadium was silent, watching her limp form.

Slowly, she raised one arm above her head, a glint of gold between her fingers.

"SHE'S GOT IT!" screamed Sirius, and an enormous roar went up from the stands. "FINAL
SCORE TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY TO FORTY — GRYFFINDOR WINS THE
CUP!"

Madam Hooch blew her whistle three times, signalling the end of the match, and James
nudged his broom towards the ground. Marlene and Otis Podmore had already landed and
were helping Parvana to her feet.

"Alright, Patil?" called James, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her neat plait had come
undone in several places from her dive.

She flashed him a triumphant, bloody grin. "Never better."

James plucked the Snitch from her hands and pocketed it before she could protest. "If Madam
Hooch asks, tell her the Snitch got away from you in all the excitement."

"We're keeping it forever, aren't we?" said Parvana.

"'Course we are." James rolled the ball between his fingers. "Gryffindor wins the Quidditch
Cup for the first time in over a decade? This Snitch is part of history."

After showering in the changing room, James joined the rest of his teammates in a triumphant
parade back to the castle, holding the Cup high over their heads. As they reached the first
floor landing, he paused.

"You lot go on," he said. "I'll meet you in the common room."

"Off to do the dirty with the Cup, eh?" Peregrine Flint laughed and slapped him on the back.
"Your deepest fantasy finally realised…"

"Piss off, Flint," said James, but he was smiling. The rest of the team continued up the stairs,
Otis and Marlene carrying Parvana above their heads, and James ducked around the corner,
towards Professor McGonagall's office.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. McGonagall must have been with the other
teachers, doing whatever they did after a Quidditch match. Rubbing Gryffindor's win in
Professor Slughorn's face, he hoped.

The door to the office was locked, but James had expected that. He pulled his wand out of his
robes and pointed it at the Cup.

"Alliago," he muttered, and the Cup flattened, turning into a sheet of parchment. He slid the
parchment under the door and, with another flourish of his wand, Untransfigured it back into
a trophy.

Next came the hard part. He waved his wand blindly, hoping to send the Cup in the direction
of Professor McGonagall's desk. A series of loud crashes came from inside the office,
accompanied by the sound of shattering glass.

In the end, he was fairly certain the Cup was sitting comfortably in the display case behind
her desk, although he may have broken the case's glass front in the process.

James pulled a quill and a scrap of parchment from his bag and scribbled a brief note, which
he slid under the door.

Professor McGonagall,
Found this old Cup lying around. Thought you might like to have it.

- JP

P.S. Wild storm we had the other day, eh?

The common room was completely empty by the time James got back to Gryffindor tower,
save for Remus' battered old trunk, which was lying rather conspicuously in front of the
hearth. James knelt beside the trunk and flipped the latches, humming to himself.

As he opened the lid, shouts and whistles rose from inside, accompanied by loud music. He
climbed into the trunk and straightened up, grinning. The trunk's interior was the size of a
ballroom, covered from floor to ceiling in red and gold hangings and filled near to bursting
with what looked like the entirety of Gryffindor House.

"The man of the hour!" Sirius bounded forward and pressed a goblet full of dark red liquid
into James' hand. He swept his arms out, indicating the room. "What do you think?
Impressive, eh?"

"Remind me to never underestimate your spellwork," said James. He took a long swig from
the goblet. The drink must have been one of Sirius' concoctions; immediately after he
swallowed, scarlet-coloured steam began to pour from his ears. "I didn't realise Undetectable
Extension Charms could make things quite so… extensive."

"Well, not normally," said Sirius. "We had to finagle it a bit, which had the unfortunate side-
effect of making the trunk a little… magically unstable."

"No duelling, in other words." Remus appeared at James' side and held out a hand. "Your
wand, please, Sirius."

James frowned. "You're confiscating our wands?"

"Nah," said Remus with a grin. "Just Mr Magically-Unstable over here. He's nearly blown us
all up twice already."

"I maintain that exploding the punch bowl was an accident and doesn't count," said Sirius,
but he shoved his wand at Remus anyway and whirled onto the dance floor.

"You two are getting on well, then, aren't you?" asked James as Remus' eyes tracked Sirius in
the crowd. "If you're back to pushing the limits of spellcasting together…"

Remus lifted a shoulder. "He said he was sorry. Can't ask for more than that, can I?"

"'Sorry' doesn't mean that everything goes back to normal."

"James," said Remus, sounding pained. "He's your best mate."

"I mean, yeah, but that doesn't — you didn't have to…"
Sirius was dancing exuberantly with Marlene McKinnon. His movements were large and
exaggerated, yet somehow still graceful. Remus watched them, a thoughtful expression on
his face.

"I've chosen to believe he means well," he said finally. "For the good of us all."

James opened his mouth to protest, but Remus jerked his head towards the punch bowl.
"Come on. Enough mopey Moony. Let's celebrate your victory."

Bella called for a special ritual to be held during the first week of O.W.L.s. She didn't give
any details, only that they'd meet at midnight on Monday. Severus knew what was about to
happen, though: Lucius Malfoy was going to dose them with Veritaserum.

Severus could barely keep his eyes open after taking both the theory and practical portions of
his Charms O.W.L. The material hadn't been overly challenging, but the sheer length of the
exams left him exhausted. Edmund Avery, on the other hand, appeared to be staying awake
through sheer anxiety, muttering to himself when he thought nobody was listening. Mulciber
didn't show any signs of fatigue at all.

As they were leaving the common room for Dungeon Thirteen, Severus pretended to have
forgotten his wand and dashed back to the dormitory. Once he was safely hidden behind the
curtains of his bed, he pulled a small vial of golden liquid out from under his pillow.

His stomach turned, like he was about to drink troll snot instead of Liquid Luck. He'd stolen
Lily's Felix Felicis while she was taking the Charms practical. The theft had been
astonishingly simple: he'd disillusioned himself and slipped into Workshop Five using the
little bronze key he'd copied the previous week. Nobody had been any the wiser.

He was nauseous with guilt, but he unstoppered the vial and tipped his head back as the
potion slid down his throat.

After another queasy minute, a feeling of warmth began to grow inside of him, like he'd
swallowed a candle. His intestines untwisted themselves, and a sense of well-being settled
over him. Lily would forgive his transgression. And he had been foolish to worry about
Lucius Malfoy and the Veritaserum. Severus' mental defences were strong, nearly as strong
as Bella's. Nobody would suspect a thing.

No longer anxious about the evening's ceremony, Severus stowed the empty vial under his
pillow and rejoined his fellow Intents, who were waiting for him in the corridor.

Inside Dungeon Thirteen, Lucius Malfoy was lounging in a high-backed white chair at the
head of a table inlaid with gold. In front of him were seven crystal glasses filled with clear
liquid.
Bella was in the chair beside him. She smiled at the Intents as they filed in. "Sit," she said
grandly, gesturing towards the empty chairs at the table.

"Sev," hissed Avery as they took their seats, "is that — are they —" He gestured
meaningfully at the seven potions.

Severus inclined his head a fraction, and a whimper escaped Avery's throat.

Severus locked eyes with Bella, who was draped in so many layers of silver silk that she
looked part-Veela. She narrowed her eyes, and he thought he felt a little nudge at the edge of
his consciousness. He lifted his chin a bit, daring her to probe deeper. Keep looking. You will
find nothing here.

Bella broke eye contact and settled back in her chair, a small smile playing around her lips.

Lucius leaned forward, his hands steepled in front of him. "Tonight is a special night," he
said, his eyes sweeping the table. "I count myself fortunate to be among you, as this is my
favourite of all the Rituals of Intention."

"Mine as well," said Bella. "Some of you may have already guessed, from the potions on the
table — tonight, we will be drinking Veritaserum."

"We, Bella?" asked Evan Rosier. His eyes darted towards Lucius, looking unsure of whether
he was allowed to speak.

Bella winked at him. "Of course. Don't I partake in every ritual, as your mentor? This will be
no exception."

Mulciber and Avery looked impressed, but Severus knew better. Bella was an accomplished
Occlumens and had already been exposed to Truth Potion when she was an Intent. Taking
Veritaserum now would hardly leave her vulnerable. Her willingness to participate made a
good show, but that was all it was.

"Let us begin," said Lucius, nodding at the potions. "It is time to expose the things you would
rather hide."

Bella smiled beatifically at the Intents and raised her own glass in a toast, then downed its
contents. Everyone else followed suit, though Avery looked distastefully at his potion before
swallowing it.

The crystal glass was cold against Severus' lips as he took a sip. The Veritaserum had no
smell, no taste; it could have been water. In fact, after he had drunk the entire potion, he felt
no different than he had a minute before.

He raised his glass to eye level, examining the way it refracted with the light. Was it possible
there had been a mistake? Could his glass actually have been full of water?

Caution, warned a voice in the back of Severus' mind. Things are not as they seem. He
nodded to himself, agreeing with the voice. He straightened, feeling suddenly proud. He was
so clever, he always had been. He only needed to trust himself.
"That's better," breathed Bella. Her eyelids fluttered open as she swallowed the last of the
potion in her glass. She gave the Intents a benevolent smile, flashing every one of her square
teeth at them. "I will go first, I think, to show how this is done. If you are in agreement,
Lucius?"

"I am." Lucius inclined his head. "Bella, if you would tell me, what form does your Boggart
take?"

My father, thought Severus. The words were on the tip of his tongue, and he had to fight the
urge to blurt them out. It's Bella's turn, he reminded himself, but that didn't satisfy him. He
needed to speak, he craved it. Perhaps Veritaserum had been in his glass after all.

Bella hummed, tilting her head. "My Boggart takes the form of a Muggle with a torch who
wants to burn me alive."

"Enlightening," said Lucius. Privately, Severus thought it was awfully coincidental that
Bella's Boggart doubled as a demonstration of her devotion to the cause.

"My turn, then." Bella scanned the Intents. Avery had his hands clapped over his mouth to
prevent himself from speaking. "Rabastan?"

Rabastan Lestrange's head snapped up. "Yes, Bella?"

"Tell me, Rabastan," purred Bella, "who in this room do you hate the most?"

"I hate you, Bella," said Lestrange, looking surprised at how quickly the words tumbled from
his mouth. "There are lots of reasons why. My brother courts you, and you say that you love
him, but I know he's not the only one you're seeing. And you make us — the Intents — hurt
each other. We should be hurting other people, not ourselves. It's wrong."

"Oh, Rabastan," said Bella. "You're giving away secrets that are not your own. Don't worry
— I'm not angry. But I think I shall not comment on my relationship with your brother. Does
that sound fair?"

"I guess," said Lestrange.

"How does it feel to speak the truth? Does it feel good?"

"It does," said Lestrange, though he was frowning deeply.

"It does," agreed Bella. "Now, do you know why I have you practice on each other,
Rabastan? It is so you don't embarrass me when the Dark Lord gives you unpleasant tasks to
perform. Our rituals teach obedience, discipline, and trust. Have any of you come to
permanent harm under my guidance?"

"No, Bella." Lestrange looked somewhat ashamed now.

"So will it be when you swear allegiance to the Dark Lord. Obey and trust, and no harm will
come to any of you." Bella leaned back in her chair and arranged her silver robes, looking
quite pleased with herself. "Aren't you glad we had this talk, Rabastan? Do you have more
confidence in my leadership?"

"I do," said Lestrange. "Now I think I hate Malfoy the most. That is —" He flushed scarlet.
"Not that — I don't know him well enough to —"

Bella's laugh was high and sharp. Beside her, Lucius smiled graciously. "You've got a little
problem with authority, don't you, Rabastan?" he asked. "From what I know of your father, it
runs in the family. No matter — I am not offended. Now then, which of you would like to go
next?"

"Me," said Avery at once. He was bouncing with eagerness, though he also looked vaguely
confused, as if he wasn't quite sure why he was volunteering himself.

Lestrange smiled, seeming relieved to no longer be the centre of attention. "Right, Edmund,"
he said. "Erm… what did you think about the last time you, er, polished your wand?"

Avery's ears turned red, and Mulciber snickered. Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
For all Bella's talk, Lestrange had a point: most of these rituals were humiliating.

Severus was so lost in thought that he missed Avery's answer. From the way Mulciber and
Wilkes shifted their chairs away from Avery, though, he had a good guess as to what Avery
might have said.

"Interesting," said Bella, her eyes sparkling. "So you like to think about other people's wands.
Do you feel better, letting us know your secret?"

Avery was biting his lip in an effort to keep himself from responding. He was silent for nearly
ten seconds, and a trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. "No," he said at last.
"There's a reason I was keeping that to myself."

"But if we don't know the secrets you hide, how will we be able to protect you as Followers?"
said Bella, as if talking to a child. "It wouldn't do for us to be caught off guard. That's how
Death Eaters get compromised. You don't want to be compromised, do you, Edmund?"

Avery didn't meet Bella's eyes. "No."

"It's good that you've shared," said Lucius. "This is information that your brothers need to
know. And not to worry — no Death Eater will raise an eyebrow at your" — he coughed
delicately — "affinities, so long as they don't extend to Muggles. Now, who would you like to
question?"

"Mulciber, I guess," said Avery. He lifted a trembling hand to his mouth to wipe away the
blood there. He looked like he was about to cry, but he seemed unable to stop himself from
turning towards Mulciber. "Augustus, have you ever… I mean, would you be interested in…
We spend a lot of time together, and…"

"No," said Mulciber at once, and Wilkes laughed. "Absolutely not."

Avery looked like he wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. If Severus hadn't been
focused on emptying his mind of emotion, he would have felt very sorry for Avery.

"On the same topic," said Mulciber, "I have a question for Severus."

Severus took a slow breath through his nostrils, willing himself not to react. He had known
this was coming, whether from Mulciber or Bella or another Intent. There was no escaping it.

Calm, said the voice at the back of his mind. He had nothing to hide. He was detached from
emotion, from memory, from self.

"So, Sev." Mulciber leaned forward in his chair. There was a vicious glint in his icy blue eyes.
"Care to tell us about Lily Evans? See, I don't know if I can trust a brother who finds
Mudbloods attractive."

Severus' lip curled, though inside he felt like jumping for joy. Stupid, stupid, Mulciber. Didn't
he know Truth Potions needed specificity to be effective?

"Lily Evans," he said, dragging the words out, waiting to see what memories rose to the
surface of his mind. Nothing. "We met in Potions class during our first year." Not a lie;
they had met in Potions class, and other places besides. "We shared an interest in the subject.
In the years that followed, our friendship persisted, even as the political climate grew
considerably more… hostile."

Lucius smirked at that, and Bella giggled a little, giving Severus a moment to collect himself.
His heart ought to have been hammering out of his chest; Felix Felicis was the only thing
keeping him calm.

"Recently, though," he said, "our relationship has been… tense. You may find it hard to
believe, but she has a certain distaste for the Dark Arts."

"Get to the point," growled Mulciber. "Who is Lily Evans to you?"

Severus looked not at Mulciber, but at Lucius, who was listening attentively, head cocked to
one side. "Lily Evans is my Potions partner and a Mudblood," he said flatly. "She is someone
of little consequence."

Felix Felicis thrummed in his veins. He felt elated and slightly out of breath, like he'd just run
a marathon. He examined the contents of his mind, but no thoughts of Lily rose to contradict
what he'd just said.

Lucius nodded slowly. Beside him, Bella caught sight of Mulciber's expression and laughed.

"Oh, Augustus, no need to look so disappointed!" she said. "We can't all be harbouring
secrets as juicy as Edmund's. Severus, who do you have a question for?"

"Lucius," said Severus immediately.

Lucius Malfoy blinked. "I haven't taken Veritaserum tonight, Severus."

"As is your right," said Severus, letting Liquid Luck guide his speech. "Nevertheless, I hope
you will answer me honestly. Who here do you think has the most potential?"

A slow smile stretched across Lucius' thin face. "Excellent question," he said. "I admire your
nerve. And I must say — every time we interact, I find myself more and more impressed by
you, Severus. Does that suffice for an answer?"

Severus inclined his head and settled into the high-backed armchair. The questioning
continued, but he paid the ceremony no mind.

He'd done it. He'd actually done it. He felt light-headed and loose-limbed with victory, as if
he'd just run a marathon.

There was another small nudge at the back of his skull. He couldn't tell whether it was
coming from Bella, or one of the potions he'd taken that night, or, God forbid, his own
conscience — if he still had one.

That's right, you've done it. Now to pay the cost.

Something was wrong with Lily's potion.

She knew it as soon as she let herself into the workroom, an hour before her Potions O.W.L.
began. There was no movement to the liquid, no burbling golden drops, and the colour had
turned a deep bronze.

The protective charms on her Felix Felicis had been activated. She'd set them to overheat the
cauldron if anyone other than her disturbed the surface of the potion. It would have taken less
than fifteen seconds for the Liquid Luck to spoil.

There was only one possible conclusion. Someone had attempted to steal her Felix Felicis,
and she knew exactly who it had been.

She went to Professor Slughorn immediately and notified him that there had been a breach in
the protective enchantments surrounding her workroom. When he peered into her cauldron,
his expression confirmed her fears, and it was all she could do not to cry. An entire year of
work had been ruined. Sabotaged.

Stolen.

She swore up and down to Professor Slughorn that she had no idea who might have tampered
with her potion. Privately, she wondered dully why she was even bothering to protect Severus
anymore. He'd shown her all year who he was, and now the evidence was undeniable. She
was so naive. So stupid.
In the end, she managed to convince Professor Slughorn that someone must have ruined her
potion as an anti-Muggle-born prank; she didn't tell him that at least a thimbleful of Felix had
been stolen. There was no use upsetting Professor Slughorn further, not when she knew who
the perpetrator was. Not when she could enact a vengeance sweeter than any detention he
could give.

It was in this mindset that she entered Dungeon One, where her Potions O.W.L was being
held. Severus was seated in one of the upper tiers, next to Mulciber; interestingly, Avery was
a couple of rows down, sitting alone.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked.

Severus looked up, startled. His black eyes searched her face, looking for a sign that she was
angry. That she knew what he did.

She gave nothing away.

"Go ahead," said Severus at last, still regarding her warily.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Thanks, Sev."

Their examiner was an ancient wizard, so tall and thin that he looked like a ghostly
scarecrow. He waved his wand slowly through the air, and examination booklets drifted onto
each desk, along with a blank scroll of parchment.

"Good luck," said Lily brightly to Severus as the examiner turned over a large hourglass. "I'm
sure you'll do well — you're brilliant at Potions."

"Thanks," said Severus. He was still eyeing her as though at any moment she would turn into
a Chimaera and wreak havoc on the dungeon. "You, too."

Theory of Potions was easier than Lily had expected, which she was thankful for; sitting so
close to Severus made it difficult to concentrate. The sound of his quill scratching against the
parchment made her want to snap it in half and drive the pieces into his eye. In between
questions, she fantasised about upending his chair and tossing him bodily across the room.
Maybe she really was part-Chimaera.

Something knocked against her hand, startling her. Her inkwell was rattling violently,
threatening to spill its contents across her parchment. She took several deep breaths, and the
inkwell stilled. She couldn't afford to make a scene with accidental magic; it was better to be
patient. She would have her revenge.

Her moment came that afternoon, during the practical portion of their Potions O.W.L.

"Oh, well done, well done," said the examiner, bending slowly over her cauldron and wafting
the fumes towards his pointed nose. "A beautifully brewed Alihotsy Draught… and do I
smell citrus?"

"Yes, sir." Lily gave her potion one last stir. "I add limewort to balance the side-effects from
the moondew, which causes flushing in a minority of wizards who take the Draught."
"Splendid improvisation," said the examiner. "I daresay you've got quite a future in Potions
ahead of you, Miss…?"

"Evans," she said. The examiner raised his eyebrows at her Muggle surname, but she
pretended not to notice. "Actually, sir, I've been working on an independent study this year,
too. I've been brewing… well, can I show you?"

She smiled brightly, and the examiner chuckled and nodded. Lily reached into her bag. At the
desk beside her, Severus stiffened.

"Let me see…" said Lily. "Got it!"

She pulled the little vial out of her bag and held it up so it caught the light. Inside the vial, her
ruined potion was the colour of rotting autumn leaves. "Felix Felicis," she said with relish.
Beside her, Severus was as still as if he had been Petrified, one hand stretched over his
cauldron.

"If I may…" said the examiner, holding out his hand. Lily nodded and dropped the vial into
his palm, smiling so broadly that her cheeks hurt.

"This… That is…" The examiner made a humming noise. "I suppose you added the rue
during the new moon?"

"Always, sir," said Lily.

"And you used a female Ashwinder egg, not that of a male?"

"Of course," she said. "I followed the instructions exactly. Would you like to try a drop? Not
too much, though, or you might not feel like marking our exams…"

"Ah… though tempting, I'm afraid I must decline," said the examiner. He set the vial
delicately down on her table, as though afraid it would explode.

"Then I'll have to be the one to try it," said Lily, and the examiner's indulgent smile changed
to a look of horror.

"Lily…" said Severus at last, and she had to fight to keep the grin plastered on her face.

"This is exciting, isn't it, Sev?" she babbled, breaking the seal on the vial with her thumb.
"I've heard it's an amazing feeling, taking Felix…"

"Miss Evans," said the examiner weakly, "I don't know how to tell you this, but that
sample… It might be better to leave it alone…"

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that," said Lily. "I've worked so hard all year — I need to know how it
turned out! Felix is a tricky potion, you know, disastrous effects when improperly brewed…"
She winked at the astonished examiner and raised the vial to her lips.

"Lily," said Severus urgently. Beside him, Mulciber was gazing at her like a cat watching a
mouse. "Don't. Now isn't a good time —"
"Don't be jealous, Sev," she said. "It's not a good look on you."

"You ought to test it on an animal, to make sure it's safe." Severus' voice rose. "Or a couple of
willing first years, or — or give it here, and I'll —"

"Thanks but no thanks," said Lily, locking eyes with him. "I made this potion, and I know I
followed the steps correctly. So I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

Severus stared at her, mouth ajar. She smiled back at him. She hoped her performance was
good enough, that Severus couldn't see the heartbreak that lurked just underneath.

Silly Severus. He was so predictable. He had expected her to rage at him, but that wouldn't
satisfy her this time. Nothing she said could hurt him worse than his own internal
commentary — he hated himself, after all. Yelling at him was a waste of time.

So she would hurt herself instead, and it would be his fault for tampering with her potion.
That would twist the knife deeper than any insult or admonishment could.

She winked at him. Then, before either Severus or the examiner could stop her, she
swallowed the contents of the vial.

She ended up spending two days in the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey regrew her
spleen. As a result, she missed both her Arithmancy and History of Magic O.W.L.s. Luckily,
the Mediwitch assured her that, due to the extenuating circumstance of having nearly blown
herself up, she would be allowed to retake the O.W.L.s she had missed during the second
week of examinations.

On Thursday, Lily emerged from the infirmary just in time for dinner in the Great Hall. She
sat between Mary and Marlene, who nearly suffocated her in a hug. Towards the end of
dinner, she finally glanced at the Slytherin table. Severus looked awful; his stringy hair hung
in clumps about his face, and he was paler than ever.

Lily stared at him coolly, daring him to acknowledge her. He looked away in response.

In the week that followed, a rumour spread through Gryffindor House that Severus had
tampered with Lily's potion. She wasn't certain who had started it — perhaps Marlene, who
had guessed what had happened before Lily had even told her.

When curious students asked if the rumour was true, Lily would merely nod and return to her
Arithmancy notes. She wasn't interested in spreading gossip, but she had no problem
confirming what Severus had done.

There was a saying in the Muggle world, after all, that the truth would set you free.
James Potter came for Severus after their Defence O.W.L., like Severus knew he would. The
entire school somehow knew that Severus had ruined Lily's potion. Even his fellow Intents
heard about it, and they congratulated him on successfully 'putting a Mudblood in her place'.
It was too much to hope that the rumour had bypassed James and his lackeys.

They found him on the grounds of Hogwarts, behind a cluster of bushes at the edge of the
lake.

Even though Severus had been expecting an attack, James Disarmed him immediately, and
Sirius hit him with an Impediment Jinx before he could cast a curse of his own. A small
group of students noticed the commotion and clustered around to watch.

Come to see the show, Severus thought nastily.

"You're so predictable it's pathetic," he spat, struggling uselessly against the Impediment Jinx
as James and Sirius loomed over him. "Hexing me when I'm alone, surrounded by sycophants
who can back you up… your mother must be so proud to have a son like you."

James levelled his wand at Severus' head. "Leave my mother out of this, Snape."

"I must not have made myself clear," sneered Severus. "I was speaking to Black. You're
growing up to be quite the mummy's boy, aren't you?" he said to Sirius, who scowled. "Cruel
streak a mile wide. If I were you, I'd try the Sorting Hat on again, now that you've become a
proper Black —"

Sirius cracked his wand like a whip, snarling. Pain seared into Severus' back in long, burning
stripes, like he'd just been flayed by a cord of flames, and he collapsed into the grass.

"My... point... exactly," said Severus through gritted teeth. His limbs twitched as he fought to
stand up. "Duel me like a wizard and we'll see who wins, you inbred waste of space. Ventrum
Mortis. Crus Crura — let me up, you blood traitor. Mutatum Carnifero..."

As James had Disarmed him, nothing happened.

"Wash out your mouth," said James coldly. He stepped in front of Sirius, who looked
murderous. "Scourgify!"

Severus gagged; soap bubbles rose up his throat and poured out of his mouth. His hand flew
to his neck as he struggled to breathe. James raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Leave him ALONE!"

Severus' heart stopped. Lily.

It couldn't be. Surely she had gotten the message after he'd betrayed her, surely she knew to
stay away, that trying to save their friendship was futile…

"All right, Evans?" said James.

She glared at the Gryffindor boys. "Leave him alone. What happened is between me and Sev.
I don't need you intervening on my behalf, like some knight in shining armour…"

"Rest easy, Evans," said Sirius. "I can't speak for James here, but I'm acting on motives
entirely my own. You don't factor into it."

"Is that right?" said Lily, hands on her hips. "What's he done to you, then?"

"Well," said James, pretending to think, "for us it's more the fact that he exists, if you know
what I mean. . . ."

Some of the onlookers laughed, and Severus spotted Mulciber, Lestrange, and Bella watching
from a distance. Lestrange's wand was half-raised, as if he wanted to intervene, but Bella's
hand was on his arm, holding him back. She met Severus' eyes and tilted her head, like she
was curious about what he would do next.

Severus cursed inwardly. He'd denounced Lily under Veritaserum, yet she was coming to his
rescue. He had to get rid of her somehow — he couldn't afford for the Intents to guess his
true feelings.

James and Lily were arguing; they seemed to have forgotten about Severus. Neither noticed
as he crawled towards his wand. He pointed it at James, who was still fixated on
Lily. Sectum, he thought, aiming at James' face.

There was a flash of light. James stumbled as the skin of his cheek split open, blood
speckling his robes and the grass at his feet. He turned on Severus, and the world around
Severus spun as he was hoisted upside-down into the air.

My own hex, he thought bitterly, fighting to keep his robes covering his pants. The bastard
hits me with my own hex —

"Let him down!" said Lily, but she sounded less insistent, like she was biting back a laugh.
Severus fought the urge to vomit, nauseous from vertigo and shame. She shouldn't see him
like this — exposed, ridiculed, half-naked —

James lifted his wand, and Severus collapsed onto the ground. He scrambled upright, but
Sirius hit him with another curse, and he keeled over, as stiff as a board. He hit the ground
face-first, cheek pressed into the dirt. His nose smarted from the impact, and something warm
and wet filled his nostrils.

Bella, Mulciber and Lestrange had drawn closer and were standing at the edge of the crowd.
Bella's hand hovered casually over the wand at her hip.

Severus met her eyes, begging her silently to intervene, but Bella shook her head. She
pointed her chin towards Lily, who had begun to argue with James again, and the implication
was clear. Her or us? We can't both be your saviour.

"Take the curse off him!" demanded Lily, who looked like she was ready to pull out her own
wand.
James hesitated; then he sighed and pointed his wand at Severus. "Finite."

The jinx lifted. Severus got unsteadily to his feet and cast an imploring glance at Bella, but
she widened her eyes innocently and didn't move. Her voice from months ago rang crystal-
clear through his skull, as if she had used Legilimency.

Honestly, you will have to choose between her or us at some point, but the choice will be
easy.

He should have known Bella was lying. It was never going to be easy.

"That's better, isn't it?" James asked Severus, eyeing him with distaste. "You're lucky Evans
was here to save you, Snivellus —"

All the rage and humiliation of that afternoon welled up in Severus, and the words poured out
of him unbidden. "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

There was a beat. A couple of the students whispered to each other, and James raised an
eyebrow. Behind him, Bella was smiling as she drew her wand.

Lily stared at Severus as if seeing him for the first time. "Fine." Her voice was flat. "I won't
bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

"Apologise to Evans!" shouted James, advancing on Severus. "After all you've put her
through, you dare —"

Lily whirled on James, fury blazing in her emerald eyes. "I don't want you to make him
apologise! You're as bad as he is!"

"What? I'd NEVER call you a — you-know-what!"

"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your
broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch you didn't even catch, hexing anyone who
annoys you just because you can — I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground
with that fat head on it. You make me SICK." She turned on her heel and stormed away
without so much as a glance at Severus.

Before Severus could slip away, there was another flash of light. The contents of his stomach
rushed into his throat as he hung upside-down in the air once more.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" James asked the crowd. Sirius laughed and
advanced on Severus, wand raised —

"That's quite enough, dear cousin." Bella stepped forward and levelled her wand at Sirius'
chest. Mulciber and Lestrange flanked her, wands drawn. "I think you've had your fun for
today."

James eyed them warily. He jerked his wand upwards and Severus fell to the ground. "Fine,"
he said shortly. "Come on, Padfoot —"
But Sirius was nose-to-nose with Bella. "I'm not afraid of you," he growled.

Bella laughed. "That's because you're stupid." Before Sirius could react, she flicked her
wand. Sirius went flying backwards, knocking students out of the way. He hit a nearby tree
with a crunch and crumpled into a senseless heap.

Bella turned her wand on James. "No more bullying," she said lightly. "You won't like what
happens to Sirius if you do."

James regarded her for a moment and nodded curtly.

"Let's go." Bella put an arm around Severus and steered him towards the castle. "We'll have a
nice dinner in Dungeon Thirteen. We'll celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" said Severus, his mind still on Lily. Salazar's fangs, she'd seen his pants —
and he'd called her a —

"You, Sev," said Bella, drawing him closer. "Celebrating you. You chose us. Like I always
knew you would."
 The Year in Review
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Lily Evans was angry.

She was so angry she didn't bother studying for her Arithmancy O.W.L. ("I could do Applied
Numerology in my sleep," she told a worried Mary), and she hardly cared when she left large
swathes of parchment blank during her History of Magic O.W.L.

It was all so ridiculous. Why was she being tested on the intricacies of goblin warfare when
not a single question alluded to the centuries of anti-Muggle sentiment in wizarding Britain?
Why were there no essays on Muggle-born assimilation into magical communities? It was as
if whoever had written the exam had forgotten that people like her existed — like they didn't
have a history.

And that made her furious.

She was angry with wizarding Britain and its nearsightedness. The world of magic and
wonder she had been promised when she was eleven was a lie. Being a Muggle-born witch
didn't make her special; it made her a second-class citizen.

Lily was angry about all of these things. Most of all, though, she was angry with herself.

"I've been an idiot," she said. She was sitting cross-legged in bed with Marlene and Parvana.
Marlene had brought cheese sandwiches up from the kitchens for lunch.

"I mean," said Marlene, talking around a chunk of sandwich, "you're gonna have to qualify
that statement."

Lily gaped at her. "Are you saying I really have been an idiot?"

"I know it's not what you want to hear," said Marlene, "but Severus is scum. And he's been
that way for ages. He took advantage of you, over and over. And because you have a kind
heart, you kept forgiving him."

"Thanks a lot," said Lily drily. "I know I was being stupid, it's just — he was my best friend.
Imagine if Mary started turning into a Death Eater. What would you do?"

"Probably the same thing you did," said Marlene. "Give her too many chances 'til she broke
my heart. I'm not judging you. I get it."

Parvana nodded, but her brow was furrowed. "I do think you shouldn't have taken your Felix
Felicis to get back at him," she said quietly.

"Come off it," said Marlene immediately. "That was brilliant. You should have seen the look
on Snivellus' face after you blew up half the dungeon, Lil."
"But she could have been seriously hurt," said Parvana. "She was seriously hurt. How is that
revenge?"

"I knew what I was doing," said Lily defensively. "It was my potion. I knew the risk I was
taking."

"Yeah," said Marlene. "Lily knew Madam Pomfrey would set her right."

"Even so," said Parvana. She took a bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "You
shouldn't hurt yourself to get back at someone else."

"Says the girl who nearly killed herself on the Quidditch pitch just so Ravenclaw wouldn't
win the Cup," Lily teased. Parvana's eyes widened, but Lily grinned at her. After a moment,
Parvana smiled back.

"I will say this," added Marlene. "Lily, your fingernail clippings are worth more than every
bone in Snivellus' body."

"More than those smelly robes he wears, too," said Lily. She tried to sound nonchalant, but
her cheeks began to burn as soon as the words left her mouth.

"The bright side — if there is one — is that you know where Snape stands now," said
Parvana. "Think of how long things could have dragged on if he were a better liar. At least
you can go home for the summer and get some space from him."

Lily groaned and flopped back onto the bed. "We're from the same town, Parvana. He's
practically my neighbour."

Parvana started to respond, but the door of the dormitory burst open with a bang, cutting her
off. Mary strode in, carrying a large bouquet of purple and white flowers. "We have a
situation," she announced, dropping the flowers on Lily's bed.

"I'll say." Marlene twirled a violet hyacinth sceptically between her fingers. "Are these from
James, or —"

"Worse," said Mary. She plucked Marlene's sandwich off the bed and took a bite. "And
there's more where that came from. A certain Slytherin named, quote, Snivellus Snake, end
quote, is currently standing outside Gryffindor Tower. He wants to —"

Marlene's eyes darkened. "Don't say apologise."

"You've got it," said Mary.

"Great," said Marlene. "Because clearly a bouquet of bloody hyacinths makes up for
destroying someone's potion and calling them a you-know-what…"

"Mudblood," said Lily dully, staring at the ceiling. Marlene and Parvana cringed.

Mary made a sympathetic face and patted Lily's hand. "I know this is so unfair, Lily, but he
says he doesn't care how long he has to wait. He wants to talk to you and he swore he'll sleep
outside the common room if he has to —"

"He's so dramatic," said Lily. "He spent all year avoiding me, but now that I'm done with
him, he won't leave me alone. Classic Severus. Eurgh." She groped for her wand on her
bedside table. "Incendio."

Immediately, the flowers around her caught fire, and Mary leapt off the bed with a shriek.
Parvana got up rather more gracefully, offering Marlene a hand.

"Nice one." Marlene pulled out her wand and sent a stream of water towards the smoking
remains of the flowers. "Evanesco."

The ashes vanished, and Lily rolled over, eyeing Marlene imploringly. "Do I have to talk to
him?"

"You can do whatever you want," said Marlene. "Let him sleep in the corridor, for all I care.
It's no less than what he deserves."

Lily groaned. "I should tell him to go away. He really will sleep out there."

"You see?" said Parvana. "He's punishing himself to get back at you. That's not healthy, it's
—"

"Okay, okay, point taken," said Marlene. She smoothed Lily's hair affectionately. "Look, if
you wanna talk to him, then do it. But if he doesn't bugger off, you have my permission to
turn him into a newt."

"A newt would be an improvement," grumbled Lily, but she stood up and pulled on her
nightgown. "At least they're not dramatic."

Severus was indeed waiting for her in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, wringing his
hands.

"I'm sorry," he said before she had even climbed out of the portrait hole.

"I'm not interested."

"Lily, please — I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. For all of it. For taking your potion, for —"

Lily's eyes narrowed. "Taking my potion?"

"Stealing it, then," amended Severus.

"Ruining it."

She thought he might argue that he didn't know about the protective enchantments, but he
said hastily, "That too. Ruining it."

"Great," she said. "You're sorry. Can I go back to my dormitory now?"

"Lily," he said, twisting the sleeves of his ratty robes. "As soon as I… when I called you —
what I called you — I knew I had made a mistake, it was just… my friends were there, and
—"

God, she should have expected this. Of course he was blaming what had happened on
Mulciber. Heaven forbid Severus admit that his behaviour was no one's fault but his own.

Lily inhaled deeply, trying to maintain her calm. "Excuse after excuse, Sev. I'm tired of
hearing it, so you can save your breath, alright?"

"I'll do better," he said. "I'll tell them all I've changed my mind — I'll tell Mulciber…"

Lily laughed, though the situation wasn't particularly funny. "You don't get it, do you, Sev?"
she asked. "Our friendship is over. You can tell Mulciber whatever you want, but I'm not
going back to being mates with you. Ever."

"You can't mean that," he said. "After all we've been through —"

"I do mean it," she said. "It's over. I only came out because Mary told me you were
threatening to sleep here."

"I was. I would have done. I'm so sorry for the potion, and I never meant to call you
Mudblood, it just —"

The slur fell too easily from his lips. "Slipped out, did it?" she said, and she could tell by the
way he blanched that he hadn't meant to say the word aloud a second time.

"I'm so sorry — if you forgive me, I'll —"

"No," she said coldly. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years — none of my friends
can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends, and
all your plots and schemes —"

"I swear, I'll tell them —"

"You know," said Lily, her voice rising, "if someone referred to me as a Death Eater, I'd curse
their lips off. There's a jinx for that, you know — Vomihominis. But you — you don't even
deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-
Know-Who, can you?"

Severus looked at her imploringly, but she met his gaze coolly, without blinking. She wasn't
going to let him wriggle his way out of this one. Finally, he dropped his head, ashamed.

"I can't pretend anymore," said Lily. "We both know there's a war coming. You've chosen
your way, I've chosen mine."

"Don't say that — you said you wouldn't fight..."

"I've changed my mind," she hissed. "My place in this war was decided by Death Eaters like
you, Sev, and I will fight against all you stand for until my last breath."
"No — listen, I didn't mean —"

"—To call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why
should I be any different?"

Severus' chin wrinkled. God, he wasn't about to cry, was he? She climbed back into the
portrait hole before he could speak.

As the painting swung shut, Lily pulled out her wand and aimed it directly at his chest. "I've
sworn to Marlene that I'll turn you into a newt if you try talking to me again," she said.
"So leave me alone."

That Saturday, Lily spent the evening patrolling the castle for the last time as a fifth-year
prefect. The corridors lay dark and quiet; most students were busy packing or lounging in
their common rooms.

She was on the second floor when a suit of armour tipped over with a crash, startling her. She
drew her wand, but before she could mutter a spell, Remus Lupin stepped around the fallen
knight, holding his hands up.

"Sorry about that, Lily," he said pleasantly. "Awfully clumsy of me." He pointed his wand at
the suit of armour, righting it, and fell into step beside her. "Nice night for a patrol, isn't it?
Mind if I join you?"

She shrugged. "If you want. I'm sort of in a mood."

"I've been known to get those myself from time to time," said Remus as they rounded a
corner. "I find chocolate usually helps."

Lily smiled a little. "That's something I'm looking forward to having at home. Actual
chocolate, the kind that doesn't move or scream or turn into something else when you take a
bite of it…"

"Toblerone's my favourite," said Remus. "It never screams. Very predictable."

Lily glanced at him. "You've had Muggle chocolate?"

"'Course I have," he said. "My mum was a Muggle. I thought you knew that."

Lily suddenly couldn't breathe. It was like an invisible hand had grabbed hold of her lungs
and squeezed. She and Remus were the only ones in their year to have lost parents; it was one
of the reasons she'd always felt a sense of solidarity with him. How could she have forgotten
his mum was a Muggle?"

"Shit," she said. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I didn't remember… that she was..."
Remus' eyes were a soft, murky green, like moss at the base of a tree. "Lily. It's fine. You've
got a lot on your plate recently — I don't expect you to go around memorising my family's
blood status on top of everything else."

"It's not fine," she said firmly. "It matters."

He looked a little surprised. "Why?"

"Because — it means you're a half-blood, like me. I mean, not exactly like me, because I'm
—" She really was not explaining herself well. "It's something we have in common, that's all.
I shouldn't have forgotten."

Remus hummed a little. "I don't think you should put so much weight on blood status. I
mean, for all intents and purposes, I might as well be a pure-blood. My mum died when I was
eight, and even before then, we were a magic household far more than a Muggle one. I don't
think I even rode in a car — a proper, Muggle car — until I was on my way to Platform Nine
and Three-Quarters for the first time."

"Oh," said Lily, abashed. She'd thought their upbringings had been similar, with magic in the
periphery. "I guess I assumed you grew up the same way I did."

Remus shook his head. "My childhood resembled Peter's, or James', far more than yours. It
had to."

She wasn't certain what he meant by that last bit. "I see."

They continued along the corridor without speaking. She suspected they were both thinking
about their childhoods and the people they'd left behind.

At last, Remus said, "I think you should be proud to be a Muggle-born."

"Yeah," said Lily sarcastically, "I'm very proud that a bunch of people I've never met hate me
for being born. So proud to be the butt of jokes, to be called names…"

"That's not what I meant," he said. "Being a Muggle-born is like knowing a foreign language,
or being from a different country. Like how James' family is from India. It's an insight into
another culture that not many wizards have."

She resented the comparison to James. "I'd rather only speak Magic and be done with it."

A thin line appeared between Remus' eyebrows, as though he could tell what she was
thinking. "About what happened by the lake —"

"Please don't apologise for it," she said. "I've had enough of that already, and you didn't do
anything wrong."

He shook his head. "I should have stepped in. James and Sirius went too far."

"I think they didn't go far enough, actually." She tried to sound nonchalant, but to her
embarrassment, her eyes filled with hot, wet tears.
"Oh, no," said Remus. "I'm sorry, Lily, I didn't mean —"

"S'alright," she said thickly, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "It just — God, it just really
hurt. When Sev called me — what he called me. It really, really hurt."

Remus sighed deeply. "You didn't deserve any of that, Lily. I wish it had never happened."

"Me, too." She sniffled. She wished she could pull some deeper meaning from the event,
some way to spin it as a lesson, or find a silver lining. But there was no bright side to be
found. Her best friend had called her the worst word he could say.

As they descended the stairs to the first floor, Lily furtively tried to dry her face and appear
normal. Remus was watching his own feet as he walked; he appeared to be debating
something with himself.

"Is there something you'd like to share?" she asked, determined to act as if she hadn't just
burst into tears.

Remus rubbed his mouth and nodded. "Yes, actually. I don't know if you noticed, but Sirius
and I had a bit of a falling-out this term. To make a long story short, he did something that
hurt me very badly. It ruined my trust in him."

"Oh, really?" said Lily. "You're still mates, though, aren't you? You two looked pretty
chummy in the common room last night, messing around with that expanding trunk of
yours..."

"Yeah, we made up," said Remus. "I forgave him. But only because he genuinely apologised.
When he said he was sorry, he meant every word."

"That's... "

"Surprising?" Remus gave her a wry smile.

"I mean… a little. Just knowing Sirius, he's not exactly in touch with his emotions, is he?"

"That's the understatement of the century," said Remus. "I told myself I'd only forgive him if
he apologised. I figured it would never happen. I was as surprised as you were."

"I'm glad he did," said Lily. "I've always admired your friendship. He's so much fun to be
around — too much, sometimes. But you keep him from jumping off a cliff just to see how
far down it goes. You two are good for each other. "

Remus tugged at his shirt collar and looked away. "Er — right. Yeah. I guess what I'm trying
to say is that I've been where you are. I'm sorry you had to lose a friend this year, too."

He gave her a little smile and patted her twice on the shoulder. The gesture was so awkwardly
boyish that she laughed and hugged him, her face pressing into his jumper. He'd gotten taller
than her — when had that happened? After a moment, he hugged her back.

"You big softie," Lily mumbled into the wool of his jumper.
"They don't call me Remus 'Bleeding Heart' Lupin for nothing," he replied, disentangling
himself from her. "Everything's going to be okay, Lily. I promise."

"Even if there's a war, and my best friend's on the other side?"

"Even so," said Remus. "You're worth ten of him, so keep your chin up."

"People keep telling me that. I —"

A rustle sounded from inside a nearby classroom, and Lily jumped. Remus pulled out his
wand and raised his eyebrows at her. "What do you think — Peeves the Poltergeist, or a
couple of shagging Ravenclaws?"

"My money's on Peeves," she said. "Ravenclaws are too smart to make noise past curfew."

"Bold statement," he said. "It's up to us prefects to find out." He tapped his wand on the door
handle. There was a faint click and the door creaked open.

Lily grinned and followed him inside.

The Slytherin's induction ceremony as Followers took place at midnight on the last day of
term. The centre of Dungeon Thirteen was conspicuously empty; the usual sofas, tea tables
and chairs had been relegated to the sides of the room. At the far end of the dungeon, in three
high-backed white chairs, sat Bella, Lucius and a third, heavyset Death Eater with tan skin.
They faced the Intents like a panel of judges.

"Please sit," said Lucius as the Intents filed in. He gestured at the row of chairs lining the
opposite end of the room from the Death Eaters.

Severus mentally berated himself as he took a seat between Mulciber and Avery, who were
wearing finely tailored black robes. He wished he had thought to wear dress robes. He
wished he owned dress robes. One day.

"I trust you have remembered to bring your pledges," said the third Death Eater in a gravelly,
vaguely familiar voice. "We will now accept them as a token of your dedication to the
brotherhood."

"Evan Rosier," said Bella sweetly, "would you like to go first?"

"Erm, alright," said Rosier. He stood up, adjusted his robes — his expensive, silken dress
robes — and strode forward to stand in front of the judges. He pulled a small grey cube out of
his pocket and levelled his wand at it. The cube grew larger and larger until it wasn't a cube at
all, but a cage, containing —
"A Rougarou," said Rosier. "My father and I went hunting in America over the Easter
holidays, and we managed to capture one. I thought the Dark Lord might find some use for
it."

Severus stared at the creature, repulsed. Its body was humanoid, but it had the head of a
massive, slavering dog. It thrashed against the bars of the cage, its jaws open, but no sound
came from its mouth. Its eyes were rolling madly, and yet — they looked almost human.
Something about the irises. Like the eyes of the werewolf, Severus thought.

Lucius nodded appreciatively, and Bella let out a low whistle. "Impressive," she said. "If
you'll allow us to confer…"

The three judges bent their heads together, whispering. Finally, Lucius turned towards Rosier.
"We accept your pledge," he said. "Welcome to the brotherhood, Evan Rosier."

Lucius gestured towards Bella. She stood and held up a dark cloak with a large hood, draping
it over Rosier's shoulders. The silver clasp which she fastened around his neck was shaped
like a skull with the tongue of a serpent. Rosier bowed low in front of the Death Eaters and
returned to his chair, where he sat with his hood up.

Wilkes went next, presenting the judges with a string of shrunken heads capable of stealing a
person's voice. After him came Rabastan Lestrange, whose hands shook the entire time, and
then Mulciber, who had brought an assortment of valuable heirlooms from his family's vault.
The third Death Eater looked especially pleased with Mulciber's pledge, and Severus
suddenly realised why he seemed so familiar; he was the spitting image of Mulciber.

After Mulciber came Avery, who simply donated a decent amount of gold, insipid dullard
that he was. Severus rather thought that Bella was fighting not to yawn throughout Avery's
entire pledge.

Finally, Severus was the last one left. All the other Intents were wearing their hooded cloaks.

"I've got something a bit different prepared," he said, standing up. "Bella, if you would…"

Bella nodded and raised her wand. Three different pelts appeared between Severus and the
judges, hanging in the air as though suspended by invisible strings.

"This first hide," said Severus, touching the pelt on the far left, "is werewolf fur. Notoriously
resistant to most forms of spell-casting. Bella, if you were to fight a werewolf, which spell
would you use?"

"The Killing Curse," she said instantly, and the Intents laughed. Even Lucius let out a small
chuckle.

"Let me rephrase that," said Severus. "Say the Dark Lord has tasked you with subjugating a
werewolf. How would you do this?"

"That would be difficult," said Bella. "Werewolf fur is so magically resistant that most spells
are ineffective. Even the Cruciatus will only tickle it."
"Would you care to demonstrate?"

"Absolutely." Bella drew her wand. "Reducto. Stupefy. Confringo."

The werewolf pelt absorbed each spell with ease. The Blasting Curse vanished into it with a
muffled thump, and the fur swayed gently, as if moved by a breeze.

"See? Ineffective." Bella placed her wand delicately across her lap.

"Exactly," said Severus. "Hence the need for my spell." He slashed his wand through the air
like he was wielding a sword. "Sectumsempra!"

There was a flash of light, and the pelt lay in ribbons at his feet.

"Giant skin and troll hide are similar, aren't they?" he continued. He touched the two
remaining hides that hung in the air. "Known to be resistant to magic. Well, no
more. Sectumsempra!"

The giant skin and troll hide rent open instantly, joining the werewolf pelt in strips on the
ground. Lucius' mouth was slightly open, and Severus felt a small rush of pride.

"This is my pledge to the brotherhood," said Severus. "We will not be defenceless against
these Dark creatures."

"I see," said Lucius slowly. "Allow us to confer." He turned towards Bella and Mulciber's
father, but their whispers lasted only a moment.

"Severus Snape," said Lucius. "It is unanimous: we accept your pledge. Welcome to the
brotherhood."

Bella rose, beaming, to drape a cloak over Severus' shoulders. The cloak was heavy and well-
made, likely more expensive than every article of clothing he owned combined. She reached
for the clasp, but Severus put his hands over hers, and she stilled. He fastened the clasp
himself.

As Severus returned to his seat, Lucius stood up. "You all have done well," he said. "As of
tonight, you are Secondaries." He turned to Lestrange, who nearly tripped over his robes in
his haste to stand up. "Rabastan, tomorrow marks the end of your Hogwarts career. Would
you like to fight on the front lines for us?"

"I would be honoured, sir." Lestrange's voice cracked, but he bowed deeply.

"I will expect you at Malfoy Manor during the new moon, then," said Lucius. "As for the rest
of you — the Dark Lord requires you to finish your schooling at Hogwarts. Over the summer,
you will await further instructions. You are not to tell anybody that you have become
Secondaries. If you do, we will know, and the consequences will be… unpleasant. Do I make
myself clear?"

Severus and the other Intents — Secondaries, now— nodded, and Lucius smiled widely.
"Congratulations," he said. "You will not regret joining the brotherhood."

Bella stopped Severus in the corridor before he could follow his housemates back to the
common room. "I'm leaving tonight with Lucius," she said.

"So you won't be taking the train tomorrow?"

"Waste of time," she said loftily, adjusting her robes. "Like so much in this castle."

"I suppose," said Severus, looking carefully at her. She was still taller than him, but not by
much. "Thank you for getting those pelts for me. And for… well. For everything, I guess."

"It's been a pleasure." She gave him a small smile. "Everything gets better from here, Sev.
Just wait until next year. Or, better, wait until you're out of school. You'll see."

"I expect I will."

"Last thing," said Bella. She grabbed him by the shoulders and stared into his eyes. Severus
felt a familiar sensation at the back of his mind, and he nearly smiled. Then he showed her
what she wanted to see.

Memories of Lily flashed in his mind, tinged with nostalgia but not regret. The memories
rose at random, uncoupled from strong emotion — they were playing on a playground as
children, they were riding the Hogwarts Express for the umpteenth time, they were passing
each other in the corridors on the way to class. Their recent row outside Gryffindor Tower,
where he'd begged her forgiveness, where he swore he'd abandon the Dark Arts, didn't feature
at all. Lily, it would seem, was a childhood sweetheart he had outgrown. Nothing more.

It wasn't the truth. But Bella wasn't looking for the truth.

"Good," she said, releasing him. "You're ready. I'll miss you, Severus."

No, you won't. He raised a shoulder, noncommittal. "Something tells me I'll be seeing you
again."

Just like that, the term was over, and James was packing the last of his things into his trunk
and saying goodbye to the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. On the train ride
to London, he, Sirius and Peter managed to find an empty compartment at the back of the
Hogwarts Express.

Remus joined them after finishing his patrol of the train. "Snape's sharing a compartment
with Mulciber and his gang," he said, taking a seat beside Peter. "They're all looking quite
pleased about something or other."
"'Course they are," said James. "Snivellus called Evans a Mudblood in front of the entire
school after putting her in the hospital wing. I'm sure they're patting themselves on the back
while plotting who they can humiliate next."

"It's weird, isn't it?" asked Peter. "Having schoolmates who actually think What's-His-Name's
doing the right thing?"

"Nah, it's not." Sirius stretched his long legs across the compartment. "Spend the summer
with my family and you'll see. Plenty of people think Whoever-He-Is has got the right idea."

James began to cast about frantically for a change of subject, lest Sirius begin ruminating on
his upcoming holiday with his terrible family. "Er," he said, "y'know, I'd never really thought
about it before, but do we know who he is? This great evil wizard everyone talks about in
hushed tones, I mean."

"I haven't the foggiest," said Peter, and Remus shook his head.

"Isn't that the point?" Sirius seemed determined not to be pulled out of his foul mood. "If
nobody knows anything about him, he's got plausible deniability. Maybe he's just a figment
of our imaginations, and the Muggles are killing themselves off."

Peter snorted. "That's likely."

The compartment door opened, and Parvana tumbled in, followed by Marlene and Mary, who
was dragging Lily by the hand.

"Budge up!" said Marlene, nearly falling into Sirius' lap. "Make some room, fellas, you know
what time it is…"

Sirius groaned. "The Year in Review?"

"That's right!" said Mary brightly. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess," mumbled Peter, whose face was being squashed into the window as Mary
squeezed into the seat next to him.

"Everyone's here, right?" asked Lily, counting heads. She seemed to skip over James' wild
mop of hair entirely; since that day by the lake, she'd taken to acting like h he didn't exist.

"I think so," said Parvana. She settled herself beside James, their thighs touching.

"Great!" Marlene clapped her hands together. "Now we can start. Alright, fifth year
Gryffindors — show of hands, who here had an excellent year?"

Mary and James raised their hands immediately, followed by Peter and Parvana. After some
consideration, Remus put his hand in the air, as well. Lily's hands remained clasped in her
lap, and Sirius was staring out the window, arms folded.

James kicked Sirius in the shins. "What do you mean, you didn't have an excellent year, you
great lump? Just because you're mopey now, doesn't mean —"
"Three words," snapped Sirius. "The entire month of April. Sound familiar?"

"That's five words," said Remus. "Seven, if you count the second sentence."

Sirius began to make a rude hand gesture at Remus, but Marlene caught his arm.

"Not in the spirit of the game!" she said. "Let's focus here. So five of us had an excellent
year, six counting me. Six over eight is…" She scrunched up her face, calculating. "Alright,
that's an Acceptable, I'll take it. Next question: did we win the Quidditch Cup?"

"We did!" cheered Mary. Peter let out a loud whoop. James took an exaggerated bow and
nudged Parvana, who blushed as the rest of the compartment applauded.

"We certainly did," said Marlene, motioning for the others to quiet down. "For the first time
in nearly a decade. All thanks to one inspired Captain and our brilliant Seeker. And myself,
of course," she added as an afterthought. "So I'll give us full marks in the 'Quidditch'
category. Next: did we win the House Cup?"

"Well," said Remus with the air of someone trying to head off a confrontation, "we
weren't last —"

"Third place is our best yet," added James. "Let's not forget that."

Marlene and Mary rolled their eyes at each other, and Parvana sighed.

"I don't get it," said Lily. "I know you lot get loads of detentions, but you earn a fair amount
of points, too. Not to mention we won the Quidditch Cup. How did we end up third?"

"Two words," said Sirius. He was still facing the window, but there was a slight smirk
playing around his lips. "We got carried away with the expanding trunk."

"Technically," said Remus, "that's eight —"

"Oh, God," said Lily. "You didn't —"

"Unfortunately, we did." James pushed his glasses up his nose. "It turns out there is a limit to
Undetectable Extension Charms. And it turns out we found that limit. In Professor
McGonagall's office."

"Remus John Lupin," said Lily, rounding on him. "Don't tell me that racket we heard while
on patrol —"

Remus did his best to look shamefaced. "I was charged with distracting the prefects on duty.
Which happened to be me and you."

"I don't believe it," said Lily. "I thought you were spending time with me because you enjoy
my company."

"It's not mutually exclusive," said Remus. "We had quite a nice night, didn't we?"
"Careful, Lupin, you'll make James jealous with that kind of talk," warned Marlene, and
James reached across the compartment to shove her good-naturedly. "So, third in the House
Cup nets us a Poor, which is up from the Dreadful of previous years, so I'll allow it. Last
category — and this is the one I'm most disappointed with you all on — romance."

Sirius perked up a little. "I snogged Daisy Hookum. I did my part."

"You didn't snog Daisy Hookum," said Peter scathingly. "You closed-mouth kissed her. That's
not snogging."

"Yeah, well, I would have snogged her, if I hadn't had to keep a lea—"

"Alright, alright," said James. "Look, Marly, I'm sorry we keep letting you down with our
love lives. But we've had, er, extenuating circumstances for the past couple of years, which
have prevented us from snogging girls to our hearts' content."

"Told you they're all snogging each other," Lily muttered to Mary, who giggled.

"Evans —" said James, but he stopped short when she glared at him. He ran his hands
through his hair in frustration. There was no point explaining why they'd been carrying leaves
around in their mouths since the middle of year three. It would just complicate things.

"I snogged someone," volunteered Parvana. Her cheeks darkened as she spoke. "Bertram
Aubrey. It was after Hufflepuff lost."

"A pity snog?" asked Sirius, raising an eyebrow.

"I still think it counts," said Parvana, and Marlene nodded.

"Peter and I snogged, too, after we won the Quidditch Cup," said Mary. Everyone stared at
her, Peter included. "You might not remember," she told him. "You'd had a lot of Sirius'
drinks. But it happened. So I guess that counts."

"I… I remember," stammered Peter. "I just didn't think —"

"You've been holding out on us, Pete!" roared Sirius, leaning across the aisle to smack Peter
on the shoulder. "I can't believe you've gotten more action than I have."

"Right," said Marlene, "so three snogs —"

"Two snogs and a closed-mouth kiss," corrected Remus. He widened his eyes innocently as
Sirius turned towards him.

"Another P, unfortunately," said Marlene, shaking her head.

"That's just dismal," said Lily. "We did better in year two. And we were twelve then."

"At least we did well in Quidditch," said Marlene. "I expect us to get the House Cup next
year, though."
"Second place or bust!" cheered James, and Mary applauded.

Remus stood up, stretching. "I think I hear the trolley witch. Who wants a Chocolate Frog?"

The Hogwarts Express was pulling into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by the time they
had finished their Chocolate Frogs. Lily and Mary excused themselves to change into their
Muggle clothes, and the other girls trickled out of the compartment as the train slowed to a
stop.

James' mother and father were waiting for him partway down the platform, sitting on a
bench. His dad's shock of silver hair was unmistakable, the signature Potter curls bleached
white by time. His mum was wearing a checkered red sari with stripes of gold at the edges,
the exact colours of Gryffindor. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful.

At the sight of his parents, James' heart lifted until he thought he might float off the platform.
He felt weightless with joy, like his Animagus was a bird instead of a stag.

"Mum," he called. "Dad!"

His parents turned at the sound of his voice, and he ran towards them, not caring that he was
sixteen and maybe too old to love them so much. He gave them both a long hug — his
mother smelled warm, like vanilla — before turning back to say goodbye to his friends.

It was then that he realised that Platform Nine and Three Quarters was not as he remembered
it. At the far end of the platform stood a crowd of parents dressed in Muggle clothing. They
were surrounded by wizards wearing dragon-hide leather and crimson robes draped over their
shoulders.

"Dad," said James slowly, "are those —"

Fleamont Potter nodded solemnly. "Aurors."

"Why are they here?"

"Protection, I'd assume."

Sirius caught James' eye and strolled over, hands in his pockets. "You've noticed too, eh?" he
said, jerking his head towards the Aurors. "Clearly, we've missed something while we've
been away. Maybe we should start reading the Daily Prophet."

"Maybe," said James. Lily had walked up to one of the Aurors, trunk in tow, and was asking
him something. The Auror looked sceptical, and Lily produced a slip of paper from her bag
for him to examine. After a moment, the Auror nodded and stepped aside.

A plump woman with auburn hair pushed her way to the front of the crowd, and Lily threw
her arms around her. As they embraced, the Auror watched them warily, one hand hovering
over his wand holster.

"Protection," repeated James. "Dad, who are the Aurors supposed to be protecting? Them, or
us?"
 "That's the question, isn't it?" His father clapped a hand on James' shoulder. "Come on, son.
Let's get you home."

Chapter End Notes

So ends year 5! If you've made it this far, I would love if you left a comment :) Doesn't
have to be anything big, whatever you have to say means so much to me!

Thanks so much for sticking with the story, and enjoy year 6!
 The Dog Days of Summer
Chapter Notes

Welcome to year 6! The Marauders are getting older, and their world is getting darker as
the war approaches.

A couple of warnings for year 6: non-explicit references to child abuse,

bullying/physical assault, death of a minor character, and characters dealing with the
aftermath of trauma.

Of course, I'd love to hear any thoughts you have, so feel free to leave a comment! I try
to answer them all.

Enjoy!

Being able to turn into a dog at will had done wonders for Sirius Black's relationship with his
family.

At the start of the summer holidays, after a particularly vicious argument with his mother,
Sirius stormed out of Grimmauld Place, transformed into Padfoot, and promptly shat on the
troll-skin doormat.

He was in the park across the street, sitting in a swing and dragging his heels in the dirt, when
Regulus found him that evening.

"Mum's furious, you know," said Regulus. "That doormat was made from the hide of
Bladbog the Basher. It's worth thousands."

"Can't prove it was me," said Sirius. "I don't own a dog."

"Right," said Regulus sarcastically. "I'm sure she has absolutely no idea who it might have
been." He sat in the swing beside Sirius and twisted back and forth in the seat.

"I can't do this for another two months," said Sirius suddenly. "Listening to her tirades against
Muggles every night over dinner. As if it isn't her fault we live in the middle of non-magical
London instead of Stoke St Pure-blood."

Regulus nearly smiled. "It would be nice to discuss something new once in a while."

Sirius tipped his head back. The sky was awash with the last orange rays of the setting sun.
"What do normal families chat about, d'you reckon?"

"Beats me," said Regulus. "The state of their neighbours' gardens, maybe?"
Sirius snorted. "Even if Mum wasn't a madwoman, I can't see her caring too much about
number eleven's hydrangeas."

"That's a crepe myrtle," said Regulus, craning his neck towards the row of houses.
"Hydrangeas grow on bushes."

"Look at you," said Sirius. "So cultured. No wonder Mum's so proud."

A flush crept up Regulus' pale neck. "What are you going to do about her? About both of
them?"

"Dunno," said Sirius. "Considering offing myself. That'll show them."

"It's half a year until you're of age," Regulus pointed out. "Offing yourself seems a little
premature."

"Fair point," said Sirius. "Think I'll go with Plan B, then."

And before Regulus could open his mouth to ask what Plan B was, there was a rustle at his
side and Sirius vanished, replaced by an enormous, shaggy black dog.

Regulus practically jumped out of his swing. "Good lord, Sirius," he said, which was about
the strongest language Sirius had ever heard him use. "Don't tell me you've gone and —"

The dog panted happily, tongue lolling out of its mouth, and then Sirius was stretching his
long arms towards the sky, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Plan B," he said. "We'll tell them you got a dog. You meant to surprise them with it over
dinner, but your irresponsible older brother startled the poor beast, and it defecated on the
doormat —"

"Not on your life," said Regulus. "That's not a dog, Sirius, that's a hellhound. They won't fall
for it."

"They will," said Sirius. "They can't say no to you, Reg. Tell them I've run away, and that
Padfoot here is a very good boy —"

"Padfoot," repeated Regulus shakily. "You've named your dog self Padfoot."

"'Course I did.” Sirius smiled, but his eyes were dark. "Our dear sweet mum tells me daily
I'm a walking nightmare who's brought ruin to the family name. What else would I be, except
a Grim?"

Walburga Black was none too happy that Regulus had adopted a dog, but as Sirius had
predicted, she wasn't able to say no to her youngest son. And so life at Grimmauld Place
improved for Sirius.

He spent most of his time as Padfoot in Regulus' room, appearing in human form only for
meals and vanishing up the stairs afterwards, before either one of his parents could bait him
into an argument. Life was simpler as Padfoot; he didn't care much about anything that wasn't
sleeping or eating. Most days, he was content to curl up on Regulus' bed while Regulus
sketched in his journal or read a book.

Lazy days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Walburga and the dog maintained an
uneasy truce, and Kreacher began passing it scraps.

All in all, Sirius and his parents might have passed a cordial, uneventful summer together, if
only he hadn't met Dorcas Meadowes.

It was an unseasonably hot day in July, the kind of day where sweat seemed to soak his shirt
the moment he set foot outside. Regulus had been puzzling over a Transfiguration essay for
the better part of the morning, leaving Sirius utterly bored, so he decided to sneak out of
Grimmauld Place, intent on trying a cigarette from the Muggle off-licence on the corner.

He hadn't even gone as far as the park when he saw a motorbike leaning against the kerb, all
sleek black and gleaming chrome. He'd never seen anything like it before. They'd had lessons
on autos in Muggle Studies, but this was something different. It was like a broomstick with
wheels.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer."

A girl about his age was standing in front of him, one hand on her hip and the other holding a
large helmet. She had smooth, black skin and fluffy hair that framed her face like a halo.

"Is that yours?" he asked, gesturing towards the bike.

"Nah," said the girl. "I've got the keys, though." She pulled a set of keys out of the pocket of
her jeans and jangled them at him.

Sirius did a double take. Not only was she wearing jeans, but she also had on a sleeveless top.
Muggle clothes. He'd taken Muggle Studies since third year, and Grimmauld Place was in the
heart of Muggle London, but he'd never actually had a conversation with a Muggle before.
He wasn't sure what to say.

"Seriously," said the girl. "Cool it with the staring. I'm considering buying you a camera."

Her voice brought Sirius out of his reverie. He laughed and ran a hand through his long black
hair. "Wanna buy me a cigarette, instead?"

"Just one?" she asked, a slight crease forming between her brows.

Sirius shrugged. "Or as many as you want. I'm not picky."

"They generally come in packs of twenty, you know."

"Ten for me and ten for you," he said. "Sounds like a plan."

"You can have all twenty," she said. "I don't smoke."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "A good girl, are you?"

"Hardly," she said. "They give you cancer."

"The cigarettes?"

She gave him a look. "What rock did you crawl out from under?"

"I should've mentioned," he said. "I don't get out much."

"That's obvious," said the girl, gesturing at his clothes. She straddled the bike and turned to
Sirius, who was still standing on the pavement. "Are you coming or what?"

Sirius grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

She offered him the helmet as he settled behind her on the bike. "Protect that pretty face of
yours," she said.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

"I think you think you're pretty."

"Well, I don't need the helmet," he said. "I'm not that breakable."

The girl shrugged and pulled the helmet over her head. "It's your face." She turned the key in
the ignition switch and the bike roared to life. It was the most beautiful sound Sirius had ever
heard.

"Put your arms around me," ordered the girl, and Sirius complied. He tried very hard not to
think about the feel of her hips, or her stomach, or her waist.

"What is this thing called?" asked Sirius in an attempt to distract himself. "It's not an
automobile, right?"

The girl's helmeted head swivelled towards him. Sirius couldn't see her expression, but he
knew she was giving him another look.

"Remember," he called over the rumble of the engine, "I don't get out much."

"It's a bike," she said.

"No it's not," he said. "I know what a bike is. They're made of hollow metal rods and have
foot-pedals that turn the wheels."

"This is a motorbike," she said. "God, are you serious?"

He grinned.
She bought him a pack of cigarettes with a red stripe on the carton, along with a lighter for
good measure, and drove him back to the park. She laughed when he threw up after his third
cigarette. He retaliated by pinning her to the ground and tickling her until tears streamed
down her cheeks.

"Are you crying?" he asked.

She pushed him off and sat up. "It's sweat."

"Girls don't sweat," he said.

"I'm not a girl," she said with a wink. "I'm a woman."

"That's too bad," said Sirius. "I don't date women. Only girls."

She stretched lazily. "I'm not bothered. I've already got a boyfriend."

"Do you, now. What's his name?"

"Robert," she said. "What's yours?"

"Sirius."

"Bullshit."

"Unfortunately, it's true. Spelt like the star, though. Not the adjective."

"I don't know if I believe you," she said.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't care what you believe. But it is my name."

"You can call me Dorcas," she said. "Spelled like Dorcas."

Sirius let out a laugh before he could stop himself. He held up his hands as she glared at him.
"Sorry, sorry."

"Your name isn't any better, you know."

"Mine might actually be worse.” He gave her a lopsided grin. "Dorcas means 'gazelle' in
Greek, did you know?"

"You speak Greek?"

"Yeah, some."

Dorcas sat up and lifted the hair off the back of her neck, fanning herself. "How do you know
Greek but you've never seen a motorbike before?"

"There were a lot of gaps in my education."

"I can see that," she said. "Do you speak anything else?"
"Of course," said Sirius. "French and Latin are my best ones. And I can do a bit of Mermish.
You?"

"Yeah, some Creole," she said. She folded her arms behind her head and flashed him a smile.
"My parents are from the West Indies."

"That doesn't mean anything to me."

"Of course it doesn't." Her smile grew incredulous. "I don't suppose world geography made it
into your curriculum."

"Now you're getting it," said Sirius. "Keep your expectations low with me."

They lay on their backs in the park until long shadows fell across the grass and the
temperature cooled around them.

Dorcas stood and checked her watch. "I should go. Mum'll want me back."

Sirius got up languidly and offered her his arm. "I'll walk you to your motorbike."

"A gentleman," said Dorcas as she looped her arm through his. "At least your parents taught
you manners, if nothing else."

Sirius laughed loudly. "You have no idea."

"I still haven't decided if I think you're just taking the piss, you know." She swung her leg
over her motorbike. "See you around?"

"I hope so," said Sirius.

Dorcas grinned. There was a small gap between her front teeth. "Me too. Night, weirdo."

Sirius spent the following week waiting for an opportunity to sneak out again. At last, he had
a flash of brilliance, resulting in Padfoot having an accident on the oriental rug in the drawing
room. His mother and Kreacher were so upset that they tied Padfoot to one of the cast iron
bars of the fence in front of the house.

As soon as his mother had slipped back into Grimmauld Place, Kreacher at her heels, Sirius
transformed back into a human. He pulled the now-loose rope over his head and strode out
the front gate, towards the park.

Dorcas wasn't there, so he began to wander the nearby streets, on the lookout for anything
that so much as resembled a motorbike. After half an hour of searching, he heard a familiar
rumble behind him. The noise grew louder and louder until Dorcas pulled up next to him.
"Need a ride, pretty boy?"

"Gladly," he said. He straddled the seat and put his arms around her waist. "Where are we
going?"

"It's hot," she said. "I want ice cream. Do you know what that is?"

"Of course."

"Don't 'of course' me, Mr What's-A-Motorbike."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

He could barely hear her response over the roar of the engine. "Never."

Once they reached the ice cream parlour, Dorcas batted her eyes at him. "Want to be a
gentleman and treat me?"

"Ah," said Sirius. "Here's the thing. I have no money."

She pursed her lips, examining him critically. "Your fancy goth outfit says otherwise."

"I wear these clothes because my parents have money," said Sirius. "But they don't trust me
with it."

"Fine.” Dorcas pulled a handful of strangely-shaped coins from her back pocket. "But you
owe me."

They ate their ice cream on a bench, thighs touching.

"I think I'm in love," announced Sirius as he bit into his ice cream cone.

Dorcas nudged him. "I have a boyfriend, remember?"

"Not with you, you vain bird," he said. "With your motorbike. It's perfect."

She laughed. "I told you before, it's not mine."

Sirius nearly dropped the cone in his lap as a thought occurred to him. "Don't tell me it's your
boyfriend's."

"God, no," said Dorcas. "It's my dad's." She paused for a moment, staring at her ice cream.
"Used to be, anyway. He died last year." She said it casually, but her shoulders tensed as if
readying for a blow.

"Merlin," said Sirius, scrambling for words. Emotional support had never been his strong
suit. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," said Dorcas. "I miss him."

Sirius had no idea how to respond to that. If one of his parents died, he had a feeling he
wouldn't mind at all, and the thought twisted his gut uncomfortably. "What happened?"

"Lung cancer," she said. "He was a smoker."

"Merlin," said Sirius again. He pushed his hair back with a hand. "And I made you buy me
cigarettes. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Dorcas. The corners of her mouth curved upwards. "I wanted to buy them for
you. Plus you didn't even know that cigarettes cause cancer."

"About that," said Sirius. A question had formed in his mind, and he wanted to phrase it
delicately, despite generally not being very good at 'delicate'. "Is cancer… can your Healers
not… I mean, your doctors, they can't fix cancer?"

Dorcas was frowning at him now. "Come on, weirdo. Don't joke."

"I'm not," said Sirius quickly. "Swear I'm not."

Dorcas looked at him warily, as if she expected him to break into a laugh at her expense. But
he wasn’t sure what there was to laugh about. At last, she said, "I think they can cure some
kinds. Not lung cancer, though."

"Oh," said Sirius. He was well and truly at a loss for words now. Wizards got cancer, too, but
it was no more serious than a bad head cold. His own father had come down with a type of
bone cancer a few years back, and the Healer at St Mungo's had simply made him drink a
foul-smelling purple potion every morning for a week. It didn't seem right, somehow, that
Muggles still died of cancer when wizards had potions that could cure it.

"Do you believe in an afterlife?" asked Dorcas, startling Sirius out of his thoughts.

"Of course," he said.

She blinked. "Really? You don't seem like the type."

He shrugged. "I don't suppose you've ever seen a ghost?"

"Erm," she said. "Definitely not. Have you?"

"Yeah, loads," said Sirius. "They're kind of boring, though. You're not missing anything."

Dorcas' mouth was slightly open. "You are impressively weird."

"Remind me to invite you over sometime," he said. "You'll see where I get it from the minute
you set foot in my house."

"No offence, but I hardly know you," she said. "It's a little soon to meet the parents, don't you
think?"
Sirius barked a laugh. "Sneaking you into my house is different than letting you meet my
parents. With any luck, you'll never have the misfortune of making their acquaintance."

"Really?" she said. "They're that bad?"

Sirius met her dark eyes, and the humour faded from his face. "Trust me," he said. "Whatever
you're thinking, they're worse."

Dorcas gave him her telephone number after they'd finished their ice cream, and they began
to meet whenever he was able to sneak out of Grimmauld Place. This became easier and
easier as the summer went on, as both of his parents began to attend frequent meetings in
Knockturn Alley. They spoke about these excursions in hushed tones around their sons,
always using terms like 'the conference in you-know-where' and 'the donation to you-know-
what'. One evening, Regulus overheard their father on a Floo call in his study, and he
whispered to Sirius that night that whatever their parents were doing involved substantial
monetary contributions.

Sirius, for his part, was beyond caring what his parents did with their Galleons, so long as he
was still able to spend time with Dorcas. She took him to the cinema to see his first moving
picture outside of the old reels Professor Davis had shown during Muggle Studies, and Sirius
was able to get them free popcorn by flirting with the boy working the concession stand. The
next time they met, she bought him a stack of magazines featuring motorcycles and girls in
bikinis, and they spent the better part of an afternoon flipping through them.

One hot weekend in August, Sirius' parents left for a meeting up north, hosted by the same
people who organised the meetings in Knockturn Alley. Sirius wasted no time in locking
Kreacher in an armoire before leaving Grimmauld Place to call Dorcas in a public telephone
box.

"Come over," he said. "My parents are out. Give me an hour to get ready, though."

By the time she'd pulled up on her motorbike, Sirius had managed to undo most of the
Muggle-Repelling Charms that lay on Grimmauld Place. He still hadn't figured out how to
make the front door visible to Muggles, though.

"This is going to sound weird," he said, "but you're going to have to close your eyes, and I'll
lead you inside."

"That's not nearly the weirdest thing you've ever said," replied Dorcas, peering at the row of
houses. "Which one is yours?"

"Number eleven," lied Sirius. He covered her eyes gently with his hands and steered her
through the garden and up the steps of Grimmauld Place.
Once inside, he lifted his hands from her face. Dorcas blinked in astonishment. Her gaze was
immediately drawn to the huge portraits lining the hallway, whose occupants turned their
heads to peer at the newcomer.

"I say," said the portrait closest to the front door — Pollux Black, Sirius' late grandfather.
"You have some nerve, young man, bringing a girl like her inside this noblest of residences
—"

"Sirius," said Dorcas slowly, staring at the painting, "what the — is that…"

"Right," said Sirius. He took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs. "Quick primer:
magic is real, my family are wizards, and so am I. Those are magical, talking portraits of my
lunatic ancestors. Any questions?"

"Bullshit," said Dorcas, but her eyes were wide as saucers as they ascended the stairs,
climbing past the decapitated house-elf heads hanging on the wall. "This can't be real. I'm
dreaming."

"Afraid not," said Sirius. They reached the topmost landing, and he shouldered open the door
to his room. "What do you think?" he asked proudly. "I've been redecorating."

"Erm," said Dorcas. Her eyes wandered over the walls of Sirius' room, which were plastered
with pictures from the magazines she had bought him. "Yeah, that's nice. Can we go back to
the part where you said you were a wizard?"

"Alright, hang on a moment," said Sirius. He picked up his wand from atop the chest of
drawers and pointed it at the door. "Muffliato."

He turned back to Dorcas, who was staring at him with her brow creased and her mouth
slightly ajar. "My brother's in the next room," he explained. "Don't want him overhearing us."

"Did you…" she began. "Did you just do a spell? With your magic wand?"

Sirius grinned. "Now you're catching on. Technically, I'm not supposed to do magic outside
of school until I'm seventeen, but the Blacks have been flouting the rules and getting away
with it for centuries, so no worries. That's because we're a pure-blood family — means we
don't have any non-magical blood. Also, there are wizards who hate non-magical people like
you. Including my family. Not me, though, because I'm not an idiot like the rest of them." He
cocked his head at her expression. "Did you get all that?"

"Magic family," she said, sinking down slowly onto his bed. "Hate people without magic.
Also, magic is real."

"Good girl." Sirius nodded his head. "You're getting it."

"This is a dream," said Dorcas, and she slapped at her cheeks.

"Wait, wait!" said Sirius, taking her hands in his. "None of that, now."
"How can you be magic?" she asked. "How can — how could I live for seventeen years and
not know magic was real?"

"It's because you're a Muggle," he said. "Non-magic. You're not supposed to know. It's
illegal, actually."

"Oh, God," said Dorcas. "I'm going to be arrested by the wizard police."

"Nah." Sirius plopped next to her on the bed. "I've broken the law hundreds of times and
gotten away with it. It's not a big deal. That spell I did on the door was technically illegal
because I'm underage. Also, I can turn into a dog at will, and that's illegal too, because I
didn't register myself as an Animagus. But I'm still here, so…"

"You're mental," said Dorcas. "What happens if someone finds out you told me about
magic?"

"Nothing. Nobody's going to."

"But what if they do?"

Sirius put his finger on the spot between her eyebrows, smoothing the crease that had formed
there. "In theory, they'd modify your memory. Erase it, sort of. Only your memory of magic,
though!" he added at her horrified look. "You'd just forget about magic. It'd be like you never
came to Grimmauld Place. That's all."

"That's all," repeated Dorcas sarcastically. "Just a little mind erasing, no big deal…"

"It's not going to happen," said Sirius forcefully, taking her hand. "I won't let it."

Dorcas gave him the look he knew so well — half-amused, half-exasperated. "Why'd you
even invite me over, Sirius?"

"To snog you senseless," he said immediately. "Why else?"

She laughed. "Of course. You just figured you'd bring me to your magic house and I'd be fine
with it. And then we'd shove our tongues down each other’s throats."

"Yeah, that was the plan, more or less."

Dorcas rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Okay. You win."

"Really?"

"Really," she said. "I might as well get something fun out of this."

"That's the spirit," said Sirius. He hooked his hand around the back of her neck and drew her
closer. She closed her eyes obediently, and her lashes tickled his cheek. Her lips brushed his,
full and soft, and then he was kissing her the way he'd been dreaming of all summer.

"You're certain Robert won't mind?" he murmured against her mouth.

She pulled away from him slightly. "Who's Robert?"

"Erm," he said. "Your boyfriend?"

Her laugh vibrated through his chest. "Robert doesn't exist. I made him up so you wouldn't
get any ideas."

"I see." Sirius fiddled with the edge of her shirt. "How's that working out for you?"

"Shut up, weirdo."

They moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to lying in the bed itself. They were in the
process of getting tangled in the many layers of silk sheets when the door opened. Regulus
was standing in the doorway, a thick yellow envelope in one hand and a silver prefect badge
in the other.

"I knocked," said Regulus defensively as Sirius and Dorcas flew apart. "I — erm — my
booklist came, and…" He trailed off, eyes on Dorcas.

"Reg," said Sirius warningly as Dorcas pulled the sheets up around her chest. "Reg, I can
explain. Don't —"

"I've seen you with her before," said Regulus shakily. "She's — she's a Muggle, isn't she?
And you brought her here? To our house?"

"Reg, this is kind of a private moment, if you haven't noticed, so if we could talk about this
later —"

"I covered for you," said Regulus, speaking over him. "I never told our parents you were
seeing a Muggle girl."

"Good." Sirius tumbled out of bed and snatched his trousers off the floor. "Because it's none
of your business who I go round with —"

"But you brought her here!" said Regulus, voice rising. "Here! Do you have a death wish or
something, Sirius? A Muggle! Into Grimmauld Place!"

"I brought a HUMAN BEING into Grimmauld Place!" shouted Sirius. "Godric's mane, Reg,
you're starting to sound like Mum —"

Regulus folded his arms across his chest. "You don't get it, do you? Father put anti-Muggle
enchantments all over the house —"

"— Which I lifted to get her in, because I'm not an idiot —"

"Yes, you are!" said Regulus. "You didn't think to check your own room for charms, did
you?"

Sirius froze, his trousers partway buttoned. Regulus continued. "Mum put a Muggle
Detection Charm on your door because you're not half as clever as you think you are!
Sneaking out all the time, plastering your walls with pictures from Muggle magazines,
leaving those little papers from the cinema lying around everywhere — I could only cover for
you so much, there were some things I couldn't hide, and now —"

A loud crack sounded in the hall downstairs, and Sirius went pale.

"Dorcas, you have to go," he said, plucking her shirt off the floor and tossing it to her. "Now."

Dorcas's eyes were wide with fright as she pulled her shirt on. "Sirius," she said, getting out
of bed, "what you said before — about the people who will erase my memory —"

"It's not going to happen," he said firmly. He grabbed her by the hand and addressed Regulus.
"We've got to get her out of here before they see her. Father's study is connected to the Floo
network —"

"There's not enough time for that.” Regulus’ head turned as he listened to the noises coming
from downstairs. "They're already on the second floor. They'll see us the instant we leave
your room —"

"A Portkey, then." Sirius raked his free hand roughly through his hair.

Regulus shook his head. "You know that won't work — not unless you thought to undo the
Anti-Portus Hex on the house while you were fiddling with the protective enchantments."

Sirius swore loudly. The footsteps on the stairs were growing louder and more insistent. It
was hard to believe his mother and father alone could make that much noise between the two
of them. Had they brought one of their less savoury friends back with them from the
conference?

Regulus snapped his fingers in front of Sirius' face. "Think, Sirius! We don't have time for
you to get distracted. You have to find a way to get her out of here, just think —"

Sirius let out a sudden laugh. "I've got it," he said. "KREACHER!"

The house-elf appeared in the bedroom with a crack, looking utterly horrified.

"A Muggle!" croaked Kreacher, wringing his bony fingers. "Young master has defiled the
House of Black beyond Kreacher's worst nightmares, he has brought vermin into this most
ancient bastion of blood, Kreacher weeps —"

"Shut UP!" shouted Sirius, and Kreacher fell silent, alternating between glaring at Sirius and
casting looks of pure revulsion at Dorcas. Dorcas, for her part, was staring at Kreacher with a
similar expression.

"Right," said Sirius. "Introductions. Dorcas, this is Kreacher. He's a house-elf. He's also
completely swallowed my parents' pure-blood garbage, as you can tell, but he can't disobey a
direct order. Kreacher, this is Dorcas. You are not to speak to her."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Dorcas weakly. Her nose wrinkled as if she had just smelled
something very bad.
Kreacher closed his eyes, apparently in pain from being spoken to by a Muggle, and began to
wail.

"Kreacher," said Sirius, raising his voice, "you are to take Dorcas home. Make sure she gets
there safely and without drawing the attention of any Ministry employees. You are not to tell
anyone, including our parents, anything about Dorcas, including where she lives. You are to
return to me when I am alone, and I will modify your memory so that you forget she even
exists."

Kreacher's wails rose to full-blown hysterical sobbing. Sirius stared at the house-elf with
disgust, then turned to Dorcas. "I shouldn't have brought you here," he said. "I'm so sor —"

The door of the bedroom flew open, and all of the room's inhabitants hurtled forward.
Kreacher dived forward and grabbed Dorcas's arm. She shrieked, but the sound cut off
abruptly as they vanished with a crack.

"WHERE IS SHE!" roared Orion, Sirius' father. He pointed his wand back and forth between
Sirius and Regulus.

"She's here.” Sirius’ mother, Walburga Black, stepped into the room, followed by a hulking
figure wearing a hooded cloak and a silver mask. "I felt the charm burn, I know he brought
her in here —" She froze at the sight of Sirius' unmade bed.

Orion followed her gaze. His haughty features contorted with fury. "You," he growled, turning
on Sirius. "You dare bring Muggle filth into MY HOUSE? You dare let her enter under MY
ROOF?"

"Oh, spare me," spat Sirius. "Don't pretend like you're surprised, not if you stuck a bloody
Muggle Detection Charm on my door —"

"You shall not speak to your father that way!" shrieked Walburga. Her hand trembled as she
pointed her wand at Sirius. "No son of mine —"

"I AM NOT YOUR SON!" yelled Sirius.

Walburga was startled into silence. Sirius pointed his wand back and forth between his
parents. "I've had it with this pathetic excuse for a family. I'm leaving."

Walburga halted, her grey eyes wide. "You— you can't leave."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to do, curse me? Go ahead and try."

Orion lunged for Sirius, who ducked out of the way. The hooded figure in the doorway raised
his wand, and a jet of red light streaked past Sirius, burning him as it grazed his shoulder.
Walburga screamed and aimed her wand at Sirius, her hand shaking wildly.

Sirius hunched over, and his form distorted until he was replaced by an enormous black dog.

Padfoot snarled, then bolted for the door, knocking Regulus onto the bed. At the door, the
hooded figure raised his wand again, but the dog leapt and closed its massive jaws around his
neck. The hooded man made a gurgling sound and toppled backwards. The dog scrambled
over his body, racing down the stairs.

A streak of light grazed Padfoot's back and hit the decapitated head of Pimsley the house-elf,
which toppled off the wall. The dog didn't slow.

Padfoot barrelled into the drawing room and threw itself into the window, which shattered
upon impact. The dog yelped in pain and tumbled into the garden, shards of glass slicing
through its fur.

Sides heaving, Padfoot bolted across the garden and vaulted the cast iron fence. The dog
landed heavily; drops of blood spattered the pavement under its paws as it raced to the park
across the street.

Halfway across the park, the dog's frame elongated into the form of a lanky teenager in a flat-
out sprint for his life. Sirius skidded to a halt, panting, at the far end of the park. There,
propped up against the kerb, was Dorcas's motorbike.

He hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he clambered atop the bike and tried to switch on
the ignition. He jangled the throttle and pushed on the pedals. Nothing happened.

Sirius swore loudly. He needed a key, didn't he?

There was a series of popping noises behind him, followed by shouting. Flashes of wandlight
illuminated the park.

"Work, damn you," growled Sirius. He kicked the motorbike, which remained stubbornly
silent. The yells were getting louder. "Come on, come on!"

A jet of red light narrowly missed his head. Desperate, Sirius drew his wand and brought it
down on the handlebars of the motorbike. A shower of golden sparks emitted from his wand,
and the bike roared to life.

Sirius jerked forward as it trundled down the street. "Oh, good — right, that seems about the
speed limit, there…"

But the motorbike continued to pick up speed until it was zooming down the street of its own
volition. Sirius gripped the handlebars tightly as the bike blew through traffic signals,
ignoring them entirely. Faster, impossibly fast, no Muggle vehicle could accelerate like this
—

Sirius' skin pulled back from his face, his surroundings a mere blur. He shouted as the bike
took a sharp turn, going the wrong way down a busy road. The bike wove through oncoming
traffic, speeding head-on towards dozens of blinding headlights. They were going to crash —

With a deafening roar, motorbike reared, and then Sirius was soaring over the cars. He rose
higher and higher, as if riding a broomstick. The bike sailed over rooftops and above tall,
narrow buildings.
Sirius let out a whoop and pulled on the handlebars. He urged the motorbike upward until
Grimmauld Place vanished among the winking lights of the city far below.

He was free.
 Potter and Padfoot

The first owl arrived over breakfast.

Lily Evans was stirring sugar into her cup of tea while her older sister, Petunia, nibbled on a
bit of buttered toast. There was a soft hooting sound, and the owl swooped in through the
open window, an envelope clutched in its talons. It landed with a clatter, nearly knocking
over the vase of dahlias in the middle of the table.

Lily had barely steadied the vase before two more owls soared in. One joined the first atop
the table, and the other perched on the back of Petunia's chair.

Petunia stiffened. Her expression soured.

"Tuney —" said Lily, but it was too late.

"Birds," spat Petunia, much the same way one would say 'cockroaches'. "Birds in the jam."
She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.

"Did I hear somebody say 'birds'?" Lily's mother poked her head into the kitchen. A paisley
handkerchief pulled her wiry copper hair away from her face, and her eyes sparkled with a
warmth that belied her age. "Oh, but that is more than usual! What's the occasion, Lily?"

One of the owls let out an offended hoot as Lily pulled the plate of toast out from under its
talons. "Erm, O.W.L. results, I think," she said. "Wizarding O-levels."

"You people have O-levels?" asked Petunia, wrinkling her nose.

"Tuney, don't say 'you people,’” reprimanded her mother. "It isn't polite." She took a seat
beside Lily and stroked the nearest owl with a finger.

Petunia crossed her arms. "You always take her side. There are bird droppings on the table
and you're angry at me."

"Well," said Lily, "if you weren't so rude about everything —" Her mother shot her a sharp
glance and she broke off, scowling.

"I didn't want breakfast anyway," muttered Petunia. She turned on her heel and stomped up
the stairs.

Lily's mum watched Petunia leave, still stroking the owl absentmindedly. "I'll bring her more
toast later."

"I'd just as soon let her starve."

"Lily," said her mother sternly. "Be good. It's hard for her to be your sister."

"Yeah, and it's hard for me to be her sister."

"Try to be kind to her," said her mum.

Lily rolled her eyes.

"I saw that,” said her mum. “Be patient with Petunia. Your sister will come around."

"Why should I? She's horrible."

"All the more reason to be patient," said her mother. "Does Petunia seem like a happy person
to you?"

"I dunno," said Lily sullenly.

Her mum tickled the owl's belly, and it flapped its wings delightedly. "Petunia compares
herself to you and feels inferior."

"I don't see why. We're completely different, she shouldn't —"

"But she does. And can you blame her? You have always had many talents, even as a child,
and you're a witch to boot. You are gifted in ways she will never be. It makes her feel
ordinary."

"That's not fair, though," said Lily. "I didn't ask to be magical. It just happened."

"Petunia didn't ask to be who she is, either," said her mother.

"Well, she could afford to be a little nicer about it," said Lily.

Her mother smiled, and the soft lines around her eyes deepened. "Tuney might not show it,
but she loves you. You two will grow out of this quarrelsome phase."

Lily snorted. "I highly doubt —"

"Shall we open your letters?" said her mother, changing the subject. She stopped tickling the
owl and removed a thick, cream-coloured envelope from its beak, which she offered to Lily.

Lily bit back a retort. She was quite certain Petunia would always hate her, if the previous
sixteen years were anything to go by. But she'd had this argument with her mum before, and
they never got anywhere.

"Yeah, alright," said Lily at last. She took the envelope and slit it open. Inside was a heavy
piece of parchment.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

Pass Grades

Outstanding (O)
 Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

Lily Evans has achieved:

Ancient Runes - O

Arithmancy - O

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defence Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - A

Potions - E

Transfiguration - E

"Ancient Runes, outstanding," read Lily's mother over her shoulder. "Arithmancy,
outstanding. Astronomy… Charms… Lily, this is fantastic. You've really worked hard,
haven't you?"

Lily smiled as her mother embraced her. "Yeah, I have."

"You got an Exceeds Expectations in Potions, though," said her mother, frowning. "That's
like getting a 'B', isn't it? I thought Potions was your favourite subject?"

"Oh," said Lily. Her cheeks grew hot. "Yeah, it is. It's just — d'you remember how Sev and I
had a falling out? It's sort of… related to that."

"I never liked that boy," said her mother, and Lily laughed, because that was blatantly untrue.
Her mum had always been fond of Severus. But when Lily had told her that they were no
longer mates, her mum had done a complete and total about-face on her opinion of anyone
with the last name 'Snape'.
"Well," continued her mum, "an E is still nothing to sneeze at! We ought to celebrate, get you
something nice. What would you like?"

"Ice cream," said Lily at once. It was only half past ten, but the kitchen was already warm.

Her mum laughed. "I can get you something better than ice cream! What about a new wand?
Do witches outgrow their wands?"

"Witches need ice cream," said Lily firmly. "Especially if it's going to be as hot as yesterday.
I think I'm sweating already…" She reached for the jam jar, where one of the owls had
deposited its envelope, and pulled the letter out by its corner.

"More post from Hogwarts?" asked her mum.

Lily wiped the jam off the envelope and squinted at the return address, which was now
slightly blurred. "This one's from my friend Marlene, I think."

Inside the envelope was a bit of parchment, accompanied by a clipping from the Daily
Prophet.

Lily,

Tell me it's not as hot in Yorkshire as it is in Scotland — never thought I'd look forward to a
Hogwarts winter, but there you are.

Don't know if you've been following wizarding politics, but I thought you'd find this article
from the Prophet interesting. Something to keep an eye on, at least.

Write soon, stay safe, and buy me a few Muggle records while you're in Cokeworth, will you?
Whatever's popular, I'm not picky. Will pay you back on the train.

— Marlene

PS. Have you got your O.W.L. results yet? Mine came last week. Did very well —
McGonagall's even set me up with an Auror apprenticeship!

Lily set the letter down, smiling. She and Marlene fundamentally disagreed about what could
be considered interesting — an article about wizarding politics sounded about as dull as one
of Professor Binns' lessons. All the same, she examined the clipping from the Daily Prophet,
which had a purple stain in the corner from the jam.

Caradoc Dearborn Proposes Latest Muggle-Centric Decree

Caradoc Dearborn, controversial Head of the Department of International Magical

Cooperation, has brought forward a new bill to the House of Mages. This proposed
 'Muggle-born Protection Act' would provide additional layers of security for non-
magical members of the wizarding community.

"It is my hope that the Muggle-born Protection Act will bring a halt to the targeted
attacks and disappearances that have plagued wizarding Britain of late," Dearborn told
the Daily Prophet. "Half-bloods, Squibs, Muggle-borns, and their families must be
protected at all costs, with the full force of the Ministry."

Dearborn became a household name in the '60s, after his Muggle wife suffered a
gruesome death — allegedly at the hands of the Knights of Walpurgis, though no
charges were ever brought to the Wizengamot. Since then, his single-minded focus on
Muggle rights has seen mixed success over the years, and many of his detractors hold
that the well-being of Muggles falls outside the scope of the Ministry of Magic.

His previous proposal, the overly-ambitious Squib Rights Act, suffered a crushing defeat
in the House of Mages. When asked if this new decree might undergo a similar fate,
Dearborn declined to comment.

Lily examined the picture that accompanied the article. A massive, broad-shouldered man
scowled as he climbed the steps to the Ministry of Magic, swatting reporters away with a
hand. Instead of the usual Ministry robes, he wore a crisply-tailored suit.

"Is that man a wizard?" asked her mum. "Odd that he's wearing a suit, isn't it?"

"The article makes him sound a bit eccentric," said Lily. She slid the clipping back into its
envelope before her mother could read it. She'd never told her mum how bad the situation in
wizarding Britain was becoming, and she wasn't about to start now.

The last owl, still perched on Petunia's vacant chair, gave a soft hoot and extended its leg,
where a roll of parchment was tied.

"Another letter from a friend?" asked her mum as Lily undid the string holding the parchment
to the owl's leg.

"This one's from Hogwarts, I think," said Lily. The scroll was sealed with red wax bearing the
Hogwarts crest. Her mum peered over her shoulder as Lily unfurled the parchment.
Hopefully this letter was less controversial than the last.

Miss Evans,

Professor McGonagall has informed me of the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels, as
well as your interest in becoming a Healer. If you are still interested in pursuing Healing as a
career, I would like to extend to you the offer of an apprenticeship for this upcoming school
year. You can expect to learn the basics of Healing, including the treatment of minor injuries
and the dosing and application of simple Healing potions.
If you find this arrangement agreeable, please send a reply via owl at your earliest
convenience.

Yours sincerely,

Poppy Pomfrey, R.M.W., B.C.H. (Registered Mediwitch, Board Certified Healer)

"Healing — is that like nursing?" asked her mum.

"Sort of," said Lily. "It's a bit like being a doctor, too. There aren't really nurses or doctors in
the wizarding world, though. They have a different hierarchy."

"My daughter, a Healer," said her mother, pulling Lily into a hug. "I am so proud of you,
Lily!"

Lily buried her face in her mum's tangle of hair. Her mother always smelled sweet, like
honeysuckle. For a moment, Lily felt as if she were five years old again, utterly safe and full
of love. Her throat tightened. "I wish dad was here."

Her mother drew her arms tighter around Lily. "He'd be telling everyone we know that his
daughter got 9 O.W.L.s."

Tears pricked Lily's eyes, and she smiled into her mum's shoulder. "He'd be breaking the
Statute of Secrecy left and right, then."

"And he wouldn't care one bit." Lily's mum pulled back, the corners of her eyes red. She
reached out and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind Lily's ear. "It's a quarter to eleven.
Shall we go to the ice cream parlour?"

Lily grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

James Potter was practising Quidditch manoeuvres on his Comet 260 in the back garden of
his parents' summer home when the handle of his broomstick began to vibrate.

James swung himself upright and paused, listening. A low growl rumbled through the air. It
sounded like the engines of the aeroplanes Muggles flew, but the sky was clear, save for the
occasional fluffy cloud.

The rumble grew louder and louder until it was thunderous, resonating through James' chest.
He squinted; a dark blur was streaking over the trees at the edge of his parents' property,
barrelling towards him.
James pulled down on the handle of his broomstick and dove forward just as the shape roared
over his head, black exhaust billowing behind it. The contraption — some sort of large, metal
broomstick? — landed in the grass with a thump and skidded to a halt. Its rider bent to kiss
its handlebars and dismounted, raising a hand to James in greeting.

James touched down on the grass, his mouth open. "Sirius?"

"The one and only," said Sirius. He pushed back his hair, which was badly tangled. "How're
things, Prongs?"

"Er — fine," said James. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, right," said Sirius. "I sort of burnt all my bridges at Grimmauld Place. Long story. Been
living as Padfoot for”— he cocked his head, calculating— “a week or so? Hard to tell when
you're a dog. Anyway. Been getting hungry, and your mum makes those incredible
dumplings, so…"

"Ah," said James. Upon closer inspection, Sirius looked thinner than usual, and there
appeared to be a mixture of dirt and dried blood smeared across his face. "Er, you sure you're
alright, mate?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm great," Sirius' gaze roved somewhat maniacally over the lawn. "Just need
a place to store Elvendork, here…"

"Elvendork?"

Sirius grinned wolfishly, looking suddenly more like himself. "The bike. Also known as the
love of my life."

"Some name, Elvendork."

"It's unisex," said Sirius with a wink.

James laughed and clapped Sirius on the back. "I'm sure we've got plenty of room for
Elvendork. How about some dumplings, eh?"

They burst into the kitchen, where an impressive array of food was already displayed on the
table. There were dumplings — multiple kinds, in fact — along with banana crisps, rice, and
several vegetable dishes. Euphemia Potter, James' mum, was at the sink, washing up.

"Look who came to visit, Mum!" said James as he slid into a chair at the table.

James' mum smiled and set her dishrag atop the counter. If she was surprised to see Sirius,
she didn't show it. "Sirius Orion Black. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Pleasure's all mine," replied Sirius, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you
for the dumplings."

"Lottie told me you were coming," said James' mum, referring to the family house-elf. "She
sensed you flying over Essex and mentioned you might be hungry."
"That's an understatement," said Sirius. He took a seat at the table and helped himself to an
entire plate of sweet dumplings. "Thanks, Mrs Potter. Seriously."

The lines around Euphemia Potter's mouth turned downward as she watched him wolf down
the dumplings. "Sirius," she said gently. "What happened?"

Sirius stopped chewing just long enough to make eye contact with her. "Nuffing," he said
around a mouthful of food. "'M fine—"

He broke off as a handsome barn owl soared into the kitchen and landed gracefully on the
perch beside the table. Tied to its leg was a thick envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest.

James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes wide. "Is that —"

"Ickle Potter's O.W.L. results?" finished Sirius. "Oh, this'll be good." He set down his fork
and swiped the letter from the owl's leg.

James flung himself across the table, knocking over the bowl of banana crisps in an effort to
wrestle the envelope out of Sirius' hands, but it was no use. Sirius tipped his chair back on its
legs, out of James' reach, and opened the envelope.

"Ordinary Wizarding Level Results," Sirius read aloud. "Are you ready for this, Mrs Potter?
'James Potter has achieved'… Hmm…" He scanned the parchment for a minute before
tossing it in James' direction. "All O's except an E in Muggle Studies and a P in History of
Magic. Not bad, Prongs! Reckon I'll have you beat, though. Think they know I'm staying
here?" Sirius peered out the window hopefully, craning his neck.

"I can't believe I got an E in Muggle Studies," said James. He glanced at the parchment and
handed it to his mum. "I actually tried on that one."

"Yeah, well," said Sirius, "you've proven more than once you can't tell a phone box from a
lift, so..."

"I'm more immersed in Muggle culture than you, at least, Scion of the House of Black,"
retorted James. Sirius winced, and James immediately regretted the joke. "Erm — I mean —"

"Nah, it's a fair point," said Sirius, returning to his food. "I had a very enlightening summer,
though." He glanced at James' mum, who was headed to the drawing room with James'
O.W.L. results, Lottie the house-elf trailing her heels. Sirius lowered his voice and continued.
"My parents caught me, er, studying a Muggle. If you know what I mean."

James stared at Sirius. "You didn't."

"I certainly did."

"Was the Muggle an Elvendork or a Wilberforce?"

"Neither," said Sirius. "She was more of a Bathsheba, actually. That's her bike, out there." He
jerked his head towards the garden, where the motorbike was leaning on its kickstand.
"I didn't know Muggles had personal flying machines," said James.

"Yeah, they don't," said Sirius. "That's kind of a… new feature for Elvendork. It didn't do that
when Dorcas rode it."

"Dorcas," repeated James. Sirius gave a quick nod, his eyes on his plate. "You said your
parents caught you with her. Did she get out alright?"

"Dunno," said Sirius. "I told Kreacher to get her to safety, but her bike was still in the street
when I left Grimmauld Place. I spent a while in London as Padfoot, trying to find her, but I
couldn't even figure out where she lives." His eyes darkened. "I keep thinking — if Kreacher
found a loophole… if he took her somewhere she shouldn't be…"

"I'm sure she's fine," said James. He tried to sound convincing, but the words rang hollow.

"Yeah," said Sirius dully. "Probably."

The Potter's summer home only had three bedrooms — one for Fleamont and Euphemia, one
for James, and one for Lottie — so Sirius assumed he'd be staying with James. That evening,
however, Fleamont Potter Apparated onto the doorstep, embraced Sirius (who froze as if he'd
been Petrified, despite himself) and summarily Transfigured the closet next to James' room
into a fourth bedroom. The next day, Sirius woke to find several fine sets of robes hanging
neatly in the wardrobe, and Lottie admitted she'd gone shopping. Euphemia cooked him a full
English breakfast, and afterwards he and James went outside to practise Quidditch.

And so Sirius settled into a new routine with a new family. James' parents were generous and
kind, which was wonderful and only occasionally suffocating. They didn't seem to mind his
moods. On the days he didn't leave his room, Lottie would place a plate of sweet dumplings
outside his door, and when he eventually emerged the Potters would act as if he had never
shut himself away at all.

Strangely, Sirius' O.W.L. results didn't arrive during his first week with the Potters, or the
week after that. Before he knew it, he and James were taking a Portkey to King's Cross for
the start of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and he still had no idea if he had achieved any
passing marks on his O.W.L.s.

"Maybe Minnie wants to go over the results with you in person," said James, leaning casually
against the barrier that separated Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from the rest of King's
Cross.

Sirius snorted and pushed his trunk through the barrier, not bothering to be subtle about it.
"Doubt it. Bet you five Cauldron Cakes they sent my letter to Grimmauld Place. I almost
wish I still lived there, if only for the look on my dear mum's face when she sees I got an O in
Muggle Studies…"
"There's no way you got an O in Muggle Studies." James balanced his broomstick
precariously atop his trunk as they pushed through the crowd. "I didn't even get an O, and I
actually revised for that one."

"Bet you ten Cauldron Cakes I did."

"Done.” James craned his neck as he looked around the crowded platform. "I don't see
Moony or Pete anywhere. Reckon they're already on the train?"

Sirius shrugged and followed James onto the Hogwarts Express. After a few minutes of
searching, they found Remus and Peter in the last compartment of the train.

"Alright, lads?" asked James, pulling open the door of the compartment. "Pete, you look
bronzed! What happened? I thought you hated being outside!"

A flush bloomed across Peter's tanned skin. "My mum and I spent the summer in Spain. You
would not believe how hot it gets there."

"If it was anything like England, I can imagine," said James. He slid into the seat beside
Remus, who was paging through a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Anything good in there,
Moony?"

"Yeah, actually," said Remus, holding the paper out to him. "You know Sally Dearborn, in the
year above us? Her father made the front page, look…"

Sirius leaned forward to better view the article. Caradoc Dearborn's Decree Gains Support in
the House of Mages, the headline read.

"Caradoc?" said Sirius. "Isn't he that madman whose Muggle wife was murdered? It was
horrible, too, wasn't it, I remember my parents saying the Aurors found her nearly —"

"He's not a madman," said James. His eyes flicked back and forth across the paper as he
skimmed the article. "Bit paranoid, maybe, but not mad. My dad works with him sometimes
and says he's alright."

"They say he went funny after his wife died, though," said Peter. "Seeing Death Eaters
everywhere. Didn't he send Sally away to some monastery in Asia for defence training until
she was ten?"

"That's not true at all," said Remus. "I was a prefect with her last year, and she's more normal
than you'd think. A bit intense, but who wouldn't be? After her mum..."

"I still think her dad's a nutter," said Sirius.

James shrugged. "I think you'd like Dearborn, Pads, he's all about Muggle rights." He folded
the paper and handed it back to Remus. "This Muggle-born Act of his sounds like a good
thing, doesn't it?”

"I'm not so sure," said Remus. His skin looked more sallow than Sirius remembered. Was the
full moon close, or had he always been so pale, and Sirius had forgotten? "I think a program
like that is an obvious target for What's-His-Name and his followers. If they manage to
infiltrate it, they'll have easy access to the names and locations of hundreds of Muggles with
connections to wizarding Britain."

"You're so gloomy, Moony," said James. "I'm certain Dearborn's thought of that. There's
probably loads of precautions to prevent that from happening."

"Let's hope," said Remus darkly, tucking his copy of the Prophet into his trunk. "So what's
new with you lot? Is the Potter country home still standing after this summer?"

"The house is in one piece," said James. "Not for lack of trying on our part, though, mind
you."

"Our part?" repeated Peter. "You stayed with the Potters, then, Sirius? And we weren't
invited?"

"You got it, Pete," said Sirius with a yawn. "We decided you two are a couple of boring
tossers and we have more fun without you." He jostled Peter, who looked horrified. "Don't be
an idiot, of course it wasn't like that. I just needed somewhere to stay after I got kicked out of
the house, and the Potters took me in. That's all."

Remus frowned. "They kicked you out of Grimmauld Place?"

"Well," said Sirius, "it might be more accurate to say that it was a mutual parting of ways.
They caught me, er, in a compromising position with a Muggle. If you know what I mean."

"Merlin's tits," said Peter. "I can't imagine that went over well."

Sirius lifted a shoulder, trying to seem nonchalant. "Whatever you're thinking's probably
accurate."

"Are you alright, then, Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, fine," said Sirius, glancing out the window. "It was a long time coming. I only wish I'd
done it sooner, honestly."

Peter laughed, but Remus continued to watch Sirius, his brow wrinkled.

Sirius stretched one leg across the aisle to tap Remus on the foot. "Moony, if you don't stop
worrying, your face will get stuck like that, and then you'll have an ugly problem to go along
with your furry one. I'm fine. Honestly." He bounded out of his seat and began to rummage in
his pockets. "Anyway. Who wants something from the trolley? My treat."

He stepped into the corridor of the train after taking James and Peter's orders; Remus had
insisted he was too nauseous for sweets. He closed the compartment door with rather more
force than he'd intended and began to stride along the corridor, whistling.

There was a long queue for the trolley, and Sirius took his place at the end with a sigh. He
hated waiting. It made him fidget.
The queue moved slowly, and out of boredom he peered into the surrounding compartments.
The one on his left was packed so tightly with Hufflepuff second years that it resembled a tin
of sardines, and the compartment on the right appeared to be for the fifth year prefects.
Simon Ashworth, the Keeper on Gryffindor’s Quidditch team, was inside, chatting with —

Sirius whirled around abruptly, hoping the prefects hadn't seen. Regulus.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Regulus was looking straight at him, his expression
unreadable.

They stared at each other a moment. Then Sirius turned on his heel and pushed roughly past
the other students in the queue as he stalked down the corridor.

There was a squelching sound behind him as the compartment door slid open, but Sirius
didn't slow. He was nearly back to his compartment when a hand closed around his upper
arm.

"We need to talk," said Regulus.

Sirius barked a laugh. "I have nothing to say to you."

"I'm sure you don't," said Regulus. His voice was smooth, but his hand trembled slightly as
he let go of Sirius. "Regardless, I would like to speak to you."

Sirius made a show of checking his Muggle watch, angling it towards Regulus. "You have
two minutes."

A flicker of annoyance passed over Regulus' face, but he dragged Sirius into an empty
compartment. "Mother and Father saw you transform."

"Golly, I hadn't realised," said Sirius sarcastically. "Is that it? You're worried they'll report me
for being an unregistered Animagus? Because if they do —"

"They're not going to report you," said Regulus.

Sirius blinked. "Oh. Well, good on them, I guess."

Regulus took a breath before responding. "They're not going to report you because their
memories were modified."

Sirius stared at his brother. "Their… what? You — Merlin's mutilated —"

Regulus cut him off. "It wasn't intentional."

"Ah," said Sirius. "And here I thought you'd grown a pair of Bludgers for once. So what
happened?"

"As soon as you left, they started to shout about reporting you to the Ministry. They were
furious. I — I didn't know what to do. So I, er, Floo called Uncle Alphard —"
Sirius whistled. "You didn't."

"It wasn't on purpose!" said Regulus. He suddenly looked five years younger than he was.
"He was the only person I could think of who could help — he's got ties to the Ministry, and
unlike most of our relatives, he's not completely psychotic —"

"Yeah," said Sirius, "but don't pretend like you didn't consider that Obliviation would be the
most likely outcome after getting him involved. I mean…"

"Well, I wasn't certain that's what he'd do! He could have —"

"He's a bloody Obliviator, Reg! His entire job is to make people forget things, don't act as if
you didn't —"

"I told you, I wasn't thinking!" said Regulus, beginning to sound panicked. "I didn't know… I
just…"

Sirius crossed his arms and leaned against the luggage rack. "So how much did they forget?"

"Most — most of what happened," said Regulus. "Everything about you being an Animagus.
And everything about the Muggle girl."

"And Kreacher?"

Regulus looked away, his expression pained. "Uncle Alphard Obliviated him, too."

"Good," said Sirius. "One less thing for me to worry about."

Regulus' lips pressed into a line, as if he wanted to retort but thought better of it. "It had to be
done. They weren't going to stop at just reporting you. They were angling for Azkaban."

Sirius swore. "Those bloody psychopaths."

"They could have done it, too," said Regulus. "You did use your Animagus form to maul a
high-ranking Ministry official."

"Oh, yeah," said Sirius. "The bloke with the creepy mask. Well, I hadn't exactly planned to do
that. It just happened. Animal instinct, you know. Whatever happened to him?"

"Uncle Alphard modified his memory as well before taking him to St. Mungo's. Animagus
wounds are magical, you know, so he told them it was a Chimaera bite. They couldn't tell the
difference."

"Good lord, Reg," said Sirius. "You really did me a favour."

Regulus almost looked like he wanted to smile. "Don't get used to it."

Sirius grabbed onto the luggage rack as the train took a sharp turn. “I dunno, Reg. The Potters
have plenty of spare rooms at their house. They always wanted a big family, you know."
"Sirius.” Exasperation crept into Regulus’ voice. “I can't. Now that you're gone, it's on me to
be the heir —"

"That's not true and you know it," said Sirius. "It's been on you since I was sorted into
Gryffindor."

Regulus swayed a bit as the train straightened its course. "That's why you can't expect me to
do something like this again for you."

"I still don't understand why you can't just give them the two-fingered salute —"

"I wouldn't expect you to," snapped Regulus. "Anyway. I just wanted you to know that you're
not going to be arrested and fed to the dementors. For now."

"And I appreciate that," said Sirius as Regulus made to leave the compartment. "I'll be sure to
send Uncle Alphard a thank-you card."

Regulus paused at the door. "You're your own worst enemy, Sirius. You know that, right?"

"Our parents have drilled that into me since I was eleven," said Sirius casually. "Thanks for
the reminder, though."

Regulus closed the compartment door gently behind him.

Sirius waited a minute before exiting the compartment as well. He slammed the door so hard
that the glass shattered, littering the floor with jagged shards.

All that trouble, and he still didn't have any sweets from the trolley.
 Lesson Bloody Learned

Severus sat alone in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It was the first time he'd spent
the journey entirely by himself; in years past, he'd sat with Lily, or with Avery and Mulciber,
more recently. In theory, he and Avery were sharing this compartment, but as soon as the
train pulled out of the station, Avery had gone to patrol the corridor as a prefect.

That had been hours ago, and Avery still hadn't returned. He was probably being extremely
thorough in his prefect duties, the prat.

In any case, Severus had gotten used to being alone. At the start of the summer, he'd thought
that Lily might come by his house, the way she'd used to. He'd even gotten into the habit of
leaving the blinds up, on the off chance she was passing by and could see him through the
window.

He cringed at the memory now. Lily hadn't visited, not even once. She hadn't even walked
down the street. He'd given up hope that she wanted to see him.

The rest of his summer had consisted of two things: avoiding his parents and watching the
skies for an owl from Bella.

He had been certain Bella would be in contact. He'd been her protege, and she'd been fond of
him. Even setting such tawdry things as affection aside, they were Secondaries now, weren't
they? Didn't the Dark Lord have tasks for them, his chosen few Followers?

At the very least, Severus thought Bella would owl him about being the mentor for the next
batch of Intents at Hogwarts. He was the obvious choice for mentor, after all. He was the
cleverest, the most capable. And Lucius Malfoy had been extremely impressed by his
spellwork. That had to count for something, didn't it?

It appeared Severus had been wrong about that, too. The only owl that came was from the
Ministry, not Bella, and had carried his O.W.L. results. High marks in all subjects, obviously.
Not that his parents had cared.

So now Severus was alone, as usual, on the Hogwarts Express, wondering if Bella's owl had
simply gotten lost. Cokeworth was very Muggle, after all. The owl might have gotten
confused.

As the train was pulling into Hogsmeade station, the compartment door slid open. "There you
are," said Avery. "Apologies for not returning sooner, a few of the first years needed — well,
you know how it is, being a prefect. Loads of responsibilities."

Severus gritted his teeth. He did not know how being a prefect was. Professor Slughorn
hadn't considered him for that particular duty. "I can only imagine."

"Thought you'd have joined Augustus and the others, though," said Avery. "They're playing
Exploding Snap near the front of the train."
Severus hated Exploding Snap. And Augustus Mulciber. "I wasn't in the mood."

"Just as well, then," said Avery, pulling down his trunk. "Augustus told me Bella's made him
mentor, have you heard?"

Severus' lip curled. He should have expected this. Mulciber had the brains of a gnome, but he
came from a long line of pure-bloods, and his father was a Death Eater. Of course he'd be
chosen for mentor.

The unfairness of it all made Severus' blood boil. His own father was a Muggle of the worst
kind, and Bella knew it. Severus could have been as gifted as Grindelwald, but she still
would have passed him over. His blood status made him a liability.

"Are you alright?" asked Avery. "Anyway, looks like we've arrived. Got everything you need,
then?"

During the Welcome Feast, Severus and Avery joined Mulciber, Wilkes and Rosier at the far
end of the Slytherin table. Severus would have taken a candlelit dinner with James Potter
over watching Mulciber gloat, but it couldn't be helped.

At the table, Mulciber didn't mention being made mentor — not even he was stupid enough
to talk about being a Follower in public — but he looked far too pleased with himself. At one
point, he gave Severus a knowing wink. It was only with great effort that Severus refrained
from hurling a plate of pork chops into his smug face.

After the feast, Severus lingered at the table as the rest of the Slytherins joined the crowd of
students filing out of the Great Hall. He needed to speak to Lily before classes started. Not to
beg forgiveness, which he suspected she wouldn't give him anyway. No, his reasons were
purely practical. He simply needed to know if they could continue partnering together for
Potions this year. They were top of their class in Potions, after all, and N.E.W.T. material was
notoriously demanding. A continued partnership only made sense.

Severus pretended to pick at his custard tart as he watched the Gryffindor table out of the
corner of his eye. Lily was chatting animatedly with her friends. She seemed completely
oblivious to the fact that half the school had left the Great Hall. After five agonising minutes
— why was Lily laughing so loudly, Mary Macdonald wasn't even funny — the girls stood up
and made for the doors of the Great Hall. Severus took a deep breath and followed them.

Lily noticed him before he had even reached her. Her green eyes narrowed, and she muttered
something to Marlene before very clearly turning her back on him.

Maybe he ought to abandon the whole idea. Obviously she wasn't happy to see him. But the
thought of having to partner with Avery for an entire year drove Severus forward until he was
staring at the back of her head.

"Lily," he said. "May I speak with you a moment?"

She didn't turn. "No, Sev. Go away."

She'd used his nickname. That had to mean something, at least. "I know you're angry,” he
said. “But have you considered — Potions this year is going to be extremely difficult, and it's
in both of our interests to continue to partner —"

"No," she said flatly. "I'm not interested."

"Lily. Surely even you can realise —"

Marlene turned around. "I'm sorry, do you know what the word 'no' means?"

Severus took an instinctual step backwards. Although he was a good head taller than
Marlene, she had always been the scariest of Lily's friends. "I wasn't talking to you," he said.
"Lily. Please."

Lily didn't respond.

"Huh," said Marlene. "Looks like she doesn't want to talk to you. Imagine that."

"Right," said Severus irritably, "I can take a hint. Well, don't come crying to me when Mary
Macdonald puts sloth brain instead of squill bulb into your Shrinking Solution — assuming
she managed to copy enough of your work to scrape an A on her Potions O.W.L., that is —"

Marlene let out a mirthless laugh. "Godric's teeth, I'm about three seconds away from hexing
you." She drew her wand from beneath her robes for emphasis. "Why don't you run along to
your little Death Eater friends now? Go on… one… two…"

"Hit a nerve, did I?" sneered Severus, but he stalked away, pushing aside a gaggle of first
year Slytherins.

Mulciber and Avery were waiting for him in the Slytherin common room, which looked as if
they'd never left it. Light from the lake cast dancing green and yellow shapes on the walls,
and an emerald fire crackled in the hearth.

"Bella's called a meeting," said Mulciber in a low voice. "Midnight. Dungeon Thirteen."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "I thought Bella made you the mentor. Are you incapable of
running a simple meeting?"

"Shut it, Sev," growled Mulciber. "Midnight. Be there. Or else."

"Well, when you put it so eloquently, what other choice do I have?"

Severus purposefully stayed in the common room, pretending to annotate his Potions
textbook, until after Mulciber left for Dungeon Thirteen. He glared at Severus as he walked
by. Only when Severus' watch showed it was two minutes to midnight did he pack up his
textbook and slip out of the common room.

Dungeon Thirteen hadn't changed over the summer, either. Its high-backed white chairs were
arranged in a circle, resembling a posh drawing room. Severus gave an ironic bow in
Mulciber's direction and settled into the last available armchair, next to one of the Slytherin
first years he had brushed past earlier.

"Are we indoctrinating eleven-year-olds now?" asked Severus. He glanced at the girl, who
had light brown skin and tightly coiled hair divided into pigtails.

The first year titled her chin, looking at him haughtily. "Now, Sev. Is that any way to address
your betters?"

Severus met the girl's eyes, frowning. Could it be? He placed a hand over his wand and
reached out towards the girl with his mind. Instantly, memories that were not his own flashed
before his eyes. The memories were strangely familiar: a green dress, a dead crow, and, for
the first time, a high-pitched laugh —

Severus looked away. "Bella." She must have used Polyjuice, or perhaps human
Transfiguration, though that was riskier.

The girl grinned. She still had baby teeth. Polyjuice, then. "Astute as always, Sev. I trust your
summer was a pleasant one?"

"As pleasant as a Muggle hovel can be," replied Severus. Beside him, Avery snickered. "Why
are you here, Bella? Don't tell me the Dark Lord has asked you to repeat your years of
magical education?"

"Hardly," said the girl dismissively. "I'm only at Hogwarts for the evening. I wasn't supposed
to come back at all, but You-Know-Who has deemed it necessary." She turned her gaze to the
others. "He has a mission for you all, and I suggest you do not disappoint him."

"Never, Bella," said Avery. Wilkes and Rosier murmured their assent.

The girl smiled. "You are all such good Followers. Now, I assume you've heard about the
Muggle-born Protection Act that Caradoc Dearborn has proposed?"

Severus nodded immediately, as did Avery and Rosier. Mulciber inclined his head after a
moment, though his lost expression made it clear that he had no idea what Bella was talking
about.

"Excellent," said Bella. "Dearborn has a long history of fraternising with Muggles, the blood
traitor, but this is the first time he's proposed a bill that may actually be successful. The
general population supports his Act, for reasons I cannot fathom." She spoke with obvious
distaste. "That said, the House of Mages must not, under any circumstances, approve his
proposal."

"Why not?' asked Avery. "If it gets passed, it'll just go straight to the House of Lords, and
they're bound to vote against it, aren't they?"

Severus was wondering the same thing, not that he'd admit it. There were a couple hundred
Mages of Parliament, which meant that all sorts of ideologies were represented in the House
of Mages. It stood to reason that nonsense like Dearborn's Act would slip through from time
to time.

The House of Lords, on the other hand, contained only twenty-eight seats — one for each of
the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the oldest wizarding pure-blood families. Surely these old families
would be more inclined to side with the Dark Lord over any Muggle-loving drivel.

The girl shook her head. "While we have the full backing of eleven Lords, only seven are
open supporters. The rest must be discreet. As such, it is highly probable that the House of
Lords would pass this Act. Under no circumstances can this happen." Her eyes were wild
with passion. "Increased security around Muggles of note would be an enormous setback. In
the past, leveraging the family members of those who oppose us has allowed us to make large
gains within the Ministry. This Act could change all that — or at least make it more difficult.
Which is where you all come in."

Mulciber's brow was so wrinkled he resembled a bulldog. Severus kept his expression
neutral, although he was as lost as Mulciber. What effect could a group of students possibly
have on wizarding politics?

The girl leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Dearborn has a daughter,
Sally. Seventh year Gryffindor. Head Girl. The Dark Lord has decided that it would be most
advantageous if she were to… disappear."

"Disappear?" repeated Mulciber. Severus winced.

"Obviously," said Bella, straightening. "It is high time we teach Dearborn a lesson. If we take
his daughter out of the picture, he may rescind the Act himself."

"Dearborn's a fanatic, though," said Avery. "My uncle's a Lord, I've heard his stories. He's
always said Dearborn loves Muggles more than anything else in the world."

Severus spoke up. "Dearborn is only one wizard. Even if he does not bend, the House of
Mages might. Especially if they fear we will come for their children next."

"Exactly.” Bella seemed pleased that Severus had grasped the situation so quickly.

"So…" said Mulciber slowly. "Do we kill her, or…?"

"I don't much care what you do," said Bella. "I trust that you do not need me to hold your
hand through this, Augustus." She stood up and pulled on a hooded cloak. "I must go. The
Polyjuice will be wearing off before long, and the Dark Lord is anxiously awaiting my return.
You are dismissed." She met Severus' eyes as she said this and shook her head ever so
slightly.

Severus blinked. She wanted him to stay, then. He inclined his head towards her to show that
he had understood.

After the others had filed out, Bella locked Dungeon Thirteen's golden door and turned to
Severus. "I have an additional assignment for you," she said.
"You, or the Dark Lord?"

"Me," said Bella. "I do not bother our Lord with tasks of such low importance. You are to
ensure that Regulus Black becomes an Intent."

"Really. Isn't that Mulciber's job?"

"I see being passed over for mentor has made you bitter," snapped Bella. "It is not a good
look on you."

"Being left in the dark all summer has made me bitter," retorted Severus. "Not one owl from
you, after everything we did last year —"

The girl's eyes gleamed with malice. "Was wittle Severus lonely? Did he miss his best fwiend
Bella?"

"There's no need to mock me. If you've grown tired of me, you should have just said —"

"Tired of you?" she said. "Listen to yourself. Did it ever occur to you that I didn't write
because I was occupied? There's a war going on outside of your little Cokeworth, Sev, and
some of us were busy fighting in it." She leaned forward. "I've seen things that would turn
your stomach. Things that make your Sectumsempra look tame. And you think I had time to
be your pen pal?"

Severus hadn't actually considered that. He tugged on the too-short sleeves of his robes. "My
apologies, Bella."

"Accepted," she said. "Now stop scowling about Mulciber. Lucius and I chose him to lead
because he is a Legacy, not because he is superior to you."

"Of course," said Severus sarcastically. "I'm sure my blood status wasn't a factor at all."

"It wasn't," said Bella. "You will have your chance. We are both aware of your talents, which
is why you are being given this task."

"And if Regulus refuses to be recruited?" asked Severus.

"His parents want him to Intent," said Bella simply, as if that settled the matter. She glanced
at the gilded clock on the wall. "One last thing, and quickly. You tried to talk to Lily Evans
today. I saw you."

The blood drained from Severus’ face. "That… I —"

"You chose us," hissed Bella. "You have no further need for her."

"I didn't mean — it was just for Potions —"

"LIES!" shouted the girl, and Severus was startled into silence. "I have seen your mind,
Severus! You might have the others fooled, but you cannot fool me!" She reached up and
grabbed him by his robes. Her eyes bored into his. "You must continue to walk the path I
have laid before you. Lily Evans is not part of that path. If you try to make amends with her, I
will know. And I will punish you."

"Fine," spat Severus, pushing her roughly away. "It was a mistake to try to talk with her,
anyway. She didn't want anything to do with me."

"I should think not," said Bella nastily. "You were awful to her last term. Even Mudbloods
have their limits, it seems." She checked her watch. "I cannot allow you to waste any more of
my time. Remember: recruit Regulus. I will know if you don't make an effort."

The door swung shut behind her with a clang.

After breakfast the following morning, the sixth year Gryffindors waited at their table for
Professor McGonagall to distribute their class schedules. Sirius tapped his fingers impatiently
on the table. Normally after breakfast he'd either be helping Remus with the crossword or
starting a food fight with James, but Remus had slept in that morning, and James sitting at the
other end of the table, discussing Quidditch with Parvana.

"Can you look over my timetable?" Peter asked Sirius worriedly. "I think it's alright, but I
couldn't remember when Care of Magical Creatures is held, so if I've gotten that wrong then
Defence is in the wrong spot too, and probably Charms as well…"

"Yeah, sure, give it here," said Sirius, taking the parchment. He pulled out his wand and
began to change the names of the subjects to include more swear words.

He had just finished 'Arse-tronomy' when Professor McGonagall came down from the
teacher's table, a roll of parchment in hand.

At the other end of the table, James handed her his timetable. "Morning, Professor."

"Good morning," replied Professor McGonagall stiffly. She pushed her spectacles up her nose
as she reviewed James' timetable. "I must say, I was very pleased with your Transfiguration
O.W.L. Very pleased. I think you will quite enjoy N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration."

"Thanks, Professor," said James. "I was wondering, do you think we'll cover Animagi this
year?"

"The process of becoming an Animagi is advanced beyond even N.E.W.T. level, Potter," said
McGonagall. "If you'd like to pursue it as an independent study, I would invite you to speak
with me privately."

"Nah, no need," said James, crossing his arms behind his head. "I was just wondering."

Sirius could have sworn he saw Professor McGonagall's lips twitch.

The sixth year girls had their timetables approved next — Sirius noted with some interest that
Mary MacDonald was taking a Muggle Studies-focused curriculum — and then Professor
McGonagall reached where Sirius was sitting.

"Your timetable, please, Black?" asked Professor McGonagall, extending a hand.

"Oh, right," said Sirius. "Er, I never got my O.W.L.s, so I didn't make one. Didn't want to get
ahead of myself."

Across the table, Peter stared at Sirius. "You told me you'd gotten twelve O.W.L.s!"

"Well, we don't know that I didn't," said Sirius. "Right, Professor?"

"I suppose anything is possible," said Professor McGonagall archly. "In that case, Black, I'd
ask you to accompany me to my office after I finish approving the schedules of your
classmates, so we can sort out your predicament."

"Gladly," said Sirius.

Professor McGonagall turned her attention to Peter, and her lips pressed tighter and tighter
together as she examined his timetable. "I suppose it was foolish of me to expect more from
you, Pettigrew, but 'Defence Against the Dark Farts'? Did you honestly expect me to find that
funny?"

Peter went pale. "What? I — you —" He looked at Sirius, wide-eyed.

Sirius excused himself before Professor McGonagall noticed what he'd done with
'Transfiguration'.

In McGonagall's office, Sirius dragged the velvet armchair that sat in the corner of the room
over to McGonagall's desk and plunked himself down into it. He'd spent enough time in her
office to know which chairs were the comfortable ones.

Professor McGonagall returned after another quarter hour, her eyes flashing dangerously
behind her glasses.

"You didn't like the Transfiguration joke, then?" asked Sirius.

"I expect anyone over the age of sixteen would be incapable of finding it funny," said
Professor McGonagall, taking a seat behind her desk.

"Shame," said Sirius. "I thought it was brilliant."

"That does not surprise me," said Professor McGonagall archly. "Now, then. I'm assuming
there is a reason why you did not receive your O.W.L.s."

"Er, yeah," said Sirius. He wished she weren't so good at cutting to the chase. "Family issues,
basically. You know how my parents are."
Professor McGonagall inclined her head briefly. "They kept the results of your examinations
from you?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Sirius. "I ended up leaving the house at the beginning of
August. Stayed with the Potters. The Ministry must not have known about my change of
address." He tried to sound as if the matter was of no great importance to him.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall. "Was there anything in particular that precipitated
your… leaving Grimmauld Place?"

Sirius lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. "It was sort of a mutual decision. My parents caught
me, er, in a compromising position. With a Muggle."

Professor McGonagall let out a sigh, looking suddenly pained. "You certainly don't make it
easy for yourself, do you?"

"People keep saying that," said Sirius irritably. "It's not my fault my parents are a pair of
maniacs."

"But when you purposely antagonise them…"

Sirius balled his hands into fists. He should have known she wouldn't be on his side. "I wasn't
trying to piss my parents off, alright? I actually cared about Dorcas. And if you think I'd ever
— that I meant for them to —" He needed to calm down before he said something he'd regret.
"You have no idea what they're like. None."

Professor McGonagall blinked. "Dorcas," she repeated. "Do you know what happened to this
Dorcas?"

Sirius clenched his jaw. "No. I sent her away with Kreacher after my parents found us. She
could be —"

He could have sworn he saw an expression of pity pass over McGonagall's face before she
composed herself. She straightened a little. "It may be for the best that your tryst ended when
it did. I should hardly have to tell you this, but Muggles do not belong in the Wizarding
World, Black. They are… more fragile than us."

Sirius grunted. "Yeah, well, lesson bloody learned."

"There's no need to feel foolish," said Professor McGonagall. She rifled through the papers
on her desk, not meeting his eyes. "You are not the first to have fallen for the allure of a
Muggle, and I am sure you will not be the last."

That sounded almost… like she had… Sirius sat up. "The allure of a Muggle? Professor,
surely you're not insinuating… have you —"

"That's quite enough, Black," said Professor McGonagall sharply, but a hint of colour
appeared on her cheeks.
"You have," said Sirius. "Godric's mane, Professor, there's no need to be embarrassed. Was it
— did you —"

"You are being ridiculous," said Professor McGonagall. She adjusted her pointed witches'
hat. "I only meant to say that as an adult with some perspective on the matter, I can assure
you that the vast majority of Muggle-wizard relationships end in tragedy. It is better you find
that out sooner rather than later."

"Cheers, Professor," said Sirius, raising an imaginary glass.

Professor McGonagall pretended not to have heard him. "Now," she said briskly, "onto the
subject of your O.W.L.s…"

"Yeah, give 'em here," said Sirius, reaching out an arm. "Me and James have ten pumpkin
pasties on who got the higher mark in Muggle Studies."

"I would hate to deprive you of pumpkin pasties," said Professor McGonagall. She slid a
sheet of parchment across the table. Sirius grabbed it eagerly and leaned forward in his chair,
eyes flicking over the results.

"Ha!" he said. "I knew it. James is gonna have to pay up."

There was a small smile at the edges of Professor McGonagall's mouth. "Your other marks
weren't too bad, either."

"I'll say," said Sirius, grinning at her. "Right, well, I'm definitely dropping Potions and
History of Magic, 'cause they're wastes of my time, but I'd like to continue on with the rest. If
that's okay, Professor?"

"That's quite satisfactory," said Professor McGonagall. She drew her wand and tapped a
blank piece of parchment. Immediately, splotches of ink blossomed across the parchment,
forming Sirius' timetable. "I will also inform the Ministry of the details of your change of
residence. I assume any further correspondence can be forwarded to the Potters?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," said Sirius, standing up. "Thanks, Professor. And, erm… thanks for
the advice about the whole, er, Muggle thing."

"No need to thank me," said Professor McGonagall stiffly. "I look forward to seeing you
during lessons, Black."

Classes began the following Monday, and Lily was surprised to discover that she had as
much coursework to do as ever, despite dropping both Astronomy and Ancient Runes. In
addition, the fact that class sizes were smaller meant that the professors were able to
scrutinise her work even more closely, leaving less room for error.
Severus was able to scrutinise her more closely, too, since he was now in both Potions and
Transfiguration with her. The mere sight of him was enough to make her flush with anger, but
there were some unexpected bright sides to the situation. The look on his face when Lily had
partnered with Mary during their first Potions lesson had been priceless.

On Wednesday at breakfast, Lily nearly nodded off into her mug of tea.

"Careful," said Parvana, steadying her. "Are you feeling alright, Lily?"

"F — fine," said Lily through a yawn. She'd stayed up past midnight completing an essay
about Gamp's Law for Professor McGonagall. "This year is going to kill me."

"Should've gone into Muggle Relations like me," Mary told her brightly. "I'm averaging one
lesson a day, it's brilliant."

Lily merely grunted around a mouthful of toast.

"That's the spirit," said Marlene, yawning loudly. She was hoping to obtain enough N.E.W.T.s
to become an Auror, and as such had stayed up even later than Lily had. "We just have to
make it to after dinner and then we can nap. There's a room on the seventh floor that's full of
pillows and blankets, I'll have to show you…"

"I'm not free after dinner," said Lily miserably. "I'm meeting Madam Pomfrey for my
apprenticeship."

Marlene blinked. "That's right! Oh, you'll like that, though. I started my apprenticeship with
Auror Bones yesterday, and it was amazing."

"Maybe Madam Pomfrey will let me take a nap on one of the cots," said Lily wistfully,
pouring herself a third cup of tea.

As soon as Lily arrived at the hospital wing, however, it became clear that there would be no
opportunities for napping. There were four students lying on cots already, with another three
still queued up, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to examine them. Madam Pomfrey, for her part,
was pouring a foul-smelling potion down the throat of a third year Ravenclaw who appeared
to have grown a third arm.

Madam Pomfrey glanced up as Lily shut the door behind her. "Ah, Lily, you're here! Perfect
timing. Would you mind helping Eustace here to an available cot, and then fetching him a
dose of Soothing Salve? It should be in the medicine cupboard, top shelf on the left."

"Erm, of course," said Lily, feeling a bit overwhelmed already. She took the unfortunate
Eustace by the arm and steered him to an empty cot. A sixth year Slytherin girl who appeared
to be completely bald immediately took a seat on the stool Eustace had vacated, and Madam
Pomfrey began to examine her.

Once Lily had guided Eustace to his cot, she pulled the door of the medicine cupboard open
and groaned. Of course it was bigger on the inside. Not only that, but the shelves were
overflowing with vials and assorted medical supplies, making it nearly impossible to pick out
anything in particular among the mess.

"Evans," called Madam Pomfrey, "Have you found the Soothing Salve? Sooner rather than
later would be preferable…"

Lily heard a retch, followed by a splashing sound. "Erm, coming!" she called, sifting through
the topmost shelf, which was covered in glass decanters containing liquids of all sizes and
colours. Finally, behind a bottle full of purple liquid that was marked with a skull and clearly
labelled 'Hemlock', she spotted the salve.

She practically sprinted to Eustace's bedside. She uncorked the bottle quickly and poured the
potion into a silver thimble. Eustace grabbed the potion with his third arm and downed it,
shuddering as he swallowed. After a couple of seconds, the greenish colour vanished from his
face, and he slumped back onto the pillows, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Right," said Lily. "I'll just — erm — get you a glass of water, shall I?"

Eustace nodded, and Lily slipped out from the curtain surrounding the cot. She returned to
Madam Pomfrey, who immediately passed the bald Slytherin girl off to her, with the
instructions that she add two Veela hairs to a mouthful of something called Sleekeazy's
Finest.

The flow of students slowed to a trickle after about an hour. During that time, Lily ran
somewhat frantically around the hospital wing, guiding students to their cots and rummaging
through the cupboard for the appropriate remedies. At last, the final student in the queue — a
tiny first year Gryffindor with bright blue hives all over her face — had been set right with an
application of a poultice to her cheeks.

Lily looked expectantly at the doors of the hospital wing, sure that another student in crisis
was about to burst through the oaken doors. To her surprise, Remus Lupin walked in. He was
clearly ill; his eyes were bright, as if with fever, and he seemed to be having trouble
breathing.

"Remus?" asked Lily. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," said Remus between gasps. He looked a bit confused at Lily's presence in the hospital
wing but didn't seem to be any condition to make conversation. "Madam Pomfrey — is she
around…?"

"I'm here," said Madam Pomfrey. She took him by the arm and he sagged a little, leaning into
her. "We'll just be off, then, shall we? Lily, I'll be gone for a minute, never you mind — if
anyone comes in urgently, just send an owl, I'll be back in a jiff —" And she whisked Remus
out of the hospital wing before Lily had a chance to respond.

Lily sat at the triage desk, watching the doors swing shut behind them. She remembered
Severus' odd insistence that something was funny with Remus Lupin, and wondered idly
what the moon phase was. She'd dropped Astronomy, though, so she didn't have any idea.
Madam Pomfrey returned a half hour later and resumed putting Lily through her paces. In the
end, it was well after ten o'clock at night by the time Lily left the hospital wing. Her feet
ached and her mind was racing with all that she had seen that evening, but she was quite
pleased with the entire experience. She had nearly mastered the Episkey spell, and Madam
Pomfrey had even taught her how to calculate accurate doses of Skele-Gro.

Lily traced the pattern for the Episkey spell in the air with her index finger as she turned the
corner of the fifth floor corridor. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she paused,
her hand still in the air; there were whispers coming from behind a statue of Gregory the
Smarmy.

"Who's there?" she called, drawing her wand. "Lumos."

The whispers stopped at once. Lily frowned and advanced on the statue, wand held aloft.
"Whoever you are, come on out. It's past curfew." The light from her wand illuminated the
alcove behind the statue. Nobody was there.

There was a sudden squeaking sound and something small shot out from behind the base of
the statue. It raced past Lily and down the corridor.

Lily whirled around and pointed her wand at it. "Stupefy." A burst of red light hit the small
creature and it stopped in its tracks, collapsing on the carpet. Lily advanced on it. She
wrinkled her nose when she saw what it was.

"Just a mouse," she muttered, picking it up by its tail to examine it more closely. She really
must be exhausted if she was mistaking the squeaking of a mouse for whispers. Lily pocketed
the poor thing before straightening up; at the very least, it would make a good treat for the
next time she needed to send a letter in the Owlery.

There was a rustle behind her and Lily turned to see James and Sirius striding towards her.

"Evening, Evans," said James cheerfully, stuffing a silvery cloak into his bag. "Fancy meeting
you here. I think I'll need that rat back, if you don't mind." He held out his hand.

Lily narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t spoken to James since she’d caught him bullying Severus
by the lake the previous year, but his presence in this corridor was proof that all good things
must come to an end. "Why?"

"We're gonna feed it to the Giant Squid," said Sirius, winking at her.

She folded her arms. "You're planning on feeding a mouse to the Giant Squid at nearly
midnight on a Wednesday?"

"Oh, is that the time?" asked James, widening his eyes. "We had no idea." Beside him, Sirius
checked his Muggle watch and let out a gasp of mock horror.

"Potter," said Lily, exasperated, "it's the third day of classes. Are you really breaking curfew
already?"
James shrugged. "I mean, technically, the first time was on Monday, but we didn't get caught
then, so…"

He clearly hadn’t changed at all over the summer. "You know I'm going to have to give you
detention," said Lily.

James grinned. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"I'm sure that'll teach us a lesson," said Sirius. "We won't be breaking curfew again in a
hurry."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

"Believe you me, Evans," said James. "From now on it's a new leaf for us. Just imagine, a
round of detentions! The horror…"

"Keep talking, and it'll be two rounds of detentions," said Lily. "Now, how would you like to
accompany me back to Gryffindor tower?"

"That's actually the whole reason we snuck out," said James. "Can't have young Gryffindor
women walking back to the common room by themselves." He tried to take Lily by the arm,
but she shook him off.

"Could we get that rat back?" asked Sirius as the three made their way down the corridor.

Lily shrugged and placed the unconscious rat in Sirius' hand. "I don't even want to know what
you really have planned with the poor thing."

"We would never hurt him," said James. "He's our pet. Had him since second year."

"Now I really feel bad for it," said Lily, and Sirius laughed.

After a couple of minutes of walking, they reached the Gryffindor common room. "I'm sure
McGonagall will be in touch about the detentions," said Lily, yawning.

"Excellent," said James. "Anything to spend more time with Minnie. Night, Evans."

"Yeah, goodnight," said Sirius. "We're definitely not going to sneak out again the minute you
go up to your dormitory."

Lily rubbed at her eyes. "You're lucky I've been awake for eighteen hours at this point. I'm
past caring about anything that isn't my bed."

"Good girl," said James. "Get some rest. We'll see you in the morning."

"God, I hope not," said Lily, climbing the stairs to her dormitory. "I'm planning on sleeping
in."

It was only after she had brushed her teeth and snuggled under her blankets that she realised
that she was absolutely positive James had not kept a pet rat since the second year. She
frowned for a moment before giving a mental shrug and rolling over in bed. Who could
fathom the mind of James Potter?
 The Recruitment of Regulus Black

Quidditch tryouts for the Slytherin team took place the following morning, and Severus
found himself signing up to try out for Seeker. It was the best chance he had to talk to
Regulus without being overheard.

"Alright, Severus?" asked Mulciber as Severus joined him on the Quidditch pitch. He was
leaning on his Beater's bat as if it were a cane, seeming not to care that the tip had sunk into
the mud. He smirked as he took in Severus' secondhand Quidditch robes and broom. "Nice
ride. Didn't know you played."

"I thought I'd try something new," said Severus drily. "I've been told I have the build of a
Seeker." This was a stretch, and Severus knew it; his scrawny figure was the product of
chronic malnourishment, unlike the lithe muscles of a Seeker.

Mulciber gave Severus a once-over and grunted. "Yeah, I guess. The queue for Seeker tryouts
is over there." He jerked his head towards the far end of the Quidditch pitch.

"Thanks," said Severus. He picked up his broom, a tattered Cleansweep Two he'd swiped
from Madam Hooch's shed that morning, and joined the back of the queue. Regulus was only
a couple places ahead of him. The morning breeze lifted the ends of Regulus' hair, which was
the same sleek onyx as his brother's, though Regulus kept his hair a good deal shorter.

Severus made a movement as if he was rotating his shoulders, and his wand, which had been
hidden up his sleeve, slipped into his hand. From there, it was simple enough to direct a pair
of silent jinxes at the students separating him from Regulus. One of the students, a Slytherin
fourth year, immediately began to hyperventilate before making a dash for the changing
room, muttering something about 'nerves'.

The other student doubled over, pinching his nose. Blood spattered the back of Regulus'
Quidditch robes, which were such a brilliant shade of emerald green they must have been
brand new.

"Oh, dear," said Severus, not sounding concerned at all. "Come down with a nosebleed, eh,
Shafiq? Must be all this dry air we're having."

Cassius Shafiq turned towards Severus. "Erm, yeah, I…"

"Let me take a look at that," said Severus. He pulled Shafiq's hand away from his face,
examining the blood smeared across his palm. Shafiq paled; he swayed on his feet for a
second before toppling to the ground, unconscious.

"Pity," said Severus. "He never could handle the sight of blood."

Regulus glanced at Shafiq's unmoving form and looked away so quickly he, too, may have
been afraid of blood. That, or he was supremely unconcerned with the welfare of others.
Interesting, thought Severus.
"Shall we move him off the pitch?" said Regulus, his eyes on the sky. His voice was
remarkably like his brother's, though Regulus' enunciation was crisper, making him sound
impossibly well-bred.

Severus nodded, and Regulus draw his wand. He muttered something under his breath and
Shafiq began to float towards the stands, out of harm's way.

"Think he got some blood on your robes, the oaf," said Severus, pointing his wand at the hem
of Regulus' robes. "Allow me."

A flicker of alarm passed over Regulus' face. "There's no need —"

Severus caught Regulus' glance at his ill-fitting, hand-me-down Quidditch robes. His mouth
filled with a sour taste. "Of course."

Regulus flicked his wand and the blood vanished from his robes. "It's Snape, right?" he asked
as he examined his handiwork. "Severus Snape?"

"Indeed."

"Regulus Black," said Regulus, extending a hand. "I believe you know my brother?"

"After a fashion," said Severus.

Regulus' lip twitched. The girl ahead of Regulus jogged out onto the field to take her turn as
Seeker, leaving the two of them alone in the queue. "I didn't realise you played Quidditch."

"Not normally," said Severus, keeping his eyes on the girl as she mounted her broom. "You
could say I'm not much of a team player."

Regulus actually laughed at that, a short, staccato burst. "Why are you here then, Snape?"

"I want to offer you an opportunity," said Severus.

The humour vanished from Regulus' angular face. "I see."

"You've heard rumours, I'm sure," said Severus. "There exists a group here at Hogwarts that
seeks to serve the Dark Lord, in whatever capacity he may require of us as students."

Regulus' grey eyes were fixed on Severus. "Go on."

"There's a process for joining. Nothing out of the ordinary — it mostly consists of spending
time together, performing service activities. Occasional group meetings. That sort of thing."

"Nothing out of the ordinary," echoed Regulus. "And suppose I'm not interested?"

"I understand that your parents would quite like this for you."

Regulus narrowed his eyes. "You've been speaking to Bella."

"Naturally," said Severus. "But not to worry — I am not seeking to manipulate you. This
group is an excellent opportunity to make connections, learn new things, and expand your
social circle. There's no reason not to join."

"I can think of one," said Regulus. "I would be aligning myself with a certain side."

"Let's not pretend that hasn't been the plan for you all along," said Severus. "Especially
considering your brother, the Gryffindor…" He trailed off, letting the sentence dangle
between them.

Regulus' expression darkened, and for a moment he looked so much like Sirius that Severus
felt the sudden urge to curse him. "Point taken." He looked away. Severus followed his gaze;
the girl who was trying out for Seeker was flying back and forth somewhat desperately in her
search for the Snitch.

"We're meeting at ten in the common room on Saturday before going to Hogsmeade," said
Severus. "We've been given an assignment there."

"Sounds exciting," said Regulus, his tone indicating he found it anything but.

"It's better than whatever drivel you've got planned for the weekend," retorted Severus.
"We're going to put Caradoc Dearborn in his place — that blood traitor who's been stirring up
trouble with the Muggle-born Protection Act. You must have heard of him."

There was a flicker of recognition in Regulus' eyes. "Does Dearborn go on Hogsmeade

excursions, as well?"

"His daughter does," said Severus, and Regulus' eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "Will you
be joining us on Saturday?"

Regulus went back to watching the tryouts. The girl was now descending, looking like she
was holding back tears. "I suppose I will."

"You could at least pretend to be enthusiastic about the prospect."

"You're getting me confused with my brother," said Regulus, a hint of nastiness creeping into
his voice. "Enthusiastic is not my style." He adjusted his broom on his shoulder. "Looks like
I'm up. Best of luck with tryouts."

"About that," said Severus. "It seems I've come down with a sudden stomach ache. I don't
think I'll be able to try out, after all."

Regulus' thin lips curled into the semblance of a smile. "Less competition for me. I'll see you
on Saturday, then." Before Severus could respond, Regulus had jogged off. He mounted his
broom when he was halfway across the Quidditch pitch and took to the air, as graceful in
flight as on the ground. Such effortlessness was surely the result of both a lifetime of private
Quidditch lessons and the inherent nobility that had been bred into Regulus from birth.

Severus fought the feeling of jealousy curdling his insides and trudged off the pitch.
James and Sirius ended up serving their detentions in the library, shelving returned books for
Madam Pince. It was, in James' opinion, one of the dullest detentions he'd ever had, second
only to helping Professor Binns grade essays.

He picked up a book from the large stack atop the table and turned it over in his hands. The
cover was embossed with gold and titled Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. Each
chapter described, in excruciating detail, the family history of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"Hey, Padfoot," said James, skimming the chapter labelled Black. "Did you know you've got
a great-uncle named Lycoris Black who nearly burned down London three hundred years
ago? Most devastating use of Fiendfyre on record, it says here…"

"Oh, him," said Sirius. "Yeah, Mum still visits his grave on the anniversary. I know just the
place for that book, give it here..." He pulled the copy of Nature's Nobility out of James'
hands and shoved it onto a shelf, between The Magic of Muggles and My Life as a Squib.

"I don't think it belongs there," said Remus mildly from an armchair. He had accompanied
them to the library, supposedly to supervise their detention.

"Oh, my mistake," said Sirius. "Didn't realise the school library had a section labelled Pure-
Blooded Tosh. If you'll just point it out to me, Moony..."

Remus frowned. "It's only a history book."

The playful tone left Sirius' voice. "It's garbage."

"I've got an idea," said James loudly, hoping to distract Sirius before he followed in his
uncle's footsteps and set fire to the library.

Remus seized upon the opportunity to change the subject at once. "An idea? That sounds
dangerous."

"Nah," said James. "I mean, not comparatively. You know how we missed the full this week
cause Evans caught us sneaking down to Willow?"

"I seem to remember something along those lines," said Remus. He indicated the long scratch
across his temple that had yet to heal completely.

"Well, I've been thinking about that," said James. "And I've decided we need to figure out a
way to keep tabs on where Evans is at all times. To avoid her, of course."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, that sounds like a good use of our time."

"One of these days Lily's bound to get a restraining order against you," said Remus. A fat rat
with sandy fur peeked out of Remus' pocket and squeaked its agreement.
"Shut it, Wormtail," said James. "I'm not joking. The Invisibility Cloak can only get us so far.
If we knew where the prefects were patrolling, we wouldn't have to sneak around under the
Cloak in the first place — we could just avoid them."

"That's actually not a bad idea," said Sirius. "We could create some sort of map of Hogwarts
that tracks the movement of prefects and the professors."

"Exactly," said James. "If anyone asks about it, we can say we're, I don't know, starting the
first Hogwarts Cartography Club or something."

"We could probably get Binns to sponsor us, even," said Sirius. "He never knows what's
going on, he'll sign anything…"

Remus' head was tilted thoughtfully. "We should include more than just authority figures on
the map. Mulciber's little gang, for example. I don't much fancy running into them."

"Well, there's no point in tracking Snivellus," said Sirius. "You only have to find Evans and
he's across the room somewhere, pining after her so hard it looks like he's about to take a
dump…"

James snorted. "I think a modified Homonculous Charm would work for the map. I've used
the spell before when we needed dew for the Animagi transformations. Shouldn't be too
difficult."

The rat tumbled out of Remus' pocket and darted behind the armchair he was sitting in. A
moment later, Peter emerged, smoothing his hair. "Where're we gonna get a map of
Hogwarts, though?"

James and Sirius looked at each other. "Erm, not sure," said James. "I guess we could make
one ourselves —"

Remus shut the book he'd been reading. "Have none of you ever opened a copy of Hogwarts:
A History?"

"I have, technically," said Sirius. "If only to use its pages for a loo roll…"

Remus shook his head and stood up, leaving the aisle. He returned after a couple of minutes,
holding Hogwarts: A History. "Every copy comes with a map," he said. "How else are first
years supposed to find their way around?"

Peter stared at Remus incredulously. "You mean we didn't have to spend our first six months
as students stumbling blindly around Hogwarts?"

"You were the only one stumbling, Wormtail," said Sirius. "The rest of us had the castle
memorised after a week. We just thought it was a laugh to let you lead the way."

Remus opened his copy of Hogwarts: A History on the table, unfurling the map inside. "The
most recent edition is nearly two hundred years old, so it isn't perfect," he said. "It hasn't got
any of the secret passageways, and the entire third floor is missing, for some reason. The
dungeons are left mostly blank, as well…"
"It's a start, though," said James, drawing his wand. "Diffindo." The map separated from the
spine of the book. James folded it and placed it into his pocket. "Let's start working on it
when we go to the kitchens tonight."

Unfortunately, during dinner in the kitchens, Peter spilt a goblet of Butterbeer all over the
map, rendering everything from the Great Hall to the sixth floor a soggy mess of smeared
ink.

"Oops," said Peter. "My fault. No worries, though…" He pulled out his wand. "Evanesco."
The ink siphoned off the map and into his wand, leaving the parchment completely blank.

There was a pause.

James recovered first. "Well, there's more than one copy of Hogwarts: A History in the
library. Right, Remus?"

As it turned out, the library contained two additional copies of Hogwarts: A History, which
James managed to smuggle out under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Take two," said James, once they were back in their dormitory. "Should we start working on
the essentials, then?"

Remus nodded. "We definitely need to add the third floor."

"Erm," said James, "I think you misunderstood. I was talking about tracking Lily Evans."

Sirius threw his hands in the air in frustration and left the room.

By the end of the week, both of the maps James had snuck out of the library had been ruined.
Peter accidentally set one on fire, though he swore up and down he had no idea how it had
happened and definitely hadn't been experimenting with Fiendfyre. James found the other
map ripped to shreds beside Sirius' bed.

"It was an accident," Sirius said quickly at the expression on James' face. "You know how I
get when I'm Padfoot, I get urges and I can't help myself…"

"That's a load of dung," said James. "I'm an Animagus, too, remember? I know how it works.
You don't get urges —"

"You do if you transform for long enough," said Sirius. "I've spent more time as Padfoot than
you have as Prongs, and I'm telling you, I get urges."

"Me too," said Peter, scrambling onto Sirius' bed. "I always crave cheese when I'm
Wormtail."

"Yeah," said James, "but how often do you crave cheese as a human being?"

"Er… constantly?"

"My point exactly. Animagi don't get urges, Sirius, you just ruined the map for no reason —"
"Well, I know what I'm asking Minnie about during our next Transfiguration lesson," said
Sirius.

James rolled his eyes. "In the meantime, how are we going to get more maps?"

"We get to go to Hogsmeade this weekend," Remus pointed out. "We could just buy more
copies of Hogwarts: A History at Tomes and Scrolls."

"When you say 'we', do you mean 'James'?" asked Sirius. "Because I'm a bit skint at the
moment. Side effect of running away from home, you know…"

"I did mean James," said Remus, looking pleased. "I'm sure he won't mind."

"I'm right here, and I do mind," said James. "If you lot ruin any more maps with your animal
urges —"

"Need to break a few eggs to make a basilisk, mate," said Sirius, slinging an arm around
James' shoulders. "It'll all be worth it in the end."

James elbowed him in the side. "Get your mangy paws off me."

"I haven't got mange. I'm too pretty."

"If you ruin another map I'm going to put you on a leash."

"Kinky," said Sirius. "I like it."

James groaned and shoved Sirius off him. "Fancy a game of pickup Quidditch?"

"No," said Remus and Peter simultaneously.

"Only if I get to ride Elvendork," said Sirius, snatching what appeared to be a miniature
motorcycle off his bedside table.

James raised an eyebrow. "You're going to lose if you ride Elvendork. That thing has the
worst turning radius I've ever seen."

"Hush." Sirius cupped his hands over the motorcycle. "Elvendork can hear you. You'll ruin
my baby's self-confidence."

"Good," said James. "Then you'll definitely lose. Remus, wanna keep score?"

"No," said Remus.

"Excellent," said James, picking his Quidditch robes up off the floor. "Peter, you can ref. I'll
meet you lot at the pitch in ten."
"Where's your little protege, Sev?" asked Mulciber, pushing open the massive oak doors that
led to the castle grounds. It was Saturday and though it was early, the only students still
inside the castle were the first and second years who couldn't yet go to Hogsmeade. "Thought
he was meeting us in the common room."

"He's already in Hogsmeade," said Severus. "Got breakfast with a family member. He said
he'd meet us outside the post office." He tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the truth was he'd
bet ten Galleons, if he had any, that Regulus had gotten cold feet. Severus didn't blame him;
he himself wasn't exactly looking forward to — whatever it was they were going to do to
Sally. Mulciber had been infuriatingly tight-lipped about the details of his plan, which meant
that whatever happened would probably be disastrous.

Severus had kept an eye on Sally these past few weeks, and the way she carried herself
reminded him of his father. Tobias always looked like he was ready to punch first and ask
questions later. Privately, Severus expected one of two outcomes: either Mulciber would
perform the Killing Curse on Sally in broad daylight in the middle of the Three Broomsticks,
or else Sally would murder Mulciber for daring to attack her.

It was a quick walk in the crisp autumn air to Hogsmeade. As they approached the village,
Severus was surprised to see Regulus leaning against the wall of the post office. Regulus
raised a hand coolly at the group in greeting before falling into step beside Severus.

Mulciber nodded approvingly. "Black. Wasn't sure you'd make it."

An expression of mild surprise appeared on Regulus' aristocratic features. "I would have
thought Severus had told you I was having breakfast with a family member."

"Er," said Mulciber. "He did, but…"

Regulus' lips pressed together in a small smile. "Thought I might have backed out of what
we're about to do here?"

"Something like that," grunted Mulciber. "This brotherhood is not for everybody."

"I see," said Regulus, sounding unimpressed. "Oh, by the way — I saw Sally Dearborn pass
by not ten minutes ago. Looked to me like she was heading to the Three Broomsticks."

"Or Zonko's," said Severus. "It's on the way."

The Secondaries turned onto the main street, where Mulciber ordered them to make a show
of admiring Spintwitches' window display of broomsticks while he slipped into Zonko's.

He emerged a couple of minutes later. "She's in there," he muttered, squeezing beside Severus
at the window display. "Should be out soon, she was queuing up to buy something."

Not five minutes later, the door to Zonko's jingled. Severus fought the urge to turn and look,
keeping his eyes on the broomsticks. Out of his peripheral vision, a figure in a red coat
stepped into the street.
"We'll tail her," said Mulciber out of the corner of his mouth. "Slowly, now…"

Sally Dearborn, with her red coat and blonde plaits, was not a difficult person to follow. She
strode down the street, weaving between clusters of students, before pulling open the door to
the Three Broomsticks and vanishing inside.

"Now's our chance," said Mulciber. "Regulus, go in there and tell her there's a couple of
students duelling behind Honeydukes."

Regulus looked sideways at Mulciber. "Why me?"

"Because you're a prefect, and so is she. She'll feel obligated to back you up."

"Edmund's a prefect, too," said Regulus with a glance at Avery.

Mulciber clapped a meaty hand on Regulus' shoulder. "Ah, but Edmund is not the one who
needs to prove himself, is he?"

Regulus shrugged off Mulciber's hand. "Point taken." Before Mulciber could say anything
more, Regulus crossed the street, turning up the collar of his starched coat. He hesitated at the
entrance to the Three Broomsticks, but only for a moment before he pulled open the door to
the pub, his jaw set.

"Spread out," ordered Mulciber as soon as Regulus had vanished into the Three Broomsticks.
"Wilfred and I will be behind Honeydukes. Evan, Edmund, head down the street a bit. If she
escapes from us, I want you there to intercept her. Severus, you'll be in the alley by the Three
Broomsticks. Disillusion yourself, you're good at that. When Regulus and Sally go behind
Honeydukes, I want you following. Hex her if she tries to get away. Understood?"

Severus nodded and crossed the busy street, his oversized robes billowing behind him as he
ducked into the alleyway beside the Three Broomsticks. He drew his wand, and his body
shimmered for a moment before becoming translucent. Satisfied, he crouched behind a rain
barrel.

After a couple of minutes, Regulus emerged from the Three Broomsticks, Sally Dearborn in
tow. She was much shorter than Regulus, and her height combined with her blonde plaits
made her look almost childish. Vulnerable, thought Severus.

"Where did you say the duel was?" she asked. Regulus' response was lost among the noise of
the crowd as he steered her across the street, towards the alley which wrapped around
Honeydukes.

Severus ducked out from behind the rain barrel and followed them, dodging between clusters
of students ambling along the street. He caught up to Regulus and Sally right as they
disappeared around a bend in the alley. Severus went no further, pressing himself into the
corner of the bend. He kept his hand on his wand; if Sally tried to run, he'd be responsible for
stopping her.
Behind Honeydukes, Mulciber and Wilkes were pretending to duel. Wilkes was wearing
Hufflepuff robes and had applied some sort of charm that made him appear to have red hair
and severe acne.

Their fight was rather unconvincing, in Severus' opinion. Mulciber fired a Bat-Bogey Hex at
Wilkes which went obviously wide, shooting over Wilkes' head and ricocheting off the brick
wall of Honeydukes.

"Alright, you two," said Sally, striding ahead of Regulus in true Gryffindor fashion.
"Playtime's over. Wands away, or it's a round of detentions for —"

She broke off as Mulciber wheeled towards her, slashing his wand through the air. A jet of
silver light barrelled towards her — Severus recognised it as one of his nastier jinxes — and
she ducked. The spell missed her by inches. Mulciber blinked, seeming surprised that Sally's
reflexes were so quick.

"Hexing a prefect," said Sally, panting a little as she straightened up. "Right, that'll make it a
month's worth of detentions —"

Wilkes exchanged a look with Mulciber, and then the two of them made identical
movements, tracing a symbol in the air with their wands.

Sally's eyes widened. "No," she said, backing up. "Regulus, do you see this, they're…" There
was a shimmer in the air around Sally, and her voice faded. Her mouth continued to move,
but no sound came out. Sally whirled towards Regulus, panicked, shouting something that
none of them could hear.

Regulus' knuckles were white where he gripped his wand, his mouth set in a thin line. "Sorry,
Sally," he muttered, raising his wand. "Stup —"

Sally made a sudden movement and Regulus' wand went flying out of his hand. Sally caught
it and spun towards Wilkes and Mulciber, fury blazing in her eyes as she pointed both wands
at them. She shot a nonverbal hex at Wilkes with Regulus' wand while a Shield Charm
erupted from the tip of her own.

Severus' pulse quickened. Stupid Mulciber; Sally was a seventh year, and the daughter of the
Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation to boot. Of course she'd been
taught advanced defensive magic.

The hex caught Wilkes in the abdomen, and he fell to his knees as his legs began to fuse
together, forming a large, orange fishtail.

Mulciber grunted, his wand aloft as he advanced on Sally. "Sectum," he growled, and the
curse slid through the Shield Charm as easily as if it were made of silk, catching Sally on the
shoulder. Sally's mouth twisted as she cried out in obvious pain, though she made no sound.
A dark stain began to spread across the shoulder of her red coat.

She glanced at Regulus, her eyes sliding over Severus' Disillusioned form before she turned
back to Wilkes and Mulciber, her eyes calculating. Then, with a shake of her wand, her
Shield Charm vanished and she began to run, sprinting past Regulus, towards Severus —

Severus raised his wand and shot a Trip Jinx at Sally's feet. She stumbled, then fell, her jaw
hitting the ground hard. Mulciber advanced on her, Wilkes flopping uselessly on the ground
behind him. Sally scrambled onto her back, drawing complicated patterns in the air with her
wand. The ground under Severus' feet began to quake, and Mulciber jumped backwards as a
solid brick wall rose up from the ground. It divided the alleyway in two, trapping Mulciber
and Wilkes on the other side of the wall.

Sally examined her handiwork from where she was lying on her back. She seemed pleased,
though her smile looked more like a grimace. She twisted towards Regulus, her expression
wary as she pointed his own wand at him. Severus barely dared to breathe; she still hadn't
seemed to notice he was there.

Regulus didn't move. He met Sally's gaze steadily. After a moment, Sally began to lower her
arm. Severus couldn't believe it. She was actually going to set Regulus' wand on the ground
for him. Did she honestly believe Regulus was on her side?

There was a sudden booming noise; the wall shook as something exploded into the bricks
from the other side. Sally started at the noise, and Regulus darted forward, grabbing his wand
out of her hands.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Regulus, but Sally had already raised her own wand, and she
deflected the spell with ease. She scrambled to her feet, her face twisted in fury at Regulus'
betrayal. She trained her wand on Regulus and her mouth moved, though no sound came out.

The spell, black as pitch, caught Regulus in the stomach. There was a horrible squelching
sound and Regulus cried out in pain, doubling over with his arms wrapped around his waist.

A second booming noise shook the wall, sending bricks tumbling onto the ground. Sally spat
in Regulus' direction, then turned on her heel and fled down the alley. Severus aimed his
wand at her from where he was hiding, muttering a curse under his breath, but the spell
soared over her head. Sally pointed her wand over her injured shoulder, and Severus barely
managed to cast a Shield Charm in time to deflect the three Stunning Spells that came
barrelling towards him.

Suddenly, Rosier and Avery appeared at the entry of the alleyway, blocking Sally's exit. Sally
didn't slow; she pointed her wand at herself and then — Severus blinked several times in
surprise — she leapt into the air, soaring over the heads of Rosier and Avery. She landed
somewhere in the middle of the crowded street, vanishing into the throng of students.

Behind Severus came a final booming sound, accompanied by a flash of red light. He turned
in time to see the brick wall that Sally had conjured crumble and vanish. Mulciber and
Wilkes stood in its place, pointing their wands at where the wall had been. Wilkes had gotten
rid of his fishtail, though his feet were still covered in orange scales.

"Where'd she go?" demanded Mulciber, his icy blue eyes flicking between Severus'
disillusioned form and Regulus, who had gone very pale as he clutched his stomach.
"East. Towards the Shrieking Shack," said Severus, ending his disillusionment spell.

"Well then, what are you lot waiting for?" growled Mulciber. "Find her!"

Rosier and Avery nodded and sprinted out of the alley, Mulciber and Wilkes right behind
them. Severus figured his athletic ability was the least useful of his talents, so instead of
pursuing Sally Dearborn, he turned towards Regulus. "Are you injured?"

"Think so," said Regulus, who was still doubled over and breathing hard. "My stomach… I
feel…"

"Show me."

Regulus lifted his shirt slowly, wincing in pain. Just above his navel, where the spell had hit
him, there was a smoky black mark larger than Severus' hand. It looked if something had
exploded within Regulus, charring his skin from the inside.

"She's cursed you," said Severus. "I'm not sure with what — could be a number of things."
Off the top of his head, he could think of seven different spells that could produce similar
effects. At least three were fatal, though he didn't think Regulus needed to know that.

"Thanks," muttered Regulus between clenched teeth. "Hugely helpful."

"Well, I'm not a Mediwizard," snapped Severus. "I suggest you see Madam Pomfrey if you
want an actual diagnosis."

"Fantastic," panted Regulus, who looked like he was trying not to vomit. "Reckon this was a
successful ambush, considering I ended up more injured than Dearborn was?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Lucius and Bella should never have put Mulciber in charge. The
imbecile knows how to cast the godforsaken Imperius Curse, yet he decides to put his faith in
the fact that he can probably beat her in a duel. We deserved this outcome."

"We," repeated Regulus, the scepticism evident in his voice.

"You heard correctly," replied Severus acerbically. "I saw you try to Disarm her. You are just
as culpable of the rest of us."

Regulus blanched, and for a moment looked like he was going to be sick. "I didn't — I didn't
use force..."

Severus was spared having to respond to the idiocy of that statement as Mulciber returned
with the other Secondaries in tow. A vein in Mulciber's forehead was pulsing dangerously.
"She got away," he said shortly. "We couldn't find her."

"Well," said Severus nastily, "that certainly won't come back to haunt us."

Mulciber whirled towards Severus, swinging a fist through the air. Severus ducked on
instinct, and Mulciber's fist collided with the wall.
Mulciber swore angrily, shaking his fist, but the pain seemed to calm him a bit. "No matter,"
he muttered, examining his bloody knuckles. "We'll try again. And next time, she won't get
away so easily."
 Parchment and Ink

The following Wednesday, Lily was cleaning the bedpans in the hospital wing when she
heard the door creak open. She glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who was in the middle of casting
an extremely complex Untransfiguration Charm on Davey Gudgeon, a Ravenclaw fourth year
who had attempted to turn his fingers into dining utensils, with disastrous results. Madam
Pomfrey paused her incantation just long enough to indicate that Lily should get the door.

Lily nodded, washed her hands, and pulled the door open. In front of her stood a tall, thin boy
with straight dark hair, swaying as he clutched his stomach. He looked familiar; he was one
of the new Slytherin prefects, wasn't he? She'd never spoken to him. During meetings, he
always kept to himself, watching the other prefects with wary eyes.

The boy took an unsteady step forward, and Lily caught him. "Careful," she said. "Come on,
I'll help you to a bed... that's it, easy now…" She kept her hand on his back as he staggered
towards the nearest cot and collapsed onto the mattress.

Lily pulled the curtains closed and drew her wand. "I'm Lily Evans, Madam Pomfrey's
apprentice," she said. "I've seen you in prefect meetings — remind me of your name?"

He glanced at her, his grey eyes bright with fever. "Regulus Black."

Lily nearly dropped her wand. Well, that explained a lot. He didn't look familiar because he
was a prefect. He looked familiar because he was Sirius' younger brother.

"Oh," said Lily, feeling stupid. "Of course." She gripped her wand more tightly. "I need to
examine you. Do you mind?"

Regulus shifted in the cot, looking away from her. He was silent for so long that she began to
feel deeply embarrassed for even asking. He was a Black, one of the pure-blooded families
that made up the Sacred Twenty-Eight. From what little she'd heard from Sirius, his relatives
were all nasty pieces of work. Regulus would have recognised her blood status from her last
name; he probably didn't want a Muggle-born touching him.

Finally, Regulus responded. He still wouldn't look at her. "Not… is Madam Pomfrey not…
Does it have to be you?"

Lily's heart sank. "Madam Pomfrey in the middle of a complex Healing. I'm sure she'll
examine you as soon as she can."

Regulus couldn't seem to get comfortable in the cot. He was probably in a considerable
amount of pain, then. "How long… do you think…?"

"It's hard to say," said Lily. She hoped her voice sounded brisk and unaffected by his
rejection. "Could be minutes, or a half hour. But if you're fine with waiting…"
Regulus took a moment to process this information. He seemed to be weighing the pain he
was in against the indignity of being cared for by a Muggle-born. Finally, he grimaced. "You
can… it's fine. Examine me."

Lily drew in a deep breath before responding. Sirius hadn't been wrong about his family
being prejudiced. Regulus was clearly quite ill, but her pity for him was fading by the second.
"Alright," she said. She'd start with the most obvious problem. "Are you having any pain?"

"Y-yes." Regulus' teeth were chattering.

"Where?"

"Stomach."

Lily hesitated. "Do you mind if I press on your stomach? It's to locate the pain."

Regulus' eyes met hers. He seemed as apprehensive as she was. "That's… fine." He rolled
onto his back. As soon as she placed a hand on his midsection, he gasped.

"Sorry, sorry," said Lily hurriedly. She pressed down as gently as she could. "Do you know
what happened? Was it something you ate, or…?"

"Curse," said Regulus. "It left… a mark." He gestured towards his abdomen.

Lily's breath caught, but she tried to remain calm. Curses that made you this ill were usually
deadly. "Can I have a look?"

Regulus looked like he wanted to refuse, but he reached towards the collar of his robes. His
hands were trembling so badly that he couldn't even undo the first set of buttons.

It was painful to watch. "Would you like my help?" asked Lily.

Regulus' hands stilled. After a moment, he nodded.

Lily carefully undid the buttons of his robes, down to his abdomen. There, directly above his
navel, was what appeared to be a burn mark. She realised with a shudder that the wound was
moving.

"Erm," she said. Curses were so far out of her league that she had no idea where to start.
"When did —"

Regulus began to retch loudly. Lily jumped back as vomit splattered the cot and the floor.

"Let me just, erm, get Madam Pomfrey," she said, Vanishing the sick with a wave of her
wand. "I'll be back, alright?"

Regulus sank back into the cot. He closed his eyes and gave a short nod.

Madam Pomfrey was still working on Davey Gudgeon, though he appeared to have
reacquired human thumbs. "I'm sorry to interrupt," said Lily, placing a hand on Madam
Pomfrey's shoulder, "but Regulus Black just came in, and he — he's been cursed. He doesn't
look good, and I — I don't know what to do…"

Madam Pomfrey nodded and stood up. "Sit tight, Gudgeon," she said firmly. "I'll be back
before you can say 'cutlery.' And no touching your face under any circumstances. Am I
clear?"

"Why can't he touch his face?" asked Lily as she followed Madam Pomfrey to Regulus' cot.

"He's still got knives for fingers, the idiot," said Madam Pomfrey, drawing back the curtain
around Regulus' cot. "Can't risk him putting an eye out, I'm not getting a new shipment of
eyeballs till next week."

Madam Pomfrey took one look at Regulus' pale, shaking form and immediately began tracing
complex wand movements above his bed. "When did this happen?" she asked Regulus.

"Saturday."

For an instant, Madam Pomfrey looked shocked, which scared Lily more than anything she'd
seen so far; Madam Pomfrey never lost her professional demeanour. "And you waited four
days before coming in? Foolish boy. Do you have a death wish?"

Regulus' breaths were short and shallow. "No. I thought… it might burn itself out. Some
curses do."

"While other fester and kill," replied Madam Pomfrey. "Foolish, foolish boy." She passed her
wand over the charred mark on Regulus' stomach, which began to smoke. Lily coughed as a
very foul smell filled the air.

"Not pleasant, is it?" asked Madam Pomfrey, who seemed unaffected by the stench. "Dark
Magic will do that. I suggest a Bubblehead Charm."

Lily complied, and Madam Pomfrey turned back towards Regulus. "This is going to hurt,"
she said. "I suggest sleeping through it."

Regulus nodded. His teeth were still chattering. Madam Pomfrey passed her wand over
Regulus' face, and at once his eyes closed. His angular features relaxed, and the furrow
between his brows faded.

Madam Pomfrey began to mutter in a language that sounded guttural. It was nothing like the
other Healing Spells Lily had been exposed to, which sounded like songs. This was
something entirely different. After a moment, the growl of another, deeper voice filled the air
around them, and Lily's heart skipped a beat. The wound was talking back.

Thick black smoke began to pour out of the charred area of Regulus' stomach. "Leeches,"
said Madam Pomfrey, startling Lily. "Bring me a jar of leeches. Medicine cabinet, central
shelf, bottom left."

It took Lily less than a minute to locate the jar. "Place one on the wound," said Madam
Pomfrey. As soon as Lily placed the leech on Regulus' blackened stomach, it latched onto his
skin. Lily felt a bit queasy as the leech began to swell, growing rounder and rounder.

Madam Pomfrey Vanished the leech right as it was about to burst. "Next." Lily carefully
placed another leech where the first had been. She wasn't sure if she was imagining things,
but the wound looked like it had gone from pitch black to a dark, dark grey.

In the end, it took more than twenty leeches to suck out the entirety of the curse. The
scorched wound grew lighter and lighter until it had faded completely. Countless tiny bite
marks were scattered across Regulus' abdomen, slowly oozing black bile.

"Would you like to try to heal the cuts?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Erm, if you're certain," said Lily, drawing her wand. "I mean curses, they scar easily. I
wouldn't want to…" She trailed off. She'd only healed minor scrapes before. What would
Regulus say if a Muggle-born left him permanently scarred?

"The curse has been removed," said Madam Pomfrey firmly. "What's left is well within your
capabilities. When you have finished, you may wake him. In the meantime, I'll see to Davey."

Lily nodded, and Madam Pomfrey disappeared behind the curtains. Lily took a deep breath
and pointed her wand at the bite marks. The Blacks would have her head if she mutilated one
of their heirs. "Carnes restituit," she said softly, reciting the opening words to the Vulnera
sanentur. She moved her wand in small, precise circles while she cast the spell. To her
satisfaction, the cuts slowly closed, leaving only tiny, silver lines.

Lily let out a sigh of relief and pointed her wand at Regulus' face. "Rennervate."

Regulus' eyelids fluttered open, and he focused blearily on her face. "What…" he said,
blinking. "You…"

"You're in the hospital wing," said Lily. Sometimes patients were disoriented upon waking.
"Madam Pomfrey put you to sleep so that we could remove a curse. I'm her apprentice, Lily
Evans."

Regulus' eyes widened in recognition. He looked down at his stomach, which bore no trace of
the scorched mark.

"The scars should fade in a week or so," said Lily, flushing a little. "Madam Pomfrey could
have closed the cuts better than I, but she had to tend to… some cutlery..."

Regulus' grey eyes met hers. "Thank you."

"I was glad to help."

"I didn't make it easy, did I?" said Regulus. "You're a good witch."

Lily's cheeks were burning. He doesn't mean it, she told herself. Patients tended to be
emotionally labile after waking up.

"Honestly?" she said. "I was half expecting you to refuse to let me even touch you."
Regulus' thin lips pressed together. It was almost a smile. "To tell you the truth, so was I."

They looked at each other for a moment. Lily broke the silence first. "Who did this, anyway?
Someone in your House?"

"Someone in your House," said Regulus. "And I deserved it."

"Nobody deserves a curse like that."

Regulus looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "There are people out there
who absolutely deserve to be cursed. Bad people. Surely you, with your… heritage... would
know that."

"Oh." She knew what he was implying. Death Eaters. "But you — you're not one of those
people." At least, she didn't think so. Regulus was prejudiced, of course, but he was no Death
Eater. "Right?"

Regulus looked away, saying nothing. After a moment, he tried to sit up, but Lily put a hand
on his shoulder. "I think Madam Pomfrey wants you to spend the night. Just in case."

"Smart witch," said Regulus. "Both of you."

Heat began to rise up Lily's neck again. "I — er — if you're alright, I should probably go…
See if Madam Pomfrey needs help…"

Regulus nodded, settling back down into the cot and closing his eyes. "I owe you, Lily."

Lily tried not to seem startled at the use of her first name. He was still waking up, after all.
"Get some rest, Regulus."

At breakfast on Friday, Sirius was competing with James to see who could fit the most
sausages in their mouths when an eagle owl soared low over the Gryffindor table and
dropped a letter into Sirius' porridge.

James said something unintelligible around a mouthful of sausage and reached for the letter,
but Sirius grabbed it first. He flipped the envelope over, noticed the return address, and
promptly began to choke. Peter pounded Sirius on the back, but that only made the problem
worse.

Remus drew his wand, looking mildly amused. "Waddiwasi."

A large piece of half-eaten sausage zoomed out of Sirius' mouth and splattered against the
wall at the far end of the Great Hall.

Sirius massaged his throat. "Thanks," he said weakly.

"'Oo's the letter from, then?" asked James, swallowing loudly.

"Er," said Sirius. James could be annoyingly perceptive when he wanted to be. Sirius turned
the envelope face-down and slid it into his bag. "No one important. Just junk mail."

"Oh, sure," said Peter. "I know my junk mail is usually delivered via eagle owl."

Sirius knocked him in the back of the head, and Peter yelped. "Drop it, alright?" said Sirius.
"It's nothing. Really."

Across the table, James frowned. "Didn't look like nothing."

Sirius threw up his arms, accidentally upending the plate of sausages. "What is this, the
Spanish Inquisition?"

"Nice Muggle history reference," said Remus approvingly. "You'll have that Muggle Studies
N.E.W.T. in no time if you keep it up."

"Don't change the subject, Moony," said James. "Sirius. What's the deal with the letter?"

Sirius' stomach turned. Those sausages were not sitting well. "Fine. It's addressed from
Grimmauld Place, so I'm assuming my wonderful parents wrote it, alright? Does that satisfy
your curiosity?"

"Oh," said James. Peter let out a low whistle. "Shit. I'm sorry, mate, I didn't think —"

Of course you didn't. Sirius bit back the retort. The Potters always sent James letters
containing money or sweets. It must be nice. "No worries," he said, trying to sound casual.
"It's not like I'm going to read the bloody thing."

"We could burn it, if you like," said Peter. "The Shrieking Shack's got a fireplace…"

Sirius forced himself to smile. "Sounds great, Pete. I'd suggest we go now, but…" He
checked his watch. "I've got detention with Minnie in about five minutes."

Peter's brow furrowed. "You haven't said anything about —"

"Sure I did," said Sirius, hopping up from the table. "Can't trust that shoddy memory of
yours, Wormy. Keep it up and you're getting a Remembrall for Christmas."

Sirius left the castle nearly at a sprint. It took several laps around Hagrid's hut as Padfoot
before he calmed down enough to sit, in human form, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He
glanced at his bag, which he'd flung on the ground a few feet away. A creamy corner of an
envelope peeked out from the mouth of the bag.

Sirius wasn't sure why the thought of reading the letter was so unpleasant. His parents had
been Obliviated, hadn't they? They probably weren't thrilled he'd left Grimmauld Place
during the summer holidays, but whatever was in the letter couldn't possibly be that bad.

Sirius decided not to risk it. He drew his wand. "Incendio."

His bag caught fire. Sirius watched it for a moment, satisfied, before he realised that their
latest copy of the Hogwarts map was inside. He swore loudly and jumped to his feet, pointing
his wand at the bag. "Emorius lucerna."

The fire snuffed out instantly, as if he had set a candle extinguisher over it. Sirius knelt and
began to rummage through the scorched bag, wincing; its contents were still very hot. At last,
he pulled out the map, which had been burnt beyond recognition.

Sirius said something very foul indeed. Flakes of ash fell through his fingers as he crumpled
the remains of the map into a ball and chucked it into the Forbidden Forest.

The bright side, he decided on the way back to the castle, was that if the map hadn't survived
the fire, there was no way his parent's letter had.

"Bad news," he said, sliding in beside James during Transfiguration. "The latest version of
the map was, er, ruined during my detention."

James ran his hands through his hair in frustration, making it stick up in all directions.
"Sirius, what the —? What happened?"

"Erm," said Sirius, "would you believe me if I said my detention involved fire?"

"Yes," said Peter.

"No," said James and Remus simultaneously.

"Great," said Sirius, "because that's definitely not what happened —" He broke off as
Professor McGonagall swept into the room, looking as austere as ever.

"Morning, Professor," said James brightly, stowing his bag under his chair. "Just wondering,
did Sirius behave during his detention this morning?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed behind her spectacles. "Are you Confunded, Potter?
Though I have had the honour of overseeing a tremendous amount of detentions served by
Mr Black, he had no such detention today. At least not as of this lesson."

"Huh," said James, furrowing his brow in an exaggerated show of confusion. "Weird. Well,
thanks, Professor. I'll be getting on with my Conjuring now."

"That face makes you look constipated," Sirius told him. "You're a prat, you know that?"

James flourished his wand. "Ho hum, can't hear you… Elicio Artibus… Oh, bother, that
wasn't quite right..." Instead of Conjuring a matchstick, a small black burn mark had
appeared in the table.

Sirius smirked. Conjuring was the only bit of Transfiguration that gave James trouble.
"Elicio," said Sirius, and an entire matchbox appeared in front of him.

"Well done, Black," said Professor McGonagall, approaching their table. James hurriedly
dropped the rude hand gesture he'd been making at Sirius.
"Thanks," said Sirius, winking broadly at James. "I've actually got a question, Professor. I
was wondering… do Animagi get urges?" Beside him, James groaned, but Sirius ignored
him.

"Urges?" repeated Professor McGonagall. "I'm not sure what you mean, Black."

"You know," said Sirius. "When you turn into a cat, do you feel compelled to do things that
cats do? Hunting mice, for example. Have you ever had a mouse craving?"

"I'm not sure how this is relevant to the task at hand," said Professor McGonagall with a
pointed look at Sirius' matchbox.

Sirius shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm supremely interested in all aspects of
Transfiguration. Comes with being a N.E.W.T. level student, you know…"

Professor McGonagall peered down her spectacles at him. Sirius tried to look innocent.

"I can't say I've ever felt compelled to consume rodents," she responded at last. "Does that
answer your question?"

"Ha!" said James triumphantly once Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "I told you! If
McGonagall doesn't get urges then neither do you. You owe me seven Galleons for that map
you ate last week."

Sirius retaliated by Vanishing the single matchstick James had managed to Conjure.
Unfortunately, that actually did earn him detention with McGonagall.

After dinner that evening, Sirius gave his friends the slip and headed towards the statue of
Cornelia the Unbalanced on the second floor. Under the statue was a secret passage which led
to a grotto by the lake. It had been raining all afternoon, and mist rose from the lake as Sirius
sat on a large, mossy rock that jutted out over the water.

He glanced at his bag, considering chucking it in the lake. Finally, after a moment's
hesitation, he reached inside and pulled out the envelope. Unlike the rest of his belongings, it
didn't look singed at all.

Sirius frowned and reached for his wand. "Incendio."

The letter didn't burn. Flames licked harmlessly around the edges of the envelope. Sirius
sighed deeply and put out the fire with a wave of his wand. His parents knew him too well.
He shifted his weight, becoming Padfoot, and nosed the envelope into the lake. That was
better; things didn't hurt so much as Padfoot. He curled up on the rock, his head on his paws,
and watched the letter float away.

James found him a long time after sunset. He sat cross-legged beside Padfoot and ruffled his
fur. The dog gave him a doleful look.

"That bad, eh?" asked James. "Where's the letter, then?"

Padfoot shifted his gaze towards the lake.

"Ah," said James. He raised his wand. "Accio." There was a ripple in the lake, and an
envelope flew into his hands, dripping water. James flipped it over and let out a low whistle.
"They even made it Impermeable, didn't they? What a bunch of bloody psychopaths." He
rested a hand on the dog's back. "Mind if I read it? You don't think it's cursed, do you?"

Padfoot gave a doggy shrug, and James slit open the envelope. Padfoot could see the words
written on the parchment inside, but they didn't make much sense to him. It was like reading
Greek upside-down — he could do it, but it would take a while. He preferred not to read the
letter anyway.

James' expression darkened as he scanned the parchment. "What're they playing at?" he said
finally, tossing the letter aside. "I mean, they can't actually think —"

The dog sat up and became Sirius. He made a face and pulled his knees up to his chest. Being
human was terrible sometimes. At least as Padfoot he hadn't known why he felt so miserable.
"What's it say?"

"It's a heap of rubbish."

"Prongs. What's it say?"

Reluctantly, James reached for the letter. "Alright, but you promise you won't let it get to
you?"

"Sure."

James looked like he wanted to respond, but he unfolded the parchment. "It's from your
mum. Basically, it says that they love you and forgive you for running away from home — as
long as you promise to do what they say from now on."

"That doesn't make sense," says Sirius. "I mean, the bit about me doing whatever they say
does, they've wanted that since forever. But does she really say she loves me?"

"More or less," said James. "This bit here, for example. 'Our Lord seeks to target Hogwarts,
and with your allegiance in question we cannot guarantee your safety. I cannot sleep for
worry over you, and your father is unable to concentrate on his work. Please request a
transfer into Slytherin; it would set my heart at ease, and we would welcome you home with
open arms for Christmas. Think of it as a fresh start — for your future, for our family. I must
see you home for Christmas, my son, my beloved firstborn.'"

Sirius wrapped his arms around his knees and was silent for a minute. Somehow, even when
his mother was being nice she still upset him. "Laying it on a bit thick, isn't she?"

"Not her usual tactics," agreed James. "You know the old saying, though — it's easier to
catch pixies with honey than with vinegar."

"She can't actually think I'd be stupid enough to fall for that," said Sirius. "I'm not about to
run back to her just because she called me her beloved firstborn."

"You wouldn't think, but there's no telling with your family."

Sirius' eyes were fixed on the lake. "D'you think it's true?" he asked finally. "What she's
saying about What's-His-Name targeting Hogwarts?"

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised," said James. "I'm sure he'd love to get into the castle, it'd be
terrible for morale. But that doesn't mean your hag of a mum is telling the truth. She'd say
anything to manipulate you."

Sirius said nothing, but leaned over and rested his head on James' shoulder. "I'm not going to
ask Dumbledore to put me in Slytherin."

"Are you sure?" said James. "Sounds like you'll miss out on your mum's fantastic Christmas
pies if you stay in Gryffindor. Didn't she put troll meat in them last year?"

Sirius snorted. "That was Reg's theory. Personally, I think it was centaur. I found a hoof."

James swore. "Insane old hag." He put an arm around Sirius. "Want me to Vanish this bloody
letter?"

"Good luck," said Sirius. "It's got protective charms on it. Can't be Vanished. Can't be burnt
or ripped, either."

"I see," said James. "There's only one thing for it, then." He pulled out his wand,
Transfigured the ball of parchment into a jelly bean, and swallowed it.

Sirius stared at James. "You are mental."

James shrugged, looking quite pleased with himself. "There're loopholes everywhere, mate.
Anyway, I've got a bottle of Gillywater to wash that down with in the dormitory. You in?"

Regulus went to the hospital wing on Wednesday at Severus' urging, and he didn't reappear
for more than a week. At dinner the following Thursday, Severus spotted Regulus at the far
end of the Slytherin table, looking noticeably thinner and picking at his roast beef.

Severus slid next to Regulus on the bench. "How are you feeling?"

Regulus examined his plate for a moment before turning towards Severus. "Fine. Couldn't
keep down any food for about a week. But I'm not dead, so…"

"Well, if you're looking for pity, you won't find it here," said Severus. "I told you to go to
Pomfrey sooner. Curses like that fester."

Regulus turned back to his roast beef. "You have quite the comforting presence. Has anyone
ever told you?"
Severus ignored the jab. "You might be interested to know that Mulciber's got detention every
weekend from now until the end of the month. Full days, too — he has to sort Filch's filing
cabinets."

Regulus arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Dearborn went to McGonagall?"

"Looks that way."

Regulus took a deliberate bite of roast beef, chewing very slowly. Finally, he swallowed and
said, "Why was Mulciber the only one punished?"

"Dearborn didn't have proof about anyone else," said Severus. "Avery told McGonagall he
and Rosier were attempting to stop the duel. 'As a prefect,' he said, you know that prattish
voice he puts on, utterly insufferable. Dearborn didn't even bring up Wilkes' name — I don't
think she recognised him under his disguise. And I was Disillusioned, of course."

"I should have been clearer," said Regulus. "Why was I not punished?"

"Well," said Severus bitingly, "your pathetic attempt at Disarming her aside, you didn't
actually do anything."

Regulus stared at him. "I lured Sally to Mulciber," he said, lowering his voice. "She knows I
did."

"If McGonagall thought you had any hand in the attack, I'm sure you would be in detention
alongside Mulciber. As it stands, all you did was report a duel to the Head Girl and cast a
Disarming Charm that may have been intended for someone else."

"Why did she curse me, then? If she thought I was on her side?"

Severus, utterly bored with Regulus' anxieties, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Maybe she
got jumpy and overreacted. They say her father sees assassins everywhere. His outlook might
have rubbed off on her."

"I doubt that," said Regulus. "She wouldn't —"

"— Or maybe she feels guilty for having cursed you and doesn't want McGonagall to find out
she used Dark Magic," continued Severus, speaking over him. "Using a curse like that doesn't
paint the Head Girl in a very flattering light, does it?"

"I don't know. She doesn't seem —"

"Look," said Severus bluntly. "If you are truly concerned about why she didn't report you,
then I suggest you ask her what, exactly, she was thinking."

Regulus blanched and pushed his plate away. "I think the events of that weekend speak for
themselves. It was a mistake to join your… group."

Severus decided that Regulus deserved more than just an eye-roll. "Too soft for the Dark
Lord, are you?" he said, sneering. "I wonder what Orion and Walburga will have to say when
they find out their second son is just as much a disappointment as the first. Think they'll
bother trying for a third?"

Regulus looked quite queasy now. "That won't be necessary. I'll let them know —"

"No, don't trouble yourself," said Severus, taking a quill and parchment out of his bag. "I'll
owl Bella for you. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to inform your parents that Following
just isn't for you."

Regulus' grey eyes narrowed. "That's blackmail," he said, his voice rising. "You don't
honestly think you can force me —"

"Oh, spare me," Severus snapped. "You get hit by one curse and suddenly what your parents
require of you is too dangerous —"

"WELL, I'M NOT THE GRYFFINDOR OF THE FAMILY, AM I?!" shouted Regulus. His
plate shattered, sending bits of roast beef everywhere.

The table grew quiet. Severus looked around; most of the Slytherin table was watching them
with mild interest. Across the Great Hall, Sirius Black had frozen with his fork halfway to his
mouth.

"Wonderful," said Severus sarcastically as Sirius got up from his table and began to stride
towards them. "Really excellent, Regulus, some temper your family's got —"

"What's going on here?" asked Sirius, sounding like he was trying to be casual and failing
miserably at it. "Are you upsetting my brother, Snape?"

"I can handle this," said Regulus through gritted teeth. "Go back to your table, Sirius —"

"No, I don't think I will," said Sirius loudly. "Why don't you and I take a stroll, little brother?"

Regulus said nothing. After a moment, he got up slowly from the table, acting for all the
world as if Severus wasn't there. Severus watched them walk away, wishing that they weren't
surrounded by hundreds of witnesses. He'd like nothing better than to curse both of them.
Regulus Black was just as much an idiot as his brother, it seemed.

Before going to bed, Severus penned a brief letter to Bella, sending it via a shabby-looking
school owl. At breakfast the following morning, a handsome eagle owl landed directly on
Regulus' toast. In its beak was a dark red envelope which appeared to be smoking slightly.

Regulus stared at the letter as the edges of the envelope blackened and curled. Avery elbowed
him hard in the ribs, which seemed to bring Regulus to his senses. He reached for the letter,
his expression blank, and slit it open.

Severus' glass of pumpkin juice began to shake as the voice of Walburga Black reverberated
throughout the Great Hall.

"— SQUANDERING THE OPPORTUNITY YOUR COUSIN HAS SET BEFORE YOU, I
HAVE NEVER BEEN SO ASHAMED — I SEE NOW WE HAVE RAISED A SPOILED
BRAT WHO THINKS HE CAN DO AS HE PLEASES, TAKING THE FAMILY
COMPLETELY FOR GRANTED — DISGRACING THE HOUSE OF OUR FOREBEARS
— EVEN YOUR BROTHER HAS A SPINE, BUT THAT FAMILY TRAIT THAT SEEMS
TO HAVE PASSED YOU BY COMPLETELY —"

At the five minute mark, Severus tuned the Howler out, as it had become somewhat
repetitive. Regulus continued to stare at the shrieking letter with the same blank expression.
As Severus ate his porridge, he felt a rare moment of gratitude for his own parents, who had
never been involved enough in his life to care if he made anything of himself.

The Howler finally spluttered itself into ashes, and Severus chanced a glance at the
Gryffindor table. To his surprise, Sirius' gaze was not fixed on Regulus, but on an expensive-
looking envelope he was holding in his hands.

That evening, Severus arrived in Dungeon Thirteen half an hour before Mulciber had
required them to meet. Regulus was already there; he stood in front of the fireplace, his hands
clasped behind his back as he stared at the crackling flames.

"So?" asked Severus.

The glow from the fire threw Regulus' angled features into sharp relief. His cheekbones
looked especially sunken after his bout with the curse. "You're looking at your newest Intent."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Severus. "It's the right choice." He moved towards the fireplace
until they were standing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. "Why are you so reluctant?" he asked at
last.

Regulus sighed. "I just don't see why Intenting is necessary. I'm not — I'm not like you, or
the others."

Well, that much was obvious. But Severus was supposed to recruit Regulus, and he didn't
think mocking him would help. "You're not like us in what way?"

"You know," said Regulus. "I just want to be — normal, I guess. I'll donate money to the
Dark Lord when I'm older, if he wants. But I don't want to — to fight, or to curse other
people. I don't see why I can't support the cause in a different way."

"In other words, you want to waffle," said Severus. "You want to be a supporter without
actually lending any support to the cause."

Regulus' mouth tightened. "You make me sound like a coward."

Severus didn't respond. He wasn't interested in reassuring Regulus with falsehoods.

After a minute, Regulus spoke again. "There're other people in Slytherin who keep their
heads down. They don't take sides, and nobody bothers them. Why can't I be like that?"

"You're a Black," said Severus. "Obviously."

"It's not obvious to me."

"Let me spell it out for you, then," said Severus. "As the heir to the Blacks, you have almost
unfathomable access to several things. Money. Influence. Power. The other Slytherins do
not."

"My brother is the heir," mumbled Regulus, but he didn't argue the point.

"You know," said Severus, figuring he might as well have a bit of pity on Regulus, "I tried to
avoid taking sides last year. It turned out… poorly."

Regulus glanced at him. "I heard about that."

"I believe the entire Wizarding World will have to choose a side, and soon," said Severus.
"That's why it's better to do it now. And better to choose our side."

Regulus was looking at him inquisitively. "Do you really think the Dark Lord will win?"

"I do," said Severus, slightly surprised to find that it was the truth. "I grew up with Muggles.
I've seen what they are capable of. The Dark Lord has the right idea — we ought to subjugate
them, for the good of all society. Besides, it's obvious that the side that uses Dark Magic will
be the one that prevails."

Regulus' expression was inscrutable as he watched the flames flickering in the hearth. A
natural-born Occlumens, thought Severus.

"If I become a Follower," said Regulus, "does that make me evil? Even if I don't do bad
things?"

"Stop being dramatic," said Severus. "Evil doesn't have a side. Isn't it evil that your brother
hexes Slytherins whenever he gets the opportunity? Isn't it evil that we've never had a
Muggle-born Minister for Magic? When my father takes a belt to my mother, which one of
them is doing evil, the Muggle or the witch? And who will bring her justice?"

Regulus was silent for a long time.

"You and I are pawns," said Severus. "The side we choose doesn't matter. We simply have to
survive as best we can."

At last, Regulus spoke. "I hope you're right."

"I am," said Severus. "You'll see."

 The Cartography Club
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Gryffindor's Quidditch tryouts took place on Saturday morning and were a formality, as far as
James was concerned. He only needed to fill a single Chaser position, since Hana Suzuki had
graduated the previous year. The rest of the team was strong enough that James doubted he'd
find anyone better during tryouts. In the end, he ended up simply moving Otis Podmore from
Beater to Chaser, allowing Sirius to take up the now-vacant Beater position.

"Cheers, mate," said Sirius in the changing room afterwards. "Commentating was fun and
everything, but I'm looking forward to being back on the pitch where I belong."

Marlene McKinnon, Gryffindor's other Beater, held up her hand for a high-five. "The Dream
Team is back!"

"Right, bring it in," said James, motioning for the team to gather round. "Practices will be
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, starting next week —"

Sirius let out a loud groan. James raised an eyebrow. "Forgotten what discipline feels like, eh,
Black?"

"I'm disciplined," said Sirius defensively. "Just not at six in the morning. I need my beauty
sleep."

"Right," asked James, "and I need the Quidditch Cup to stay in McGonagall's office where it
belongs."

"Hear, hear," said Marlene. Parvana caught James' eye and raised an imaginary toast.

James grinned at them. "Glad we're all on the same page. I'll see you lot on Monday so we
can make my dream a reality."

Parvana caught up to James as he was leaving the pitch. "Did you catch the Magpies' match
against Wimbledon this summer?"

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," said James. "My dad got us box tickets."

Parvana's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "He did not."

"Perks of consulting with the Ministry."

"I'm so jealous," said Parvana. "You saw Fabius Watkins' Dionysus Dive in person, then?"

"Yeah," he said. "Incredible flying. I was gonna talk to you about it, actually. I think you
could pull it off during our match with Slytherin, if we played our cards right…"
"Me, too," said Parvana. "Great minds think alike, I suppose." She reached up to undo her
braid.

James watched her brush out her hair with her fingers. It occurred to him for the first time
that Parvana was a girl. A girl who was a talented Quidditch player. "Erm," he said, "d'you
have any plans for today? Homework, or something?"

Parvana shook her head. "I just need to finish Flitwick's essay on nonverbal Banishing Spells.
What did you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise," said James. "Meet me on top of the Astronomy tower around four. And bring
your broom."

That afternoon, Parvana arrived at the Astronomy tower only a couple of minutes after James
did. She carried her Cleansweep Five over her shoulder. "What're we doing?" she asked.
"Flying to the moon?"

James laughed. "Hardly. I think Dumbledore's office has a secret entrance, and I'm going to
find it. You in?"

"Isn't it against the rules to go flying about the castle, peering into windows?" asked Parvana,
but she swung a leg over her broomstick.

"Scared of a little detention, are you?"

Parvana pulled up on the handle of her broom in response and disappeared over the parapet.
James grinned and followed her. It took them no time at all to circle around to the
Headmaster's tower.

"What makes you think Dumbledore's office has got a secret entrance?" asked Parvana,
scanning the tower's stonework.

"Well, he likes to travel to the Ministry by broom, doesn't he?" said James. "You think he'd
leave via the Astronomy tower, in that case — it's the tallest tower at Hogwarts. But nobody's
ever seen him up there. In fact, nobody even knows what sort of broom he rides."

"I bet it's a Tinderblast," said Parvana, and James snorted. Tinderblasts were famous for their
quirks and prone to bursting into flames at random intervals.

"Likely," said James, tugging downwards on his broomstick. "I think that's the window to
Dumbledore's office, there, look…"

As they hovered outside the window, they pressed their faces to the glass, peering inside. The
office appeared to be empty; Fawkes was perched in a corner, head tucked under a wing.

"Excellent, he's out," said James. "Now put those fantastic Seeker eyes of yours to good work
and help me find the secret entrance."

Parvana's cheeks flushed slightly, but she nodded, circling the tower. James flew to the top of
the tower and examined the row of gargoyles that lined the parapet. He cast anti-concealment
charms on the statues, but couldn't detect any traces of hidden magic.

After nearly half an hour, Parvana gave a triumphant shout. James flew down to meet her
where she was hovering outside Dumbledore's office. "Did you figure out the secret
entrance?"

"Not quite," said Parvana happily. "But I think we'll find out soon. Look…" She gestured
towards the horizon. James squinted, trying to avoid the glare from the setting sun. He could
just make out a tiny speck far in the distance. It was so small it could have been a smudge on
his glasses.

"Think that's him?" asked James.

"I'm certain of it," said Parvana. "He's riding a Tinderblast, can't you see?"

James glanced back toward the speck. It was so far off it seemed impossible to glean the
broomstick type. "Whatever you say, Eagle Eyes."

Parvana blushed. She looked away from James quickly, biting her lip. "We should probably
hide."

"Let's go up behind the gargoyles," said James. "We'll still have a good view of his office
from there."

As they crouched behind the gargoyles, James pulled out what looked like a silvery
handkerchief from his pocket and gave it a shake. Immediately, the Invisibility Cloak grew in
size until it was large enough for James to drape around himself and Parvana.

Parvana looked astonished. "You've got an Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yeah, it's a family heirloom," said James. "Comes in bloody handy, I'll tell you that. Though
this one's a bit finicky." It had taken him the better part of a week and several trips to the
library before he had managed to shrink the Cloak to the size of a handkerchief, and he still
didn't know why it couldn't be Summoned.

Parvana hummed thoughtfully. She pulled the edge of the Cloak over her broom, which lay
on the ground beside her. "That explains a lot, actually."

James winked at her and looked out over the parapet. The figure was coming into view now.
"You were right, it is Dumbledore! He's almost here."

They watched, tense with anticipation, as Dumbledore flew closer and closer. "This is it,"
whispered James. "Any minute now, and we'll know…"

Dumbledore raised his wand as he approached the tower. Parvana squeezed James' arm.
Dumbledore muttered something under his breath — the password to the secret entrance?

As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, the window to the Headmaster's office flung open
with a rattle. Dumbledore flew inside. The window closed behind him, latching itself shut.
James and Parvana looked at each other.

"Well," said Parvana, "I suppose the window was the most obvious option for a secret exit."

James laughed incredulously, running his hands through his hair. "I'm an idiot. I can't believe
I didn't think of that."

"You're not an idiot," said Parvana. "A bit overly imaginative, maybe…"

James raised his eyebrows. "You're too nice to me. You know how badly my mates would be
taking the mickey right now?" He pulled out the latest version of the map from his robes and
unfolded it. "Stilus," he murmured, and his wand began to drip with ink.

Parvana leaned in towards the parchment until their heads were nearly touching. "You're
making a map of Hogwarts?"

"Something like that," said James proudly. "You're looking at the Head of the Hogwarts
Cartography Club."

"I didn't realise Hogwarts had a Cartography Club."

"Oh, it's been around forever," said James. "Ask Binns, he's our sponsor."

"Can I join?" asked Parvana hopefully.

"Er," said James. "Membership's full, unfortunately." There was no way Sirius would agree to
let Parvana help with the map. It was a shame — she really did have keen eyes.

He touched the tip of his wand to the upper left-hand corner of the parchment. The words 'No
secret flying entrance, don't bother' appeared in an untidy scrawl next to Dumbledore's office.

"You know," said Parvana, "Hogwarts: A History has a map…"

"We've already tried that," said James. "Bought out Tomes and Scrolls' entire stock last
Hogsmeade weekend. Unfortunately, none of the copies survived contact with my mates."

Parvana whistled. "Wow."

"Yeah," said James. "So I'm trying a new tactic. Starting the map from scratch. I even made
the parchment." He'd had a bit of inspiration from Walburga Black's indestructible letter, not
that he'd ever admit it to Sirius.

Parvana ran her fingers over the creamy parchment. "Amazing," she said softly. "You're
really talented."

"So they tell me," said James. He tried to sound effortlessly breezy, but the joke fell flat.

Parvana looked up at him. She was so close he could hear her breathing, light and quick. It
occurred to James that they were quite well-hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. He suddenly
felt very shy.
"Erm," he said, "should we head back? I've, er, got a thing — N.E.W.T.s, you know —"

Parvana's face fell ever so slightly, but she nodded and stood, brushing off the Invisibility
Cloak.

James spent the entire walk back to Gryffindor Tower kicking himself.

On Sunday, Lily woke early, hoping to finish her Potions essay on Hiccoughing Solutions
before the prefect meeting at noon. Severus had gotten a higher mark than her on their last
assignment — he'd left his parchment in plain sight — and she was determined not to let that
happen again.

The clock above the mantle in the Gryffindor common room struck twelve and began to
chime. Lily looked up from her essay and swore; she'd lost track of the time. A group of
nearby first years giggled.

Lily frowned at them. "Two points from Gryffindor." The first years' smiles vanished,
replaced by looks of horror.

Lily left the common room and made for the staffroom on the ground floor, feeling somewhat
gratified. She remembered being eleven years old and terrified to lose House points. Potter
and his mates never minded, though, she thought. Even when they were first years, they'd
thought getting in trouble was funny.

Inside the staffroom, Chester Fernsby, the Head Boy, was giving a lecture about enforcing
curfew. He shot her a disappointed look as she took her place next to Remus.

Remus elbowed her gently. "You're late."

"Lost track of time," Lily replied out of the corner of her mouth. "But if Fernsby asks, I'm
having terrible cramps. My time of the month, you know."

Remus smiled wryly. "That's my go-to as well."

Lily let out a quiet laugh, then stopped abruptly. Did he just —

"Sally and I are finishing up next month's patrol schedule," continued Chester Fernsby.
"Please take a look at it and let Sally or myself know if you have any scheduling conflicts."
He indicated the large sheet of parchment lying on the staff table, and the other prefects
surged forward to get a look. Someone jostled Lily and she turned, annoyed.

"Oh," she said when she saw who it was. "Er, hi."

"Hello," said Regulus Black, who looked quite tall and much healthier than the last time she
had seen him. Well, much was a bit of an overstatement. He still looked rather wan, and his
lips were pale. But at least he didn't look like he was dying.

"You look… better," she offered. Heat rose up her neck.

Regulus looked vaguely amused. "It's incredible what Healing can do for a person."

"Madam Pomfrey's a miracle worker."

"I hear she had help," said Regulus. They reached the front of the queue, and Regulus bent
over the schedule, running a finger down it. He made a thoughtful noise. "You're paired with
Lupin and Fortescue this month." His eyes darted towards her. "Pity."

"Is it, now, Regulus?" asked a voice. Sally Dearborn was standing at the head of the staff
table, her arms crossed. Lily shrank a little. Sally may have been shorter than she was, but her
intensity could be scary. She was a bit like Marlene that way.

Regulus straightened at once. What little colour he had drained from his face. "Sally. I —"

"No, go on." Sally's voice was steely. "I'd love to hear more about what's wrong with the
patrol schedule I've spent hours putting together."

"Nothing — nothing's wrong with it," said Regulus. "I just thought, you know, I have friends
in other Houses, and —"

"Don't make me laugh," said Sally. Her eyes flicked from Regulus to Lily. "And you're mad if
you think I'd pair you with a Muggle-born. Looking for someone new for target practice, are
you?"

"That's not — I'm not —" spluttered Regulus. He ran a hand through his hair. "Never mind,
alright?"

"Good answer," said Sally. "The schedule stays as it is, then."

"What was that about?" Lily asked Regulus once they were out of Sally's earshot. "It's a little
early in the year to be on her bad side, don't you think?"

Regulus made a jerking movement that might have been an attempt at a shrug. "It's not… I
don't know. She woke up on the wrong side of the bed, maybe."

His evasiveness reminded her uncomfortably of Severus' half-truths from the year before.
Lily's heart sank. "What did Sally mean by target practice?"

Regulus looked at her, his expression pained. That was all the answer she needed.

"Right," said Lily. "Forget I asked. Say hi to Mulciber for me, will you?"

She walked away before he could respond, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She rejoined
Remus and placed her hand on his arm. "Fancy walking back to the tower with me?"
"I thought you'd never ask," said Remus. He waved good-bye to a pair of Ravenclaw prefects
and they ducked out of the staffroom. "How's your patrol schedule looking, then?" Remus
asked innocently as they climbed the hidden staircase that led to the second floor.

Lily looked at him incredulously. His expression was one of polite interest. "Is that Remus-
speak for 'I saw you and Regulus pissing off Sally Dearborn and am dying to know the
details'?"

Remus smiled. "I didn't realise you were fluent. Though of course there are shades of
meaning that are lost in translation."

"Such as?"

"Well, I didn't realise you and Regulus knew each other, for a start," said Remus, skipping
over the trick step on the staircase.

"We don't, really," said Lily. The climb to the second floor was making her heart pound. "I
met him recently. He came to the hospital wing while I was there for my apprenticeship."

"You know," said Remus, "there are romance novels about patients and Healers. It's a very
popular genre, I've heard."

His tone was mild, but Lily's heart beat even faster. "That's not what happened."

"Of course not," said Remus. "I was just making an observation."

"Well, your observation doesn't apply," said Lily. "Not to mention, Sally said something
about 'target practice', and he went all funny. Like he felt guilty about something. He wouldn't
tell me what she was referring to, but I'm not stupid. I can read between the lines."

Remus' brow creased. "So can I."

"I'm not getting involved with Death Eater rubbish again," said Lily. She felt tears threatening
to well up in her eyes. "I had enough of that last year with… well, you know."

Remus hummed a little. "Do you really think Regulus is falling in with that lot?"

"What else am I supposed to think?"

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Remus muttered the password — "Semper
fortis" — and they crawled in through the portrait hole. A small crowd had gathered near the
bulletin board, where Peter Pettigrew was floating in the air, wearing a set of dress robes.
James and Sirius appeared to be playing Muggle tennis with him, using their wands as
rackets and Peter as the ball.

Lily watched Peter soar from one end of the room to the other, the ruffles on his dress robes
fluttering. "I thought magic couldn't make people fly."

"It can't," said Remus. "At least, not until tonight. Never underestimate Sirius and James
when they're bored."
"And they use this newfound magical discovery to play tennis," said Lily. "Your friends are
idiots. Brilliant, but idiots."

"That's part of their appeal," said Remus. "They make me look quite good in comparison."

Lily snuck a glance at Remus, who appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in following Peter's
trajectory through the air. "Are you going to tell Sirius about Regulus?" she asked. "About
what he might be involved in?"

Remus gave her an affectionate smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, Lily. I'm sure he
already knows."

Sirius was quite pleased to have figured out the magic that made his motorbike fly. Dorcas's
motorbike, he corrected himself guiltily. He still didn't know what had happened to her. He
had a nasty feeling Kreacher had found a loophole in his orders and had harmed her. He tried
not to think about it too much.

He and James spent the following week pushing the limits of what could be charmed to fly.
They started with Peter's dress robes and expanded from there. By Thursday, it took them all
of ten minutes to make every chair in the Potions classroom do slow laps of the dungeon,
hovering five feet off the ground. Professor Slughorn's delight at their cleverness had lasted
nearly half the period but had ultimately been dampened by the realisation that, once
charmed, there was no way to bring the flying objects back to the ground. Slughorn had
subsequently made a halfhearted attempt to punish them by asking that they stay after class to
clean out the supply closet.

"Next Hogsmeade weekend's at the end of November," Peter reminded them for the third
time as he Vanished the cobwebs from a shelf. "I think the Christmas line at Gladrags will be
out, if you lot feel like getting me some new dress robes…"

"There's nothing wrong with your robes, Wormtail," said Sirius. He was sitting cross-legged
on the floor, trying to see how many jars of pond slime he could juggle at once.

"Excuse me," said Peter. "They're flying around our dormitory as we speak."

"First Sluggy, now you," said James. He was hovering ten feet in the air, balancing
precariously on his newly-charmed copy of Advanced Potion-Making. "Nobody recognises
genius around here."

"There are children in Africa who haven't got any robes at all," added Remus, who was
ostensibly supervising them. "How do you think they'd feel to know that in Britain there are
blokes who throw away a perfectly good set of dress robes just because they fly?"
"I hate you all," said Peter. "You're buying me new robes or I'm telling McGonagall who
turned Bertram Aubrey into a hamster."

"I'd like nothing more than to buy you new robes, Pete," said Remus. "Unfortunately, I
haven't got any money."

"Me neither," said Sirius.

"I'm calling your bluff," said Peter. "I'm going to tell McGonagall about Bertram after lunch."

"You can tell Minnie whatever you like," said Sirius. "I happen to have eyewitness proof that
I was reading in the library while poor Bertie was growing whiskers on the third floor."

"You're joking," said Peter. "You were there! I saw you do it!"

"'Fraid not," said Sirius, adding another jar to his juggling routine. "Your eyes are playing
tricks on you again, Pete." The jar slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground, shattering.
Sirius swore loudly and hurled the remaining jars towards James, who dodged them easily.
The textbook he was balancing on barely wobbled.

"Skinny git," said Sirius. "How do you move so fast?"

"Tell it to the Montrose Magpies," said James, preening a little. "You can write my letter of
introduction. Speaking of, I hope you can aim a Bludger better than that when we face
Slytherin."

Sirius' expression darkened. "I'll have no problem breaking a few Death Eater bones. Trust
me. "

"How's Regulus doing, by the way?" asked Remus, as calmly as if he were commenting on
the weather.

"Terrible, I assume," said Sirius, looking around for another jar he could throw. "If last week's
Howler was anything to go by."

"Yeah, that was weird," said James. "I thought you were the problem child."

"So did I," said Sirius. "But they're sending me love letters all of a sudden. It doesn't make
any sense."

"You've gotten more, then?" asked Remus. "Apart from the first letter?"

"Yeah," said Sirius sourly. "She sent flowers with the last one." He jabbed his wand at the jar
of armadillo bile Peter was holding, and the jar exploded. Peter yelped as runny yellow liquid
soaked the front of his robes.

"Padfoot," said James disapprovingly. He Vanished the mess with a wave of his wand. "It's
not Pete's fault you've got a pair of maniacs for parents."

"Nah, I don't mind," said Peter. "If these had been my dress robes, though…"
Sirius laughed. "That gives me an idea, actually."

"Godric's teeth," said Peter. "Leave people's robes alone, will you?"

"Talk about a one-track mind, Pete," said Sirius, standing up and dusting off his knees. "It's
nothing to do with robes. I think I know how to get some answers out of my lunatic family."
He looked at Remus, batting his eyes. "May I be excused, Prefect Lupin?"

Remus looked vaguely disapproving, but he waved his hand. "Go on, then. Don't do anything
I wouldn't do."

Sirius grinned. "You're giving me free rein, then. Excellent."

He took the steps to the Owlery two at a time and scanned the rafters for James' owl, Palatine.
He spotted it asleep near the top of the Owlery, a grey bundle of feathers with a flat face.
Sirius whistled, holding up a treat in his hands, and Palatine stirred. It swooped down to land
on the perch beside Sirius.

"Good owl," said Sirius, letting Palatine nip at the treat. "This'll just take a second, then…"
He pulled a bit of parchment and a quill out of his bag and began to write.

Andromeda,

Just wondering if you've heard anything from Uncle Cygnus about my parents. They've been
sending some strange post to Hogwarts lately. I'd ask them myself, but we're not exactly on
the best of terms. Which you've probably heard about already.

Anyway, write me if you know what they're up to. Hope you're well.

Your favourite cousin,

Sirius

The following morning at breakfast, Sirius was surprised to see Palatine among the flock of
owls circling the Great Hall. "That was quick," he said as the owl landed on the table in front
of him, a roll of parchment tied to its leg.

"Who'd you write to, then?" asked James, who was eating his fifth boiled egg of the morning.
Protein for Quidditch, he'd told them.

"'Dromeda," said Sirius, unfurling the scroll. "Figured she'd know —" He broke off, staring at
the parchment.

"What is it?" asked Remus.

"It's my letter," said Sirius. "The one I sent yesterday. I guess Palatine couldn't find her."

James stopped peeling his sixth egg and frowned. "That's weird. You don't think she might
have been… hurt or anything, do you?"
"There's no way," said Sirius. "It would have been in the papers if something had happened to
her. She's a Black." He glanced at Remus. "You're our designated Prophet reader — there
hasn't been anything written about her, has there?"

Remus shook his head. "A family of Muggles in Essex vanished last week, but that was the
most recent disappearance. Nothing about the Blacks."

Sirius relaxed. "Good."

"Is there anyone else in your family you can write?" asked Peter.

"Just one," said Sirius, deflating a bit. "My Uncle Alphard." He'd really been hoping to avoid
writing to Alphard. He didn't want to bring up the events of the summer.

"You've always said he was alright," said James, resuming peeling his egg.

"Yeah, I guess," said Sirius. He reluctantly pulled out a quill and began a new letter to his
uncle.

Uncle Alphard,

Have my parents been acting funny lately? Funnier than usual, I mean. Think they might
have gotten Regulus and me mixed up — they're sending Howlers to him and love letters to
me. It's probably nothing, but I thought I'd ask.

— Sirius

P.S. I tried to write to Andromeda, but the owl couldn't find her. I don't suppose you know
anything about that, either?

P.P.S. Regulus told me about what you did for me over the summer. Thanks, I guess.

Uncle Alphard's response arrived a few days later and was equally brief.

Sirius,

It's good to hear from you. Yes, I know what happened to Andromeda, and I believe it
explains the behaviour of your parents, but it's best we speak about it in person. When is your
next Hogsmeade weekend? We can meet in the Three Broomsticks.

— Alphard

P.S. You're welcome. Don't make it a habit.

"Cryptic, isn't he?" asked James, reading over Sirius' shoulder.

Sirius snorted. "He's a Black. 'Dramatic' runs in the family." A pair of handsome eagle owls
clutching creamy white envelopes in their beak landed next to him on the table, and Sirius
groaned. "More letters from mummy dearest. Want to do me the honour, Prongs?"
"Thought you'd never ask," said James. He Transfigured the letters into tiny white eggs and
popped them into his mouth. He swallowed, making a face. "Tastes like paper."

"Imagine that," said Remus as he buttered a piece of toast. "Are you going to meet your
uncle, then, Sirius?"

Sirius shooed his parents' owls away from the table. "I guess it can't hurt."

"How crazy is he, on a scale of one to Walburga?" asked Peter.

"Maybe a three," said Sirius. "He's probably the least mental family member I've got — He
works for the Ministry, even."

"That doesn't mean much," said Peter. "Mulciber's father works for the Ministry, and he's an
idiot."

Sirius looked disdainfully towards the Slytherin table. "Mulciber's father weighs wands at the
Security Desk. Uncle Alphard, on the other hand — he's an Obliviator."

Peter whistled, and Remus' eyes widened. "An Obliviator? Surely your family doesn't… take
advantage of his talents?"

Sirius and James exchanged a glance. "Not that I'm aware of," said Sirius. "Though if I had
been Obliviated, I wouldn't remember, would I?" He smirked at his joke, but Remus
continued to look worried.

That evening, Sirius attached a final letter to Palatine's leg.

Uncle Alphard,

Glad someone knows what's going on, at least. We go to Hogsmeade on the twenty-eighth of
November.

See you in the Three Broomsticks.

— Sirius

On Sunday evening, Severus huddled in a corner of the Slytherin common room with the
other Followers, waiting for Mulciber to return from detention. Rosier and Wilkes were
engrossed in an aggressive game of Wizard's Chess, while Avery stood behind Wilke's chair,
offering encouragement to both sides. Regulus watched silently, sketching the white queen in
his journal and frowning occasionally at what he perceived to be a bad play.

Severus was only half-paying attention to the game; he was focused on making annotations in
the margins of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He dipped his quill in ink and turned to
the page titled 'Elixir to Induce Euphoria'. Add a sprig of peppermint, he wrote. He was bent
so low over the book that his nose was nearly touching the page. Counteracts the side-effects
of singing and —

Regulus nudged him with his foot and Severus looked up. Mulciber was looming over their
table. A drop of dark red landed on the chessboard.

"Alright, Augustus?" asked Avery. "Are you bleeding?" He pulled a handkerchief out of the
pocket of his robes, but Mulciber waved him away.

"Give me a chair, will you?" growled Mulciber, and Wilkes leapt out of his seat. Mulciber sat
down with a grunt, touching his hand to one of his ears. It came away bloody.

Regulus closed his journal. He stared at Mulciber's hand, horrified. "What happened? Was it
Sally? Did you —"

Mulciber let out a mirthless laugh. "You think Sally Dearborn is capable of a curse like this?
No. This is Bellatrix's handiwork."

Regulus looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Bellatrix Black?"

Severus resisted the urge to fling his Potions book at Regulus' head. "The name is familiar to
you, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," said Regulus. "She's my cousin. But why would she —"

"Well, I failed her, didn't I?" asked Mulciber. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing at
Avery with one of his meaty hands. Avery hurriedly pulled out his handkerchief and pressed
it into Mulciber's palm. "We were told to make Dearborn disappear. We failed. As your
mentor, I have taken the brunt of the punishment, but make no mistake — there's plenty of
blame to go around." He glared at them all as he spoke, holding the handkerchief to his ear.

Severus wanted to roll his eyes but thought better of it. As far as he was concerned,
Mulciber's plan in Hogsmeade had been so idiotic he deserved whatever punishment he got.
"Did Bella say anything else?"

"Yeah, she sends hugs and kisses to her precious little half-blood prince," said Mulciber
sarcastically. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, arse-licker?"

Severus said nothing, though his insides were blazing with fury. He wouldn't give Mulciber
the satisfaction.

Mulciber regarded Severus a few seconds longer. Seeming disappointed Severus wasn't
taking the bait, he continued. "Bella's giving us another chance. And if you lot muck this one
up as well, she won't have to kill you, because I'll do it myself."

Regulus looked so worried that Severus took pity on him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Regulus jumped about five feet in the air and nearly fell out of his armchair.

"Oh," said Regulus. "Sorry, Sev. Didn't realise that was you."
Severus removed his hand as if it had been burned. "That's quite alright," he said through
gritted teeth. He swore to himself he'd never attempt another comforting gesture again.

"So when are we going hunting?" asked Wilkes. Nobody responded. He looked around the
table incredulously, clearly expecting a laugh. "Come on, Dearborn? Deer? Hunting? That
was funny…"

"It really wasn't," said Severus. "And I doubt we'll be able to approach Dearborn until our
fearless leader Augustus has his weekends freed up. After all, how will we know what to do
without his direction?"

Mulciber looked murderous, but he didn't argue.

"It's impossible to get to her during the week, anyway," said Rosier fairly, leaning back in his
chair. "She never goes anywhere alone."

Severus nodded. "We shouldn't do it in the castle, either."

Mulciber opened his mouth, then shut it again, glaring Severus. After a moment his curiosity
got the better of him. "Why can't we do it in the castle?"

"The walls have ears, Augustus," said Severus. "And eyes. And mouths."

Regulus' eyes widened as if realising something for the first time. "The portraits."

"Obviously," said Severus. "And the suits of armour, and Merlin-knows-what-else that's been
charmed to keep an eye on students. Better to do it off grounds entirely."

Mulciber snorted. "I knew that already."

"Of course you did," said Severus. "That's the reason you asked why we can't attack
Dearborn in the castle."

Mulciber rose out of his chair, his beady eyes dangerously narrow. "You —"

"Come on, Augustus," said Rosier, stretching his lanky arms into the air. "Sev's just being his
charming self, as usual. No need to take it personally. What else did Bella say?"

"That was the gist of it," said Mulciber. He pulled the bloodied handkerchief away from his
ear and examined it before pressing it against his other ear. "I'll let you lot know if I hear
anything else." He glanced around the common room, which was mostly empty. Even the
emerald fire in the hearth had died down to glowing coals. "Right, you lot clean this place up.
I'm going to bed."

"Some bonding activity," mumbled Avery, watching Mulciber shuffle down the stairs that led
to the dormitories.

"I heard that," Mulciber called over his shoulder. "And I'd watch my mouth if I were you,
Edmund. We all know what kind of bonding activities you like."
 Avery flinched, looking genuinely hurt. Severus considered trying to comfort him, but
remembered his failed attempt with Regulus and thought better of it.

"What a wanker," said Wilkes once Mulciber was out of earshot. He gave Avery's shoulder a
soft punch. "Don't worry about him. We all know he's compensating for something."

That night, Severus sat in his bed, staring across the dormitory at Mulciber's sleeping form.
It'd be so easy to curse him. He could use Sectumsempra, just a little, to ensure Mulciber's
ears continued to bleed throughout the night. Mulciber probably wouldn't even feel it. He'd
simply wake up in the morning completely deaf. Not even Madam Pomfrey would be able to
heal him, not with a spell like Sectumsempra.

Across the room, Avery cleared his throat, looking pointedly at him. Severus glanced down;
he hadn't even realised he'd been turning over his wand in his hands. He shrugged a shoulder
at Avery and placed his wand on his bedside table.

Severus stewed in bed for a long time, his thoughts dark. Finally, he pulled out his copy of
Advanced Potion-Making from under his pillow. If Mulciber wanted a rival, Severus would
give him one.

A soft scratching sound echoed through the dormitory as he made an inscription on the inside
cover of his Potions text.

This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.

Chapter End Notes

I have officially written 100,000 words about Harry Potter's parents! And there's so
much more to come... I don't even remember how long year 6 is but its looong haha.
Thanks for reading!
 After the Feast

"Right," said Mulciber as the other Followers finished cleaning Dungeon Thirteen. He'd just
led them through their latest bonding activity, which involved making Dark Curios and
placing them around the school in the hopes that an unwitting student would touch one.
Completely uninspired, in Severus' opinion. "I know how we're gonna get to Dearborn."

"How?" asked Wilkes as he used his wand to dust the gilded mantelpiece.

"The Halloween feast," said Mulciber. "Head students are tasked with cleaning up afterwards.
The Great Hall will be empty except for Dearborn and Fernsby. And there aren't any portraits
in the Great Hall," he added with a glare at Severus.

Severus didn't flinch. "You're suggesting we face off against the two most talented students in
the school, then. Your plans just keep getting better."

"It'd be easy enough to get Fernsby out of the way," Evan Rosier pointed out. "We could
bribe a student to pull him out of the Hall for a minute. Or we could slip something into his
pumpkin juice."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "And when a teacher inevitably walks in and finds the Great
Hall covered in Sally Dearborn's blood?"

"The Hall is just a start," said Mulciber impatiently. "If we can get her alone I can put her
under the Imperius curse. Then we can go somewhere more… private."

"Right," said Severus sarcastically. "That won't look suspicious at all, a group of Slytherins
parading through the castle with the Gryffindor Head Girl."

Mulciber's nostrils flared. "Funny how you don't propose any ideas of your own, Snivellus."

"Well, I'm not this year's mentor, am I?" said Severus, his voice dripping with venom.

Mulciber's lips twitched. "No. You're not." He looked around at the others, who had finished
cleaning the dungeon and were watching their exchange warily. "Halloween. After the feast,
we'll hide in the staircase that leads to the kitchens until the Hall is empty."

Mulciber dismissed the group, and Severus made for the library instead of following the
others back to the common room. He'd been working on the annotations of his Potions text
and needed to do some additional research on Bubotuber pus.

To his annoyance, Regulus followed him out of the dungeons. "Are we going to kill her?"

Severus grit his teeth. He didn't understand how the Blacks could have raised Regulus to be
so sensitive. "Keep your voice down," he said as they ascended the marble staircase. "Would
you be upset if we did?"
"I'm not a killer," said Regulus. "Are you?"

"Not as of yet," said Severus sourly. "But if the Dark Lord requires it, who am I to disobey
his command?"

Regulus looked like he'd just been punched. "Do you really believe that? The Dark Lord says
jump and you ask how high?"

"Keep your voice down," hissed Severus. The students around them were eyeing him
strangely now. Severus sighed and dragged Regulus into an unused classroom on the first
floor. "If you're having doubts, I advise you to write them down in that diary of yours," he
told Regulus as soon as the door was shut. "I don't want to hear about your worries. I am not
your therapist. I do not sympathise with you."

Regulus stood up a little straighter. "Yes, you do. You don't like Mulciber any more than I do.
I can tell."

"My feelings for Mulciber are irrelevant to this discussion," said Severus. "Do you
understand what I'm telling you? If you have objections to Following, keep it to yourself."

"I do keep it to myself," said Regulus, flushing a little. "I only talk to you because Bella said
you'd help me with —"

"— With adjusting to being an Intent, yes, but I am not your confidant," snapped Severus.

"Right," said Regulus sarcastically. "We're supposed to be a brotherhood, but Lord forbid we
actually talk about anything important —"

"If you keep Following half-heartedly, Mulciber is going to notice," said Severus, cutting him
off. "You're not half as clever as you think you are. I saw what you did with your Dark Curio
today."

Regulus' eyes darted towards the door. "I — I don't know what —"

"You slipped it into your journal instead of leaving it for someone to find," said Severus.
"You're lucky it was only me who noticed. What if Mulciber had been nearby?"

"Mine had a blood-borne curse on it!" said Regulus. "It would have affected generations if
someone had touched it. What was I supposed to do?"

"Then you ought to have mangled the curse when Mulciber wasn't looking!" said Severus.
"That would have been believable enough, the incantation is incredibly complex, and
Mulciber wouldn't have known the difference…" He trailed off. Regulus looked oddly smug.
"Why are you making that face?"

"You do have a conscience," said Regulus. "I knew it."

"Rarely," said Severus. "I prioritise self-preservation. Damage control is a secondary

concern."
"Still," said Regulus. "It's something."

Severus' head began to ache, and he rubbed his brow. "I would urge you to remember why we
are Following, Regulus."

Regulus' thin lips pressed into a line. "To survive."

"Exactly," said Severus. "The more you undermine our cause, the worse your chances of
survival. And don't think for an instant I will come to your rescue when Mulciber finally
catches on to you. I will place my well-being over yours every time."

Regulus didn't respond; his face was almost impressively impassive. Still, Severus thought he
could feel disapproval radiating from every inch of Regulus' perfectly tailored robes.

"By the Baron, Regulus," said Severus, exasperated. He pulled open the door to the
classroom and they stepped into the deserted corridor. "Spit it out."

"Nothing," said Regulus stiffly.

"Whatever you have to say, I've heard worse," said Severus. "You are not the first person I
have disappointed." He tried very hard not to think of Lily.

"I don't have anything to say to you," said Regulus.

Severus grunted and let the conversation drop. He wasn't about to beg Regulus to insult him.

They walked in silence through the castle and into the dungeons. "My last piece of advice,"
said Severus at last. "The next time Mulciber commands you to do something, do it. The
more he trusts you, the better off you will be."

Regulus said nothing. Severus glanced at him, trying to determine what he was thinking, but
Regulus' expression was inscrutable. Well. There were other ways to discover a person's
thoughts.

"What?" asked Regulus, finally meeting Severus' gaze.

Severus touched his wand and reached out briefly with his mind, using Legilimency. It was
like entering a thick fog; Severus found nothing but hazy, insubstantial images in Regulus'
mind, twisted this way and that by an undercurrent of worry.

"I know what you're doing," said Regulus.

Severus blinked, coming back to himself. "Ah. I —"

"I'm surprised you thought that would work on me. Bella taught you Occlumency, didn't she?
Where do you think she learned it from?"

Severus grimaced. The Blacks probably trained all their children in Occlumency. It had been
foolish of him not to consider that, and now he'd shown Regulus his hand.
"There're plenty of mind games in my family," said Regulus. "I know how to defend myself."
He paused, seemingly waiting for an apology. Severus didn't offer one.

"Right," said Regulus, turning towards the stone wall that led to the common room. "If that's
it, then —"

"We probably won't kill her," said Severus abruptly. "Dearborn, I mean. Not even Mulciber is
that stupid. We'll rough her up a bit, send her to St. Mungo's. That will get the point across
and get Bella off our back."

Regulus was still staring at the wall. He gave no indication that he had heard. Severus'
headache was worse now; hopefully this was the last time he had to prod Regulus into
Following. Finally, Regulus nodded a little and muttered the password to the common room.
The stone wall slid open with a rumble, and Regulus entered the passageway. Severus trailed
him inside.

The following Saturday was the new moon, and the grounds of Hogwarts were silent, save
for the occasional far-off hoot of an owl. In Hagrid's vegetable patch, a rat with sandy-
coloured fur scurried out from behind a pumpkin. It made several laps around Hagrid's hut
before darting towards the Forbidden Forest, where James and Remus stood. They were
frowning at the large piece of parchment hovering in the air in front of them. Beside Remus
sat a large, shaggy black dog which somehow looked similarly concerned.

The rat squeaked as it reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and James turned towards
the sound. The rat suddenly tripled in size, stretching upwards and becoming Peter. He
jogged towards James, slightly out of breath. "Well?"

"No good, Wormtail," said James. "It's not picking up on your movement at all, not even in
your Animagus form." He tapped a finger against one corner of the parchment, which
contained a single, unmoving dot labelled Peter Pettigrew. There were no other dots on the
map.

"Reckon it's something to do with the Homonculous Charm you cast?" asked Peter worriedly.

"I'm sure of it," said James. "Blasted charm's impossible to modify without making the whole
thing useless."

Remus made a humming noise. "What do you think about using Homenum revelio instead?"

"That won't work," said James, shaking his head. "I read Scamander's In the Field, Among the
Fanged last week, and it said Revelio only detects human presence, not half-human or
animals — including Animagi, mind you. What's the point of the map if we can't even keep
track of each other? At least the Homonculous Charm can be altered to include all living
beings."
"Right," said Remus. "In theory."

"Theory's all we've got at this point," said James. "Pete, mind going another round?"

Peter nodded and immediately began to shrink. The rat darted back towards the vegetable
patch, and James lost sight of it among the grass. He tapped his wand against the corner of
the parchment labelled Hagrid's Hut. "Forget the Homonculous Charm a moment. Let's try
something new. Appare vestigium. Specialis revelio."

He and Remus watched the parchment intently — the dog had lost interest and was busy
sniffing a tree — but the dot labelled Peter Pettigrew didn't budge. After a few minutes,
James cupped his hands to his mouth and made a hooting sound, like an owl, and the rat
returned to them.

"Nothing," said James in response to Peter's questioning look. Peter swore.

The dog wandered back over to them and reared onto its hind legs, becoming Sirius. "I've got
an idea," he said with a grin. He drew his wand and pointed it at the map. "Revelio largus
bloody ratus… Pettigrew apperio —"

"Padfoot —" said James warningly, but it was too late. The map began to glow brightly,
casting blinding light in all directions like a miniature sun. Remus pulled his hand away from
the parchment as if he'd been burned.

James groaned. "Merlin's arse, Sirius," he said. "Were you not listening in first year Charms
when Flitwick told us not to mangle spells for a laugh? Because of the unforeseen
consequences?" He turned away from the parchment, which was too bright to look at, and ran
a hand through his hair, frustrated.

Sirius shrugged, unconcerned. "Thought you lot would think it was funny." He screwed up
his eyes against the light being cast by the parchment. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd realised
you've got a wand stuck up your —"

"Out of curiosity," said Remus. He was examining his hand, which was glowing as brightly
as the parchment it had touched. "Do you happen to know the countercharm for 'Pettigrew
apperio'?"

"Of course I do," said Sirius, pointing his wand at Remus' hand. "Finite incantatum."

Nothing happened.

"Bugger," said Sirius. "Looks like Flitwick had a point."

Peter rejoined them, shielding his eyes against the blinding light. "What happened? Why's the
map glowing like that?"

"Bad joke," said Sirius quickly. He gave James an apologetic look.

James smiled in spite of himself. "You look like a dog that got caught pissing in the house."
"An adorable, lovable dog who is very sorry and won't do it again," said Sirius, batting his
eyelashes at James. "You should see me make this face as Padfoot. Even my mum can't resist
it."

James snorted. He fished the Invisibility Cloak out of his bag and flung it over the dazzlingly
bright parchment. The light immediately vanished.

"How do we fix it?" asked Peter.

James lifted a shoulder. "I haven't the foggiest. Experimental Charms are something of an
obscure subject, aren't they? We might have to make" — he sighed — "another trip to the
library to figure this one out."

Sirius groaned. "We're starting to live there. People are going to get the wrong idea."

"Tell me about it," said James. "Madam Pince has started making eyes at me."

"You wish," said Sirius. "She's making eyes at me. You just happen to be nearby."

"Actually," said Remus, "I think it might be me she fancies. She complimented my jumper
the other day."

James gaped at him. "She did not."

"She did," said Remus gravely. "Said it looked warm. Plus she lets me take out five books
instead of four."

"Say no more, Moony," said Sirius, placing a hand to his forehead dramatically. "I'm starting
to get jealous."

"Back to the castle, then?" asked James. He ducked under the Invisibility Cloak, screwing his
eyes shut against the light of the map, and began to roll the parchment into a scroll. He
stuffed the map into his bag, which began to glow as beams of light pierced through the
fabric.

Once he had finished, the others joined him under the Cloak. "Who's up for a midnight snack
in the kitchens?" asked Peter.

James examined his hands, which were now glowing faintly, and made a noncommittal noise.
"I've got Quidditch tomorrow morning. If I get less than six hours of sleep my muscles won't
grow."

"You say that like you're a bodybuilder instead of a scrawny git," said Sirius. He flexed for
emphasis, and James shoved him good-naturedly.

"Let's go to the kitchens," said Remus. "I feel decent tonight."

James realised he was outnumbered. "Fine. But if we lose against Slytherin I'm holding you
lot personally responsible."
This late at night, the Hogwarts kitchens were dark and nearly empty; James guessed that
even house-elves needed sleep. A low fire crackled in the hearth at the end of the room,
where a pair of house-elves appeared to be making soup in a large cauldron. One of the
house-elves turned at the sound of the door creaking open.

James and the others froze under the Cloak as the house-elf looked around the kitchen,
squinting. After a moment, it gave a tiny shrug and resumed stirring the cauldron.

Sirius nudged James as they approached their usual table at the back of the kitchens.
Someone was already sitting there, resting their head on the table as they scribbled on a piece
of parchment.

James came to a halt as he saw who it was. Lily, he mouthed to the others. He was out from
under the Invisibility Cloak before anyone could stop him. "Alright, Evans?"

Lily's head shot up, and she began scrambling to roll up her parchment. "Potter? What —
how did you — I didn't hear you come in…" Her eyes narrowed. "It's after curfew. You're not
supposed to be out of bed."

"Neither are you," said James, waggling a glowing finger at her.

"I'm a prefect," said Lily, giving his hand a strange look. "I'm allowed to be out. Just finished
my rounds, in fact."

She was wearing pyjamas. "Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar?" asked James.
Lily opened her mouth to protest but he looked pointedly at her nightgown and then at the
half-eaten piece of cake sitting on the table.

Lily flushed. "I have a lot on my plate this year, alright?"

"Literally," said Sirius. He strode towards them, followed by Remus and Peter, who was
holding the Invisibility Cloak. "Tell me you're not planning on letting that cake go to waste,
Evans."

Lily startled a bit at their sudden appearance. "Where did you lot come from?"

"We can be very quiet when we want to be," said Sirius. He slid into the chair beside her and
helped himself to a bite of cake. "What're you working on so late at night?"

"Nothing," said Lily. She made to stuff the scroll of parchment into her bag. James reached
for the parchment, trying to grab it, but Lily glared at him. "Don't you dare, Potter."

James drew back at once. "Er, sorry, Evans. Just curious…"

"Lily," said Remus quietly, "if you told us what you're working on, we might be able to help."

Lily looked at him, biting her lip. "It's not for a class," she said finally. "I'm writing a letter."

"I'm great at writing letters," said Peter. "I had calligraphy lessons until I was twelve."
"Really?" asked Lily.

"Yeah, Pete here's got better handwriting than the Queen, I expect," said Sirius. "Atrocious
grammar, though…" Peter stuck out his tongue, and Sirius grinned.

"What's your letter about, then, Lily?" asked Remus.

"Ah," said Lily. "Right. Well, er, I don't suppose any of you read the Daily Prophet?"

"Moony does," said James, clapping Remus on the back.

"Of course you do," said Lily. She gave Remus a small smile. "Have you been following the
stuff about Dearborn's Muggle-born Protection Act?"

Remus nodded. "It passed the House of Mages, didn't it?"

"Right," said Lily. "It's up for a vote in the House of Lords next week. The Prophet's
predicting it will pass there as well."

"What's the Act about?" asked Peter.

"Protecting Muggle-borns, obviously," said Sirius. "Use your brain, Pete."

"Yeah," said Peter, "but what do they mean by 'protection'?" He turned to Lily. "Will you get
your own bodyguard or what?"

"Nobody knows," said Lily. "They've been really hush-hush about the details. But since it'll
probably pass, my family will be affected. So I'm sort of… trying to figure out the best way
to write to my mum about the whole situation. To fill her in about what's been going on."

James whistled. "Bit of a heavy topic, that."

"Exactly," said Lily. "There's no good way to bring it up. Like, 'Hi Mum, don't you think
changing your name and going into hiding would be a laugh?'" She looked down at her
parchment, shaking her head. "I must have written fifty different drafts at this point."

"We can help," said James firmly. He reached into his bag for a quill, but as soon as he
opened his bag a beam of bright light hit his face, blinding him.

"What have you got in there?" asked Lily. "A miniature sun?"

"More or less," said James, blinking dazedly in her direction. "Sirius thought he'd try his hand
at spell invention. Things went a little sideways." He waved his glowing hands at her and
continued to rummage through his bag. Finally, his fingers closed around the quill he was
looking for, and he thrust it at Peter. "If you'll do the honours, Pete? Seeing as I've gone
temporarily blind…"

"Of course," said Peter, taking the quill, which was black and elegantly plumed. He tapped it
with his wand and murmured a couple of spells before unrolling Lily's piece of parchment
and beginning to write. "'Dear… Mum'…" He stopped and looked around the table. "What
next?"

Lily jumped in. "'How are you? How's the garden? Has Tuney brought her new boyfriend
over yet? Have you —'"

"Okay, that's enough pleasantries," Sirius interrupted. "Let's get on with it."

Lily gave Sirius a withering look. "Being interested in my mum's life is different from
pleasantries, Black."

Sirius blinked, looking as if he'd never considered that. "Er, right. Of course. Carry on then."
He tilted his chair back on its legs and closed his eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

"'How're the dahlias you've been growing?'" said Lily as Peter dutifully continued to write.
"'Has Mrs Roberts given you permission to sell your flowers at the market yet? If she drags
her feet I can make her precious lilac bush wilt, if you'd like'…"

James leaned forward on his elbows, fascinated. Lily's letter to her Muggle mum sounded
so… normal. "Our mums would get along," he said as Lily paused for breath. "My mum's
been growing dahlias too. Though she can never get them to flower through the season."

Lily glanced at him, surprised. "Really?" He nodded. "Weird," she said. "I would've thought
she'd prefer magical plants, like Flutterby bushes…"

"Well, she's got those too," admitted James. "But she also does regular flowers." He paused
as he was struck by a thought. "She knows some great gardening spells, actually. Maybe I
could get her to teach me over Christmas, and then I could show you next term."

Lily stared at James as if she was seeing him for the first time. "That would be nice," she said
at last before turning back to Peter. "Ready to get to the good bits?"

Peter cracked his knuckles. "Let's go."

James kicked the leg of Sirius' chair to wake him up. Sirius startled and nearly fell over but
managed to catch himself in time. "Are we finally at the interesting part?" asked Sirius.
"Excellent. How much does your mum know about what's going on?"

"Erm, not a lot," said Lily, looking sheepish. "I mean, she knows there's some prejudice
against Muggle-borns, but that's about it."

Sirius snorted. "That's putting it lightly."

Lily flushed. "Well, what was I supposed to tell her? 'By the way, Mum, a Dark Lord and his
followers want people like us dead. Tra la la, back to my magic school I go.'" James and Peter
laughed, and Lily looked slightly gratified.

"Well, better late than never," said Remus. "We can break the news to her gently. How does
this sound: 'I've noticed anti-Muggle prejudice increasing lately. A new law has been
proposed in the Ministry of Magic to keep families like ours safe.'"
Sirius leaned over to ruffle Remus' hair. "You're brilliant, Moony. Such a diplomat."

Finishing the letter took the better part of an hour, during which they munched on cakes and
tea provided by the two house-elves who were still awake. "That's it, then," said Peter, ending
the letter with a flourish. "What do you think?" He held the parchment out to her.

Lily's eyes widened as she scanned the letter. "What the — this is in my handwriting!"

"Oh, yeah," said Peter. "I charmed our Smart-Arse Quill to write like you. Hope you don't
mind."

"You…" Lily trailed off. "I've never heard of a Smart-Arse Quill before. Is it a new Zonko's
product?"

"Nah," said Sirius, snatching the quill out of Peter's hands and twirling it between his fingers.
"This beauty is one of our own inventions."

Lily tilted her head to the side as if she was remembering something. "Is that the same quill
you used to grade the E.V.I.L.s last year?"

Sirius nodded. "Tricky bit of magic to get right, but worth every minute we spent on it. It can
write independently, too, if you give it a topic — it does all my essays now."

Lily shook her head. "Imagine what you lot could do if you actually applied yourselves."

James grinned. "The wizarding world isn't ready for that." Sirius handed him the quill and he
shoved it back into his bag, screwing his eyes tightly shut against the light coming from the
inside.

Lily was watching him thoughtfully. "Give me that," she said at last, gesturing towards the
bag. "Let me see if I can put it right."

"Absolutely," said James. He pushed the bag towards her, heedless of the looks Sirius and
Peter were giving him.

Lily opened the bag, shielding her eyes from the light. She prodded the inside with her wand
and murmured a string of countercharms so complex that James only recognised a handful.
After a moment, her face brightened. "Tenebrio," she said, and the light immediately
vanished.

"Merlin's tits, Evans," said James appreciatively. "I always knew you were a dab hand at
Charms, but that was bloody impressive."

The tips of Lily's ears turned pink. "Don't mention it. Now…" She held her hand out towards
James, watching him expectantly.

James had no idea what she wanted from him. Payment for fixing the map, maybe? But she
was still holding his bag.

"Potter," said Lily. "Give me your hand."

"Ah," said James. Muggles shook hands all the time. She probably wanted a handshake as
thanks for a job well done. He stretched out his arm and gave her hand a firm shake. "Many
thanks, Evans. Much obliged."

He tried to pull away, but her hand tightened around his wrist. "Er," said James, completely
bewildered. He shot a panicked glance at Sirius, who was giving him a strange look.

"Why are you being so weird?" asked Lily. "Don't you want me to stop your hands from
glowing as well?"

"Oh," said James, feeling stupid. He'd misread the situation entirely. His face was oddly hot
all of a sudden, and he was certain he'd just gone as red as Lily's ears. "Er, right."

He held both arms out and she took his hands gently. Her hands were so small and soft
compared to his own, her nails unpainted and neatly trimmed. He suddenly felt like a bit of a
gorilla compared to her.

Lily touched the tip of her wand to each of his palms and performed the same sequence of
countercharms. The light faded from his hands.

"Thanks, Evans," said James. He gave her hand a quick squeeze and pulled away.

A corner of Lily's lips turned upward as if she were trying very hard not to smirk. She turned
to Remus, who dutifully held out his hand towards her.

"You know," said Lily later, as the five of them climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor tower,
"I'm still giving you lot detention the next time I catch you out of bed."

"Ah, but you'd have to catch us first," said Sirius, stretching and yawning. "And we're
planning on making that very difficult."

"I'm not going to ask," said Lily.

"Good strategy," said Peter. They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and Lily bid them
good-night, heading up the stairs to her dormitory.

"You two were very civil," Remus said to James as they entered their own dormitory. "I think
that might be a first."

James shrugged, trying to look casual. "I guess we're both maturing."

Sirius let out a bark of a laugh. "You mean you're maturing, mate. She's always been leagues
ahead of you."

"And I expect she always will be," said James, climbing under the sheets on his bed. There
was a rustle at his side, and a large black dog jumped onto the bed, curling up at his legs.
James rolled over and pulled the sheets up to his chin. "Night, Pads."

The dog woofed.

On Halloween evening, Severus slunk down to the feast with the other Followers. He took
his place next to Regulus at the Slytherin table, which was covered in an orange tablecloth
trimmed with black embroidery. Clouds of bats fluttered about the enchanted ceiling, and the
corners of the Great Hall were thick with cobwebs.

Mulciber craned his beefy neck towards the Gryffindor table. "Can any of you lot see
Dearborn?"

Severus followed Mulciber's gaze. Sally Dearborn was chatting with several other seventh-
year girls, her blonde hair pulled back into a plait and a pointed witches' hat atop her head.
Sally's eyes flicked towards them, and Severus dipped his head hastily, busying himself with
the platter of pumpkin pasties in front of him.

He was so preoccupied with looking convincingly enthused about the pasties that he nearly
missed the sound of clicking heels on the floor. Mulciber elbowed him so hard in the side that
Severus nearly dropped the platter.

"What?" he snarled. Mulciber jerked his head, indicating something behind them, and
Severus turned to look.

Sally Dearborn had just strode out of the Great Hall, pointy hat and all.

The other Followers looked as confused as Severus felt. "Well?" asked Wilkes finally,
looking at Mulciber.

"She probably needed the loo or something," said Mulciber. "I'll see where she's gone. You
lot stay here." He gave them all a glare that he probably thought looked menacing before
getting up from the table and lumbering away.

Ten minutes passed, and Mulciber didn't return. Neither did Sally.

"Should we —" started Avery. "Maybe we should, I dunno, check on Augustus? If he's run
into trouble…"

"By trouble, do you mean the wrong end of Dearborn's wand?" asked Wilkes. He'd finished
his meal and was playing with a deck of cards.

"More or less." Avery was bouncing his leg up and down so quickly that Severus could feel
the vibrations on his end of the bench. "I'll go look for him, shall I? Would anybody else like
to come?"

Nobody responded.

"Seriously, you lot?" said Avery. "He's our mentor —"

"I'll go," said Regulus. He sounded deeply unenthusiastic, as if he'd just volunteered himself
for a date with the Giant Squid.

"Great, thanks," said Avery. "It'll look better if it's me and you, since we're prefects — We
can say we've been patrolling…"

Avery scurried out of the Hall with Regulus trailing several yards behind him.

"And then there were three," said Rosier ominously, gesturing between Severus, Wilkes and
himself.

Wilkes began to deal out the cards. "Who wants to play Cribbage? Let's take advantage of the
peace and quiet for once."

After three rounds of Cribbage (Severus won two, but he'd been cheating), Mulciber returned,
followed by Regulus and Avery.

"Took you long enough," said Wilkes, turning over a card. "What happened?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" said Mulciber. He sat down and began to saw through a slice of
roast pork. "Figures, while we've been out risking our necks, you all have been playing cards.
Useless, the lot of you."

Severus made a jot on the parchment they were using to keep score. "You told us to stay here.
I wasn't aware that you actually intended us to do the opposite."

"You —"

"Augustus," said Avery tonelessly. A vein in Mulciber's forehead bulged, but Avery was
focused on the card game. Apparently even he had a limit for Mulciber's tantrums. "There's
no need to be cross."

"We couldn't find Dearborn," Regulus told the group. He glanced nervously at Mulciber. "We
met up with Augustus on the seventh floor, but he hadn't seen her either."

Severus glanced up from his cards. Something was off about Regulus' tone of voice. Was he
helping Mulciber cover something up?

"She probably went back to her common room," said Rosier. "She had a few minutes' head
start on you lot."

"Pity," said Wilkes indifferently.

Severus looked at Regulus a moment longer, then went back to scoring his hand. "Shame you
couldn't catch up to her. By the way, Wilfred — looks like I've won again." Wilkes squinted
suspiciously at him, and Severus responded with what he hoped was an innocent shrug. "I
wonder what tipped Dearborn off?" said Wilkes as he reshuffled the cards. "Think someone
said something? Emma Vanity's always trying to listen in on our conversations, think she's
still a bit peeved Lucius passed her over…"
"I wasn't aware that thinking was part of your job as a Follower," said Mulciber savagely.
"Let's go. I want to see what Fernsby does after the feast. We can watch him from the hidden
stairs that lead to the kitchens."

Severus trailed the others to the hidden staircase. He kept eyes on Mulciber's back, wishing
he didn't need eye contact to perform Legilimency. Why did Mulciber care about Fernsby?
Was he worried Fernsby would go looking for Sally Dearborn?

In the staircase, Severus kept watch through the keyhole of the door as hundreds of students
filed out of the Great Hall, ushered back to their dormitories by the teachers. Finally,
Professor Dumbledore exited the Hall, waving jovially over his shoulder at Chester Fernsby,
who was rolling up the sleeves of his robes and eyeing the massive flock of bats with
apprehension.

"Fernsby's trying to vanish the bats," Severus said to the others as the sound of Dumbledore's
footsteps faded. "Stupid if you ask me, a Freezing Charm has a wider range and would —"

"Enough magical theory," snapped Mulciber. "What about Dearborn? Does he look worried
about her?"

Severus didn't bother keeping the disdain from his voice. "The bats seem to be his primary
concern."

Mulciber jabbed a finger at Regulus and Avery. "You two. Prefects. Go talk to Fernsby. Tell
him you want to speak to Dearborn and see what he says."

Avery blinked, seemingly startled at being singled out. Regulus tensed; he looked towards
Severus as if hoping Severus would bail him out. Severus met his gaze, impassive. He'd
warned Regulus to solve his conflicts on his own.

"Why are you looking at him like that?" barked Mulciber, and Regulus jumped.

"I don't know how you mean —"

"Severus Snape is not your mentor," growled Mulciber as he drew his wand. "Am I clear?"

Regulus' voice was as brittle as shattered glass. "Yes."

"Go talk to Fernsby. Now."

Regulus' expression was unreadable. "As you wish, mentor." He gave Mulciber an ironic
little bow and pulled open the door to the Entrance Hall. Severus quickly shut the door
behind them and pressed his eye to the keyhole. Regulus was striding into the Great Hall,
followed by Avery. Regulus raised a hand in greeting, and Fernsby turned around. After a
minute of talking, Regulus nodded and drew his wand to help Fernsby Vanish the swarm of
bats. As they worked, Avery leaned against the wall and watched, looking bored.

Half an hour later, the Great Hall had regained its normal appearance. Fernsby bounded up
the marble steps of the Entrance Hall, and Regulus and Avery rejoined the Followers in the
flight of stairs that led to the kitchens. "Fernsby's got no idea where Dearborn is," Regulus
announced. "He said he'd look for her this evening, though."

Mulciber's thick neck began to redden. Interesting, thought Severus.

"If you squealed to him," said Mulciber, "or showed him our hand —"

Avery frowned. "I don't —"

"Not you, you dolt," said Mulciber. He advanced on Regulus, who swallowed audibly. "Let
me spell this out for you. If I find out you spoke a word — one word — of our plan to him, if
you gave anything away, I'll make sure you vanish too."

Regulus took a step backwards, his hands shaking. Mulciber advanced on him, his voice
growing louder. He sounded just like Severus' father, Tobias, and the thought filled Severus'
mouth with a bitter taste.

Regulus' tall, lanky form seemed to shrink as Mulciber continued to pelt him with insults.
"You think you're indispensable because of your last name? You're worth nothing, and you
will never —"

"Augustus," said Severus. He deeply regretted intervening, but if he had to listen to

Mulciber's tirade for another second he might actually curse someone. "You're being
ridiculous. Threatening our newest Intent will get us nowhere."

His voice seemed to pull Mulciber out of his fixation on Regulus. Mulciber clenched his fists,
looking as if he dearly wanted to snap Severus' neck. He took several deep breaths. "Back to
the dungeons, all of you," he gritted out between his teeth. "The common room still needs
cleaning."

The next morning, the sun had barely risen when Severus heard a knock on the dormitory
door. Professor Slughorn entered without waiting for a response, squeezing his considerable
gut past the doorframe. "Morning, lads," said Professor Slughorn. There was no hint of the
usual cheer in his voice. "Mulciber, I must ask you to come with me for a moment."

Mulciber rolled over in bed, rubbing his eyes blearily. After a moment, he realised who was
speaking to him and sat up straight. "Is everything alright? Sir?"

"That remains to be seen," said Professor Slughorn gravely. "You're familiar with the Head
Girl, Sally Dearborn, I believe?"

Mulciber had the good sense to try and look sheepish, at least. "You know I am, sir."

"Then I'll see you in my office in ten minutes," said Professor Slughorn, turning to leave.

Severus spoke without thinking. "Did something happen to her?"

Professor Slughorn paused, one meaty hand on the doorframe. "That is what we are trying to
determine, Sliverus. I'm rather hoping this is all a misunderstanding, but given the political
affiliations of her father… Yes, it's for the best that we pursue all avenues, no matter how
unlikely they might be…"

"Sir?"

Professor Slughorn sighed heavily, fixing his watery eyes on Severus. "Sally Dearborn has
not been seen since the Halloween feast last night. I'm afraid we must assume the worst."
 The Second Son
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

During breakfast the following morning, Sirius managed to Transfigure the latest letter from
his mum into a slide whistle. He was in the middle of practising an off-key rendition of one
of his favourite Muggle tunes when he realised that the Great Hall had fallen unusually quiet.

James gave him a nudge and jerked his head towards the staff table. Dumbledore had risen
from his seat and was waiting, hands folded, for the Hall to grow silent. Sirius blew a sad-
sounding note through the slide whistle and set it gently on the table.

"Thank you, Mr Black," said Dumbledore. His eyes swept over the four long tables in the
Great Hall. "Now that I have everyone's attention, I am afraid that I have an announcement to
make."

Several students exchanged nervous glances. Sirius caught Remus' eye — surely if something
bad had happened, it would have been in the Daily Prophet — but Remus shook his head,
looking as confused as Sirius felt.

"It has been brought to my attention that Sally Dearborn, the Head Girl, did not return to her
dormitory last night after the Halloween feast," continued Dumbledore. "The Heads of
House, along with myself, have conducted a thorough search of the castle and have failed to
discover where she might have gone. I must request that any student with information on the
matter come forward at once; it is possible that Miss Dearborn is in jeopardy, and time may
be of the essence. In the meantime, the staff of Hogwarts will be coordinating daily search
parties around the castle and its grounds. Students who wish to participate need only speak to
their Head of House."

With a shake of his elaborate velvet robes, Dumbledore sat down. After a moment, the Great
Hall began to buzz with conversation.

James leaned across the table, beckoning Sirius, Remus and Peter in conspiratorially.
"Dumbledore seems worried, doesn't he? Reckon Sally ran away?"

"Nah," said Sirius. "That doesn't make sense. She's got too much going for her. Head Girl, top
of her class…"

Remus' brow creased. "I wonder if it has anything to do with her father's politics. Last week's
Prophet mentioned that his department's been getting threats over that Act of his."

"Could be," said James. "Maybe he pulled her out of Hogwarts to keep her safe, and this
whole 'missing person' thing is a front. Merlin knows Caradoc's paranoid enough to pull
something like that."
Half of Hogwarts shared James' theory, it turned out; in the week that followed, the news that
the Head Girl had gone missing was the source of much gossip around Hogwarts. Many
students, especially those from pure-blooded families, thought that Caradoc Dearborn had
simply spirited his daughter away to safety. Sirius, on the other hand, was considerably more
pessimistic about Sally's fate, though he didn't voice his theories out loud. He suspected that
Remus was of a similar mind, considering the way he began to disappear behind the pages of
the Daily Prophet during breakfast and would only reemerge after reading the entire thing
from cover to cover.

To Sirius' annoyance, James immediately signed them up to participate in not one but two
different search parties ("It'll be good for the map! " James had protested when Sirius accused
him of becoming a do-gooder. "We'll have a built-in excuse if they catch us poking around
somewhere we're not supposed to be!").

These search parties ended up being mostly useless; the most interesting thing Sirius and
James managed to find was a room on the third floor which contained a trapdoor to a hidden
corridor. As soon as Chester Fernsby, who was leading the search party, looked the other way,
Sirius furtively added the room to the map.

After a few days passed, however, it became increasingly clear that none of the search parties
had found any leads on Sally Dearborn. All of her belongings were still in her dormitory,
save for her wand, and rumour had it that she'd left the Halloween feast with her meal
unfinished. It was as if she'd simply vanished into thin air.

On Wednesday morning, Sirius woke to several loud bangs, followed by a popping sound.
"Prongs," he said blearily as he groped for his wand, "What —"

A heavy weight landed on his legs. "Happy birthday!" said James, beaming and bouncing up
and down on Sirius' bed. "How does it feel to be of age?"

"A bit painful, actually," said Sirius, pushing James off of him. Another bang sounded from
above as James tumbled to the floor, and Sirius looked up. Fireworks were exploding in the
half-enchanted sky depicted on the ceiling of their dormitory. Another firework went off with
a fizzing sound, raining down red and gold sparks upon the canopies of their beds.

"Nice," said Sirius appreciatively. He squinted at the ceiling, which looked suspiciously
bright. "What time is it?"

"Half-past ten," said Peter. "We figured we'd let you sleep in. Hope you weren't planning on
attending any classes today…"

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Sirius. He slid out of his silk pyjamas and into a set of robes
which were crumpled in a pile on the floor. "Right, where're you lot hiding my presents?"

James waggled a finger at him. "Not so fast. That comes later."

"Sod later," said Sirius. He picked up his wand off the bedside table and cleared his throat.
"Accio presents."
Nothing happened.

"You wankers," said Sirius. "You didn't get me any —"

Remus exchanged a glance with James before saying, "Do you remember what we're doing
tonight, Pads?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "We're going to eat at the Three Broomsticks and then wreak havoc
at that Muggle theme park in Lancashire."

"Right," said James. He cleared his throat. "There's been a slight change of plans. We'll have
dinner at mine." He spoke so quickly Sirius could barely understand him. "I tried to talk them
out of it, but you know how my parents are. You're like a second son to them, you know, and
they wanted to celebrate. I know you probably think it's pants, spending the evening with
them, so we don't have to stay long if you don't want, and after we can still —"

Sirius tackled him, and James broke off. "Of course I want to eat with your parents," said
Sirius, ruffling James' hair. "They're lovely." His grin grew mischievous. "Lovely and rich,
which makes for excellent presents. Good show, Prongs."

They spent the morning drinking an expensive bottle of spirits that Peter had swiped from his
mum before the start of term, and in the afternoon they mapped out the Prefect's bathroom in
exquisite detail, per Sirius' request.

"I can't wait till we figure out how to track people on this thing," said Sirius, running his
hands lovingly over the map. "Imagine knowing exactly which sequence of bubbles
Madeleine Prewett in Ravenclaw likes in her bath…"

"You pervert," said Remus. "Let the poor prefects bathe in peace."

"You just don't want us to figure out why you spend so much time 'thinking about
Arithmancy' in the prefect's bathroom," said Sirius.

"The mermaid statue is brilliant at solving equations," said Remus. "I've told you that
before."

"Is she, now?" asked Sirius. "That's good to know. There are a couple of Arithmancy
theorems I never could wrap my head around, I ought to tag along the next time you have a
bath…"

Remus' nostrils flared, and Sirius winked at him.

In the Gryffindor common room that evening, James took a pinch of Floo powder and tossed
it into the fireplace, making the flames blaze green. Professor McGonagall had spoken to
James' parents and agreed to arrange a temporary connection between Fleamont Potter's study
and the Gryffindor common room. Students were generally not allowed to leave Hogwarts
mid-term, but Sirius suspected that Professor McGonagall was being lenient because she felt
sorry for him. He almost wished she'd refused the Potters' request; the thought of being pitied
by the Hogwarts professors made him deeply uncomfortable.
Before James stepped into the fire, he pointed at Remus and Peter. "I turned the Fanged
Geranium on your bedside table into a Portkey, Pete. It'll take you to the theme park at nine
o'clock sharp. Bring the girls, too, would you?"

"You're joking," said Peter. "I loved that plant!"

"I'll buy you another one for Christmas," said James. "Promise."

Peter made a face. "And a new set of dress robes."

"Done," said James, checking his watch. "Right, see you lot at nine, then." He strolled into
the flickering emerald flames and promptly disappeared.

Sirius followed suit, though he had to bend at the waist to fit inside the hearth. There was a
roar in his ears as he spun through the flames and away from Hogwarts. He'd always liked
travelling by Floo; it felt rather like being buffeted about by a massive storm. It was
exhilarating.

The fire spat him out onto the crimson rug of Fleamont Potter's study. James was waiting for
him, his hands in his pockets. "Took you long enough. Thought you'd forgotten the address."

"Of course you did," said Sirius. He smacked James on the back of his head. and James
retaliated by jumping on him. They staggered downstairs, mock-fighting the entire way.

"Mum," called James as Sirius attempted to push him over the bannister, "we're home!"

The Potters were waiting for them at the dining room table. Sirius untangled himself from
James long enough to shake hands with Fleamont and give Euphemia a kiss. "Thank you for
the dinner, Mrs Potter." He scanned the table and his face lit up. "Did you make dumplings?"

Euphemia Potter draped an arm around Sirius and pulled him into a hug. She felt thinner than
Sirius remembered, though her hugs were as comforting as ever. "A little birdie told me that
dumplings are your favourite."

"They are." Sirius eyed the table hungrily as he sat down. So much food had been prepared
that all the platters could hardly fit.

"How are things at Hogwarts?" asked Fleamont Potter, helping himself to some rice. He had
the same uncontrollable shock of hair as James, though Fleamont's had long since gone
white.

"Excellent," said James. "We have so much free time as sixth years, you wouldn't believe it. I
get to practice Quidditch every day."

"Loads of homework, though," added Sirius through a mouthful of dumplings. "Nothing we

can't handle, mind…"

James pushed a piece of flatbread around on his plate, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Dad, do you know Caradoc Dearborn?"
Fleamont blinked and pushed his spectacles up his nose. "In a manner of speaking. I
occasionally consult with the Department of Magical Artefacts, and he comes through from
time to time. Looking at licenses, that sort of thing — I think he deals with a lot of paperwork
as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Why do you ask?"

"Erm," said James, "well, his daughter Sally's in Gryffindor, yeah? She's Head Girl, actually.
Well, she was. I mean —"

"Sally went missing the other night," added Sirius. "Have you heard anything about it?"

Fleamont frowned. "I can't say that I have."

Euphemia set her fork down worriedly. "I don't recall there being anything in the Prophet
about a disappearance."

"Well, it's only been a few days," said James. "But there's been search parties and everything.
Dumbledore made an announcement at breakfast on Monday."

"That's odd," said Fleamont. "I don't believe a student has been harmed at Hogwarts for
nearly fifty years."

"Well, it's not certain that she was harmed, is it?" said James. "Caradoc could've taken Sally
out of Hogwarts for her safety."

Sirius shook his head. "I think that's wishful thinking, mate. Right, Mr Potter?"

Fleamont exchanged a concerned look with Euphemia. "It's difficult to say. I certainly hope
no ill has befallen Sally, for her sake." He peered at Sirius shrewdly over his spectacles. "By
the way, Sirius — you may call me 'Fleamont' if you don't mind."

Sirius froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Er… right, that's — Fleamont, yeah —"

"Godric's mane, Padfoot," said James. "Just call him 'dad' already and be done with it. We've
already practically adopted you."

"If you were a few years younger we would have," said Euphemia, relaxing a bit now that
they had moved on to a lighter topic. "It's a bit late now since you are of age, but I hope you
know that we consider you family, Sirius."

Sirius didn't respond; his face felt uncomfortably hot.

"Speaking of," said James as Lottie the house-elf began to clear their plates, "What'd you get
Sirius for his birthday?"

Sirius kicked at James under the table. "Have some tact, will you?"

Euphemia smiled. "It is time for presents, isn't it?" She rose from the table, but Lottie tugged
on her sleeve and gestured for her to sit down, then sped out of the room. The house-elf
returned only seconds later, holding a simple black box. She set it in front of Sirius and
bowed low, backing into the hallway.
Sirius stared at the box. He glanced at Euphemia. "You really didn't have to —"

"Sirius," said James, "for the love of — "

Euphemia shushed him. "Don't thank us until you open it," she told Sirius. The wrinkles
around her eyes grew deeper as she smiled warmly at him.

Sirius lifted the smooth lid of the box, and his eyes widened. Inside was a watch, but it didn't
look like the kind that most wizards received on their seventeenth birthday. Generally,
wizarding watches had multiple faces that charted the lunar cycle, or hands that told location
as well as time, or a timer that ticked down to some unknown, usually fortuitous, future
event. This watch only had one face, encased in gold and attached to a reddish-brown leather
band, but it still looked exquisitely well-made.

"It's called an Elgin," said Fleamont when Sirius didn't say anything. "It's a Muggle brand;
they only make them in America. It doesn't have many additional features — as far as I'm
aware, it only tells the hour — but I know you like that old Muggle watch of yours, so…"

Sirius tried to examine the watch's hands, but it was difficult because his eyesight had gone
all blurry. He sniffed. In an instant, Euphemia was on her feet, but James reached Sirius
before she did and threw his arms around him. "We love you, mate. I love you."

Sirius leaned into the brittle weight of Euphemia's arms as she joined the hug. A hand that
must have been Fleamont's landed on his shoulder and squeezed a little.

"Our hope," said Fleamont in his grave, kind voice, "is that this birthday marks a new start
for you. Your family casts a long shadow, but now you are free."

Sirius swiped at his eyes. "Thank you." He twisted a little, just enough to look at the Potters.
"I love you, too."

After Lottie had finished clearing the table, James and Sirius ran up the stairs and into
Fleamont's study. James thought that dinner had gone quite well, all things considered. Sirius
had even shown emotion apart from anger or melancholy. That counted as a success in James'
book.

In the study, James fished around in his bag and pulled out a quill with scraggly feathers that
had been snapped in half. "What time is it?"

"Five till nine," answered Sirius. He grinned as he twisted his wrist back and forth,
examining the way his new watch caught the light. "Your parents are bloody amazing, by the
way."

"'Course they are," said James. "They're the best."

Sirius was still fixated on his watch. "Your dad went all the way to America to get this, I
suppose?" He sounded casually disinterested, but James knew Sirius too well to be fooled by
his tone of voice.

"Most likely. Anything for their second son."

Sirius' head snapped up. "Come off it. Your parents are good to me, but they don't — that's
completely…"

He trailed off as the grandfather clock in the corner the study let out a solemn chime. James
lunged forward and dragged Sirius' wrist to the quill just in time. He felt a strong tug around
his abdomen, and Sirius yelped. The grandfather clock seemed to cut off mid-toll as they
vanished.

They reappeared at the end of a long queue that stretched from a red ticket window to over
halfway across a car park. James' knees buckled as he hit the concrete, and he nearly knocked
over the man at the end of the queue.

The man turned with a disapproving frown, and James tried to look apologetic. "Erm, sorry,
sir — my friend pushed me…"

The man grumbled something that sounded like 'youth' before turning back around. Sirius
nudged James in the ribs and gestured towards the ticket window, where three Muggles in
uniform were taking funny-looking paper banknotes and passing out tickets.

"Brilliant, we made it," said James. "I wonder if the others are already here?"

Sirius was staring past the ticket window at the enormous wheel with dazzling neon lights
that towered over the theme park. "I think I can see people in the passenger cars! This is
wicked."

"Nice Muggle slang," said James. "Very natural." He craned his neck. Past the big wheel,
there was what looked to be a convoluted train track with a steep hill, held hundreds of feet
above the ground by wooden scaffolding.

When they reached the front of the queue, James reached for his wand, intending to Confund
the Muggle behind the ticket window, but Sirius put a hand on his arm. "No need," he said
brightly, pulling a wad of banknotes from his back pocket.

James' mouth fell slightly open as he watched Sirius shove the money at the Muggle
attendant. "Whatever happened to being skint?"

"Leftover from the summer," explained Sirius. "I exchanged a lot of Galleons for Muggle
money in August. Y'know, when I still had access to the vaults." He was watching the
attendant sift through the banknotes with a look that was almost hungry.

"You genuinely like Muggle stuff, don't you?" asked James once the attendant had waved
them through. "I thought you were just putting on an act to get under your parents' skin,
but…"
"Of course I do," said Sirius, whose head was turning back and forth as they entered the
theme park. He seemed more interested in the crowds of Muggles than the rows of brightly
coloured game booths lining the street. "This is a completely different culture than ours. It's
cool." He swept out his arms and indicated the towering big wheel and its illuminated,
slowly-turning spokes.

"There you are!" said a voice. James turned; Remus was sitting on the edge of a large,
circular fountain filled with jets of water that grew increasingly taller towards the centre.
Beside him, Peter was trying to toss a handful of Knuts into the centre jets.

"You lot made it here alright, then?" asked Sirius, loping towards them.

Remus nodded. "We snuck everyone down the tunnel that leads to Honeydukes and took the
Portkey once we were in Hogsmeade. No problems whatsoever."

"Where's the others?" asked James.

Peter threw a Knut into the fountain. "The girls are at a game booth that's offering an
enormous stuffed lion as a prize." He tossed another coin, which landed with a splash. "I
suspect the thing's rigged, though. And I think the Quidditch team are trying one of the
coasters."

"Roller coasters, Pete," said Sirius. "And the booths aren't rigged. Muggles believe in fairness
— with hard work and a little luck, everyone can win."

"You sound like a textbook," said Peter. "Brushed up on Muggle Studies before you came
here, did you?"

"Want to know what else I learned in Muggle Studies?" asked Sirius. He made an extremely
rude gesture, and Peter responded throwing a Knut at him. Sirius ducked, and the coin soared
over his shoulder, hitting a Muggle woman who was pushing a buggy.

"Sorry, ma'am," called James, laughing at Peter's look of horror. "Teenagers, you know…"

Sirius, Remus and Peter decided to see if they could help the girls win the stuffed lion. James
had a sneaking suspicion that the booths really were rigged, despite Sirius' insistence
otherwise, so he went to find the Quidditch team instead. He spotted Simon Ashworth
towering over the queue for the roller coaster and pushed his way through the crowd to reach
the rest of the team.

Peregrine Flint clapped a hand on James' back in greeting. "Alright, James? How's Sirius?"

"In his element," said James. "You ought to see the way he looks at the Muggles. I can't tell if
he wants to eat them or ask for an autograph."

Parvana giggled. Out of all of them, she looked the most convincingly Muggle in a long wool
coat and jeans. Peregrine, in contrast, was wearing a fluffy bathrobe over a pair of dungarees,
and Simon was dressed, incredibly, in what looked to be an orange boilersuit.

"I'm not even going to ask," said James with a pointed look at Simon's outfit.
Simon, at least, had the good sense to look sheepish. "My mum's house-elf ordered it for me.
From one of those, whaddaya call them, catalogues."

"I'd be interested in what catalogue she used," said James. "You look like a construction
worker."

"A what?"

"Never mind," said James. He turned to Parvana. "At least you look like you've set foot in
Muggle England before."

Parvana's cheeks darkened. "My nanny growing up was a Muggle. I know that sounds… I
mean, now, with things being how they are, it sounds…"

"A bit like pure-blood tosh?"

"Yeah," said Parvana. She gave him a small smile. "I really liked her, though. And she… I'm
not sure if she ever worked out what my family was, specifically, but she knew we were a bit
different. She made sure I got plenty of exposure to the… the Muggle world."

"Well, she did a good job," said James. "I think you look nice."

Peregrine wolf-whistled, and James shoved him good-naturedly. He stumbled backwards and
nearly into the Muggle attendant who was running the turnstile; they'd reached the front of
the queue for the roller coaster.

"This is going to be great," said Simon appreciatively as he climbed into the nearest car. He
had to fold his long legs nearly to his chest to fit. "Imagine… in a minute we'll be going full
speed down that big hill…"

"You say that like you've never done a Wronski Feint before," said Parvana as she, James,
and Peregrine joined Simon in the car.

"Well, Simon plays Keeper, to be fair," said James. "I'm not sure he's ever moved more than
five feet on a broom in a single stretch."

"You'd better watch it," said Simon, nudging James' shoulder. "Wouldn't want you to have an
accident as we're hurtling towards the ground…"

"Speaking of," said Parvana, as the car gave a little jolt and began to trundle forward, "I think
this roller coaster's maximum speed is only sixty miles per hour."

"Sounds fast," said Simon.

"For a Keeper it is," said Parvana, and James snorted. "But I've done quicker on a training
broom. So I thought, if we wanted to speed things up a bit…" She reached into the sleeve of
her woolly coat and pulled out her wand.

James gawked at her. "You absolute madwoman."

Parvana merely smiled and set her wand across her lap.

The car moved jerkily along the track until it reached the base of the hill and began to climb
slowly towards the top. The rumble of the car grew louder — James was certain that magic
was less complicated than whatever mechanism was pulling the car steadily upwards — until
they had nearly reached the crest of the hill. James peered over the edge of the car. From this
height, the fluorescent lights of the game booths winked up at him like stars, and he
wondered if the girls had won their stuffed lion.

The car jerked forward. Its nose tilted slowly downward, and James took a breath. The hill
suddenly seemed much taller than it had from the ground. Beside him, Parvana whispered a
spell.

"If I piss myself, Parvana —" started Peregrine, but the rest of his words were cut off as they
plummeted towards the ground far below.

Faster and faster they went as they hurtled downward, gaining speed. Simon screamed. The
incline was so steep, surely the car would be flung off the tracks — there was a metallic
screech as the back wheels of the car came off the rails — the ground was rising to meet
them, they were going to crash —

The car slammed into the bottom of the hill and bounced, soaring off the tracks entirely and
into the air. Simon's scream turned into something that sounded like a sob. The car did a
corkscrew twist in midair, and James' stomach dropped as they were flipped upside down.
After a moment, the car righted itself and began to plummet once more towards the tracks
below. The cold night air rushed past James' face, and he whooped. Beside him, Parvana
laughed.

"I think I'm going to be sick," announced Simon several minutes later when the car finally
came to a halt at the entrance to the roller coaster. The perplexed Muggle attendant ushered
them off the ride immediately, muttering something about faulty brakes.

James' legs wobbled as they staggered off the platform. He grabbed onto Parvana's arm for
support. "That was fantastic."

Parvana patted James' hand as she checked her watch. "We reached a top speed of one
hundred and eighteen miles per hour," she said. "Excellent. I've only ever gotten up to one
hundred and twelve on my broom." She looked around brightly at the rest of the team, whose
faces were varying shades of green. "Who wants to go another round?"

"Where shall we go next?" asked Lily as she, Marlene and Mary left one of the brightly
coloured booths and began to stroll towards the fountain. Mary was carrying a stuffed lion
nearly as big as she was. At first, Lily had been reluctant to attend Sirius Black's birthday
party — it had seemed in poor taste to be celebrating, after the news that the Head Girl had
gone missing — but now that she was here, surrounded by the bright lights and the warm,
familiar smells of the Muggle world, she was glad to have come.

"Let's buy candy floss," said Marlene. "I've always wanted to try some."

"You've had Fairy Floss at Honeydukes," said Lily. "Candy floss is exactly the same.
Actually, it's worse, because it doesn't change colours."

Marlene waved a hand. "Don't spoil this for me. I wanna experience a traditional Muggle
sweet."

Lily laughed and steered them towards a large map of the park. "Candy floss…" she
muttered, running her finger down the map. There were so many attractions that it was
difficult to tell where they were.

Somebody else stepped up to the map, and their coat brushed against Lily's arm. "Sorry," she
said automatically, pulling away. She glanced at the stranger, who staring intently at the map.
He was tall and angular, with carefully styled hair —

Lily blinked. "Regulus?"

He didn't so much as look at her. "Don't give me away."

Lily was still staring at him. He was wearing a black jumper and a starched wool coat instead
of his usual tailored robes. He could have passed for a Muggle. "What are you doing here?"

"I think you know the answer to that." He traced the map with a finger much the same way
she had done, though his hand was shaking slightly. "Do you happen to know where my
brother is?"

"No, and I wouldn't tell you if I did," said Lily, irked that he was treating her coolly. "Why
did you come here? To ruin his birthday?"

Regulus glanced over his shoulder before responding, and Lily followed his gaze. Mary and
Marlene were sitting on the edge of the fountain and playing with the stuffed lion, paying
them no mind. They must have charmed the lion, because it was looking around dopily, its
tail twitching slightly.

"I overheard some of your House talking," said Regulus at last. "First about Sirius' birthday.
Then about a Muggle theme park in Lancashire."

"You —"

He lifted a shoulder. "It didn't take a genius to realise he was having his birthday at the theme
park. I couldn't figure out how your House was getting here, though. Portkey, or Floo, I
suppose?" He looked at her as if waiting for confirmation, but Lily said nothing. After a
moment, he continued. "Anyway, I ended up flying from Hogwarts. That took a few hours,
but here I am."
"Congratulations," said Lily icily. "Here you are. And now you want to cause family drama
on Sirius' birthday. Have I got that right?"

A hint of colour crept up Regulus' neck. "No. That's not — I just want to speak with him."

"About what?"

"You wouldn't understand. I just need —" He was rapidly losing the air of indifference he'd
been putting on. "Our family, they've been — and now —" He glanced again towards Mary
and Marlene.

"For God's sake," said Lily exasperatedly, looking around. There was a game booth a few
yards away that boasted a cheerful array of balloons which needed to be popped with darts.
She grabbed Regulus by the arm and dragged him around the corner of the booth. "I was right
that you're here on family business, then."

Regulus seemed to relax slightly once they were hidden from the crowd. "In a manner of
speaking."

"But Sirius is of age now, isn't he? Your family doesn't have any more say in what he does."

"I know," said Regulus. "That's another problem."

"How so?"

Regulus shifted his weight impatiently. "Look, I don't have time to get into details. And you
wouldn't understand, anyway, as you're a —"

"A what, exactly?"

Regulus met her gaze. "I wasn't going to use the word you're thinking of. We're not all like
that." He drew a deep breath through his nose, though it didn't seem to do much to steady his
nerves. "I only mean to say that you don't know what it's like, being from an old pure-blood
family — there are traditions. Responsibilities he ought to assume."

"Or else what?"

Regulus' mouth slanted downward into a frown. He looked as if he was considering the
possibility for the first time. "They'll — remove him from the family. It won't be pretty."

"I dunno," said Lily. "If I was from a Dark family I think I'd be glad to be rid of them. I bet
Sirius feels the same way."

Regulus was shaking his head. "That's not — he can't… I just want to talk to him, Lily. Do
you know where he is?"

Lily regarded Regulus critically. He looked desperate; maybe she could use that to her
advantage. "I'll tell you where Sirius is if you'll tell me what happened to Sally Dearborn."

Regulus blanched. He looked for a moment like he was going to be sick. "I don't know."
"Of course you don't. You show up in the hospital wing half-dead, then Sally gets into it with
you at the prefect meeting, and now she's missing. Awfully convenient, isn't it?"

"No. She wasn't — look, I really don't know, alright?"

"I don't believe you," said Lily. "I'm not an idiot. I know about your new friends. I know what
they're capable of."

Regulus' mouth twisted into a grimace. "I do, too. I'm sorry, Lily. I — I'm not sure what
happened to Sally."

"It's too bad you won't be honest with me," said Lily. "I'd tell you where Sirius is, otherwise."

"No, you wouldn't."

"I would've," said Lily. "But seeing as you have a problem with the truth, that offer's
rescinded now." Regulus flinched, and she softened a little. "Go back to Hogwarts, Regulus.
Don't let your family use you as a pawn to hurt Sirius. You're better than that."

Regulus gave her a pained look. "I'm not. If you knew — if you had any idea what I've —"

"Oh, spare me the self-hatred," said Lily, who had had quite enough of that from Severus
during fifth year. "You might go round with a bad crowd, but you're no Mulciber. Go home
and let Sirius enjoy his birthday."

Regulus rubbed at his forehead. "You're being too kind to me."

I'm not being kind," said Lily. "I'm being honest."

"Honesty is a dangerous thing."

"Only if you have something to hide."

Regulus lifted his head a little, meeting her eyes. Unlike Sirius, there was something about
his thin face that made him look so vulnerable.

"You can trust me," said Lily. She wasn't sure if that was true or not — she supposed it
depended on whatever secret he was holding on to so tightly — but it seemed like the right
thing to say.

His lips tightened, as if he'd made a decision, and he leaned towards her. "Lily," he said. His
voice was barely louder than a breath. "Be careful. I've had a letter from my cousin.
Hogwarts may not be safe."

Lily found herself whispering back. "I know it's not safe. Not if Sally…"

"Don't look for her," said Regulus. His voice was low and urgent. "You'll put yourself in
danger. Promise me."
Lily swallowed. If she reached out, she could have touched his sweater with her fingertips. "I
—"

"Regulus?" said a voice.

They sprang apart as quickly as if they had been pushed. Lily turned, and her stomach twisted
guiltily. Sirius was striding towards them, followed by Remus.

"Sirius," said Regulus quickly, "I just wanted to —"

Sirius had a purple butterfly painted on his cheek, but it didn't detract from his murderous
expression. "Get out."

Regulus didn't move. "I want to talk to you. Alone."

"Fat chance," said Sirius. His hand strayed towards his back pocket. "Leave before I make
you."

Regulus peered around the booth. The park was crowded with people wandering from one
attraction to another, clutching stuffed animals and all manner of sweets. "In plain view of
Muggles? You wouldn't — you're not that stupid, are you?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "Real nice, Regulus. Very clever. LEAVE."

"Not until you talk to me," said Regulus.

"Back in Mum's good books, are you?" asked Sirius nastily. "I expect she sent you to find out
when I'll stop by Grimmauld Place to assume my position as heir, did she? Well, the answer
is never, so you can bugger off and relay that back to her —"

Regulus paled. "You're not going back?"

"Of course not," said Sirius. He let out a cruel laugh at Regulus' expression. "Don't tell me
that's a surprise to you. After everything that happened this summer, did you actually expect
I'd —"

A soft hand slipped into Lily's. "What's going on?" asked Mary. Behind her, Marlene was
trying to balance both the stuffed lion and a massive amount of candy floss on a stick. "Is that
Sirius' brother?"

Lily nodded. "Family drama."

Sirius and Regulus were still going at it. "She'll burn you off the tapestry!" said Regulus, his
voice rising.

"No, she won't," said Sirius. He strode towards Regulus until they were nearly nose-to-nose,
and reached towards his back pocket. Lily instinctively put her hand over her own wand,
which was tucked into the waistband of her skirt. But when Sirius pulled his hand from his
pocket, Lily blinked. Were those —
"Letters," said Sirius in response to Regulus' dumbfounded look. "Every day, she sends me
letters. She's been begging me to come back. You expect me to buy that she'll burn me off the
tapestry?"

"She will," said Regulus, though he sounded less certain now. "She told me —"

"You should know better than to believe what she tells you," said Sirius. "She lies as often as
she breathes."

Regulus' eyes were fixed on the envelopes in Sirius' hand. "She's really — writing you? Nice
things?"

"Looks to be that way," said Sirius. "Tell me, what sort of correspondence is she sending you
these days?"

A flush crept up Regulus' pale neck. "That not fair —"

"We all heard the Howler," said Sirius. "Mummy's disappointed that her favourite son turned
out to be a coward, isn't she? No wonder she's giving me a second chance, considering you
turned out to be the weakest link —"

There was a flash of light, and Sirius went flying backwards. He collided into a popcorn
stand, which crumpled under his weight. In an instant, he was back on his feet, wand out. He
charged towards Regulus, who had emerged from behind the booth and was holding his wand
aloft. A few of the nearby Muggles had turned at the noise, looking for the source of the
commotion —

"Expelliarmus!" cried Lily at the same time as Remus. Sirius' wand flew out of his hand, and
Regulus' wand soared towards Lily. She caught Regulus' wand easily, while Sirius' wand
went to Remus. Sirius, surprised by the loss of his wand, stopped in his tracks.

Remus pocketed Sirius' wand coolly. "Come on, Padfoot. Let's go check out that booth with
the milk bottles, I've heard it's got excellent prizes —"

"I'm not leaving till he does," growled Sirius. He glared at Regulus, who looked murderous.
"I'm not turning my back on this Squib of a Black —"

Regulus started forward, but Lily put herself between him and Sirius. She turned to face
Sirius, her face hot with anger. "'Squib' isn't an insult," she said. "Don't let me catch you
using that kind of language again."

Sirius' eyes widened. "I only meant — you're right, of course it's not —"

"We'll take Regulus back to Hogwarts," said Lily, gesturing towards herself, Mary and
Marlene. "We can take our Portkey to Hogsmeade."

"Evans," began Sirius, but she had turned towards Remus.

"Don't give him back his wand."

"I wasn't planning on it," said Remus calmly.

Lily smiled a little. "We won the stuffed lion at the booth with the milk bottles, you know.
The one with the rifle turned out to be rigged."

"Excellent," said Remus, returning her smile. "We'll go to the one with the milk bottles, then,
see what we can get there." He put a hand on Sirius' shoulder and steered him away until they
both vanished into the crowd of Muggles.

Lily sighed and looked at Mary and Marlene, who was holding Regulus by the collar of his
jumper. She hated travelling by magic, but they had no other choice. "You've still got the
Portkey, Marly?"

Marlene fished around in her bag with her free hand and eventually pulled out a crinkled gum
wrapper. She set it on the ground, and, crouching, pulled her wand slightly out of her sleeve
and began to mutter an incantation.

"Ready," said Marlene after a minute. She, Lily and Mary each took a corner of the wrapper.
After a moment, Regulus, looking defeated, touched a finger to one of the wrapper's sides.
The Portkey began to glow brightly. Lily's body was yanked forward, and then she was
spinning, falling through space.

Sirius refused to acknowledge that the booth with the milk bottles was any fun at all. He
scowled the entire time Remus had a go at knocking over the bottles using a little white ball.
Finally, after winning a small stuffed dog (technically, the prize had been a stuffed monkey,
but a few charms from Remus while the Muggle attendant was distracted had fixed that
easily enough), Remus turned to Sirius with a sigh. "You're just going to sit there and pout,
then?"

"I'm not pouting," said Sirius sullenly.

Remus said nothing, which meant Sirius had to fill the silence with the truth. "Fine," he said.
"I am, a little. I just — I dunno where Reg gets off, coming here. Saying he wants to talk, as
if we can't talk perfectly well at Hogwarts. But no, we have to do it two hundred miles away
in bloody Lancashire instead…"

Remus held the stuffed dog out towards Sirius, and he eyed it sceptically. It was small and
black with soft-looking fur and mournful grey eyes. "That looks like Padfoot."

"I know," said Remus. "Happy birthday, Sirius."

Sirius grabbed it and crossed his arms. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said Remus, tossing the Muggle attendant at the booth a few coins.
"Fancy a drink or several?"
Sirius squeezed the dog tighter. "Now you're speaking my language."

They ended up on the roof of the ticket office, sharing a flask that Remus had hidden under
his coat. The theme park with all its dazzling lights stretched before them, packed with
Muggles who were laughing and eating and talking loudly. Sirius had spent all evening
looking for Dorcas in the crowd, but he hadn't seen her. It had been a long shot, anyway.
Lancashire was probably far from London, for a Muggle.

"Should I feel sorry?" asked Sirius, setting down the flask. By all rights, they should have
finished it by now, but somehow the little metal container remained nearly full.

"For what?" asked Remus. "Nearly breaking the Statute of Secrecy during your attempted
duel with your brother?"

Sirius reached over and jostled him. "You know for what."

Remus smiled a little. His eyes were on the big wheel which loomed over them, bright and
round like a neon moon. "You really got under Regulus' skin, didn't you?"

Sirius grunted. "He shouldn't have come here."

"No," agreed Remus. "He shouldn't have. But you can't honestly be surprised that he did."

Sirius shrugged and reached for the flask. "Well, I'm not sorry for being horrible to him, even
if I ought to be. He's the same with me, sometimes. Knows just what to say."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me. I never said you had to be sorry."

Sirius fiddled with the cap of the flask. "I don't know why I do things sometimes. When I saw
him... I wanted to make him angry. I lied to him, too." He pulled the letters out of his pocket.
"I told him our mum's been begging me to come home, but I honestly don't know what these
letters say. I haven't read them. Haven't read any since the first."

Remus was watching Sirius now, with that expression he sometimes got — like he was trying
to see down to Sirius' bones. "Why not?"

"Because they're from her."

"Your mum?"

"Yeah." Sirius sighed. "Regulus and I get under each other's skin, but we're nothing compared
to our mum. She uses words like a weapon. She knows exactly what to say to get the results
she wants. Whatever she's written, it'll hurt. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the lot of them." He
leaned into Remus, resting his head on Remus' shoulder.

Remus tensed. "Regulus… that is…" He sounded a little unsteady. "Regulus said something
about your responsibilities as heir. What was that about, exactly?"

"My responsibilities? Nothing exciting. I'm supposed to help my father manage the family
fortune — making investments, that sort of thing. But I won't do it. I won't go back to
Grimmauld Place."

A crease formed between Remus' eyebrows. "You want them to disown you."

"Yes," said Sirius.

"Because of the way they've treated you?"

"Because I hate them." The dark, ugly truth rose like bile in his throat. "I wish I didn't, but I
do. I truly do." He flopped onto his back, and the rough tiling of the roof caught against the
fabric of his coat. After a moment, Remus lay down beside him. Sirius searched the sky,
trying to make out the constellations, but the lights from the theme park were so bright that
night was endlessly black.

Sirius spoke first. "You and I… we're alright, aren't we? You'd tell me if we weren't?"

"Padfoot." Remus sounded half-exasperated. "Trust me. We're fine."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Even though, last year — I…"

"Forgiven," said Remus firmly. "You made a mistake. You apologised. That's all there is to
it."

"You don't make mistakes."

"Tell that to the P I got on McGonagall's essay on Switching Spells."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." There was an aeroplane far above them. Its
yellow lights winked as it moved across the sky. "All I do is make mistakes," said Sirius.
"You. Dorcas. Reg. I hurt people. And I know when I'm about to do it. I know I'm making a
mistake. I just don't care."

"To be fair, your childhood didn't exactly include morality lessons."

"That's no excuse," said Sirius. He sat upright, suddenly angry, and jabbed a finger at Remus.
"You've been a werewolf since you were five. Your childhood was worse than mine and Reg's
put together, and somehow you're not bitter. You don't hurt people. You don't hate anyone.
You're good."

Remus' voice was as calm as pond water. "I'm bitter."

"No, you're not. You're good, and you always do the right thing, and I don't know why you
hang around arseholes like me when — when —"

Remus picked up the flask and turned it over in his hands. "How much have you had to drink
tonight, Pads?"
 "Hush. We're talking about you."

Remus didn't respond for a long minute. "Since you've been so forthcoming tonight," he said
at last, "I'll let you know something about me." He sat up and turned to face Sirius directly.
"I'm a coward. I'm afraid of everything."

"You're not a coward," said Sirius immediately. "Moony, you —"

"There's no need to flatter me," said Remus. He fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper, pulling
at a fraying thread. "I'm afraid of you lot abandoning me. I'm afraid of my secret getting out.
I'm afraid of the moon." They both glanced up, nearly reflexively, at the moon, which hung
heavy and bright in the sky.

"Look," said Sirius. "I know the self-loathing thing is very Moony, and all, but if you're a
coward, then I am too."

"Come off it," said Remus. "You might be a bit hard-headed, but you're not —"

"You think I'm not afraid of my family? Of what would have happened if I'd listened to
whatever rubbish Reg had to say tonight? I can't even open my mum's letters —"

"That's different," said Remus. "Those are rational fears."

"Your fears are rational, too."

"They're really not," said Remus. "All I've got is a bunch of useless worries running around
my head."

Sirius glanced at Remus. He looked as composed and as kind as he always did. "You do a
good job of hiding it."

Remus gave him a small, sad smile. "I'm good at hiding things." He stood and stretched a
hand towards Sirius, helping him to his feet. "Let's go back to the others before they start to
wonder where we've gone."

Chapter End Notes

I've had some really lovely comments the past few weeks, so I just wanted to say a
heartfelt thanks to those who have commented! I'm glad that people are enjoying the
journey with these characters as much as I am :)
 The Muggle-Born Protection Act
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

In the week that followed, Professor Slughorn called each of the Followers into his office
separately to question them about the night Sally Dearborn disappeared. He was clearly
attempting to be tough on them and actually took two points from Slytherin when Severus
told him, honestly, that he didn't know what had happened to Sally. Students from other
Houses were speculating that Sally's father had pulled her out of Hogwarts to protect her
from being a political target, but after being interrogated by Slughorn, Severus was certain
they were wrong. Professor Slughorn wasn't much of an actor, and worry had been written
into every wrinkle of his soft face. No, Sally's disappearance had been unplanned; Severus
was certain of that much.

Mulciber signed the Followers up for a search party in the dungeons, which was largely a
farce. Instead of combing the dungeons like the other search parties, the Followers spent the
hour eating sandwiches and doing Potions homework in the unused laboratory in Dungeon
Four while a pair of pathetic-looking house-elves waited on them. The whole thing was so
pointless that even Regulus Black didn't bother to attend. He likely preferred to mope about
his dormitory, as he'd been doing since the previous weekend. Severus, being well-acquainted
with the benefits of a good brood, left him to it. He wasn't missing much; Severus himself
was only able to stave off boredom by making extensive corrections to Avery's homework.

"Did Slughorn have the same look on his face when he was questioning you lot?" asked
Mulciber, gesturing for one of the house-elves to refill his mug of Butterbeer. "I thought he
needed the loo, he looked constipated…"

Rosier laughed. "Who knew he had such a soft spot for blood traitors? He seemed to actually
be worried about Dearborn…"

"Well, he should be," said Mulciber. "She was an obvious target, what with her Muggle-
loving father making headlines and all. It was only a matter of time before someone got to
her."

That was interesting. Severus paused, his quill hovering over Avery's parchment.

"Who d'you reckon did her in?" asked Wilkes. Mulciber raised his eyebrows, saying nothing,
and Avery's eyes bugged out.

"You didn't — when you left the Great Hall…"

"More sandwiches please, house-elf," said Mulciber, ignoring Avery's spluttering.

Severus resisted the urge to hurl an inkwell at the lot of them. He contented himself instead
with crossing out another large swath of Avery's essay. Mulciber could make insinuations all
day long, but that didn't mean Severus believed him. It was so like Mulciber to act more
important than he was. All the same, if he had somehow managed to hurt Sally, and Severus
could prove it… Mulciber would surely be expelled, and then the role of mentor would pass
to Severus by default. It was worth looking into.

Before leaving Dungeon Four, Severus slipped an extra sandwich into his bag and went to
check on Regulus. He rapped impatiently at the fifth year dormitory door, but there was no
response.

Severus tried the handle, but the door had been bolted from the other side. He rubbed his
forehead and sighed. "I don't have time for this, Regulus."

After a moment, there was a scraping sound as the bolt was drawn back, and the door swung
open. "I didn't ask you to come," said Regulus. He looked surprisingly well, considering that
his constitution was frail at baseline and he was on his third skipped lunch of the week.

Severus withdrew the sandwich from his bag. "You have to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

Severus had expected this and decided to leverage Regulus' incomprehensible love of sport
against him. "I'm surprised you don't want to eat, considering the upcoming match against
Gryffindor. Do you want your brother's House to win?"

Regulus looked for a moment like he was going to protest, but then his eyes narrowed. "Since
when do you care about Quidditch?"

"I don't," said Severus. "But you do. So eat."

Regulus reluctantly took the sandwich. "Thanks." He took a bite, and his nose wrinkled
slightly. "I don't like liverwurst."

"Neither do I. That's why I saved it for you."

Regulus shrugged. "Fair enough." He took another bite of sandwich.

"I'm not going to ask why you've been moping around, because I don't care," said Severus.
"But if you decide to lock yourself away tomorrow as well, I'll endeavour to bring ham and
cheese."

"I'm not locking myself away," muttered Regulus. "Thanks, though."

"So," said Severus, feeling he'd buttered up Regulus as much as he was capable, "did you and
Avery help Mulciber murder Sally Dearborn?"

Regulus choked on his sandwich. What followed was a long minute of coughing until
Severus finally conjured a glass of water and shoved it into Regulus' hand.

"Thanks," said Regulus weakly after gulping down the water. "And no. We didn't help
Mulciber murder Sally Dearborn. By the Baron, Severus, your mind must be twisted if you
think — even the possibility —"
"It was only logical. I figured being an accessory to murder was a plausible explanation for
your sudden mood."

"Did you, now," said Regulus waspishly.

"Well, even if you didn't murder her, there's still the possibility that Avery and Mulciber —"

"No, there isn't," said Regulus. "Edmund didn't do anything, at least. I was with him the
whole time."

"Obviously," said Severus. "Avery's got even less initiative than you have, he's a complete
sycophant. The most likely culprit is still Mulciber."

"Sure," said Regulus, "but you wouldn't think — I can't imagine that a student could get away
with murdering another student. Not at Hogwarts."

"What about the Chamber of Secrets, thirty years ago?" countered Severus. The story was
well-known in Slytherin, as it was usually told to frighten first years. "The giant gamekeeper
with his Acromantula, and the girl in the bathroom — nobody would have figured out he'd
done it if the Head Boy hadn't had a hunch…"

Regulus frowned. "I suppose."

"Let us pray Chester Fernsby is similarly talented at investigating," said Severus sarcastically,
but Regulus didn't smile. "What? You don't want the Head Boy to save the day? He might be
awarded a trophy, like the last one was —"

"That isn't funny. We don't know where Sally is, she could be — it isn't right to make jokes
—"

"There's also no need to wallow in your dormitory until she's found," Severus pointed out.
"It's possible to be concerned for her safety and still eat regular meals. The two aren't
mutually exclusive, you know."

Regulus shot him a sharp look. "You wouldn't know the first thing about being concerned for
others."

It was only with great effort that Severus avoided thinking about a certain girl with red hair
and a laugh like flowing water. "Is that so?"

"You said that you prioritise self-preservation over all else. That you'd place your own well-
being over mine every time, if I recall. Did I get that right?"

"Yes," said Severus peevishly, "but I am still capable of — look at the sandwich in your hand,
for God's sake, and tell me I'm not concerned —"

"You care about me because you want to stay in Bella's good graces," said Regulus, "but I
don't believe for a second that you're actually worried about Sally. And what about
Mulciber?"
Severus frowned. "Why would I be concerned about Mulciber?"

"I'd think it would be obvious," said Regulus. "He's not one for half measures — either he
killed Sally or he didn't. If he did, Dumbledore will figure it out, and he'll be expelled. If he
didn't —"

"...She'll have gotten away," finished Severus. "And I suppose Bella won't be pleased."

Regulus' expression was grim. "I've been writing to her. And she won't be."

"You've heard from her?" Severus tried to tamp down the surge of jealousy threatening to
overtake him. "Recently? You've told her about Sally?"

"No," said Regulus at once, "no, not about Sally, it's — it's family matters." He flushed.
"Sirius came of age recently, and I'm trying — well, he's supposed to — my parents expect,
and if we can buy a bit of time, I'm hoping he'll — and I've got another cousin who Bella says
is —"

Severus mentally reviewed the steps to brewing the Draught of Living Death while Regulus
rattled on. He had no desire to hear the sordid details of Sirius Black's personal problems.

"Anyway," concluded Regulus at last, "Bella's paying Mulciber a visit tonight, so depending
on what happens I guess we'll know if he had a hand in Sally's disappearance or not."

"Really?" asked Severus. "How is she getting to Hogwarts?"

Regulus looked at Severus strangely. "In the unmonitored Floo of Dungeon Thirteen, I'm
assuming."

Severus kept his expression neutral, not wanting to give away his surprise that Dungeon
Thirteen boasted an unmonitored Floo. In hindsight, it made perfect sense. He'd have thought
of it earlier, except he had woefully little experience with magical means of transportation.
That was the curse of being a half-blood, he supposed.

That night, after the other Followers went to bed, Severus ducked behind a high-backed
armchair in the common room just long enough to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself.
Then he slipped out the entrance to the common room and slunk silently to Dungeon
Thirteen. The room was dark and eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle from the green
embers glowing in the hearth. Severus crouched behind one of the pristine white sofas and
waited.

One hour passed. Then two. Severus wished he'd thought to bring his Potions book; he could
have at least gotten some work done while he waited.

Finally, at nearly a quarter to one, the door to Dungeon Thirteen creaked open. Mulciber,
wearing dark green pyjamas, padded over to the fireplace and tossed what must have been
Floo powder in it. The fire flared brightly, bathing the room in flickering emerald light.
Severus shrank back on instinct, though with his Disillusionment Charm he was quite certain
he was effectively invisible.
Mulciber leaned over the fireplace, put one hand on the mantle, and muttered something
indistinct. After a moment he pulled back, and Bella stepped out of the flames. She was taller
and noticeably thinner than the last time Severus had seen her.

"Well?" she asked. The flames carved deep shadows into the angle of her jaw.

"Dearborn's been taken care of," said Mulciber.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I took care of her."

Bella arched a single, haughty eyebrow. "You alone?"

"That's right." Mulciber's chest swelled self-importantly. "I caught her off-guard on
Halloween. One Killing Curse was all it took. What's left of her is behind a tapestry on the
third floor."

Bella smiled and cupped his face between her long-fingered hands. "Augustus. My darling."

Mulciber gave what he clearly thought was a modest shrug. Bella tilted his face towards hers,
and for a moment it looked like she was going to kiss him. Then her lips brushed past his
cheek, and she whispered into his ear. "You lie."

She moved so quickly Mulciber didn't have a chance to react. With a few swift movements of
her wand, Mulciber was suspended in the air as if by an invisible noose. He gagged as his
hands scrabbled at his neck.

The muscles in Bella's wiry arms were taut as she pointed her wand at him. "You think you
can lie to me, Augustus? To ME?"

Mulciber made a choking noise that might have been a 'no'. Bella jerked her wand upward,
her face contorted with fury, and Mulciber collapsed in a heap on the ground.

"Your mind betrays you," she spat.

Mulciber's voice was hoarse. "Bella… I —"

"You have failed me. Again and again, you have failed me."

"Bellatrix," panted Mulciber. "Please."

She stooped and pressed her wand into his cheek. "CRUCIO."

It was nearly morning before Bella grew bored and vanished into the fire, her long black
robes swirling behind her. Mulciber lay unmoving on the floor for so long that Severus
almost considered intervening; eventually, though, Mulciber managed to pull himself upright
and staggered out of Dungeon Thirteen. After another half hour of waiting, just to be certain,
Severus followed suit. As he headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast, Mulciber's screams
echoed in his mind like a particularly disturbing melody.
Mulciber had been stupid to think he could lie to Bella, but their midnight meeting had
certainly been enlightening. If he truly hadn't ambushed Sally on Halloween, then that
narrowed the list of potential culprits down to the other Followers — or Dumbledore, or
Sally's father, of course. Severus doubted one of the other Followers had tried anything;
Wilkes and Rosier were capable of violence but unmotivated, while Avery and Regulus were
too neurotic to draw a wand on Sally without soiling themselves first. As for Dumbledore,
that old warlock was always seven steps ahead of everyone else. Severus wouldn't have been
surprised in the least if Dumbledore had conspired with Caradoc Dearborn to take Sally away
from Hogwarts for her safety. In fact, this was what had likely happened, considering the
news that Sally was missing hadn't even made the Prophet.

Mulciber didn't attend any classes that day, so Severus was forced to go to their dormitory to
talk to him. He hovered over Mulciber's sleeping form like a bat for nearly five minutes,
hoping the force of his glare would wake him, but Mulciber didn't stir.

"Augustus," said Severus at last. "Wake up."

Mulciber let out a long groan before rolling over. He recoiled as he realised who was
speaking to him. "What do you want?"

"It's time for our ritual," said Severus.

Mulciber grunted and turned away from him. "Today's ritual is cancelled. Go stick your
greasy nose in your Potions book or something."

"You wound me," said Severus, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mulciber made a rude gesture at him. "Go away, Snape."

Severus didn't move. After a moment, Mulciber groaned with frustration and threw a pillow
at him. "What is wrong with you? I said GO AWAY."

"You were stupid to lie to Bella."

Mulciber's heavy brow furrowed. "Who told you —"

"It's obvious," said Severus. "I don't feel sorry for you at all. You should have known better
than to lie to her."

"Snape, I am half a second away from hexing you —"

"Terrifying." Severus' voice was as smooth as poisoned honey. "I just wanted to congratulate
you. Keep up the good work, Augustus."

"The…" Mulciber blinked.

"When do you think Bella will decide we need someone a little more capable as our mentor?"
Severus took a certain savage pleasure at the way Mulciber's eyes widened. Apparently, the
idea hadn't occurred to him. "I'm predicting one more blunder will do the trick. What say
you?"
"You're delusional," spat Mulciber. "You think Bella would pick you over me? You're
nothing. Your blood's dirtier than a house-elf's, nobody in their right mind would take orders
from you —"

Severus' mouth twisted angrily, and he drew his wand. "You dare —"

"Go ahead," said Mulciber. "Hex me with one of your little spells. It doesn't change the facts.
You're only a Follower because Lucius felt sorry for you —"

Severus cursed Mulciber with a particularly uncomfortable facial rash and stormed out of the
dormitory. The spell would wear off in an hour or two, so he wasn't overly concerned. It was
better than what Mulciber deserved.

Lily perched on a windowsill in a seventh-floor corridor, alternating between working on her

Charms essay about the five principles of colour-changing and watching the Gryffindor
Quidditch team practice for their upcoming match against Slytherin. She chewed on the end
of her quill, then dipped it into her inkwell and began her second paragraph. The desired
colour must be a compliment of the base hue, she wrote. To obtain shades outside this range,
multiple charms must be precisely layered according to…

She glanced out the window. Half a mile away, on the Quidditch pitch, the Gryffindor
Chasers were practising some sort of complicated manoeuvre. A blur of crimson leathers that
looked to be James Potter broke away from the group and did a few loops around one of the
goalposts.

Lily hoped they could beat Slytherin next week. She hoped they humiliated Slytherin. She
could feel in her gut that Mulciber's group had a hand in Sally Dearborn's disappearance. She
would bet every Galleon of her Hogwarts stipend on it.

"Lily?"

She blinked, turning away from the window. Mary MacDonald was looking up at her, a copy
of the Daily Prophet clutched tightly in her hands. "Mary. What's wrong?"

Mary shook her head. "Nothing. It's, erm, it's good news."

Lily bent her knees to her chest to make room for Mary on the windowsill, and Mary hoisted
herself up to sit beside her. "If it's good news, then why do you look like someone died?"

"Oh," said Mary. Her voice was much higher than usual. "It's just… It's the Muggle-born
Protection Act. It passed." She thrust the rumpled copy of the Prophet towards Lily.

Lily unfolded the newspaper. Emblazoned on the front page was a photo of Caradoc
Dearborn, who looked weary but triumphant as he raised a hand towards the camera. Below
him, in bold letters, the headline read: Muggle-Born Protection Act Approved by House of
Lords, to Become Law.

"Wow," said Lily. Her voice sounded hollow. "That's brilliant."

"Yeah," said Mary, wrapping her arms around her knees. "It is, I guess."

They looked at each other. Mary's brown eyes were large with worry, and Lily knew she must
look similar. "What are we going to do, Mary?"

Mary's eyes welled with tears. "I don't know. I don't want my family to have to — to hide, or
move, or leave Middlesbrough because of me. I'd rather go back to the Muggle world."

"You don't mean that!"

"I do," said Mary, although tears were running down her cheeks. "I'm not like you. I'm not
good at magic. I was never going to be anything impressive. I could rejoin the Muggle world,
get a normal job… I was thinking I'd quite like to be a flight attendant…"

Lily could feel her heart breaking. "Do you really think you could leave all this behind?"

"I don't know. Maybe it'll just be for a bit. Until everything with that Dark wizard blows
over."

Poor Mary, thought Lily. Poor, naive Mary. "You know it won't be that simple."

Mary sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "McGonagall wants to meet with all of us
— the Gryffindors with Muggle parents, I mean — this evening to talk about what comes
next. For our families. So we know our options."

Lily looked back down at the Daily Prophet. "They're still not releasing the details of the Act
publicly?" Mary shook her head, and Lily bit her lip. "I suppose that's a good thing. It'll keep
that information from falling into the wrong hands."

"I guess," said Mary. She checked her watch and clambered off the windowsill. "I've got to
go to Muggle Studies. See you this evening?"

Lily hopped off the windowsill and threw her arms around Mary. They held each other tightly
for a long minute. "It'll be okay," murmured Lily as she smoothed Mary's hair. She wasn't
sure if she was trying to comfort Mary or herself. "Everything's going to be alright."

Later that evening, Lily knocked on the door of Professor McGonagall's office, and the door
swung open of its own accord. The office had been rearranged; Professor McGonagall's desk
was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a circle of twelve chairs in the middle of the room.

"Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall, who was sitting in one of the chairs, her back
ramrod straight. "Please have a seat."

Lily sat down with a glance at the other Gryffindors. The majority of them were younger
students who she recognised but didn't know the names of, although there were a few older
students as well. Mary was seated next to Professor McGonagall, and she gave Lily a little
smile, looking considerably more cheerful than she had earlier.

Peregrine Flint patted Lily on the back as she sat in the unoccupied chair beside him. "Evans.
Good to see you."

Lily gave a start. "Peregrine? Aren't you — I thought —" His family was definitely one of the
Sacred Twenty-Eight, weren't they? What was he doing here?

Peregrine grinned at her confusion, and the freckles on his cheeks bunched up. "My little
sister's a Squib."

"Ah!" said Lily, flushing. "I'm sorry — I had no idea."

Peregrine shrugged. "Nobody does. The official story is we sent her off to Beauxbatons last
year. Though 'Beauxbatons' in this case means 'Wycombe Abbey.'" His grin widened.

A tiny first year girl with skin as pale as alabaster scurried into the last empty chair with a
frightened glance at Professor McGonagall, and Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.
"Good of you to join us, Miss Roberts. Now that we're all here, let us begin." Her tone was
brisk as she shuffled the papers on her lap. "As I am sure you're all aware, the House of Lords
approved the Muggle-born Protection Act this morning. The Minister for Magic, Harold
Minchum, is expected to sign the Act into law sometime in the coming weeks. Professor
Dumbledore has asked all the Heads of House to meet with our respective students with
immediate family members who are Muggles to discuss the next steps."

Lily didn't like the sound of any of this, and by the looks on the other students' faces, she
wasn't the only one. She raised her hand in the air. "Professor? When you say 'next steps', do
you mean… Does Dumbledore want us to comply with this Act?"

Professor McGonagall's expression was grave. "He thinks it would be wise. The situation is
even more dire than the Prophet has been reporting."

"Really, Professor?" said Peregrine, whose grin had vanished. "Because it's bad enough what
they're printing already, about the random disappearances of Muggles…"

"Those disappearances are not random," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "The Death
Eaters — a group I would hope you all are familiar with — are targeting Muggles with
connections to the Wizarding World. With connections to the Ministry, to be exact."

Lily felt like she couldn't breathe. "Like Sally."

McGonagall's eyes flashed towards her. "Exactly like Miss Dearborn. Several members of the
House of Mages have personally lost loved ones as a result, and at least one member of the
House of Lords. These" —her nostrils flared— "these despicable murders are an act of
cowardice intended to pressure the Ministry into retracting the Muggle-born Protection Act.
They have not succeeded. This is in large part because, despite the opinion of a handful of
radicals, the rest of us believe that you belong here." Her hawkish eyes swept over each
student as she spoke, blazing with conviction, and a lump hardened in Lily's throat.
Peregrine was frowning. "Who in the House of Lords lost a family member? I didn't hear
anything about that, and, y'know, my uncle's a Lord…" He trailed off, seeming embarrassed
to have brought up his family's status to room full of Muggle-borns.

Professor McGonagall eyed Peregrine sharply. "Flint, you are an intelligent young man.
Which family of the Twenty-Eight makes the most obvious target for these cretins?"

Peregrine's shoulders sagged. "The Weasleys."

Lily recognised the surname, as there had been several Weasleys on the Gryffindor Quidditch
team during her first years at Hogwarts. Aside from their bright red hair, they hadn't stood out
much to her. Why would they be a target for Death Eaters?

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly, acknowledging Peregrine's response, and began to pass
around the stack of papers she was holding. "All Muggles who can prove ties to the
Wizarding World have several options. The first, which the Ministry most highly
recommends, is resettlement."

A small squeak escaped the pale first year's throat. Professor McGonagall glanced sharply at
her. "Do you have something to say, Miss Roberts?"

The girl shook her head quickly, looking at her feet. The other students were similarly trying
to avoid Professor McGonagall's gaze. Well, fine, thought Lily. If she and Peregrine had to be
the designated spokespeople, then so be it. Lily raised her hand.

"What do you mean by 'resettlement', Professor? Will my mum have to move to Leicester, or
—"

"Not Leicester, Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall, who looked like she was trying to
phrase things delicately. "The Ministry is recommending America."

Several students gasped. "You're joking," said Peregrine. "America? But you can't even Floo
there… For how long?"

Professor McGonagall shut her eyes briefly. "These resettlements are a great undertaking on
the part of the Ministry and the Magical Congress of the United States, Flint. It involves not
only the forging of papers, but the creation of a whole new identity. Those who resettle will
appear to always have lived in America and will have no ties whatsoever to Britain. Such
resettlement would be permanent."

Peregrine kicked the leg of his chair with his heel, looking furious. "And would we be
allowed to visit, at least?"

"Peregrine Flint," said Professor McGonagall softly, "surely you know the answer to that
question already."

Lily's throat was completely dry. "So that's the — the recommended option," she said. "What
other choices do we have?"
"Safe houses," said Professor McGonagall. "Fidelius charms. Obliviation. It's all in the
paperwork, if you look it over."

"Fidelius…?"

"It's a spell that makes a secret out of someone's location," said Professor McGonagall. "Only
those privy to the secret can find the person in question."

That didn't sound very impressive to Lily. She wasn't about to ask her mum to play a version
of magical Hide-and-Seek with the Death Eaters. "Okay," she said, folding the papers and
putting them into her bag. "I'll talk to my mum over the Christmas holidays and see what she
thinks about all this."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "If your mother has questions" —her eyes swept the room—
"if any of your family members have questions, I would be more than happy to answer them.
I am available by owl or Floo at any time, and I can make house visits if necessary."

"You should visit my family," grumbled Peregrine, "and talk them out of sending my sister to
bloody America."

"Rest assured that we will discuss all the options," said Professor McGonagall. She stood up
and smoothed her tartan robes. "Back to Gryffindor Tower, then, all of you. It's getting late."

Lily hung back while the rest of the students filed out. "Professor," she ventured, as Professor
McGonagall was shutting the door.

"Yes, Miss Evans?"

"I have a question."

"If it's about the Muggle-born Protection Act, then I must ask that it wait," said Professor
McGonagall. She drew her wand and began to return her office to its normal arrangement. "I
know the contents of the Act are very upsetting, so I think you ought to sleep on it before we
discuss in greater depth—"

"It's about Sally Dearborn, Professor."

Professor McGonagall's wand stilled. The furniture that had been puttering around the room
came to a halt. "And what," she said after a moment, "pray tell, is the question?"

Lily spoke quickly so she wouldn't lose her nerve. "There's all these rumours about what
might have happened to her — because of who her father is, you know. Some think she's
gotten hurt, but most people are saying her father pulled her out of Hogwarts and is keeping it
quiet. But I saw Caradoc Dearborn's picture in the papers, and he doesn't look happy, does
he? You'd think that if his proposal passed and his daughter were safe, he would look less
worried."

The chairs resumed their scurrying around the room as Lily spoke. She peered at Professor
McGonagall, who appeared to be focusing intently on the rearrangement of her office. "I am
still waiting for your question, Miss Evans."
"Oh," said Lily. "Right. I suppose I'm wondering — do you know what happened to Sally? Is
she alright?"

Professor McGonagall always carried herself with an intensity that belied her age, but at that
moment she looked older and more tired than Lily had ever seen her. "I wish I could tell you
that Sally is safe," said Professor McGonagall. "I wish I could assure you that her father
knows where she is. But neither I nor the Headmaster know what has happened to her."

Lily suddenly felt very small. "I see. I was hoping…"

"That my answer would be different?"

Lily nodded.

"I wish it were," said Professor McGonagall. She peered over her square spectacles at Lily,
and her expression softened. "You can rest assured that the Headmaster and I are doing all
that is within our power to find her."

Lily took a deep breath. "I want to help."

"The sign-up sheet for search parties —"

"No offence, Professor, but those search parties are useless," said Lily. "Sally went missing
because of the Death Eaters, just like the other Ministry-related disappearances, isn't that
right? Do you really think What's-His-Name would stuff her in a broom closet for a bunch of
students to find?"

Professor McGonagall paused. "I have raised similar concerns with the Headmaster. He
believes, however — and I share his opinion, to an extent — that the ingenuity of the student
body is not to be underestimated. You are a resourceful group."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Lily, "because I'm going to need more resources to find her.
Getting access to the Restricted Section of the library would be a good start, I think."

Professor McGonagall almost smiled. "Do you have any spare parchment?"

Lily left the office a few minutes later, clutching a permission slip for the Restricted Section.
Instead of returning to Gryffindor Tower, she headed for the library on the first floor.
Professor McGonagall had recommended a few books on the theory of tracing magical
signatures.

She had work to do.

James spent the following week rigorously training for the match against Slytherin. He put
himself on an all-protein diet and was averaging eight eggs a day, and he spent so much time
practising drills that even his dreams were filled with Quidditch. The end result of all this
was that he felt quite confident by the time Saturday rolled around. The day was overcast and
quite windy — objectively poor weather for Quidditch — but that didn't dampen James'
spirits in the least. He was confident his team could handle flying in adverse conditions.

"Right, you lot," he said in the changing room after they had all gotten into their Quidditch
robes. "We've got one objective for this match: humiliate Slytherin."

"Fantastic," said Marlene. She and Sirius knocked their bats together. "Let's show those pure-
blooded arseholes how real wizards play Quidditch."

"That's the spirit," said James, deciding it was best not to point out that the Gryffindor
Quidditch team was also composed exclusively of pure-bloods. "I'm not content with just
beating them. I want to see them crushed. Simon, don't let them get so much as a shot at those
hoops. Parvana, if you can catch the Snitch in the first two minutes, I will personally take you
to Hogsmeade and buy you whatever you want. Am I clear?" The team nodded; Parvana's
face was set with determination.

"Excellent," said James, shouldering his broom. "Let's go spill some serpent blood."

It didn't take long for the match to grow dirty; apparently, the Slytherins had planned to
release their pent-up aggression during Quidditch just as much as the Gryffindors had.
Madam Hooch called the first foul on Mulciber, who was one of Slytherin's Beaters, when he
sent a Bludger careening into Parvana while her back was turned. James watched the whole
thing happen, his blood boiling, and nearly pulled out his wand to retaliate; only a look from
Sirius stopped him. After Mulciber's foul, Peregrine Flint sent the Quaffle through the hoop
with ease, scoring the first points of the game.

Gryffindor scored three more times after that in quick succession, and the Slytherins grew
furious. Evan Rosier and Adrestia Carrow, two of the Slytherin Chasers, managed to get on
either side of Otis Podmore, nearly crushing him and causing him to drop the Quaffle. Sirius
retaliated by sending not one but two Bludgers soaring towards Regulus, who had to do an
impressively complicated corkscrew twist to avoid them.

"He flies well," commented James as he caught up to Sirius.

Sirius grunted. "Shame he's pursuing a career in the Dark Arts instead of Quidditch, isn't it?"
A Bludger whizzed past Sirius, narrowly missing his head. Sirius turned, bat aloft and rage in
his eyes.

Mulciber was hovering not twenty feet from them, looking amused. "I don't appreciate people
talking badly about my friends, Black."

Sirius looked like he wanted to leap off his broom and strangle Mulciber. "You —"

"Head in the game, Padfoot!" said James, and he sped past them; Peregrine Flint had just
tossed the Quaffle his way.
But Sirius couldn't seem to focus. Every swing of his bat sent a Bludger towards either
Regulus or Mulciber. Regulus appeared unbothered by this, as he dodged each Bludger easily
while scanning for the Snitch. Mulciber, on the other hand, retaliated by focusing his
Bludgers exclusively on Parvana.

"SIRIUS!" bellowed James after Slytherin managed to score their first goal. "You realise
there are more players on the field than just your brother, right? Where were you just now,
Carrow had a clear shot —"

Sirius crossed his arms. "I'm trying to knock some sense into Reg."

"Right," said James, "I'm not asking for much, only that you lay off the family drama long
enough to actually defend our Keeper if need be —"

"Sod your Keeper." Sirius made a rude hand gesture and flew off before James could
respond.

James groaned in frustration and ran his hands through his hair. Out of the corner of his eye,
he saw Mulciber swing his bat and send a Bludger barrelling upwards, towards Parvana —

"Parvana!" cried James.

She twisted away on her broom, but it was too late; the Bludger smacked into her thigh, and
she let out a cry of pain.

"Alright, Parvana?" asked James, flying upwards to meet her.

Parvana sat up on her broom and touched her leg gingerly. "Ask me again in five minutes,"
she said, her expression grim.

"That bastard won't leave you alone. Say the word I'll turn him into a Flobberworm after the
match."

"No need," said Parvana. She looked down at Mulciber, who was hovering far below them.
He leered at them and mouthed a word that James was certain was offensive. Suddenly,
Parvana smiled — the smile that meant she was about to do something incredibly reckless —
and tugged her broom downward. James' hair blew back as she passed him in a steep dive.

Otis Podmore tossed James the Quaffle, which he tucked under one arm as he sped towards
the hoops on the Slytherin side of the pitch. He dared to glance downward for a moment. He
couldn't catch so much as a glimpse of gold, but Parvana had better eyes than he did, she
knew what she was doing —

She slammed into Mulciber, and the two of them hurtled towards the earth, a tangle of
broomsticks and red and green robes. A strong gust of wind nearly knocked James off his
broom; as he righted himself, he saw that the wind had accelerated Parvana and Mulciber's
descent. They seemed to be grappling with each other, trying to knock each other off their
broom —
Ten feet above the ground, Parvana used her knees to pull up on her broomstick, and they
both jerked to a halt. Mulciber was trying to grab her braid, but Parvana caught his arm; it
looked like she was trying to push up his sleeve. As she and Mulciber flailed about, she used
her legs to flip him upside-down, though her hands were still encircling his wrist.

There was a faint crack, and Mulciber's face twisted in pain, his mouth open. Parvana
disentangled herself from Mulciber and pushed away from him. As she soared upward, she
raised one hand in the air. She was clutching a fluttering golden ball.

The Snitch.

An enormous roar went up from Gryffindor's side of the stands, and James grinned so widely
his cheeks hurt.

"That's how it's done, Parvana!" he said. He joined her on the pitch as Madam Hooch blew
her whistle, signalling the end of the match.

Parvana was beaming. "The Snitch flew up his sleeve while he was patting himself on the
back about hitting me with that Bludger." She glanced towards the other end of the stadium,
where Professor Slughorn was examining Mulciber's hand, which was dangling at an odd
angle.

James followed her gaze. "Did you break his arm?"

"His wrist," said Parvana. Her gaze grew distant, as if she was remembering something, and
her fingers closed around her wrist. "It was a long time coming."

"You're amazing," said James. "You're the best Seeker ever. You —"

With every word he said, Parvana's smile grew wider and wider, until she threw her arms
around him, and she kissed him on the cheek — and her lips were soft, and she smelled like
sweat and Quidditch leathers and wet grass —

Somebody whistled loudly, and they broke apart. Sirius strode towards them, clapping
appreciatively. Beside him, Peregrine Flint and Marlene were exchanging looks, grinning.

"Putting on a show, are you?" asked Sirius. He gestured towards the stands, which were still
full of students. "Should've known you'd be the exhibitionist type, Prongs —"

James gave him a half-hearted shove. "Jealousy isn't a good look on you."

"Everything's a good look on me. And who said I was jealous?" Sirius glanced around at their
teammates. "Marlene, fancy a snog?"

Marlene pretended to retch. "No offence, but I don't exactly play for the same team as you,
Black, if you get my drift —"

That didn't make any sense. "Er," said James, "what team are you on then, Slytherin?" He
laughed a little at his own joke, but nobody else did.
 Marlene glared at him, and James came to a sudden realisation. "Oh."

"Oh," repeated Marlene with a smirk. She jerked her chin towards Parvana. "Keep
celebrating your victory. We'll meet you back in the common room."

Parvana started to blush. "That's not… we can — we'll all go — "

"Nah," said Peregrine. He plucked both James and Parvana's broomsticks out of their hands.
"You two go on; we'll take care of these."

James looked at Parvana. Her bravado had faded; she was biting her lip. "I'm a bit sweaty…"

"So am I," said James. "I don't mind if you don't."

Behind him, Sirius and Marlene were pretending to vomit, but he ignored them. He took
Parvana by her hand; she was still wearing her Quidditch gloves. "A couple of laps around
the pitch, then, and back to the changing room?"

Parvana's fingers curled around his. "That's perfect."

It was.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry that James is dating the wrong person now, but this is a Rite Of Passage for Jily
ships so hopefully you are not too surprised haha. Let's see how Lily reacts to this
development... :) Until next time!
 Uncle Alphard

Severus knew that the Muggle-born Protection Act would become law long before the news
appeared in the Daily Prophet. A few of the other Followers had family members in the
House of Lords, and Evan Rosier had been predicting for weeks that the bill would be
narrowly approved.

"My great-uncle's voting 'yes' because he owes the Prewetts a favour," Rosier explained to
Severus. "Though privately, of course, his opinions are somewhat different…"

After the House of Lords approved the Act, Professor Slughorn summoned Severus to his
office to discuss how the new law applied to Tobias, his Muggle father. Only two other
Slytherins attended the meeting. One, a fourth year with curly blonde hair, blushed as she
admitted that her second cousin once removed had married a Muggle. The other student, a
gangly seventh year, had a sister-in-law whose grandfather was Muggle-born. Both students
spoke in hushed tones about their relatives. When they finished, they looked at Severus
expectantly, waiting for him to reveal the non-magical blood in his family.

Severus said nothing. His last name gave his blood status away. Let them wonder exactly
how much Muggle blood ran through his veins.

The meeting was relatively painless, and Severus spent the majority of the time thinking of
potential annotations to his Potions book. Professor Slughorn let him leave with little fuss
after he promised to look at the pamphlets that had been pressed into his hands.

On his way back to the common room, Severus conjured a little green fire in his hand and
burned the pamphlets. Tobias had survived perfectly well for the past sixteen years. He didn't
need Severus' help to live through a few more.

"What'd Sluggy have to say?" jeered Mulciber as Severus rejoined the Followers, who were
lounging by the hearth. "Did he offer you safe houses for your extended Muggle family?"

Severus didn't respond. Regulus, it appeared, had finally left his dormitory and was sitting at
one end of the couch, sketching in his journal. As Severus sat beside him, Regulus dipped his
head a little in acknowledgement. Severus nodded back and opened his Potions textbook.

"Are you deaf, Snape?" asked Mulciber loudly.

Rosier was lying on his stomach on the carpet and playing with a set of Divination cards.
"Really, Augustus?"

"It's just a question," said Mulciber. He trained his small blue eyes on Severus, who was
trying very hard to annotate the chapter on Gopalott's Third Law. "How much mud runs
through your veins, Snape? Are you half-mud? Three-quarters?"

Rosier shrugged. "Does it matter? Sev's a Follower like the rest of us, isn't he?" He sat up and
pulled a different set of cards out of his pocket, beginning to shuffle. "Who fancies a game of
Exploding Snap?"

Mulciber seemed determined not to be distracted. "He's at least a half-blood. Who knows
how many Muggle relatives he's got? I bet there's less than a quarter of magical blood
running through those dirty veins of his —"

Severus' quill stilled. "Astonishing," he said.

Regulus glanced up from his journal. "Severus. Don't —"

"It's simply remarkable. That a talentless imbecile who skates by on the merits of his well-
connected father would think himself capable of winning a verbal joust. It's as if he has no
insight at all."

Mulciber's face had gone nearly purple. "You filthy —"

Severus pulled his wand out. "Langlock."

Mulciber began to choke on his own tongue. The other Followers exchanged uncomfortable
looks.

"Sev," said Avery weakly. "Put him right. He's our mentor."

"His father's money is our mentor," said Severus. He kept his wand trained on Mulciber, who
was making strangled honking sounds. The eyes of the entire common room were on them
now, and Severus decided it was time to clarify a few things before speculation about his
blood status grew out of control. It was bad enough to have 'Snape' for a last name; he
couldn't afford for people to realise that his father was a Muggle.

"For the record," said Severus. Each of his words was as sharp as a knife. "No Death Eater
alive despises my Muggle heritage more than I."

The room fell silent as Mulciber stopped fighting against the Tongue-Tying curse. A few
prefects had half-risen from tables, looking concerned.

"If anyone else would like to comment on my blood status," said Severus, "I invite them to
come forward, and I will do them worse than a schoolyard hex." He lifted his wand and
removed the spell from Mulciber. Then he stormed down the stairs to the sixth years'
dormitory, clutching his Potions book his grip.

Mulciber made no further remarks about Severus' family after that, and Severus did his
utmost not to give Mulciber the opportunity. He stopped spending time with the other
Followers outside of the required activities, and at night he always drew the curtains around
his four-poster bed, casting a few protection charms just to be safe. During his free periods,
he retreated to the library, a place he was certain Mulciber would never willingly set foot.

Severus had always considered himself a bit of a loner, but after a week of library trips he
realised that wasn't exactly true; during his early years at Hogwarts, he had Lily to spend time
with, and after Lily, he'd had Bella and the Intents. This was the first time nobody bothered
coming after him when he stalked off.
He hated the solitude. He'd thought Regulus, at least, would have gone after him — it was the
least he could do, after all the support Severus had shown him — but even the youngest scion
to the Blacks was keeping his distance, it seemed. He was probably too busy hiding from his
problems in his dormitory to bother checking on Severus.

After a week of the other Followers pointedly ignoring Severus' snit, he began to feel smug,
instead of wounded. He'd suspected all along that their acceptance of him had been a front,
and this was proof.

He found a bookcase in the library that had a false back leading to a hidden room the size of a
broom closet. The room smelled musty and was completely empty except for a strange mirror
which leaned against one wall and seemed to reflect his thoughts. Severus set up his cauldron
in the middle of the hidden room and began to alternate between experimenting with potions
and using the mirror to practice Occlumency.

At first, the mirror showed him what he could only describe as wish-fulfilment fantasies —
sometimes in the form of the Dark Lord, shrouded in black, bestowing Severus with great
power while Mulciber cowered in the background. Other times, he was arm-in-arm with Lily,
strolling through what appeared to be the French countryside, far from the war.

The images the mirror showed, though all variations on the same theme, were never boring or
repetitive; one memorable evening, he spent hours watching himself play Quidditch for
England, eventually winning the World Cup while a jealous James Potter and Sirius Black
fumed from the stands.

It took Severus weeks to mount any sort of Occlumency defence against these images, so
powerful was the longing they produced in him. At last, he managed to stump the mirror for a
full minute. Only his reflection gazed back at him from the glass. Triumphantly — foolishly
— Severus reached out with his mind towards the mirror, wondering what sort of object it
was —

He woke up on the floor a full day later, sweating and feverish, as if he had the flu. That was
the last time he attempted to use Legilimency on the mirror.

Regulus caught up with him one day as he was leaving the library. "Severus," said Regulus.
"How are you?"

"Never better," said Severus drily. "And yourself?"

"Great," said Regulus, who looked anything but. He glanced furtively around the corridor,
which was mostly deserted, save for a pair of gossiping Ravenclaws. "Look, you took off
after the last ritual, so you didn't hear — there was an announcement —"

Finally. Severus' heart leapt. "Mulciber's stepping down, then? Buckled under the pressure of
being mentor, did he?"

"What?" said Regulus. "No — not at all, in fact."

"Ah," said Severus. He began to consider that he was spending entirely too much time with
only a wish-fulfilment mirror for company.

"The announcement came from my cousin," said Regulus. "Bella."

"Ah," said Severus, hoping this second 'ah' sounded significantly more intelligent than the
first.

"She's been sending me hints for ages through owl post, but she finally decided to tell
everyone. She Floo-called us, using the fireplace in — in Dungeon You-Know-Which. She
couldn't give many details, but she said — the Dark Lord is going to retaliate. Because the
Muggle-born Protection Act passed. And he wants to target more students."

If Severus hadn't been practising his Occlumency so regularly, he might have thought of Lily.
"A retaliation? Here at Hogwarts?"

"That's what it sounded like," said Regulus.

"But we've already taken care of Sally Dearborn." Though he still had no idea how. "If we go
around vanishing all the blood traitors from school we'll be caught and expelled. So what
does she want from us?"

"She didn't say exactly," admitted Regulus. "We won't be the ones carrying out the Dark
Lord's plan, though. It'll come from higher up. You know — from Primaries, I expect."

"Nonsense," said Severus. He stalked purposefully through the corridor, his oversized robes
billowing behind him. "Not even the Dark Lord himself can get into the school as long as
Dumbledore's here."

Regulus followed him unhurriedly. "What makes you say that?"

"Lucius recruited us," said Severus, as plainly as if he were explaining something to a child.
"What possible interest could the Death Eaters have in a handful of underage students if they
were capable of infiltrating the school themselves?"

"The unmonitored Floo —"

"— must have some sort of limitation we don't know about," said Severus as they descended
the spiral staircase to the first floor. "Otherwise the Death Eaters would have no use for us.
But we are valued, and it is for our connection to the school. Lucius said it himself, during
our first meeting — we are to be the Dark Lord's eyes and ears at Hogwarts."

Regulus looked unconvinced. "Bella seemed fairly certain…"

"She has been wrong before," said Severus. "Your family is not known for its mental
stability."

"I thought you didn't want people to make assumptions about families."

That was fair, and Severus knew it. "Apologies."

Regulus shrugged. "Bella said we're not to get involved when it happens. The Dark Lord
needs us to be obviously innocent. Lest we…" He made finger quotes in the air. "Suffer his
displeasure."

That was interesting. Severus nodded. "I appreciate the information."

"Anytime," said Regulus. They came to a stop on the first floor landing, and Regulus
hesitated.

"I don't need accompaniment to my lessons, Regulus," said Severus.

"I wasn't planning on it," replied Regulus coolly. "I only wanted to say — you've got friends
in Slytherin. You know that, right?"

Severus' lips curled. "Name three."

"Myself," said Regulus. "Plus Edmund Avery and Evan Rosier. They really do think you're
alright."

"I'm touched," said Severus, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you mean to say you're
worried about me, Regulus?"

Regulus nearly smiled. Severus was glad he didn't. Regulus looked too much like Sirius when
he was happy. "I don't know if you've noticed," said Regulus, "but worrying is something I'm
exceptionally good at. So, yes. I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Your concern is misplaced," said Severus. "I'm doing excellent."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around at the moment, isn't there?" said Regulus. "So many
of us are just doing fantastic."

For an instant, Severus softened. Regulus might be indecisive and neurotic, but he was only
trying to survive. Just like Severus. Just like — don't think about her — so many students,
Muggle-born and otherwise.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" asked Severus. "Being caught in a war that's been brewing for decades.
Had we been born five years earlier, or later, we might have been able to actually enjoy our
adolescence."

"It is a shame," agreed Regulus. "I should write to the Dark Lord about it… send him a
strongly worded letter. He ought to listen — I'm heir to the House of Black, you know."

That was almost funny. "Am I living in an alternate reality?" asked Severus. "When did you
grow a sense of humour?"

Regulus smiled. Severus hated it. "I'm trying not to care so much about things I can't control.
There's no point." He shrugged. "Even if we make it out of Hogwarts alive, we're all bound to
die in the war anyway."

He gave a little wave as he walked off, leaving Severus at the base of the stairs.
The last weekend in November arrived more quickly than Sirius had expected. He hadn't
been dreading it, or even keeping particular tabs on the passage of time, but he was startled
nonetheless to wake up Saturday morning and realise that he would be meeting his uncle in
Hogsmeade that afternoon.

Remus was watching him closely at breakfast. "Are you nervous?"

Sirius scoffed. "You're projecting. I've never been nervous in my life."

"You're not eating," said Peter around a mouthful of sausage. He gestured with a fork towards
Sirius' plate.

"That's because the toast doesn't taste right," said Sirius. "Not because I'm nervous."

"You know," said Remus from behind the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, "sometimes our
feelings can make food taste funny."

"I don't have feelings," said Sirius. "I'm fine. Maybe I'm just not hungry because my so-called
mates are sitting around staring at me."

"I wasn't staring at you," said James, who hadn't been; he'd been gazing down the table at
Parvana, mouth slightly ajar.

Sirius waved his knife towards where Parvana was sitting. "Do us all a favour and ask her to
'practise Quidditch manoeuvres' with you again, why don't you? At least then we won't have
to put up with you mooning —"

"I thought I was the moony one," said Remus, and they all groaned. Peter flicked a bit of egg
at Remus, which bounced off his forehead.

Sirius got up from the table. "You lot are impossible. I'm leaving."

"But we're not allowed to go to Hogsmeade for another hour," said Peter. "Are you sure
you're not sneaking off to write your uncle and tell him not to come?"

Sirius raised his eyes towards the heavy clouds drifting slowly across the enchanted ceiling.
"How many secret passages to Hogsmeade have we found, twelve? Some of us don't like to
be late, Pete."

Sirius didn't actually bother to take one of the hidden tunnels to Hogsmeade. It had snowed
overnight for the first time all term, and he wanted to find out if snow was more fun as a dog.
He transformed behind one of the greenhouses, then raced to Hagrid's hut to roll in the
snowdrifts that had gathered over the vegetable patch. After giving himself a good shake to
be rid of the ice crystals matting his fur, he set off for the Forbidden Forest, hoping to spot a
yeti shambling through the trees.
He didn't find a yeti, but he did manage to disturb a couple of ice pixies slumbering in a bush.
Their glass-like wings beat wildly as they pursued him through the forest, though he
eventually managed to lose them by transforming back into a human. They zoomed right past
him, chittering angrily, and he made a rude hand gesture at their backs.

It was a short walk to the train tracks that ran along the outskirts of Hogsmeade, so Sirius
adjusted his scarf and tamped down the snow with his boots as loudly as he could while he
walked, trying to drown out his thoughts. He should never have written to Uncle Alphard.
Not even finding out if Andromeda was alright was worth getting tangled up with his family
again. Besides, what would Andromeda say if she knew he was sticking his neck out like this
for her? Nothing kind, he was sure. Her tongue was as sharp as his mother's.

The snow crunched under Sirius' boots. What if Uncle Alphard expected Sirius to thank him
for Obliviating his parents? What if he thought Sirius owed him a favour?

I owe him nothing, decided Sirius. I wasn't the one who asked him to Obliviate them. He can
speak to Reg if he wants a favour.

Sirius reached Hogsmeade Station and turned on to Main Street, dragging his feet. As
reluctant as he was, the Three Broomsticks drew him forward like a magnet, looking
deceptively inviting. Soft golden light poured from its frosted windows, and there was a
Christmas wreath on the door. Inside, silver and gold baubles were strung along the walls,
and Christmas trees stood in the corners, their tinselled boughs grazing the floor.

The pub was filled near to bursting with students enjoying the last Hogsmeade weekend
before the Christmas holidays, and Sirius had to elbow his way through a group of
Hufflepuffs who were taking up entirely too much space. He ignored their protests as he
scanned the crowded pub. At last, he spotted his Uncle Alphard, who was sitting alone in a
corner booth.

Sirius pushed past another gaggle of students and slid into the seat across from him. "Uncle
Alphard. Hi."

The deep lines around Uncle Alphard's eyes crinkled as he smiled benevolently at Sirius. His
long black hair, streaked with grey at the temples, was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his
neck, and even his neatly trimmed beard was speckled with grey. He looked older than Sirius
remembered.

"Sirius," said Uncle Alphard, inclining his head. "It's good to see you again."

Sirius honestly couldn't say the same, so he remained silent.

Uncle Alphard arched his thick eyebrows, waiting for a response, but Sirius said nothing.
This didn't seem to bother Uncle Alphard; on the contrary, he pulled out a weathered-looking
wand and began to polish it with a rag. "I've ordered us butterbeers," he said, examining his
wand. "You like Butterbeer, I assume?"

Sirius grunted. Uncle Alphard, unperturbed, continued to polish his wand while humming a
tune under his breath. After a few minutes, Madam Rosmerta bustled over to the booth and
placed the butterbeers in front of them.

"'Ta, Rosmerta," said Uncle Alphard. He winked at her, and she blushed a little before
disappearing behind the bar. Uncle Alphard raised his mug towards Sirius as if making a toast
and took a sip. He closed his eyes and made an appreciative noise.

"Excellent, as always. Now, let's get to business, shall we?" He picked his weathered wand up
off the table and cast several privacy charms around their booth.

Sirius' ears popped as the privacy charms dampened the air around them. "Why do we need
—"

"Family secrets, my boy," replied Uncle Alphard. Appearing satisfied with his spellwork, he
set his wand on the table and leaned towards Sirius. "Now. I realise you are not grateful that I
have modified your parents' memories."

Well. At least Sirius didn't have to spell that out for him. He crossed his arms. "So what?"

"Regardless of your feelings towards the situation, I removed those memories for your
benefit."

Sirius snorted. "Some benefit. I think your Obliviation might've addled their minds."

"Pish-posh," said Uncle Alphard. "I know my trade. Your parents' instability is their own
doing."

"I'm not so sure," said Sirius. "You're certain you didn't make them forget that I'm a
Gryffindor and a disgrace to the family name?"

"Of course not. Obliviation has limitations, you know."

Sirius took a sip of Butterbeer, watching Uncle Alphard closely. He seemed to be telling the
truth. But if Uncle Alphard hadn't modified his parent's memories, then why…

"My parents are sending me love letters now, did you know that? Do you have anything to do
with that?"

"Your parents' decisions are their own," said Uncle Alphard. "Though I will admit I had heard
they are trying a new tactic with you."

"Yeah, and it's bonkers," said Sirius.

Uncle Alphard chuckled. "Be that as it may, they have their reasons for writing to you." and
pulled a newspaper clipping from an inner coat pocket. He glanced around furtively to make
sure nobody was watching, then placed the clipping on the table. "This should clarify some
things."

Sirius examined the newspaper clipping. One side contained a black-and-white advertisement
of a square contraption with a long hose attached. That thing was called a hoover, wasn't it?
He'd seen something similar in his Muggle Studies textbook. What was Uncle Alphard doing
with a clipping from a Muggle newspaper? Sirius flipped it over, and his eyes widened. This
side had been cut from the wedding announcements, and there were only a few lines of text.

Mr E. Tonks and Miss A. Black

The marriage took place on September 12, 1977, in Plymouth, between Edward, son of
Mr and Mrs Robert Tonks, and Andromeda, daughter of Mr and Mrs Cygnus Black.

There was no accompanying picture. "Andromeda," said Sirius once he had finished reading.
He looked at Uncle Alphard. "She got married? To a Muggle? That last name, it isn't..."

"Edward Tonks is Muggle-born."

"Just as bad."

Uncle Alphard nodded gravely. "The situation is worse than you think."

"How could it possibly be worse?"

"She's pregnant. Pretty far along, in fact."

Sirius groaned and buried his head in his hands. "Of course she is." He'd always thought
Andromeda had been the sensible one, but if she'd gotten herself pregnant out of wedlock —
and with a Muggle-born, no less… He tossed the newspaper clipping at Uncle Alphard
without looking up. "She's alright, though? Uncle Cygnus, when he found out, did he hurt
her, or…?"

"She's safe for the time being, but it was a narrow thing," said Uncle Alphard.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You wouldn't like the answer."

Sirius dropped his hands from his face and took several large gulps of Butterbeer. "I'm going
to need something stronger than this."

Uncle Alphard didn't smile. "You understand now why I Obliviated your parents, last
summer?"

"So they wouldn't try to kill me, too?"

"More or less," said Uncle Alphard. "I predicted — correctly, it seems — that when
Andromeda's desertion came to light, your parents would feel inclined to give you one last
chance to be part of the family."

"They're only giving me 'one last chance' because they've forgotten I've already pulled an
Andromeda."
Uncle Alphard lifted a shoulder. "And?"

Sirius remembered that Uncle Alphard had been a Slytherin. "Right. It doesn't matter because
the ends justify the means and all that. I forgot that's how you people think."

Uncle Alphard's lips, almost hidden under his salt-and-pepper beard, curled into a smile.
"Exactly."

"I still don't know why you bothered," said Sirius. "I don't care about my parents' second
chances. I want nothing to do with them. Nothing. And I'm of age, so legally, I can leave. I've
already left, in fact."

"You are of age," agreed Uncle Alphard. "And you are the heir to the Blacks. If you would
only return to Grimmauld Place to accept your responsibilities as firstborn —"

"No," said Sirius loudly, but Uncle Alphard spoke over him.

"Think, Sirius! Think of all that that could be yours. Not only Grimmauld Place, but our other
family properties, the vaults at Gringotts, your father's trove of artefacts…"

"Bunch of shoddy Dark objects that can kill you in about ten different ways," said Sirius. "I'll
pass, thanks."

Uncle Alphard looked pained. "You're being short-sighted. Think of the good you could do
with your parent's fortune in your hands."

As he spoke, everything began to make sense, and Sirius groaned. "You just want my parents'
money, don't you? Is that why you Obliviated them, so you could collect a favour from the
heir to the House of Black…"

"It is more than a favour!" Uncle Alphard pounded a fist on the table. "If you would reconcile
with your parents — they're not expecting much, just for you to do the bare minimum around
the Black estate — the House of Black would be yours within a decade, and we could —"

"No," said Sirius. "I wouldn't go back to them, even for a year. Even for a month. I'd rather
—"

Uncle Alphard's eyes were dark. "If you knew who needed that money, you would not be so
flippant."

"Tell me, then." Sirius leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm all ears."

Uncle Alphard let out a strained sigh. "You have heard of the Dark Lord, I assume?"

"That nutter my parents have been worshipping?" asked Sirius. "The Muggle-hating one?
Yeah, I know of him. So what?"

"The situation outside of your precious castle is… perilous. A darkness is spreading across
Wizarding Britain." Uncle Alphard glanced around the pub before leaning closer. His fingers
curled around his wand. "Some people — Dumbledore included, mind — can tell that things
are going to get worse before they get better. There is — a group being formed to oppose this
darkness. These are the people who need support."

"Oh," said Sirius. "So you want me to fund Dumbledore and his secret club. Wasn't aware he
was that hard up, he looks pretty well off in the Great Hall during meals —"

"Not just money," said Uncle Alphard. There was a hunger in his grey eyes. "Safehouses.
Magical secrets, guarded by our family for generations... These could be the key to giving
our side the advantage —"

"No," said Sirius. "I won't. I've waited seventeen years to be free of my parents. I'm not about
to give that up just so your band of revolutionaries can get their grubby paws on some extra
Galleons."

"But you won't have to wait much longer to be free of them!" Uncle Alphard banged his
wand on the table when making his point, and red sparks shot into the air. "Your parents are
not going to live forever. There is a war brewing, and casualties are increasing. Besides, you
have memorised our family tree. You know that us Blacks are not blessed with long lifespans.
I give your parents ten years more to live, at most."

Ten years was close enough to forever for Sirius's liking. Uncle Alphard shook his head at the
look on Sirius' face. "If you don't reconcile with your parents, Regulus will inherit everything
— our fortune, property, possessions — in a mere handful of years."

"And I'm sure he'd put it all to good use," said Sirius. "Invest it, or something. He's sensible."

"Regulus Black is being courted by Death Eaters," growled Uncle Alphard. "That's where the
money would go."

"I don't care," said Sirius. "I won't do what you want. I'm not going back to Grimmauld
Place."

"Then you are a fool."

Sirius scoffed. "Oh, please. Do you have any idea what my life at Grimmauld Place has been
like? You're as twisted as the rest of them, demanding that your seventeen-year-old nephew
return to that hellhole just so you can get your hands on the family gold —"

"Sirius," said Uncle Alphard."We are family. I care for you —"

"You care about what I can do for you." Sirius' head was starting to hurt. This was why he
didn't like dealing with his family. Even the best of them were terrible. "I'm going back to the
castle," he announced, standing up. He flicked a few Sickles onto the table. "Nice chat, Uncle
Alphard. Best of luck with the renegades."
Lily didn't go to Hogsmeade with Marlene and Mary; instead, she headed straight for the
library. Madam Pince had scrutinised Lily from head to toe, surely suspicious that any
student would rather be in the library than in Hogsmeade, but even she couldn't turn up her
nose at a permission slip from Professor McGonagall. That was how Lily had ended up
hunched at a small table in the very back of the Restricted Section, poring over a black
leather tome that smelled of blood and was entitled Hunting Nightmares: How to Find and
Capture Dark and Dangerous Beasts.

After a few minutes, she sighed and shut the book, which released a puff of dust from
between its pages. Hunting Nightmares was excellent at describing were-creature dissections
in excruciating detail, but it was no help in locating Sally Dearborn. She'd made a note of an
obscure tracking spell listed in the appendix, but seeing as Sally wasn't a Dark or dangerous
creature, she wasn't sure the spell would even work.

She returned Hunting Nightmares to its shelf and tried to ignore Madam Pince's piercing
glare as she left the library. The corridors of the castle were nearly deserted, and Lily slipped
into the empty Gryffindor common room with an idea percolating in her mind.

She took the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories, but instead of entering her own dormitory,
she snuck carefully to the top of the staircase, where the seventh-year girls slept.

"Homenum revelio," she whispered, pointing her wand at the door. Nothing happened.

Lily relaxed a little. "Alohomora."

The door swung open, and Lily crept inside. The dormitory was significantly larger than her
own; nine beds lined the circular room. Her breath caught when she saw the fourth bed from
the entrance. The sheets were perfectly taught, as if it hadn't been slept in for some time, and
the bedside table was conspicuously empty. Although it looked like a hotel bed, waiting for
its next occupant, at one point it must have belonged to Sally.

It's still Sally's, Lily corrected herself. Because she's not dead. She can't be.

The trunk at the foot of the bed had been left unlatched and was empty as well. Sally's father
must have come to collect her things. When had that happened? Lily was certain she would
have noticed if Caradoc Dearborn had been walking around Gryffindor tower. The man had
been in the Prophet nonstop; he was practically a celebrity.

Lily dropped to her knees at the side of the bed and wordlessly lit the tip of her wand. She
peered under the bed, hoping the house-elves had missed a spot in their cleaning.

She didn't find what she was looking for under the bed, but her search of the chest of drawers
across the room was more successful. Something gleamed as she passed her wand across the
bottommost drawer, and her heart leapt.

"Accio," she whispered. A single, golden hair zoomed into her hand. It wasn't werewolf fur
— which the author of Hunting Nightmares had recommended most highly for the spell she
had copied — but it would have to do.
Lily clutched the hair in her fist and scanned the room to make sure nothing was out of place.
Then she raced down the stairs and pushed open the room to her own dormitory. When she
saw who was inside, she skidded to a halt.

James Potter and Parvana were entangled in the centre of the room, their backs to the door.
Lily's first thought was that they were engaged in an activity which ought to be kept very
private. Upon further inspection, though, it appeared that Parvana was in the middle of some
sort of complicated stretching exercise. James Potter was practically draped on top of her, and
he seemed to be attempting to extend her arm past its natural range of motion.

The door slammed shut of its own accord behind Lily. Parvana and James sprang apart,
noticing her for the first time.

"Er," said Lily. She still wasn't confident that what she had just seen were exercises.

Parvana's face was scarlet. "Oh, Lily! Hi. We were, just, erm…"

"Stretching," said James, who didn't seem embarrassed in the least.

Lily blinked. "How did you even get in here? I thought — boys aren't allowed in the girls'
dormitories, the staircase —"

"Oh, there's a trick to those stairs," said James. "I only had to —" He broke off as Parvana
made a movement which caught his attention. He leaned forward and helped Parvana extend
her arm so far it seemed about to pop out of her shoulder joint.

"You see," said James over his shoulder to Lily, with the air of having explained this before,
"Parv's arms are a quarter-inch shorter than your average Seeker's, which means she needs to
improve her range of motion if she's going to stand a chance in the professional leagues. I'm
teaching her these exercises my aunt used to do, it's called ashtanga. Wanna learn?"

Those stretching exercises seemed awfully intimate if you asked Lily. "Erm, no thanks," she
said. It was so hot all of a sudden. Wasn't it supposed to be snowing outside? "Sorry, I didn't
realise — I'll just be getting on, then…"

"We were just about to leave," said Parvana. "We need to go to Hogsmeade, James has
ordered us a book —" She sat up straight and adjusted her robes. Lily frowned. Were
stretching exercises supposed to make your robes that rumpled?

"Oh, er, no need to leave," said Lily. "I was just going to — I'll just go study in the toilet, I
guess —" God, what was she even saying?

"You're going to study," repeated James. "In the loo."

Well, she certainly didn't need to put up with that tone from him. "I've got my period,"
snapped Lily, and James' eyes widened in horror. Good. He ought to be embarrassed about
something. "So yes, I'll be in the loo if you need me. Which I'm assuming you won't."

She fled into the toilet before James could respond, locking the door behind her. She sank to
the floor slowly and pressed her hands to her cheeks, which felt like they were on fire. James
and Parvana? When had that happened? It was true that James hadn't been bothering her as
much this year, but she had assumed that was because he was maturing. Clearly, she had
missed something.

Lily slapped her cheeks a little, trying to get a handle on herself. It didn't matter. They made a
cute couple. And it wasn't like she had feelings for him, anyway. She was just used to the old
joke about Potter being in love with Evans. Well, if he was doing stretching exercises with
Parvana, he had clearly outgrown that childish infatuation. Which was a good thing, because
he had been bloody annoying.

So everything was fine, really.

Lily brought her hand away from her face and uncurled her fingers, relieved to see the blonde
strand of hair still curled in her palm. She set the hair carefully on the floor beside her and
pulled her notes on Hunting Nightmares out of her bag. She began to practise the wand
movements of the tracking spell while trying desperately not to listen to whatever was going
on in the dormitory, which involved quite a lot of whispering and the occasional giggle. It
was none of her business. And besides, she had work to do.

It took her the better part of an hour to get the spell working, partly because of its complexity,
and partly because she kept getting distracted by the damned giggles coming from behind the
door. Just as she was about to give up on the spell as a lost cause, she heard footsteps in the
dormitory, followed by the slam of a door.

Lily listened for a moment. The footsteps were descending the staircase, and the dormitory
was silent. Parvana and James had finally left, then. She breathed a sigh of relief as she
turned her focus back to the spell, which required not only difficult wand movements but also
precise gestures from her free hand.

After another five minutes, she completed the spell, and the strand of hair on the floor began
to glow. Lily tried to calm her pounding heart. It might not work, she reminded herself. It isn't
werewolf fur, after all. She picked up the hair and placed it in the palm of her hand. It spun
around a couple of times before coming to a stop, quivering like the needle of a compass.

Lily moved her hand, and the hair spun slightly. Excitement thrummed through her like
electricity. It really was like a compass! It seemed to be pointing away from the dormitory.

Hardly believing her luck, Lily scrambled out of the toilet and down the stairs. She followed
her makeshift compass out of Gryffindor tower and down many flights of stairs until she was
crossing the Entrance Hall and descending into the dungeons.

The dungeons of Hogwarts were huge and labyrinthine, and Lily was soon following the
compass through areas she'd never seen before. The glowing hair led her through a series of
ever-narrowing corridors, and the air grew strangely damp. After ten minutes of wandering,
she was feeling increasingly lost, and a voice in the back of Lily's mind wondered if she'd be
able to find her way out of the dungeons.

Suddenly, the hair spun sharply to the left. Lily followed its lead and stepped into a dark
corridor with a low ceiling. The air was heavy with moisture, and dark green moss crept up
the stone walls. Carved snakes curled around the braziers on the walls, and as Lily entered
the corridor, the brazier flared brightly. The flickering firelight revealed a series of statues
lining the corridor, all carved from white marble, and at the end of the corridor hung a large
painting.

Lily slowed her pace, observing the statues as she walked past. They had been carved to
depict the same man, although each statue held a different pose. Some wore long robes, as if
the man had been a mage or a scholar, while others donned armour and posed with weapons.
The painting at the end of the hall was a portrait of the man, who had long, straight blonde
hair, unnervingly pale skin, and a sour face. Lily thought his expression made him look a bit
like Severus. This man could do with a bit of sunlight, as well.

As she examined one of the statues, her hand began to burn, and she looked down. The hair
lay lifeless in her palm, its glow faded. Lily frowned. She hadn't expected the spell to last for
such a short amount of time. Unless…

An unpleasant thought twisted Lily's stomach. She had supposed the spell would lead her to
Sally Dearborn, but she was clearly not here. Perhaps… could Sally have died here? Was that
why the compass had led her halfway down the corridor and no further?

No. Lily shook her head. She refused to believe it. This corridor was so strange, so
deliberately tucked away… maybe there was a hidden passageway behind the painting, or
under one of the statues.

She glanced at the painting, which was watching her with that pinched expression it had.
Maybe she could get some information out of it. As she approached the painting, she noticed
the golden plaque affixed beneath its frame. Portrait of a Young Salazar, read the plaque, and
Lily's heart sank. What were the odds that a young Salazar Slytherin would help her find a
missing half-blood student?

"Excuse me," she said as politely as she could.

The portrait, which had been alternating between sneering at her and working on what
appeared to be a star chart, narrowed its eyes.

"Yes?"

Lily gulped. There was more good breeding in that single word than she had in her entire
body. "It's just — er. You haven't seen a Gryffindor girl wandering around here, have you?
Shorter than me, plaited blonde hair, kind of intimidating-looking?"

The young Salazar looked down his nose at her. "I cannot say that I have."

Too late, Lily remembered that Gryffindor was probably a sore subject with this painting. She
decided to try a different approach. "What about Slytherin students, how often do they come
round this corridor?"

Salazar's eyes seemed to pierce right through her. He lifted his chin imperiously. "I must say,
I do not recognise your features. Red hair, but too dark to be a Weasley, and no freckles…
Descendant of the Abbotts, are you?"

"Erm," said Lily, "Yes, absolutely, I'm an Abbott. I'm Lily… Abbott. It's a pleasure." She
considered curtsying but decided against it.

The young Salazar's eyes narrowed. "The pleasure is all mine," he drawled, sounding
anything but pleased.

Lily's heart sank. This is a lost cause, she thought. Even if there was some sort of secret to
this corridor, there was no way the painting would reveal anything to her now. "Thanks,
anyway. I'll just be off, then… "

Young Salazar wasn't listening, having already gone back to his star chart, and Lily trailed
off. Maybe she could come back another time when the painting was in a better mood. She
sighed and glanced at the hair, which she was still holding like a compass. Some
breakthrough this had been. And now she was lost in the dungeons.

"Lily?" said a voice.

She startled, shoving the hair into her pocket. For the love of —

"Hi, Regulus," she said, trying to sound casual, as if she wandered around alone in the
dungeons all the time.

He was standing in the middle of the corridor, wearing a heavy wool cape and carrying a
bulging bag from Honeydukes in one hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Patrols," said Lily immediately.

Regulus arched a single eyebrow. "In the dungeons?"

"Yeah."

"Let me rephrase that," said Regulus. "In this part of the dungeons?"

Lily winced. "I got lost." Technically true.

"Clearly," said Regulus. "Why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"

Lily raised her chin. "I could ask you the same question."

Regulus' eyebrow raised even further — something she hadn't thought possible — and he
gestured at the Honeydukes bag. "I've already been."

"Ah," said Lily. "Right."

Regulus tucked the Honeydukes bag under his arm. "Fancy a guide out of here?"

"Please," said Lily, smiling a bit.

Regulus didn't return her smile as he fell into step beside her. "You shouldn't have come
down here alone. To Salazar's Corridor? What were you thinking?"

"Salazar's Corridor? It's got a name, then?"

"Obviously," said Regulus. "A name and about a hundred curses on every statue in it. You're
lucky you still have both legs if you were antagonising that portrait —"

"I wasn't antagonising the portrait. And I can take care of myself."

"No," said Regulus. "You can't."

"I can, actually," she snapped.

He glanced at her. His expression was far too weary for someone carrying a bag of sweets
from Honeydukes. "Be sensible, Lily. You know there are sympathisers of the Dark Lord in
Slytherin, and the dungeons are crawling with curses and traps. You — that is, with your
heritage — it's dangerous to come traipsing around here. You could be seriously hurt."

Lily lifted her chin defiantly. "There might be some bad apples in Slytherin, but I'm not about
to go walking around the castle afraid. We've got Dumbledore, and McGonagall — I mean,
we're at Hogwarts, aren't we? We're safe."

Regulus shook his head. "You're wrong. We're not."

"Just because Sally —"

"This isn't about Sally," said Regulus sharply. "Wherever she is, she's safer than you are now.
I guarantee it. "

"Why do you say that? What do you mean, she's —"

"Forget Sally," said Regulus harshly. "She's irrelevant. I'm trying to tell you —"

"Irrelevant? I don't believe you. You —"

"The Death Eaters are planning something, alright?" snapped Regulus.

Lily fell silent, her eyes wide. "What?"

Regulus was staring at her intently, breathing hard. "It's a — a rumour going around my
House. They're planning something to do with Hogwarts. Something bad."

Lily felt like she had been slapped. "Is that what you meant before, at Sirius' birthday? When
you said you'd had a letter from your cousin?"

Regulus nodded. "I didn't know the details then. But there's been hints — rumours —
whatever they're planning, it's big."

"That's impossible. The Death Eaters can't get into Hogwarts."

"They can," said Regulus. "I don't know how, but if Bella says they can, then it's possible."

"But there's barely two weeks left until the Christmas holidays. Surely if they were going to
do something, they'd have already done it."

"Come on, Lily," said Regulus. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know," said Lily. She kept her gaze on the stone walls surrounding them, not wanting
to meet his eyes. "Have you told anyone?"

Regulus snorted. "Like who? Slughorn?"

"Like Dumbledore!"

Regulus actually laughed at that, the sound cold and mirthless. "You're kidding, right? Tell
me you're joking."

"I'm not," said Lily. "You have to tell him. He could put a stop to it —"

"Do you know what the people in my House would do to me if they found out I went running
to Dumbledore?"

"Nothing would happen to you," said Lily. "Dumbledore would protect you."

"Like he protected Sally Dearborn?"

"That… " said Lily. "That was — he would…"

Regulus' grey eyes were hard as flint. "You and I both know that Sally was attacked long
before she disappeared." He pressed a hand to his stomach involuntarily. "Dumbledore had
two months to prevent that from happening again. And did he?"

God. She hated that he had a point. "I don't know," said Lily. "I suppose — I'm sure there are
things behind the scenes we're not privy to…"

"There wasn't even a notice in the paper," said Regulus scathingly. "No mention that a student
had gone missing from the safest bastion in magical Britain. Who do you think had a hand in
suppressing that information?"

"I don't know —"

"There's a lot you don't know," said Regulus. "Listen. I'm a Black. My childhood education
was different from yours. I learned about the major players in the wizarding world.
Dumbledore — he's not one to get bogged down in the details. He only cares about the big
picture. What's the death of one student to him, so long as the Muggle-born Protection Act
gets passed?"

"You're wrong about Dumbledore," said Lily, but she was uncertain. It was true that no news
of Sally's disappearance had ever reached the Daily Prophet. She'd never given it much
thought.
"I'm not," said Regulus. "That's just the way he thinks. Read any book on his involvement in
the Great Wizarding War and you'll see. What's one life lost, if a hundred more are saved?
He'd sacrifice me — or you, or Sally — without a second thought if it meant advancing his
agenda. I have nothing to gain from going to him. Nothing."

Lily bit her lip. "I've never heard anybody talk about Dumbledore like that."

"That's because you're not in Slytherin," said Regulus. "We're rather more objective than you
Gryffindors." He smirked at her sceptical expression. "Ask my brother what Dumbledore's
like if you don't believe me. He'll tell you the same."

"Fine," said Lily, crossing her arms. "I will."

A corner of Regulus' lip turned upwards. "Good. Let me know what he says." They rounded
the corner to the corridor which led to the Entrance Hall. "I trust you can find your way back
from here?"

"Yeah," said Lily. "Thanks." She turned to say good-bye, but Regulus was already walking
away from her, one hand raised in farewell.
 Morsmordre
Chapter Notes

Small content warning on this chapter for brief mentions of suicide.

Sirius stormed into Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop and slammed the door hard behind him.
Several curious heads turned his way, but he ignored all of them. He went straight to the back
of the shop, where James and Parvana were sitting on a chintz sofa and flipping through a
book.

James glanced up, surprised. "Padfoot? What're you —"

"Where's the map?" demanded Sirius.

"I thought you were meeting your uncle."

"I did. The map, Prongs."

"What do you want with the —"

"I'm going to work on it," said Sirius. "Is that so hard to believe?"

James scrunched up his face as if Sirius was a particularly difficult Transfiguration problem
he was trying to puzzle out. Parvana looked back and forth between James and Sirius, her
eyes wide. Sirius glowered at her.

"Yeah, alright," said James at last. He began to rummage in his bag. "Try not to eat this one,
will you?"

"Clever," said Sirius flatly. As he took the map, he noticed the book James and Parvana had
been perusing. Its pages were full of large, glossy photographs of a Quidditch team wearing
grey and white robes. "Are you two… reading a book together?"

"Not just any book," said James proudly, and Parvana nodded in agreement. "You're looking
at Flying with the Falcons, first edition. It's even got a signature from legendary Beater Karl
Broadmoore, look…"

He started flipping towards the front of the book, but Sirius paid no attention. "Shouldn't you
two be, I dunno, snogging?" He gestured towards the other couples in the shop, all of whom
were rather more physically entwined than James and Parvana.

James and Parvana looked at each other. Parvana shrugged. "It's just… the Falmouth Falcons
are really interesting. Did you know they have the highest Bludger hit ratio in the whole
league?"

"Scintillating," said Sirius drily, and Parvana bit her lip. "I'll leave you to it, then." As he
strode out of the shop, he called loudly over his shoulder, "Try not to get too hot and bothered
by Karl Broadmoore's broomstick, if you know what I mean."

James frowned at Sirius and put an arm around Parvana, who looked like she wanted to
disappear. Sirius snorted and broke into a run, sprinting up the winding path that led to
Hogwarts. It wasn't his fault Quidditch got them off.

Back at Hogwarts, Sirius took the steps to Gryffindor Tower two at a time. Instead of entering
the common room, he continued upwards, eventually climbing the ladder to the belfry. He
picked his way across the belfry scaffolding and settled down with his back against the Bell
of Merlin, opening the map in his lap. Nearly two-thirds of Hogwarts was depicted on the
map, although large swathes of the parchment were empty: several areas of the castle
stubbornly refused to be charted. In the corner of the map, infuriatingly motionless, sat the
dot labelled Peter Pettigrew.

Sirius stuck his wand between his teeth, pulled out a quill, and got to work. Hours later,
someone crouched beside him, and Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Sorry, sorry," said Remus, holding up his hands apologetically.

"Jesus, Moony. A little warning would've been nice."

Remus' mouth twisted wryly as he sat cross-legged beside Sirius. "You sound ridiculous
when you use Muggle swears."

"You sound ridiculous all the time."

"In a mood, are we?"

Sirius jabbed his wand at the parchment in front of him. "Leave me alone. I want to suffer in
peace."

"In a mood and suffering," said Remus. "Drinks with Uncle Alphard went well then, I take
it."

"Sod off."

"I'll pass, thanks," said Remus. Sirius glared, half-tempted to hex him, but Remus appeared
not to notice; he leaned over the map, humming thoughtfully. "You've added Flitwick's office,
good show; it kept erasing itself when I tried. And —" His eyes widened. "The Homonculus
Charm — you…"

Sirius grunted, still watching the map. A single, moving dot labelled Regulus Black was
crossing the Entrance Hall, heading towards the corridor that led to the kitchens.

Remus' voice was soft. "Pads."

"It doesn't matter," said Sirius, "because the dungeons are completely Unplottable, and that's
where he spends all his time. I shouldn't have bothered." He jabbed a finger at the paper. "I
can watch Reg get himself a snack, but that's it. Useless. Waste of my time."

Remus didn't respond. He'd always been good at tactful pauses; Sirius hated that about him.

"I thought —" began Sirius, if only because he wanted to fill the silence. "I wanted to… If I
could keep an eye on him…"

Remus sighed deeply. "Did Uncle Alphard say something to make you feel this way?"

"No," said Sirius immediately.

Remus merely raised his eyebrows. Damn him and his tactful pauses.

"He didn't say anything that wasn't true, at least," amended Sirius. "He pointed out that if I
don't go back to Grimmauld Place, Regulus would become the heir. He'd have access to all
those heaps of Galleons sitting in the family vault."

"Erm," said Remus, "no offence, but surely you knew that before Uncle Alphard told you?"

"Obviously," said Sirius. "Though it turns out I didn't quite consider all the implications."

"Such as?"

"Where do you think Regulus will funnel that money?"

Recognition dawned across Remus' face. "Ah."

Sirius smiled humorlessly. "I was an idiot for not realising sooner. There's only one reason
Mulciber and his cronies are interested in Regulus, and that's for his money. There's only one
reason my parents were invited to all those summer conferences. Uncle Alphard reckons I
should go grovelling back to Grimmauld Place, if only to keep our fortune from falling into
the hands of the Death Eaters."

"I see," said Remus. On the map, the dot labelled Regulus Black left the kitchens and
vanished into the blank expanse of parchment where the dungeons should have been. "What
are you going to do, then?"

"What am I going to do? Nothing. I left Grimmauld Place, so it's not my problem anymore. I
don't care where our money goes. "

"Sure you don't," said Remus. "You're just up here brooding for fun, then."

Sirius wasn't in the mood to be teased. "Well, I was having fun before you arrived," he said
nastily. "If you're just going to be cute about everything, you can piss off."

Hurling insults at Remus made him feel better and worse at the same time. Then Remus
winced, looking genuinely hurt, and Sirius instantly regretted having said anything.
"Shit, Moony," said Sirius. "I didn't mean —"

"That was over the line."

"I know it was. I shouldn't have — I'm sorry."

Remus' smile only deepened the bags under his eyes. "Forgiven."

Sirius rolled up the map and stuffed it roughly into his bag. "I told Uncle Alphard where he
could shove it. I'm not going back to Grimmauld Place. I don't care if my parents turn my
bedroom into a guest room to let the Dark Lord summer in London. It's not my problem."

"Can you live with the consequences of that?"

Sirius smacked the Bell of Merlin with his fist. A deep, vibrating peal resonated through the
belfry. "It is NOT my responsibility to save the Blacks from themselves. My parents are a
bunch of soulless lunatics. If they want to prop up a Dark wizard, that's on THEIR
conscience. Not mine. Understood?" He glared at Remus, who looked annoyingly
unperturbed by this outburst.

"Alright," said Remus. He stood up and brushed the dust off his trousers.

"Alright?"

"Yeah," said Remus. He extended a hand towards Sirius. "Come on. It's dinner time."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to lecture me on Doing the Right Thing? You
don't even have that disappointed look you get, and I know you're disappointed. You'd rather
me be selfless. To put the cause first."

"It's funny," said Remus, as Sirius took his hand and pulled himself up. "Because you're the
one saying those things, not me."

"But you're thinking them. I know you, Moony."

Remus put a hand on Sirius' shoulder for balance as they picked their way across the wooden
beams of the belfry. "The only thing I'm thinking is that you always do the right thing in the
end." The bags under his eyes wrinkled as he smiled at Sirius. "You'll do the right thing by
your family, too."

It was completely untrue that Sirius always did the right thing, and he had a hundred
counterexamples that he wanted the throw into Remus' face. But Remus was still smiling at
him — such a gentle smile, in such a tired face — so Sirius merely huffed, and let Remus
lead the way down the tower.
A winter storm rolled in during the first days of December, blanketing the grounds of
Hogwarts in snow and ice. The chill seeped into the corridors, and even the flagstones in the
Entrance Hall were cold to the touch. Lily took to wearing a jumper under her robes — how
wizards kept warm in the winter with their ridiculous attire, she'd never know.

The cold made the castle feel austere and uninviting. Its stone walls were indifferent to the
draft blowing in. If the castle can't keep out the weather, thought Lily, how can it keep out the
Death Eaters?

She tried to banish the thought by refocusing her attention on Hide and Weep: Seeking Those
Who Wish Not to Be Found. She'd taken it from the Restricted Section and was perusing its
pages at a table near the back of the library, away from Madam Pince's prying eyes.

The book contained many ways to find a person in hiding, but unfortunately nearly all of
them involved the use of magic so Dark that Lily was certain she'd be expelled for even
suggesting it to Professor McGonagall. As she skimmed a chapter on necromancy, her mind
wandered back to her conversation with Regulus. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking
about what he had said, even when she was supposed to be focusing on other things — like
her prefect duties, her apprenticeship in the hospital wing, or her never-ending pile of
homework assignments. Or finding Sally Dearborn, she thought guiltily.

But... was it really possible that the Death Eaters could enter Hogwarts? And who else was
aware of their plans? If only she and Regulus knew… should she report what he had said to a
professor, or keep quiet for his sake? He'd said his House would do bad things to him if word
got out that he had blabbed about the Death Eaters' plans. But at the same time... if she knew
about the attack beforehand and had the chance to stop it, yet chose not to… students would
die, and it would be her fault. Lily wasn't sure she could live with the guilt.

There was a rattle at the window next to her table in the Restricted Section, startling Lily out
of her thoughts. A school owl was scratching at the frosted windowpane. Its tawny feathers
were ruffled with snow and ice, and there was a damp roll of parchment in its beak. Lily
unlatched the window as quietly as she could — Madam Pince had the hearing of a bat —
and brought the owl inside so it could defrost a bit. As it warmed itself on the windowsill, she
took the roll of parchment from the owl and opened it.

Lily,

Kindly stop by the hospital wing at your earliest convenience to discuss your options for
apprenticeship over the Christmas holidays. An opportunity has come up that I believe you
will be interested in.

— Poppy Pomfrey, R.M.W., B.C.H.

Lily's heart sank. She enjoyed her work in the hospital wing, but she had been hoping to
actually relax over the Christmas holidays. Did Madam Pomfrey expect her to stay at
Hogwarts instead of going home to see her family?

"This is a good opportunity," she said out loud, trying to muster up a bit of enthusiasm. The
owl looked at her oddly. "Healing is a competitive profession," she told the owl. Even more
so for me, she thought. With her blood status — or lack thereof — she needed all the extra
opportunities she could get.

She scribbled a reply to Madam Pomfrey — 'Yes, I'd love to, can't wait to hear more' — and
sent it off with the owl before reopening Hide and Weep. She spent nearly five minutes
reading the same paragraph over and over and decided at last that it was a lost cause. She
stuffed the tome into her bag, figuring she'd give it another go before bed. Hopefully the
subject matter wouldn't give her nightmares.

"You're not taking Advanced Dark Arts," said Madam Pince when Lily tried to check out.
"This book is for N.E.W.T.-level Dark Arts students."

"Nobody takes Advanced Dark Arts anymore," said Lily. "That subject was discontinued in
the forties. And I have a permission slip, ma'am."

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes. "What if there are students who are studying the Dark Arts
independently? What am I to tell them when they come looking for additional study
materials?"

Good God. "I'll bring it back tomorrow morning," said Lily.

"And what of the students who must study tonight?"

"Then I'd hope you would report them to Dumbledore, seeing as no student should be
studying the Dark Arts independently at Hogwarts," retorted Lily.

Madam Pince blinked. Then she nodded and made a note in her ledger. "That's the spirit."

"Er," said Lily, "what?"

Madam Pince pushed Hide and Weep towards Lily. "I had to check. A book like this is
dangerous in the wrong hands, see. But your little outburst sets my mind at ease." She
paused, looking at the ledger. "Well, well. It's no wonder. You would never dabble in the
Dark Arts anyway, would you? Not with a surname like Evans..."

"It's Abbott, actually," snapped Lily. She snatched the book from a very confused Madam
Pince and shoved it into her bag. "You'll want to change that in the ledger, I expect."

Lily left the library fuming.

When she entered the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was flipping through a copy of the
Daily Prophet at the triage desk, a half-drunk cup of tea in one hand.

Lily took the seat beside her. "You wanted to see me?" she asked, hoping her voice sound
neutral and unaffected.

Madam Pomfrey shot her a keen look. "Bad day?"

Lily crossed her arms. "Muggle-born problems."

Madam Pomfrey drew her wand, and a second mug appeared in front of Lily, full of steaming
hot tea. "Want to talk about it?"

Lily curled her hands around the mug and shrugged. "You magical folk can be so… so..."

"Prejudiced?"

"Ignorant, more like," said Lily. She took a sip of tea, appreciating the way it warmed her
insides.

"Ah," said Madam Pomfrey. "Yes. That doesn't surprise me."

"Pince thinks Muggle-borns wouldn't dabble in the Dark Arts," said Lily sullenly. "She said I
would never. Because of my surname. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"Absolutely," said Madam Pomfrey. "I have treated enough victims of Dark magic in this
infirmary to know that pure-blooded wizards are not the only ones who dabble in the Dark
Arts. If Irma Pince thinks otherwise, then she is a fool."

"Exactly!" said Lily. "I mean, it's true I don't use Dark magic. But that's because I don't want
to. Not because of my blood. I had a friend…" She swallowed. It had been a while since she'd
talked about Severus. "He's got a Muggle surname too, but he's dabbled in the Dark Arts for
as long as I've known him. And we grew up in the same Muggle town. It just goes to show,
doesn't it?"

"That it does," said Madam Pomfrey. "Try not to judge Irma too harshly, will you? I expect
she was trying to give you a compliment."

"Some compliment," said Lily. "Next time she ought to say my hair looks nice and be done
with it."

Madam Pomfrey laughed, and Lily smiled in spite of herself, feeling somewhat gratified. She
glanced at the copy of the Daily Prophet which lay on the table. "Anything good in the
news?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head briskly. "I expect you already know the answer to that
question." She tapped her wand against the paper, which rolled itself up and zoomed inside
one of the drawers of the triage desk. "Now. I assume you're here to talk about your
apprenticeship?" She rifled in the drawer of the triage desk, eventually pulling out a letter
written on lime green parchment. "I've been in contact with Benjamin Fenwick — he's the
Healer-in-Charge of the Artefact Accidents ward at St Mungo's. He has agreed to let you
work as his apprentice over the Christmas holidays, if that's something you're interested in."

Lily's heart skipped a beat. An apprenticeship at St Mungo's! It was objectively the best
wizarding hospital in Britain. All the weird cases got treated there. What kinds of things
would she see on the Artefact Accidents ward? Lots of injuries from broomstick collisions
and backfiring wands, no doubt. Maybe even the occasional exploded cauldron.
"I'm definitely interested," said Lily. "One question, though — will the apprenticeship involve
scrubbing bedpans?"

Madam Pomfrey's lips twitched. "Half of being a Healer is scrubbing bedpans. St Mungo's is
no exception."

Lily wrinkled her nose. "At least the Bubble-Head Charm helps with the smell."

"That spell wasn't around when I was an apprentice," said Madam Pomfrey ruefully. "You
kids don't know how lucky you have it."

"Come off it," said Lily. "You're how old, twenty-nine?"

Madam Pomfrey shot her a look, half-smiling. "You flatter me."

Lily smiled brightly back at her. "You'll write to Healer Fenward, then, and tell him I
accept?"

"Healer Fenwick," corrected Madam Pomfrey. "And I shall. I expect he'll want you on the
ward three days a week, plus one overnight shift. I hope you don't find sleep deprivation a
problem."

Lily unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. "I got five hours last night, and I'm doing great."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and pulled out a bottle of ink. "Off you go, then, unless you
want me to put you to work. I think there are a few bedpans I haven't gotten around to
cleaning yet…"

Sirius Black didn't feel guilty about what he had said to Uncle Alphard.

Sure, he found his mind wandering back to their conversation with a frequency that was
somewhat alarming, and his stomach went all queasy whenever he spotted Regulus at
mealtimes, but that didn't mean he felt guilty. He was of age, after all. He didn't have to go
back to Grimmauld Place. If his parents donated the majority of their considerable wealth to
the Dark Lord, what did it matter to Sirius? Legally, he was allowed to do as he pleased.

Sirius just wasn't sure why doing as he pleased made him feel so miserable.

The weather finally improved the last week before the Christmas holidays; although slate-
grey clouds still covered the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, no flakes of snow fell upon
Sirius' breakfast.

Sirius took a bite of toast and made a face. "Eurgh."

Remus folded that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. "Is something the matter?"
"The toast is off again," muttered Sirius. He cast a suspicious glance at the ceiling. "I thought
the snow was making it taste funny. But it isn't snowing today."

"Well," said Peter, "Remus did mention that our feelings can —"

"Finish that sentence and I'll show you feelings," snarled Sirius. Peter made a rude gesture at
him, unconcerned, and Sirius frowned. Threats of violence usually worked on Peter. He must
be losing his touch.

Regulus chose that moment to enter the Great Hall, and the toast Sirius was chewing seemed
to dry in his mouth. Uncle Alphard's words — 'future Death Eater' — echoed traitorously
through his mind.

It's not my problem, thought Sirius, averting his gaze. He took another sullen bite of toast and
swallowed delicately.

"That's it," said Peter encouragingly. "One bite at a time."

"Oh, sod off," said Sirius. "Where's James? Did he eat already?"

"He's training with Parvana," replied Remus.

Sirius groaned. "Again?"

Remus gave him an odd look. "They train together every Tuesday and Thursday morning,
they've both got a free period then. Haven't you noticed?"

"Oh, of course," said Sirius. "Let me just pull out James Potter's timetable, since I've got
memorised…" He pretended to unroll an imaginary sheet of parchment. "Right, looks like
Prongs has got physical training with Parvana at nine, ignoring his best mates at ten… he'll
meet with Parvana again at eleven to give her a single chaste peck on the cheek… Ooh, looks
like he actually speaks to his so-called best mates at lunch, but that's only because he wants to
copy my homework. Did I get all that right, Moony?"

"A flawless recital," said Remus with a smile. "Though it's my homework, not yours, that
he'll ask to copy during lunch, I'm afraid. He thinks your Defence essays can be a bit
scattered."

Peter snorted. "Prongs does spend quite a lot of time with Parvana, though, doesn't he?"

"That's to be expected, seeing as they're dating," said Remus.

"Dating sounds dull," said Peter. "I mean, Parv's nice and all, but she's a girl. What do they
even talk about, anyway?"

"Quidditch," said Sirius and another voice simultaneously. He looked around, surprised; Lily
Evans was standing behind them.

"Couldn't help but overhear," she said somewhat sheepishly. "They do talk quite a lot about
Quidditch though, don't they?"
"That's an understatement," said Sirius. "Bit of a bore, isn't it?"

Lily nodded, looking relieved. The back of Sirius' neck prickled, and he glanced across the
Hall; Regulus was watching them from the Slytherin table. Future Death Eater, thought
Sirius, and the breakfast in his stomach threatened to come back up.

"Well," said Lily awkwardly when Sirius didn't continue their conversation, "I've got to
swing by the Owlery, so I'll see you lot in Charms —"

Sirius jumped out of his seat. "The Owlery? I'll come too, I've got — erm… business there."
Maybe with some space from Regulus, he would stop thinking so much.

Peter groaned. "Not you, too. If you're abandoning us for a girl..."

Sirius lowered his voice so that Lily wouldn't overhear. "Don't be an idiot. I'm going to work
on the map, Pete."

Peter looked sceptical, but he didn't argue the point, and Sirius relaxed a bit. At least he'd told
a believable lie.

When Sirius and Lily reached the Owlery, he didn't pull out the map; instead, he leaned
against one of the windows, arms folded, and looked out across the grounds of Hogwarts.
Watching the other students scurry about like ants was strangely calming. It helped his
thoughts slow down.

"Black?" Lily was giving him a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

Sirius turned his gaze back towards the window. "Fine. Trying not to overthink things."

Lily joined him at the window. "Such as?"

He glanced at her. "You're nosy, you know that, Evans?"

Lily smiled brightly, unabashed. "Quite. I give good advice, too, you know."

"I'm sure you do," said Sirius. From this height, he could see smoke rising from the chimneys
in Hogsmeade. "I have family problems. That's all."

"Your brother?"

In a flash, he had pushed himself off the wall and was staring at her, taught as the string of a
bow. "What do you care about my brother? A friend of his, are you?"

She lifted her chin a little. "Of a sort."

Sirius snorted. "Looked like more than that to me at the theme park."

"Well, it's not," said Lily, though there was a blush creeping up her neck. "I know better than
to get involved with his lot."
Liar, thought Sirius. He grinned lopsidedly. "No, you don't. First Snivellus, now Reg…
You've got a soft spot for Slytherin bad boys, do you?"

He expected her to get angry, but Lily just laughed. The sound was as clear as the peal of a
bell. "Did you actually refer to your brother as a 'bad boy'?"

"Merlin's arse." Sirius smiled ruefully. "I did, didn't I?"

"Regulus is a lot of things," said Lily. "But he isn't bad."

"He's a hopeless case, more like."

Now she was angry, but it was more playful than anything. "Don't say that! He's your
brother!"

"That's exactly why I'm allowed to say it," said Sirius. "Anyway. I came up here specifically
to not think about my family, and you're ruining that for me, so send off your little package
and leave me alone."

Lily shrugged and called down one of the school owls. "It's your funeral," she said, tying the
package to the owl's leg. "Like I said, though. I give good advice."

Sirius paused. Maybe he should take her up on the offer. Just this once. "Do you know what
guilt feels like?"

Lily blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"You know. Guilt. What's it like?"

"Erm," said Lily, "well, it's not a very nice emotion, for one."

"Not nice how? Like anger, or sadness, or…?"

"Not quite like those," said Lily. She chewed on her lip as she thought. "Guilt's a bit like
being embarrassed, I suppose. It can make you feel a bit ill. Or you wonder if you ought to do
something differently… Maybe you doubt you're making the right choice…" She flushed,
though he couldn't imagine why.

"Huh," said Sirius. "Alright. Thanks." He touched his forehead to the windowpane. The glass
felt cool against his skin.

Lily was still watching him. "What do you feel guilty about?"

"Who said I feel guilty?"

Lily smirked. "It's obvious. No offence."

"Oh, sure it's obvious," said Sirius sarcastically. "At least for Lily Evans, Muggle-born
prefect and all-around wondergirl."
"Wondergirl who has excellent emotional insight," corrected Lily. "Oh, stop pouting. You
know I'm right."

"I'll stop pouting if you stop smirking."

Lily tried unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. "Done. My turn to ask a question."

Sirius groaned. How did James ever fancy this girl? She was exhausting. "I didn't know we
were taking turns."

"Of course we are! My pearls of wisdom aren't free, you know."

Sirius knew it was a losing battle. "Go on, then, Wondergirl. Ask away."

"Alright," said Lily. She took a deep breath. "Is Dumbledore a manipulative old coot who
would sacrifice the lives of Hogwarts students to advance his agenda?"

Sirius wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. "Where in Merlin's name did
that come from? Have you been reading the Quibbler?"

Lily's cheeks went scarlet. "It's something I heard from… someone. A pure-blood. He said all
the old families think Dumbledore's some sort of evil mastermind. I wanted to know if that's
true."

Sirius shook his head to clear it. "I think you have been spending too much time with the
Slytherins. Dumbledore's not — look, someone as brilliant as him, he probably does make
tough calls sometimes. But he isn't evil."

Lily didn't look convinced. "Do you think he cares about students, though? Actually cares? If
someone went to him about a sensitive matter..."

Sirius thought about Remus, and Severus Snape, and a secret he had let slip last spring. "He
does care. Trust me."

"Trust you? I want to know, I want facts —"

"Damnit, Evans," exclaimed Sirius, banging a fist against the windowpane. "You want all the
sordid details? Fine. I crossed a line last year — I know, surprise, surprise — and I should
have been expelled. But I wasn't. And you know why? Because Dumbledore knew that if I
was expelled, I wouldn't live to see my seventeenth birthday."

The flush had disappeared from Lily's cheeks; she looked horrified. "Because of your
parents? Would they really…?"

Sirius laughed harshly. "My parents wouldn't have the nerve to off me. No, I'd have done it to
myself. Maybe I'd have run away first, try surviving on my own, only to give up or get
hooked on potions in Knockturn Alley. Or maybe I'd have stayed home and done it in my
room, alone, to teach my parents a lesson. Either way, Dumbledore thought it nearly certain
that I'd try taking my own life. He laid it all out very plainly. He's seen it before, you see."
Lily's voice was soft. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"That's why Dumbledore's the Headmaster, and not you." Sirius took a savage pleasure in the
insult. "He's not some dodgy old fool playing chess with our futures. He let me stay at
Hogwarts because he cares. He valued my life when nobody else did — not even me." He
checked his watch, the Elgin that the Potters had bought him. "I'd better be getting on. Peter
gets anxious if he's left alone with Remus for too long."

He'd hopped on the cold stone bannister of the staircase, ready to slide down, when he heard
Lily's voice behind him. "Sirius."

He stilled. She'd never used his first name before. "Yeah?"

She gave him an affectionate smile. "Thanks for answering my question. I hope you stop
feeling guilty soon."

As if on cue, Sirius' stomach twisted uncomfortably. I do feel guilty, he thought. Maybe

telling Uncle Alphard 'no' had been the wrong choice. But what was he going to do about it?

"I hope so, too, Wondergirl," he said. "Good luck telling Dumbledore about your sensitive
matter." He raised a hand in farewell and slid down the bannister towards the landing far
below.

After speaking with Sirius, Lily still wasn't sure if telling a teacher about the potential Death
Eater attack was the right thing to do. She agreed with Sirius, of course; one needed only to
flip through a history book to find a multitude of examples that proved Dumbledore had
dedicated his life to helping others. And he'd done it because he cared. She had no doubt that
Dumbledore could protect Hogwarts from an attack. But could he protect Regulus from the
other Slytherins?

In the end, Lily decided to compromise. The professors needed to know about the rumour of
an attack on Hogwarts, but she wouldn't go directly to Dumbledore. Instead, she'd speak with
Professor McGonagall first.

On the last day of lessons before the Christmas holidays, Lily stayed behind after their
Transfiguration lesson had ended, ostensibly because she had spilt ink all over her desk.

"Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Lily looked up. She had spent the past five minutes attempting to mop up the ink using a
spare roll of parchment while the rest of the class filed out of the room. "Yes, Professor?"

"You are a witch, are you not?"

"Oh, yeah," said Lily. She feigned embarrassment as she pulled out her wand. "Evanesco." At
once, the ink vanished.

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched. "That's better. Now, is there a reason why you have not
rushed out of class like the rest of your cohort?"

Damn. Professor McGonagall was definitely onto her. Lily supposed her ruse had been rather
obvious. She kept her eyes on her wand, mentally rehearsing what she had planned to say.
"Right. Well. It's just…" She took a breath. "I heard a rumour, Professor."

Professor McGonagall pushed her glasses up the narrow bridge of her nose. "A rumour, at
Hogwarts? Well, I never. Is it interesting, this rumour?"

Lily smiled in spite of herself. "Well, it's not quite as good as the most recent one about
Bertrand Aubrey. Did you know people are saying he's got fingers where his toes should be?
Switching Spell gone wrong, I guess."

Professor McGonagall tutted. "That one's true, I'm afraid. Foolish boy; he waited too long to
see Madam Pomfrey. She managed to shrink them down to a proper size for toes, but they
remain distinctly finger-shaped."

She spoke with utter seriousness, but Lily had to stifle a laugh.

"Did I say something funny, Miss Evans?"

"Er, no, Professor," said Lily, biting back a smile. "I'm sorry to hear that about Bertram."

"I was, too," said Professor McGonagall briskly. "Now, I'd like to hear why you have chosen
to stay behind after class instead of packing for the Christmas holidays. What is the rumour
you have heard?"

"Ah," said Lily. "Right. It's just, well —" Don't be melodramatic, she told herself. Just state
the facts. "A friend of mine told me that Death Eaters are planning to attack Hogwarts." She
rushed to say everything before Professor McGonagall could cut in. "I don't know if it's true
or not, but I thought a teacher should know, and he wasn't going to tell anybody, so…"

"So you decided to take initiative," said Professor McGonagall. Lily nodded. "Well. Thank
you for informing me." Professor McGonagall turned to the blackboard and erased what was
written there with a wave of her wand. She looked quite unperturbed.

Lily hesitated. "Er… Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I must say, I'm a bit disappointed that it isn't further news
about the state of Bertram Aubrey's feet, but, as far as rumours go, it's not bad."

"So you're not worried?"

Professor McGonagall turned to face Lily. The expression on her face was surprisingly kind,
almost indulgent. "Miss Evans. The Headmaster and I have been aware for some time that an
attack on Hogwarts is a high priority for the Death Eaters. A castle full of children is an ideal
target for those" —her mouth twisted— "despicable criminals. As such, we have taken
extensive precautions to ensure the safety of Hogwarts and each student in it."

Lily felt quite foolish all of a sudden. Of course it wouldn't be news to Professor McGonagall
that Hogwarts was a target. "Oh. That makes sense."

"All the same, I appreciate the concern," said Professor McGonagall as she gathered a stack
of parchment into her arms. "That reminds me, Miss Evans — how goes the search for Sally
Dearborn?"

Lily grimaced. She'd been so preoccupied with lessons and her apprenticeship that she hadn't
even had time to read Hide and Weep. "Oh, er, fine. I found this tracking spell that seemed
useful, but it ended up being a waste of time." She might have been imagining it, but she
thought Professor McGonagall looked disappointed.

"Our efforts have been similarly unfruitful." Professor McGonagall's voice was clipped.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Evans…"

"Oh, right," said Lily. "Well, thanks for listening, Professor." She smiled mischievously. "I'll
let you know if I hear anything new about Bertram Aubrey."

The Hogwarts Express was slated to leave Hogsmeade Station at noon the following day, but
Lily spent the morning procrastinating on packing anyway. Instead, she listened to a serial on
the radio with Mary, Marlene and Parvana, who still had a hard time meeting Lily's eyes.
Afterwards, with barely half an hour to spare, Lily stuffed her belongings haphazardly into
her trunk and hurried with the others to the Hogwarts Express. They found an empty
compartment near the front of the train, but Parvana declined to join them, explaining
somewhat sheepishly that James Potter was saving her a seat at the back of the train.

"I've never been so happy to get away from Hogwarts," sighed Lily once they were settled in
a compartment. She gazed out the window as the train started into motion, rumbling a bit as it
trundled away from the station.

"I can't wait to be home," agreed Mary. She sat cross-legged on her seat and pulled out the
latest edition of her favourite Muggle magazine.

Marlene looked back and forth between them, frowning. "Really?"

"Really," said Lily. "I dunno if you've noticed, Marly, but the wizarding world is becoming a
bit shit for Muggle-borns. It'll be nice to spend time with normal people and forget about
wizarding politics for a while."

"I'm normal!" said Marlene.

Mary turned a page of her magazine. "I love you, Marly, but you're really not."
Marlene shrugged. "Honestly, I know the Daily Prophet's been banging on about this war
business, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. They're probably exaggerating the situation.
The Prophet's got plenty of precedence for that."

"How do you mean?" asked Mary.

"Well," said Marlene, "there was that famous incident in the early sixties. The Prophet ran an
article about a roaming werewolf pack that slaughtered an entire Muggle village. Well, a
couple of years later, an independent paper published an expose — it turned out the story
about the werewolf pack was completely false."

Mary was frowning. "Why would the Prophet publish something that wasn't true?"

"The paper's in bed with the Ministry," explained Marlene. "Apparently, they were trying to
drum up support for the Werewolf Registry that had just been created. I wouldn't be surprised
if this whole 'Muggle disappearance' thing is similar, to make sure the public approves of the
Muggle-born Protection Act."

Lily glanced at Mary, who looked similarly perplexed. Lily hadn't thought Marlene would
ever say something so… ignorant.

"I mean," said Mary hesitantly, "even if the werewolf thing was made up, I don't think what's
happening now is."

"Just you wait," said Marlene. "I bet the disappearances start slowing down any day now that
the Muggle-born Protection Act has been passed."

"We know someone who disappeared though," said Lily. "Sally Dearborn."

Marlene snorted. "You mean her father pulled her out of school because she was a political
target."

"You can't assume that," said Lily. She had to fight to keep her voice steady. "Nobody knows
what happened to her."

"What happened to Sally's beside the point, though," said Marlene.

"What's the point, then?" asked Mary. Her voice quavered, but she was gripping her
magazine so tightly the pages were starting to wrinkle. "Because if you mean to tell us that
the danger we're in is just a figment of some reporter's imagination…"

Marlene glanced at Mary, and her expression softened. "Of course not," she said quickly. "I
just meant bad news sells, and the Prophet exaggerates. That's all."

Mary nodded, relaxing, but Lily wasn't so easily pacified. "I hope that's all you meant," she
said. She pulled a handful of papers out of her bag and thrust them at Marlene. "Take a look
at these."

Marlene's eyes widened. "Are those the pamphlets McGonagall gave you? With the details of
the Muggle-born Protection Act? It's supposed to be very hush-hush, isn't it?" Her eyes swept
across the papers. "Resettlement… safe houses… Merlin's balls, Obliviation? Are they
mental?"

"They're taking the threat seriously, more like," said Lily. "Do you really think the Ministry
would go through all this trouble if the disappearances were just some made-up story by the
Prophet?"

Marlene forehead creased with worry. "No, I suppose not. Good Lord, they've even got the
MACUSA involved…"

Mary eyed the pamphlets apprehensively. "Lily, have you got any idea what your mum's
going to think about all this?"

"I haven't the foggiest," said Lily. "I wrote to her about the Muggle-born Protection Act a
while ago — before it passed the House of Lords. She sounded open to the idea, but I think
she expects magical protection to be something along the lines of a charmed amulet she can
wear. Not…"

"…Moving to America and changing her name to, I dunno, Barbra Freedom?" asked
Marlene, handing the papers back to Lily.

"Exactly," said Lily. "Plus, even if my mum went along with it, there's no way Tuney would
agree to leave England. Not ever."

"I can't imagine my family will want to move, either," said Mary glumly. "I don't think they
understand the danger they're in."

"On one hand, that's stupid and short-sighted of your families," said Marlene. "On the other,
though… how do you convince someone of a threat they can neither see nor understand?"

"Exactly," said Lily, stretching. "God, this topic is depressing. D'you understand now why we
might want a break from the wizarding world for a bit?"

Marlene nodded. "Completely."

The rest of the journey to London passed uneventfully, except for when Lily stumbled upon
James and Parvana while patrolling the corridors of the Hogwarts Express. To her relief, they
weren't doing stretching exercises. Instead, they sat side-by-side on a storage crate in the last
train car of the Hogwarts Express, unaware that Lily had pulled the door open. She backed
out quietly, red-faced, when she realised they were exchanging Christmas gifts.

As the train pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Lily and Mary changed into their
Muggle clothes, while Marlene left the compartment to find the Gryffindor Quidditch team
and bid them happy Christmas.

Lily was tying the laces on her trainers when the train jerked to a sudden stop. "Have we
arrived, then?" asked Lily, catching herself.

Mary peered out the window."Must be. Yeah, we're h—" She broke off.
"Is everything alright?" asked Lily, glancing up. Mary's face was as white as chalk. "Mary?
What's wrong?"

Mary didn't respond; she stared out the window, terrified.

"Mary?"

Mary's voice was less than a whisper. "It's the Dark Lord. He's here."

Lily's heart began to pound against her ribcage. "No," she said immediately, springing out of
her seat. "That's impossible —" Professor McGonagall said we were safe. She said they were
prepared.

Lily looked out the window. Platform Nine and Three Quarters was completely empty. No,
not completely — a tall figure stood in the middle of the platform.

He was Death itself. His skull was completely hairless, and he had slits for a nose, skin white
as bone. White as the wand he was holding. His robes swirled as if even the wind bowed to
him, and his eyes —

He looked directly at her.

He had slits for pupils and no irises, just an endless swath of crimson, as if he was bleeding
from the eyes, and Lily was going to die, she was going to be sixteen and dead, even though
she'd never had a boyfriend, never made up with Tuney, never figured out what happened to
Sally Dearborn —

Death laughed.

"Mudbloods of Hogwarts," he said. He did not raise his voice nor magically project it, yet
Lily heard him all the same. "Your professors have failed you. Your Ministry has failed you.
You think a law will keep you safe?"

He tilted his skeletal face towards the sky and raised his wand. Lily followed his gaze even as
she willed herself not to, knowing whatever he was about to do was terrible —

"MORSMORDRE," said Death, and a sickly green jet of light shot into the sky. It formed an
enormous, ghastly skull with a serpent for a tongue. The serpent unfurled itself and
descended towards the platform, its massive jaw unhinged, ready to swallow the train whole
—

"Nothing can protect you from me," said the figure. He flicked his wand, and every door of
the train flew open with a bang.

Mary whimpered. Lily wanted to reach out to her, but she felt rooted to the spot. This wasn't
happening. He wasn't real.

"It is high time I enter the public sphere," said Death. He took a single step towards the train.
He had bones for feet. "Let the Ministry doubt no more. Your corpses will be proof of my
existence." He took another step.
"Now," said Death, "wouldn't you like to know my name?"

Lily already knew who he was. He was the Reaper.

"Those who follow me call me the Dark Lord," said Death, "but I do not allow Mudbloods to
follow me." He pointed his wand at the middle of the train. There was a flash of emerald
green.

Silence.

Followed by screaming.

"Bow to death, Mudbloods," said the Reaper. "You may call me Lord Voldemort."
 The Attack on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

As soon as the ghastly skull and snake appeared in the sky, James sprang out of the seat he
had been sharing with Parvana and began to rummage through his bag. His hands closed
around the familiar silky fabric of his Invisibility Cloak, and he hurriedly draped it around his
shoulders.

Sirius, who had been glued to the window, turned to face James. There was a look of horror
on his handsome face. "Prongs, mate —"

"Stay here." James' voice was low. The figure on the platform was still speaking, which made
it difficult to concentrate. It was as if the Dark Lord's words were being whispered directly
into his ear.

Sirius wasn't so easily deterred. "If you're about to do something stupid, I'm coming with
you."

"No, you're not," said James. "You lot need to keep each other safe."

Remus had pressed both his hands over his ears. He looked at James in alarm. "You don't
know what he's got planned —"

"Sure I do," said James. "That maniac's after Muggle-borns. I've got find Lily and Mary —
make sure they're alright —"

"And what about us?" asked Peter. His voice was several octaves higher than normal.

"You've got Moony's expanding trunk to hide in," said James. "You'll be fine. Parvana, do
you know where the girls are?"

Parvana's eyes were wide as saucers, but she nodded determinedly. "They're in the carriage at
the front of the train."

"Excellent," said James, even though things were far from excellent. It would take him at
least forty-five seconds to reach the front of the train if he went at a full sprint, and he might
not have forty-five seconds to spare. He pointed at Sirius, Remus, and Peter in turn. "If
anything happens to Parvana, I'm holding you lot personally responsible, Dark wizard be
damned."

Before any of them could respond, James vanished under the Invisibility Cloak. As he bolted
out of the compartment, he realised it was going to take a lot longer than forty-five seconds to
find Lily and Mary. The corridor of the train was packed with students trying to get a glimpse
of whatever was happening on the platform.

James pushed past a large group of Hufflepuffs as quickly as he could. A few students
shrieked, apparently unaccustomed to being jostled by an invisible force, but he didn't slow.
The Dark wizard was still talking — of course the maniac would be the type to make
speeches — and James' head began to pound. He needed to go faster. The exclamations and
protests of the students he was elbowing past grew louder as he pushed his way through the
train, but there was no time to worry about that now, no time —

A group of first years blocked the door to the next carriage. One, a pale, dark-haired girl who
had already changed into her Muggle clothes, was jumping up and down, trying to see out the
window. James reached out, ready to shove her roughly aside if he had to — first years were
tough, she'd be fine —

A jet of green light shattered the window, spraying the first years with shards of glass. The
girl was mid-jump, and the curse hit her squarely in the chest.

Time seemed to slow as the spell held the girl momentarily aloft. Her mouth opened slightly;
she looked puzzled, like she couldn't believe she'd actually been hit. Then, like a candle being
snuffed, her head dropped to her chest. She fell in a heap on the floor.

The other students — they were so small, they had to be first years, maybe second — stared
at her crumpled form. A few were bleeding, injured by the shattered window, but they didn't
seem to have noticed.

Then one began to scream.

With a great effort, James forced himself to keep moving, even as the image of the girl seared
itself into his retinas. Her expression of mild confusion. Jeans with flowers embroidered on
the seams.

Lily and Mary could be next.

The Dark wizard began to speak again. His words filled James' ears like cotton. As James
ran, he clapped his hands over his ears like Remus had done. It didn't help, it didn't block him
out —

James nearly collided with the food trolley, and he realised he had reached the front of the
train. He pulled open the door to the nearest compartment without thinking, praying it was
the right one.

Inside the compartment, Lily and Mary were staring out the window. They were both in their
Muggle clothes, such obvious targets, why didn't Muggles wear robes like the rest of the
civilised world? Lily turned as the door opened, frowning, and James realised he was still
invisible under the Cloak.

"It's me," he said. He lowered the Invisibility Cloak just enough to allow his head to appear.

"Potter?" said Lily. She and Mary stared at him in bewilderment. "What — is this some sort
of joke?"

James realised they may not have heard of Invisibility Cloaks before. "No time to explain,"
he said. He crouched beneath the window and shook the Cloak, causing it to shimmer faintly.
"Get under the Cloak, quickly, come on —"
Lily exchanged a glance with Mary, then dove under the Cloak. Her arm pressed against
James' side as she knelt next to him. Mary followed suit, curling up against James' other side.

"Are we invisible now?" whispered Lily.

James put a finger to his lips and nodded. He pulled the edges of the Cloak around their
ankles, hoping they were completely concealed. The girls' trunks were still on the luggage
rack, but there was no helping that, the trunks wouldn't have fit under the Cloak anyway —

Loud cracking noises filled the air, like many fireworks going off at once.

"Apparition," breathed Lily, so quietly that James could barely hear.

"Aurors?" asked Mary.

James dared to raise his head half an inch, straining to see out the window. The Dark Lord —
Voldemort, had he called himself? — was surrounded by dozens of dark-robed figures. Their
faces were shrouded by masks.

"Not Aurors," said James in a hushed voice. "Death Eaters."

Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at the Hogwarts Express. James braced himself for
another jet of green light. Let him miss, thought James desperately, please let him miss...

Voldemort's mouth moved. "IMMOBILUS."

Every muscle in James' body froze, locking him in place. Try as he might, he couldn't move.
On either side of him, Lily and Mary stiffened — they must have been paralysed, too.

A chorus of muffled cries rose from the corridor, and James' heart began to pound. Surely
Voldemort couldn't have immobilised the entire study body of Hogwarts — surely nobody
was that powerful —

Out on the platform, Voldemort gestured at the train with his wand. The dark-robed figures
surrounding him began to march forward, wands drawn, towards the train.

There was another flash of green light, followed by laughter. Mary whimpered.

Footsteps were approaching their compartment. James tried to look towards the door, but he
couldn't so much as turn his head. He was stuck with his face pressed uncomfortably to the
window. He hoped they were well-hidden under the Cloak.

The footsteps grew louder. Just outside the door to the compartment, they stopped. Next to
James, Lily went silent; she must have been holding her breath.

There was a scraping sound as the door slid open. "Nobody in here," said a gruff voice.

"Whose trunks are these, then?" replied a haughty female voice.

The first voice grunted. "Probably belong to one of those filthy Mudbloods in the corridor."
The woman giggled. Her laugh sounded vaguely familiar. "The train reeks, doesn't it? It's a
good thing we're here to clean the place up…"

The door slammed shut behind them, and the sound of footsteps faded away. Beside him,
Lily exhaled, her breaths rapid and short.

James refocused his attention on the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Voldemort hadn't
moved; he was watching the Hogwarts Express, a satisfied expression on his cadaverous
face. Above him, the grotesque skull with the snake for a tongue cast an eerie green light over
the platform. The snake snapped its jaws as it grew larger, more life-like. Its fangs were
elongating, and a wicked light gleamed in its eyes as it stretched towards the train.

Voldemort tilted his face upward. He closed his eyes, bathing in the sickly light of the skull,
and a horrible smile stretched across his wasted lips.

Suddenly, several high, clear notes rang out across the platform. The sound was electrifying,
invigorating; it made James feel warm, as if he'd just downed a bottle of Butterbeer. The
strange, ethereal music grew louder, and the hairs on James' arms prickled.

Voldemort's horrible smile vanished. His eyes snapped open. He looked almost — afraid?

James didn't want to know what sort of thing could make a wizard as evil as Voldemort look
scared. He tried to wrench himself away from the window, even though he knew it was no
use, since he was still paralysed —

As the music rose to a crescendo, reverberating through James' bones, the curse that was
holding them in place broke. James tumbled to the floor, knocking over Lily and Mary.

"Oh, my God," said Lily, scrambling to get back under the Invisibility Cloak. "Oh my God.
What — Mary, get under here —"

Mary leapt towards the window, desperate to see what was outside. The music was so loud it
made James' teeth vibrate as it changed pitch, like a song —

"Fawkes," said James, as Mary exclaimed, "Dumbledore!"

James jumped up, Lily and Mary at his side, and flung the Cloak around them. Outside, a
blur of red and gold pierced one of the enormous skull's eye sockets. The skull and snake
vanished at once in a cloud of smoke. The phoenix streaked towards Voldemort, who barely
managed to Disapparate in time. Fawkes beat its enormous wings, skidding to a halt where
Voldemort had been standing. The bird let out a screech that made James' hair stand on end.

There was a flash of white light, and Dumbledore appeared below Fawkes on the platform.
He turned on his heel, moving surprisingly quickly for such an old man, and slashed his wand
through the air. A jet of gold burst from his wand, barrelling towards a seemingly random
corner of the platform —

There was an ear-splitting crack as the spell connected with something invisible. Plumes of
black smoke began to rise from the spot. Fawkes screeched again, and Dumbledore whirled
around, wand aloft, just as Voldemort appeared behind him. Their spells — one liquid gold,
the other emerald green — collided in midair and ricocheted away. Voldemort's spell
exploded into the wall, sending fragments of brick and dust in all directions. Dumbledore
flicked his wand, and the rubble shot towards Voldemort, but the Dark wizard vanished
before the cloud of debris could reach him.

The air filled with popping sounds, and a dozen Aurors in dragon-hide leather appeared
beside Dumbledore. They drew their wands and looked towards Dumbledore, waiting for
some kind of signal.

Dumbledore didn't move. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his keen eyes scanned the empty
platform, searching for a sign of the Dark Lord's presence. Another group of Aurors
Apparated behind him, but Dumbledore's concentration didn't falter for an instant.

There was a crack, and Voldemort reappeared, hovering — actually hovering, as if he could
fly — far above the platform. Fawkes let out a piercing cry and swooped towards
Dumbledore, who grabbed the phoenix's tail feathers. Fawkes shot upward, pulling
Dumbledore along as they streaked towards Voldemort.

The Aurors aimed their wands skyward, but Voldemort deflected their barrage of spells with
an irritated flick of his wand. His red eyes narrowed, clearly displeased at how the tables had
turned, and he made a strange gesture, dragging his wand across his forearm.

Several cracking noises sounded from the train, and the dark-robed Death Eaters Apparated
to Voldemort's side, forming a circle around him. Somehow they, too, were able to hover in
place, shielding Voldemort from Dumbledore and the Aurors. Voldemort waved his wand; he
and his followers disappeared with another loud crack, just as Fawkes and Dumbledore
hurtled through the space where they had been.

An uneasy silence settled across Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The Aurors held tight to
their wands, scouring their surroundings as if Voldemort would reappear at any moment. At
last, Dumbledore shook his head. Fawkes let out a dissatisfied-sounding cry and deposited
him onto the platform. Dumbledore motioned the nearest Auror over and began to speak with
him. James couldn't make out what they were saying, but he didn't miss the seriousness of
Dumbledore's expression.

Mary brushed against James' side as she swayed slightly. "Is it over, then? Is the Dark wizard
gone?"

"Dunno," said James. He kept his eyes on the platform, half-expecting Voldemort to reappear
at any moment. "Maybe."

Several Aurors began to perform some sort of complex counter-charm on the barrier
separating Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from King's Cross. As soon as they finished,
frantic-looking family members poured onto the platform, crying out for their children.

James inhaled sharply upon seeing their panicked expressions and tear-streaked faces. This
was real. It had really happened. Voldemort had been here, and — oh, Merlin, he had
murdered that girl. That little girl with her flowered jeans. James' ribs began to squeeze
together painfully. He was being crushed, he couldn't get enough air, and that Muggle-born
girl was dead —

"Potter?"

He blinked. Lily was watching him steadily. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe," she
said.

"We —"

"Not now," said Lily. "Just breathe."

She sounded so calm, as if she invited Lord Voldemort over for tea every Sunday. Why
wasn't she afraid? They had wanted her, those maniacs —

"Deep breaths. In through your nose. Out through your mouth."

Dumbledore is here, James reminded himself. The Aurors were here. They were safe.

"That's it," said Lily. "Inhale. Exhale."

James breathed.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Nobody was allowed to leave the train; after securing the
platform, the Aurors boarded the Hogwarts Express and stood guard outside of every
carriage. Harried-looking officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrived
soon after that to corral the panicked families into some semblance of order. James spent
nearly half an hour staring out the window, trying to spot his parents in the crowd, but the
platform was in such a state of chaos that it was hopeless. After some time, several dozen
Healers dressed in emerald green robes Apparated onto the train platform and marched
aboard the Hogwarts Express to examine the students.

"I'm fine," muttered James as a bald Healer with deep brown skin checked the state of his
humours. He could vaguely hear Lily speaking to the Healer — she seemed to be answering
the questions James had been ignoring. He gazed listlessly out the window. Two Healers
were leaving the train, pointing their wands at a grey, rectangular box hovering in the air
above them. The box was just the right size to hold a student. Maybe a first year, with dark
hair and embroidered jeans —

The Healer pressed a phial of silver potion into James' hands. James drank it dully, without
tearing his eyes from the box. The throng of worried families had noticed it too, judging by
the devastated looks on their faces. A few parents began to shout at the officers from the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They were demanding answers, James was
certain, and now a group of Healers were carrying out a second box. The Healers' expressions
were impossibly neutral, especially compared to the faces of the crying parents —

James' mind began to hum with a sense of heightened clarity, as if he'd just drunk a cup of
tea. He felt clear and alert, yet totally calm. He looked away from the window and towards
the empty phial in his hand. "What did you give me?"
The Healer smiled. "Calming Draught. How are you feeling?"

"Better," said James. He was mildly surprised to find it was true.

"Good," said the Healer. He handed them each a round decanter of purple potion out of his
briefcase. "Dreamless Sleep. Take one mouthful a night for the next week, to avoid excess
production of yellow bile. If you continue to feel unwell after a week's time, please contact St
Mungo's." With that, he snapped his briefcase shut and swept out of the compartment.

James looked at Lily. "Yellow bile?"

Lily nodded as she held her potion up to the light. "It causes anxiety, or so they say.
Especially after something horrible has happened. Wish we had these in the Muggle world —
the effects of trauma can be devastating, you know."

"Dreamless Sleep works really well, too," said Mary, tucking her potion into her bag. She
seemed much more relaxed than she had a few minutes ago, and James wondered if the
Healer had given her a Calming Draught as well. He hadn't really been paying attention.

"You've taken it before?" asked James. He'd always thought of Mary as being silly and care-
free, like the Gryffindor version of Daisy Hookum. "When were you at risk for, er, trauma-
related anxieties?"

Mary made a face. "Mulciber tried to maul me with an Inferi cat last year. It was awful."

"What a bloody psychopath," said James with rather less conviction than he felt. He peered
back out the window, passing over the grey boxes as if they were utterly unimportant. He was
hoping to see his father's shock of white hair poking out above the crowd. "When d'you think
they'll let us off this nightmare of a train? I'm getting hungry."

"You're hungry?" repeated Lily.

"What?" asked James innocently.

"Nothing," said Lily. There was a small smile playing around her lips. "You must be feeling
better, if you're hungry."

"Healing magic's amazing stuff," said James. "Seriously, though, if I sit here much longer I'm
going to go off my rocker."

Unfortunately for James, the sun had nearly set by the time the Aurors began to let them off
the train, one carriage at a time. Lily and Mary were escorted by no less than five Aurors to a
group of parents wearing Muggle clothes. A shimmering, bubble-like protective charm
surrounded the Muggle families, and Aurors were lined shoulder-to-shoulder around the
charm's perimeter. In the dim light, James could just make out Lily's red hair as she vanished
into the bubble.

"Name?" asked the Auror standing guard at the door of the train.

"Oh," said James stupidly. "Right. James Fleamont Potter."

The Auror ran his finger down a list of names. "James Fleamont Potter. You are to go home
with Lottie the house-elf, who should be in Queue Two." He jerked a thumb towards the far
end of the platform.

"Er, sorry," said James, who was certain he had misheard. "I'm going with Lottie? Not
Fleamont and Euphemia Potter?"

"Lottie the house-elf," repeated the Auror impatiently. "Queue Two, then, off you go…"

James stepped onto the platform, confused. It wasn't uncommon for house-elves to
accompany pure-blooded students with less attentive parents, but Fleamont and Euphemia
had always come to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to pick him up. James' confusion
turned into worry, but the feeling suddenly faded away. I'm sure they're fine, he thought. He
suspected he'd feel more concerned if the last of the Calming Draught wasn't coursing
through his veins.

Sirius and Lottie were standing slightly apart from Queue Two, which was less of a queue
and more of a cluster of worried parents that the surrounding Aurors could barely contain.

Sirius' shoulders sagged in relief as James approached them. "Thank Merlin. You're alright,
then?"

"I always am," said James, pulling Sirius in for a hug. "You? How're the others, did they
make it out alright? How's Parvana?"

"Everyone's fine," said Sirius. "We missed the whole thing, actually. Brilliant idea, hiding in
Moony's expanding trunk — we didn't even know it was over 'til the Aurors started making
their rounds."

"Good," said James. He turned towards Lottie, who was wringing her hands nervously.
"Lottie, where're Mum and Dad? Are they alright?"

Lottie swallowed hard. "Lottie is having orders to bring the young masters home," she
squeaked, sounding apologetic. "Miss Euphemia said to look after the young masters while
she and Master Fleamont… while they…" With a choking noise, she trailed off. Her bulbous
eyes watered.

"While they what?"

Lottie twisted her apron instead of responding. James ran his hands through his hair, which
only managed to make it look messier. "Lottie, what happened? Lord Voldemort, did he —"

"No, sir, not the Dark wizard, sir!" squeaked Lottie, staring at her spindly fingers. "Not Dark
magics, nothing like that, sir —"

"Then what? Lottie, don't scare me like this, not with the day we've had — "

A fat tear slid down Lottie's cheek. "Master Fleamont and Miss Euphemia are ill, sir."

Sirius shot him an alarmed glance, and James' blood ran cold. "How ill?"
"Very, very ill." Lottie began to sob in earnest. "Master Fleamont and Miss Euphemia are in
St Mungo's."

James and Lottie began to row, which left Sirius utterly bored; apparently, Lottie had strict
orders to take them straight home, but James wouldn't hear of it ("We're fine, we don't need
rest, honestly — take us to St Mungo's, I wanna see my parents!"). Instead of listening to the
quarrel, Sirius stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, watching the
Ministry officials bustle about Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. There were so many
Aurors — were any of them in league with the Order that Uncle Alphard had talked about?
Or did the Order operate completely separately from the Ministry?

Eventually, Lottie's tearful insistence wore James down, and she took both him and Sirius by
the hand. "We is going home," she said forcefully, and Sirius felt a familiar lurching sensation
as she Apparated them to the Potter estate.

They appeared in the foyer with a popping sound. Sirius barely had time to get his bearings
before Lottie shooed them up the stairs and bustled away to make tea. Sirius exchanged a
glance with James, whose face was oddly blank. "Shall we?"

"Be my guest," said James flatly. There was something in his tone of voice that Sirius had
never heard before. Sirius shrugged and levitated his trunk up the stairs and into the guest
bedroom. The Potters insisted the bedroom was his now, but Sirius knew better.

Across the landing, James tossed his trunk into his room with rather more force than was
strictly necessary. Sirius crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe of the guest
bedroom, watching him.

"'We is going home,'" muttered James, imitating Lottie's high-pitched voice. "What a load of
dragon dung. I'm completely fine, and my parents are in hospital, I don't see why…" He
trailed off as he pulled out his wand. He tapped it against his trunk, which burst open, and its
contents began to swirl violently around the room.

Sirius watched James' things arrange themselves. Even the textbooks seemed furious as they
whirled through the air. "Throwing a strop won't help, mate."

"Don't tell me I'm not allowed to be angry," snapped James. He jerked his wand upward, and
a set of dark green robes hurtled into his wardrobe. "My parents —"

"It's not just your parents, though, is it?" Sirius strode into James' room without waiting for
an invitation. Once he was shoulder-to-shoulder with James, he drew his wand and began to
help with the unpacking. "What happened when you went to find Lily and Mary?"

"Nothing." James made a strange jerking motion that might have been a shrug. The
movement reminded Sirius so much of Regulus that his chest twinged painfully.
"Nothing," repeated Sirius. "Just bought some sweets from the trolley, did you?"

"Alright, you git," said James, "if you're really dying to know…" And he filled Sirius in on
what had happened on the train.

When he had finished, Sirius whistled. "You realise you likely saved Lily and Mary's life,
right?"

"Er… I dunno," said James. "I'm sure they'd have been fine."

"I'm not."

James didn't meet Sirius' gaze. Instead, he scoured the room, as if he was looking for
something else that needed unpacking. He pointed his wand at the Puddlemere United
figurines lining a shelf, and the miniature Quidditch players began to rearrange themselves.

Sirius watched him closely. He'd seen James angry before — James had even been properly
angry at him last year — but this was something different. James Potter looked lost.

Sirius placed a hand on James' back. "It's alright to be upset, Prongs."

"I'm not upset," said James thickly. He gave another twitch and wiped at his eyes. Sirius
decided to take a leaf out of Remus' book and say nothing.

After a moment, James took off his glasses and began to polish them on the hem of his robes.
"I dunno," he said hoarsely. "It's just… it's all real, isn't it? The war, I mean. We've been
gallivanting around Hogwarts and feeling pleased with our cleverness, but out in the real
world, people have been dying."

Sirius sighed heavily. "Yeah. That about sums it up."

James shoved his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Why aren't you going to pieces
about it, too, then? You're so calm. You're acting like — like Evans was. Why isn't everybody
— I mean, they're killing people, Sirius. Voldemort killed that girl, and I saw it. We're at war,
and… and —"

Sirius sat on James' bed. He examined his wand before responding, trying to put the thoughts
in his brain in the right order. "I dunno where you've been, mate, but we've been at war for
some time now. My lunatic family's been supporting the Dark Lord for years. Trying to
strong-arm me and Reg into joining up with the Death Eaters." He pretended to gag. "This
might be the first you and I have had to deal with it directly, but trust me, the war's been
going on for a while."

"I'm an idiot," said James. "I never realised."

"Granted, you are an idiot," said Sirius, "but not for this. Your parents sheltered you from the
worst of it. That's a good thing."

James shook his head and sat beside Sirius on the bed. "Your family is awful."
"Really? That's funny, I hadn't noticed…"

"You should've been born a Potter," said James. "I know you're of age and all, but it's not too
late to change your name."

Sirius' smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Shame you didn't have a sister. I could've married
into the family."

"I mean, I'm still available," said James.

Sirius laughed. "Won't Parvana get jealous, though?"

"Oh," said James, his smile fading. "Yeah, I suppose. I kind of…"

"…Forgot about her, just now?"

James grimaced. "Don't tell anyone about that."

"I'm no expert, mate," said Sirius, "but the relationships I've been in usually involve a little
less Quidditch talk and a little more snogging."

"Since when have you been the relationship expert of the group? Pete's had more girlfriends
than you —"

"Only because of that stint in third year when everyone thought he was sensitive —"

"Hit a nerve, did I?" said James, and he gave Sirius a playful shove. "Out of my room, Black.
I've got a date with a bottle of Dreamless Sleep, and I hear she's excellent in bed."

Lily woke before sunrise the next morning, feeling unusually well-rested. As she turned over
in bed, ready to fall back asleep, the previous day's events burst to the forefront of her mind
with such clarity that she jerked awake. The Dark Lord and his followers had attacked the
Hogwarts Express, and James Potter, of all people, had come to her rescue. There had been
dozens of Death Eaters — that awful skull and snake made of smoke — and a few students
had died, hadn't they?

Lily shuddered as she remembered the horrible, helpless feeling of being paralysed under the
Dark Lord's curse. At least she hadn't had nightmares, thanks to the phial of the Dreamless
Sleep that the Healer had given her. She got out of bed reluctantly — it would be impossible
to fall back asleep after thinking about all that — and padded downstairs, still in her
nightgown.

Her mother was already at the kitchen table, pouring over the stack of pamphlets about the
Muggle-born Protection Act that Lily had brought home. Lily stood behind her mum's chair
and bent down to hug her. Her mum closed her eyes and tilted her head against Lily's.
"What do you think?" asked Lily at last. She took a seat beside her mum and poured herself
some tea.

Lily's mother shook her head. "I'm not sure what to think. After what happened yesterday…
It seems foolish to not take the Ministry's advice. But…" She trailed off, fiddling with the
edge of a pamphlet entitled Relocation Administration: Why Muggles like You Are Making
the Move.

"America's a long way away," said Lily softly. "Even for wizards, it's far."

Her mum nodded. "What do you think of the other options?"

"Don't get Obliviated." Lily stirred sugar into her tea rather more fiercely than she'd intended.
"They'll erase your memories — it's exactly as horrible as it sounds." She swallowed. "You'd
forget me."

"They'd find it hard to Obliviate me, then," said her mum. "There's nothing they could do to
make me forget you."

She squeezed Lily's hand, and a lump rose in Lily's throat. "The protective charms seem like
a decent option," Lily offered, wiping her eyes. She pushed a relevant pamphlet towards her
mum. "I researched them a bit. They're effective, and you wouldn't have to leave town."

Her mother nodded. "That's what I was thinking, too."

"Moving to America is probably overkill, anyway," said Lily. "Nobody's going to go after our
family. Why would they? I'm just a student. I've never even met a Death Eater." Except for
Severus, she thought. But he wouldn't hurt them. Probably.

"I agree," said Lily's mum. "We'll do the protective charms. I'll take care of these forms and
send them off to your Ministry today."

Lily bit her lip. She hoped they were making the right choice. "Sounds great, Mum."

Her mum began to fill out one of the many forms on the table — using an actual, normal,
biro, not a ridiculous quill — and Lily glanced at that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet.
The front page was emblazoned with a massive picture of the ghoulish skull and snake
undulating above Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Above the photograph was the headline,
which read: LORD VOLDEMORT MAKES FIRST APPEARANCE, MURDERS TWO ON
HOGWARTS EXPRESS.

"I don't want you going back to that school," said Lily's mum. Her voice wavered as she
stared at the photograph plastered across the front page.

"I have to go back, though," said Lily. "I have to take my N.E.W.T.s. "

"You could go to Elmwood Academy with Petunia," suggested her mum. "I'm sure Tuney
would help you acclimate —"
"Mum, please," said Lily. "I can do magic. Actual, real magic. How happy d'you think I'd be
studying maths at Elmwood?"

Her mum smiled sadly. "I thought you might say something like that."

Lily flipped the Daily Prophet over, so that neither of them could see the picture of the skull.
"Besides, we've got Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts. He's the greatest wizard of all time
— he fought off Lord Voldemort single-handedly yesterday. I watched it happen, Mum, and
Voldemort was scared of Dumbledore. I think that's why the train was attacked, and not
Hogwarts itself. Voldemort didn't want to fight Dumbledore one-on-one because he knew
he'd lose."

"The paper said the same thing," said Lily's mum. "Dumbledore's got quite a lot of titles,
hasn't he? Headmaster at Hogwarts and Chief Mugwump on the Wizem — the Winzen — the
Wizarding jury, anyway…"

"Yeah, he's done loads," said Lily. "Back in the forties there was another Dark Lord named
Grindelwald who was even worse than Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore was the wizard who
defeated him, too."

Footsteps sounded from the stairs as Petunia came down for breakfast. Lily and her mum
looked at each other.

"Shall we put these away?" asked Lily's mother, gathering the Prophet and a handful of
pamphlets into her arms.

"Brilliant idea," said Lily, and they stuffed the various papers into a drawer.

"What's going on?" asked Petunia as she entered the kitchen. "Why do you two look so
guilty?"

Lily and her mum exchanged glances. Petunia didn't know about what had happened the day
before.

"Nothing," said Lily's mum at last.

Petunia's nostrils flared. "You're hiding something."

"We were planning a birthday surprise for you," said her mum at the same time Lily said,
"Just gossiping about Mrs Roberts' hideous new trellis."

Petunia crossed her arms. "Nice," she said. "Really nice, lying to my face."

"Now, Petunia — " began their mother.

Lily cut her off. "You want the truth, Tuney? Fine. An evil wizard killed two students from
my school yesterday because they were from non-magical families. Just like me. So now
Mum and I are discussing our options. Would you rather move to America or have your
memory erased?"
Petunia's mouth dropped open. A flush crept up Lily's neck, but she didn't break eye contact
with Petunia.

"I didn't know that had happened," said Petunia at last.

"Now you do," said Lily.

Petunia's lips pressed into a line. After a moment, she sat primly across the table from Lily.
"Is there tea?"

Lily pushed the teapot towards Petunia warily.

Petunia stirred two sugars into her tea, just as Lily had done. "Well," she said finally, looking
up from her teacup at Lily. "I'm glad you're alright."

For the second time that morning, Lily's eyes watered. "Thanks, Tuney. Me, too."
 Wand and Bone
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The following morning, a pair of soot-stained Ministry workers knocked on the front door of
the Evans house.

Lily opened the door, expecting the postman. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the two
wizards standing in the middle of her sleepy Muggle street. Had they come to deliver more
bad news? Maybe Hogwarts had been attacked this time — or Hogsmeade, or Diagon
Alley…

"Lily Evans?" asked one, a middle-aged wizard whose brown goatee was stained grey with
ash. He flashed a badge pinned to his robes at her. "Dilwyn Gritworth of the Floo Network
Authority."

"Oh," said Lily, relieved. They weren't Aurors, then. Just normal Ministry employees. But
what were they doing in Cokeworth? Maybe they had gotten lost. "Can I help you?"

"We're here to have a look at your fireplace," said Gritworth. "Been told you require a
connection with St Mungo's."

Lily relaxed. Madam Pomfrey must have written the Ministry about her apprenticeship. She
ushered Gritworth and his partner inside and shut the door quickly behind them. Hopefully
the neighbours hadn't noticed the strange men who had just Apparated into plain view.

"The sitting room's this way," she said loudly when Gritworth lingered in the foyer, gawping
at the light bulb affixed to the ceiling. She wondered how often Muggle fireplaces were
connected to the Floo Network. Probably never. Her mum didn't seem bothered by
Gritworth's staring; she was ogling him with a similar expression, mouth slightly ajar.

In the sitting room, Gritworth was immediately taken with the Muggle photographs atop the
mantel. "These don't move at all, then?" he asked Lily as his partner poked and prodded at the
fireplace.

"The one on the end does if you stare at it long enough," lied Lily, which earned her a
disapproving look from her mum. Gritworth nodded solemnly and spent the better part of the
next hour keeping one eye on the photograph while his partner did most of the work.

"Well, you're all set," said Gritworth cheerfully once they had finished. "Shame I didn't see
that photograph move, though. Surely if we stay five more minutes..."

"Er, think I saw it waving earlier," said Lily. "You must have missed it, sorry..." She held the
front door open for them, and Gritworth craned his neck to get a view of the first-floor
landing as they left.
Lily shut the door gently. She rolled her eyes at her mum. "Some professional demeanour
they had."

Her mother was busy examining the bag of Floo powder the workers had left on the mantel.
"Oh, Lily, there's no need to take things so personally. I'm sure they were just as interested in
us as we were in them." She took a pinch of Floo powder and rolled it between her thumb and
fingers.

"Careful with that," said Lily. "One wrong syllable and you'll end up in Barcelona instead of
Birmingham."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," said her mum, sighing wistfully. Lily grinned.

That Thursday, Lily had her first shift at St Mungo's. At precisely half-six in the morning, she
stepped into the green flames crackling in her fireplace. "St Mungo's," she said, stifling a
yawn. The flames roared, and her stomach lurched violently as she spun downwards, into the
Floo Network.

Floo Powder was technically Lily's favourite means of travel by magic, but that didn't mean
she enjoyed it. She didn't see why every magical method of transportation had to feel like you
were riding a particularly unpleasant roller coaster. After a dizzying amount of twists and
turns, she stumbled, coughing, into a large waiting room.

The room was packed with witches and wizards, all sporting an astonishing array of ailments.
Some sat quietly in the many rows of wooden chairs, while others paced about the room,
wailing. In one corner, a whole family of partially-Transfigured Veela huddled together,
blinking their birdlike eyes and clawing at their beaks. Healers in lime green robes strode
from patient to patient, examining them. One woman appeared to be made of snow, and
several Healers were placing blocks of ice around her in an effort to keep her from melting.

Lily tried not to stare as she made her way through the waiting room. As she approached the
front desk, she nearly unbalanced a wizard whose bottom half had been replaced by a large
spinning top.

"Sorry, sorry…" she said, steadying him. The man responded in a language she didn't
understand. Lily gave him an apologetic smile and turned to the front desk, which was
marked Inquiries.

Behind the desk sat a bored-looking witch with slightly pointed ears. She was taking notes as
an elderly wizard who had nothing obviously wrong with him explained his predicament.

"… Me back was never the same after that, which is why, in sixty-two—"

"Nineteen sixty-two?" interrupted the pointy-eared witch.

"Eighteen sixty-two, marm. Anyway, it all started on me brother Mydan's birthday — t'were
an unusually rainy day for summer, I'll tell you that, I still remember…"
The pointy-eared witch noticed Lily and quieted the man with a bored wave of her hand.
"Can I help you?"

"I think so," said Lily. She glanced at the emblem of St Mungo's — a wand and bone, crossed
— that was pinned to the witch's robes. "I'm Lily Evans, I'm supposed to be apprenticing with
Healer Fenwick. Did Madam Pomfrey send an owl?"

The witch shuffled through a stack of papers sitting on her desk. "Lily Evans… yes, I think I
remember, Poppy mentioned an apprentice over the Christmas holidays…" She ran a finger
down a piece of parchment. "Right, here you are. Everything looks to be in order, then. This
week Fenwick is covering on the second floor — Magical Bugs, where we treat infectious
diseases, you know… Look for the Camille Grenoille ward, it'll be on the left."

"Brilliant, thanks," said Lily. As she slipped away from the desk, the elderly wizard at the
front of the queue continued his monologue, oblivious to the sighs of the people behind him.

A rickety staircase, lit only by the occasional brazier, led to the second-floor corridor.
Massive oil paintings of formidable-looking Healers lined the walls of the corridor,
occasionally interspersed with doors leading to funny-sounding wards. Lily passed a door
covered in lichen marked Fungal Fevers. Further down the corridor was another door, which
was bolted shut and bound with many sets of chains. At last, she arrived at a plain-looking
door marked Camille Grenoille Ward: Contagious Diseases.

Lily tried the handle, but the door was locked. As she lifted her hand to knock, the door
swung open, and a tall, gangly figure peered down at her.

Lily's first thought was that she was being examined by an astronaut; the figure wore a puffy
white suit, complete with boots and gloves, and an enormous helmet made of reflective
material circled his head. It looked like the outfits she'd seen Americans wearing on the telly.

"Er," said Lily. "Healer Fenwick?"

"That's the one," said a voice from under the helmet, sounding pleased. "And you are?"

"Lily Evans, sir," she said. "Here for an apprenticeship."

"Here to double my work, more like," said Healer Fenwick jovially. "And there's no need to
'sir' me. Not unless you want to make me feel old." He removed his helmet and stuck out a
gloved hand for her to shake. His tan face was just as stretched out as the rest of him, and all
of his features seemed lopsided. His nose was bent in several places, and even the smile he
was giving her was crooked.

"It's a pleasure," Lily said, shaking his hand. "And I hope I won't slow you down that much."

"Oh, you shall," said Healer Fenwick happily. "As the Healer Solomon Shem once said, show
me an apprentice who merely triples my work and I will kiss the hem of his robes. Or hers, as
the case may be." He jerked a thumb towards one of the portraits, where a rotund Healer with
patchy blond hair was glaring pointedly at Lily. The plaque under the portrait read: Solomon
Shem, 1609-1687, Responsible for Both Creating and Resolving the Healer Shortage of the
1600s. Lily waved at the portrait, which responded with a rude gesture.

Healer Fenwick laughed. "It's a good thing you were born in this century, eh? Anyway, to
business…" He pulled out his wand and conjured a set of emerald green robes, which he
handed to her. "There's a changing room at the end of the corridor. Take a right at the portrait
of Dilys Derwent."

In the changing room, Lily took a couple of seconds to admire herself in the mirror. With the
lime green robes, she looked every bit as professional as the Healers she had seen in the
waiting room. Just below the emblem of St Mungo's on the front of her robes were the words
Lily Evans, Apprentice Healer.

Healer Fenwick nodded approvingly as she rejoined him. "Much better. Want a protective
suit?"

Lily looked sceptically at his outfit. "Do I need one?"

"Depends on who you ask," he replied. "The Healers on this floor are so used to magical bugs
that they barely blink when a patient with Loser's Lurgy is admitted to the ward. As for
myself, I'm not looking to come down with a hideously disfiguring case of Spattergroit —
hence the protective gear."

Lily peered through the window set into the door of the ward. Inside, all the Healers and
orderlies were dressed in their normal green robes. There were even a few visiting family
members milling about in casual dress. "You don't think the spacesuit is… overkill?"

Healer Fenwick shrugged and jammed the helmet back over his head. "There's a reason I
normally work in Artefact Accidents."

"Because you're afraid of germs?"

"Quiet, you," said Healer Fenwick as he ushered her into the ward. "My ego's fragile enough
without your help."

As they entered the ward, one of the orderlies nodded at Healer Fenwick. "Your apprentice
didn't want a suit, too, then, Benjy?"

"I refuse to be shamed by the likes of you, Shufflebottom," replied Healer Fenwick.

The orderly winked at Lily. "By the way," he said, addressing Healer Fenwick, "Wilhelma
Widdershins says she's begun to grow pustules again, if you wouldn't mind taking a look…"

"Gladly," said Healer Fenwick. "Ready to learn, Evans?"

Lily followed behind him as he clomped down the ward. He looked like a scarecrow in a
spacesuit. "Er," she said, with a look around at the beds, most of which were occupied by
sleeping patients. "Sorry, but this is an infectious disease ward, right?"
"Unfortunately," responded Healer Fenwick. He came to a halt beside a bed where a woman
with a painful-looking pattern of boils across her face was lying. "Why do you ask?"

"I assumed the patients would be quarantined, if they were infectious."

"Ah," said Healer Fenwick. His helmeted head turned towards Lily. "No, quarantine is an
outdated Muggle concept. You must be Muggle-born, then? Or a half-blood?"

"Muggle-born," said Lily fiercely, "and if that's going to be a problem —"

"Not at all!" said Healer Fenwick, sounding positively alarmed. "Sorry, sorry, should've had
more tact. I'd just assumed Poppy — Madam Pomfrey — she didn't tell you…?"

"Tell me what?" Lily braced herself for another disappointing revelation about Muggle-borns.
Maybe St Mungo's only hired pure-bloods. Maybe she wasn't allowed to treat certain
diseases, on account of her heritage —

"Well, there's no need to look like that," said Healer Fenwick. "I've had duel training, that's
all. I'm both Muggle physician and Healer, you know."

Lily's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"Yeah, I had integrated training," he said. "Doesn't exist anymore — too dangerous, the
political climate being what it is — but having admitting privileges at the local Muggle
hospital comes in dead handy sometimes. I'd assumed Poppy had told you. That's why most
Hogwarts students apprentice with me, to learn a bit about Muggle Healing."

"Oh," said Lily. Her mind was still catching up to Healer Fenwick's revelation. "Well. I guess
I understand why Madam Pomfrey wanted me to do my apprenticeship with you, then. I
wonder why she didn't tell you I was Muggle-born?"

"She probably didn't think it was relevant," said Healer Fenwick. He spoke so casually that
Lily felt something warm in her chest. Her blood status was always relevant. To hear him say
otherwise… It felt like hope.

"Is that where you got the spacesuit from, then?" she asked. "From the Muggles?"

Healer Fenwick winked. "Trade secret, Miss Evans." He bent over the woman with the boils
and drew his wand. "Now. To answer your earlier question, wizards don't use quarantine. We
have spells that work better than that." He gestured towards the patient, and Lily realised that
the woman's mouth and nose were covered with a translucent film, like a soap bubble, which
fluttered in and out as she breathed.

Healer Fenwick grinned at Lily's expression. "Flu Filtration Charm. Excellent for illnesses
that spread through the air. We also use it when the germs are coming out the other end, but
you don't want to see that. And of course, blood-borne diseases don't need any special
precautions, provided the patient isn't actively bleeding. How're you feeling, Mrs
Widdershins?"
The woman in the bed stirred, blinking blearily up at them. "Like I've been trampled by a
hippogriff."

"Excellent, coming along well, then," said Healer Fenwick. He produced a clipboard from
thin air and scribbled something on it, though he seemed to have a hard time holding the quill
with his gloves on. "I'll be back this afternoon with your Pustule-Popping Potion, alright?"

The woman didn't respond; she had already fallen back asleep.

"One consult down, thirty-one to go," said Healer Fenwick happily. He was already moving
to the next bed, where a man with purple skin was reading the Daily Prophet. "Alright, Mr
Rackharrow? Coughed up any blackberries this morning?"

Lily followed Healer Fenwick as he worked his way down the ward, slightly in awe. She
wished she had thought to bring some parchment to take notes with.

As they came to the last two beds on the ward, Healer Fenwick threw out an arm, bringing
Lily to a halt. "Right," he said, "remember how I told you wizards don't use quarantine?"

The air around the two beds was shimmering. Lily could recognise a protective charm when
she saw one, and judging by the haziness of the air, these beds were surrounded by a lot of
protective charms. "I'm guessing you used a simplified explanation so I wouldn't get
confused."

"Precisely," said Healer Fenwick. He made sure the neck of his suit was fully zipped. "Unlike
Muggle doctors, Healers don't lock patients up in single rooms as if they're in Azkaban. But
there are certain diseases — generally very rare and extremely deadly — that are spread by
touch."

Lily squinted, trying to get a better view of the two patients behind the protective charms.
Both looked to be elderly, and they were lying so still in their beds that at first Lily thought
they were dead. As she looked closer, her stomach churned. The patients barely seemed
human; their skin looked like it was sloughing off, and their faces were covered in green
scales.

"We're calling it dragonpox," said Healer Fenwick, his voice suddenly much more serious.
"The first cases appeared in Hungary a few centuries ago, but it's only recently made its way
to Britain. It's extremely contagious — the scales are infectious, see. Deadly enough when a
young person gets it, but at their age… "

"Oh," said Lily in a small voice. She had only seen true sickness once, with Regulus Black.
Even with her lack of experience, she could tell that these two patients were very ill indeed.
"Can they — I mean, is there a treatment?"

"There is, but it only works if you take it before symptoms appear," said Healer Fenwick.
"These two didn't know they'd been exposed until they started belching smoke, so treatment
wasn't an option for them. All we can do now is try to keep them alive until they shed the
scales."
"That's it?" asked Lily. She'd always thought Healing magic could work miracles. "There's
nothing else you can do?"

"Not in this case, unfortunately. There are a few potions that can speed up the process of
shedding the scales, but the side-effects are… unpleasant, to say the least. Not appropriate for
these two, what with their advanced age and all."

"How long until they recover?"

"'Recover' isn't the right word," he said. "If they survive… at their age, the best we can hope
for is a temporary remission. But the dragonpox will always come back, and each time it does
it will be more deadly."

Lily bit her lip, her eyes on the unmoving patients. "I see."

"I'm hoping one of them will pull through," said Healer Fenwick. "At least for a while longer.
They've got a son, and no other living relatives to take care of him." He sighed heavily as he
gazed through the protective charms. "But then, they've never been a large family, the
Potters."

James had no news from St Mungo's until the following Monday when the face of a Healer
with a crooked nose and tan skin appeared in the kitchen fireplace during breakfast.

James nearly choked on his toast as he scrambled to get up from the table, but Lottie the
house-elf reached the fireplace first. "Good morning, Master Healer," she squeaked, her voice
trembling with emotion. "Does Master Healer bring news of the Potters?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" asked James, kneeling next to Lottie. "Are they alright?"

"'Alright' is a stretch," replied the Healer, who sounded far too flippant for James' taste. "I've
got good news for you, though. Your father has begun to shed his scales, and we're predicting
your mother will do the same within a few days."

"Well that's — that's great, right?" asked James. Sirius bent beside him and put a hand on
James' shoulder.

Green flames licked up the sides of the Healer's head as he nodded. "If they continue to
improve, I daresay you'll be able to visit within the week. Your parents are made of strong
stuff."

"Of course they are," said James proudly. "They're the best."

Lottie wiped away a tear, an expression of relief on her tiny face. "Master Healer will tell
Lottie when we is allowed to visit?"
"'Course," said the Healer. His eyes roamed over the table, which was laid out with breakfast.
"I don't reckon you can spare any food to feed a growing Healer, can you?"

"Master Healer can have whatever he wants!" squealed Lottie, and she pushed an armful of
sausages into the fire.

The Healer, looking pleased, glanced down at something they couldn't see. "Cheers, thanks."
There was a popping sound as his head vanished from the fire.

A couple of days later, the Healer reappeared in the fireplace, true to his word. "Come on
over," he said, smiling crookedly. "It'll be another week or so before they're well enough to
leave, but they're awake and no longer contagious."

"Oh, thank God," said Sirius as James and Lottie hugged each other. "I'll get the Floo powder,
yeah?"

They managed to Floo to St Mungo's within the hour. They tumbled into the packed waiting
room and bypassed the queue entirely in favour of rushing up the stairs. "This way, this
way!" urged Lottie as they reached the second-floor corridor, and James followed her without
hesitation. House-elf magic was so different from human magic that James was certain that
Lottie somehow knew exactly where his parents were.

Lottie skidded to a halt next to a large painting of a fat blond Healer and rapped on the door
of the adjacent ward. "Lottie the House-Elf, James Potter, and Sirius Black!" she cried shrilly.
"We is here to see Fleamont and Euphemia Potter!"

The door swung open, and Lottie raced inside. James followed her at a jog while Sirius
brought up the rear, his hands in his pockets.

"Potter, did you say?" asked an orderly with four blonde pigtails that stuck out of her head at
odd angles. "They'll be the beds at the end, there…"

James nodded his thanks and continued to jog down the ward. Lottie had somehow reached
the beds already and was speaking earnestly to a female Healer with dark red hair who was
examining James' father. The Healer glanced up as James approached, and he froze mid-
stride.

"Evans?" he asked as Sirius collided into his back.

Lily looked guilty for some reason. "Erm, Potter, hi…"

"Do you two know each other?" asked Fleamont Potter from his bed. He propped himself
gingerly on his elbows, wincing, and Lily adjusted the pillow behind his back.

"Yeah, I — we —" spluttered James. "Dad."

Fleamont Potter smiled, and James rushed forward to hug him. His father felt so frail under
his arms — it was like he was made of parchment and bone. He felt so old.
"I love you," muttered James as his father's thin arms encircled him. "I'm so glad you're
alright."

James' father stroked his hair, which did nothing to smooth it down. "I love you, too, son."

Sirius and Lily exchanged glances. "Er," said Sirius awkwardly. "Hi, Fleamont."

Fleamont Potter looked up. "There's my second son!" He gestured for Sirius to join the hug.

Lily cleared her throat. "I'll, erm, leave you to it. If you need anything, Fleamont, I'll be — or
someone will, anyway — you can just call, and…" She ran off before finishing her sentence.

James wasn't paying attention; he was too busy examining his father critically. "You've lost
weight. Are they feeding you? Do the house-elves here know how you like your breakfast?"

"Lottie will speak to them!" said Lottie sternly. "Lottie will be very cross if they isn't taking
care of Master Potter how they should —"

In the other bed, Euphemia Potter sat up slowly, bringing her legs cautiously over the side of
the bed. "The food here is fine, Lottie," she chided as James ran into her arms. "How are you,
my son?"

"I'm fine." James' voice was muffled. His mother still smelled like vanilla. "How're you?
You're what's important, that nutter of a Healer said you nearly died —"

"Oh, tosh," said Fleamont Potter, shaking his head dismissively. "We're just fine, aren't we? A
few more days and we'll be right as rain."

"We've been more concerned about you," said Euphemia. She held James at arm's length,
looking him up and down. "Are you sure you're alright? Lily told us about what happened on
the Hogwarts Express —"

James blinked. So his parents were on first-name terms with Lily Evans, now? "That — that
was nothing, not compared to what you've been through —"

"Nothing?" said his father loudly. "That's not what Lily told us."

James flinched. "What did she say, exactly?"

"She told us that you saved her life," said Euphemia, taking his hand. "She said you hid her
and another Muggle-born girl under the Invisibility Cloak when the Dark Lord's followers
were searching your compartment."

"Your ancestors would be so proud," added Fleamont. "Ignatus Peverell himself couldn't have
found a better use for the Cloak. Hiding from Death, indeed!"

James shoved his glasses roughly up the bridge of his nose, not sure what to say. He was used
to his parents doting on him — that was their default relationship — but this was different.
They were looking at him as if he'd done something incredible. Something heroic. "It's
nothing," he managed at last. "You would have done the same, both of you."
"Let us hope we never have to find out," replied Fleamont.

Euphemia squeezed James' hand. "How are you feeling, otherwise? Lily said you were quite
shaken by the ordeal."

"Healer Fenwick has excellent contacts in the Psychic Damage ward upstairs," added
Fleamont. "He has assured us it would be no problem to have you examined, if you feel —"

"That's not — I'm fine, I promise!" said James. "There were Healers who examined us after
— while we were still on the train, I mean... I had to take a couple of potions for a while, but
I'm fine now. Really."

Euphemia looked like she didn't believe him, but wasn't going to argue the point. "You'll let
us know if you feel something is wrong, won't you?"

"Of course," said James. "Sirius, tell them —" He broke off, looking around. Sirius was
nowhere in sight.

Fleamont frowned. "I didn't notice him leave…"

"Probably went for a smoke," said James. "Bad Muggle habit of his. I'll go find him. You two
stay put." He gave his parents a stern look, as if they were plotting to vanish the moment he
turned his back.

He nearly bumped into Lily as he was leaving the ward. "Erm, sorry, Evans," he said,
steadying her. "You haven't seen Sirius, have you?"

"Yeah, I have, actually," said Lily. "He was muttering something about needing a fag."

"Brilliant," said James. "Thanks."

"That's quite alright," said Lily. Her voice sounded very high-pitched and not at all like her
usual self.

They looked at each other for a moment.

"Actually —" said James, at the same time Lily said, "I meant to say —"

They paused.

"Go ahead," said James.

"No, that's alright. You were saying?"

James let out an exasperated sigh, glancing around the ward. At the far end of the room, his
parents were very obviously watching them. "Alright, come on, then," he said at last, and he
grabbed her by the sleeve and dragged her out of the ward and into the corridor.

Lily snatched her sleeve out of James' grasp as soon as the door swung shut behind them.
"What's this about, then?"
"Why'd you tell my parents I saved your life?" countered James.

"Er," said Lily, "because it's the truth?"

"No, it isn't."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Lily. "I didn't realise there was another term for when you keep someone
from being killed."

"Come off it," said James. "When you put it like that, it sounds —"

"…Ridiculously selfless, like something James Potter would never be capable of?"

James didn't smile. "Exactly."

Lily's expression softened. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I wanted to thank you."

"No need." James shrugged a shoulder. "You would've done the same for me."

Lily shook her head. "No. I wouldn't have."

James snorted. "Yeah, right. Do you honestly think you would've sat idly by while a bunch of
lunatic Death Eaters hunted me down?"

Lily looked like she wanted to cry. "Maybe."

"Don't tell yourself that, because it's not true," said James firmly. "We might not be best
mates, but I know you better than that. You would've gone after me if the situation was
reversed. I'm sure of it."

Lily bit her lip. "Well. Then. Thanks for doing what anyone would've done, I suppose."

"That's more like it," said James, and the tightness in his chest eased up a bit. He wasn't sure
he could have taken much more of being treated like a hero. "And thank you, I guess."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For being there for my parents when they were ill. Seems like you took good care of them."

Lily flushed. "Oh, no — I'm only an apprentice, I don't do anything important…"

"You keep telling yourself that, Evans," said James.

"I'm not telling myself anything, it's the truth —" Lily broke off. "Why are you smiling like
that?"

"I'm not," said James innocently. "You're cute when you're trying to be modest, you know
that, Evans? Haven't seen that side of you very often, considering you're always showing off
at Hogwarts during lessons —"
"'Showing off'? That's rich, coming from you. Who was it that jumped on his desk during
History of Magic and shouted about how he could recite A Ballad of Goblin Warfare by
heart?"

"I did, obviously," said James. "But you were the one that corrected my second verse, as only
a true show-off would —"

"It was the third verse, actually, but that's only because no ancient goblin ballad would rhyme
'grassy knoll' with 'bung —' "

There was a rap on the window set into the door, and they sprang apart. Healer Fenwick was
grinning at them on the other side of the glass. He pointed to Lily and James, then formed a
heart with his hands.

"I don't like that Healer," muttered James.

"You don't like him?" said Lily, whose face had gone scarlet. "He's the reason your parents
are alive —"

Healer Fenwick pointed at Lily and tapped his watch. Then he turned and vanished into the
ward.

"Looks like duty calls," said James. "I should go, too. Need to keep Sirius from polluting his
lungs."

"Right," said Lily, her blush fading a little. "I guess they'll be needing me back on the ward.
See you later?"

"Count on it," said James. "I'll see you around, Evans."

Sirius was on the tube, sandwiched between a man with a long beard and an overweight
woman in a floral dress, when he felt a burning sensation coming from the pocket of his
jeans.

He sighed loudly, earning him a disapproving look from the woman, and pulled the two-way
mirror out of his pocket. "Yes?"

"Pads." James' face in the mirror was backlit by the braziers that lit the corridors of St
Mungo's. "Where are you?"

"Went for a smoke."

James squinted, shoving his glasses up his nose. "Really? 'Cause it looks to me like you're on
the tube. Are you alright?"
"Yeah, fine," said Sirius brusquely. "Look, don't worry about me, okay? Enjoy your time with
your parents. I'll see you in a bit."

"A bit," repeated James. "How long, exactly, is a —"

Sirius shoved the mirror back in his pocket. The woman in the floral dress was watching him
warily, as if she suspected he was mentally unbalanced. He supposed he had just been having
a conversation with a mirror.

As the train slowed to a stop, Sirius pretended to lunge at the woman, and she flinched.
Satisfied, he jumped onto the platform before anyone could reprimand him. He ducked into a
nearby alley to transform into Padfoot and paused just long enough to dig in a dustbin before
trotting north.

The sun had nearly set by the time he arrived at Grimmauld Place. It looked exactly as he'd
remembered it, save for the layer of fluffy snow that blanketed the garden. He slipped quietly
through the bars of the cast-iron fence and slunk up to the front door. He sniffed
apprehensively. From the smell of it, his parents had left not long ago and had yet to return.

There was a light flickering in one of the upstairs windows. To get on the roof, Sirius had to
shift back into human form. The snow crunched beneath him as he knelt on the sloping roof,
and he shivered as he tapped on the window.

After a moment, Regulus appeared at the glass. When he saw Sirius kneeling on the roof, he
let out a huge sigh. Sirius gave Regulus a small wave and mimed opening the window.
Regulus crossed his arms. Sirius looked at him a moment, then shrugged and drew his wand.

Regulus threw open the window and pulled Sirius inside before Sirius could blast it open.

"Finally," said Sirius, "I think I've got frostbite on my —"

"Kreacher's nearby," said Regulus, and Sirius' mouth snapped shut. Regulus pointed his wand
at his bedroom door, and several clicks sounded as the door locked itself. "What're you doing
here?"

Sirius strode across the room, glancing over the cutouts from the Daily Prophet that were
plastered on the walls. He threw open Regulus' wardrobe, searching for the good furs he'd
inherited from their grandparents. "I'm moving back in, little brother. Where's the mink stole?
I'm telling you, I think the cold damaged my —"

"Moving in," said Regulus flatly. Sirius could have hugged him; he'd missed his brother's
composure. "Why? What changed?"

"Well," said Sirius as he wrapped himself in the mink stole and flopped onto Regulus' bed, "I
don't know if you realised, but a madman attacked the Hogwarts Express and murdered
several children because they'd committed the heinous crime of having Muggles for parents.
Sound familiar?"

Regulus blanched. "I was there, yes."

"One of them was in Gryffindor," said Sirius conversationally. "Amy Roberts."

Regulus' knuckles were white as he gripped his desk. "Stop it."

"I didn't know her well, but she was supposedly top of her year at Warming Charms —"

"I know what you're doing. Stop it."

"She was in the Gobstones Club and the recreational Quidditch league. D'you know how old
she was, Reg?"

Regulus didn't respond; his eyes were fixed on his journal where it lay open on his desk.

"She was twelve." Sirius' voice was less casual now; he was nearly snarling. "Twelve, and
she's dead, dead, at the hands of the madman who you worship —"

"I do not worship —"

"You've plastered your room with articles about him!" Sirius bounded off the bed, rapping on
the walls for emphasis. "You've joined up with Mulciber and his gang —"

"I had no choice!" Regulus let out a startled cry as Sirius grabbed him by the neck of his
robes, hoisting him nearly off the ground.

"You're lying to yourself. We always have a choice. Always."

"Our parents," gasped Regulus. He twisted uselessly in Sirius' grasp.

"Fuck our parents. You hate them as much as I do."

"I don't hate —"

"Then you're a soft-hearted idiot," said Sirius. He flung Regulus roughly aside and turned to
the journal on his desk. The journal was open to a page bearing a half-finished skull and
snake, shrouded in coal-black smoke.

"Nice, Sirius," said Regulus from the ground. "Really lovely. You know who you sound
like?"

"Dunno," said Sirius, flicking through the journal. "The voice of reason?"

"No," panted Regulus as he staggered to his feet. "You sound like our father."

Sirius paused. "That," he said. He took a breath. "That was not my intention."

"You're just as much of a bully as he is," said Regulus. He slid the journal out of Sirius'
hands.

"I'm not — I wasn't —"

"You are," said Regulus. "Don't act like you've got some moral high ground. Severus told me
what you tried to do to him last year."

Sirius groaned in frustration, running his hands through his hair. "That's — that completely
beside the point, Reg. You don't know the whole story —"

Regulus shrugged. He sat on his bed and flicked through his journal until he found where he
had left off. "You don't have to justify yourself to me. I'm not judging you for it. I'm just
saying you're not better than Mulciber. Or our father."

"I strongly disagree."

"Good for you," said Regulus. "Why are you here, Sirius?"

Sirius leaned against the bedpost, watching Regulus smudge charcoal along the contours of
the skull. "I told you. I'm moving back in."

"Why? Did the Potters kick you out, too?"

Sirius flinched. "No, they — they're ill. I figured they've got enough to be getting on with
without me underfoot. Not to mention that I, er, talked to Uncle Alphard last Hogsmeade
weekend."

The eyes of the skull were pools of endless black. "And?"

"He reckons I ought to accept my position as heir, make sure the family money goes to the
right people. He, erm, wasn't too keen on the idea of you using the Black fortune to bolster
the Dark Lord's coffers."

Regulus' hand stilled. The stick of charcoal hovered over the paper. "Ah."

"Yeah," said Sirius. "I told him to shove it at the time — thought he was just after what I
could do for him. But now, after the whole Hogwarts Express thing, well…"

Regulus' posture was so straight it looked uncomfortable. "You think he has a point."

"I do, funnily enough," said Sirius. "Nothing good is going to come from you inheriting the
family fortune. No offence."

Regulus pressed his charcoal to the paper so hard the tip snapped off. "Do you really think
I'm so devoted to the Dark Lord and his cause that making me the heir would be dangerous?
You think I'm that much of a sycophant?"

"Er," said Sirius. He looked at the articles from the Prophet that were plastered to the walls.
"Yeah, I do. Sorry."

Regulus said nothing for a moment. Then he thrust his journal towards Sirius. "Look towards
the back."
Sirius took the journal and opened it hesitantly. He flipped past a few sketches of the
Hogwarts founders until he came to a page covered in drawings of what appeared to be
medieval torture implements. Sirius recognised them as instruments their father had collected
for years — spiked maces and hideous iron clamps meant for pulling things apart.

"I'm confused," he said. "Why did you do an art study on our father's most prized
possessions?"

"I didn't." Regulus lowered his voice and leaned forward until his head was nearly touching
Sirius'. For a moment, it was like they were ten years younger and plotting how to convince
Kreacher to serve them extra pudding. "These aren't drawings." He touched his wand to the
paper, and the sketches moved, drawn to the wand as if it were a magnet. Carefully, Regulus
pulled his wand upwards, and a spiked mace lifted out of the pages of the journal, dangling
on the tip of the wand like a fish on a hook.

Sirius stared. "What?"

"Great-Uncle Harfang was an artist," said Regulus. "This spell was hidden in his book of art
that Father keeps in the library." He rotated his wand, and the mace twisted with it. "As a
result, things have been mysteriously vanishing from Father's study since the summer. He's
been quite perplexed. Hard to discipline Kreacher without his favourite tools, you see." With
a flick of his wand, the mace sank back into the pages of the journal, a mere drawing once
more.

"Godric's mane, Reg," said Sirius, "You've got a weird amount of love for Kreacher, I'll give
you that much. If Father ever finds out…"

Regulus lifted his pointed chin. "I know the risks. I'm not an idiot. And I'm not — not — a
mindless follower of the Dark Lord. I know good from evil."

"Then why? Why are you on their side?" Sirius hated the desperate, pleading note in his
voice. He never begged. "They treat human beings worse than Father's ever done Kreacher
—"

"I don't expect you to understand," said Regulus, picking up his charcoal.

"Explain it to me, then."

Regulus was silent for nearly five minutes as he finished sketching the skull. "My only goal
is to survive the war," he said at last. "Their side's simply offering better odds."

Later that evening, Sirius went to his room and unpacked his belongings, clinging to the
improbable hope that Uncle Alphard's Memory Charms had faded. Maybe he wouldn't have
to live at Grimmauld Place again after all. Maybe when his parents came home they would be
furious, forcing him to run away again. He could tell Uncle Alphard that he'd tried to do the
right thing, but it just hadn't worked out.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Uncle Alphard was skilled at Obliviation; when Sirius' parents
returned home, his mother cried with joy to see him slouching against the bannister of the
stairs. As she embraced him, the last of Sirius' hope that he wouldn't have to live with his
family again faded.

Once she had dried her tears, Walburga Black summoned Kreacher, who whipped up a feast
for dinner. Sirius did his best to act hungry. Orion Black was more reserved in his affections,
but the next morning he invited Sirius into his study, showing him the thick rolls of
parchment that contained the details of the household investments. Just like that, Sirius began
to adjust to a new routine, one that consisted of breakfast with his mother and Regulus in the
morning and Floo calls to Gringotts in the afternoon.

He absolutely hated it.

"I need a fag," he moaned one evening, throwing himself onto Regulus' bed.

Regulus was perched on a stool in the middle of the room, working on a life-size painting of
their mother that she had inexplicably commissioned. "Close the door, will you?"

Sirius complied. Regulus pulled out his wand and pointed it at his bureau. One of its drawers
slid open, and his journal flew out of the drawer and through the air. It landed in Sirius'
hands, opening itself up to a page containing a drawing of a carton of cigarettes. The carton
rose from the pages of the journal long enough for Sirius to grab a cigarette.

"Brilliant spell, that," said Sirius. He lit the tip of the cigarette with his wand and took a deep
drag.

Regulus returned his attention to the painting."What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Your muse, for one," said Sirius, jerking his head towards the canvas. "I spent the past two
hours bartering with Eldridge Borgin over a cursed kettle Mum would like to have."

Regulus' nose twitched. "I've never liked Borgin."

"That makes two of us." Sirius exhaled, sending a plume of smoke into the air. "You don't
happen to know any Dark magic that predicts a person's deathday, do you? Uncle Alphard
gives our parents a decade till they pop their clogs, but I'm hoping it'll be sooner."

"There are a few ways to figure out a deathday, actually," said Regulus. "Nothing you'd be
willing to partake in, though."

"Don't assume that about me."

"Alright. How do you feel about slaughtering a virgin during the new moon?"

"Depends on the virgin," said Sirius. "Snivellus wouldn't be a problem. Anyone else,
though…"
Regulus looked like he was biting back a smile. "That's what I thought."

The holidays at Grimmauld Place passed dramatically, as they were wont to do. On
Christmas Eve, Kreacher reported to Walburga that Regulus' room smelled of smoke, which
led to her discovering the contents of Regulus' journal. Unfortunately, she was familiar with
Great-Uncle Harfang's methods for hiding things, so the cigarettes were summarily Vanished
and the medieval tools were returned to their rightful place in Orion's study.

On Christmas Day, Walburga forbade Sirius and Regulus from spending time together
unsupervised. On Boxing Day, Sirius locked himself in his room and refused to come out.
Later that evening, Regulus brought a large, shaggy black dog into the parlour, informing his
mother proudly that Padfoot had returned after his mysterious six-month absence, and wasn't
it lovely to have the family pet back again?

On New Year's Eve, a sleek-looking raven rapped on Regulus' windowpane, clutching an

envelope clutched in its beak. Regulus unlatched the window, and the bird swooped in just
long enough to deposit its letter atop Padfoot's snout before soaring back out the window.

"Got mail, have you?" asked Regulus, scratching Padfoot behind the ears. "I'll open this for
you. What do you think?" The dog bobbed its head, and Regulus slit the envelope open.

"'Sirius,'" he read, "'your parents tell me you've moved back in over the holidays. I am
pleased to hear it and confident you've made the right choice. I've got a bit of a belated
Christmas present for you, in fact — consider it a token of my appreciation. What say we
meet this Sunday in the Leaky Cauldron? My treat'. It's signed from Uncle Alphard."

By the time Regulus finished reading, Sirius had shifted back to his human form, though he
was laying on his stomach in the same way Padfoot had done. "Whatever Christmas present
he's got for me, I don't want it."

"Are you certain?" asked Regulus. "It could be something good. Maybe he bought a Golden
Goose and wants to give you one of the eggs."

Sirius snorted. "If Uncle Alphard had that kind of money, he wouldn't need me to play nice
with our parents."

"Fair point," said Regulus. "I'll be interested to know what he gives you, then."

"Want to go in my place?"

Regulus turned back towards his painting of Walburga. There was a hint of a smile on his
face. "Not on your life."

That Sunday, Sirius unlatched Regulus' window and snuck out of Grimmauld Place while his
parents were occupied with the gift Padfoot had left them on the drawing room rug. It was a
short walk to the nearest tube station, and he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron feeling proud for
having mastered Muggle transportation.
The pub was nearly empty, which Sirius supposed was just a sign of the times. Not too many
people cared to stop for a drink when there was a war on. He raised a hand in greeting to
Tom, the barkeep, and scanned the darkly lit pub for Uncle Alphard.

His uncle wasn't hard to find; he was seated in a dimly lit corner booth beside a slender, dark-
robed figure who was holding a long, thin cigar. A line smoke rose lazily from the tip of the
cigar and formed a thick grey cloud around the figure's head. The cloud of smoke obscured
the figure so completely that Sirius couldn't tell if they were a man or a woman. Probably one
of Uncle Alphard's friends — he'd always kept strange company.

"Happy Christmas, Uncle Alphard," said Sirius, taking a seat. "Hope I didn't keep you
waiting long."

"Not at all." Uncle Alphard inclined his head in greeting. "I'm glad you could join us — I was
worried your parents would prevent you from leaving Grimmauld Place."

"They keep me on a tight leash," said Sirius, grinning at his own joke.

Uncle Alphard returned Sirius' smile. "Do I need to have a word with my sister? They ought
to allow you some freedoms… I would be happy to step in if they are being too restrictive."

"Nah, Mum's fine," said Sirius. "Batty as ever, but that's her baseline. I'm telling you, though,
if my parents live a single day longer than ten years…"

"…Then I personally will dispatch a team of Aurors to finish the job," said Uncle Alphard.
The figure next to him laughed, sending swirling patterns through the cloud of smoke around
their head.

Sirius squinted, trying to see through the smoke, but it was no use. "I don't think we've met,"
he said at last, stretching his hand across the table. "I'm Alphard's nephew — Sirius Black."

The figure shook back a sleeve and extended a hand towards Sirius. Their skin was a deep,
cool brown. The colour made Sirius' hand look like it belonged to an Inferius in comparison.

"This is a colleague of mine," said Uncle Alphard. "A member of Dumbledore's resistance —
the Order, if you will."

"Brilliant," said Sirius. "The smoke's a privacy charm, I assume?"

"Something like that," replied the figure, whose voice was distinctly feminine. "I have to be
careful in certain spaces." She waved a hand in front of her face, and the cloud of smoke
parted slightly. Sirius caught a glimpse of fluffy dark hair, mischievous eyes, and a gap
between her front teeth as she smiled —

Sirius jumped out of his seat, reaching for his wand. "If you've laid one hand on her — If
you've Obliviated her, I swear to God I'll —" He froze mid-sentence as his muscles seized
abruptly in place.

Uncle Alphard leaned forward and plucked Sirius' wand out of his rigid hand. He placed the
wand carefully on the table and glanced around at the patrons of the pub, who were looking
 their way curiously. "Let me offer you a deal, Sirius. You refrain from making a scene, and I
will lift the Full-Body Bind I have placed upon you so that we all may converse a little more
freely. Are we agreed?"

Sirius wanted nothing better than to tell Uncle Alphard where he could stick his wand. He
tried to glare at his uncle, which was largely ineffective, considering he didn't have use of his
facial muscles. Uncle Alphard smiled serenely back.

"Mmmph," said Sirius at last.

Uncle Alphard brightened. "Excellent. I thought you'd come around." He muttered the
countercurse, and Sirius' muscles relaxed. He collapsed into his seat, his legs weak, and dared
to glance at the girl — the witch? — beside Uncle Alphard. Her face was hidden again,
completely obscured by smoke.

"Now," said Uncle Alphard, "I believe some re-introductions are necessary. Sirius Black,
allow me to introduce my fellow Order member, Dorcas Meadowes. Dorcas Meadowes,
Sirius Black."

Chapter End Notes

If anyone caught the House of God references, good on ya. :) Until next time!
 Found and Lost

"You're a witch," said Sirius. "Merlin's bleeding arse. How can you be a witch? You were
lying to me? All this time, I've been worried sick, but you — you made it out of Grimmauld
Place in one piece. Of course you did, because you're a witch."

Dorcas drummed her fingers on the table as he spoke. "No," she said when he had finished.
"I'm not a witch."

That was even more confusing. "What —" said Sirius. "Then how —"

"Perhaps," said Uncle Alphard, rolling his wand between his fingers, "we would be better
served by speaking privately." Dorcas nodded and tapped her cigar against the table. Smoke
rose from the cigar's tip to obscure her face while Uncle Alphard muttered a string of privacy
charms. Sirius felt like his ears had been stuffed with cotton as the privacy charms settled
over the table like a blanket.

"Right," said Sirius to Dorcas once Uncle Alphard had finished. "You're not a witch. Are you
a Squib, then?"

Dorcas shook her head. "I'm a Muggle, Sirius. I'd never heard of magic before I met you."

Sirius jabbed a finger at Uncle Alphard. "But this git says you're a member of the Order. So
you're fighting the Dark Lord, then? How is that possible, if you're not a witch?"

Dorcas paused, angling her body towards Uncle Alphard. "It's a long story."

"I've got time," said Sirius. "You can start at the beginning. I want to know what happened
after Kreacher took you back."

Dorcas nodded. "He — Kreacher — grabbed me, and the next thing I knew, I was in my
bedroom. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. So I went back to Grimmauld Place —"

"You did not —"

The cloud of smoke around Dorcas' head swirled angrily. "Well, I wanted to be sure you were
alright! It was strange, though — when I went back, there was a creepy-looking house that I'd
never seen before. Black front door, with a silver door knocker in the shape of a snake..."

"Yeah, that's Number Twelve," said Sirius, surprised. "My family's house. You could see it?"

"Yeah," said Dorcas. "I guess the secrecy charms didn't work on me anymore, since I'd been
inside. I knew that that house had to be yours, but I didn't dare knock on the door — I'm not
an idiot. Instead, I hid in the park across the street and waited to see if you would show up."

She paused as Tom the barkeep placed three streaming mugs of Butterbeer on their table. As
he shuffled off, she continued. "I was there ages — started to think I'd imagined the whole
thing, the street was so quiet. It was nearly midnight when he arrived." She gestured towards
Uncle Alphard. "There was a loud noise — it sounded like a gun had gone off, and I thought
your family might've shot you or something, but then he appeared on the pavement. He went
inside Number Twelve, and I stayed in the park. A few hours later, he came out and I saw
him disappear — Apparate, I mean." The smoke drifted lazily around her head as she spoke,
swirling with every breath she took. "That's when I knew I hadn't gone mad. Magic was real,
and I'd just seen a man disappear into thin air. I went back to the park every day for a week
after that. I had questions, thought maybe you'd come out. But I never saw you, or anyone
else."

Sirius groaned. "I'm such an idiot. I searched for you in London, must've spent weeks
looking. But I never went back to Grimmauld Place, because — well, you know why. I
should've known you were there the whole time, looking for me."

"Not the whole time," said Uncle Alphard smoothly. "Dorcas here changed tactics after
growing tired of casing Grimmauld Place."

Sirius tensed. "I don't like the way you put that."

"Yes," said Uncle Alphard, "well, her intentions were good, but —"

"I can speak for myself, you know," said Dorcas. Her expression was hidden behind the cloud
of smoke, but she sounded embarrassed.

"Please do," said Uncle Alphard. He leaned back in his seat, one hand still on his wand. "I'm
interested to hear why you thought going into the Leaky Cauldron and asking after the Black
family was a brilliant idea."

"No," said Sirius immediately.

Dorcas's voice was sheepish. "Er. Yes."

Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Isn't this pub supposed to be hidden from
Muggles? How did you even find it?"

"I figured there had to be more magical people in London," said Dorcas. "Your family
couldn't have been the only ones — not in London, after all. So I started following people
who seemed — funny. Strangely dressed, or using odd words. There were loads of dead ends,
but eventually I saw a man go into a pub that appeared out of nowhere, like your house had.
One moment it wasn't there, and the next it was. So I just… followed the man inside."

"It didn't take an Auror to figure out she didn't belong," said Uncle Alphard. "She went right
up to old Tom and asked if he'd heard of the Black family. He had, of course — everybody in
wizarding Britain knows our surname — so he poured her a drink and asked her what she
wanted to know. She got quite a bit of information out of him, too, or so I'm told. The real
problem came when it was time for her to pay."

Sirius groaned. "You gave him Muggle money?"

"I hadn't realised!" said Dorcas.

Uncle Alphard smiled wryly. "It dawned on Tom that something wasn't quite right when she
placed a five pound note in his hand. He phoned the Improper Use of Magic Office — told
them a Muggle girl was in the Leaky Cauldron, asking about the Blacks." His smile grew
wider. "My boss thought it fitting that I be the one to Obliviate her."

Sirius' head was starting to ache. "What were you thinking?" he asked Dorcas. "I told you
there are people who would make you forget! What did you expect to happen?"

"Well, I didn't forget, did I?"

"Clearly," said Sirius. "Why?"

"I took her to one of the vacant rooms above the Leaky Cauldron to Obliviate her," said
Uncle Alphard. "We started talking."

"Talking," said Sirius, crossing his arms. "Do you usually talk to your victims?"

"I recognised her," said Uncle Alphard, ignoring Sirius' question. "From your parent's
memories."

Sirius gripped his arms so tightly his skin was turning white. "The memories you Obliviated."

"Yes," said Uncle Alphard. "The memories I removed for your benefit."

Sirius snorted. "Some benefit. So what did you two talk about? Did you swap horror stories
about my parents?"

"Hardly," said Uncle Alphard. "You should have seen her — dressed in black robes, a false
wand at her hip. She looked every bit the young witch. If she hadn't been asking after the
Blacks, nobody would have been the wiser. Not only that, but she found her way into the
Leaky Cauldron — very tricky thing for a Muggle to do without help. I was impressed."

"He offered me a job," said Dorcas smugly.

Sirius nearly leapt out of his seat; he banged his leg against the underside of the table and
swore. "He offered you a WHAT?"

"Not a Ministry job, if that's what you're thinking," said Uncle Alphard. He glanced around at
the pub and leaned in closer, his fingers curling around his wand. "I thought someone like her
could be of great use to the Order. And she has been."

He had to be joking. "That," said Sirius through gritted teeth, "is so much worse than a job
with the Ministry."

"It's not," said Dorcas defensively. "Alphard explained the situation a bit — about the Dark
wizard, and his followers — and I told him that of course I wanted to fight back." She sat up
a little straighter. "The Death Eaters are going after people like me, aren't they? Why
shouldn't I be a part of the resistance?"
"Er, let me think," said Sirius. "Maybe because you could die?" He couldn't believe he had to
spell this out for her.

"But Dorcas hasn't died," said Uncle Alphard smoothly. "She's been an invaluable asset so
far. I brought her along today because I thought you might be interested in knowing that she
was alive."

"I am interested," said Sirius, "but you could have sent an owl. You could have Floo-called,
instead of doing this song and dance about sensitive information and meeting in person…" He
raked his hands roughly through his hair. "God, I can't believe I'm the voice of reason here,
you don't know how weird this feels —"

Uncle Alphard didn't look at all offended. "That's the nature of the Black family tree. We
each believe the other branches are more tangled than our own."

"Cute," said Sirius. He turned towards Dorcas. "I realise my uncle didn't write on account of
being from the loony bin, but what's your excuse? Surely you know how our post works by
now. You could've owled — said you were okay —"

"Er," said Dorcas. She sounded faintly embarrassed, but it was impossible to tell if she was
blushing behind the cloud of smoke. "Look, there's no way to say this without sounding like a
prat, yeah, but I was told that communicating with wizards outside the Order could
compromise the integrity of our mission."

"You do sound like a prat," said Sirius with a smirk. "Remind me again what the mission of
your precious Order is? Fighting evil side-by-side with Dumbledore? No offence, but I don't
see how he could have much use for someone who can't even do magic —"

"— Then you are small-minded indeed," said Uncle Alphard. He placed a few Sickles on the
table and stood up. "If you two are going to discuss the Order in more depth, I would ask that
you do it in Muggle London — away from prying ears."

Sirius looked around the pub, which was practically empty. Even Tom the barkeep appeared
to be taking a nap behind the counter. "Suit yourself," he said. "Dorcas, fancy a stroll along
the Thames?"

"Why not, weirdo," said Dorcas, pulling on her coat. "We still have some catching up to do."

"Find me in in Diagon Alley once you have finished," said Uncle Alphard, addressing
Dorcas. "I have business there I must attend to. You know how to contact me. Sirius, I must
bid you farewell."

Sirius fought the urge to snicker as Uncle Alphard swept away. His family was so dramatic.

"Want me to pay for these?" he asked Dorcas, indicating the half-drunk mugs of Butterbeer.
"Or have you figured out how Galleons work?"

"Very funny," said Dorcas. "I seem to remember you having similar troubles with banknotes
at the ice cream parlour last summer."
Sirius placed a few Sickles on the table. "Touché."

It was snowing lightly as they stepped onto the bustling street. Dorcas put out her cigar, and
the cloud of smoke slowly drifted away from her face. "Cute toy," said Sirius, nodding at the
cigar. "Thought you didn't smoke, though."

Dorcas grinned at him. He'd missed the gap between her teeth. "I don't. It's only for show.
Works well, though, doesn't it?"

"It does," said Sirius. "Wizarding Britain's full of nutters trying to disguise themselves, you
blend right in." They turned down a side street and he surreptitiously cast a Warming Charm
on both of them.

"I'm not fighting the Dark Lord, you know," said Dorcas once they were out of earshot of any
passersby. "That's not what the Order's about."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's the Ministry's job to keep You-Know-Who and his followers at bay. They're the
fighters. The Order is more concerned with gathering information and keeping people safe.
Muggles and Muggle-borns, specifically."

"So you don't fight?"

"Of course not. What good would I be in a duel against the Death Eaters? I help with…
finding things. Safe housing in Muggle London for people who need it. Or locating Squibs
and Muggle-borns who are trying to live as Muggles, who might want extra protection. The
Order does things like that. Not fighting."

She led him to a zebra crossing. Sirius tried not to stare at the cars — there were so many
cars! — as they crossed. Dorcas laughed at his expression. "Still fascinated by motors, are
you?"

"Ah," said Sirius, coming to a halt. He suddenly felt guilty. "That reminds me. Your
motorbike…"

"My father's motorbike."

Sirius winced. "Right. The motorbike that belonged to your dearly departed father… I took
it."

"I noticed," said Dorcas coolly. They'd reached the street along the river, and Sirius wished
the frigid water would swallow him up.

"I can give it back," he said. "It's at Hogwarts, but I could borrow a dozen owls, maybe, and
send it to you. Only one problem, though."

"Which is?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "It flies now."

"Exclusively?"

"Pretty much. Lifts off the ground at any gear above first."

Dorcas sighed. "You shouldn't have —"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" protested Sirius. "It was accidental magic. I was trying to get
away from Grimmauld Place and it just… happened."

Dorcas said nothing. Sirius felt disappointment radiating from her so strongly he doubted
they needed the Warming Charm.

They passed under a large bridge held up by steel cables and Muggle ingenuity, and Dorcas
finally spoke. "You can have the bike."

"I don't want it," said Sirius, which was a lie; he'd never wanted anything more in all his life.

"It's fine," said Dorcas. "I've got no use for a flying motorbike. We Muggles can't fall more
than about three metres without seriously injuring ourselves, you know."

Sirius wasn't sure how tall a metre was, but three of anything didn't sound very impressive.
"I'm sorry," he said, but apologising didn't make him feel any less rotten. "I'm really sorry. I
know the bike was important to you. I could buy you another…"

"I don't want another," said Dorcas. "It's alright. Really. I have other things to remember my
father by."

They walked in silence along the river. Sirius had thought he'd missed her, but now that they
were together there was distance between them, and that distance grew wider with every lull
in the conversation. Somehow, by joining the wizarding world, she'd grown apart from him,
instead of closer.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said, because he didn't know what else to say and the silence was
so loud that he needed to say something. "I thought about you a lot, when I was at school."

Dorcas smiled. The light from the street lamp overhead shone off the curve of her cheek. "I
thought about you a lot, too. Alphard kept me informed of his plans for you. I was surprised
to hear you went back to your family — I honestly didn't expect you to actually listen to
him."

"Me neither," said Sirius. "But after what happened on the Hogwarts Express…" He trailed
off. The water of the Thames shimmered with light from street lamps and boats and
buildings. Muggles had built this city out of nothing. Who knew what they would be capable
of, if they had just an ounce of magic? Small wonder Lord Voldemort was terrified of them.

"I should go," said Dorcas, checking her watch. "Alphard and I have a meeting at six."

"Oh," said Sirius. "Alright. Need to take a bus, or…?"

"Nah," said Dorcas, and she pulled a carton of cigarettes out of her robes.
"You carry around a lot of tobacco for someone who doesn't smoke."

She flashed him a smile. "They're Portkeys."

"You're joking."

She opened the lid of the carton so he could see. Twenty-four white cigarettes, neatly
arranged in rows, were nestled inside. "There's one for every hour of the day," she explained.
"Each leads to a secure location — Order headquarters, meeting spots, that sort of thing.
Good for getting around quickly, and useful if I land in a bind, too. Can't say I enjoy the
sensation of travelling by Portkey though."

"That's brilliant," said Sirius. "Your idea?"

"Of course," said Dorcas. "The other people in the Order are very good about helping me
enchant things that could be useful. They don't mind that I'm a Muggle at all. I've got loads of
stuff like this, to keep me safe and to help with missions."

She pulled out what looked like a deck of playing cards and handed one to him.

"Use this if you ever need to contact me. Most Order members communicate via Patronus,
but that's a problem for me, obviously. We came up with this as a solution."

Sirius turned over the card, which featured a regal woman and a leaf-like symbol in the
corner. They'd studied playing cards in Muggle Studies, but it took him a moment to recall
the different suits. "This one… the queen of clubs?"

"Good job," said Dorcas, pleased. "Say my name if you need me, and we'll be able to talk
through the card. The clubs symbol at the top acts as a sort of compass, too; instead of
pointing towards north, it'll point to me. Useful if we ever need to find each other."

Sirius pocketed the card, thinking privately that Dorcas had invented a better method of
communication than the mirror he and James used. "Got it, thanks. Guess I'll be seeing you,
then?"

"Probably," said Dorcas. "Unless your parents strangle you, or the Death Eaters get to me
first."

"I wish they'd strangle me," said Sirius. "That'd put me out of my suffering."

Dorcas laughed. "I'm glad to see you again," she said. "Take good care of that bike, alright?"

Sirius nodded. Dorcas pulled a cigarette out of the carton and touched it to her lips.
Immediately, she vanished into thin air, and Sirius was left alone on the pavement with only
the light from the street lamps and the gentle lapping of the water for company.
On Tuesday, Lily had her last shift at St. Mungo's. Healer Fenwick, still in his spacesuit, gave
her an awkward, stiff-armed hug good-bye and promised her that he'd arrange another
apprenticeship for her over the Easter holidays — and in the Artefact Accidents ward, this
time.

A letter from Professor McGonagall arrived the next morning, informing her that the
Hogwarts Express was out of service until the Ministry could ensure its safety, and that Lily
was instead to Floo to Hogwarts at the start of the new term. So, on the last day of the winter
holidays, she said good-bye to her mother and Petunia in the sitting room, while a grey-robed
wizard from the Ministry hovered behind the sofa, anxious to disconnect their fireplace from
the Floo Network.

Lily embraced her mother fiercely and gave Petunia an awkward little hug, then climbed into
the emerald green flames. The fire flared brightly, obscuring her vision, and her stomach
lurched as she was sucked into the Floo Network. It took nearly five vomit-inducing minutes
to travel to Hogwarts; she caught glimpses of dozens of different grates as she spun, her body
pulled this way and that. At last, she stumbled onto the carpet of Professor McGonagall's
office, clutching her stomach.

Professor McGonagall was seated at her desk, checking names off a scroll of parchment.
"Miss Evans. I'm glad to see you safely back at Hogwarts." Her tone was crisp and
professional, but she looked as if she'd aged ten years since Lily had seen her last. Deep lines
tugged the corners of her mouth downwards, and an untidy tendril of hair had escaped from
the bun at the nape of her neck.

Lily stopped abruptly, her trunk banging painfully against her heels. She'd never seen
Professor McGonagall look so distressed. "Professor. Are you alright?"

"Of course I am," replied Professor McGonagall curtly.

Lily frowned. One of the students who had been killed during the attack on the Hogwarts
Express had been in Gryffindor. What was her name — Amy something. Roberts, perhaps?
Had Professor McGonagall had been the one to break the news to her parents?

"Professor," said Lily. "I'm so sorry about Amy. I…" Was it her imagination, or were
Professor McGonagall's eyes watering?

"Thank you, Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall. "I am sorry as well." Her voice
wavered.

"It wasn't your fault," said Lily softly. "Nobody could have predicted… even the rumours that
were going around last term, nobody thought…" She trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

Professor McGonagall nodded stiffly. She looked absolutely exhausted. Lily wondered how
many other students had said something similar upon emerging from the fireplace. "Thank
you, Miss Evans. If you wouldn't mind being off; the Patils are due to arrive from London at
any minute…"
Lily could take a hint. The door to Professor McGonagall's office swung gently shut behind
her, and she clattered down the stairs with her trunk.

At dinner that evening, she reunited with Marlene and a relieved-looking Mary, who gave
Lily an enormous squeeze as she sat down. "I'm so glad you made it back safely!" said Mary
into Lily's ear.

"Same to you," replied Lily, hugging Mary tightly.

"Did your mum take a look at those papers?" asked Mary. "The ones McGonagall gave us,
about the Muggle-born Protection Act?"

"Oh, yeah," said Lily. "She's doing the protective charms for now. Wasn't keen on moving to
America… I don't think she's ever travelled by plane before, honestly. And my sister would
never agree to move, either."

Mary scrunched up her nose. "My parents decided the same. I was hoping they'd choose one
of those Ministry-approved safe houses, but… They've got the shop to run and all, so…"

She gave Lily a small smile. Lily tried to smile back, hoping she didn't look as worried as she
felt.

"How'd you get back to Hogwarts?" Marlene asked Lily. "Side-Along Apparition?"

Lily shuddered. "Not on your life. Our fireplace was already connected to the Floo Network
for my apprenticeship, so I just Flooed to McGonagall's office."

"Side-Along's not that bad," chirped Mary as she helped herself to some roast duck. "An
Auror Apparated me to Hogwarts. It wasn't terrible."

Marlene lifted an eyebrow. "You were sick all over that poor man's robes."

"Oh, true," said Mary. "I didn't mind, though."

Lily laughed. "I've missed you two."

"I missed you," said Marlene. "The only young wizards in my part of Aberdeen are the
McLaggen brothers — no, thanks — and Peregrine Flint."

"I like Peregrine," said Mary. "His freckles are cute."

Marlene made a face. "I'll take your word for it. He wasn't exactly a joy to be around,
anyway."

"Why not?" asked Lily. She peered down the Gryffindor table, where Peregrine Flint was
sitting with the other members of the Quidditch team. He was pushing his carrots around on
his plate, looking glum.

"You didn't hear?" said Marlene. She lowered her voice and beckoned Lily closer. "His
sister's a Squib. Turns out his parents sent her to America before the Muggle-born Protection
Act had even passed — perk of having an uncle in the House of Lords. He only found out
over the hols. Didn't even get a chance to say good-bye."

"Oh, God," said Lily. "That's awful." Down the table, Peregrine was still scowling at his
vegetables. James Potter was sitting across from him; he glanced in Lily's direction and lifted
his chin at her in greeting.

Lily promptly began to choke. James didn't seem to notice; he had already turned back to the
other members of the Quidditch team.

"He's well fit, isn't he?" commented Mary, gazing dreamily at James. "I think we owe him a
life debt now, you know. According to my romance novels, he could legally ask for our hands
in marriage…"

"That's not how life debts work," said Marlene as she thumped Lily on the back. "They're
only magically binding in very specific circumstances. One person needs to spare the life of
another who deserves to die. It has something to do with unearned, freely-given mercy."

Lily spit a glob of half-chewed food into her napkin. Her face felt like it was on fire. "Mercy?
That sounds so… arbitrary. Who decides if someone deserves to die? Didn't the Death Eaters
think that about us?"

"It's not arbitrary at all!" said Marlene. "Mercy is one of the strongest forces of magic that
exists. It's like love, or hope. There are Unspeakables who dedicate their entire lives to its
study."

"I'll take your word for it," said Lily, rubbing her sore throat. "I'm just glad I'm not obligated
to marry Potter, on threat of losing my wand…"

Marlene smirked. "Oh, I'm sure you are."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," said Marlene in the least innocent voice Lily had ever heard. "Only that… "

She trailed off, looking towards the staff table. Professor Dumbledore had risen from his seat
and was tapping a spoon against his glass for silence. The chatter in the Great Hall died down
at once; it was as if they had all been waiting for the Headmaster to address what had
happened over the Christmas holidays.

Dumbledore's eyes swept across the Great Hall, his expression grave. "Students of
Hogwarts," he said. He touched his wand to the tip of his throat to amplify his voice, and Lily
was suddenly and startlingly reminded of the way Lord Voldemort's voice had once echoed in
her mind. Beside her, Mary grimaced.

"First and foremost," said Dumbledore, "I must humbly apologise. As Headmaster of
Hogwarts, I am tasked with ensuring the safety of all who shelter within these walls. Despite
my every effort to keep Hogwarts safe, we are fewer in number now than we were in August.
Three students have fallen, casualties of the war that draws ever nearer to our doorstep."
Lily frowned. Three students? There had only been two deaths on the Hogwarts Express.
Across the table, Marlene mouthed Dumbledore's words, looking similarly confused.

"For the past half-decade," continued Dumbledore, "the staff of Hogwarts has taken every
precaution to protect its pupils from the Dark wizard who deals in hatred and division.
Unfortunately, as we have seen, Lord Voldemort and his followers will not be deterred from
the slaughter of those they deem inferior. The efforts of our staff alone are no longer
sufficient to stem this threat. As such, the Ministry has seen fit to supply Hogwarts with
additional protection. Aurors will be posted at every entrance to Hogwarts, and members of
the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will patrol the castle at all times."

Across the table, Sirius Black let out a very loud groan.

"What's his problem?" muttered Marlene.

Lily smirked. "Probably not looking forward to having to sneak past prefects and Aurors just
to get a midnight snack in the kitchens."

Sirius shot her an incredulous look and gestured rudely at her with two fingers. She smiled
angelically at him in response.

"Hogsmeade weekends shall be cancelled until we can guarantee the safety of Hogwarts
students both on and off the grounds of Hogwarts," continued Dumbledore. A chorus of
complaints rose from all four tables, but Dumbledore's expression did not change.

Lily glanced at the Slytherin table, hoping to gauge their response to the Headmaster's
speech. Regulus was staring at Dumbledore in horror, looking utterly shocked. Beside him,
Severus' black eyes glittered with disdain as he glared at Dumbledore.

Lily was sorely tempted to hex the expression off Severus' pinched face; it was only with
great effort that she turned back towards the staff table. She couldn't believe Severus dared
look at Dumbledore — Dumbledore! — with such contempt. She really hadn't known him at
all.

"Although evil exists beyond these castle walls, we must not let ourselves become paralysed
by fear," said Dumbledore. "Let us stand firm for what is right — for inclusion, for justice,
for fair treatment for all. This is how we can honour the sacrifices of Amy Roberts, Richard
Jones, and Sally Dearborn."

He shook his wand back into the sweeping folds of his robes and sat down.

"Sally?" asked Mary as the Hall began to buzz with chatter. "Why — why did he make it
sound like she had died, too?"

Marlene ran both her hands through her short, spiky hair, looking rattled. "Dunno. I thought
— I'd assumed her family had pulled her out of school. But if Dumbledore's talking about
sacrifices, and casualties of war…"

"…Then he thinks she's dead, too," finished Lily softly.

"Impossible," said Marlene. "I don't believe it. There would've been a notice in the paper if
they'd figured out what had happened to her."

Mary's lip trembled. "But if that's Dumbledore's best guess…"

"There would have been a bloody obituary," said Marlene forcefully. "Right, Lily?"

Lily nodded, though she wasn't sure what to think. Across the room, Severus' eyes were still
on the staff table, but was no longer glaring at Dumbledore; instead, his heavy brow was
furrowed, as if he was confused. Mulciber, on the other hand, looked very pleased with
himself.

Dumbledore didn't know what had happened to Sally. But Lily might.

Sirius wished he could transform into Padfoot and barrel past the hordes of younger students
who were clogging up the staircase to the Gryffindor tower. That night was the full moon,
and Remus hadn't been at the feast. No doubt Madam Pomfrey had already taken him to the
Shrieking Shack.

Sirius flung open the door to the boys' dormitory, but James and Peter weren't there. Even
though he'd sat across from James at the feast, they'd hardly said a word to each other. It was
the first time they'd seen each other since he'd gone back to Grimmauld Place, and Sirius was
sure that James was waiting until they were alone in their dormitory to have a little chat about
why Sirius had run off.

James' trunk was lying at the foot of his immaculately-made bed, the corners of the crimson
sheets tucked tightly beneath the mattress. The house-elves needn't have bothered, Sirius
thought; James never made his bed.

While Sirius waited for the others, he set about trying to pick the magical lock on James'
trunk. He figured that if he could get to the map, he could fiddle with it until the others
arrived. He nearly had the lock figured out when the door to the dormitory opened and James
and Peter tramped in.

"Took you long enough," said Sirius. He screwed up his face in concentration as he twisted
his wand back and forth inside the lock. "I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

There was a thump above Sirius as James dropped his school bag onto his bed. "Padfoot.
What're you doing?"

Sirius grunted. "Thought I could work on the map while I waited. Aha!" A clang like a bell
reverberated around the room, and the lock popped off James' trunk. Sirius let out a whoop of
triumph, trailing off awkwardly when he caught sight of the look on James' face. "Yeah?"

The bed sagged a little as James sat on it. "Sirius, mate."

"What?"

"What? You —" James made a gesture like he wanted to shake Sirius. "Are you alright? What
— what happened? You vanished, we hadn't heard from you — I tried to use the mirror…
Did you go back to Grimmauld Place?"

"Oh. That." Here was the chat that Sirius had known was coming. Across the room, Peter was
very obviously trying to unpack and pay them no mind.

"Yeah," said James firmly. "That."

Sirius fidgeted with his wand. "Are you upset with me?"

"Do I look upset?"

He didn't. Sirius had no idea how James did it sometimes, pulling maturity out of his arse,
like he was the leader of the group and Sirius merely a follower. Like James was the master,
and Sirius the dog.

"I've been worried about you," said James. "We all have."

"Your mum and dad —"

"Our mum and dad are fine. Got out of St Mungo's on Sunday." James' chest swelled a bit
with pride. "Takes more than dragon pox to get the better of them." There was a crash from
Peter's side of the room at the mention of dragon pox, but neither James nor Sirius paid him
any mind.

"Good," said Sirius. He cast about for something further to say but came up empty-handed.
"That's good."

James' smile was thin. "What about you, then? Are you good?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. To buy some time, he took his wand out of his pocket and stuck it behind
his ear. That felt uncomfortable, so he put it across his lap. When he looked up, James was
still eyeing him like he expected more of a response. "I'm good," repeated Sirius, as if that
made it true. "Decent, at least. Went back to Grimmauld Place, like you guessed, but it
honestly wasn't that bad. Told them I wanted to try my hand at all the firstborn baloney
they've wanted me to do for ages."

"Shit," said James. "And?"

Sirius shrugged. "And they said alright. Mum cried her crocodile tears, and they let me back
in. Wanted to give me another chance, I guess. It was boring, honestly. Lots to do with
money. Floo-calls to Gringotts, learning about investments, how to evaluate property. That
sort of thing."

"Right," said James. "Well. That's good, I guess."

"It's just for the time being. Just for the inheritance."
One of James' eyebrows quirked up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sirius grimaced. "I realised that I'm actually not alright with centuries of gold and
valuables going directly into the hands of Death Eaters. I can't do much to stop the war — I'm
not an Auror, or anything — but I can do this, at least."

Sirius did his best to sound casually unconcerned, but James was still watching him steadily.
"That's a heavy burden for one person."

"It's really not."

"I wish you'd have Floo-called us to say you were alright. Or used the mirror."

"I know," said Sirius. "It's just — it's easier if I don't. When I'm there, I have to focus on just
— being there. When I get distracted by — by things outside Grimmauld Place, that's when
it's harder to deal with. It makes me a bit crazy."

James nodded. "Well. If it ever does become too much, you've always got a bedroom at my
place. Just so you know."

"Thanks, mate. And when my parents pop their clogs, I'm using that gold to buy you three
Cleansweep Sixes and a spot on the Wimbledon Wasps."

Peter coughed loudly, drawing their attention towards him.

"Yeah, Pete?" asked James. "Something you wanted to add?"

"Oh no, nothing at all," said Peter from behind a magazine entitled Dazzle. The cover of the
magazine was adorned with photographs of witches in various states of undress. "I was just
perusing some literature, didn't catch a word of whatever it was you lot were talking about.
Just wondering — you do know it's nearly nine o'clock, and Moony's —"

James swore and jumped to his feet. "He's bound to be wondering where we are. Sirius,
brilliant job on my trunk, d'you mind grabbing the Cloak…?"

After the feast ended, Regulus and Avery excused themselves from the Slytherin table to
attend their prefect meeting. Severus was frankly surprised that Avery hadn't had his prefect
badge revoked after nearly failing every core subject the previous term; he'd only passed their
last Potions exam because Severus had spent the entire time hissing instructions in his ear.

Severus joined the rest of the Followers in returning to the common room, where all of
Slytherin seemed to be comparing notes on what the Dark Lord's appearance meant for the
war. Wilkes and Rosier chatted loudly about how impressive the attack on Platform Nine and
Three-Quarters had been, causing a few of the younger students to eye them warily. Among
the upper years, the general consensus was that it was a shame the Dark Lord hadn't had the
time to take care of more blood traitors.

Privately, Severus had found the whole attack to be somewhat disappointing. It lacked any
sense of finesse, and that speech the Dark Lord had given was melodramatic and superfluous.
It was a waste of time for a Dark Lord to pontificate about how evil he was — he ought to let
his actions speak for themselves.

None of the Followers asked Severus for his opinion, though, so he remained silent. He cared
more about what Dumbledore had let slip during his speech, the sentimental old sop.
Something about Sally Dearborn being a casualty.

Sally must be dead, then. That was interesting. Severus was certain Mulciber hadn't been the
one to kill her — after all, he'd tried to claim credit for it, and Bella had seen right through
him. But if not Mulciber — who?

A few seventh years arranged the tables around the common room into a sort of stage and
began to reenact the attack on the Hogwarts Express to general applause. Severus excused
himself, muttering something about needing the toilet. Once he had ducked out of eyesight,
he promptly Disillusioned himself and slunk out of the dungeons. Regulus and Avery were
still in their prefect meeting, but they'd be out soon, and when they did, Severus had
questions for them. Both were too neurotic — and, in Avery's case, too dull — to have killed
Sally Dearborn, but all the same, they'd gone looking for her the night of the Halloween feast.
Perhaps they had seen something they didn't realise was significant.

On the ground floor, Severus crouched beside a suit of armour until the door to the staffroom
opened and the prefects began to file out. Lily was one of the first ones out, chatting with a
couple of girls from Ravenclaw. One of them made some sort of wry comment, and Lily
laughed loudly and unselfconsciously.

Severus grimaced. How could she be so happy, after the attack on the Hogwarts Express?
Didn't she realise she could be next? She should never have returned to Hogwarts. Not that it
was any of his concern.

Regulus and Avery were the last to leave the staffroom. As they passed the alcove where
Severus was standing, he aimed a Trip Jinx at Avery's feet.

Avery stumbled forward, and Regulus steadied him. "Alright, Edmund?"

Severus let out a low whistle. Both of them looked towards the suit of armour. "It's me," he
muttered when they made no move to approach him. "We need to talk."

"Severus?" asked Regulus, approaching the alcove. He squinted and put out a hand towards
Severus' near-invisible form. "What's this about, then?"

The door to the staffroom opened, and Severus hushed him. Chester Fernsby, the Head Boy,
stepped into the Entrance Hall and began to climb the steps of the marble staircase. Only
once he had reached the first floor landing did Severus dare talk. "Did you hear what
Dumbledore said during the feast?"
"Of course," said Regulus, raising his chin a little. Severus supposed he was trying to seem
uncaring, but he was failing miserably at it. The crease between his eyebrows gave him away;
he looked he couldn't wait for Severus to stop talking so that he could flee to his dormitory
and scribble down all his worries in that journal of his.

"You realise that Dearborn must be dead," said Severus as he lifted the Disillusionment
Charm he had placed on himself.

Avery's mouth fell open. "You really — you think she's… ?"

"He lumped her in with Roberts and Jones," snapped Severus. "He called her a casualty of
war. Obviously she's dead."

The crease between Regulus' eyebrows grew deeper. "And why did you want to speak with
us? We didn't kill her."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Severus. "I wanted to know if you saw anything the night she went
missing. You went after Mulciber during the Halloween Feast — did you see her? Or
anything unusual?"

Avery shook his head. "Nothing. We didn't see Sally at all. We found Mulciber on the —
where were we, on the —"

"The seventh floor," supplied Regulus, with a glance at Avery. "He was lurking outside
Gryffindor tower. Hoping to ambush her, I think."

Severus narrowed his eyes. He wished there was a way to ensure their honesty, but Regulus
wouldn't take kindly to Severus using Legilimency on him again. He might be able to try it
on Avery, though, if he got the chance. "If I find out you are withholding valuable
information —"

"We're not," said Avery. "Why do you care what happened to Sally?"

"I don't," said Severus. "I'm glad she's dead. I just think it's suspicious."

"Brilliant deduction," said Regulus. "Hogwarts student goes missing, presumed dead.
Severus' conclusion: suspicious. Indeed."

"Mulciber probably did it," said Avery. "I mean, if anyone…"

"It wasn't Mulciber," snarled Severus. "I'm certain of that much."

Regulus' mouth twisted into an ironic smile. He could have been Sirius' twin. "That's what
this is about, then."

"I don't know what you're implying," said Severus stiffly.

"You hate Mulciber," said Regulus. "You're just trying to get back at him. You want to prove
he's incompetent, is that it? Prove he couldn't complete his first assignment as our mentor?"
Severus wished he could curse that smug look off of Regulus' aristocratic face. "Perhaps."

"He's not a great mentor, I'll give you that much," said Regulus. "But he's not the main cause
of your problems, Severus. You are."

"That — that is utter nonsense. You —"

"Spare me," said Regulus. "You're exactly like my brother, you know that? You piss people
off, then play the victim. It's not Mulciber's fault that you're so unhappy with yourself."

Severus was nearly shaking with fury. "That — that is completely —"

"At least Sirius has learned to fall in line," said Regulus. "You still can't accept that you're not
the most valuable recruit Bella has got. Or even the second most valuable."

"You dare —"

"It's the truth," said Regulus. "You're playing detective because it makes you feel useful. But
Bella doesn't care what happened to Sally, as long as she's out of the picture, so you're
wasting your time. But that's your choice, I suppose." He strode off before Severus could stop
him.

Avery made to follow suit, but Severus grabbed him by the arm, squeezing tightly. "I'm not
done with you," he hissed.

Avery tried to shrug him off, but Severus tightened his grip. Avery's mouth twisted a bit in
pain, and he looked at Severus in confusion. "Sev, I already told you —"

"I need to make sure," said Severus. He leaned forward and stared into Avery's eyes as if he
was trying to bore a hole through his skull. "Tell me what happened to Sally Dearborn."

"I don't know," said Avery, who looked positively alarmed at Severus' intensity. As he spoke,
Severus took advantage of the moment to quietly cast Legilimency, without words or a wand.
He would only be privy to the very shallowest of Avery's thoughts, but that would be enough.
It had to be.

"I don't know," said Avery again. "I've no idea what happened to her." Confusion and genuine
frustration rose to the forefront of Avery's mind. There were no signs of deception.

Severus took a deep breath, grounding himself in his own mind. "Fine. Tell me about what
happened the night she went missing."

"Nothing happened," said Avery. His frustration was mounting; Severus could feel it seeping
across their mental connection like sewage.

"There has to be more to it," said Severus. "It doesn't make sense. People don't just vanish
into thin air. What else did you see? Retrace your steps, every detail matters —"

A wave of anger slammed into Severus's mind, so intense that it felt as if he'd been slapped.
He gasped, and his head jerked to the side involuntarily, breaking their connection.
"I'm not telling you again," said Avery, slipping into that smarmy tone he used when
disciplining first years. "We didn't find her. There's no need to retrace my steps."

Severus gritted his teeth. "If you would just humour me —"

"I won't," said Avery. "You're being ridiculous. You're obsessed. Now get your greasy hands
off of me, before I take points."

Severus glared, but he relinquished his grasp, balling his hands into fists at his side.

"Much appreciated," said Avery. He straightened a little and adjusted his robes, clearly more
comfortable now that he was back in his role of insufferable prefect. "If I may, Sev —
spending too much time alone can do funny things to one's head. Sluggy offers counselling
on Tuesdays — part of his job as Head of House, you know…"

Severus gnashed his teeth together to keep himself from screaming. "Get. Out."

Once Severus had calmed down enough to be sure he wouldn't do something he'd regret, he
made a beeline for the library, to his secret room. He spent the rest of the afternoon venting
his frustrations to the mirror, foregoing Occlumency completely in favour of allowing it to
play out his wildest, most violent fantasies. He was no first year, needing to be lectured by
the likes of Regulus and Avery. And, no matter what Regulus said, Severus was nothing —
nothing — like Sirius Black, who'd been handed everything on a silver platter and thrown it
all away out of spite. No, he, Severus, was the opposite — he'd had to struggle just to
survive, and still nobody recognised his talent, nobody accepted him, nobody cared for him,
it wasn't fair —

He froze in front of the mirror, breathing hard. Reflected back at him was a girl with dark red
hair. Her hands were outstretched as if trying to grasp his, and her emerald green eyes were
full of compassion. Upon meeting his eyes, she smiled sweetly.

"Stop that," Severus ordered the mirror. "Change it back. Go back to the one with Regulus,
that's what I came here to see, I don't want this —"

The image of Lily merely nodded, infinitely understanding as she acknowledged his pain.
She gestured for him to come closer.

"I know you deal in the impossible," Severus spat at the mirror, "but this time you stretch the
limits of credibility. Put it back."

He grumbled at the mirror for several more minutes, but it was futile. Lily watched him rant
without flinching; her expression was deeply sympathetic. It was the most kindness he'd been
shown in months.

He knew he had to get rid of her. Her presence was too gentle, too good, and he could feel his
resolve slipping every time he looked in the mirror. He would curl up and die here, staring
into it, if he couldn't figure out how to make her go away, but he didn't want to close his mind
to her.
Hours passed, and Severus' ranting turned to begging. He pleaded with the image of Lily to
leave, to turn into Mulciber instead. He told her that he didn't want to get rid of her, that he
couldn't. She was deaf to his words; her palms pressed against the mirror as if it were the
only barrier separating them, and her gaze was full of longing. She wanted to be reunited just
as badly as he did.

"You're going to drive me insane," he said. "Please. You have to leave."

She shook her head, her emerald eyes imploring.

"You have to go," he said. "I can't be the one to do it. Not again."

She reached out as if to touch his cheek. It was torture, being able to see her and speak to her,
even though he knew it wasn't real. A fitting punishment for not using Occlumency, he
supposed. He'd never make that mistake again.

At last, Severus closed his eyes and focused on clearing his mind. He pushed aside the
deeply-buried part of him that longed to speak to Lily again, to tell her everything that had
happened since they'd stopped being mates. To tell her that he was certainly a worse person
without her. To tell her he was sorry. He hid everything away so well that not even he could
find it.

When his mind was empty, he dared to glance at the mirror. To his relief, it showed only his
reflection, and nothing more.
 Destination, Determination, and Deliberation

Lessons resumed the next morning, though Lily had to admit that it felt strange to have
officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement standing at the back of every
classroom, surveying the students as if at any moment one of them would turn into Lord
Voldemort himself. They were like extra prefects — she couldn't even make her rounds
without running into an Auror who was also doing a slow patrol of the corridors.

There was one unexpected benefit to having Aurors and DMLE officers posted about the
castle: Mulciber's gang didn't dare step a toe out of line with them around. She'd expected the
Slytherins to be emboldened, even dangerous, after Lord Voldemort's attack on the Hogwarts
Express, but even Mulciber seemed to realise that cursing first years was not a good idea with
Aurors around.

Severus kept staring at her during Potions lessons. Probably seeking confirmation that she'd
been traumatised by what had happened on the Hogwarts Express, if she had to guess. She
ignored him, except to laugh more loudly than usual whenever he was within earshot. She
refused to give him the satisfaction of thinking she was afraid.

During their second lesson of the new term, he stared at her so pointedly that he failed to
notice Edmund Avery put Gurdeyroot instead of ginger in the Hiccoughing Solution they
were brewing. The potion began to emit a cloud of smoke so foul that the entire class had to
evacuate the dungeon and wait in the corridor while Slughorn fumigated the room.

Lily made sure to laugh at Severus' mistake, and rather nastily, too. That seemed to teach him
a lesson; he kept his eyes on his cauldron after that.

The last week of January, signups for Apparition lessons appeared on the noticeboard in the
Gryffindor common room. Lily reluctantly added her name to the list. She hated travelling by
Floo Powder, Portkey, and broomstick, so she was certain that Apparition would be similarly
unpleasant.

"It's really not so bad," said Mary, trying to reassure her. "When I was Side-Alonged, it was
exactly like travelling by Floo, except it was also horribly painful and I felt like I was dying
because I couldn't breathe."

"Oh, well if that's all," said Lily sarcastically. "Now I'm really looking forward to
Apparating."

Their first lesson was held in the Great Hall, which had been cleared of its tables to make
room for the forty-odd students who would be learning to Apparate. An instructor from the
Ministry gave a short lecture on the basics of Apparition, but his instructions were so vague
that Lily doubted she'd be able to grasp the trick of it quickly.

After the lecture, the students were to practise turning on their heels. Aurors sat quietly at the
staff table, watching their efforts like a panel of judges.
"I wish they wouldn't watch us," moaned Mary with a glance at the staff table. "I don't do
well under pressure, look…" She turned halfheartedly on her heel, then wobbled and fell to
the ground.

Marlene snorted. She extended a hand to help her up. "Yeah, you really made a good effort
there, shame…"

A loud crack sounded from the other side of the Great Hall, catching Lily's attention. Sirius
Black had successfully Apparated into one of the wooden hoops strewn about the Hall. He
bowed theatrically as Peter Pettigrew applauded, then spun again and vanished with another
resounding crack. He appeared in another hoop twenty feet to the left, looking very smug.

He certainly seemed happier than he had last term, when he'd asked her what it was like to
feel guilty. But — hadn't he gone home for the holidays? He'd never returned to St Mungo's
after his first visit to Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. They'd speculated that he'd gone back to
living with his parents. She only knew a little about the situation, but the Blacks didn't sound
very nice.

Well. Regulus was alright.

I need to find out what Regulus knows, she thought. She was certain he knew something. He'd
been cursed by Sally Dearborn at the start of last term, and he went round with the only
people in the castle who would dare lay a finger on Sally.

He'd never to talk to Lily about it, of course, but maybe he'd let something slip to Sirius over
the holidays.

"Impressive," said Lily. She sidled up to Sirius, who had just successfully Apparated for the
third time. "Mind giving me some pointers? I'm having a bit of trouble…"

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "Wondergirl, having trouble? Colour me surprised."

Lily made a face. "I hate magical travel."

"Ah," said Sirius. "You're not the first Muggle-born I've heard that from, actually."

"Really? I didn't know you made a habit of chatting with Muggle-borns."

"Technically, she was pure Muggle," said Sirius. "But I suppose you could still call her
Muggle-born, since her parents are Muggles, as well. What say you?"

"Erm, I say, 'how did you meet a Muggle who travels by magic?' "

"Long story," said Sirius airily. "Really boring." He stuck out an arm for her to hold and lead
her to an unoccupied spot in the room. "At your service, then. What part's giving you
trouble?"

"Well — all of it, really, but that's not why I wanted to talk to you," said Lily. She hesitated,
but nobody was paying them any mind. Across the room, James Potter was leaping from
hoop to hoop like a ballerina, leaving Parvana Patil nearly in tears with laughter.
Sirius followed her gaze. "Is this about James? I'm not sure what to tell you — you had your
chance, nearly six years of it, so if it's only now that you're realising —"

"What?" said Lily. "No, I — why do people keep saying that?"

"I mean, when you go around telling everyone he saved your life…"

"Oh, my God," said Lily. "If telling the truth means I'm secretly in love with him —"

"Your words, not mine —"

"Har, har. Very funny."

Sirius lifted a shoulder, then spun gracefully on his heel. There was a thunderous crack, and
he appeared five feet behind her.

"Would you stop that?" asked Lily, covering her ears. "I swear, you're trying to make me deaf
on purpose —"

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically. "Wondergirl. I would never." He spun again but didn't
disappear. At first, Lily thought he'd failed to Apparate, but then she realised he had silently
and instantly moved several inches closer to her.

"How did you —"

He grinned. "I thought you didn't need my help to Apparate."

"I don't!"

He folded his arms behind his head. "So what's the deal, then?"

Lily took a breath. "Your brother."

Sirius' casual expression vanished. He twitched and then disappeared with a crack,
reappearing at the other end of the Great Hall. Lily groaned and began to jog towards him.

"I'm not talking about Regulus with you," said Sirius when she had caught up to him.

"Why not?" panted Lily.

Sirius pointed a finger at her. "You are nothing but trouble for him." He turned on his heel
and disappeared again. She didn't notice him reappear, so she stood on her tiptoes, scanning
the Great Hall. Finally, a flash of movement near the staff table caught her eye.

Lily clenched her fists in determination, shut her eyes, and spun.

She heard a crack, and a strange pressure compressed her body from all sides, as if something
were trying to squeeze her through a tube of toothpaste. She tried to draw a breath, but
couldn't, and her heart began to pound in panic. The pressure increased until it was nearly
unbearable; she couldn't see a thing, she couldn't breathe, surely her bones would be crushed
—

Then the feeling stopped, and she stumbled into Sirius.

"Nice job," said Sirius as he steadied her. "Think you left a bit of fringe over by the
Ravenclaws, though, look…"

Lily patted her hair, making a face. "That was awful."

"I like it," said Sirius stubbornly. "You'll get used to it; you just need to practise."

The thought of voluntarily subjecting herself to Apparition again made her shudder, and she
changed the subject. "About Regulus — I just want to know… He didn't say anything to you,
did he, over the holidays? About Sally Dearborn?"

Sirius blinked. "About Sally? No. Why?" An incredulous grin spread across his handsome
face. "You don't think Regulus had something to do with what happened to her, do you?"

"Not — not him, necessarily, but that gang he goes round with, they might've —"

"Probably," said Sirius carelessly. "But there's no way Reg knows anything about it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Trust me," said Sirius. "He can't even bump into a suit of armour without apologising. If he
knew that his pals Mulciber, or Avery, or whoever, had offed Sally Dearborn? He'd be having
nervous breakdowns in the corridors. He can't handle that kind of stress."

"I mean, I don't know if you've seen him around lately," said Lily, "but he's twitchier than
Peter during a Defence exam."

"Nah, that's just Reg's baseline." Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "Honestly, Lily. He had
nothing to do with it. Don't bother him about this."

"Don't bother him because he doesn't know anything? Or because you think I'm trouble?"

"Do you want an honest answer to that?"

"Always."

Sirius tilted his head, considering her. "Both, then. You've got a bit of a complex about saving
people — especially poor, misguided Slytherins. Reg has got enough on his plate without you
muddling him up further."

Lily was nearly speechless. "That's — that's just unbelievable. I do not have a complex —"

Sirius ticked examples off on his fingers. "You sided with Snivellus over James last spring,
even though Snivellus spent the entire year showing you the type of person he was. When
Regulus crashed my birthday party, you thought he was the one who needed protecting."
"Those two things are not related —"

"Sure they're not." He sounded bored. "Look, I'm not judging you. I appreciate your efforts,
actually — don't think Reg has ever had a conversation with someone who wasn't a pure-
blood before you. But you need to leave him alone."

She hated when people told her what to do. "And why should I?"

"Because if you don't, it's not going to end prettily." He spoke with certainty, as if he'd seen
the future in his tea leaves. "Reg's got a weakness for you, and that's an enormous problem,
because he is just like Severus."

He's got a weakness for you. Lily didn't like the way those words made her stomach flutter.
"He's not like Severus. He doesn't — he doesn't believe…"

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Sirius darkly. "In any case, his beliefs are irrelevant."

"Then how can you say he's just like Sev?"

"Because they're both cowards," said Sirius bitterly. "Regulus might not be as gung-ho as
Snape, but my parents have made him take sides, and he doesn't have the guts to change.
Sorry."

He sounded so dismissive of his own brother. The scorn in his voice reminded her of Petunia;
she'd probably said similar things about Lily.

"That isn't true." She felt like she needed to defend Regulus. "He's just confused."

"I know him better than you. Trust me — you're not going to change his mind. Not even if
you become his little Muggle-born girlfriend."

Lily rankled at Sirius' condescending tone. He had some nerve. "If you're saying I shouldn't
even try —"

"Exactly. It's not your job to save him."

"I'd think it'd be yours," snapped Lily, "seeing as he's your brother. But you seem to be
running from that responsibility, too, aren't you?"

Sirius' haughty, bored expression vanished. Something dark twisted in his face, and he
reached for his wand, looking murderous.

Lily took an involuntary step back. "Sorry. That was — I was out of line."

"Right," said Sirius, glaring at her. With what seemed like a great effort, he wrenched his
hand away from his wand. "Right. Well. It just so happens that I've begun to take more
responsibility for the sorry state of the Noble House of Black. Not that it's any of your
business."

"It's really not," said Lily. "I'm sorry, Sirius."

Sirius' voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Apology accepted, Wondergirl."

Lily opened her mouth to respond, but he Apparated away before she could say anything
else.

"Where's the map?" asked Sirius. He was sprawled in the lap of one of the mermaid statues in
the prefects' bathroom. There was a warm towel on his forehead and another only loosely
wrapped around his waist.

James and Peter were splashing about in the Olympic-sized bath, trying to dunk each other
underwater. Remus lounged, fully-clothed, in a beach chair nearby, wearing sunglasses and
reading a book.

James stopped wrestling with Peter just long enough to respond. "Come off it. I'm not taking
out the map in here."

"Why not? It's Impermeable, isn't it?"

James, who wasn't wearing his glasses, shot a slightly cross-eyed look in Sirius' general
direction. "Nothing's Impermeable when it comes to you."

"Too right," said Sirius proudly. The statue of the mermaid stroked his wet hair affectionately,
and he beamed at her. "You can trust me, though. I just wanna work on it. Promise."

Peter spat out a mouthful of water and pushed James away from him. "Why can't you just
relax for once? This is the last spa day we'll have until March, the bathroom's booked solid
for the next month and a half…"

"Moony, back me up," commanded Sirius. "Tell them I've got good intentions."

Remus peered at him over his sunglasses. "I don't believe that for an instant."

"Traitors, the lot of you," said Sirius, though he was finding it hard to be cross, since the
mermaid was now massaging his scalp. "What if I said it was for a noble cause?"

"You wanna start hexing the Slytherins again?" asked Peter hopefully. James sent a wave of
water towards the back of his head and he spluttered indignantly. "What? Don't tell me you're
not bored, we never do anything fun anymore —"

"It's nothing to do with Slytherin," said Sirius. "That's the whole point, actually."

Remus' thick eyebrows arched over the top of his sunglasses. "Do tell."

"Knew you'd be on my side, Moony," said Sirius. He blew a kiss towards Remus, who
responded with a very rude hand gesture. "Oh, stop, you're offending the mermaid —
anyway. You know Lily Evans, yeah?"

"Nope," said James.

"Never heard of her," said Peter.

"Who?" asked Remus.

Sirius exchanged an exasperated glance with the mermaid. "You lot think you're so funny."

Remus' lip twitched. "Something like that."

"Anyway," said Sirius impatiently. "Evans said something completely mental during our
Apparition lesson the other day. She was going on about Regulus knowing something about
whatever happened to Sally Dearborn, which is obviously untrue —"

"D'you reckon?" asked James, who was starting to look genuinely interested.

"Of course it's not true! Regulus is like — he's like one of those yappy dogs my Aunt Druella
loves."

"He pees on furniture?" asked Peter.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I mean that he's harmless."

"All bark and no bite?" asked Remus.

"Exactly," said Sirius. "I was thinking, though... Evans' way off the mark, but I can see how
one might think Reg's stupid Slytherin gang had something to do with whatever happened to
Sally."

"They wouldn't dare," said Peter. "If Regulus is a Pomeranian, Mulciber's a — a… "

"Bulldog?" asked James.

"Yeah, that works," said Peter. "He's something fat and stupid, at least."

"You know," said Remus, turning a page in his book, "despite their fierce appearance and
violent history, bulldogs are actually one of the gentlest breeds. They're much less vicious
than Pomeranians, for instance."

Sirius groaned. "You are ruining my metaphor, Moony. Ruining it."

Remus blew him a kiss. The mermaid statue stopped stroking Sirius' hair; she crossed her
arms and glared jealously at Remus.

"My point," said Sirius, trying not to laugh at the pouting statue, "is that Evans got me
thinking about the power of the map."

"How d'you mean?" James' brow furrowed, making him look even more cross-eyed.
"Think about it," said Sirius. "If we can figure out how to track more than just my wet rag of
a brother… If we could somehow get the map to show everyone at Hogwarts, all the time —"

Remus removed his sunglasses. "Merlin's wilted wand. That's —"

"Brilliant?" said Sirius. "I know."

"Er, sorry," said Peter, his head swivelling back and forth between them, "but could you
explain in English, for those of us who don't happen to share your telepathic bond?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked James. "If Sally's still in the castle, and we get the map working —"

"— We could find her," said Peter, his eyes widening.

Sirius nodded. "Reg's mates might not be complete saints, but they had nothing to do with
whatever happened. We'll find Sally, win some points for the House Cup, maybe a medal or
two from Dumbledore..."

"Unless," said Remus.

Sirius' towel nearly slipped off his waist as he got up from the mermaid's lap. "Unless what?"

"Well," said Remus slowly, "if we go poking our nose where it doesn't belong, we might not
like what we find. Suppose it's not the heroic rescue you're imagining. That is — suppose we
find what's left of her."

Sirius paused. He hadn't considered that.

James spoke first, his voice firm with conviction. "All the more reason to finish the map,
then. What if we're the only ones who can bring her father closure?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, giving himself a little shake to recover his composure. "That's the spirit.
You're in, then, Prongs?"

"'Course I am," said James. Wet curls flopped across his face as he jerked his head his bag,
which lay at the edge of the bath. "Get out the map."

"I'm blushing," said Sirius. "You trust me to take it out in here, after all?"

"It's Impermeable, isn't it?"

"We'll find out," said Sirius. He grinned wickedly, clutching James' bag to his chest, and
cannonballed into the bath.
Between schoolwork, Apparition lessons, and practising for the upcoming match against
Hufflepuff, James was so busy that he hardly had time to spend with his mates, much less
with Parvana. ("Nobody's making you train four hours a day," commented Sirius when James
complained about this. James responded by Transfiguring the quill Sirius was holding into a
giant centipede.)

Luckily for James, Parvana seemed to understand completely — in fact, a few weeks into the
new term, she began to join him on the Quidditch pitch at six in the morning. While training,
they barely spoke; their frosted breath to fill the space between them as they jogged, side-by-
side, around the pitch.

James was pretty sure the comfort he felt with her was proof of their compatibility. After all,
his father had always said Euphemia was his best friend, someone he could be completely
himself around. Parvana was more or less James' best friend, too. After Sirius, Remus, Peter,
and his parents, of course.

In some ways, his relationship with Parvana was even more platonic than his relationship
with Sirius; after all, he'd seen Sirius naked on many occasions, but he still had no idea what
Parvana looked like without her Quidditch leathers on.

"Do you think we talk about Quidditch too much?" James panted one morning as they jogged
around the pitch.

Parvana let out a small huff of surprise. Her breath crystallised in the air. "Of course not.
Why?"

"Just something Sirius said over the holidays." James tried to sound casual, which was
difficult to do at the speed they were running.

"Well, what else would we talk about?"

"Exactly!" James clapped her on the shoulder, glad she saw things his way. Sirius was full of
shite.

Parvana didn't seem quite as reassured as he was, however. Her thin brows furrowed, and as
they finished their lap around the pitch, she sprinted ahead of him to run the next one by
herself.

This didn't concern James in the least; they often trained separately. She respected his space,
and he respected hers. It was just one of the reasons why they made a fantastic couple.

"I might marry her, you know," he told Peter and Remus during Care of Magical Creatures
one afternoon. They were working with Diricawls: large, plump birds which couldn't fly, but
were able to vanish and reappear at will.

Remus frowned at the Diricawl James was stroking. "I hate to disappoint you, but I think that
one's a male."
"That's what you're concerned about?" said Peter. "Not the fact that interspecies marriage is
illegal in twenty-seven countries?"

Remus hummed thoughtfully. "Times change, Wormtail. It wasn't so long ago that troll-
human hybrids were considered brainless abominations. But you need only look at Mulciber
to know that's all wrong, don't you?"

A bark of laughter sounded from the other side of the pen. Sirius, who was trimming the
talons of an impressively large Diricawl under Professor Kettleburn's supervision, wagged a
finger at Remus.

"Bad Moony," said James, ruffling Remus' hair. "Don't distract Sirius, he'll end up agitating
the Diricawl and it'll take off Kettleburn's last remaining limb…"

Peter still looked worried. "You weren't really talking about an interspecies relationship.
Were you, Prongs?"

"Wormy. What d'you think?"

"Okay, good," said Peter. "Because my great-uncle got involved with a garden gnome, and let
me tell you, that was a messy divorce…" He smiled a small, proud grin when James and
Remus laughed.

"I'll have to write myself a reminder about that," said Remus. "No dating a garden gnome.
Diricawls, though…"

"Can't help who you love, Moony," said James.

"I'm well aware," said Remus. "Keep up that open-minded attitude and you might even be
best man at the wedding."

"You lot are so weird," said Peter. "Remind me again why I associate with you?"

James hooked an arm around Peter's shoulder and whispered conspiratorially into his ear.
"You tolerate our presence because otherwise we will go squealing to McGonagall about the
unregistered Animagus we've spotted scurrying around the corridors at night —"

"You wouldn't!" Peter pushed James away.

Remus nodded gravely, holding a handful of grain out to the Diricawl. "Looks like you're
stuck with us."

"It's not all bad," added James. "You can be the flower girl at Remus' wedding."

Peter made a face. "Tell me you two aren't really going to marry a Diricawl."

"Absolutely," said Remus, but James said, "No, are you kidding? I'm going to marry
Parvana!"
That earned him a more confused look from Peter than even the talks of interspecies marriage
had. Across the pen, Sirius stopped trimming the talons of his Diricawl and stared at James as
if he had just said something foul.

Remus recovered first. "That is certainly one option of many available to you —"

Peter put it more bluntly. "You're joking."

"'Course I'm not," said James breezily. "We're a perfect match. Completely compatible in
every way."

"Look," said Peter. "No judgement, alright? But you're bonkers if you think you two make a
good couple." He put an absentminded hand the Diricawl, which gave an irritated shriek and
vanished into thin air.

"Sorry," said James, "but I think calling someone 'bonkers' is the definition of judgement —"

"Have you got your leg over her yet?" said Remus with the same tone one would use to ask if
he had picked up milk from the shop.

"Moony," said James reproachfully. "That is private information. Five points from Gryffindor
—"

"— You are not a prefect —"

"— And for your information, yes, I have. One hundred per cent. And it was excellent."

Remus merely looked at James. James met his eyes and gave a determined little nod, trying
desperately not to smile. Remus said nothing, continuing to hold James' gaze. The Diricawl
reappeared at Remus' side and nuzzled against him, chirping sleepily. Remus gave its head a
scratch, maintaining eye contact with James all the while.

Finally, James couldn't contain himself any longer, and he broke into a laugh. "Alright,
alright — look, Parv and I haven't gotten that far yet. Satisfied?"

Remus looked pleased with himself. "You're a terrible liar."

"Shut up."

"You two have at least snogged, though, right?" asked Peter.

"Erm," said James, "why does it matter?"

"You've been dating since November," said Peter slowly. "We're in the middle of February
now, and you haven't even snogged?"

James couldn't believe his so-called mates were being so thick about this. At the other end of
the pen, Sirius was so intent on hearing James' answer that he clipped his Diricawl's talon too
close to the quick. The large bird shrieked and launched itself onto Professor Kettleburn's
chest.
James made a rude hand gesture at Sirius, who was now frantically trying to pry the Diricawl
off of Professor Kettleburn. "Serves you right, you git. And yes, Wormy, we've snogged."

The slight raise of Remus' eyebrows contained a thousand unsaid words. "And?"

"And it was — it was fine. I mean, it wasn't, you know…"

"World-changing?" asked Remus.

"Are you gay?" asked Peter.

"Only for Sirius," said James. Sirius stopped tugging at the Diricawl long enough to give
James a wink.

"So you snogged Parvana, and it was okay," said Peter. "That's something. I guess."

"Look, our connection goes deeper than snogging, alright? It's a spiritual connection we've
got, not a physical one. Which is how I know she's my soulmate."

"I'm not surprised you don't have a physical connection," said Peter. "She's awful at
snogging."

James bumped Peter's shoulder so hard that he stumbled into their Diricawl, which promptly
disappeared again. "How would you know?"

"Third year," replied Peter at once, his expression wistful. "I dated her for a week in between
Marlene and Lily."

Remus' eyes widened. "That's right. I'd forgotten Marlene still thought she liked blokes in our
third year."

"Not after dating Wormtail, though," James sniggered, and it was Peter's turn to protest.

"That is so unfair, the two things weren't correlated at all, she told me so herself —"

"Funny," said a voice. Lily was passing them on her way to fill her bucket with more grain.
"That's not what Marlene told me."

Peter gawped at her as she floated off. "That's not — there's no way — she promised she'd
been thinking about it for ages…"

Lily gave an innocent little shrug, and James laughed. "It's time to face the facts, Pete," he
said. "You helped Marlene come to terms with her sexuality, and I'm going to marry Parvana
Patil. That's just the way things are."
Gryffindor's match against Hufflepuff took place on the last Friday in February. The morning
air was bitingly cold, but the first rays of the sun seemed brighter than usual, as though
promising that warmer weather was on its way. There were even a few clusters of white
snowdrop flowers along the path to the Quidditch pitch.

Unfortunately, James found it difficult to enjoy these first signs of spring, because Parvana
broke up with him before they had even reached the changing room.

She grabbed his arm when they had nearly reached the Quidditch pitch. "Can I talk to you for
a second?"

"Always," said James. He waved the rest of the team on. "You lot go get changed, we'll meet
you there."

Marlene wolf-whistled, and Peregrine Flint clapped James on the back as he passed.
"Nothing like a little pre-match snog, eh?"

"Shut it, Flint," said James good-naturedly. Once the rest of the team had darted ahead, he
joined Parvana, who was hovering near a row of seats and clasping her hands together so
tightly her fingers were going white. "Something the matter, Parv?"

"Erm," she said, not meeting his gaze.

James frowned. Parvana was usually full of calm, confident energy before a match. An
unpleasant thought began to form in his mind. "Did you forget to stretch again last night?
Because I told you, if you want to achieve your full range of motion today —"

"I stretched," said Parvana. "This is something different."

"Oh, good." James relaxed. He could deal with anything else.

Parvana's dark eyes finally met his own, and she took a deep breath. "I think we should break
up."

James blinked. "Wait — what? You're joking, right? Did Peregrine put you up to this?" He
craned his neck, trying to see if Peregrine Flint was hiding in the stands. "Very funny, Flint,
wherever you are, trying to put me off my game —"

"It wasn't Peregrine's idea," said Parvana apologetically. "I just — I've been thinking about
what you said last week. About how all we do is talk about Quidditch. And I think you're
right."

James couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Parv. I wasn't complaining about that. I think
it's brilliant."

"I know you do," she said. "It is nice. But my sister, Priyanka, in Hufflepuff… she's got a
boyfriend, too, and their relationship is a bit different from ours. They snog, for example. A
lot. And I just… I think maybe I'd like a relationship that was more like Priyanka's."

"We snog," said James defensively.

"We've snogged twice," said Parvana. "And I had to practically beg the second time."

"Because I thought you were joking!"

"Why would I joke about wanting to kiss you?"

"I dunno," he said. "Sirius does it all the time."

Parvana shook her head. "I'm sorry, James. I really do think you're a nice bloke. I just think
we'd be better off as mates."

"But we're —" He broke off. It probably wasn't a good time to tell her he thought they were
soulmates. "You're certain, then?"

"I think so," said Parvana. "I'm really sorry."

James chewed on his lip. This whole conversation wasn't making much sense. "What about
the match?"

"What about it?"

"You should've waited till after the match to break up with me," he said. "I'm gonna be in my
head now. What if we lose?"

Parvana wrapped her arms around her waist like she was trying to hug herself. "I didn't mean
to throw you off. I just — I thought I should tell you as soon as I was certain. This is more
important than the match, isn't it?"

"No," he said. "Nothing's more important than Quidditch."

"This is!" said Parvana. "We're talking about our real lives, our relationship. It matters."

Privately, James still thought that Quidditch was more important, but it didn't seem the time
to tell Parvana that. "Maybe we're incompatible."

She bit her lip. "Maybe."

"Alright," he said. He ran both his hands through his hair, trying to get a handle on himself.
"Alright. So we're broken up. Fine. Will you promise to still catch the Snitch for me?"

She smiled a little. "Of course I will."

But Parvana didn't catch the Snitch.

This wasn't entirely her fault, much as James wished it was. Rather, it was the result of him
making several less-than-optimal calls during the second half of the match. Mostly he'd been
trying to get the team into formations that kept Parvana as far away from him as possible —
so that she wouldn't distract him with her braid and her aloofness and her… desire to snog.
Whatever that was about.
After the match — they lost to Hufflepuff, one hundred and seventy to ninety — James didn't
stick around to console the team. Instead, he sprinted back to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve the
Cloak and a bottle of Firewhisky that had been collecting dust under Peter's bed.

His friends found him several hours later. He was in stag form, laying dejectedly in Hagrid's
vegetable patch, an empty bottle of Firewhisky beside him.

"Oh, dear." Sirius stuffed a fist into his mouth in an effort not to grin. "What's gotten into
you, Prongs?"

The stag let out a horrible bleating noise, and James turned back into himself, arms and legs
still sprawled into the dirt. "Thought I'd take a leaf out of your book. Wallow in self-pity."

Sirius helped James into a sitting position, which made his head spin rather unpleasantly. "No
offence, Prongs, but you don't do the whole tortured loner thing all that well."

"I've been alone in the cold for ages. All alone… and it's been so cold…"

"It's been at least an hour and a half, I'll give you that," said Peter.

"Hagrid thought you were dying," added Remus. "He burst into the Great Hall during dinner,
sobbing about a majestic stag lying injured among his cabbage. He's been drinking heavily as
well, actually. Gathering up the courage to put you out of your misery."

"Good," moaned James. "Let him. This life is too hard."

"Come on, now, Prongs," said Sirius gently. He squatted and took James' face in his hands.
"None of that. Hufflepuff's only ahead by twenty points. If they lose to Slytherin, the Cup
could still be ours…"

"Sod the Cup," muttered James, and his friends exchanged looks of alarm.

Peter put a hand on James' forehead. "I think he's got a fever."

"Prongs, mate," said Sirius slowly, "you're not out here moping because we lost?"

James shook his head, and the nausea that followed made him immediately regret doing so. "I
lost. I lost the person… the most important person… Besides you, Pads," he amended, giving
Sirius a cross-eyed smile.

"Ah," said Remus. "Parvana?"

"Don't say her name," gasped James. "It hurts me. It hurts… right here…" He pointed at his
stomach, which was indeed hurting quite a lot.

A wry smile twisted Sirius' mouth. "That'll be the Firewhisky, mate."

" 'Mate,' " repeated James. "I thought we were soulmates. But we're not. No souls. Only
mates. She —" He listed to the side; Sirius barely managed to jump out of the way before
James was sick all over Hagrid's cabbage.
"Never mind," said Remus as he Vanished the sick with practised efficiency. "The cabbage
probably appreciates the extra nutrients."

"Glad to be of service," groaned James. His broken heart hurt a little less after vomiting.

"Did she say why she wanted to end things?" asked Sirius, sitting gingerly back down beside
James.

"Said we didn't snog," said James. "Complete tosh."

"It is a load of tosh," said Sirius with the tone of someone reassuring a toddler. "You two
snogged loads."

"It was indecent," agreed Remus.

"Disgusting," said Peter.

"We did!" said James. "We snogged loads. Well. At least twice."

"Twice is plenty," said Sirius firmly. "You're better off without her, Prongs. If Parvana wants
to go on and date a pair of lips, she can be my guest. She doesn't know what she's missing."

"Too right," said Peter.

James made a noise that was half-hiccup, half-affirmative grunt. "Too right."

"That's the spirit," said Sirius. "You'll bounce back. You always do."

"Yeah," said James. "I don't need her. I've got you lot." With some effort, he managed to
focus on them. "I love you."

"We love you too," said Remus. "Even when you smell like vomit and deer."

James got unsteadily to his feet. "Think I'm gonna… go for a run in the Forest. Clear my
mind."

"I'm coming," said Sirius at once. "You'll need someone to distract Hagrid if he comes
charging in with that crossbow of his."

Peter had already vanished, replaced by a plump rat which squeaked something that sounded
uncannily like 'me, too'.

Once James had transformed, he gave Remus a look that very clearly said, Are you coming or
what?

"Go on, then," said Remus, scrambling onto the stag's back. "Let see if we can find the
centaurs this time."
 Mischief Managed
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

"Good news," said Sirius, taking a seat next to Remus in the library. "It's finished."

"It is?" asked Peter. Sirius nodded solemnly.

"Let's see it, then," said James, looking eagerly up from the copy of Quidditch Through the
Ages he'd been reading. He seemed to be coping with his heartbreak by becoming even more
obsessive about Quidditch than usual. Sirius wasn't sure that was healthy, but at least it kept
James from pining after Parvana.

"Very well," said Sirius, and he produced a roll of parchment from his bag with a flourish. "I
present to you: the Magic Map."

"We're not calling it that," said Remus immediately.

James spread the map on the table and whistled appreciatively. Sirius made a face at Remus.
"What's wrong with calling it the Magic Map?"

"Erm," said Peter, "it's a terrible name?"

James shoved his glasses up his nose and let out a little huff. "You call this finished,
Padfoot?"

"Just about," said Sirius vaguely. He'd caught a glimpse of Regulus, who was seated with
Edmund Avery at the other end of the library and appeared to be drawing Avery's star chart
for him.

"You haven't even added the dungeons," said James. "Plus there are only two dots on here,
and they're labelled Regulus Black and Remus Lupin."

"Daisy Hookum's on there somewhere, too," said Sirius. "Check the Hufflepuff common
room, you'll see."

Across the library, Regulus lifted his head at the mention of his name. He'd always had
hearing like a bat. It was unnatural.

"Also," said James, "do I give a Knut about Remus Lupin's whereabouts? No. I don't. The
opposite, in fact."

"How touching," said Remus. "That's very kind of you to say."

James ignored him. "The whole point of this map is to track prefects and beautiful girls."

"And Sally Dearborn," said Sirius quickly.

"That's secondary," said James. "Tell me, Padfoot. Where are the prefects and beautiful girls?
Where is Sally Dearborn, if she's so important?"

"Moony's got a badge, technically," said Sirius defensively. "So does Reg. And you said
yourself that Daisy is at least an eight." He decided not to mention that he'd tried adding Sally
to the map, but nothing had happened. It was possible — not likely, but possible — that he'd
bungled the spell. He didn't like to think of the alternative.

"Daisy a seven point five," said James. "If she played Quidditch she'd be an eight. And,
honestly, Padfoot. Out of all the prefects, you add your own brother?"

Sirius cast a reflexive glance towards the other end of the library and groaned. Regulus had
definitely heard that. He was muttering something into Avery's ear.

"Look," said Sirius. "He's my brother, alright? I have to keep an eye on him —"

James raised an eyebrow as Avery got up from the table and began to saunter towards them.
"Seems he's got friends who look after him, too."

"Shit," said Sirius, scrambling to hide the map. "Shit, shit —"

"Give it here," said Peter. "I've got an idea." He pulled a jet black quill from his bag and
waggled it at Sirius.

Sirius grinned, shoving the map towards Peter. "Work your magic, Wormtail."

Peter nodded and began to write furiously on the map, his tongue between his teeth as he
concentrated.

Avery put both hands on the back of Sirius' chair. "Behaving ourselves, are we?"

"Trying to," replied James shortly.

"I'm glad to hear that," said Avery in the most nasal voice Sirius had ever heard. "How about
you, Black? Are you being good?"

"Don't patronise me, you pompous twit," he growled, ignoring the warning look Remus was
giving him. "If you don't get your slimy hands off my chair —"

Avery laughed a nasal laugh. "I do apologise. Didn't realise this specific library chair
belonged to the House of Black."

"Your arse belongs to the House of Black," muttered Sirius. Remus put his head in his hands.

"Very clever," said Avery. "You know, Regulus says your parents consider you to be the
bright one, but I'm starting to reconsider if that's true after all."

Sirius barked a laugh. "That's a bit rich coming from you, dung brains. Tell me, how much
are you paying my brother to draw your star charts for you?"
Avery flushed but didn't take the bait. He turned towards Peter instead. "What've you got
there, Pettigrew?"

Peter's head peeked over the top of the map. "Nothing." He sounded perfectly guilty; his
voice even had a little tremble to it.

"Didn't look like nothing when I was on the other side of the library," said Avery. "Hand it
over, Pettigrew."

"It's my Divination homework, I swear!" squeaked Peter. "It's really boring, promise —"

"Do you want detention?"

"Oh, Merlin's beard, no," said Peter, blinking widely.

Avery smirked and gestured towards the map. "Give it here, then."

Peter cast all of them an anguished glance; Sirius thought he spotted the glimmer of a tear.
With the air of a prisoner waiting to be Kissed, Peter handed the map to Avery.

Avery turned the map over, frowning, and Sirius saw that the parchment had been wiped
clean. "There's nothing written here."

"Huh," said Peter. "Guess I didn't get too far on my Divs homework." As Avery examined the
parchment, Peter tossed the black quill to James, who caught it and pocketed it in one swift
gesture.

Avery didn't notice; he shook the blank sheet of parchment at Peter. "You were writing all
over this a minute ago. I saw you. You can't fool me."

"That's so confusing," said Peter. "Maybe you need glasses?"

"Yeah, right." Avery drew his wand. "It'll be detention for all of you when I find out what sort
of perverted things you've been drawing —"

"Not detention," said Peter. Remus looked like he was trying very hard to keep a straight
face. "Oh, Merlin, please no. Not detention, please, I'll do anything —"

"Too late," said Avery. He touched his wand to the parchment. "Bet you didn't realise that
there are spells to reveal hidden writing, did you?"

"Spells?" squeaked Peter. "Galloping gorgons, we'll be ruined if you cast a spell…"

"I thought as much," said Avery smugly. "Secretus revelio."

Black ink bloomed across the parchment, and Sirius grew tense. If Peter had botched
whatever he'd been planning —

But the swirls of ink didn't reveal the carefully-drawn map of the castle; instead, writing
appeared on the parchment in very familiar penmanship.
Mr Wormtail bids Edmund 'Dung Brains' Avery good day and advises him against meddling
in business he hasn't the mental capacity to understand.

Mr Padfoot agrees with Mr Wormtail and shall use smaller words to explain that Edmund is
a nosy half-wit and an insufferable arse.

Mr Moony would like to disclose that Edmund's deficiencies are due to being dropped on the
head as a child, a fact that Edmund's mother confessed privately to Mr Moony the last time
they were in bed together.

Mr Prongs has nothing more to add, as Edmund is unable to read, the idiot.

Veins were bulging in Avery's neck. "What — you — what the —"

"Huh," said Peter, craning his neck. "That wasn't there a minute ago."

"Detention." Avery was breathing hard. "All of you."

"But we didn't do anything," said Peter. "We didn't write those words. I've never even met a
Mr… Wormbottom, was it?"

"I don't need a reason to give you detention," said Avery. "You lot are — You're a gang of
marauders. Mischief-makers."

"That's extremely hurtful," said Peter.

"Marauders," repeated James with a whistle. "Those are some cutting words, Edmund."

"I can give you cutting," said Avery, raising his voice. "You're dirt. Blood traitors."

Sirius stood abruptly and shoved his chair into Avery, nearly knocking him over. "Say that
again, a little louder. So everyone can hear you."

"Gladly," sneered Avery. "I cannot wait for the day the Dark Lord puts you in your place, you
bunch of up-to-no-good blood traitors —"

"Oh, my," said James. "Think you've caught Pince's attention."

He waved jauntily towards the front desk. Madam Pince had set down her book and was
glaring at Avery as if he'd just personally threatened to burn down the library.

Avery gulped.

Five incredibly satisfying minutes later, Avery had been banned from the library, along with
ten other unlucky students who had happened to be studying nearby. Not wanting to be
caught the commotion, Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter ducked under the Invisibility Cloak
and crept out of the library.

"That was brilliant, Wormtail," said James once they were in the corridor.
Peter blushed. "It was all thanks to the quill."

"I can't believe he called us marauders," sniggered Sirius. "Talk about a weak insult."

Remus looked thoughtful. "You know, Pads… It's not that the Magic Map isn't an incredible
name, but…"

James snapped his fingers. "The Marauders' Map."

"Precisely." Remus smiled.

"The map's still there, underneath the writing," said Peter. "It's just hidden until it gets the
right phrase — sort of like a password. Any ideas?"

"Well," said Sirius, "if we simply let it know we're up to no good…"

Peter was already pulling out the black quill. "And to wipe the map clean?"

"I was thinking 'dirt and blood traitors' ," said James, "but that's a bit strong."

"Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?" said Sirius. "Someone ought to inform my
mum."

"What about 'mischief managed' ?" asked Remus. "It's simple."

"Our mischief is never managed," said Sirius. "Not fully, at least."

"I like it," said James. "It'll do for now. Good work today, Marauders. Peter, I officially dub
you Most Valuable Pettigrew."

Peter paused from scribbling long enough to take a deep bow.

In the middle of March, the first warm day of the year arrived like an unexpected breeze.
Rays of sunlight streamed through the castle windows, warming the classrooms until they
were stiflingly hot. Outside, the grounds of Hogwarts beckoned invitingly, promising
sunshine and fluffy clouds and flowers in bloom.

Mary and Marlene promptly began to suffer terrible cramps, causing them to miss Double
Charms that afternoon in favour of sunning themselves by the lake. Lily joined them after the
lesson. "Flitwick hopes you feel better soon," she said, untying her trainers and letting her
toes sink into the dirt. "He also assigned you each an extra five inches on Blood-Stanching
Charms for homework."

"Shit," said Marlene. "He doesn't have much sympathy for womanly troubles, does he?"
"I think he's trying to empower you," said Lily.

"I swear I actually have cramps," said Mary, who was lying in the grass and looking very
relaxed. "I think I felt a twinge just now."

After a half hour of seeing who could skip rocks the farthest — Marlene won, though Lily
swore she'd had her wand up her sleeve — Marlene and Mary decided to take a nap. Lily
wasn't tired, so she went for a walk instead.

She wandered around the perimeter of the lake, her thoughts turned to Sally Dearborn. She
was no closer to figuring out what had happened to Sally than she had been last term, but she
couldn't give up. Dumbledore and the other professors had already stopped looking for Sally;
if she gave up, too, it was likely Sally would never be found. And then what would happen to
her?

Nothing good, Lily was sure. She figured one of two things had happened: either Sally had
run away of her own volition, in which case she would reappear eventually, or else the
Slytherins had gotten to her. And if Sally was with the Slytherins, then she was either in
danger or dead.

There were footprints in the mud at the edge of the lake. Lily stepped into each one as she
walked, trying to match the stride of whoever had been here before her. The footprints gave
her an idea; maybe there were signs of Sally on Hogwarts grounds. She might have left
tracks, or torn clothing. It was worth investigating.

Hagrid's hut came into view as she rounded the lake. Hagrid was in his vegetable patch,
wearing a floppy hat on his huge head and using his umbrella to water the turnips. She waved
at him as she walked by, and he beckoned her closer.

"Alrigh', Lily?"

"Hi, Hagrid," she said, smiling. She'd been close with the groundskeeper during her early
years at Hogwarts; he'd been her mentor, of sorts. He'd helped her adjust to the magical world
and had even taken her shopping for her first wand. "How're the turnips?"

"Goin' ter be a good crop this year," replied Hagrid. He gave her a sly look. "Could use a bit
o' help with the waterin', though. Know anyone who migh' be interested?"

"I've got a free period now, funnily enough," said Lily, drawing her wand. It had been years
since she'd sought Hagrid's guidance; it would be nice to spend some time with him.

Hagrid watched her closely as she sent a stream of water from her wand towards the row of
turnips. "You alrigh', Lily?"

She hesitated. Was she alright? She supposed she was. She was alive, after all. She'd survived
the attack on the Hogwarts Express.

But in general, things were… complicated. And as big as Hagrid's heart was, his advice had
always been simple. His refrains were always the same: trust Dumbledore, be kind to
Petunia, and don't be friends with that Snape boy. She'd long since outgrown his guidance.

Maybe Hagrid had a point, though. After all, look how things with Severus had turned out.

"You can talk ter me," said Hagrid gently. "Lots on yer mind this term, eh?"

Lily avoided his gaze, focusing on one of the more parched-looking turnips. Hagrid had
always been more perceptive than most students gave him credit for. "You could say that."

"You were on the train, weren't yeh?" he asked. Lily nodded, biting her lip, and Hagrid's tone
softened. "If yer havin' nightmares, Poppy makes a righ' powerful Sleeping Potion. There's no
shame in it — load o' folks take 'em, and for lesser reasons, too."

"I'm not having nightmares," said Lily. Which was mostly true. "What happened on the train
was awful, but… That's not what worries me. I..." Hagrid put a hand on her arm, lowering her
wand, and she trailed off.

"These turnips can take care o' themselves," he said. "Come inside, I'll put the kettle on."

She took a seat at his table, her feet barely brushing the floor. Hagrid poured her an enormous
cup of tea and set a plate of inedible rock cakes on the table. She felt like she was eleven
years old again.

"Now," said Hagrid, sitting across from her. "Wha's got yeh looking so worried? I could see
yeh frownin' from a mile off when yeh were walkin' around the lake…"

Lily took a sip of tea. She felt a little silly confiding in Hagrid like this, as if she were still
worried about fitting in at Hogwarts and whether or not Petunia hated her. Her problems
seemed so much bigger now.

"Honestly?" she said. "I keep thinking about what happened to Sally Dearborn."

"Ah," Hagrid said sympathetically. "Yeh were close with her, were yeh?"

"Well… not exactly," admitted Lily. "It just bothers me. Even though she's been gone for
months, I still think about what might have happened to her." She looked pleadingly at
Hagrid. He was part of the staff at Hogwarts; maybe he had some answers for her. "How can
someone go missing at Hogwarts? It's supposed to be the safest place in the world.
Dumbledore makes it sound like she's dead, but even he doesn't know for certain. Does he?"

Hagrid sighed heavily. "Dumbledore's a great man, but he's no Seer. Wha' happened to Sally's
got 'im stumped, too. 'S far as I know, at least."

Lily decided she wasn't above flattering Hagrid to find out more. "You've got to know more
than that," she said. "You're practically a professor. Dumbledore trusts you more than some
professors, doesn't he?"

Hagrid's chest swelled at the mention of him being a professor. "Well, I wouldn't go as far as
all tha' ," he said modestly. "But Dumbledore trusts me, tha's true."
"Have you got any theories about what might've happened to Sally? Or heard anything that
seems, I dunno, important?"

"Nothin' I haven't already told the Headmaster," said Hagrid. "Me an' Fang were patrolling
the grounds that night. Sally never left the castle, I can tell yeh tha' much. We'd've seen her if
she had. Professor Kettleburn and I searched for her the next morning, even, after
Dumbledore realised she was missin', but we didn't find a thing. No, Sally didn't leave the
castle; I'm sure o' that."

"What if she had something like an Invisibility Cloak?"

"An Invisibility Cloak's no match for Fang's nose," said Hagrid proudly. "Not ter mention
Professor Kettleburn's the best naturalist around. Tha' man can track a Thestral in the Dark
Forest on a moonless night. But he couldn't find a trace o' Sally."

Lily took a sip of tea, disappointed. She'd been hoping Hagrid might have found evidence
that Sally had run away. As things stood, she really didn't want to go poking her nose around
Slytherin.

Hagrid's black eyes softened at her expression. "I'm sorry, Lily. I wish I could tell yeh wha'
happened ter Sally."

"It's alright," said Lily, and she forced herself to smile at him. She sensed that further talk of
Sally would just depress Hagrid, so she switched to telling him about her apprenticeship with
Healer Fenwick. Hagrid listened attentively while refilling her tea and shoving more rock
cakes at her, despite her protests.

She left Hagrid's hut as the sun was setting. She felt significantly more optimistic than when
she had first begun her walk around the lake. Maybe it was actually a good thing that Hagrid
hadn't seen Sally on the grounds. It meant the list of possibilities was narrowing.

During the prefect's meeting that evening, Lily signed up for a patrol shift in the dungeons.
She wanted to go back to Salazar's Corridor and examine it more closely. Her tracking spell
had led her there, after all; the corridor had to be significant. As she wrote her name, she
ignored the hole Regulus Black was apparently trying to burn into her skull with the force of
his gaze.

Beside her, Remus raised his eyebrows when he saw what she'd signed up for. "Didn't realise
you were keen on wandering the dungeons."

Lily's shoulders tensed, and she was about to let out a snappish retort, but the words faded in
her mouth when Remus bent to write his name next to hers. "You don't mind if I come with,
do you?" he asked.

"Of — of course not," she said, somewhat nonplussed. "That'd be nice, actually."

"Perfect," he said, straightening. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

When Lily met Remus in the Entrance Hall the following evening, he was carrying a quill
and some spare parchment, and there was a rat in his pocket.

"Erm," said Lily, squinting at the rat. "Is that…?"

"Good old Wormtail," said Remus, stroking the rat's head. "My little friend."

"I didn't realise you had a pet rat."

"Oh, I've had him for years," said Remus airily. "He usually stays in the dormitory, though."
He gestured to the dungeons. "Shall we?"

During their patrol of the dungeons, Lily tried to guide them towards the general area where
the tracking spell had stopped working. This proved more difficult than she had anticipated,
however. The dungeons were dark and labyrinthine, and she couldn't remember the way, for
one thing.

For another, Remus insisted on taking copious notes about the dimensions of the dungeon
corridors while his rat scampered up and down the dungeons. She peered over his shoulder as
he worked and was surprised to find that he was measuring everything in a unit called
'Wormtails'.

"Do I even want to know what you're doing?" she asked.

"Definitely not," said Remus. He chewed on the edge of his quill as he added the words '26.5
Wmtls' beneath his rough sketch of the corridor they were in.

"You know the dungeons are Unplottable, right?" said Lily. "You can sketch the corridors and
rooms all you like, but you won't be able to make them fit together in a way that makes
sense."

"All of Hogwarts is Unplottable," said Remus. "Doesn't change a thing." At his feet,
Wormtail made what Lily swore was a dismissive noise.

"Right," said Lily. "Forget I asked."

After nearly two hours of wandering (Lily suspected they were going in circles), the corridor
split off in two directions, and she got her bearings. "Oh, good, we're close," she said,
grabbing Remus' elbow and dragging him along. "Let's take the left-hand corridor, why don't
we…"

From there it was only a short walk to Salazar's Corridor. Remus whistled as he examined the
statues of Salazar Slytherin. "I had no idea this existed."

"Neither did I," said Lily. She was itching to pull out her wand and try to figure out the
corridor's secrets. "Bit out of the way, isn't it?"

Remus ran his hands over one of the statues, which depicted Salazar as an armoured warrior,
wielding a lance in one hand and a wand in the other. "Reckon these are hiding something?"
"No idea."

"Oh, sorry," said Remus. "I was speaking to Wormtail."

Lily snorted. "Of course you were." She crouched down and cast a weak Lumos, running her
wand over the stone floor. Maybe there was a trapdoor here, or a pressure plate that would
reveal a hidden room. Remus was right, the statues could be hiding something.

She snuck a glance at Remus. He was tapping his wand against a statue, muttering something
she couldn't make out, while Wormtail squeaked encouragingly. She wondered if Regulus
was right; maybe this corridor was full of curses that would kill you in a hundred different
but equally painful ways. Remus didn't seem very concerned about that though, so she wasn't
going to be either.

First things first, she decided. Find any hidden passageways or secret rooms. She cast an
Anti-Concealment charm under her breath, sweeping her palm across the floor, but nothing
happened. She examined where the floor met the wall, but there were no gaps to indicate a
secret passage.

"Bugger," she muttered. There had to be something hidden here. That tracking spell had
brought her to this corridor for a reason.

Maybe Sally Dearborn died here, whispered a voice in her head. Maybe there's nothing more
to it than that.

"Looking for something?" said a high, cold voice. Lily looked up; at the end of the corridor,
the portrait of young Salazar Slytherin was peering down his nose at her.

"No," said Lily defensively as she stood up. "Just — lost an earring the last time I was down
here —"

Salazar narrowed his eyes. The expression made him look exactly like a blonde Severus.
"Weasley, wasn't it?"

"Abbott," corrected Lily.

"Oh, yes," said Salazar. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "That's right. Abbott."

"Anyway," said Lily, "guess my earring isn't here, so I'll just be getting on…"

If anything in this corridor that could put a curse on her, she was certain that painting could.
She hurried to catch up with Remus, who was measuring the distance between a set of
statues. "Are you ready to keep moving?"

Remus blinked. "But I'm just getting started here. How far apart are these statues, do you
reckon? Eight Wormtails? Nine?"

"Erm, nine, I think," said Lily. "But that's not — I'm worried about that awful painting," She
jerked her head towards the end of the corridor. "It knows I'm not a pure-blood. I'm afraid it's
going to curse me, or something."
"Oh," said Remus. He glanced at the portrait, which was glaring at them. "I can take care of
that, actually." And before Lily could stop him, he made an extremely rude gesture towards
the painting. "Be nice to Lily Evans!" he called.

The painting looked as horrified as Lily felt. "Oh, my God," she said, caught between
laughter and panic. No more pretending to be an Abbott, then. "You actually —"

"Paintings are harmless," said Remus, turning back towards the statue. "Well, the Fat Lady on
a bad day isn't. But that scrawny fellow over there can't hurt you."

"You'd better be right," said Lily. "I'm blaming you if I wake up with Salazar's ghost looming
over me."

"We'll take care of him if he does," said Remus. Wormtail gave a decisive-sounding little
squeak.

Lily couldn't help but feel disappointed after her latest visit to Salazar's Corridor. She'd
thought she would have found something there to make sense of why her tracking spell had
led to her to that corridor in the first place. But she'd found nothing — not even any
dangerous Dark objects or curses! The next time she saw Regulus, she was going to tell him
that he was full of it.

It was frustrating. She had nothing to go on — no belongings of Sally's, no clues, no idea

what had happened to her. She only knew the things Sally hadn't done, and that wasn't much
help at all. Sally hadn't left the castle. She hadn't been seen by anyone. And she hadn't hidden
in a secret room in the dungeons.

During her History of Magic lesson, Lily scratched a list onto her parchment instead of
listening to Professor Binns' droning. If she could get the facts in order, maybe she'd notice a
pattern. A new lead would be nice.

Sally Dearborn, she wrote, underlining the name. Killed (or kidnapped?) because of her
father's politics? Saved by family? Ran away? She chewed on her quill before crossing out
both 'saved by family' and 'ran away'. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore had made it
clear that Sally's father had no better idea of her whereabouts than they did, and Hagrid had
told her Sally hadn't left the castle.

That left killed or kidnapped, then. Neither of those things were good.

Possible culprits, Lily wrote. Mulciber's gang. Real Death Eaters/Voldemort? A jealous ex-
boyfriend? Accident?

Well, she could discount the 'accident' theory fairly easily. Students didn't accidentally vanish
into thin air. It couldn't have been the real Death Eaters, or Voldemort, either — if they could
get into Hogwarts, they wouldn't have needed to attack the Hogwarts Express.

So that left either Mulciber's gang or someone from Sally's past that Lily didn't know about.
She'd never seen Sally with a boyfriend, but she supposed it was possible. In fact, she
probably should eliminate anyone from Sally's past before focusing on the Slytherins. If she
was going to confront Mulciber's gang, she needed to be certain they were the only possible
suspects. She didn't want them to get off on a technicality.

Lily scanned her notes and made a face. She may as well have filled the parchment with
question marks for all the good it had done her. She was the worst detective ever.

"You were taking diligent notes today," commented Marlene as they walked back to
Gryffindor Tower. "Didn't realise you were so interested in goblin wars."

"Har, har," said Lily. "I was just trying to get my thoughts in order. You know, about Sally,
and what might have happened to her."

Marlene gave her a weird look. "You're not still on about that, are you?"

"Erm, obviously I am," said Lily. "Is that a problem?"

"No," said Marlene, "it's just weird. You don't really think you can figure out what happened
to her, do you? Do you think you know better than Dumbledore? Or McGonagall?"

"Well, I think it's weird that everybody seems to have given up on finding out what happened
to her," said Lily. "Even Dumbledore seems more focused on the Aurors and the protections
around Hogwarts, now. Nobody's looking for her."

"We did look for her," said Marlene. "Six months ago. There were search parties for weeks,
remember? But nobody ever found anything. You can't expect things to continue with that
intensity indefinitely."

"I don't!" said Lily. "I just don't like how everyone's content to assume she met a bad end
because of her father's politics, when we don't even — when there's no proof —"

Marlene's mouth twisted sympathetically. "I get it. I didn't want to believe it either.
Dumbledore's speech at the start of term — it sounded like he was taking responsibility for
her death, didn't he?"

"It did," said Lily. "But Dumbledore doesn't know everything. Sally could still be alive, even
if he doesn't think so."

Marlene put a hand on Lily's shoulder. "Lily. We have to be realistic."

Lily crossed her arms. "I am being realistic. I know she's not hiding in the Owlery, eating
Pumpkin Pasties. That's not what bothers me."

"Then what?"
"It's so unjust. Every week, there are reports of disappearances in the Prophet. Muggle-borns
or half-bloods, usually. Nobody ever finds those people, either. They don't even look.
Everyone's become numb to it."

"Well, being numb doesn't mean people aren't bothered. Of course they are. But when
disappearances happen all the time…" Marlene trailed off ominously.

"People stop caring as much," said Lily.

"You can't fault them for that," said Marlene. "It becomes normal."

"It shouldn't," said Lily. "If I disappear tomorrow, will you give up on finding me, too?
Because it's normal for Muggle-borns to go missing?"

"Of course not," said Marlene. "Don't be stupid."

"Good," said Lily. "Then you can't be upset at me for not giving up on Sally." She raced up
the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories, not waiting for Marlene to follow her.

"Er, Lils?" called Marlene from the foot of the stairs. "Thought we were going to study in the
common room, Mary's saved us seats —"

"I'll just be a minute," said Lily. "I need to check something."

When she reached the top of the staircase, she rapped on the door of the seventh year girls'
dormitory. After a moment, the door swung open.

"Ah, hi," said a serious-looking girl with olive skin and curtains of long, straight black hair.
"It's Lily, right?"

"Yeah. Lily Evans." She didn't miss the surprised twitch of the girl's eyebrows at her last
name. "You're Isadora Pimentel, aren't you?"

Isadora nodded. Her waterfall of hair shimmered as she jerked her head towards the far end
of the dormitory, where a gangly girl with tan skin was flipping through a magazine. "That's
Cecilia Fenwick. Did you want help with your homework, or something? Because we're a bit
—"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," said Lily, and Isadora's serious expression relaxed a bit.
"Fenwick, did you say? I think I might have met a relative of yours, Cecilia."

Cecilia looked up, her dark eyes wide. "If it was my auntie, I apologise, she's been like that
since her Kelpie accident in the sixties —"

Lily grinned. "Not an auntie, I don't think. He was a Healer — Benjamin Fenwick?"

"Oh, Benjy!" exclaimed Cecilia. "He's my second cousin on my dad's side. Lovely, isn't he?"

"One of a kind," said Lily.

Isadora leaned against the wall, arms crossed as she watched their exchange. Cecilia sat up,
swinging her long legs over the edge of her bed. She patted the sheets, indicating Lily should
join her. "What can we do for you, then?" she asked.

Lily sat gratefully beside Cecilia. "You two were friends with Sally, right?"

At the mention of Sally's name, Isadora's posture stiffened, and Cecilia's friendly smile grew
a bit strained. "'Friends' was a strong word for Sally," said Cecilia, looking a bit apologetic.
"She didn't have many. We lived in the same dormitory, sure, but — friends? I don't know if
I'd go that far."

"She was kind of a bitch," said Isadora bluntly.

Cecilia made a face at Isadora. "She wasn't a bitch. She just had a strong personality."

"That's fine," said Lily. "Honestly, it doesn't matter if you were friends or not. I just wanted to
ask — did you know of anyone who might've wanted to hurt her? An ex-boyfriend, maybe?"

Isadora looked bored. "McGonagall's already asked us the same questions."

"She wasn't seeing anyone when she went missing," explained Cecilia. "I know she dated
Frank Longbottom, in the year above us, when we were fifth years, but aside from that…"

"She didn't do romance or friends," said Isadora.

Lily nodded. "I guess that isn't terribly surprising."

"I always got the impression she was only close with her father," said Cecilia. "He was her
only family, you know, and I think he was a bit paranoid. I mean, considering his politics, it
makes sense, but — I always got the impression he raised her to be a bit of a soldier."

"He was tough on her," said Isadora. "But I guess he had reason to be. Considering she's dead
now."

"Dori!" said Cecilia. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Fine," said Isadora. "She's only probably dead."

Cecilia cast Lily a half-exasperated look. "You see what I have to put up with? Always the
pessimist, I tell you…"

"So nobody wanted to hurt her," said Lily.

"I wanted to strangle her," said Isadora.

Cecilia rolled her eyes. "Nobody aside from you, Dori."

"What about people from Slytherin?" asked Lily. "Some of them are a bit — fanatical, if you
catch my drift."
"I don't think so," said Cecilia. "Although… there was that incident at the beginning of the
year with that creep Mulciber. But that's Mulciber, isn't it?"

Lily remembered the prefect meeting at the beginning of the year. Sally had seemed
unusually angry at Regulus. "Target practice," she said softly.

"That was only happened once, though," said Cecilia. "She never said anything about
Mulciber was targeting her specifically."

"She might've kept it to herself, though." said Lily. "She probably knows her father has a
reputation for being paranoid. She might not have wanted to come across the same way."

"Well, she had allies in Slytherin, too," said Isadora. "Even if Mulciber didn't like her, it
wasn't like they were all after her."

Lily blinked. That was new. "Allies in Slytherin? How do you mean?"

Isadora leaned back, smirking at the look on Lily's face. "Aren't you a prefect? She got on
fine with a few of the Slytherin prefects."

"What?" said Lily. "Like who?"

Isadora shrugged. "That annoying prat Avery."

That didn't make any sense. "Avery goes round with Mulciber, though," said Lily. "Sally
couldn't stand that group of Slytherins."

"Well, that's true," said Isadora. "Avery's the least evil of the lot, though. I saw them together
on the fifth-floor landing the night she went missing. He was offering to escort her to
Gryffindor Tower. Trying to be a responsible prefect, I expect."

"Oh, my God," said Lily. "So you're saying Sally went wandering off with Avery and
nobody's seen her since."

"No," said Isadora, "because she refused. Told him to bugger off. She was very clear."

"And what did Avery do?" asked Lily. "Did he get angry?"

"Got his precious feelings hurt, more like," said Isadora. "Sally does that. He went back down
the stairs, she continued up the stairs, and I went to study in the library because it's hard to
think when Sally's in the dormitory."

Cecilia leaned over to stage-whisper in Lily's ear. "Isadora and Sally didn't get along."

"I would've never guessed," said Lily drily. "Isadora, did you tell Professor McGonagall
about seeing Sally and Avery together?"

"Of course not," said Isadora. "What was there to tell?" She adopted a mockingly high-
pitched tone. " 'Hi Professor, just wanted to let you know that a prefect offered to walk the
Head Girl to Gryffindor Tower, and when she said no, he backed off and they parted ways.'
I'm sure McGonagall would have found that riveting."

"Alright," said Lily. She could tell Isadora's patience was wearing thin. "Thanks for the
information. Will you two let me know if you remember anything else that seems important?"

"Of course," said Cecilia, at the same time Isadora said, "Probably not."

As Lily left the dormitory, she could hear Isadora muttering. "That was surprising. I guess
Sally had friends after all."

"Oh, hush," came Cecilia's voice. "The poor thing was worried, I thought she was sweet…"

Lily grimaced. They clearly thought she was being naive. Not that she cared, much — Cecilia
and Isadora could call her whatever they wanted, now that they'd given her a new lead.

She'd suspected for a while that everything led back to the Slytherins, and this was further
proof. There was no way she could talk to Avery directly about that night — he'd only hex
her — but maybe somebody else could. Maybe she could catch Regulus alone and ask him
about Avery.

Regulus. Sirius' words echoed in her mind like a warning. Don't bother him about this. You'll
only muddle him up.

Sirius could shove it, she decided. He was just like Petunia, too bitter to acknowledge that
there was anything good about his younger sibling. Lily knew better. She'd ask Regulus for
help, and he'd give it to her. Wouldn't he?

Finding Regulus Black was more difficult than Lily had anticipated. He ate with Mulciber's
gang at mealtimes, but she didn't dare approach him then. And during their prefect meeting
that week, he stuck to Avery like glue, slipping in and out of the meeting before it had even
finished.

She considered trying to catch him after one of his classes, but she had no idea what the fifth-
year Slytherin class schedule looked like. She suspected, a little nastily, that she might have
had a better grip on the Slytherin schedule if Severus hadn't spent most of the previous year
avoiding her at all costs.

Finally, only a few days before the Easter holidays, she spotted Regulus in the Entrance Hall.
He emerged from the corridor that led to the kitchens, stuffing what looked like a handful of
meat pies into his bag.

"Regulus," she said, running a little to catch up with him. "Can we talk?"
His eyes widened, alarmed that she would dare speak to him public. He looked over her head
at the other students milling about the Entrance Hall.

"Oh, for God's sake," said Lily exasperatedly. "It'll only be a minute."

"Fine," said Regulus shortly. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back into the
corridor that led to the kitchens, letting the door swing shut behind them. "What's this about,
then?"

Without meaning to, Lily glanced at the meat pies that were threatening to spill out of his
bag. Nestled under the pies was what looked to be a roasted chicken.

Regulus followed her gaze. "I've been working on a project in my dormitory," he explained.
"A painting of my mum. It needs to be finished soon. I just needed to grab a bite to eat."

"Ah," said Lily. "I didn't realise you were an artist."

A faint flush crept up Regulus' neck. "I'm not, really," he muttered.

"But you're painting a portrait of your mum?"

"I mean... that doesn't — it's not like I'm any good —"

Regulus looked like he was about to put his face into his bag of meat pies out of
embarrassment, so Lily changed the subject. "I'm sure it's brilliant," she said. "I just have a
quick question, and then I'll let you get back to painting. Did you know that Avery spoke to
Sally Dearborn the night she went missing?"

The colour vanished from Regulus' face. "What?"

"Yeah, apparently he offered to escort her to Gryffindor Tower."

Regulus' inhaled sharply. "How — how did you find out about that?"

"A friend of Sally's saw them together," said Lily. "You don't think — Avery wouldn't have
hurt Sally, would he?"

Regulus made a little jerking motion that might have been a shrug. Lily narrowed her eyes.
"Regulus. Please. You have to tell me what you know."

"I don't — I don't know anything," said Regulus.

Lily crossed her arms. "Bullshit."

Regulus sighed and glanced around the empty corridor, as if he expected to find people
eavesdropping. "Look. I can't give you any details, but I know Mulciber and Sally got into it
at the beginning of last term."

"I know," said Lily, and Regulus looked at her, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I heard about that," said Lily. "You lot weren't exactly subtle. What was it Sally said
called it — 'target practice' ?" She drew quotes in the air with her fingers.

Regulus grimaced. "Right. My point is — Mulciber might have had it out for Sally, but Avery
— he's not like that. He's not one to try anything on his own."

"What if he was acting on Mulciber's orders, though?" asked Lily. "What if he hurt Sally
because Mulciber told him to?"

Regulus shook his head. "I don't think so. It's probably a coincidence that Sally's friend saw
them together."

Lily frowned. "I'm not stupid, you know. Sev and I were mates last year. I know the sort of
stuff Mulciber gets up to with his awful group — the group you're part of. You're protecting
them."

"I'm not," said Regulus. "I promise. I'm not even… I'm doing the minimum for them, alright?
Unlike some people, I don't get off on learning Dark magic."

Lily raised her eyebrows. She'd suspected Mulicber's gang was dabbling in the Dark Arts,
and this was confirmation. She wondered who was teaching them Dark magic.

"Regardless," said Regulus, who seemed to realise that he had said too much. "I don't think
Avery was involved in Sally's disappearance."

"Maybe not," she said, "but he might have seen something significant, even if he wasn't
involved directly." She hesitated. "Do you think… could you talk to him about it? For me?"

She knew even as she asked the question that it was hopeless. The expression on Regulus'
face said as much.

"I'm just trying to keep my head down," he said. "If I start poking my nose where it doesn't
belong, I could get into trouble. Real trouble."

"Like the sort of trouble Sally got into?"

Regulus looked deadly serious. "Exactly."

Lily shook her head, disappointed, and this more than anything seemed to gall Regulus. He
ran his hand through his hair much the same way Sirius did, looking frustrated. "I wish I
could help you, alright? I wish things were different. But I can't. I can't."

"You're covering for them," said Lily. "You're… if you don't help, you're just as bad as they
are. You're letting them get away with it."

"I'm not — I've got no choice."

"Wrong," said Lily. "You have a choice. You just don't like the consequences."
 Regulus closed his eyes, pained. "If you knew," he said. "If you had any idea…"

He looked so vulnerable. He looked just as resigned as Severus had during fifth year. She'd
thought she'd understood what the pressure in Slytherin was like, but now she realised that
the situation might be more dire than she'd imagined.

"Tell me," she said. "I can help you."

"You can't," said Regulus. "Nobody can."

"I could —"

"The food is getting cold," he said. The chill in his voice indicated that their conversation was
over. "Can I get back to my painting?"

Lily felt tears burn at the corners of her eyes, and she had to fight to keep her face neutral.
Sirius had been right. She couldn't save Regulus either.

"Alright," she said softly. "If you change your mind — if you think you might need help, no
matter what it's for, you can come to me, alright?"

Regulus let out an incredulous little snort. "You really think that's ever going to happen?"

"All the same," said Lily. "The offer stands."

Regulus pressed his lips together like he was biting back a sharp retort. After a moment, he
gave a twitch of his head, just enough to indicate he'd understood, and then he was gone.

Chapter End Notes

What do you think, is Lily on the right track? Is Sally alive or dead, and if the Slytherins
got to her, how'd they do it? I'd love to hear your theories!
 Toujours Pur

On Friday evening, Sirius stuffed his belongings into his trunk and joined the long queue
outside Professor McGonagall's office, waiting to use her Floo. He would have much
preferred to stay at Hogwarts over the Easter holidays — he'd planned to tell McGonagall he
needed more Apparition practice — but Dumbledore had requested that all students return
home for Easter. Officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had finally
finished canvassing Hogwarts and were planning to reinforce the castle's defences and
protective charms over the holidays. Apparently, this was easier to do without hundreds of
students underfoot.

Professor McGonagall nodded as Sirius stepped into her office. She gestured towards the
fireplace. "Whenever you're ready, Black."

Sirius grimaced. "You know, Professor, I haven't quite mastered Apparition yet. I was
thinking, it might be better if I stay here… get some extra practice…"

"I'm sure the Potters will be more than happy to let you practice in their back garden," said
Professor McGonagall briskly.

"Ah," said Sirius. So she hadn't heard that he'd reunited with his family. Not that it mattered
— he doubted she'd care. "Yeah. I bet they would be."

He heaved his trunk into the fireplace and stepped into the emerald flames, bending low so as
not to hit his head on the mantle. "Grimmauld Place," he muttered, hoping Professor
McGonagall couldn't hear.

Her hawklike eyes flashed towards him, but green flames obscured his vision before he could
make out her expression. Not thirty seconds later, the Floo Network spat him onto the cold
marble of Grimmauld Place's kitchen floor.

Walburga was sitting at the table, stitching a doily while Kreacher poured her tea.

"Hi, Mum," groaned Sirius. He rubbed his sore knees as he stood up.

Her thin lips stretched into a satisfied smile. "Sirius. Darling. So good to have you home."

She made no move to stand, so Sirius reluctantly crossed the room to kiss her on the cheek.
"Is Father here?"

"He had a meeting at Gringotts with Blordak," said Walburga. "He said you are to review the
ledgers in his office before he returns."

"Alright," said Sirius blandly. Kreacher shot him a look, clearly suspicious. Sirius met
Kreacher's gaze and gave a little shrug. Ten more years, he thought. Ten years till I make you
into a rug.
Kreacher's eyes narrowed to slits above his bulbous nose, as if he could hear Sirius' thoughts.
Sirius winked.

"Regulus arrived half an hour ago," said Walburga, oblivious to the tension as she ran a
needle through her doily. "He's in his room, painting. I trust you've seen the portrait he's
working on?"

"Glimpses of it," said Sirius.

"And what do you think?"

Sirius could recognise a trap when he heard one. "It's very nice."

"He's quite the artist," said Walburga. "So sensitive, my youngest boy. So talented. I'm sure
your father wouldn't mind if you said hello to your brother before looking at the ledgers."

That was new. His mum had spent the majority of the Christmas holidays trying to keep him
and Regulus apart. "I'm allowed to spend time with Reg again, then?"

He immediately regretted baiting her. Walburga sucked in a breath, drawing all the air in the
room into her lungs. After a long moment, she exhaled and clucked her tongue. "Yes. But no
smoking those disgusting Muggle cigars of yours."

Sirius was fairly certain she only found the cigarettes repulsive because they were Muggle-
made. His father often smoked a pipe, after all. "Alright," he said. "No smoking and I can talk
to Regulus again. Sounds fair."

Walburga's attention had fully turned to the doily. "It's not good to be separated from family."
She sounded as if she was reciting from a book. "You and Regulus are brothers. You need
each other."

I don't need any of you, thought Sirius. Out loud, he said, "Thanks, Mum."

The door to Regulus' room was ajar. Regulus was standing in the middle of the room,
examining his portrait of Walburga. Sirius knocked, and Regulus gestured for him to come in
without taking his eyes off of the painting.

Although large parts of the portrait remained unfinished, its face was recognisably
Walburga's. She was wearing a deep green dress with a broad neckline that exposed her pale
neck and shoulders, though she wore no jewellery.

"It's really coming along," commented Sirius, standing beside Regulus. He thought it best not
to add that, even in its unfinished state, the portrait gave him the creeps.

Regulus dragged his brush across his palette and began to add wisps of grey to the portrait's
hair. "You could say that."

Sirius frowned; Regulus' angular face looked drawn, and there were deep circles under his
eyes. "Are you alright?"
"Fine."

"Mum's not working you too hard with this portrait, is she? I can speak to her — fifth year's a
busy year, and if she's asking too much of you —"

Regulus laughed humourlessly. "She's not asking too much of me."

"Sure she isn't," said Sirius. "How many hours a week have you spent working on it this
term?"

"Irrelevant," said Regulus. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

Regulus picked up a bit of purple on his brush and swirled it into the shadows of Walburga's
hair. When combined with the other colours, it looked nearly black. "Like you said. I've got a
lot going on this year."

"Exactly," said Sirius. "You're taking, what, ten O.W.L.s? Not to mention you're on the
Quidditch team and you're a prefect. Add the painting on top and it's too much."

"Eleven O.W.L.s, actually," said Regulus. "Everything but Muggle Studies. And you're
forgetting the things I have to do with Mulciber and his lot, too."

Sirius' stomach felt like it had just dropped out from under him. "What's Mulciber making
you do? I swear, I'll murder him if it's anything evil —"

"It's really not a big deal," said Regulus. "It's just a lot of him trying to teach me curses I
already know. Well, that and — I don't suppose you know what tubbing is?"

"No idea."

"Better for you," said Regulus. He shuddered a little before turning his focus back to the
painting. "He makes us clean the common room, too. Things like that. It's boring, really."

"Huh," said Sirius. "That doesn't sound particularly sinister."

"It's not," said Regulus. "It's just — everything together. That plus Quidditch, plus prefect
duties, plus O.W.L.s, plus — you get the picture, anyway."

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Sounds miserable."

Regulus nodded. "I'm not sleeping much."

"You should ask Mum for an extension on the painting," said Sirius. "I know she wants to
show it at that mad family dinner she's got planned for Easter, but you're her special darling
of a son. She'll reschedule the dinner if you ask."

Regulus was adding impossibly fine brush strokes to the neckline of Walburga's dress. He
shook his head. "I just need to finish already. Then I'll have one less thing to worry about."
"Wish I could help," said Sirius.

Regulus' thin lips twitched. "I don't. You're a terrible artist."

"I'm not terrible," said Sirius. "Just impatient."

"Exactly. No eye for detail."

"That's not true. As a matter of fact…" Sirius broke off. He'd been about to tell Regulus about
the map. It was probably best to keep that little project to himself.

"What?" asked Regulus.

"Nothing." Sirius strolled over to Regulus' bookshelf and began to browse the titles there. "I'll
read to you while you paint, how's that sound? What sort of story do you want?"

"I don't care. Just —" He flushed a little. "Pick something with a happy ending, alright?"

Sirius didn't dare tease him for that. He picked up a copy of Holidays with Hags. "Have you
read this one yet? It's about a warlock who accidentally makes a pact with a coven of hags.
He has to ask the princess of Bulgaria for help — there's a shockingly steamy section about
halfway through, it's my favourite part. Except it turns out the princess of Bulgaria is secretly
a Transfigured Hungarian Horntail, and one night while they're being intimate, she — well, I
won't spoil it for you."

Regulus almost smiled. "Perfect."

Sirius' duties as heir were every bit as odious as they'd been during the winter holidays.
Apparently, something like a new fiscal term had begun at Gringotts, which necessitated
many ledger reviews and speculation on businesses with names like 'Mr Moribund's
Apothecary' and 'Tallow's Toxic Tapers'.

Sirius was fairly certain that these businesses were fronts that funnelled money to the Dark
Lord. Unfortunately, his father flatly refused to consider backing other ventures ("Knockturn
Alley's growth over the last four years has been unprecedented," he'd said the last time Sirius
dared point out the discrepancies he'd found in the ledger).

At least Sirius was allowed to spend time with Regulus in the evening. He'd sprawl on
Regulus' bed, surrounded by thick tomes he'd taken from the Black family library. These
books supposedly contained long-forgotten secrets of the Wizarding World, though Sirius
was only interested in those that made mention of Hogwarts. He needed to finish filling out
the map, after all.

There was another, smaller pile of spellbooks beside him. He was hoping to find a better
method for tracking people on the map — adding each dot by hand was a pain. It would be
nice if the map could keep track of people on its own.

"What are you doing over there?" asked Regulus. He was well into his fourth hour of
working on the painting and was starting to look a little feverish.

"Nothing." Sirius turned a page in Unravelling the Unknown. "Hey, did you know the
entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is supposed to be hidden in a bathroom? According to
whoever wrote this, anyway." He flipped the book over to check the cover. "Eridanus Black,
it says. He was a great-great-uncle of ours, wasn't he?"

"Interesting," said Regulus, not sounding interested at all.

"Great-Uncle Eridanus is wrong, though," said Sirius. " 'Cause I've been in all the bathrooms,
and I've never seen anything resembling a great door containing forgotten horrors." He
perked up a little. "Reckon the entrance is in one of your loos, in the Slytherin common
room?"

"It's possible. I'll let you know if any Hydra crawl out of the toilet."

Sirius grinned. "Cheers, Reg."

Sometime later, after Sirius had abandoned Unravelling the Unknown in favour of perusing
the pile of spellbooks, he let out a frustrated groan and flung the map across the room.

Regulus didn't so much as glance up from the painting; he was doing something very precise
with the shadows around Walburga's ears. "What now?"

"It doesn't exist," said Sirius.

"The Chamber of Secrets?"

"What?" said Sirius. "No. Merlin's tits, Reg, the Chamber was three hours ago. Try to keep
up, will you?"

"You make that difficult, you know. So what doesn't exist, then?"

"The spell I need," said Sirius. "I need a way to keep track of people, like on a sheet of
parchment. Part-humans, animals, and ghosts, too. Something impossible to fool — that can
see through disguises like Animagi or Invisibility Cloaks. And I want the spell to be self-
regulating and permanent."

Regulus' thin lips stretched into a smile. "That sounds a little more advanced than the
Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. More advanced than what you might find in the Black
family library, even."

"You see my problem. If a spell like this existed, it'd be heavily guarded by the Ministry.
They probably use something similar for the Trace."

Regulus swapped one impossibly fine brush for another that was even finer. "You're looking
for an enchantment, though. Something that can be put on a sheet of parchment. That's a little
different from the Trace."

"I guess." Sirius slid off the bed and onto the floor, reaching for the map.

"I think there might be a similarly enchanted object at Hogwarts, actually," said Regulus.

Sirius bolted upright. "Really?"

"Could be." Regulus' face was inches from the painting; he looked like he was far more
interested in whatever minuscule detail he was adding to Walburga's eyebrows.

"What you're describing sounds like the enchantment the Founders put on the Book of
Admittance and Quill of Acceptance."

"Hang on," said Sirius. "The Founders? They wrote a… what did you call it, the Book of
Admission?"

"The Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance," corrected Regulus. "Believed to
have been created by Rowena Ravenclaw. They're locked in one of Hogwarts' eastern
towers."

"Have you seen them?"

"Of course not. The tower's been locked for centuries. Only the Headmaster of Hogwarts is
allowed to enter."

Sirius took that as a personal challenge. "So what do this Book and Quill do?"

"They've been enchanted to track and record the names of prospective Hogwarts students all
on their own. Every magical child in Britain is recorded in the Book. It's been going on for
centuries."

"What the — how do you know about all this? How have I never heard of this famous book
and quill?"

Regulus sighed. "Have you honestly never read Hogwarts: A History?"

"No, because I'm not a complete prat. I can get around the castle just fine without Bathilda
Bagshot holding my hand."

"I'm not a prat," said Regulus defensively. "There are loads of copies all over the prefects'
office. It's a useful primer for first years."

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. "And for perusing when Chester Fernsby starts droning on
about prohibited joke items?"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "My point is, the foreword was written by Armando Dippet. He
describes the book and quill — using them as a metaphor."
"Let me guess," said Sirius. "Something about how, just like the quill marks the pages of the
book, every student leaves their mark on Hogwarts' legacy."

Regulus looked defensive. "It's quite well-written, actually."

"Sounds like it," said Sirius, yawning loudly. "Well, thanks, Reg. Stay away from the eastern
towers while you're patrolling next term, alright?"

"You — you're not planning on —"

"I most certainly am." Sirius swept the collection of books into his arms and opened the door
to the room. "Cheers, Reg. Thanks for your help."

On Saturday evening, Sirius was sprawled on Regulus' bed, as usual, when Regulus set down
his paintbrush. Sirius glanced up from the book on motorcycle maintenance he'd been
reading, slightly alarmed. Recently, Regulus only stopped painting when forced. "What?"

"It's finished," said Regulus, his expression dazed as he stared at the portrait. "I really — I
really think it's finished."

Sirius shoved his book under a pillow, while Regulus summoned Kreacher to tell him the
news. Kreacher took one look at the painting and began to cry with joy. Tears streaming
down his cheeks, he vanished with a pop, only to return minutes later with Walburga Black.
She was holding an ornate jewellery case that appeared to have been carved from bone.

She stared reverently at the painting of herself. "It is beautiful. And just in time for the family
dinner."

Regulus dipped his head a bit in acknowledgement, his dark fringe falling over his eyes. "You
are beautiful, Mother."

"You have done very well, my son." Walburga lifted an arm. Sirius thought she was going to
pull Regulus into an embrace, but she touched the painting instead, running her finger down
the portrait's bare neck and collarbone. The painted Walburga remained pale and still, like a
Muggle painting, unresponsive to her touch.

"It still needs enchanting," said Regulus quickly. He sounded like he was trying to head off
any criticism.

"We shall do it now," said Walburga. Her arm fell to her side, and she placed the ivory
jewellery box gently on Regulus' desk.

When she spoke again, her tone was sharp. "Sirius."

Sirius gave a little start. He'd thought they'd forgotten he was there. "Yes, Mum?"

"Leave the room. Take Kreacher with you."

She wasn't looking at him; her eyes were fixed on the jewellery box. Regulus, clearly
uncomfortable, tilted his head towards the door, indicating that Sirius should go.
"Alright," said Sirius. "Come on, Kreacher."

The house-elf eyed Sirius suspiciously but followed him out of the room. The door swung
shut behind them, locking itself with a clicking sound.

Sirius crossed his arms and leaned against the bannister. "Why'd they throw us out?" he asked
Kreacher.

"Mistress needs her privacy," croaked Kreacher.

"Yeah, but to enchant the portrait to move? That's not exactly a complicated process, I've
seen Regulus do it loads in that old sketchbook of his…" Sirius trailed off.

Kreacher wasn't listening; the house-elf slowly descended the stairs without waiting for him
to follow.

Walburga did not emerge from Regulus' room for the rest of the evening. As Sirius lay in bed
that night, he could hear all sorts of sounds coming from Regulus' room, from the occasional
bang to what sounded like murmurs. Once, he thought he heard a scream.

When it was past midnight, he crept across the hall and pressed his ear to Regulus' door, but
it was no use. It seemed like the closer he got, the less he could hear. Sirius was certain of
one thing — whatever they were doing, it wasn't one of the usual charms to make the portrait
move.

The next morning, Sirius woke early. The door to Regulus' room was still locked, so he
waited outside until Kreacher shuffled past and shooed him away. Undeterred, Sirius snuck
into the large, Victorian-style bathroom he and Regulus shared. He lowered himself into the
empty tub, fully clothed, and waited, tapping his feet against the tub.

Eventually, the door to the bathroom opened, and Sirius heard soft footsteps as Regulus
padded over to the sink. The faucet squeaked as he turned it, and the sound of running water
filled the bathroom.

Sirius sat up in the tub. "What happened last night?"

Regulus jumped. There was a clatter as he dropped toothbrush into the sink. "You — What in
Merlin's name… Have you been hiding in the tub?"

"Mum and Kreacher are trying to keep us apart," explained Sirius. "D'you think it has
something to do with whatever ritual you performed last night?"

Regulus blanched. "How'd you know there was a ritual?"

"Usually when I'm left out of a family activity, it's because there's Dark magic involved. Am I
wrong?"

Regulus wet his toothbrush and began to brush his teeth. "I'm not allowed to tell you," he
mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste.
"It has to do with the portrait though, doesn't it?"

Regulus muttered something that sounded like "maybe".

"I swear, I'm going to murder Mum," said Sirius. "Making you paint a portrait of her just so
she can use it for her own twisted ends… That hag —"

Someone rapped sharply on the door. "Master Regulus!" called Kreacher. "Is Master Regulus
speaking to his brother?"

Sirius laid back down in the tub. "Tell him I'm not here."

"Master Orion is needing help with the ledger!" said Kreacher shrilly. "Master Regulus'
brother must go at once!"

"Is he refusing to say my name, now?" asked Sirius. "I'm not that much of a disappointment,
am I?"

Regulus spit into the sink and turned to Sirius, grimacing. "You'd better go."

Sirius flung open the bathroom door. He pushed Kreacher roughly aside as he stormed past,
nearly flinging him to the floor.

"The brother is trying to hurt Kreacher," muttered the house-elf as he steadied himself. "The
brother is angry, oh yes, but Kreacher is nimble, Kreacher is getting out of the way…"

"Lock yourself in the broom closet, house-elf," snapped Sirius.

Kreacher shot him a look of deep dislike, but he couldn't disobey a direct order, and he
vanished with a crack.

Sirius was so determined to continue his conversation with Regulus that he managed to
update the ledger in record time. "Right, that's finished," he announced, closing the thick,
leather-bound book. "If you don't need anything else…"

"I believe your mother could use some help with the floral arrangements downstairs," said
Orion Black smoothly. "Why don't you lend her a hand?"

After the decorative flowers were arranged to his mother's liking, Sirius sprinted up to
Regulus' room before she could give him another task to complete. Regulus' room was
unlocked, but no-one was inside; it turned out that he and Kreacher had gone to Knockturn
Alley to purchase some prime cuts of Mooncalf meat for dinner.

When Regulus and Kreacher returned, Sirius was expected to help them prepare the meat.
Walburga supervised their work; though she sat quietly at the table, embroidering her doily,
her presence ensured that Sirius would have no opportunity to speak to Regulus privately.

As the afternoon grew late, the kitchen filled with the smell of sizzling meat. Between the
warmth of the oven and Walburga's watchful eye, the room grew so stifling that Sirius began
to feel like he was the one being roasted alive.
He didn't get another chance to talk freely to Regulus, and by the time the guests began to
arrive for dinner, it was too late to talk at all.

Cygnus Black was the first to arrive, trailed by his wife, Druella, and two of his three
daughters. They were still pretending Andromeda didn't exist, Sirius supposed. Sirius allowed
Narcissa to kiss him primly on the cheek, but he refused to even acknowledge Bellatrix's
presence.

Bella, who was taller and more feral than ever, didn't seem put out by this in the least; in fact,
she was also perfectly content to pretend that Sirius didn't exist, and spent most of the dinner
whispering conspiratorially into Regulus' ear.

Uncle Alphard didn't arrive until it was time for pudding, and if he noticed the strained smiles
on Orion and Walburga's faces, he didn't show it. He kissed Walburga's hand, bowing low,
and Sirius raised an eyebrow. Uncle Alphard played the part of a doting brother well; there
was no trace of the man who had ruthlessly tallied up Orion and Walburga's life expectancy.
Ten more years, thought Sirius.

After everyone had had their fill of pudding, Walburga rose from her seat, wine glass in hand.
She wore the same deep green robes as her portrait, and even her hair had been done up to
match.

"A toast," she said, "to my son." She turned benevolently towards Regulus, leaving no doubt
as to which son she was speaking of. "He has painted a portrait of me, following the tradition
of our family. Even when I am gone, my likeness will remain in Grimmauld Place, watching
over our ancestral home."

Kreacher entered the dining room, carrying the cloth-covered painting. Sirius, alarmed at the
thought of a portrait of his mum hanging permanently in Grimmauld Place, tried
unsuccessfully to catch Uncle Alphard's attention.

"The portrait of the Mistress," croaked Kreacher. He set the painting on a wooden stand and
removed the cloth with a flourish. Bella and Narcissa ooh-ed at the painting's reveal, while
the adults clapped politely. Even Uncle Alphard nodded, looking impressed.

The portrait of Walburga Black lifted a graceful hand, acknowledging the applause. A
pendant in the shape of a raven's skull hung from her neck. Engraved into the forehead of the
skull were the words Toujours Pur.

Sirius squinted at the portrait, confused. The painting hadn't been wearing a necklace before,
had it? Not to mention his mum — his real, flesh-and-blood mum — wasn't wearing any
jewellery, though she and the portrait were dressed alike in every other way.

Narcissa nudged his side, and he realised he'd stopped clapping. He made a face at her and
began to applaud with more enthusiasm. Across the table, Regulus wouldn't meet his eyes.

As Kreacher cleared the plates from the table, the adults fell into a deeply boring
conversation about politics. Bella and Regulus vanished up the stairs, and Narcissa excused
herself to peruse the library. Sirius tried to listen to the conversation, figuring that was his
duty as heir, but he soon found himself yawning and rubbing his eyes. He really hadn't gotten
much sleep the night before, and his family was making even the activities of a Dark Lord
sound dull.

A hand landed on Sirius' shoulder and his head jerked up. "'M awake," he said immediately.

"I'm sure you are," said Uncle Alphard, looking amused. "I was hoping you'd show me
around your father's study. I'd like to see what he's taught you."

"Er," said Sirius with a reflexive glance at his father. "Can I?"

Orion nodded. "I think you'll be impressed, Alphard. Sirius has quite the keen mind — when
he applies himself, that is."

Sirius winced at the jab, but he allowed Uncle Alphard to lead him up the stairs and into his
father's study. As he performed the countercurses on Orion's desk — his father kept the
ledgers under heavy protection — the air around him suddenly felt heavier, as if they were
underwater water.

He glanced at Uncle Alphard, who was tucking his wand back into his robes. "Privacy
charms?"

"Only the most basic," replied Uncle Alphard. "I estimate we have five minutes before the
countercharms your father has placed on his study take effect."

"Alright," said Sirius, somewhat nonplussed. He pulled the ledgers out of the top drawer of
the desk and began to rifle through them. "Well, we've been focusing on businesses in
Knockturn Alley this week, so here're the accounts for Moribund's, if you'd like a look.
Blordak at Gringotts has been giving us the run-around… This one's got stuff about Potage's
Cauldron Shop in it, we just acquired a share there recently —"

"Sirius." Uncle Alphard sounded amused. "Do you really think I care about your father's
investments?"

Sirius paused, and then levelled an accusing gaze at his uncle. "You should care. Some of our
gold is going straight to the Death Eaters. At least twenty per cent of what we've put into
Moribund's, I reckon, and that cauldron shop seems dodgy, too —"

"Potage's is one of ours," said Uncle Alphard. "The Order's, that is. Don't look too closely at
it, lest your father grow suspicious as well. Though I will admit that the investments into
Moribund's are… unfortunate, but unavoidable. At least for the time being."

"Unfortunate?" said Sirius. "I'd rate funnelling Galleons directly into the pockets of the Dark
Lord a little higher than unfortunate."

"Eventually, less and less will go to the Death Eaters, and more will go to our cause," said
Uncle Alphard. "But we have to start slowly. Convince your father to support the newly
opened Herborium instead of Moribund's Apothecary. I don't know if you noticed, but over
dinner I planted the seed in his mind that the Herborium is aiding Walden Macnair in his
effort to amass a part-human army. An utter falsehood, of course — the Herborium is owned
by the Fortescues, and they're as good as they come. But one must do what it takes."

"Erm," said Sirius, "sure. The Herborium. Got it."

"On to my next point," said Uncle Alphard. "We are going to have to change our plans. Did
you notice the necklace the portrait of your mother was wearing?"

"Yeah, I did, actually," said Sirius. "Not sure where that came from, to be honest. I saw the
finished portrait last night, and I don't think it was there. I think I would've remembered if
Regulus spent hours labouring to include a huge eyesore like that. Unless he added it in
overnight…"

Uncle Alphard shook his head. "That pendant was not mere brush strokes and canvas. There
is a spell, invented by our ancestor Harfang Black, which allows a person —"

"—to conceal things in a painting," finished Sirius. "I know. I've seen Regulus use it before."

Uncle Alphard's expression was grim. "I recognised the pendant at once. It is a family
heirloom, and an exceedingly dangerous one at that."

"Dangerous how?"

"It's a phylactery." Uncle Alphard paused. He looked expectantly at Sirius, as if expecting

him to gasp in horror.

"Alright," said Sirius after a moment. "You're going to have to back up a bit. Not all of us
Blacks spend our free time looking up Dark Magic in the family library, you know."

Uncle Alphard's lips pressed into a line, and he closed his eyes. "A phylactery," he said, "is a
storage vessel for the soul. There is a ritual — do not ask me to describe it, it is Dark — that
allows a person to store away a piece of their soul inside the phylactery, as if for safe-
keeping. If such a person were to die, that piece of soul would remain tethered to this earth. It
is powerful magic — a phylactery can influence on its surroundings for centuries after the
death of its master."

"Fuck," said Sirius. He ignored Uncle Alphard's disapproving frown. It wasn't his problem if
his uncle couldn't handle a Muggle swear. "So she's hidden a cursed necklace inside her
portrait? To make herself immortal?" That was definitely going to mess up his ten-year plan.

"Not quite," said Uncle Alphard. "The reality is more subtle than that. When she dies, her
body will be gone forever. But the fragment of her soul that lives on in that painting will
continue to carry out her wishes. Up to and including a resurrection ritual, if she so desires.
But I do not think she will go down that path."

"Why not?" asked Sirius. "If it's an available option…"

"She is my sister," said Uncle Alphard. "I know things about her that you do not. Her
upbringing was a difficult one, and it has left her jaded and bitterly unhappy. I do not think
she wishes to prolong such a life indefinitely."
"Then why would she put a part of her soul in this pendant thing?"

"To keep an eye on her sons, I expect," said Uncle Alphard.

Sirius recoiled. "You're joking."

"Nothing is more important to her than family," said Uncle Alphard. "Cygnus has had only
daughters, to his shame, so you and Regulus will be the last to carry the Black family name. I
expect she wishes to continue to guide you, even after she has passed."

"Not a chance," said Sirius. "As soon as her ten years are up, I'm slipping aconite into her tea
and setting that painting on fire. Soul fragment, my arse."

Uncle Alphard inclined his head. "That is what I mean by a change in plans. Your route to
inheritance may be complicated by her phylactery. But rest assured — after she passes, I will
do what I can to help you destroy it, if we haven't been able to rid ourselves of it sooner."

That didn't sound particularly promising. "Er, thanks," said Sirius. "I feel very reassured
now."

Uncle Alphard's lips curved into a smile beneath his salt-and-pepper beard.

The air in Sirius' lungs felt slightly less damp, and he sensed that the privacy charms were
beginning to lift. "How's Dorcas, by the way?" he asked, hoping they hadn't run out of time.

"She's still alive, if that's what you're asking," said Uncle Alphard. "Doing well for herself,
too. I don't know if you saw the news in the Prophet about the disappearance of the Bones
family?"

"Er, I think my friend Remus might've mentioned something about that."

"Well, we know exactly where the Bones family is. Dorcas was the one who got them out of
London — hid them in some Muggle village in Kent. She's very capable."

"Good," said Sirius. "Think she could help us destroy a cursed necklace?"

Uncle Alphard chuckled. "I wouldn't put it past her." He licked a finger and raised it into the
air, as if testing the wind. "It seems the privacy charms have lost their effectiveness. Let's
return downstairs, shall we? I believe Kreacher is preparing another round of drinks."

"Yeah, well, I'm not in the mood," muttered Sirius as he stuffed the ledgers back into his
father's desk. The thought of his mother's soul lingering in Grimmauld Place was making him
feel ill.

Uncle Alphard stopped him just before they left the study. "You are doing very well, Sirius.
Your father may not show it, but he is quite pleased with you. Do you know that?"

Sirius shrugged. "I think a piece of my soul dies every day I spend here."
"Patience," said Uncle Alphard. "You will not be under your parents' thumb forever." He
drew Sirius into a brief, one-armed hug. "You aid the Order more than you know. I am proud
of you."

Lily was eating breakfast when a rumpled-looking owl tapped on the kitchen window with a
talon. In its beak was a letter from Healer Fenwick.

Lily,

If you're feeling bored during your Easter holidays, why don't you give me a hand in the
Artefact Accidents ward? We've got a few cases I think you'd find interesting. I've enclosed a
Portkey — it'll take you to the ground floor of St Mungo's.

See you soon,

Benjy Fenwick

Barely thirty minutes later, Lily appeared in the lobby of St Mungo's. Feeling rather nauseous
from the Portkey, she forced herself to take several deep breaths as she pushed through the
doors that led to the Artefact Accidents ward.

The ward was nearly as large as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, though it was lined with beds
instead of four long tables. Nearly every bed was already occupied, and the air hummed with
activity as Mediwizards bustled about. Some Healers were barking orders to orderlies who
scribbled on clipboards; in one corner, a circle of Mediwizards had surrounded one of the
beds and were casting a complicated countercurse.

"Lily Evans!" exclaimed Healer Fenwick, loping towards her. Sweat plastered his hair to his
large forehead, and it was a bit odd to see him dressed in emerald Healer's robes instead of
his protective spacesuit. He was breathing hard, as if he'd just run a marathon, yet his smile
was jubilant. "Excellent timing, there's been a cauldron explosion in a Muggle pub. We've
just finished stabilising one victim, but there's another on the way, we're getting the bed ready
now —"

"A cauldron explosion in a Muggle pub?" asked Lily, following him as he strode down the
ward. "How is that possible?"

"Looks to be the work of Death Eaters," said Fenwick. "Easy way to kill a bunch of Muggles,
apparently. We've been seeing more and more of it, lately — they stick a few incompatible
ingredients in a cauldron and leave it lying around for the Muggles to find. It's a lucky thing
Doge was there, he was able to notify us as soon as it happened..."

"Sorry, who?" asked Lily.

"Oh, Elphias Doge," said Healer Fenwick. "An old friend of mine. He was in the area doing
some work for Dumbledore — I'd tell you more, but I think Albus wants to keep it hush-hush
for now." He winked at her.

The doors to the ward burst open and a couple of Healers marched in, pointing their wands at
an unconscious figure floating above their heads.

"That'll be the patient we've been waiting for," said Healer Fenwick, gesturing for the Healers
to come closer. They lowered their wands, depositing the patient on the bed. "Lily, would you
like to perform the initial assessment?"

Lily nodded. She pressed the tip of her wand to the patient's wrist, casting a spell to check the
state of his humours. "Too much black bile, not enough blood," she said. Why didn't he have
enough blood?

She leaned closer, trying to get a better look at the patient. He was a smartly-dressed man in
his sixties, though his suit was torn.

"He's bleeding," she said, noticing a dark stain that had blossomed on his side.

"The first rule of Healing," said Healer Fenwick. "Air goes in and out, and blood goes round
and round. Any variation on this is bad." He spoke lightly, but his movements were focused,
intentional; as he spoke, he drew his wand and Summoned a tray of various potions. "What's
our next step?"

"We have to stop the bleeding to balance his humours," said Lily. "He may need a
replenishment."

An orderly was already at her side, Vanishing the man's suit. Together, she and Lily closed
the wound on the man's side while Healer Fenwick mixed a few potions together.

"Blood-Replenishing Potion," said Healer Fenwick, handing a phial full of dark red liquid to
Lily. She poured the potion down the man's throat, and Healer Fenwick handed her another.

Lily hesitated as she took the second phial. "One dose should be enough, I think," she said.
"He's a Muggle — he might not be able to tolerate another potion. If we give him too much,
we'll scorch his veins."

"Good girl," said Healer Fenwick, pleased. "Keep that one for yourself, then. It's always
useful to carry your own potions set, in case of an emergency."

Lily slipped the phial into her robes. As soon as the Muggle man had been stabilised, she and
Healer Fenwick moved on to their next case: a witch who had lost a hand after her wand had
backfired. After that, they took care of an eleven-year-old boy who Lily vaguely recognised
as being a first year in Ravenclaw; he'd taken his older brother's broomstick for a ride and
had broken a wrist.

After a few hours on the ward, Lily understood why Healer Fenwick had been out of breath
when he had greeted her. The work was exhausting, yet varied and rewarding at the same
time. It was much more hands-on than her apprenticeship in the Camille Grenoille Ward had
been.

"What's going to become of our first patient?" she asked at the end of their shift. "The
Muggle man?"

"Oh, he'll make a full recovery, I expect," said Healer Fenwick jauntily.

"But he won't…" Lily hesitated. "He won't be allowed to remember what happened, will he?"

"Ah," said Healer Fenwick. "No, unfortunately. They'll have to Obliviate him before he's
released from St Mungo's."

Lily sighed. "I was afraid of that." She understood wizarding Britain's need for secrecy, but
she didn't much like the idea of scrambling an innocent man's brains.

Healer Fenwick pulled off his emerald robes and handed them to an orderly. To Lily's
surprise, he was wearing a collared shirt and trousers underneath, the sort a Muggle might
wear.

He noticed her surprise and winked at her. "I'm moonlighting at the local Muggle hospital
after this — need to keep those physician skills sharp, you know. Plus Doge heard the Death
Eaters might try something in the A&E department, so I'll be there as a lookout, too."

Lily tried to remain nonchalant. Healer Fenwick was so cool. A dual-trained Healer who was
helping Dumbledore fight the Death Eaters? She couldn't tell if she was in love with him or if
she simply wanted to be him. If only he were thirty years younger, she thought.

Lily spent the remainder of her Easter holidays alternating between reading, helping Healer
Fenwick at St Mungo's, and daydreaming about finding Sally Dearborn.

She wasn't sure exactly how she was going to find Sally Dearborn, but she was certain she
could make it happen. Healer Fenwick was doing his part to fight the Death Eaters; finding
Sally was how Lily could contribute, too.

She had a single new lead: Isadora Pimentel had seen Avery with Sally the night she
disappeared. So she needed to find out more about what Avery had been doing that night.
Regulus had refused to help her, and that was fine; disappointing, but fine. Because there was
still one other Slytherin she could speak to, as loathe as she was to do it.

Severus Snape, her former best friend.

She didn't want Severus to think she had forgiven him, or that she wanted to be mates again.
He needed to know this was purely an informational exchange. She hadn't bothered trying to
talk to him at Hogwarts — he would have spent the entire time denying everything while
looking nervously over his shoulder for Mulciber. She'd had enough of that dynamic the
previous year.

But they were home for the Easter holidays now. He was back in Cokeworth, where she had
the upper hand. There were no witches or wizards to eavesdrop, and they had no childhood
friends from Muggle primary school to join the conversation. Here in Cokeworth, it had
always been Severus and Lily against the world, ever since they'd met and he'd told her she
was magic.

She liked that dynamic. She could use it to her advantage.

Lily began to take long afternoon strolls through Cokeworth, hoping to catch Severus at the
post office or the grocer's, running errands for his mum. But her efforts were fruitless; she
didn't catch so much as a glimpse of his stringy black hair. She began to suspect that Severus
was purposefully holed up inside his house.

So she extended her afternoon walks to include grimy Spinner's End, where Severus lived.
She tried whistling every time she passed his house, hoping he would hear. Once, she feigned
an entire conversation with an imaginary Petunia, pretending to be arguing loudly.

Nothing worked. No signs of life stirred in the house on Spinner's End: its interior remained
dark, and nobody came or went.

On the last day of the Easter holidays, Lily decided that, unfortunately, she would have to be
a little more proactive. That evening, she carefully lifted the latch on her bedroom window
once she was certain Petunia had gone to bed. Somewhere downstairs, her mum was still
awake, though that didn't concern her as much. Lily was far more afraid of Petunia's reaction
if she caught her sneaking out.

She climbed out the window and carefully lowered herself off the roof, dropping into the
front garden. She followed the river to Spinner's End, past rows of abandoned shops and
brick houses that became progressively more battered-looking.

There was something about Severus' grimy little house that reminded Lily of the Shrieking
Shack; both had shuttered windows and weeds springing up where they shouldn't be. As she
crept around to the back of the house, she saw a dim light coming from Severus' room.

She put her hand on her wand in the pocket of her jeans, steeling herself. She'd turned
seventeen in January, so she was technically allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts, but
she didn't have an Apparition license yet. She hadn't dared Apparate directly from her house
to Severus' — suppose Apparating inside a Muggle residence wasn't allowed? She didn't
know if the Ministry could trace Apparition the same way they did underage magic, but she
wasn't about to take any chances.

She knew the Snape house wasn't Traced, though, since Severus' mum was a witch. Severus
had always been able to do all sorts of magic at home without ever being reprimanded by the
Ministry. She could Apparate into Severus' house from the back garden, and the Ministry
wouldn't be the wiser.
Taking a breath, she turned on her heel — destination, determination, deliberation — and
Apparated, as quietly as she could, directly into Severus' bedroom.

He was hunched over at the edge of his bed, scribbling furiously into his Potions textbook.
He glanced up at her and gave an enormous start; his book clattered to the floor. As he
scrambled away from her, he knocked over his inkwell, spilling pools of black ink onto his
threadbare sheets.

"Sev." Lily held up her hands. "Relax. It's just me."

"It — you…" Severus stuttered, his face white. "You… Did — the mirror…?"

Lily frowned. She'd expected Severus to be surprised to see her, but this was a bit much.
"What are you on about?"

Severus blinked, then sat up a little, squinting at her. "It's really you."

"Clearly," said Lily stiffly. "Who else would it be? My evil twin?"

"Something like that," said Severus. He looked at the puddle of ink on his sheets, grimacing.
He reached for his wand, which was lying on the floor.

Lily beat him to it. "Scourgify," she said, and the ink vanished from Severus' sheets. "Sorry
about that. Didn't mean to startle you."

"Don't —" Severus groaned. "That — that was the last of my ink."

Right. He was poor. Lily felt a fleeting moment of guilt, which she buried. It wasn't her fault
he'd overreacted. "Looks like you'll have to buy some more, then."

"Indeed." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I'll just wear my robes lined with Galleons
to Flourish and Blotts tomorrow."

He was angry because she wasn't taking pity on him. Well. Let him be angry. "I'm sure you'll
figure something out."

His eyes narrowed. "What's the point of this? Why did you Apparate into my room in the
middle of the night?"

"Well, I would've met you in Cokeworth, but you never leave your house."

"Yes, I do," said Severus, but he looked away from her as he spoke.

"You don't. But I didn't come here to argue. We need to talk."

"About what?"

Lily pointed her wand at the door. "Muffliato."

Severus' black eyes glittered. "So you still use my spells?"

"Don't flatter yourself. The whole school uses your spells."

The chill in her voice was not lost on Severus. "Why have you come, Lily?"

She met his gaze, trying to keep her expression neutral. "Do you know what happened to
Sally Dearborn?"

For the second time that night, Severus seemed genuinely surprised. He regarded her
cautiously, heavy brow furrowed, before speaking. "I don't. Why?"

"That gang of yours," she said. "The Death Eaters."

"We're not Death Eaters."

"Not yet."

Severus' mouth twisted, as if he were about to spit out a scathing rebuttal, but nothing came
out. At last, he said, "What about them?"

So he wasn't denying it. That was an improvement, she supposed. At least he was being
honest. "I think they had something to do with her disappearance."

"Obviously." He drew each syllable out so long that she was tempted to hex him. There was
no need to be so condescending.

Lily crossed her arms. "So?"

"So what?"

"You need to tell me what happened to her. It's important. Important enough for me to come
here in the middle of the night."

Severus picked his Potions textbook off the floor and smoothed out its pages. "I can't tell you
what happened, because I don't know, either. As much as it pains me to admit that."

Lily stared at him incredulously. He wasn't dancing around the topic like he usually did when
lying. "You really don't know what happened to her?"

Severus shook his head. "I agree with your assessment. It seems most probable that someone
in… my gang, as you call them, had a hand in her murder."

"Murder!"

Severus gave her the same look he used to use when she failed to grasp an advanced concept
in Potions on the first try. "Of course she was murdered."

"But there's no proof of that at all!" protested Lily. Severus continued to stare at her with that
disbelieving expression, and she relented. "I mean… I'll admit it's possible, but she could be,
I dunno, held somewhere against her will, or something."
Severus snorted derisively. "She's not alive. There are a myriad of spells that can be used to
find a living person. I'm sure Dumbledore knows them all, yet he's found nothing."

"But Dumbledore might not tell us if he did find something. Some people think there's a
conspiracy between him and Caradoc Dearborn to keep Sally safe."

"Do you actually believe that?"

Lily sighed. "Honestly… I don't think so. Did you notice, during the feast at the start of our
second term, when he called Sally a —"

"…sacrifice," finished Severus. They stared at each other.

"You actually don't know what happened to her," said Lily, amazed.

"I don't. I wish I did. You're trying to figure it out, too?"

"Yeah," she said. "Why're… why do you care what happened to her?"

"Are you trying to determine whether I'm trying to find her and finish what my Death Eater
friends started?"

Lily's eyes widened. The thought hadn't even occurred to her. "Oh, God. You're not —"

"Calm down." Severus looked vaguely amused. "Of course not. I'm simply curious about
what happened to her. That's all."

He sounded… honest. And it certainly wouldn't be the first time his curiosity led him to poke
his nose where it didn't belong. Could he actually be telling the truth?

"Are you going to ask about my motivations?" said Lily.

"Of course not," said Severus. "I assume you believe that finding Sally is the right thing to
do. And since nobody else seems to care, you've made it into a personal crusade."

Damn. Was she really that predictable?

"More or less," admitted Lily. She realised she was still standing in the middle of the room
with her arms crossed, so she decided to sit beside Severus on the bed. As long as he was
being civil, she could be too.

Severus' shoulders tightened as she sat down, but he gave no other indication that she'd just
done something that even ten minutes ago had been unthinkable. "Well. If you've come to
compare notes, you're going to be disappointed, I'm afraid. I've got proof that none of my so-
called gang were involved in her disappearance, as hard as that may be to believe."

"Proof?" asked Lily. "What proof have you found?"

Severus glanced between her and his Potions book several times. He seemed to be debating
something internally. Finally, he said, "It has to do with mind magic."
"There's no such thing as mind magic," said Lily immediately. That had been one of the first
things she had asked Severus about upon learning she was a witch. "You told me it's
impossible to read people's thoughts."

"Yes," said Severus sardonically, "because that is what I believed when I was nine years old.
The truth is somewhat more nuanced, it turns out."

"Nuanced how?"

"It is impossible to peruse another's thoughts like a book," said Severus. "But there are ways
of… getting the gist of things. Memories. Emotions. Ruminations. All can be accessed,
though not easily interpreted."

Lily's jaw dropped. "You've read the minds of your mates? To see if they killed Sally or not?"

"It is not Muggle mind-reading," snapped Severus. "As I have already said."

Well, that distinction was certainly lost on Lily. "Erm, alright," she said. "So you, erm, used
mind magic to figure out that your mates are innocent."

"It certainly looks that way."

"What about Obliviation, though?" asked Lily, thinking about the Muggle man she had
Healed at St Mungo's. "Is your mind magic still reliable if they've been made to forget
something?"

Severus stared at her. "It… It is possible. I had not thought of that." He reached for his quill,
as if to jot something down, before seeming to remember that he no longer had any ink.

"Lucky you," said Lily sarcastically. "Some of us think about Obliviation every day, you
know. Because we have family members that could be Obliviated for something as small as a
slip of the tongue at the post office."

"I come from Muggles, too," muttered Severus. "Obliviating Tobias might be an
improvement." He turned the quill over in his hands. Lily almost felt a little sorry for him.

Well. She certainly couldn't have that. It wasn't like they were friends. She'd ask the question
she came here for, and then she'd be on her way, before he tested her boundaries. "Did you
use your mind-reading — mind magic, sorry — on Edmund Avery?"

"I did. Why?"

"And he was innocent?"

"As far as I could tell," said Severus. "Why?"

Lily shrugged. "Just checking names off my list." They might have the same goals, but she
wasn't about to give up her only lead to an admitted Death Eater in-training.
Severus' eyes narrowed, and Lily's heart began to thrum in her chest. He'd noticed something
was off. "And Mulciber?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"Innocent," replied Severus. "So it would seem. Lily, if there's anything else —"

"There isn't. I've got no idea what happened to Sally, same as you." She stood up from the
bed and adjusted her shirt. "I should be going, let you get your rest —"

"Lily," said Severus. "We can work together on this. Look at me."

She met his gaze only for a moment; the intensity in his black eyes scared her. "I don't want
to work with you."

Severus stood. In an instant, he'd crossed the room and grabbed her by the arms. "I told you
what I know. It's only fair. What have you found out?"

His eyes were strangely bright. Mind magic, she thought. But he couldn't cast without a
wand, could he?

"You have three seconds to let go of me," said Lily. She needed to get out before he
discovered what she knew. She wouldn't let him take it from her. "One."

"Avery," said Severus. "You asked something about Avery. What was it?"

"Two."

He was still touching her. Her hand edged towards the wand in her back pocket. "Three."

She turned on her heel, wrenching away from him. His hands tightened around her arms,
trying to keep her in place, but it was useless: with a deafening crack, her body was overcome
with the sensation of being squeezed through a straw. A strange, sharp pain shot through her
left foot, but she didn't have time to dwell on it before she Disapparated.

When she reappeared in her bedroom, she knew immediately that she had made three large
mistakes. The first was that she was missing most of the little toe on her left foot, which she
discovered after removing her blood-soaked trainer. The second mistake was that her sloppy
Apparition had woken both her mum and Petunia.

The third, most damning mistake, swooped in via owl the next morning. It took the form of a
letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office, informing her that she was due in front of the
Wizengamot on the twenty-first of June for her use of unauthorised Apparition in a Muggle
residence, and was signed by Mafalda Hopkirk.
 The Missing Memory

"I'm going to be expelled, right?" Lily asked Marlene. She'd barely managed to keep the
letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office hidden from her mum and Petunia. As soon as
she had returned to Hogwarts, though, she'd pulled Marlene aside in their dormitory to show
her the letter.

Marlene's eyes darted over the crisp parchment. "Expelled, probably not," she said. "That
would be a bit extreme. But they might snap your wand."

That was even worse. "You're joking."

"I don't think it'll happen," said Marlene, placing the letter back in its envelope. "But you
should be prepared for the possibility. Hagrid keeps his wand in that umbrella of his —
maybe you should start carrying around a parasol, just in case."

Lily couldn't breathe. "But — that doesn't make sense! It's not like I whipped out my wand in
front of my extended Muggle family. All I did was Apparate, for God's sake. I didn't hurt
anyone."

Marlene raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Lily's left foot, which was still missing its
little toe.

"Except myself," amended Lily. She made a mental note to see if Madam Pomfrey could
repair her Splinched foot.

Marlene looked thoughtful. "It’s interesting — you’re of age, so the Ministry can’t be upset
that you did magic in Cokeworth. Seems like they’re more concerned that you Apparated
without a license. But they normally send a warning letter before jumping straight to a
hearing.”

"That figures," said Lily. "My first time doing magic outside of Hogwarts, and they're going
to snap my wand." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "Hang on. Potter and Black did
loads of underage magic outside of school, didn’t they? Why haven't they ever had a
hearing?" Surely the Ministry should have snapped Potter's wand several times over by now.

"Come on, Lil," said Marlene. "You already know why, don't you?"

Lily wanted to scream. She settled for flopping angrily onto her bed. "Blood status."

"Exactly," said Marlene. "The Ministry is desperate to prove that Muggle-borns can be
productive members of wizarding Britain. They have to make an example of you. Imagine
what You-Know-Who's supporters would have said if the Ministry had let you off with a
warning."

"Probably something about Muggle-borns having no respect for wizarding laws," muttered
Lily.
"You see?" said Marlene. "The hearing gives the Ministry the appearance of coming down
hard on Muggle-borns, which appeases You-Know-Who's followers. It'll probably be just for
show, though — I doubt they'd actually snap your wand. You'll probably end up with a fine."

That didn't make Lily feel any better. "Brilliant. A fine. I'll just withdraw some gold from my
family's Gringotts account — oh, wait."

"Don't worry about that," said Marlene. "Seriously. If you need Galleons, I'll gladly help you
out." She looked suddenly thoughtful. "Do you mind if I talk to my dad about this whole
hearing thing? He works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he might have
some advice for you."

Lily sighed. She really didn't want news of her upcoming hearing to spread. "That's fine. But
don't tell anyone else, alright?"

After classes that evening, Lily arrived early at the hospital wing for her apprenticeship. To
her relief, the infirmary was empty.

Madam Pomfrey looked up from the potions she was shelving, surprised. "Lily. I wasn't
expecting you for another half an hour."

"Thought I'd come a little early," said Lily, "I, erm, seem to have a bit of a… medical
problem. Bit of a sensitive subject. I was hoping you could fix it."

Madam Pomfrey's demeanour changed completely; looking suddenly concerned, she gestured
for Lily to sit down on the nearest bed,. "Of course, dear, of course," she said gently. She ran
her wand over Lily's wrist to check her humours and clicked her tongue at the results.
"Yellow bile, with a touch of blood… just as I expected. Forgive me, Lily — I should have
gone over this topic with you sooner. Foolish of me to think that because you are young,
there was no rush…" She shook her head, seeming disappointed in herself.

"It's really quite alright," said Lily, hoping to reassure her. They'd only started Apparition
lessons a few months ago, after all. How was Madam Pomfrey to know she'd Splinch herself
so quickly? "I've done it successfully a few times, but I haven't had much practice. Really
wasn't expecting something like this to happen, though… I guess I was just overconfident."

"It's not your fault," said Madam Pomfrey sternly. "I keep telling the Heads of House that we
need to educate students on this matter… Teach them about the birds and the Billywigs, you
know, so they don't experiment on their own…"

Lily blinked. "Beg your pardon?"

"It's disgraceful," continued Madam Pomfrey, who was now searching through the medicine
cabinet. "A few Heads of House agree with me, but Sprout and Slughorn are reluctant. 'Let
kids be kids', they say. As if they've forgotten what it was like to be teenaged and full of
hormones!"

Lily began to suspect that she and Madam Pomfrey were referring to two entirely different
things. "Madam Pomfrey," she said slowly, "I Splinched myself."
Madam Pomfrey stopped rummaging through the medicine cabinet at once. "You Splinched
yourself?"

"Yeah, I left one of my toes behind." Lily smiled mischievously. "What did you think I was
talking about?"

"Never — never you mind." Madam Pomfrey set a few potions back into the cabinet, looking
flustered. "A subject for another day. Let's have a look at your foot, then."

The spell for reattaching Splinched parts was surprisingly simple. Lily, who was very grateful
to have all of her toes back where they belonged, spent the rest of her shift in the hospital
wing feeling highly amused about the misunderstanding.

Her amusement vanished, however, when she read the notice that had appeared on the board
in the Gryffindor Common room. Their Apparition instructor, Wilkie Twycross, was offering
extra Apparition practice in Hogsmeade that weekend for students who were already of age.

Marlene, who wouldn't be seventeen until June, nudged her side. "Why do you look so glum?
You get to go Hogsmeade again! I'm so jealous. Zonko's has the best Stink Pellets, and it's
been ages since I've been…"

"That's not it," said Lily. She lowered her voice. "What're the chances that Twycross has
contacts in the Improper Use of Magic Office?"

"Ah." Marlene made a sympathetic face. "Quite likely, actually."

"Think he'll hold that against me?"

"Only one way to find out," said Marlene, and she wrote Lily's name on the sign-up list.
"Swing by Zonko's for me while you're there, will you? I'll pay you back."

That Saturday, those who were going to Hogsmeade for Apparition practice met in the
Entrance Hall. Instructor Twycross was waiting by the oak doors, surrounded by five Aurors
who were to escort them to the village.

It soon became clear that Instructor Twycross had heard that Lily had Apparated illegally,
and he was none too happy about it. "Lily Evans," he said, reading off the roll call.

"Present."

He trained his pale grey eyes on her. "How unexpected. I was under the impression that you
believe yourself to have already mastered the art of Apparition."

Lily's cheeks grew hot. "I guess I still have more to learn, sir."

"Indeed," said Instructor Twycross. "How's the foot?"

Lily could feel the other students staring at her. She wished she could sink into the floor and
die. "Never better."
A few girls from Slytherin snickered behind their hands; beside them was Severus, whose
heavy brow furrowed as he stared at her.

Lily turned her back pointedly and took Mary by the arm. "Distract me. Quickly."

"Er," said Mary, "do you know Priyanka Patil? She's Parvana's sister, in Hufflepuff — I heard
a rumour that she's got a date with Peter Pettigrew this weekend."

"It isn't a date," said Parvana, who had apparently overheard them. She walked next to Lily as
Instructor Twycross led them out of Hogwarts and down the winding path to Hogsmeade.
"She's already seeing Archie Bellchant, in Ravenclaw. Peter's just helping with her astrology
homework for Divination."

"Oh," said Mary, sounding disappointed. "Poor Peter. Does he know?"

Parvana glanced towards Peter, who had jumped on James' back and was hanging on for dear
life as James and Sirius raced towards Hogsmeade. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I don't
spend much time with him anymore."

That's right, thought Lily. She'd heard that Parvana and James had broken up after the match
with Hufflepuff, for which she was secretly glad. She felt much more comfortable around
Parvana now, for some reason. Probably because she was no longer afraid that she'd walk in
on Parvana and James doing stretching exercises.

"What did Twycross mean, anyway?" Parvana asked Lily. "About your foot?"

"Oh," said Lily, and she reluctantly told Parvana and Mary about what had happened over the
Easter holidays.

When she had finished, Mary was gaping at her. "A hearing? At the Ministry?"

"Shh!" said Lily, looking around. Nobody else seemed to be paying attention. James was
laughing loudly at Sirius, who was, obnoxiously, Apparating ten feet ahead of the group and
waiting for them to catch up before Apparating away again. "Don't spread it around, alright?"

"Never," said Mary. "God, that's so unfair, isn't it? Marlene does loads of magic at home, and
she's never gotten so much as an owl for it."

"I know," said Lily miserably.

Once they arrived in Hogsmeade, they were joined by even more Aurors, who had been
waiting in the Three Broomsticks. Professor Twycross gave the group of students strict
instructions: they were to stay on Hogsmeade's main street at all times and were not allowed
to Apparate past the Three Broomsticks.

Lily, Mary and Parvana went to practice by the post office. Mary had managed to Apparate
twice during lessons, but had Splinched herself both times and was developing a bit of a
phobia of Apparition as a result. While Parvana helped Mary practise her pivot, Lily tried to
Apparate from the post office to Zonko's. She overshot the mark a bit, though, and ended up
on a side street, past the Hog's Head Inn.
Considering she was out of bounds, she began to walk back to the main street, but when a
group of students emerged from the Hog's Head, she stopped in her tracks. Apparently,
Mulciber's gang were more concerned with having a pint of mead than Apparition practise.

Don't let them see me, she thought, and she turned on her heel. Without a destination in mind,
though, she merely managed to tumble into a dustbin.

Severus glanced over at the noise. His dark eyes widened at the sight of her.

Lily muttered something quite foul under her breath. He had better not try to talk to her.

Severus looked back at his mates, neither of whom had noticed her. Avery was trying to
Apparate, mug still in hand; his eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he concentrated. Mulciber
was coaching him, his back to both Severus and Lily.

Severus must have taken note of their distraction, too: he spun around and began to stride
towards her.

Lily wanted nothing to do with him. She took off, wishing her shoes didn't click so briskly
against the cobblestone street. Mulciber and Avery were bound to hear her, but Dervish and
Banges' was around the corner, if she could just make it there —

"Lily," said Severus as soon as they had turned onto Hogsmeade's main street. He was still
several feet behind her but gaining quickly.

The sign for Dervish and Banges' was swinging back and forth in the wind. Lily didn't slow
her pace. "Leave me alone."

"I just want to talk."

Lily groaned. It had been a mistake to go to his house over the holidays. She'd given him
false hope. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Why not?"

He was so close he could have grabbed her by the back of the robes. There was no point in
running further, so she stopped and turned to face him. "Because we're not mates, alright? I
might have talked to you over the holidays but I don't want to talk now."

Severus was out of breath. He pushed his lank hair away from his face. "Not even about —
about Dearborn?"

"Especially not about that."

"Why not?"

She couldn't believe she had to spell this out for him. "Because, Sev. You don't respect me."

"I — of course I respect you!" he spluttered. "Out of everyone, you're the most — of course I
do."
Lily crossed her arms. "You put your hands on me. I was going to leave and you grabbed
me."

"I'm sorry," said Severus at once. "I shouldn't have —"

"You should know better," said Lily, talking over him. "You think you have the right to put
your hands on people? What about what your dad does to your mum, is that alright, too?"

"I — I do know better. It was a mistake. I'm so —"

"That's not the worst of it," she hissed. "You tried to use your mind magic on me."

Severus went pale. "I… you knew?"

"Your eyes got all funny," she said. "It wasn't exactly subtle."

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to know —"

"—What I know? But I didn't want to tell you that. So you thought you'd take it from me?"

"No," said Severus, shaking his head. "It's not like that, it's not as invasive as you're making it
sound —"

"I don't believe that for an instant," said Lily. "Go back to your little mates. I don't want to
talk to you."

"Lily. We could work together —"

She hated the way he said her name. "Not a chance, Snivellus," she said scathingly. "Now
leave me alone."

"I…" Severus faltered. "Yes, of course. I'll just — I'll go back." He looked at her pleadingly,
as if expecting her to change her mind.

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Go on, then. Leave."

Severus opened his mouth, then shut it. He backed up a couple of steps before turning and
walking away. His tattered, oversized robes billowed behind him like a black cloud. Like
smoke in the shape of a skull. Lily stayed where she was, arms crossed, until he was out of
sight.

That Sunday, James and his friends spent the afternoon refurbishing the Shrieking Shack. It
had been Peter's idea: the Shack had taken quite a lot of abuse over the past year, as it no
longer had to withstand only a hungry werewolf, but three other animals as well.
James put himself in charge of wallpapering what might have once been the sitting room.
He'd picked a floral print with a garish yellow background. He thought it was soothing.

"That's horrid," said Remus, nodding towards the wallpaper. He was carrying a bucket of
nails, as he and Sirius were on the furniture-mending committee.

"I think it's nice," said Peter from behind the piano. His job was to keep them entertained by
playing increasingly poor versions of their favourite songs, since they had forgotten to bring
Sirius' record player. "It adds cheer."

"Just what this place needs," said Remus. "More cheer."

Sirius appeared in the doorway, levitating a mangled chair above his head. "That wallpaper
makes the Shack look even sadder somehow. It's like painting the cells of Azkaban pink."

"You lot can shove it," said James, continuing to plaster the walls. "You're going to love the
sitting room when it's finished. Just you wait."

"Oh, is this the sitting room?" asked Remus. "I always thought it was the kitchen."

"The room across the hall's got a sink in it," said Peter. "I think that one's the kitchen."

"Nah, that's the loo," said Sirius. He guided the chair to the middle of the room and sat on it.
Even though the chair was missing three of its four legs, it somehow supported his weight.
"Have we got anything planned for this evening?"

"I do," said Peter smugly. "Priyanka and I are going to the Astronomy tower. She wants to
look at the stars." He waggled his eyebrows.

"A date?" asked Sirius.

"Well… in a manner of speaking —"

"She's already seeing that bloke Bellchant in Ravenclaw," said Remus as he laid down on the
couch. "Very kind of you to offer to help with her Divination homework, though."

"Not a date, then," said Sirius. "Cancel it."

Peter banged his fist on the piano, which emitted a few terribly discordant notes and a puff of
dust. "I can't cancel! D'you know how long it took me to convince her she needed my help?"

"Ages?" offered James.

"You have no idea," said Peter. "I had to sabotage her tea leaves twice and pay Remus to talk
loudly about how good I am at Divs."

Sirius turned to Remus, intrigued. "How much did he give you?"

Remus merely closed his eyes and smiled serenely, his hands clasped over his stomach.
Sirius huffed. "Fine. Keep your secrets." He pointed at Peter. "Since you've suddenly found
yourself free for the evening, you can accompany us on a mission."

"I've already got a mission for you," said Peter, making a rude hand gesture at Sirius.

"Fine by me," said Sirius. "I've only figured out how to finish the Map, after all. It involves
breaking into a forbidden tower and tampering with artefacts created by the Founders
themselves, but if you're not keen…"

"I never said I wasn't keen," said Peter, jumping up from behind the piano. "I'll owl Priyanka
now and tell her something unavoidable's come up. That'll probably make her like me more,
actually — makes me seem mysterious."

"That's the first word that comes to mind when I think about Peter Pettigrew," said Remus,
his eyes still closed. "Mysterious."

"You know what, Moony?" said Peter. "You can do the same as Sirius."

"Don't mind if I do," said Remus. Sirius laughed.

They waited until midnight that evening to sneak out of the common room under the
Invisibility Cloak. It was their first time breaking curfew in months; the increased security at
Hogwarts made going out at night risky, even for them. Especially since they were getting far
too tall for the Cloak to hide all four of them: even crouching, their ankles were clearly
exposed as they crept down the corridor.

"No good, Pete," whispered James once they reached the seventh-floor landing. "You have to
transform. Otherwise we'll be caught."

Peter pouted. "But I can't talk when I'm a rat. And since you refuse to learn M.S.L. —"

"Magical Sign Language?" asked Remus. "I know the basics, you should have said —"

"Mouse Sign Language," corrected Peter. "I spent ages teaching myself, and you lot won't
even consider —"

James groaned. "It's not because we don't love you, Pete. How would it look if someone saw
a rat doing sign language with its creepy little paws?"

"My paws are not creepy, they're —"

"It's too risky," said James firmly. Peter grumbled a little, but after a moment a plump brown
rat had scurried into Remus' pocket, making a gesture with its paws that even James could
understand.

"That's better," said Sirius. "At least my arse isn't sticking out of the Cloak anymore."

"Thank Merlin," said James. "Now, where's this forbidden tower, Pads?"

"No idea."
James was about to say something incredulous, but Peter gave a warning squeak from Remus'
pocket, and they pressed themselves against the wall. A minute later, a worn-looking Auror
climbed the stairs, passing right by them as he plodded down the corridor.

"Close one," whispered James once the Auror was out of earshot. "Thanks, Wormtail. Now,
Pads, what do you mean by 'no idea'?!"

"Well, that's the thing," said Sirius. "Apparently no student has ever been to the tower. And
we never found it when making the Map. But I've got a theory."

James pushed his glasses up his nose. "Do tell."

"It's a funny story," said Sirius, "There I was, thinking that wouldn't it be nice if there was
some sort of secret passage that could take you anywhere you want to go in the castle? When
I realised —"

"Oh," said Remus, as if it was obvious. "The Wandering Stairs."

"Exactly," said Sirius. "Think the Founders planned for that little loophole?"

"We'll find out," said James. "Have we mapped the Stairs?"

"I did," said Remus. "Tricky bit of magic, but I was quite bored in the hospital wing at the
time. If you get out the Map…"

According to the Map, the Wandering Stairs were near the Muggle Studies classroom on the
first floor. As soon as they spotted the familiar brass doorknob jutting out from the wall,
James pulled the door open and ushered the others inside. Sirius was out from under the
Cloak and dashing up the steps before James had even told the staircase their destination.

Remus beat James to it. "We'd like to go to the tower where the Book of Admittance is kept,"
he said, as if making a polite request to a waiter.

A sound like the heavy scraping of stone on stone filled the narrow staircase. The floor
beneath their feet rumbled, and the torches on the walls flared brightly. James held his breath.

From the top of the staircase, Sirius whooped.

"It worked!"

The rat leapt out of Remus' pocket and scampered up the stairs. James followed close behind.
Last to the top was Remus, whose back was ramrod straight as he ascended each step stiffly.

James and Sirius exchanged a look. They knew better than to offer Remus help, or to
insinuate in any way that he might be in pain.

"Full disclosure," amended Sirius. "I think the Stairs worked. Just stuck my arm through the
wall, so it goes somewhere."

"Only one way to find out," said James, and he stepped through the wall.
He emerged into a small, circular room which was completely devoid of furniture, save for a
stone lectern in the middle. Atop the lectern lay an ancient-looking book bound in black
dragon-hide leather. Beside the book was a small silver ink pot containing a long quill. The
quill's feathers were nearly translucent, as if its colour had been leached away.

"Shit," said Sirius, stopping short. "We really found it."

Peter was eyeing the book and quill nervously. "Shouldn't we… I mean… we really shouldn't
touch anything here, right?"

Sirius shrugged. "It's not like the Founders are here to stop us."

"This is going to surprise you," said Remus, "but I advise we proceed with caution."

"Well, there's no rush," said James. "Why don't we just… sit here a bit, and see if the Book
does anything?"

Sirius checked his watch. "How long's a bit? There's no door to this stuffy old tower, and I
don't fancy getting trapped up here if the Wandering Stairs move to some other part of the
castle. What'll we do if one of us needs the loo?"

"We could always use the inkpot, I suppose," said Peter. "Though we'd have some explaining
to do to Dumbledore…"

Something on the lectern thumped. The book had flown open, and its pages were turning
rapidly, as if someone was rifling through them. James inched closer, amazed; each page was
covered in rows and rows of names. Finally, the book stopped at a page that was partially
blank: the list of names only extended halfway down the page.

"Shafiq," muttered James, reading the surnames on the list. "Carrow… Yaxley... ooh, two
Weasleys, good show..."

"There's one that says 'Johnson'," observed Remus, joining James at the lectern. "A Muggle-
born child, do you reckon?"

The large, nearly-translucent quill jumped out of its inkpot. James stepped back quickly,
watching the quill as it hovered above the book.

"That's an Augury quill," said Sirius. "Augury feathers don't hold ink."

"The inkpot's empty, in any case," said Remus, peering into the inkwell. "Peter, where's your
black quill? I want to try something."

While Peter rummaged in his bag, James and Sirius watched the Augury quill. The nib of the
quill touched the pages of the book, then drew back as if it was hesitating about something.
The book quivered, but didn't shut.

The quill began to write, adding a new name to the list. The room was silent, save for the
scratching of the quill. Aside from the Sorting Hat, James had never encountered an artefact
enchanted by the Founders; he felt like he was watching a holy ritual.
The quill finished its inscription, and the book slammed shut. Remus dipped Peter's black
quill into the empty inkpot just before the Augury quill settled gracefully into the inkwell.

Sirius looked at James, his face white. "Did you see the name it wrote?"

"Yeah," said James. "Nymph-something. Didn't recognise the surname, though. A Half-Blood
child, d'you reckon?"

"Nymphadora Tonks," said Sirius, who seemed like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I
— I think we're related?" He looked about somewhat wildly. "If she's Andromeda's daughter,
does that make her my cousin or my niece? Does anyone know, I've never — I haven't got
—"

"Andromeda's pregnant?" asked Peter. "But I didn't hear anything about a betrothal, usually
my mum —"

"She's already married," said Sirius. "To a Muggle-born. Ted Tonks."

Remus frowned. "Andromeda's child can't be older than a month or so. To already show signs
of magic would be highly unusual. There aren't any blood curses that run in your family, are
there?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Moony," said Sirius, who began to smile, looking relieved. "'Dromeda's
daughter must be precocious, that's all. Not to mention, if the book's writing her name — that
means she's alive."

James clapped Sirius on the back. "Congratulations on your new cousin, Pads."

"She's actually your niece, I think," said Peter.

James shook his head. "She's Sirius' niece, not mine, Wormtail."

"That's not what I —"

"Didn't you say she was Sirius' cousin, Prongs?" asked Remus.

"Sirius hasn't got a cousin named Prongs," said James. "He's only got me."

"I hate all of you," said Peter.

"Well, whatever she is, we'll have to celebrate," said Sirius. He spread the Marauder's Map on
the floor of the tower and gestured for Peter to hand him the black quill. Although the inkpot
had appeared empty, the nib of the black quill was full of a strange, silvery fluid.

Sirius sat cross-legged on the floor and touched the black quill to the Map. He recoiled as the
quill jumped out of his hand and began to write of its own accord, skimming over the
parchment.

James swore, peering over Sirius' shoulder. "I can't believe it. It's working."
The quill was poised over the Headmaster's study, sketching a pair of dots labelled 'Albus
Dumbledore' and 'Minerva McGonagall'. From there, the quill moved to the seventh floor,
where a dot labelled 'Chester Fernsby' was patrolling the corridors.

In less than five minutes, the quill had added the dots of every student and professor in
Hogwarts and had started on the Aurors.

Sirius nudged James. "We should charm so it'll do ghosts and animals, too, yeah? And non-
magic people, like Filch?"

"I don't know if we'll have to," said James. The quill had just added 'Mrs. Norris' to the fifth-
floor corridor.

Remus cast an impressed look at the Book of Admittance. "And here I thought we were
clever. The Founders make us look like a bunch of Squibs."

"Have a little faith, will you?" said James. "I doubt Rowena created her diadem during her
year seven N.E.W.T.s. Give us a few decades and we'll blow those old dotards out of the
water."

At last, the black quill finished writing its last dot: 'Rubeus Hagrid', who was currently in his
cabin, accompanied by Fang. It laid itself beside the Map, and the last of the silvery ink
leaked out of it.

"Wow," said James, examining the Map. He'd thought of adding the dots as something of a
side project compared to drawing a map of Hogwarts itself, but he saw now that he'd had it
backwards. The hundreds of dots, all moving of their own accord, had transformed the
Marauder's Map into something truly magical. Hogwarts was a living, breathing organism,
and they'd captured its essence perfectly.

Sirius grinned. "We are never getting caught after curfew again."

The Wandering Stairs began to rumble, as if it had heard him. James scrambled to his feet,
stuffing the map into his bag, and pushed the others towards the Wandering Stairs. "Don't jinx
it, Pads. Let's go!"

The four of them together barely fit on the landing at the top of the staircase. The torches on
the wall flickered, and the rumbling noise sounded again, much louder this time.

James' heart began to pound. They didn't have much time until the Wandering Stairs moved
to a different part of the castle. If he could reach the bottom of the staircase in time, though…
He might be able to hold open the door to the first floor before they ended up Merlin knows
where.

James pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his bag and tossed it at Sirius. "You lot can hide
under this. I'll go on ahead."

While the others disappeared under the Cloak, James dashed down the stairs. The whole
staircase was shaking like it was caught in an earthquake, causing him to trip — He only just
caught himself, but then the torches flickered out, plunging the staircase into darkness — He
couldn't see, but he couldn't slow down —

He collided with someone on the stairs. Whoever it was cried out in alarm and tumbled
backwards. Instinct took over, and James lunged forward blindly, as if reaching for the
Quaffle. He just barely managed to grab the newcomer by the forearm and catch them mid-
fall.

Whoever it was, they were shorter than him by a good margin, and their arms felt… soft,
somehow. A girl? He pulled her onto the step he was standing on and put his hands around
her waist to steady her, lest she lose her footing again. "Alright?" he asked.

The girl was breathing heavily. "James?"

He jumped back as if he'd been burned. "Lily?"

The rumbling stopped as the staircase ground to a halt, and the torches on the walls flared
brightly. Lily looked down, adjusting her robes self-consciously. "I — er — thanks."

"Sorry," said James automatically, holding up his hands. The same hands that had just been
around her waist. Hopefully she wouldn't hex him. "Didn't mean to — I would never —"

Lily blinked, looking a little dazed. "What time is it?"

"Er, half twelve, I think," said James. A soft breeze tickled the back of his neck, and he
glanced up the stairs; his mates were nowhere to be seen, but he was certain they were close
by, watching him with interest.

"Half twelve?" repeated Lily. She groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "You — you're breaking
curfew…"

"Only technically," said James. "What time does curfew start, anyway, midnight? I'm
practically —"

"Ten o'clock."

"Oh," said James. That was earlier than he'd thought.

"I'm going to have to give you detention, you know."

"Ah," said James, "but it's a weekend. If you give me detention, you'll be in charge of
overseeing it. You don't want that, do you?"

Lily cocked her head at him. For a moment, she looked like she really didn't mind the
prospect of watching him write lines. "I'll survive somehow," she said at last. "See you next
weekend, James." And she began to climb the staircase, yawning.

James watched her go. "That's it?" he asked. "No threats? No lighthearted banter?"
Lily shrugged. "I'm too tired. Just got done in the hospital wing — had to help Pomfrey with
an Untransfiguration case that took hours." She turned to look at him, smiling a little. "If
banter's what you're after, talk to me tomorrow and you might have more luck."

"Oh," said James. He felt oddly shy. Was she flirting with him? "Alright, then. Where're the
Stairs leading to, now, by the way?"

"The common room, of course," said Lily. "Are you coming?"

After an extremely disappointing Potions lesson, Severus retreated to his secret room in the
library, muttering to himself. His Amortentia had failed to achieve its characteristic mother-
of-pearl sheen — likely Avery's fault for adding the rose petals too early. But the worst insult
was that Lily had refused to look at him. She'd crushed her nettles and stirred her
nauseatingly perfect Amortentia without so much as glancing his way.

That's not to say he didn't notice her, though — whatever perfume she was wearing had been
so strong it had given him a headache.

He'd decided beforehand that this Potions lesson would be her last chance to change her
mind. If she had acknowledged his presence in any way — even the smallest of eye contact
would have done — he would have postponed his investigation of Sally Dearborn's
disappearance. At least until he and Lily were back on speaking terms. Then he would have
suggested they investigate together. It would have been just like old times: he and Lily
against the world.

That hadn't happened, though. Lily had ignored him as completely as she had the entire
school year. As if she'd never gone to his house during the Easter holidays at all.

He tried to tell himself that was her loss, not his. But he didn't really believe it.

There was only one course of action left, then: he would have to continue his investigation
without Lily.

Without Lily, and without the mirror.

In his secret room, he glared at the mirror for several minutes, daring it to test his
Occlumency barriers. His own snarling face stared back at him, lips curled. Satisfied, he
shrunk the mirror until it could fit in his pocket and carried it out of the library.

He wasn't entirely certain where he ought to hide the mirror; he only knew that he couldn't
keep using it. He'd mastered Occlumency so completely he could control which fantasy the
mirror plucked from his mind. He had no further use for it.

There was another reason to hide the mirror, too, though. And this one went somewhat
deeper.
The mirror lied, over and over, and he was always worse off for it.

He would have destroyed the mirror entirely, but the thought caused his chest to twinge with
discomfort. It would be a shame to destroy such a powerfully enchanted artefact. So he
decided to put the mirror somewhere nobody would ever find it, and let the knowledge of the
mirror die with him.

The only problem was finding a good hiding place.

Severus paced back and forth on the seventh floor. He'd scoured the entire castle, and none of
his usual hiding places seemed secure enough for the mirror. He needed a better solution.

Severus stopped pacing abruptly. Across the corridor, a door had appeared that he was certain
hadn't been there a moment ago. The Wandering Stairs, perhaps? But no — this doorknob
was different. He tried the handle, which was unlocked, and stepped inside.

The room was enormous, filled to the brim with piles and piles of rubbish. Towers of old
furniture and broken statues stretched towards the cavernous ceiling, forming makeshift
passageways. It was perfect.

"Point Me," he whispered to his wand, and he began to explore the stacks of junk.

After nearly half an hour of wandering through the maze of forgotten objects, he found a spot
that he thought was obscure enough. He restored the mirror to its usual size and left it nestled
between a wardrobe that looked like it had been set on fire and a cage large enough to contain
a human.

Satisfied, he swivelled on his heel, but something nagged at his conscience. This room was
dizzyingly full of harmless knickknacks, but there were clearly contraband items, here, too.
That shrivelled hand lying delicately atop a moth-eaten pouffe, for example — it was
certainly cursed.

Severus might have been a lot of things, but even he wasn't arrogant enough to believe that he
was the first student to ever make use of this hiding spot. If someone else were to stumble
upon this mirror, by chance…

He ought to leave them a warning.

He gritted his teeth and turned back around, angry at his own conscience. This mirror had
surely made him as soft as Regulus Black. What did he care if some idiot lost their mind by
staring into the mirror for too long?

Scowling, he used his wand to carve an inscription into the mirror's golden frame. Nothing
too obvious: spelling out exactly what the mirror was capable of might do more harm than
good. But, to the discerning mind — which was the only mind worth saving — the warning
would be plainly obvious.

During his free period the following day, Severus returned to the seventh floor. It had been a
mistake to get rid of the only thing that brought him comfort. He wanted the mirror back.
But he couldn't find the room. He spent hours scouring the corridors of the seventh floor,
even returning after dinner, but to no avail. Apparently the room full of rubbish had been a
better hiding spot than he'd known.

Furious, mostly with himself, Severus stalked through the library. He'd smash some beakers
in his secret room; that always made him feel better.

In the library, Avery was sitting alone at a table, staring at a piece of parchment. As Severus
swept past, Avery raised his head, looking annoyingly eager. "Sev? D'you have a minute?"

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What is it now, Edmund?"

"I was just wondering if you'd finished McGonagall's essay on Conjured beings," said Avery,
looking miserable. "I've got no idea where to even start."

Severus peered over Avery's shoulder. Avery hadn't been lying; his parchment was blank
except for his name in the corner.

"If you're incapable of understanding the theory of Conjured beings, you'll have no chance
when we start animal Conjuration next month —"

"That's why I need your help!" said Avery in a panicked voice. "I have to at least pass
Transfiguration! I'm already going to fail Potions and Charms."

Severus blinked. Avery might not be a genius, but he wasn't stupid. And he'd certainly never
failed a subject before. "N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration isn't for everyone," he said slowly.

"I know not everyone is cut out for N.E.W.T.s, but — I got six O.W.L.s!" said Avery. "I know
I'm capable. Everything just seems so much harder this year. I get so confused. Does that ever
happen to you?" he added a little hopefully.

Severus' eyes narrowed. Lily had been suspicious of Avery. Now he could practically hear
her whispering in his ear. What about Obliviation? If someone had Obliviated Avery, but
done a shoddy job of it… That could certainly explain his academic struggles.

"Come with me," said Severus briskly, and he strode towards his secret room. Behind him,
Avery struggled to keep up.

Once they were inside the room, Avery looked around, wide-eyed. "Is this where you go
when you're avoiding us?"

"I do not avoid you," said Severus scathingly. He dragged the chair from his potions bench
into the middle of the room, where the mirror had once stood. "Sit," he commanded Avery.

Avery sat. "So, about Conjured beings —"

"Forget Conjuration for a moment," said Severus. "I need to check something."

He pulled out his wand, intending to cast Legilimency on Avery, but something stopped him.
Lily had been so angry when he'd tried the spell on her. She said he had invaded her privacy.
Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Avery was watching him, concerned. "Sev —"

Severus spoke over him. "I will need your… permission."

"For what?"

Severus fought the urge to throw something. He couldn't afford to spend all day explaining
things to imbeciles. "I think someone has tampered with your mind. I need your permission
to check if this is true."

Severus had been expecting Avery to protest, or call him crazy, but Avery did nothing of the
sort. Instead, he seemed to deflate, as if Severus' words didn't come as a surprise. "Go ahead,
then."

This surprised Severus more than anything else so far. "Are you certain?"

Avery nodded glumly. "I've been… I've been having issues for a while. I thought I was just
getting stupider, but… there are things I can't remember. Maybe it would be good to get those
memories back."

"Indeed," said Severus slowly. Merlin, he'd been so prepared to fight Avery over this. He
didn't know how to handle this sudden vulnerability.

Avery was looking imploringly at Severus. "Just — just promise that whatever you find, you
won't let them send me to Azkaban. Right?"

"Azkaban," repeated Severus. "Why would anyone send you to Azkaban?"

"I don't know," said Avery, wringing his hands. "That's the trouble of it. I don't know. But I
can't remember anything that happened on Halloween, and that's when Sally vanished, isn't
it? I could have done anything. I could have killed her."

Severus' mind began to buzz with clarity. Lily's hunch had been right. "You didn't kill Sally
Dearborn," he said, though privately he was uncertain. "Allow me to peer into your mind. Let
me see if I can find those memories."

Avery nodded. Severus' heart was beating so fast that he could hear it in his ears. He pointed
his wand at Avery's chest, maintaining firm eye contact. "Legilimens."

At once, his mind was filled with a flood of thoughts and feelings that weren't his own. The
deluge of foreign thoughts was so overwhelming that he nearly ended the spell. He'd only
ever performed intentional, verbal Legilimency once, on Bella, and she had been an
Occlumens; peering into an unguarded mind was a different experience entirely.

He had merely to think of a question, and Avery's mind offered the answer readily. He was
free to peruse hours and hours of memories in which Avery struggled with homework;
memories of Avery meeting with Slughorn about his poor marks, of Avery surreptitiously
copying off Severus and even Mulciber during lessons.
Severus sifted through Avery's memories, going back further in time. At last, he found a
memory of Slughorn knocking on the dormitory door, informing them that Sally Dearborn
was missing.

Severus went back slightly further. Avery was in the Great Hall, which was decorated for the
Halloween feast, and then — nothing. He went back further, but there were no memories to
find.

Further.

Avery was working on a Charms essay in the library, scribbling confidently. Severus took a
closer look at the parchment: the essay was on non-verbal spellcasting. That had been their
assignment the day before Halloween.

Severus pulled himself out of Avery's mind with some effort. "You were right," he said.
"Your memories of Halloween have been erased."

"Merlin's beard," whispered Avery, tears in his eyes. "I knew it."

"I can try to restore those memories, but it will be difficult," said Severus. "Breaking a
Memory Charm is notoriously risky, and I've never done it before. It requires a delicate
touch, or your mind could be scrambled further. If you'd like, we can go to Madam Pomfrey,
and —"

Avery shook his head firmly. "Not Pomfrey," he said. "I don't know what she'd do if — if the
memory was damning. I need someone I can trust."

Well, that certainly ruled Severus out. "I shall contact Bella, then. There is surely a Primary
who is capable —"

Avery chuckled. "I was talking about you, Sev."

"Pardon?"

"For someone so smart, you can sure be thick sometimes," said Avery with a smile. "We were
Intents together, Sev. Now we're Secondaries. I know we quarrel a bit, but in the end it's us
against the school, isn't it? If I can't trust you, who can I trust?"

Well. That was certainly one way of looking at it.

"You must be aware of the risks," said Severus. "There could be unforeseen consequences…"

"Worse than missing memories? Worse than failing my exams?"

Yes, thought Severus. Out loud, he said, "It's possible."

Avery thought about it. "I trust you," he said at last.

"Alright," said Severus, before Avery had a chance to change his mind. He tried not to seem
too gleeful at the fact that he would be the one to find out what had happened to Sally. Not
Dumbledore. Not Lily. Severus Snape, the outcast. "Close your eyes."

Avery obliged. Severus pressed his wand to Avery's temple and began to recite the counter-
charm. Normally he'd prefer a bit more practice before attempting something like this, but
there was no time. At least he was well-acquainted with the theory of Memory Charms. That
would have to be enough.

Breaking the Memory Charm took a while. Severus was cautious at first — too cautious. He
made no real progress until he dug a little deeper, ignoring Avery's whimpers. Whoever had
Obliviated Avery had done a decent job, though it seemed like they had been rushed. Any
competent Obliviator would have known not to leave gaps in memory, to fill in the missing
memories with entirely new ones. It wasn't difficult to do —

The image of a staircase flashed in Severus' mind, and his heart leapt. Now he was getting
somewhere.

Avery groaned a little bit. Severus dug his wand into his temple, and Avery fell silent.

Severus continued to mutter the counter-charm. Avery' eyes were closed, but his eyelids
quivered, as if he was having a bad dream. Severus caught a glimpse of another image — a
short girl with plaited blonde hair ascending the stairs. Sally Dearborn.

He needed to see more.

"Open your eyes," said Severus.

"Can't," moaned Avery. "I don't know — let me be, I can't remember —"

"Edmund Avery," growled Severus. "Look at me."

Avery's eyelids fluttered open.

In his mind's eye, Severus saw Sally Dearborn ascend the staircase to the fifth floor, her
blonde plaits bouncing against the back of her robes. Avery was several steps behind her,
climbing silently. They were alone; it was his chance.

"Need an escort?" Avery said once they had both reached the fifth-floor landing.

Sally froze. She turned slowly on her heel.

"Nice try," she said disdainfully. "Go back to your Death Eater friends, why don't you?"

Avery shrugged. "It's your funeral." He started to descend the staircase, but paused and
looked back around. Sally's back was to him as she climbed the stairs to the sixth floor. His
hand strayed to his wand.

A girl with olive skin and straight dark hair appeared on the fifth-floor landing and began to
descend the stairs; Avery continued slowly down the staircase until the girl passed him and
was out of sight.
He turned. Sally had nearly reached the sixth floor. He drew his wand. "Petrificus totalus."

Sally stiffened, then tipped over. Her Petrified body clattered down the staircase, landing
facedown on the stone floor.

Avery stowed his wand and raced up the steps, two at a time. He turned her Petrified body
over. The hex had wiped the disdainful expression off her face; her eyes were wide with
terror.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind Avery. "Any luck, Edmund?"

"Regulus," said Avery, pleased. "Look who I found."

Regulus stepped around Avery. His eyes widened at Sally's helpless form. Regulus drew his
wand and pointed it at Sally.

"It's alright, Reg," said Avery. "She's Petrified, she can't hurt us."

Regulus nodded curtly. He kept his wand trained on Sally, though his hand was shaking
slightly.

Avery grinned, eager to see what Regulus would do. "Go on, then, Reg. Give it to her."

Regulus muttered a spell under his breath. He must have cast a counter-curse, because Sally
began to sit up.

The grin slid off Avery's face. "Regulus, what in the name of Merlin's —"

Regulus turned and pressed his wand into Avery's chest. "I can't let you do this, Edmund."

"What — you — I had her! I had her, why did you —"

Regulus looked at Sally over his shoulder. "Hide. Quickly." She scrambled up the staircase.

Avery drew himself up to his full height. "Have you gone mad? Explain yourself, I've half a
mind to tell Augustus —"

"I've never done this before," said Regulus. He was staring at the tip of his wand where it
pressed into Avery's chest.

"Done what? Get your wand off of me —" Avery tried to push Regulus' wand away, but to no
avail.

"I really hope this is as easy as Uncle Alphard makes it seem." Regulus sounded like he was
talking to himself.

"Reg? What are you on about?"

"I'm sorry, Edmund," said Regulus, sounding pained. He touched his wand to Avery's
forehead. "Obliviate."
With a great effort, Severus pulled himself out of Avery's mind. His heart was pounding in
his chest.

"Regulus Black," he said. Of course. That soft-hearted fool — he hadn't wanted Sally
Dearborn's death on his conscience. But how…?

Avery made a gurgling sound, snapping Severus out of his thoughts. The Memory Charm was
broken, but at what cost? Could he have turned Avery's mind to mush entirely?

He knelt beside Avery, whose head listed to one side as he stared into space.

"Edmund. Can you hear me?"

After a moment, Avery nodded.

"Good," said Severus. "Now. I have some simple questions for you. Indulge me for a minute.
Can you tell me your name?"

After a long moment, Avery's eyes met Severus'. "Edmund," he said slowly. "Edmund…
Charles… Avery."

"That's right," said Severus, relieved. "Do you know where we are, Edmund?"

Avery looked around at Severus' secret room. "Cupboard?"

Severus winced. "Try again."

"…Hogwarts," said Avery after a moment.

"Correct," said Severus. "What year is it?"

Avery didn't respond for over a minute.

"Give me an answer," said Severus. "Anything. Try."

Finally, Avery shook his head. His eyes were brimming with tears.

Severus closed his eyes, pained. This was his fault. "Last question, Edmund. What were we
doing, just now?"

"Don't know," said Avery. He sounded so small, like a child. "We — we're at Hogwarts,
right? Does that mean we've been Sorted? Do you know my House?"

Severus berated himself. Stupid — arrogant… He should have taken Avery to Madam
Pomfrey. He should have done anything else. "You're in Slytherin."
"Slytherin?!" Avery let out a cry of joy.

Severus turned away, pressing a hand over his face.

 The Hiding Place

Severus kept Avery in his secret room for the better part of the afternoon. It soon became
apparent that although Avery's memory was scrambled, he hadn't lost everything: he could
remember bits and pieces of his time at Hogwarts.

Severus was able to explain without too much difficulty that Avery was in his sixth year at
Hogwarts and that he was part of a secret group of students who were loyal to a Dark Lord
(Avery seemed particularly enthusiastic about the last bit).

"You fell victim to a curse," said Severus. "A hastily-cast Memory Charm. I tried to restore
your lost memories, but was unable to lift the curse in its entirety." That was a half-truth at
best, but Severus was not about to take responsibility for scrambling Avery's brains.

"A curse?" said Avery, blinking widely. "Why? Do I have enemies?"

"Of a sort. I suspect it was the work of a rogue group of Gryffindors." A lie, but a necessary
one. Avery couldn't be trusted with the truth in his current state. He'd tip Regulus off.

"Gryf-fin-dor," repeated Avery, sounding out the word. "Gryffindor en-em-ies." He

brightened. "Potter and Black!"

Severus' lips curled into a cruel smile. "That's right. Not to worry, Edmund — We'll make
them pay."

That evening, Severus took Avery to rejoin the other Followers, who were gathered in
Dungeon Thirteen for their weekly ritual. Mulciber stood in the centre of the room, arms
crossed, as Regulus pointed his wand at Mulciber's chest. Some sort of duelling practice,
perhaps. Rosier and Wilkes were lounging on the white couches, looking bored.

"About time," growled Mulciber as Severus shut the heavy golden door behind them. "Where
have you two been?"

"Augustus!" exclaimed Avery. "Augustus Mul-ci-ber. Wow, you've gotten really big!" His
eyes bugged out as he noticed the green trim on Mulciber's robes. "You're in Slytherin? Me,
too!" He began to chant under his breath. "Slytherin, Slytherin… Salazar Slytherin…"

Mulciber's icy blue eyes narrowed. "Have you gone mad, Edmund?"

Severus stepped in front of Avery. "He's been cursed," he said flatly. "It's addled his mind.
Removing the curse was beyond my capability."

"Cursed?" said Mulciber. Rosier and Wilkes sat up from the couch, looking alarmed.

"I suspect Potter and Black," said Severus. "Black's sense of humour can be… deranged.
Wouldn't you agree, Regulus?"
Regulus had lowered his wand and was staring at Severus. He looked confused, and like he
had half a mind to flee the room. Nothing out of the ordinary, then. "You think… you think
my brother put a curse on Avery?"

"So it would seem," said Severus. "Unless you can think of someone else who would find it
funny to scramble someone's mind?"

Regulus blanched. Severus held his gaze, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction. Betraying
Avery, helping Sally Dearborn escape… Regulus probably thought he'd gotten away with it.
It would be fun to watch him squirm.

Rosier and Wilkes made room on the couch for Avery to join them in a game of Exploding
Snap, though it quickly became apparent that Avery could no longer tell a dangerous
Manticore card from a harmless pair of Bowtruckles.

Mulciber was watching Avery with something that might have been labelled concern, had
Muciber been capable of empathy. "I'll tell Slughorn. He'll see to it that Potter and Black are
punished."

"As they should be," said Severus. "It is truly nauseating what they have done to poor
Edmund. Spell damage, after all… I doubt even Madam Pomfrey will be able to put him
right."

Mulciber shook his head. "Those bastards. We should have taken care of them long ago."

"Indeed," said Severus. "Incidentally, I hope you'll forgive me for missing the ritual. I had to
do what little I could to save Edmund's mind."

"Of course," said Mulciber. "Don't worry. I thought you'd forgotten about us, but if you were
taking care of Edmund…"

He trailed off. Across the room, Avery was holding his cards upside-down.

"Was the ritual a fruitful one?" asked Severus. He'd heard that Mulciber had plans for them to
go unicorn hunting, a sport Severus found utterly distasteful. Maybe he'd been lucky enough
to miss it.

"Fruitful?" Mulciber scoffed. "Hardly. Regulus and I are working on our Unforgivables. He's
having a bit of trouble. Aren't you, Reg?"

Regulus' grey eyes, proof of his pedigree, were darting back and forth between Severus and
Mulciber with such speed that Severus half-expected him to make himself sick. "Only a bit."

Mulciber stage-whispered to Severus. "His Cruciatus Curse feels more like being tickled.
And he hasn't been able to perform the Killing Curse at all."

A corner of Severus' lip twisted into a sneer. "Let this be your motivation, Regulus: the Dark
Lord needs us to fight a war. How much use do you think he will have for a Follower who is
incapable of harming others?"
Regulus flinched. "That's… You make a valid point." He drew his wand once more and
aimed it at Mulciber, though his hand was twitching.

Some time later, Mulciber declared the ritual over for the night. Regulus had finally managed
to kill a mangy-looking rat in a cage, though he never did master the Cruciatus Curse, and he
fled the room as soon as they were dismissed.

Rosier and Wilkes guided Avery towards the door, promising that he'd love the Slytherin
common room. Severus turned to Mulciber, who was casually de-boning the rat carcass. "If I
may. I have a suggestion, Augustus."

Mulciber's attention was on the puddle of fur in front of him. "Go on, then."

"Are you going to interrogate us with Veritaserum? Like we did last year?"

"Yeah," said Mulciber. "Weekend after next — we'll be hunting unicorns next Saturday, of
course."

"I look forward to it," said Severus drily. "Bella will be providing the Veritaserum, I
assume?"

Mulciber grunted. "Mmm. She and Lucius can't make it to the interrogation this time, though.
She said something about being needed at headquarters."

"That's likely," said Severus. Lucius and Bella probably didn't want to risk sneaking into
Hogwarts, considering all the security that had been added.

Mulciber missed the sarcasm in Severus' voice entirely. "Yeah. I guess the war is getting
serious. My father nearly —"

"You should interrogate us next weekend," said Severus, cutting smoothly across him. He had
no desire to hear Mulciber's anxiety about the perils his father found himself in.

Mulciber frowned. It looked like he was thinking hard. "But there'll be clear skies next
weekend. The unicorn hunt…"

"Administer Veritaserum instead," said Severus. "Trust me."

After a moment, Mulciber nodded, and Severus relaxed. He needed to interrogate Regulus
under Veritaserum as soon as possible. Considering Regulus was an Occlumens, Veritaserum
would be the easiest way to weaken his mental defences. It would be the best chance Severus
had to use Legilimency and figure out the truth.

"Sev," said Mulciber as Severus turned to leave.

"Yes?"

Mulciber squared his shoulders. "Thanks for looking after Edmund today," he said stiffly. "I
couldn't have done it. I don't know the first thing about spell theory."
No, thought Severus. You couldn't have. Out loud, he said, "It was nothing. We look out for
each other."

"We do," said Mulciber. He cleared his throat. "Sometimes I forget we're on the same side,
you and I. I'm, er, glad we're not fighting, for once."

Surely he was joking. "I'm glad for it, as well," said Severus. It was true: having Mulciber's
trust only made it easier for Severus to undermine him at the first chance he got.

The Gryffindors' double Transfiguration lesson that Tuesday went by particularly quickly,
probably because Sirius slept through most of it. The night before had been the full moon,
and a particularly exciting one, at that; the wolf had managed to slip out of the Shrieking
Shack, and Sirius and James had had a hell of a time keeping it away from Hogsmeade.

Remus, upon transforming back, had had an inkling of what had happened, but seemed too
tired to care. Sirius had found the whole thing exhilarating, though it had left him exhausted.

"Your rabbit, please, Black," said Professor McGonagall at the end of the lesson.

Sirius raised his head from the desk and gestured sleepily with his wand. A fluffy brown
rabbit appeared on the desk with a small pop. Upon closer inspection, the rabbit didn't look as
solidly real as the one James was holding, but at least it wasn't made of chocolate, like Peter's
was.

Professor McGonagall lifted a thin eyebrow. "Impressive. Especially for a student who slept
through the lesson."

Sirius yawned. "I learn best through osmosis."

The bell rang, but as the other students began to file out of the room, they were met with
some resistance: Professor Slughorn had appeared in the doorway, and his ample stomach
made it difficult to slip by.

"Pardon me," said Professor Slughorn genially, pushing his way into the classroom.
"Minerva, if I may — I'd like a word with Potter and Black."

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed dangerously behind her glasses. "Be my guest," she said
archly, and she swept out of the room.

Sirius and James exchanged worried looks. It was never good when they couldn't remember
what they were in trouble for.

"The tower, d'you reckon?" whispered James.

"Couldn't be," said Sirius. "Maybe he figured out that we ruined Snivellus' Amortentia last
week…"

He trailed off. Professor Slughorn approached them, unsmiling.

"My dear boys," he began, clasping his hands over his stomach. "I'm sure you are already
aware of why I wish to speak to you."

"Erm," said James. "We did something wrong, I assume."

This was apparently not the response that Professor Slughorn wanted to hear. He frowned,
which in itself was cause for alarm. Slughorn was not known for being stern.

"I was hoping you would have enough of a conscience to come clean without my prodding. I
see now this is not the case."

Sirius racked his brains, trying to think of something he had recently done that merited
feeling guilty about. Beside him, James looked as confused as Sirius felt.

"Sorry, Professor," said James slowly, "but I'm honestly not sure what you're referring to."

Professor Slughorn shook his head gravely. "I am speaking, of course, of the curse you have
placed on Edmund Avery."

Sirius ran his hands through his hair, trying to think. He was fairly certain the last interaction
he'd had with Avery had been a month ago, when they had taunted him with the Marauder's
Map. But they hadn't cursed him so much as gotten him temporarily banned from the library.

James was apparently having the same thoughts. "Surely Avery's allowed back in the library
by now, Professor?"

"Trust me, we have scoured the Restricted Section for a counter-curse," said Slughorn,
apparently misunderstanding. "But despite our efforts, even Madam Pomfrey has admitted
that he may never regain his complete mental faculties."

Sirius was fairly certain that he'd remember casting a curse that extreme. "No offence,
Professor, but I think you're barking up the wrong tree," he said, ignoring James' warning
look. "Whatever happened to Avery, we didn't do it."

"Come now, boys," said Slughorn seriously. "I have the word of no less than four Slytherin
students that they were present when you cast the curse. Your own brother, in fact —"

"What?!" exclaimed Sirius. "Regulus said that? That lying, disloyal little —" And he called
Regulus something foul enough to make James wince.

"Two points from Gryffindor for language," said Slughorn disapprovingly. "I am afraid that I
must give the both of you" — he took a dramatic breath — "weekend detention. I shall see
you in my office on Saturday evening."
Sirius snorted. He would have laughed out loud, except James elbowed him hard in the side.
A single detention was Slughorn's way of coming down hard on them? No wonder
burgeoning Death Eaters were running around Slytherin unchecked.

"Erm, Professor," said James. "I've already got detention on Saturday evening."

Professor Slughorn frowned. "Well. That certainly… well." He looked like he was short-
circuiting. Apparently he found the thought of serving two detentions in one weekend
inconceivable.

At long last, Slughorn said, "I expect you shall simply have to serve my detention on Sunday,
then." He paused, clearly expecting James to protest.

"Two detentions!" said James, catching onto what a lucky break he was getting. "And on the
weekend!"

"Yes," said Slughorn. He seemed glad to finally be getting somewhere with them. "No,
Potter, do not beg; I will not budge on this. It is time you learned that there are consequences
for your actions."

After Slughorn had gone, James turned to Sirius, pushing his glasses up his nose. "What in
Merlin's name was that about? D'you really think someone cursed Avery?"

"I dunno," said Sirius darkly, "but I'm going to murder Reg."

James went to the Great Hall for lunch, but Sirius stayed in the Transfiguration classroom and
unfolded the Marauder's Map on his desk. Regulus, apparently, was practising Quidditch with
the rest of the Slytherin team.

Sirius stormed out of the castle so quickly he might have Apparated.

"Regulus!" he bellowed, striding across the Quidditch pitch.

Mulciber and Wilkes were hovering far above the grassy pitch. They smirked at each other,
as if they'd known this was coming, and Sirius fought the urge to hex them.

Regulus nudged his broom downwards, gliding to a gentle stop in front of Sirius. Up close,
he didn't look much better than he had over the Easter holidays; the circles under his eyes had
grown even darker, as though he still wasn't sleeping.

"Yes?" said Regulus.

"Did you tell Slughorn I put a curse on Avery? That you saw me put a curse on Avery?"
Regulus glanced up. The other Slytherins were wheeling above them like vultures. "So you
didn't, then?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"You tell me." Sirius advanced on Regulus, his fists clenched. "Considering you apparently
saw me do it."

"Severus said —"

There it was. "And you believed him? Merlin's pants, Reg, if you took Snivellus' word for it,
you're even stupider than Father thinks you are —"

Regulus shrank back, and Sirius broke off. He'd expected Regulus to retaliate, not grimace as
if he'd just been punched. "Father doesn't think I'm stupid."

The other Slytherins were still watching them hungrily. Probably hoping he and Regulus
would hex each other.

"Alright," said Sirius. "You're not stupid. But you are a disloyal prick for throwing me under
the bus like that."

Regulus drew in a breath. "That's… fair."

Sirius pointed his wand at Regulus. He wasn't going to hex him, but Regulus didn't know
that. Neither did the other Slytherins. Hopefully they'd stay far above, out of earshot. "What
happened to poor, innocent Avery, anyway?"

Regulus stared at Sirius' wand. "I don't know. His mind's gone a bit funny."

"Funny how?"

"He's forgetful, for one. And he's been acting sort of… simple. It's like he's a child again."

"Well, that makes it easy," said Sirius. "Terrible memory, lowered intelligence, age
regression… That's a textbook case. Surely you realise what happened to him."

Regulus gave a small, jerking shrug.

"Reg," said Sirius, exasperated, "your Defence O.W.L. is one month away, and you can't even
recognise —"

"It can't be a broken Memory Charm!" said Regulus. "That's… It's impossible —"

"Yeah, sure sounds impossible," said Sirius sarcastically. He pocketed his wand and turned
away, as if to leave. Then he whirled around, swinging a fist at Regulus.

There was a crack as his fist met Regulus' jaw. Regulus cried out in pain and stumbled
backward, just managing to catch himself on his broomstick. He touched his jaw gingerly,
looking horrified at the blood on his fingertips. "Muggle brawling. Really classy, Sirius. You
—"
Sirius was unmoved. "Make better choices, Reg."

Regulus didn't respond; he worked his injured jaw carefully.

"Aren't you going to run to Slughorn?" asked Sirius. "I'll wait right here. You can tell him
your troubled older brother is bullying defenceless Slytherins. Again."

Regulus pulled out his wand. For a moment, Sirius thought Regulus was going to hex him;
instead, he touched the tip of his wand to his jaw and muttered a Cooling Charm.

"Are we done?" said Regulus at last.

"Eager to get back to your Death Eater friends, are you?"

"They don't hit me, at least."

"Right," said Sirius. "I'm sure they've never done anything to cause you harm. They say
Voldemort's about on par with the Dalai Lama, don't they?"

Regulus frowned, unsure of how to respond, and Sirius barked a laugh. Of course Regulus
didn't know who the Dalai Lama was. He'd never taken Muggle Studies.

When Severus saw Regulus the next day, a nasty bruise had bloomed on his jaw. The elder
Black's work, Mulciber claimed. Regulus' encounter with his older brother seemed to have
frayed his few remaining nerves: for the rest of the week, he couldn't so much as pass
Severus in the corridors without staring nervously at him.

This was obnoxious, but Severus had been through worse. He just needed Regulus to drink
the Veritaserum. So he pretended not to notice Regulus' obvious jumpiness while he counted
down the days until Saturday.

Unfortunately, Saturday evening took an agonisingly long time to come. Severus had a
particularly satisfying moment on Thursday, though, when Mulciber informed them that both
James Potter and Sirius Black had been given detention for hexing Avery with an unknown
curse.

Avery, for his part, was adjusting well to his new circumstances. He'd forgotten much of what
it meant to be a Hogwarts student, and as a result, he retained the wonder he'd had as an
eleven-year-old. Everything from the Great Hall to McGonagall's Animagus form caused him
to gasp in awe.

The downside was that his mental capacities also seemed to be that of an eleven-year-old. As
such, Severus and Evan Rosier had to do quite a lot of Avery's homework for him. Severus
didn't mind the extra work as much as he thought he would; it was his penance for breaking
Avery's mind in the first place.
Saturday night finally came, just when Severus was beginning to doubt it ever would. He
followed the others to Dungeon Thirteen and took a seat at the long table, directly across
from Regulus.

Regulus didn't seem surprised at the sight of the six glasses of clear liquid that had been
placed around the table. On the contrary, he sighed, looking resigned.

Severus narrowed his eyes. Regulus had long since mastered the basics of Occlumency; was
it possible Bella had given him additional lessons, the way she had Severus? That could
complicate matters.

Mulciber gave a long, droning speech about the ritual of Veritaserum that he probably
thought made him sound intelligent. Avery squirmed in his seat. After Mulciber finally
finished talking, he nodded towards Regulus, who swallowed his Veritaserum in one gulp. He
set the glass down carefully, as though afraid it would shatter. Mulciber followed suit, as did
the rest of the Followers.

The Veritaserum slid down Severus' throat easily. He had nothing to fear; he'd already
survived one such interrogation last year, during which he had had far more to lose. Not to
mention his Occlumency had been much poorer back then.

Mulciber directed his first question at Regulus. It was something utterly mundane about
Regulus' loyalty to his brother. Severus barely listened to Regulus' response, which was
predictably noncommittal. As Regulus asked Mulciber a reciprocal question — something
about Mulciber's insecurities — Severus focused on formulating his own question. It had to
be airtight. He couldn't afford to give Regulus any way out.

Evan Rosier was next to interrogate Regulus, followed by Wilfred Wilkes. Most of Regulus's
answers were actually very boring: it seemed like his whole existence revolved around being
noticed as little as possible.

There was a bit of a stir when Avery, giggling like a child, asked Regulus who he thought
was the fittest girl at Hogwarts. Regulus began to blush furiously before muttering something
that sounded suspiciously like "Lily Evans".

"Alright, calm down, Edmund," said Mulciber, smirking slightly. "Nothing to be ashamed of,
Regulus. Even Mudbloods can have their charms, and she's a wily one. Wouldn't you agree,
Severus?"

Severus rolled his eyes so hard he thought they'd fall out of his head. "I learned my lesson
last year. Lily Evans is more viper than witch — she'll sink her fangs into you just to see how
much it hurts when she lets go. She's an animal, like all Mudbloods." He shot Regulus a
pitiless smile. "Keep pining after her and you'll learn eventually."

Regulus' neck was red. "I do not — I do not pine…"

"My turn," said Severus. He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. "I saw
something quite interesting in poor Edmund's mind when I was attempting to undo your
brother's curse. Have you got any idea what it was?"
Regulus swallowed. "I'm not sure."

"Let me enlighten you," said Severus. "Someone had modified Edmund's memory. Poorly."

Regulus ducked his head, not meeting Severus' eyes. "That does sound interesting."

"That's not all," said Severus. "I was able to recover the memory."

At the head of the table, Mulciber gaped at him. "Potter and Black Obliviated Edmund?
When I get my hands on them —"

"The Obliviation was not their doing," said Severus. "That much became obvious as I viewed
the memory. In it, I saw exactly what Edmund had gotten up to the evening of Halloween."

That reveal had exactly the impact he had hoped for. Mulciber's eyes bulged out of their
sockets, while Rosier and Wilkes exchanged alarmed glances. Avery was not concerned at
all: he was playing with his own hands, humming to himself.

"Edmund found Sally Dearborn," continued Severus. "They were alone. He took advantage
of the opportunity to place a Full-Body Bind Curse on her. I think he planned to alert you,
Augustus, but he never got the chance. Would you like to know why?"

Mulciber was nearly salivating. "Go on."

"What I saw next changed everything," said Severus. "Regulus came up the stairs. He
confronted Edmund. He lifted the curse Edmund had placed on Sally and ordered her to
hide."

Severus turned to Regulus, who was staring at Severus as if seeing him for the first time. "Do
you deny this, Regulus?"

"I…" began Regulus. His knuckles were white where he gripped his glass. "Please. If you
knew…"

"He doesn't deny it," said Severus. "It is as I suspected. Sally Dearborn escaped, thanks to the
aid of one traitorous Regulus Black."

"I'm not a traitor," said Regulus automatically. "Edmund was going to… It wouldn't have
worked. That's why I… please, I —"

Severus met Mulciber's gaze and dipped his head respectfully. "Augustus. If I may. I would
like to peer into Regulus' mind. Veritaserum has weakened his mental defences — I think I
may be able to determine how and where he managed to hide Sally Dearborn."

Mulciber's lip curled. He looked hungrily at Regulus, the way a dog looked at a slab of meat.
"Be my guest."

"No," pleaded Regulus. "Severus, please, you don't know the whole story —"

"I will soon enough," replied Severus coldly.

Regulus looked towards the ceiling, as if he was praying. Severus drew his wand and pointed
it across the table. "Legilimens."

Peering into Regulus' mind was like being underwater in the depths of the ocean. Even under
Veritaserum, he resisted Severus' poking and prodding — or maybe that was just how
Regulus' mind was organised. There was no light from above, and the murky profundity
seemed to continue down, and down, to an unfathomable deepness. Severus thought he saw
the occasional shadow in the corner of his eye, but these always vanished upon closer
inspection.

It was hard to search these vast, empty depths. Surrounding him, pressing down on him like
many tonnes of water, was an overarching heaviness, a fear. As if at any moment he would be
swallowed into the belly of a beast.

Sally Dearborn, thought Severus, searching through the emptiness. Give me Sally Dearborn.

Something in the corner of Severus' eye caught his attention. He tried to swim closer,
ignoring the mounting terror that was surely Regulus' best defence against Legilimency. You
told her to hide. Where?

The murky depths of Regulus' mind pressed down on Severus with such heaviness that he
thought he might drown. He forced himself to continue, though he couldn't breathe, and
something enormous was coming closer, a gaping mouth —

He would surely drown, but there was no turning back. Severus dove into the mouth.

All at once, the pressure stopped. His surroundings grew lighter, and he caught a glimpse —

A dungeon corridor, lined with statues. Torches with snakes carved into the handles. A
painting.

"She's here," gasped Severus, pulling out of Regulus' mind. "In the dungeons."

"Where?" demanded Mulciber.

"I don't know." Severus rubbed his forehead. He'd never been one to explore the castle, and
even less so recently. "Some corridor. It looked like it was decorated with snakes —"

There was a crash. Regulus had stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. He glanced
desperately around the table, casting one last, imploring look at Severus. "Severus. I can
explain —"

"The time for explanations is over," said Mulciber. He drew his wand. "Take us to Sally
Dearborn."

Regulus stared at Mulciber's wand. Then he ducked.

Severus thought at first that Regulus was trying to avoid a spell, but then something heavy
collided with Severus' chair, nearly knocking him out of his seat. Regulus had flung himself
under the table and was crawling out from under it.
Severus drew his wand, but Regulus was out from under the table and across the room before
Severus could even get to his feet.

"Imperio," growled Mulciber as Regulus wrenched open the door to Dungeon Thirteen. But
Regulus darted into the corridor, and the curse blasted into the door's gilded frame.

The room was silent. Severus shifted in his seat, waiting for Mulciber's instructions.

When Mulciber spoke, he barked orders like a drill sergeant. "Into the dungeons, then,
what're you waiting for? Let's get her!" Wilkes cracked his knuckles, and Rosier nodded.

"We stick to our strengths," said Mulciber. "No fancy business this time. Unforgivables as
soon as we see her."

Avery's chin was trembling. "B-but what about Regulus?"

Mulciber advanced on Avery, his expression dark. "Regulus has betrayed us." He looked at
each of the Followers in turn. "Make sure he suffers the same fate as Sally."

When James arrived at the hospital wing for detention, the infirmary was blessedly empty,
save for Lily. She was perched atop Madam Pomfrey's desk, perusing a small book with a
paper cover and blindingly white pages. Some sort of Muggle novel.

"Alright, Lily?" said James. He nearly stuttered as her name tripped off his tongue. He still
wasn't used to this whole first-name-basis thing.

Lily marked her place and shut the book. "Hi. You're late."

"Erm," he said. "Sorry." Why couldn't he think of something clever to say?

Lily shrugged. "Don't worry about it. If you could strip and replace the bed linens, that would
be lovely."

Lovely. "Sure," he said, starting on the first bed. "Where's Poppy gone off to? Having tea?"

"She doesn't work on Saturday evenings," said Lily, returning to her book.

"Poppy taking time off? That's new."

"Yes, well." Patches of red bloomed on her cheeks. "She seems to think I'm capable of
holding the fort a few hours a week."

"Godric's balls." James flung a set of dirty linens into a heap in the middle of the infirmary
and started on the next bed. "You must be really good at Healing. She wouldn't trust just
anyone to…" he trailed off. Lily's face had turned as red as her hair. For some reason, that
made him feel embarrassed.

"Oh," said Lily, "I'm not… I mean, yes, but…"

"Yeah," said James quickly. "I'm sure she lets all her apprentices have a go at running the
infirmary. That's great." He began to noisily remove a pillowcase to avoid having to say
anything else. Lily probably didn't feel like having a chat. She'd brought a book, after all.

To his surprise, Lily spoke a few minutes later. "How're you getting on, then?"

"Oh, spiffing," said James. He tossed a greying blanket into the growing pile of linens. "Only
a few beds left to strip, now."

"I meant with — you know." She sounded unusually hesitant. "How're you coping? After
what happened on the train?"

"Ah," said James. He wished she were referring to anything else. He would rather have told
her the details of his breakup with Parvana. "I'm good, yeah. Took some potions for about a
week, and I was right as rain."

"That's good," said Lily.

"Yeah. It's good."

The hospital wing was suddenly far too quiet. He tried shaking out the last of the dirty linens,
but that didn't help. "How're — how're you?"

Lily slid off the desk. "I'm alright." She looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she bent
to pick up an armful of the dirty linens.

"Oh — really, don't mind," said James. "You don't have to help."

"It's no trouble," said Lily, dragging the linens over to the large, battered copper cauldron in
the corner. "If it gets us both out of here —"

There was a bang. The doors to the hospital wing flew open, and a tall, dark-haired figure
came sprinting in. "Oi!" said James. He'd thought Sirius was supposed to be in detention —

Lily's mouth fell open. She dropped the linens into the sink. "Regulus? What happened to
your face?"

Regulus Black skidded to a halt, breathing hard. "Sirius punched me, but I deserved it,
because I told Slughorn that he and Potter had cursed Avery, but that was a lie, because I
didn't want anyone to find out about… something... But now they all know anyway, so that's
why I came."

James was surprised at the number of words that had just tumbled out of Regulus' mouth.
Wasn't he supposed to be the quiet one of the Blacks?
Lily frowned. "You're flushed. Are you feeling okay?"

"No," said Regulus. "I took Veritaserum."

"Veritaserum? Regulus, why —"

"Unimportant. Lily. I need — help. Can you come. Please."

Lily hesitated. "Now? I'm in the middle of overseeing…"

Regulus glanced at James, wearing the same dismissive expression he'd so often seen on
Sirius' face. "Potter? Leave him. We have to go."

Something unspoken seemed to pass between them. Lily's eyes widened. "Of course. Should
I — is there anything I should bring?"

"No time," said Regulus. "We have to go. Now."

Lily turned to James, pained. "Look, just — just finish washing the linens, alright? I'll be
back soon."

"You can't go off alone with him," said James, drawing his wand. "I'm coming too."

"No," said Lily. "It's nothing to do with you. Stay here."

"He's part of Mulciber's gang. You can't trust him."

She bit her lip. "I —"

"Lily," said Regulus. "There's no time."

She drew in a breath. "I'm sorry," she told James. "Stay. Here."

The doors of the hospital wing slammed shut behind them.

James immediately tried the handle. He swore loudly. The doors had been bolted shut.

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out the two-way mirror. "Sirius Black," he
muttered. Nothing happened.

"Sirius Black, damn it," said James. "Sirius Orion Black —"

Sirius' face swam into view. He appeared to be holding the mirror at an odd angle; all James
could see was his neck and chin. "Yeah?" whispered Sirius. "Quickly, Slughorn just left his
office, but he'll be back any minute. Had to explode one of his bottles of Ogden's Oldest to
get him to step out —"

"Listen," said James urgently. "Your brother just burst into my detention with Evans, said he
needed her help. And then they took off. Any idea why?"
Sirius' mouth twisted into a frown. "I haven't the faintest. Think he fancies her, but... he's not
the type to convince her to skive off her prefect duties just for a snog. Can't you follow them
on the Map?"

"Oh — right," said James. He scrambled to pull it out of his bag.

"Anything?" asked Sirius.

James scanned the Map. "Well, they're in the dungeons, though that's not too surprising —"
He broke off. "Oh. Shit."

In the mirror, Sirius frowned. "What?"

Maybe what he'd seen had been a trick of the light. James hurriedly cleaned his glasses, then
put them back on. The map hadn't changed. "Shit. I've got to go, Pads."

Sirius' voice was sharp. "James. What the hell is going on —"

James shoved the mirror into his bag and drew his wand before Sirius had even finished
talking. There was no time for something as fiddly as Alohomora, so he sent a Reductor
Curse at the infirmary doors, which were blasted clean off their hinges.

He cast one last hurried glance at the map. Just in case what he'd seen earlier was a mistake, a
trick of the light. Which was looking less and less likely by the second.

The dots labelled 'Lily Evans' and 'Regulus Black' were still in the dungeon corridor.
Emerging from the wall, joining them, was a third, impossible dot. But its label was clear and
unmistakable, and the Map never lied.

Sally Dearborn.
 Salazar's Corridor

Lily struggled to keep up with Regulus as he hurried down the wide, marble staircase and
across the Entrance Hall. He sprinted towards the dungeons, heedless of the students who
scurried out of his way. The Aurors that stood guard at the castle doors stiffened, like hounds
catching a scent.

Lily slowed her pace. She gestured at the badge affixed to her robes. "Just prefect business!"
she called, hoping she sounded suitably unconcerned. "Nothing to worry about…"

The Aurors relaxed, exchanging glances. Relieved, Lily turned towards Regulus, but he was
nowhere in sight.

Her heart pounded in her chest, urging her to hurry. Aware that the Aurors were still watching
her, she forced herself to stroll casually yet purposefully towards the door that led to the
dungeons.

Regulus was waiting a short distance ahead of her, shifting from foot to foot. As soon as she
reached him, he broke into a run. "Come on."

She jogged behind him. "Where are we going?"

"Salazar's Corridor," he replied, not slowing his pace. He was obviously much more familiar
with the dungeons than she was; he turned down one corridor after another without
hesitation.

After traversing the dungeons for at least fifteen minutes, during which she became
increasingly lost, the corridor split off in two directions. Regulus took the left-hand corridor,
and his pace slowed. "Good," he said. "They're not here yet."

The only light in the dim corridor came from wall-mounted torches with snakes carved into
the handles. Even so, Lily recognised their surroundings at once. The corridor was lined with
statues, all depicting the same man, and a large painting hung on the wall at the end.

Inside the painting, the young Salazar Slytherin looked up from a star chart and watched
them approach, eyes narrowed.

"Regulus," said Lily hesitantly. "What — what're we doing here?"

Regulus didn't appear to have heard. He continued past each of the statues until he had
reached the portrait at the end of the corridor. Inside the painting, the young Salazar Slytherin
actually leaned towards him, listening intently to what he had to say.

"Change of plans," Regulus muttered.

The young Salazar looked past Regulus, at Lily. "What is she doing here?"
"You can trust her," said Regulus. "She's here to help."

"You told her? I thought we agreed, nobody can know but —"

"Things have changed," snapped Regulus. "Mulciber knows you're here, and he intends to
kill us both."

That was news to Lily. "Erm, sorry," she said. "But what the hell is going on?"

Young Salazar smirked at Lily, then turned back to Regulus. "So you haven't told her."

"There wasn't time," said Regulus. "We have to go. I'm going to bring you out."

He touched his wand to the canvas and muttered an incantation that sounded strangely
melodic. Inside the painting, the young Salazar Slytherin grew sharper and more defined,
until he looked hyperrealistic, more like a photograph than a painting. There was a speck of
dirt under one of his fingernails, and even the individual threads that embroidered his robes
were visible; Lily could have counted every hair on his blonde head.

The canvas began to bubble. A pale hand emerged from the painting and grabbed onto the
frame. Then the young Salazar, now flesh and blood, tumbled onto the stone floor of the
dungeon.

Regulus steadied him. "Easy, now. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Five months, three weeks, and four days," muttered the young Salazar. He drew a wand
from his robes and passed it across his face. Immediately, his pointed features began to
soften. His heavy brow receded, his hooked nose straightened and shrunk, and his jaw grew
distinctly rounder, more feminine —

Lily's mouth fell open. It couldn't be. "Sally?"

"Hello, Lily," said Sally Dearborn.

Without the charms disguising her features, she looked awful; her cheeks were sunken, and
her normally bright hair was dull and plastered to her head. She looked like she'd been
imprisoned.

Sally turned to Regulus. "How much time have we got?"

"Minutes, probably," said Regulus. "Mulciber and his gang know you're somewhere in the
dungeons. This corridor is hard to find, though, and I don't think they've ever been here."

Sally nodded shortly. "Are you on good terms with them?"

Regulus barked a laugh, which startled Lily: he sounded so much like Sirius. "Severus used
Legilimency on me against my will. Draw your own conclu—"

Footsteps sounded at the end of the corridor.

"Shh!" said Sally, and Regulus stopped talking at once. "Someone's coming." She drew her
wand and motioned for Lily and Regulus to do the same.

"Regulus, stun them as soon as you have visual," she whispered. "Lily, cast a Shield Charm.
I'm going to collapse the ceiling."

The sound of footsteps grew louder, echoing off the stone walls.

"On my count," said Sally. "Three… two…"

A blur of black robes and brown skin sprinted into the corridor.

"WAIT!" cried Lily, and she forced Regulus' arm down. His Stunning Spell went wide,
blasting the head off one of the Salazar statues. "It's alright," she said. "It's James Potter, it's
alright…"

James caught the marble head and tossed it back to Regulus. "Careful, Reg," he said amiably.

"I told you to stay put," said Lily.

"True," said James. "And I would have — love folding linens, you know — except I thought
you lot would like to know that there's a gang of about five Slytherins heading your way.
Should be here in, say" — he pulled an old piece of parchment out of his pocket and glanced
at it — "three minutes."

"That's plenty of time," said Sally. "Potter, was it?"

"That's right," said James gamely. His eyes slid past Sally as if he was completely oblivious
to the state she was in, and he began to contemplate the torches on the wall. "If it'll help, I can
turn these into actual snakes in about thirty seconds."

Regulus blanched. "They can't see me here with you all. They'll — they're going to —"

"I know," said Sally. "It's alright. Show me how to put you into that painting. Lily — you're
decent at Charms, aren't you? Can you make him look more like Salazar?"

Lily bristled — she was a good bit better than 'decent', after all — but it obviously wasn't the
moment to argue her Charms prowess. She pulled out her wand obediently and ran it through
Regulus' hair until straight blonde locks tumbled over his shoulders and down his back.

In the meantime, Regulus explained to Sally how the spell for the painting worked. It
sounded terribly complicated, though Sally seemed to have no problems following his
explanation.

As Lily finished enlarging Regulus' nose, the back of her neck prickled. James was watching
her steadily.

"What?" she asked.

He nodded appreciatively at Regulus' new appearance. "You're better than decent at Charms."
"I know," she said. "So are you, apparently."

"How d'you mean?"

"Well, how did you find us?" He must have used some sort of tracking charm that she didn't
know about.

"Erm," said James, "would you believe me if I told you it was a hunch?"

Lily narrowed her eyes. "No."

"Right, well, never mind then," he said breezily.

Regulus put his hand to the canvas, and Sally began to recite the incantation he had taught
her. As she spoke, the paint began to bubble, and Regulus' hand melted into the canvas.

Regulus took a deep breath and climbed into the frame headfirst. His body dissolved into
dark, gooey puddles of paint that oozed across the canvas. The wet globs of colour swirled as
if mixed by an invisible brush, blending with the earthy brown hues of the painting to form
entirely new colours: swaths of pale yellow and emerald green, with the occasional dash of
grey. Slowly, Regulus' painted form took shape. As the last of the paint dried, he began to
move.

"It worked," he said, sounding somewhat surprised. He lifted his chin in a passable imitation
of Salazar Slytherin. "How do I look?"

"Brilliant," said James, whose nose was nearly touching the canvas as he examined the
painting. "You need to teach me how to do this, I can think of so many uses — the Fat Lady
for one, I've always wanted to get my hands on the wine she and Violet —"

"Save it, Potter," said Sally, cutting him off. "Regulus, good work. We'll get you out, after… "

She broke off. The pounding of footsteps echoed through the dungeons, growing steadily
louder. Sally raised her wand and snuffed out the flames of the torches on the walls.
Darkness, heavy and complete, settled over them.

The footsteps stopped abruptly at the entrance to the corridor.

"This is it," muttered a voice. Severus, thought Lily. She tightened her grip on her wand.

"Are you sure?" said another voice. "It's pitch black, can't see a thing —"

"Ooh, I know, I know!" said a childish, yet strangely familiar voice. "Lumos."

A flickering yellow light filled the corridor. Edmund Avery was standing, wand lit, beside
Mulciber and two seventh-year Slytherins. Lily tried to remember their names — Wilkes and
Rosier, weren't they? And lurking behind Mulciber, looking batlike in his oversized robes,
was Severus Snape.
Nobody moved. The Slytherins stared at Sally as if they couldn't quite believe what they were
seeing.

Avery nudged Mulciber. "Augustus, that's Sally!" He was attempting to whisper, but his voice
was still loud enough to carry down the entire corridor. "Sally Dearborn! Are we going to kill
her, Augustus?"

Sally's wand was trained on Mulciber. There was venom in her voice as she spoke. "I would
love to see you try."

Severus stepped cautiously around Mulciber. His lip curled at the sight of James, but when he
spoke, he addressed Lily. "We don't want to fight," he said slowly. "Hand over Dearborn and
we'll let you go. Nobody has to be hurt."

Lily gripped her wand so tightly her knuckles went white. "You've got some nerve. As if I
would ever let you put your greasy hands on Sally."

"Charming," said Severus drily. "I assume you'll allow me the courtesy of asking a question,
at the very least? How did you find her?"

"I'm not telling you that."

He took a few steps towards her. "Is Regulus here?"

"No." She kept her eyes trained on a point just above Severus' head. He needed eye contact to
do his mind magic, didn't he? She couldn't let him figure out the trick with the painting.

"Lily —"

She darted forward, slashing her wand through the air. "STUPEFY!"

Severus' eyes widened. The jet of red light knocked him off his feet; he flew backwards and
collapsed in a senseless heap on the ground.

Wilkes and Rosier glanced at each other, drawing their wands reluctantly.

"What are you waiting for?" growled Mulciber. "Get them!"

At once, the corridor erupted in a blinding flash of light as a barrage of spells streaked
towards Lily, James, and Sally. Lily dove, and a jet of silver light missed her by inches. She
smacked her knee hard against the floor and rolled, aiming her wand at Avery. "Depul —"

A hand hauled her up by her robes just as a spell blasted into the statue next to her, shattering
it into pieces. "Protego!" said James' voice in her ear, and the bits of broken statue clattered
harmlessly to the floor.

Lily scrambled to her feet, preparing to dodge another hex, but none came: the Slytherins'
spells were ricocheting off James' Shield Charm, which was large enough to fill most of the
corridor.
"Ha!" said James triumphantly as the Slytherins sent hex after useless hex towards them.
"You like that?"

"James," said Lily, "maybe now's not the time to antagonise —"

"Nah, it's fine," said James. He picked a marble arm off the floor and waved it at the
Slytherins. "Let's see your best shot, go on, then…"

Mulciber's features contorted with hatred. The dim light carved shadows under his eyes. For a
moment, Lily was back on the Hogwarts Express, transfixed by the inhuman face of the
Reaper.

Mulciber took aim at Sally. "Avada Kedavra."

A jet of green light streaked towards them. Lily screamed. There was nowhere to hide in this
narrow corridor, and Sally wasn't trying to hide, anyway, she was stepping in front of Lily
and James with her wand drawn, her eyes hard and fierce —

At the last possible instant, her wand hand twitched, and something round and white, like a
large boulder, hurtled towards the Slytherins.

The marble head from the ruined statue collided with the jet of green light, and the corridor
exploded.

The force of the blast flung Lily off her feet. Shards of stone and white marble flew in all
directions — one narrowly missed her eye, stinging her skin as it grazed her cheek. Her head
knocked hard against the stone wall, and she cried out in pain as she was thrown to the
ground. Her wand clattered out of her hand.

A wave of heat from rushed over her, so intense she thought the hair would singe from her
head — the air was thick with dust and debris, she couldn't breathe —

A nearby voice coughed weakly. Lily forced herself to open her eyes, ignoring the throbbing
pain in her head. James was on the floor beside her, covered in soot but not seriously injured.
And Sally — Lily looked around frantically, pushing herself up —

"Stay down!" ordered Sally. She was still on her feet, her teeth bared as she pushed back
against the force of the blast. She made an upward motion with her wand, and the pile of
marble shards at her feet pieced themselves back together, forming the marble head of
Salazar Slytherin. Another swipe of her wand, and the head barrelled towards the group of
Slytherins at the opposite end of the corridor. Like Muggle bowling, Lily thought wildly.

The marble head smashed into Wilkes' face. He stumbled, then slumped to the ground,
bleeding profusely from his nose. Avery let out a high-pitched scream, then dropped his wand
and fled the corridor, Evan Rosier at his heels.

As soon as Avery's wand clattered to the floor, the light coming from its tip was extinguished,
and the corridor was plunged into darkness once more.

"Incendio," said Sally in a low voice, and the torches on the wall flickered to life.
Only Mulciber remained at the far end of the corridor, standing over the limp forms of
Severus and Wilkes.

"Drop your wand, Mulciber," commanded Sally.

Mulciber's lips curled over his teeth. "Or else what?"

With a sweeping wand movement, Sally sent a spell at him, which he parried. At Mulciber's
feet, Severus stirred.

He's awake, thought Lily. Reflexively, she reached for her wand, but it wasn't there. In a
panic, she began to sift through the rubble.

James crawled towards Lily. He was bleeding; debris from the explosion had cut him badly
across the jaw. "Alright, Lily?"

"My — my wand —"

James looked around. "Oh — there it is, let me —" He staggered to his feet.

As James bent to pick up her wand, Severus' eyes flickered open, gleaming like polished
onyx in the dim light. He immediately looked at Lily, and it took everything she had not to
scream at him, to shout that this was where his curiosity had led him, to a ruined corridor and
injured students, and it was a lucky thing they weren't all dead —

Perhaps Severus sensed her anger, because he glanced away quickly, taking in the destroyed
corridor. Mulciber and Sally had begun to duel, though Mulciber was clearly outmatched —

"There you go," said James. He was standing above Lily, holding her wand.

"Ah," she said. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He ran a hand through his hair, as though making sure it wasn't too tidy.
The gesture was so ridiculous that Lily laughed.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." How could she explain it? He was covered in soot, and his robes were torn in
several places, but he still thought he needed to muss his hair. It was almost endearing. "You
just…"

She sensed movement out of the corner of her eye and trailed off. Severus was watching
them. His face twisted with disgust, and he reached inside his robes for his wand, which he
pointed at James. His mouth moved.

"No," cried Lily, "Sev, NO —"

The curse hit James in the centre of his chest. A dark, crimson stain bloomed across his
robes, growing larger by the second, staining his torso, his arms —
James looked down, mouth slightly open. Then he toppled over, Lily's wand clattering from
his hand.

Lily's senses dulled, and then sharpened. She was an apprentice Healer. She knew how to
handle herself in an emergency.

She scrambled towards James' limp form, heedless of the spells that were shooting past her,
heedless of Sally, who was screaming at Severus and Mulciber. She could heal him, she
could, she could — there was no room for doubt in Healing, not when someone's life
depended on you —

James' breaths were coming short and shallow. His eyes had glazed over, and there was so
much blood. Her wand, she needed her wand —

She snatched her wand up off the floor and used it to cut his robes away. There were several
deep gouges across James' chest and torso. Her vision swam; she forced herself to take
several slow breaths.

Healer Fenwick's voice echoed, sing-songy, in her mind. Air goes in and out. Blood goes
round and round. Any variation on this is bad.

She touched her wand to the deepest cut and began to murmur the countercurse that would
knit him back together. The wound resisted her efforts, but she continued, focusing on the
incantation, on the magic that flowed from her wand to his skin. There was so much damage.

James' eyelids were half-closed as he stared at something beyond Lily. He was trembling. She
took his hand.

The gash began to close. She gave his hand a squeeze and let go; she'd need both hands to
knit his skin back together, one to cast from her wand and one to control the flow of magic.
As careful as she was, when she had finished there was still a pale, raised line running along
the length of his chest, contrasting with his skin. Some curses left scars.

She started on the next cut, which ran from the hollow of his armpit to his abdomen. The
corridor was quiet, except for her songlike incantation and James' ragged breath. She was
vaguely aware that the fighting had stopped; Sally was binding Mulciber and Severus in
conjured ropes.

The next cut. The next scar. James was no longer shaking, but neither did he look any more
alert. His eyelids kept drifting shut. She paused just long enough to gently shake his shoulder.

"Stay awake," she said. "You can't go to sleep yet."

"'M tired," muttered James.

"I know. But you have to stay awake for me. Alright?"

James moaned.
The last cut stretched from his collarbone to the base of his neck. The scar would be visible
above the neckline of his robes.

Sally knelt beside her as she closed the final scar. "He's lost a lot of blood. I don't know if
he'll make it to the hospital wing for a Blood-Replenishing Potion —"

"I've got one with me," said Lily, and she suddenly felt very grateful for Healer Fenwick's
foresight.

"Where? I'll get it for you."

"In my bag," said Lily. "It's the dark red potion in the inner pocket."

Sally obliged, and Lily took James' hand. "I'm going to give you more blood," she told him,
not sure if he was capable of understanding her. "But to do that, you have to wake up enough
to swallow a potion. Can you do that for me?"

James moaned quietly. Lily took that as a 'yes' and dragged him into a sitting position,
propping him against the wall.

"Open your mouth for me," she said. James' mouth was slack, but she wasn't sure if that was
because he had heard her or because he was barely conscious. She touched his jaw gently to
open his mouth, avoiding the cut on his chin, which continued to ooze.

Then she unstoppered the potion and placed a drop of dark red liquid on his tongue.

"Swallow," she said, and she helped him close his mouth. "That's it. Let's do that again."

She gave him one drop at a time until the phial was nearly empty. James didn't look any more
alert; on the contrary, his skin had turned an ashen grey.

Sally stopped her from giving him the last of the potion. "Try a Gemino Charm," she said,
indicating the contents of the phial.

"Will that work?"

"It should. Not as well as if you had more Blood-Replenishing Potions — the effect of the
charm will be weaker every time you cast it — but in a pinch, it'll do."

Lily muttered a Gemino Charm and the phial filled to the brim with crimson liquid, only
slightly more watery than the original potion had been. She gave James drop after drop, and
when the phial was nearly empty, she cast another Gemino Charm and repeated the process.
She did this again and again: each time, the phial filled with a lighter colour of potion, as if it
was being diluted with water.

A voice in the back of Lily's head wondered what would happen when the Gemino Charm no
longer worked. "He'll be okay," she responded out loud, ignoring the strange look Sally gave
her. Lily wasn't sure how much of the potion James would need, how much blood he had lost,
but he was going to be okay, he had to be —
Halfway through the fourth phial, James began to swallow the potion on his own, and Lily
dared to give him more than just a drop at a time. After the fifth phial, a hint of colour
returned to his lips. After the seventh phial, he opened his eyes.

"James?" asked Lily.

"Mmm?"

"How're you feeling?"

"Better," rasped James. "I was… so tired… But I feel better now."

"Good. How would you rate your pain, out of seven?"

James considered this. "Four."

"Four is good." She resisted the urge to collapse onto the floor with relief. He's alive. He's
going to be okay.

James looked at Sally. "You're alright, then?"

"Of course I am," said Sally. She sounded confident, but privately Lily thought she looked
worse than ever. She was covered in dirt and debris from the explosion; combined with her
malnourishment and unwashed hair, she looked like she had just crawled out of the sewers.

"I'm glad," said James. "What do we do now?"

Sally glanced at the portrait of Salazar, clearly calculating. A blond Regulus stared worriedly
back at her. Though the canvas had been torn in several places, Regulus himself was
unharmed.

"We'll come back for you," Sally told Regulus. He nodded, looking resigned. "In the
meantime, I think Slughorn needs to know what his students have been up to. We'll take them
to his office."

She gestured at Mulciber, Severus, and an unconscious Wilkes, who had all been bound
together. Mulciber's mouth was moving, but no sound came out; Sally must have magically
silenced them. Severus was glaring daggers at Sally, though he didn't bother with trying to
speak.

"And after that?" asked James. "Are you just going to waltz into Gryffindor Tower and have a
nice, long sleep in your bed like nothing's happened?"

Sally didn't smile. "No. First, I…" She hesitated. "I suppose I should tell my father that I'm
alive."

"Oh," said James. "I can help with that, actually." He groped for his bag, which was several
feet away from him, and pulled it towards him by the strap. "Sirius Black," he said, pulling
out a small hand mirror.
Lily supposed she shouldn't be surprised by anything James did anymore, but she couldn't
help but raise her eyebrows as Sirius' face appeared in the mirror.

"Finally," said Sirius. "Prongs, why're you're covered in — tell me that's not your own blood.
Holy —"

"Everyone's alright," said James. "Including me. Listen. Can you get in touch with your
friend from the Order?"

Sirius' eyes widened. "I mean, technically, yes. But she said to only contact her in an
emergency —"

James gestured to his blood-soaked robes. "What do you think this is, genius? Tell her that
Caradoc Dearborn needs to come to Hogwarts as soon as possible."

"Dearborn? Why would —"

"Sally's alive," said James. He angled the mirror at Sally so that Sirius could see.

Sirius let out a string of Muggle expletives that Lily had never heard used in that particular
order. "You're joking, Prongs. How did you — why are you —"

"I'll explain later."

"You'd better," said Sirius. "Alright. I'll let Dorcas know, as long as you promise not to get
yourself killed in the meantime. Fucking arsebugger, James..." Still muttering odd curses to
himself, he faded from the mirror.

Sally scowled at James. "I was planning on sending my father an owl."

"Come off it," said James. "An owl? He's your dad. I'm sure he's been worried sick. When he
finds out that you're alive, nothing in the world is going to stop him from seeing you."

Sally looked sceptical, but she settled for waving her wand at the bound Slytherins, making
them levitate slightly off the ground. "Let's go, then. We need to get both of you to the
hospital wing."

Lily decided it best not to point out that months of confinement had left Sally in far worse
shape than either she or James. Although James wasn't exactly the picture of health, either: he
swayed a little as he stood up from the floor.

"Careful!" said Lily, steadying him.

"'M alright," said James, blinking owlishly. "Little lightheaded… can't really see much…"

"That'll be the blood loss," said Lily. "Go slowly, alright?"

She cast a backward glance at the portrait of Salazar — Regulus lifted a hand in farewell —
and helped James through the dungeons, Sally leading the way.
When they reached Professor Slughorn's office, Sally rapped on the door, but there was no
response.

"Is he asleep, d'you think?" asked James, who was leaning rather heavily on Lily.

Sally shrugged and deposited the bound Slytherins on the floor outside the office. "If he is,
they'll just have to wait here until morning."

"What if someone comes along, though, and cuts them loose?" asked Lily.

"Impossible," said Sally dismissively. "I tied the ropes using Gordion's Curse. I expect even
Slughorn will have trouble getting them free."

After the Slytherins were taken care of, Lily and James followed Sally out of the dungeons. It
was slow going, as both James and Sally needed to stop frequently to rest. Sally seemed to
have an especially hard time climbing the staircase that led to the Entrance Hall. She was
breathing heavily as she reached the top, as if she'd been winded. It occurred to Lily that
taking the stairs might be the most exercise Sally had had in months.

As soon as they emerged in the Entrance Hall, several passing students began to stare. Even
the Aurors who were guarding the oak doors glanced their way, alarmed. Lily supposed they
were quite a sight: she and James were covered in blood and dirt, while Sally resembled
nothing so much as a half-starved prisoner.

Sally ignored the dozens of pairs of eyes that were on her; she climbed the marble staircase
stiffly, her back ramrod straight.

At the first floor landing, they were met by a flurry of tartan robes. Professor McGonagall
approached them nearly at a sprint. "There you are," she said. "Professor Slughorn told me —
Sirius Black said something about —" she drew up short, staring at Sally.

Sally raised her chin. "Hello, Professor."

It seemed Professor McGonagall was not prepared for the state Sally was in. Behind her
glasses, her eyes grew momentarily misty. "Miss Dearborn," she said, her voice thick. "I am
so glad to see you again." She sniffed, pulling herself together, and turned towards Lily and
James. "And as for you two — Potter, is that blood…?"

"Yeah, but it's mine and I'm alright, so don't worry," said James. "You should tell Slughorn
that there's a bunch of Slytherins tied up outside his office, though."

"Tied up? Potter, surely even you —"

"We had no choice," said Sally. "I couldn't take any chances, not after one of them cast the
Killing Curse."

Professor McGonagall's mouth fell slightly open. "Miss Dearborn, such an accusation is very
grave. You're certain of this?"
"I was the target," said Sally. "Cast Priori Incantatem on Augustus Mulciber's wand if you
need confirmation."

"You — the target…" Professor McGonagall faltered. "Miss Dearborn, where have you
been?"

"It's a long story," said Sally. "I'd rather only tell it once."

"I see," said Professor McGonagall. "In that case. May I ask you three to accompany me to
the Headmaster's office?"

Sally nodded. She tilted her head upward, considering the many towering staircases that led
to the seventh floor. Then she began to climb, one careful step at a time.

Lily and James exchanged a look and followed suit.

James had to give Professor Dumbledore credit; the old man hadn't even blinked when Sally
Dearborn walked into his office like a ghost from ages past. In fact, Dumbledore had taken
one look at the three of them, waved his wand, and conjured out of nowhere three
comfortable armchairs, a tea tray, and a blazing hearthfire.

"I am interested to know where you have been since October, Miss Dearborn," said
Dumbledore. He had waited until they nearly had their fill of tea and scones to begin talking.
Beside him, Professor McGonagall was considerably more impatient; every time James
reached for another scone, she sighed loudly, tapping her fingers on the desk.

Sally was on her fourth scone and showed no sign of slowing down. "Well," she said around
a mouthful of scone, "My father began to suspect over the summer that I would become a
political target. Between his work at the Department of International Magical Cooperation,
and — our family history… My mum, you know…"

She trailed off. James shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn't imagine what it was like
to have a dead mum, much less a mum who was murdered for being a Muggle. He made a
mental note to hug his own mother extra tight the next time he saw her.

Dumbledore nodded. "Your mother was a wonderful woman who was taken from her family
far too soon."

"She was," said Sally firmly, as if she expected someone to suggest otherwise. "But given
what the Knights of Walpurgis did to her… and given the Muggle-born Protection Act that
my father wrote…"

"It seems fair to assume that you thought yourself at risk," said Dumbledore.
"Yes," said Sally, who seemed torn between maintaining her decorum and scarfing down
another scone. "But that's nothing new. My father and I had several close calls with the Death
Eaters growing up. You know about that, of course," she added. Dumbledore inclined his
head to show he understood.

"I'm not completely helpless," continued Sally. "Never have been. My father's been training
me, you know, ever since my mum…" She shook her head a little. "Anyway. We knew that
the Muggle-born Protection Act would make us a target. When I returned to Hogwarts in
September, I was prepared to be attacked. And I was."

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed behind her glasses. "When?"

"In September," responded Sally. "Term had just started. It was during our first Hogsmeade
weekend. I —"

She broke off. The fire in the hearth flared brightly. Tall, emerald green flames licked
upwards, and green sparks shot across the hearth, landing on the plush rug. A head appeared
in the fire, followed by a set of broad shoulders, and —

Caradoc Dearborn stepped into the room. He was an enormous man, as tall and broad as
Sally was short and slender. As he straightened, his head nearly scraped the ceiling. He could
have been Hagrid's cousin, though Hagrid was all bushy hair and rounded body. Caradoc, on
the other hand, was as muscled as a gorilla. He looked dangerous.

"My daughter," he bellowed, looking wildly about the room. "Albus, I was told that my
daughter —" He caught sight of Sally, with her dirtied face and torn robes, and the words
died in his mouth.

Sally stood immediately, facing Caradoc the way one would a drill sergeant. James half-
expected her to salute. "Father."

Caradoc made an odd, abrupt gesture, as if he were about to embrace her but thought better of
it. Instead, he said sternly, "What was your mother's favourite fruit?"

James looked at Lily, at a loss. Was this some sort of weird Muggle greeting he had never
heard of? Lily shrugged, clearly as confused as he was.

"Plums," said Sally. "We had a plum tree in the garden that she loved."

Caradoc's eyes grew misty. "My daughter," he said throatily. "It is you." And he knelt,
enveloping her in an embrace.

Sally stiffened, as if unaccustomed to being touched. After a moment, she hugged him back.
Beside Dumbledore's desk, Professor McGonagall wiped her eyes.

"What happened?" said Caradoc Dearborn, drawing back. "Dorcas received a tip from one of
her sources, but nobody at the Order could say —"

"It's a long story," said Sally. For the first time, her steely exterior wavered; she seemed
nearly on the verge of tears as she looked at her father.
Dumbledore tactfully conjured a large armchair for Caradoc to sit in. "Miss Dearborn was
just explaining the events that led to her disappearance in October."

"Yes," said Sally. "As I was saying. In September, I was attacked in Hogsmeade — I sent you
an owl about that," she added with a glance at her father, who nodded. "I fought off my
attackers, but they tried again the next month. On Halloween."

Caradoc's expression was murderous. "Who are these attackers you speak of?"

"Augustus Mulciber — he's in Slytherin," said Sally. "He's got a gang he goes round with, but
I think he's the leader. The others are — prefects and things. They're not nearly as sadistic as
he is."

Professor McGonagall frowned. "You think Mulciber was intentionally targeting you?
Because of your father's politics?"

"The first time, in Hogsmeade, I wasn't sure," said Sally. "Mulciber's got a long habit of
hexing Gryffindors for sport. But then I noticed him watching me. Like he was planning. And
then, on Halloween, they cornered me again."

Sally took a deep breath, clenching her fists. "I got away. Again. But I knew they wouldn't
stop. So I disguised myself, and I hid — inside a painting. There's a spell for it. I'm sorry for
being gone for so long," she said tearfully, turning to her father. "I was going to come back at
the end of the year, to sit for my N.E.W.T.s, I thought it would be safer — I didn't mean to
make you afraid, I'm sorry —"

Caradoc clasped her small hand in his meaty ones. "You did everything right," he said. "You
followed your training perfectly. If there is a threat to your life, you must do everything you
can to ensure your safety. Even if you must hide from those you love most."

"So you've been hiding in a painting since October," said Dumbledore, and Sally nodded. "I
am not familiar with that particular spell. Very ingenious — it explains why we have had
such a difficult time locating you. You said you were planning to reemerge during N.E.W.T.s
— what happened tonight to change those plans?"

Sally hesitated. "Lily and James came to the corridor where I was hiding. I'd seen Lily there a
few times before — I think she had been trying to find me. I revealed myself to them, and
they told me that Mulciber was on his way with his gang — that he was going to attack me.
So I came out of the portrait, and they defended me against the Slytherins. They saved my
life."

Well, that was a stretch, in James' opinion. Sally had done the bulk of the fighting, after all.
And she hadn't even mentioned Regulus.

Dumbledore turned to James and Lily. "Is this true?"

"Yes, sir," said Lily before James could respond.

"If that's the case, then you have done Hogwarts — and myself — a great service," said
Professor Dumbledore. "Not only have you rescued Sally Dearborn, but you have surely
saved her life as well."

"Er," said James, "That's a bit of a —"

"Thank you very much, Professor," said Lily, giving James a warning look.

Dumbledore continued. "I am tempted to award House points, but I am afraid such a trivial
gesture would undermine the depths of gratitude I feel."

"I mean," said James, "I wouldn't say no to a few hundred extra points. Gryffindor's aiming
for second place this year…"

Professor Dumbledore chuckled.

Tears were flowing freely down Sally's cheeks. "I'm so sorry for not telling you, Father.
Mulciber — he was using Unforgivables, I couldn't risk — I was lucky to get away at all —"

Caradoc Dearborn began to cry, as well. James wished he could be anywhere else; he felt like
he was intruding on something very private. Lily seemed to feel the same way, judging by
how intently she was studying her nails.

Dumbledore caught James' eye and smiled knowingly. He checked his pocket watch, and his
eyes widened behind his half-moon glasses. "I'm afraid the hour grows late," he said. "Potter,
Miss Evans, it is high time you got some well-deserved rest. Before returning to your
dormitories, however, I must insist you stop by the hospital wing for examination. I will
notify Madam Pomfrey of your arrival at once."

With a sweeping gesture, Dumbledore ushered them out of the office. As soon as the door
closed behind them, James realised just how exhausted he was. He felt sore all over, like he'd
had a bad fall off his broomstick.

"Right," he said. "I'm knackered, so I'm going to pass on going to the hospital wing. Say hi to
Poppy for me, alright?"

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to let you go to the dormitory without being
examined," said Lily. "I will drag you to the hospital wing if I have to."

"Why?" said James. "You already healed me. I'm fine."

"James. I am an apprentice. I had no idea what I was doing."

"Well, I'm still standing, aren't I?"

"For now," said Lily. "But I didn't have much practice with that countercurse. Suppose I did a
shoddy job of it? Your skin could split back open in your sleep."

He winced. "That's gruesome."

"Yeah, well, welcome to Healing," she said. "You're going to the hospital wing. Now."

James yawned. Then he lay down in the middle of the corridor.

"Oh, my God," said Lily. "Are you honestly —"

James grinned up at her. "I propose a compromise."

"I don't like where this is going." Lily crossed her arms.

"Hear me out," said James. "Sirius and I invented a spell that makes things fly. If I teach it to
you, will you charm my robes and levitate me to the hospital wing? That way you'll have a
clean conscience, and who knows, maybe I could get a nap in…"

Lily was trying to hold back a smile; he could tell by the shape of her eyes. "Fine," she said,
drawing her wand. "How's the spell go, then?"

Madam Pomfrey promptly declared Lily to be in good health, aside from a few bruised ribs.
However, she insisted that James spend the night in the hospital wing. James, of course, took
extreme umbrage at being made to stay in the hospital wing overnight, and flatly refused to
believe that Madam Pomfrey could have his best interests at heart. After tremendous amounts
of cajoling by both Lily and Madam Pomfrey, he finally lay down on a cot. No more than two
minutes later, he was soundly asleep.

Madam Pomfrey pulled Lily aside before she left. "You did an excellent job on those
lacerations," she said in a low voice. "Anything less, and he might not have lived to tell the
tale."

For the first time all evening, hot tears pricked at the corner of Lily's eyes. "Did you see his
scars?"

"Lily." Madam Pomfrey's voice was affectionate but firm. "Not even I could have healed him
completely. You did an excellent job — far better than I could have done at your age."

Lily knew that ought to make her feel better, but it didn't. After leaving the hospital wing, she
spent five minutes having a good cry in the lavatory. When she had finished, she washed her
face, took several deep breaths, and returned to the dungeons.

It was well past midnight, yet a trio of Aurors continued to guard the doors in the Entrance
Hall. Lily expected them to send her back to her dormitory, but they paid her no mind. In
fact, one of them even dipped his chin at her in acknowledgement as she passed.

Lily frowned. News of Sally's rescue couldn't have travelled that quickly, could it?
It took her an additional half an hour and several wrong turns, but Lily finally found Salazar's
Corridor. Now that she'd gotten some distance from the whole situation, the corridor looked
even worse than she remembered. Part of the ceiling had caved in, and most of the statues
had been completely pulverised by the explosion. Large chunks of stone had even been
ripped from the floor, exposing patches of dirt beneath.

Regulus was still in the portrait at the end of the corridor. He fidgeted anxiously as she
approached.

"Are you alright?" Lily whispered.

"Fine," said Regulus. "Did Sally — I'm assuming you went to McGonagall, but Sally — she
didn't mention me, did she?"

"No," said Lily. "She made it sound like hiding in a painting was her idea. Your name didn't
come up at all."

Regulus visibly relaxed. "Good. And Potter?"

"He's in the hospital wing. He'll be alright."

"That's surprising. Severus tried to kill him."

"Tried and failed," said Lily. "Your little friends are in so much trouble, by the way."

"Good," said Regulus. "They deserve it for interfering with my plan."

The harshness in his voice surprised her. She looked at him. "Are you still under the influence
of Veritaserum?"

"Yes, and I've been going mad in this painting. I can't breathe in here, it's too cramped. Have
you got your wand? I can show you how to take me out…"

A few minutes later, Regulus was standing in front of her, looking no worse for the wear. He
prodded his wand clumsily at his own face, trying to Untransfigure his appearance.

"Oh, come here," said Lily, taking pity on him. "I can put you right, hang on…"

"I wonder how she did it, all these months," said Regulus as Lily restored his hair to its usual
glossy black. "It drove me mad, sitting there for a couple of hours. Half a year, though…"

"What happened to the original Salazar?" asked Lily. "I'm assuming this used to be a real
portrait of Salazar Slytherin, right?"

"Oh, him," said Regulus. "Yeah, he's fine. I paid him to stay in one of his other portraits, he'll
be back in June. I don't think he minded, honestly — he's got frames in the Ministry and
Walpurgis Abbey, which have got to be more interesting than this mouldy old corridor."

Lily laughed. She finished shrinking Regulus' eyebrows down to a manageable size and they
began the long walk back through the dungeons.
"There's one thing I still don't get," said Lily as they walked. "The painting thing was your
idea, right?"

Regulus nodded.

"Then why did Sally let you help her? You two weren't exactly on the best of terms before
she disappeared."

"That's putting it mildly," said Regulus. "Well. I gained her trust when she saw me Obliviate
Edmund Avery."

"You what?"

"Yeah, she realised I was serious about helping her pretty quickly after that. Although, to be
honest — I wasn't helping her so much as trying to keep myself from being expelled."

"Oh, obviously," said Lily sarcastically. "I'm sure that was your only motivation in all this."

"It's the truth," said Regulus. "Mulciber and his gang… They're friends of mine. I knew what
they were trying to do, and I knew that they were going to be caught. Mulciber's no great
tactician, you see."

"So you took matters into your own hands? Hid her away before Mulciber could get to her?"

"I'm more clever than that." Regulus gave her a small smile. "Hurting Sally wasn't Mulciber's
idea. He'd been given orders, you see. I simply found a way to fulfil those orders with
minimal bloodshed — and without getting the lot of us expelled."

"Well, until tonight, at least," said Lily. "I can't imagine Mulciber continuing at Hogwarts if
McGonagall examines his wand and sees that he really did cast the Killing Curse."

"Typical of him," said Regulus. "Even when I save his sorry arse, he still finds a way to
mangle things."

Lily decided to push her luck. "Who were the orders from?"

"You oughtn't ask me questions like that. Not when I've taken Veritaserum. It isn't fair."

"But I'm curious," said Lily. "So, who gave the order to hurt Sally Dearborn?"

Regulus groaned. "Nobody you've met. A cousin of mine who works with the Death Eaters."
After a moment, he said, "She knows, you know."

"Who? Your cousin?"

"Yes. She knew where Sally was."

Lily couldn't believe what she was hearing. "She — what? Your Death Eater cousin knew
where Sally was hiding?"
"Of course. I had to tell her. The Dark Lord likely knows, too."

"What? Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? She wanted us to 'take care of' Sally Dearborn. And I did. My cousin
actually helped me do it, you know."

Lily's voice was flat. "Your Death Eater cousin helped you hide Sally Dearborn."

"Yes. She owled me things for Sally, at least at first. Extra food, soap, things like that. She
even practised Occlumency with me, just in case."

"Occlumency?"

"How to hide thoughts that you don't want people to know. Bella was almost too helpful,
honestly. I think she might have had her own plans for Sally. But... things changed after the
attack on the Hogwarts Express."

"How so?"

"I couldn't go to Hogsmeade anymore, to buy food, and my cousin's been busy with... other
things. She couldn't send me supplies as often. I'm afraid Sally might have suffered for it."

"I'm sure you did the best you could," said Lily, though she wasn't entirely certain that was
true.

"That's true," said Regulus, "All things considered, I've done quite well. I made Bella happy
because I fulfilled her orders. And my plan was better than Mulciber's, because nobody had
to murder anyone, and nobody died, or got expelled. I haven't been expelled, at least, and
that's what matters."

Lily was gobsmacked. "You really were trying to save your own skin."

"Of course I was. I told you that already." Regulus' expression darkened. "It would have
worked perfectly, too, if Severus hadn't stuck his great nose into things."

"Severus figured out what you were doing?"

"Yeah. He took it upon himself to play detective. He jumped to conclusions, wouldn't let me
explain... But that's all over now. I'm sure Bella won't be very happy with him."

They turned a corner, passing Slughorn's office. The Slytherins were no longer tied up
outside, but a light shone from under the door. Slughorn must be inside, Lily thought. She
listened hard, hoping to hear some scolding, but no sound came from the office.

"He's sending some strongly-worded owls to parents, no doubt," commented Regulus.

Lily snorted. "How d'you think that goes? 'Dear Mr Mulciber, sorry to bother you at this
hour, but your son has been very naughty — I shall have to take three points from
Slytherin…"
Regulus actually chuckled at that.

"You know," said Lily, "you can claim you were being practical all you like, but I don't
believe it. I think you helped Sally because you couldn't live with her death on your
conscience."

"Those are your morals," said Regulus. "Not mine." But the humour had gone from his face;
he looked suddenly resigned.

They walked in silence until they reached a stretch of plain stone wall. "This is the entrance
to the common room," said Regulus, coming to a halt.

Lily bit her lip. "Will you be alright in there?"

"I'll manage," said Regulus. "Worst case, I'll sleep in the painting." He hesitated. "Lily…"

She knew where he was going with this. "We can't be friends," she said. "Not while you're
still part of Mulciber's gang."

The tension left Regulus' shoulders. He looked relieved that she understood. "I'm sorry."

"I am, too," said Lily. "Lord Voldemort's making students fight his battles for him, isn't he?"

Regulus sucked in a breath upon hearing Voldemort's name. "Don't — don't call him that.
That name — it's for his inferiors. You don't understand —"

"If that's the name he wants Muggle-borns like me to use, then all the more reason to use it,"
said Lily. "I'm not ashamed of what I am."

"You're being foolish," said Regulus. "Say that name and you'll put a target on your back."

"Well, it won't be the first, will it?" snapped Lily. "I've had a target on my back since I was
six years old and making flowers bloom in winter." She glared at him, daring him to call her
foolish again.

Regulus looked away. He seemed to be fighting with himself over something. At last, he said,
"I don't want you to get hurt."

"Just me?" asked Lily. "Or all Muggle-borns?"

"Anyone," he said. His face twisted in disgust, as if he was admitting some terrible secret.

"I have bad news for you, then," said Lily. "We're at war. Every day, people are hurt —
especially people like me. At least until someone kills your Lord Voldemort."

"He can't be killed. They say he's immortal."

"Well," said Lily, "there's only one way to test that theory, isn't there?"

"Impossible," said Regulus. "No Muggle-born has ever defeated a Dark wizard."
"That's because no Dark wizard has ever met me."

A small, incredulous smile danced across Regulus' lips. "That's true. If anyone can do it, you
can," he said. "Give them hell, Lily Evans."

And he leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth.

Then he turned and vanished into the stone wall, muttering a password too quietly for her to
hear.

Lily stayed where she was, rooted to the spot. I just got kissed by a Death Eater, she thought.
She didn't know whether to cry or laugh. She could still feel his lips, dry and rough, against
her mouth. He'd smelled of turpentine.
 The Heroes of Hogwarts

The next morning, James woke to the sound of Madam Pomfrey's shoes clicking against the
stone floor of the hospital wing. He rolled over with a groan and put on his glasses, but
Madam Pomfrey strode past him, heading towards another cot that had curtains drawn around
it. Two Aurors stood guard nearby, though they stepped aside for Madam Pomfrey, allowing
her to duck behind the curtains.

She murmured something, and a deep, rumbling voice replied. A moment later, Caradoc
Dearborn stepped out from behind the curtains. He noticed James was awake and approached
him, looming over his cot.

"She's going to be okay," said Caradoc gruffly. He indicated the cot with the curtains drawn
around it.

"Oh, said James. "That's brilliant."

Caradoc's stern expression didn't change. "I wanted to thank you. For protecting her when the
situation was dire."

"That's not — I mean, thanks, but I really didn't… " James tried to sit up, as Caradoc looked
very intimidating from his current viewpoint, but a searing pain went through his chest.

"Is everything alright?" asked Caradoc.

"Yeah," gasped James, clutching his chest.

Caradoc raised a meaty hand, as if to signal to Madam Pomfrey, but she had already emerged
from behind the curtains and was bustling over to James, carrying an array of potions
balanced on a tray.

"I don't need any of those," said James at once.

"Good morning to you, too," said Madam Pomfrey. She set the tray down on his bedside table
and began measuring out the potions into small phials.

"Seriously, I'm fine," said James. "I feel —" Something in his side caught painfully, and he
sucked in an involuntary breath. Like I've been run over by a hippogriff.

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes. "You feel?"

"Great," said James. "I feel great."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Madam Pomfrey. "You'll feel even better once you've taken those
potions." Before James could respond, both she and Caradoc had returned to Sally's bedside.

James downed the potions reluctantly and, bored, began to Transfigure the empty phials into
glass animals. He'd made an impressive lion and was working on a stag when Sirius burst
into the hospital wing, Remus and Peter at his heels.

"There you are!" exclaimed Sirius, catching sight of James. "You're alright, then?"

"Yeah, brilliant," said James. "I keep telling Poppy I'm ready to leave but she's insisting I
stay, I don't know why…"

"She's probably worried, God bless her," said Sirius. "It's not every day she gets a true
emergency, I bet."

"Out of curiosity," said Remus, "do you know what happened to the door?"

James glanced guiltily at the door to the hospital wing, which had been blasted off its hinges.
"Er. That was my fault. I'll put it right once I'm" — he grimaced — "off bedrest."

"Bedrest?" yelped Sirius. "Is she out of her mind?"

Peter looked a little wistful. "I'll swap places with you, if you'd like. Professor Kettleburn
wants us to groom his Chimaera today, and I just can't be arsed."

"James," said Remus quietly, "what happened last night?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. The cot sagged a little as he sat on it. "I'd like to know that myself."

"Erm, there's not much to tell," said James. He hesitated; Sally hadn't mentioned Regulus to
Dumbledore. He didn't quite understand what that was about, but maybe he ought to keep
Regulus' involvement quiet, as well.

"I saw Sally on the map with Lily," began James. "They were in the dungeons. Mulciber's
gang was heading towards them, so I went to warn them. We got out alright, but we had to
duel Mulciber's gang, because they were trying to kill Sally."

"You're joking," said Sirius. Peter looked very pale.

"Yeah, it was mad," said James. "Mulciber cast the bloody Killing Curse, blew up half the
corridor — and Snivellus gave me these." He tugged at the neck of his hospital gown,
revealing the white scars that snaked across his clavicle.

Sirius called Severus something very foul. "He cut you to ribbons! When I get my hands on
that jaundiced little —"

"Those are curse scars," said Remus worriedly. "They — they might not fade, Prongs. Some
cursed wounds don't."

"Yeah, Poppy said as much," said James. "I'm lucky Lily was there, honestly. She managed to
stop the bleeding. Probably saved my life."

"That makes you even, then," said Sirius. "After what you did for her on the Hogwarts
Express."
"That's no good," said Peter. "You always want a witch to be in your debt. Makes it easier to
write the marriage contract."

Sirius nudged James, grinning. "You'd better hope she puts herself in mortal peril again in
year seven, Prongs."

"Very funny," said James. "What happened on the Hogwarts Express was entirely different,
Lily would've been fine if I hadn't —"

"Yeah, and I'm sure Sally could've fought off six Death Eaters without you, too," said Sirius
sarcastically. "I always thought Moony was the good boy, but you're giving him a run for his
Galleons, aren't you?"

"Prongs has got me beat," said Remus. "The best thing I've ever done for Hogwarts was when
I organised the awards in the Trophy Room during our fourth year."

"And just think, that little project earned you a prefect badge," said Sirius. "Imagine what sort
of reward Prongs'll get for finding a missing student and saving her life."

Peter grinned evilly at James. "I bet Dumbledore gives you a trophy for this. An award for
special services to the school, or something like that. You mark my words."

"Keep it up and I'll make Poppy throw you out of the hospital wing," said James. "Special
services. Honestly. I've done nothing —"

"Dumbledore doesn't think so," said Sirius "Did you know that he awarded you two hundred
house points over breakfast?"

"And there was a speech," said Remus.

James groaned, throwing himself back on the pillows.

"I bet you're Head Boy next year," said Sirius.

James made a rude gesture at him.

"Oh, my," said Peter. "That is very unbecoming of the Saviour of Hogwarts and future Head
Boy —"

"Agreed," said Sirius. "Remus, take points."

"I could never," said Remus. "Take points from James Fleamont Potter? Don't you know he
single-handedly saved Sally Dearborn and put the Slytherins in their place? I've heard You-
Know-Who is thinking of retiring, he knows when he's met his match… "

"Merlin's dangling Bludgers," said James. "I've half a mind to pull a Mulciber on you lot —"

He broke off. Lily had just walked into the hospital wing. She exchanged a few words with
Madam Pomfrey at her desk and then walked towards James' cot.
James' heartbeat quickened. She'd come to visit him.

His arm suddenly began to throb, and he swore; Sirius had hit him.

"Don't forget to breathe, mate," said Sirius.

"I was breathing," said James defensively. He ran his hands through his hair. "How do I
look?"

"The better question," said Peter, wrinkling his nose, "is 'how do I smell?' "

"Shit," said James, groping for his wand. He cast a quick Fragrance Charm just as Lily
reached them.

"Hi," she said. "I thought I'd…" She trailed off and sniffed the air curiously. "Do I smell
honeysuckle?"

"Huh," said James. "That's weird. I don't smell a thing."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well," said Lily. She shifted her weight a little. "How're you feeling?"

"Perfect," said James at once. "Never better. I —"

"Yeah, he's fine," said Peter. "He was just threatening to murder us all, Death-Eater-style."

James leaned over to shove Peter, but the movement sent a sharp pain through his side. He
froze, one arm extended, and sucked in a breath.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Never better," she repeated.

"Well," said James, "I certainly don't need to be on bedrest —"

"Until we replenish your blood, you do," said Lily. "Do you know what would happen if you
stood up, fell, and hit your head?"

"I dunno," said James. "Die, I guess?"

"You'd bleed out," said Remus helpfully.

"Exactly," said Lily. She drew her wand. "Do you mind if I check your humours?"

Sirius jumped off the cot so quickly it was as if he'd been sitting on a pin. "We were just
leaving. Feel free to check whatever part of James you'd like, Wondergirl."

Lily tensed at the nickname. "If you're just going to take the piss…"

"No offence intended," said Sirius. He gave her an easy smile and jerked a thumb towards
James. "Thanks for saving this git's life, by the way. I'm glad we'll get to keep him around a
bit longer."
Lily relaxed, then frowned. "I didn't — 'saving a life' is a strong term, there's far more left to
chance in Healing than most people —"

"They really are soul mates," said Peter in a stage whisper to Remus.

"We'll be back later, Prongs," said Sirius. "I'll tell Slughorn that the Saviour of Hogwarts
won't be able to make it to his Sunday detention, I'm sure he'll be heartbroken…"

Lily shook her head fondly as she watched them walk away. "Some friends you've got."

"Yeah, sorry about that," said James. "Bunch of wankers. They're alright, really, once you get
to know them…"

"It's fine," said Lily. She turned her wand over in her hands. "I really do need to check your
humours, though. Madam Pomfrey wants to know if the potions are working."

"Ah," said James. For a moment, he thought she'd come to visit him. "Right. You're here for
your apprenticeship."

"Of course," said Lily. "What else —" Her cheeks turned pink. "Oh. Did you think…?"

"I didn't," said James firmly. He wished he could sink through the cot and die. "I just assumed
— you're not wearing Healer's robes or anything —"

"You're completely right," said Lily, whose face was now the same colour as her hair. "I
should wear a badge or something when I'm apprenticing. I'm sorry, I didn't think — I'll
speak to Madam Pomfrey right away —"

"No," said James, "it was my fault, I shouldn't have assumed — stupid of me, really…"

"I can come back to visit, if you'd like," said Lily. "I'm having lunch with Marlene and Mary,
but maybe after —"

"Don't visit," said James immediately. "I mean, why would you — it's not like we're mates, or
anything…"

Lily bit her lip. "Right, yeah." She let out a nervous little laugh. "I think I'll be busy this
afternoon anyway. Revising, you know…"

She flashed him a tight smile and muttered the spell to check his humours. James tried to
think of something normal to say, but nothing came to mind. Lily scribbled a few notes on a
scrap of parchment and scurried back to Madam Pomfrey's desk, leaving James to feel as if
he'd somehow failed an exam he hadn't been aware he was taking.
The full moon rose on Tuesday night, but James was still in the hospital wing, so the task of
occupying the wolf fell to Sirius. He crept down the tunnel underneath the Whomping
Willow a full day early, hoping to reinforce the protective enchantments surrounding the
Shrieking Shack. They'd been letting the wolf stretch its legs on Hogwarts grounds, but he
couldn't allow that to happen this month. It would be too dangerous without the stag to keep
the wolf in check.

The wolf escaped despite his efforts; it squeezed itself between the planks of the boarded-up
windows and scrambled out before Sirius could stop it. Although he'd specifically reinforced
the windows with protective enchantments, some forms of magic had no effect on the wolf, it
seemed.

Sirius, as Padfoot, bolted after the wolf, leaving Wormtail squeaking wildly inside the Shack.
Though the streets of Hogsmeade were blessedly empty, the nighttime air carried the
lingering scent of humans, witches and wizards who during the day had been drawn outside
by the springtime weather.

The wolf was hungry, and the scent was intoxicating. Padfoot finally herded it into the
Forbidden Forest, but he received several irritated bites for his efforts, the worst of which
nearly cost him an eye.

At long last, the first rays of the morning sun dappled the wolf's hide, and it collapsed atop a
mossy bank, paws twitching. Sirius crouched nearby, wand drawn, as the wolf let out a
horrifying scream and became Remus once more.

"We're not in the Shack," rasped Remus after the muscles in his jaw stopped seizing.

"No," said Sirius a tad irritably, "we're not. Someone couldn't stay put."

Remus' eyes slid in and out of focus. "Your face?"

"Someone nearly took out my eye."

Remus' face contorted with regret and self-loathing. Sirius sighed. He hadn't been meaning to
make Remus feel guilty. "It looks worse than it is. Don't worry — I've been injured worse in
Quidditch practice."

"Liar."

"You don't play Quidditch, so you don't know." Sirius helped Remus sit upright and settled
beside him. "Are you cold?"

"No."

"You're shivering."

Remus' shoulder jerked against Sirius' side; it could have been a shrug, or a particularly
violent spasm. "Side-effect of transforming."
"Well," said Sirius. "I'm cold, at least." He pulled the Invisibility cloak out of his robes and
draped it across their laps.

After a few minutes, the tension left Remus' body. He rested his head on Sirius' shoulder.

Sirius sniffed his hair. "You smell awful. Like a wet dog."

Remus' voice was muffled. "Cauldron. Kettle. Black."

Sirius hummed and entwined his fingers into Remus' untidy hair. The sunlight was growing
brighter, and the air began to fill with chirping sounds, punctured by the occasional scuffling
of small animals. Remus' breathing slowed.

Sirius checked his watch reluctantly. They needed to leave; it was nearly half-past six, and
Madam Pomfrey would soon be bustling down to the Whomping Willow.

Five more minutes, he decided, and he closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the morning
sun.

After closer to ten minutes — could've been fifteen — he helped Remus limp back to the
Shrieking Shack and returned to the castle for breakfast.

At this early hour, the Great Hall was all but empty. To Sirius' surprise, though, James was
seated at the far end of the Gryffindor table, across from Peter.

"There you are," huffed Peter as Sirius joined them. "Couldn't have waited up for me, could
you?"

"No offence, Pete, but I know Flobberworms that move faster than you do as a rat," said
Sirius, reaching for the plate of sausages. "And you're not much quicker in human form,
either."

Peter gestured at the wound below Sirius' eye. "Did Moony do that to you?"

"Yeah, and I got lucky," said Sirius. "Think he was aiming for my eye." He turned to James.
"Did you sneak out of the infirmary, or did Madam Pomfrey actually let you go willingly?"

James grinned. "I've been given a clean bill of health. Apparently she's never seen someone
with humours more balanced than mine."

"Excellent," said Sirius. He glanced around the Great Hall. A few fifth year Ravenclaws had
walked in, their arms laden with books, but the Hall was still nearly empty. "Listen," he said,
lowering his voice. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you about, but couldn't in the
hospital wing. All those Aurors hovering around, you know."

James nodded. "Bit of overkill, if you ask me," he said around a mouthful of toast. "Caradoc
still hasn't left Sally's side, and I get the impression he's willing to hex anyone who so much
as breathes in her direction."
"Not surprising," said Sirius, and he cast a quick Muffliato Charm around himself and James.
Peter protested, but his voice grew indistinct and incomprehensible through the barrier of the
charm.

James frowned and leaned across the table. "Quickly, Padfoot, before Wormy has a coronary.
What's this about?"

"Regulus," said Sirius. "The night you found Sally, you said Regulus wanted Lily for
something. Was he involved somehow?"

James let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Er, yeah, sort of. But I'm not — I
didn't really get the full story about that. You might want to ask him yourself."

"He's not going to tell me anything," said Sirius. "The last time we talked, I punched him."

"Well," said James, "I expect you'll have to apologise for that, won't you?"

Sirius made a noncommittal noise.

"Sorry, mate," said James. "It's just — it's not really my story to tell, is it?"

Sirius crossed his arms. "I suppose."

Peter's muffled protests were growing louder. Apparently, he was bothering the Ravenclaws:
they were shooting dirty looks towards the Gryffindor table.

James raised his eyebrows at Sirius. "Are we finished here?" He jerked his chin pointedly
towards Peter.

"Yeah," said Sirius, and he lifted the charm.

Sirius got his chance the following Saturday, during the Hufflepuff match against Slytherin.
He transformed into Padfoot and climbed to the top of the stands to watch the match, hoping
Regulus would notice him and realise he wanted to talk.

Unfortunately, Regulus gave no indication that he'd spotted the shaggy black dog, but the
Hufflepuff Quidditch team certainly did. Two of their three Chasers began sobbing and
refused to continue the match. The Hufflepuff Seeker refused to fly higher than ten feet off
the ground, and when Madam Hooch called a timeout to ask what was wrong, he cited a fear
of falling to his death.

Even though the Slytherin team was missing a Beater, thanks to Mulciber being mysteriously
absent, Hufflepuff still managed to lose badly: the final score was an abysmal one hundred
and eighty to twenty.

Padfoot didn't care about that, since numbers were difficult as a dog. He climbed down the
stands — easy enough to do, as most of the students were giving him a wide berth — and sat
near the Slytherin changing room, waiting for Regulus to come out.
Regulus emerged a few minutes later, his black hair damp. He spotted the dog at once and
sighed loudly. "You have got to be joking."

Padfoot wagged his tail and led Regulus around the corner, behind the changing room. As
soon as they were alone, Regulus knelt beside the dog. "What do you want?" he hissed. The
skin around his left eye was still slightly yellow.

Padfoot let out a loud bark, and Regulus stumbled backwards, surprised. The dog settled on
its haunches, satisfied, and became Sirius.

"Nice flying, Reg," he said, brushing off his knees.

"You're going to get yourself expelled," said Regulus. "Running around Hogwarts as Padfoot,
what are you thinking, people will catch on in about a minute —"

Sirius shrugged. "I needed to get your attention."

"Well, you've got it. What do you want?"

This was the difficult part. "I wanted —" said Sirius. He cleared his throat. "I wanted to, er.
Apologise. For punching you."

Regulus arched a single, perfectly-groomed eyebrow. "Really."

"Yeah. Shouldn't have done it."

"Looks like someone punched you, too," said Regulus, with a gesture towards Sirius' swollen
face.

"More or less," said Sirius. "So, er. Do you forgive me?"

Regulus almost laughed. "Have you gone mad?"

"I don't think so. No madder than usual, at least."

"Why do you care if I forgive you?"

"Er," said Sirius, "because you're my idiot brother, who I care about despite my better
judgement. And because I want you to tell me if you were involved in the whole Sally thing.
And because I'm sorry. Is that enough?"

The humour vanished from Regulus' face. "Fine," he said. "You're forgiven. But I'm not
telling you about Sally, regardless."

"And why not?"

"Because it's not your business."

Sirius leaned against the wall of the changing room. "At first I thought you tried to duel Sally
like the rest of your Death Eater friends, but James made it sound like you helped her. Like
you kept her safe somehow."

Regulus' thin lips pressed together tightly. "That's one interpretation of what happened."

"Reg," said Sirius. "You don't have to pretend with me. We both know you're not the next
Mulciber. You haven't got it in you. And if you helped Sally —"

"Haven't got it in me? What's that supposed to mean?"

Sirius fidgeted. "You know."

"I don't," said Regulus coolly. "Mind explaining it to me?"

"Come on, Reg. It's like — like how Mum calls you sensitive."

Regulus' eyes hardened. "Soft, you mean."

"Those are Father's words," said Sirius.

"You've called me that, too."

Sirius raked his hands through his hair. "Whatever you want to call it, then, Reg. This is a
good example. You're not —"

"Not what?"

You're not like me. "You don't get off on hurting people. And you don't like getting hurt. It's
not a bad thing. It's the way you are."

"Alright," said Regulus. "So I'm not hardened and fearless like Sirius Black, the mighty
Gryffindor. What's your point?"

"Just that…" Sirius clenched his fists. His Animagus form might be a dog, but he hated
begging. "Just that the way you are… it doesn't fit. It doesn't fit with what the Death Eaters
want to do."

"It doesn't matter," said Regulus. "The Death Eaters want a Black. They want our money. Our
vaults."

"They'll have a Black. They'll have me. Why do you think I went back to Grimmauld Place,
Regulus?"

Regulus snorted. "There's not a single person in Britain who'd believe you'd join the Death
Eaters."

"Maybe not," said Sirius. "But I'll be as good as. At least until our parents finally croak. I've
been helping Father give the Death Eaters gold, and items from his collection, did you
know?"
"Of course I did," said Regulus, though he looked a little uncertain now. "Though I'd have
thought you'd put up more of a fuss —"

"Collateral damage, Reg," said Sirius. "But that's on my conscience. Not yours. You don't
have to be a part of it. You've done enough."

"You don't understand," said Regulus. "The things I've been involved in — I can't back out.
They'll kill me."

"The Potters would love —"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Not the Potters again."

"I have a contact in the Order," tried Sirius. "I could —"

"Not on your life," said Regulus. "Do you know how quickly our parents would disown me if
they found out that I ran crying to the Order?"

"Would that really be so bad?"

"Yes! It would be!"

The ferocity of Regulus' response surprised Sirius. He rubbed his hand across his face, trying
to think of something non-judgmental to say. "You really crave our parents' approval that
badly?"

Regulus said nothing; he looked away, breathing heavily.

"They're terrible people," said Sirius. "They treat us like we're disposable."

"So what?" said Regulus. "Everyone else does that, too."

Sirius shook his head. "No. I've got people who care about me — and their last name isn't
Black."

"Good for you," said Regulus. "I don't."

"But you could," said Sirius. "If you'd only —"

"Will you please drop it?" asked Regulus. He met Sirius' eyes. It was like looking into a
mirror. "I'm happy for you. I'm glad you've got support. But that doesn't change a thing about
my situation."

Sirius felt five hundred pounds heavier. He slumped against the wall. "You're making the
wrong choice."

"Perhaps," said Regulus. "But it's my choice to make, isn't it?"

Sirius' throat grew tight, like he was going to choke, and he realised he wanted to cry. It was a
terrible feeling, heavy and damp.
He transformed into Padfoot, if only to make the feeling go away, and he ran and ran, into the
Forbidden Forest and away from his foolish, soft-hearted, idiot of a brother.

Lily had an utterly bizarre week. Somehow, the entire school knew that she and James had
been responsible for finding Sally Dearborn, and absurd rumours were swirling regarding
how, exactly, they had done it. She couldn't so much as walk down the corridors without
passing clusters of students who stared at her and whispered behind their hands. More than
one first year student asked for her autograph, and she swore that even the teachers were
displaying favouritism that she didn't deserve.

"This is maddening," she told Marlene during their Charms lesson. Professor Flitwick had
just awarded her five points to Gryffindor for wearing matching socks. "I can't go anywhere
without people making a scene. I'm not sure how everyone knows what happened — I only
told you and Mary, and James just got out of the hospital wing a few days ago, so he couldn't
have had time to brag about it —"

"Er," said Marlene, looking guilty, "I might've told the Quidditch team. And I think Mary told
Parvana, who told her sister Priyanka, in Hufflepuff? Then the Hufflepuffs told the
Ravenclaws, and I'm sure the Slytherins have their own version of the story, so..."

Lily groaned. "Some friends you are."

"Try to enjoy it while it lasts," said Marlene. "You're a Hogwarts celebrity! Remember how in
second year everyone was obsessed with Barnabus Horneater because his aunt was Celestina
Warbeck? This is just like that, only better, because you actually did something worth being
recognised for."

Lily hated being recognised. The rumours about what had happened grew more outrageous as
the days went on, but she had no interest in setting the record straight. As far as she was
concerned, the story was Sally's to tell. Seeing as Sally remained in the hospital wing,
surrounded by Aurors, it seemed likely that nobody but Lily, James, and Regulus would ever
know the full story.

Surprisingly, James Potter didn't seem to enjoy the extra attention all that much. Lily had
expected him to strut proudly around the castle, considering how he thrived in the spotlight.
After he was released from the hospital wing, though, he seemed embarrassed to receive any
extra attention, and mostly kept to his group of friends. Every once in a while, in the common
room or during lessons, he would catch Lily's eye and give her a small, almost sheepish
smile.

The final Quidditch match of the year — Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw — took place the
following Saturday. Lily, who didn't care much for Quidditch in the first place, opted to stay
in the common room over attending the match. The thought of sitting in the stands,
surrounded by students who would whisper and stare at her, seemed incredibly unappetising.
Instead, she curled up in a squashy armchair near the hearth and began reading the latest
Muggle paperback that her mum had sent her. It was a mystery novel, the last in a series,
about the murder of an heiress in her country home. Usually Lily preferred Muggle books
over Wizarding ones, but she was finding it difficult to focus. She'd spent the past six months
trying to solve a murder; she didn't much feel like reading about another one in her spare
time.

"Good book?"

Lily jumped. James Potter was standing across from her, folding a shimmery silver cloak
across his arm.

"You scared me. I didn't hear you come in." Lily narrowed her eyes. "Is that your Invisibility
Cloak? Are you sneaking around?"

"More or less," said James jauntily. "Madam Pomfrey's forbidden me from playing Quidditch
for a month — I'm not sure why, I've told her a million times that I'm fine — but I did want to
go down and watch my team win the Cup for the second year running."

He proffered his elbow to her. "Care to join?"

Lily nearly turned him down. The rejection was on the tip of her tongue, but then she glanced
at her stupid Muggle novel. Spending the afternoon with James Potter might actually be more
pleasant than reading about the murder of the Duchess of Harewood Manor. She was so tired
of intrigue.

"Everyone will stare at us if we show up together," she said.

James made a face. "You've noticed, too, have you? I thought it was in my head at first."

"It's driving me mad," said Lily. "Have you heard some of the rumours? They're absolutely
ridiculous — nobody's got the first clue about what really happened —"

James grinned. "They're saying you single-handedly blew up half the dungeon as soon as
Mulciber pointed his wand at you. Some temper, that Lily Evans…"

"Oh, God," said Lily. "Did you hear the one about how you shielded Sally with your own
body as Mulciber transformed into a werewolf and mauled you?"

"Yeah, the rumours about me are usually something along those lines," said James, and his
smile faded a little. "Everyone's dying to find out how I got my new scars, you know…"

Lily's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "I'm so sorry. I —"

"Don't apologise," said James, waving a hand. "I'm alive because of you."

"But if I'd only been — if I'd had more experience, I might've been able to —"

"It doesn't matter," said James. "I don't care if I've got scars. It's a small price to pay for being
alive, isn't it?"
Lily bit her lip. "I still feel awful about it, though." She couldn't believe she was admitting
that to James Potter, of all people.

"Well," said James, "you can make it up to me by accompanying me to the Quidditch match."
He indicated the shimmering fabric draped across his arm. "We can go under the Cloak,
nobody'll be the wiser. We'll actually be able to enjoy the match."

Lily wasn't sure if he was asking her out or not. He was looking at her frankly, without any of
the bravado she'd come to associate with him. She cast a last look at her Muggle novel, then
closed it and left it on the armchair. Maybe she wasn't the only person to have changed this
year.

She joined James under the Cloak, and they made their way through the castle and onto the
grounds of Hogwarts. After enduring day after day of whispers and stares, being invisible
was absolutely lovely. With every floor they descended, Lily felt lighter and more carefree.
She didn't even mind that she was under the Cloak with James Potter. It helped that he
smelled nice, like soap.

They found an unoccupied row at the top of the stands just as the match was starting. "Eli
Jordan's filling in for me," observed James. "That's good, he's decently speedy… Weak arm,
though…"

"Oh," said Lily. She was suddenly aware of just how little she knew about Quidditch. "That
sounds good, yeah."

James glanced at her. "You don't usually go to Quidditch matches, do you?"

His tone was matter-of-fact, but Lily flushed. "Er, I do, once in a while… I just get busy, you
know…"

James smiled widely. "Don't worry. I'll explain everything to you." His arm brushed against
her as he pointed at one of the Gryffindor players streaking across the pitch. "That's Parvana.
She's the Seeker. As long as she catches the Snitch, and our Chasers score twenty points more
than Ravenclaw, the Cup is ours."

Lily began to regret that they were under the Invisibility Cloak. He was sitting so close to her,
and he was talking about his former girlfriend. A little breathing room would have been nice.

"You think it's likely we'll win, then?" she asked. That was an intelligent-sounding question,
wasn't it?

James scoffed. "Likely? It's nearly certain. Our Chasers are solid, and Parv's the best Seeker
we've had in a decade."

There he went, bringing up Parvana again. Did he have lingering feelings for her?

"She must be talented," said Lily.

"She is," said James simply.

That didn't tell her much. Lily was going to have to ask directly. "You two dated, didn't you?"

James glanced at her, and once again Lily wished she was sitting just a little further away.
"Yeah, we did. I'm surprised you noticed, honestly."

"Why would that be surprising?"

James shifted a little and looked away. Was he uncomfortable now? "We — er. We didn't
exactly…" He ran a hand through his hair. "A lot of the time it felt more like dating my sister.
Does that make sense?"

Lily thought about Regulus. She'd certainly felt something for him, but in the end… "I think I
know what you mean."

James gave an awkward little shrug. "It's kind of embarrassing. Oh, we've scored."

Lily expected him to jump out of his seat and hoot like an idiot the first time Gryffindor
scored. Instead, he gave a couple of appreciative claps and went back to watching the match
intently. Had she misjudged him all this time? Or did he only act like an obnoxious git when
his friends were around?

"Something on my face, Evans?" James asked after a moment, and Lily went bright red.

"No, I — you just surprised me, that's all."

"Did I? How so?"

There was no way she was going to tell him she'd thought he was an obnoxious git. "You're
just — more subdued than I would've thought. Gryffindor scored, and you barely even
clapped."

"Well, we're under the Cloak, aren't we?" said James. "I'd blow our cover if I started
celebrating like an arsehole, and then where would we be?"

Lily wasn't listening; the Gryffindor Chasers were doing something complicated and
interesting on the pitch. "I think we might've scored again!"

"Excellent," said James, as a roar of cheers sounded from the stands below them. "Just need
to catch the Snitch now, and we'll have the Cup — and second place in the House Cup, mind
you."

Lily smiled. "I think we've had second place secured ever since Dumbledore awarded us two
hundred points each for finding Sally Dearborn."

James shushed her. "Let's not talk about Sally. We're here to have a nice, normal time
watching a Quidditch match."

"Where I come from, there is nothing normal about Quidditch."

James laughed, and they fell quiet as the Ravenclaw Chasers made a daring attempt on the
Gryffindor hoops.

"This has been nice," said Lily after Simon Ashworth, the Gryffindor Keeper, had
successfully blocked the shot. "I'm glad you invited me."

"I'm glad you came. Didn't know if you'd be interested."

I'm especially interested now that I know you smell like soap. Lily tried to shoo the traitorous
thought away. "It's a bit funny how we ended up, isn't it? Considering I always thought you
were — you know."

"Devilishly handsome?"

That struck a little too close to home. Lily opened her mouth, then shut it. "I was going to say
a bit of a wanker."

"Well," said James, "you haven't exactly been wrong, have you?"

How could he be so self-deprecating? Had she mistaken his sense of humour for arrogance?
"I think my mistake was believing that you're only a wanker."

"Right," said James. "I'm a wanker and an arsehole."

Lily laughed and gave him a little shove. "You know that's not what I meant!"

"Sure you didn't," said James, winking.

"I didn't! I don't want you to think —"

"Evans. Relax. I'm teasing you." He was still watching the match, but he reached over to
ruffle her hair. As his arm fell, his hand brushed lightly against her back.

Judging by the way her heart was pounding, Lily was fairly certain the gesture had triggered
an arrhythmia. "Oh. Erm, right." She hoped her voice didn't sound as strangled to him as it
did to her.

James turned towards her, frowning, and Lily cursed silently. He'd noticed. "Alright, Lily?"

He was so close. She didn't turn away. "Never better."

She didn't know why she was looking at him so intently. Maybe it was because he was the
only person who understood everything she'd been through in the past week, or maybe it was
because he was gazing at her too, and she couldn't be imagining this, could she?

He touched her chin, which was still bruised from where she'd hit the ground after the
dungeon had exploded. His thumb was gentle as it brushed her jaw. He watched her intently,
looking for a reaction, and she really hoped Madam Pomfrey was at the match because there
must be something wrong with the way her heart was pounding —
An enormous roar went up from the stands, and Lily and James jumped apart.

"Oh — we've caught the Snitch!" said James, standing up.

Lily had no idea how he was able to determine what had happened on the pitch in such a
short amount of time, but she stood up as well to stay under the cover of the Invisibility
Cloak.

"Ah — that's brilliant," she said, joining him in clapping. She wished her heart would calm
down.

James pulled the Cloak off of them and began to wave it like a flag, whooping loudly. Lily
caught his eye, and he gave her a slightly rueful grin.

"I'll have to go down to congratulate the team," he said. "You're welcome to come, or if not
— I'm sure there will be a celebration in the common room, I might see you there...”

Lily fought the feeling of disappointment growing in her chest — surely Parvana could have
refrained from catching the Snitch for an additional ten seconds — but whatever moment had
been shared between them had clearly passed.

"You go on," she said, smiling as brightly as she could. "I'll see you in the common room.
Congratulations on the win."
 Errors and Exams

When Lily entered the hospital wing for her last shift as an apprentice, the infirmary was
blessedly quiet. Madam Pomfrey was sipping a cup of tea at her desk, and all the cots lay
empty, save for one at the far end of the infirmary, which was surrounded by curtains. Sally's
cot.

Assuming that Madam Pomfrey would want her to check Sally's humours, Lily approached
the drawn curtains. No Aurors were standing guard at the moment — perhaps they'd taken a
break.

"Sally?" she called.

There was no response.

Lily tried again. "Sally? Are you awake?" She rattled the curtains, then pulled them back
cautiously. Sally slept with her wand under her pillow and had hexed Lily more than once
after being startled awake.

The cot was empty.

Lily felt a jolt of panic. Trying to stay calm, she picked the rumpled blanket off the cot, as if
Sally might have been hiding underneath it. But there was no sign of Sally or her belongings:
no wand under the pillow, no stack of books beneath the cot. Only a vase of Flitterbloom
flowers, which had been a gift from Caradoc Dearborn, remained on the bedside table. The
flowers waved their leaves cheerily at Lily.

"Looking for something?"

Lily whirled around. Sally was standing behind her, dressed not in her usual infirmary gown,
but in a crisply pleated Hogwarts uniform.

"Oh, my God," said Lily, putting a hand to her chest. "Don't do that to me, Sally."

Sally sat on the cot, looking smug. Though her movements were still stiff, she looked
significantly healthier than she had a few weeks ago: her once-matted hair was now parted in
two sleek plaits, and her cheeks had regained some fullness. "I've been discharged from the
hospital wing, you know."

"What? Since when?"

"Oh, about an hour ago," said Sally.

That was news to Lily. Only a week ago, Sally had needed about twelve different potions to
balance her humours. Madam Pomfrey hadn't discharged her too soon, had she?

"That's… fantastic," Lily managed. "Are you going home, then?"

Sally shook her head. "N.E.W.T. examinations are next week. I can't miss that."

"That doesn't seem fair," said Lily. "You spent the last six months in a painting, instead of
revising like everyone else. I bet they'd postpone your exams, if you asked…"

"What's done is done," said Sally. "I don't need special treatment."

Lily nearly told her that she was being stupid, but arguing with Sally never did her any good.
She changed the subject instead. "Where are you going to stay, now that you've been
discharged? One of the Hogsmeade inns?"

Sally's jaw was set. "Gryffindor Tower."

"That's stupid," said Lily before she could stop herself. "It's not safe for you to stay in the
castle, the Slytherins…"

"I've got nothing to fear from the Slytherins. Dumbledore has severed the head of the snake."
Sally spoke triumphantly, clearly expecting Lily to understand her meaning.

"Severed the head of the…?" asked Lily after a moment.

Sally sighed. "Mulciber has been expelled."

"Oh," said Lily. "Well, that's good news, at least." She'd suspected as much, considering she
hadn't seen hide nor hair of Mulciber since that fateful night in the dungeons, but it was nice
to have confirmation.

"The other Slytherins who were involved have been given sufficient detentions to occupy
them until the end of the year," said Sally. "Not that they'd dare try anything with Mulciber
gone, anyway. But Dumbledore's prepared me a private room in Gryffindor Tower, just in
case. The Aurors will continue to… guard me." She said the last part with considerable
distaste. "They're helping move my things into Gryffindor Tower now. I just came back here
to get the Flitterblooms my father sent."

Sally hefted the vase on the bedside table into her arms. She sagged a little under its weight,
though the vase wasn't terribly heavy. "I'd better be getting back. Don't forget there's a prefect
meeting tonight — it's the last one of the term."

Lily knew better than to ask whether or not Sally would attend the meeting. "Of course. I'll
see you there."

Later that evening, Lily was the last to arrive at the prefect meeting. She never showed up
early anymore, not even to class: being early only gave people extra time to pester her for
details about what had happened in the dungeons.

Remus Lupin nudged her as she took her place beside him and gestured towards the front of
the room. Lily followed his gaze: Sally was standing beside Chester Fernsby, the Head Boy.
Her hands were clasped in front of her and her back ramrod was straight. Two Aurors lurked
behind her, wands drawn and surveying the room suspiciously, as though Sally was
surrounded by murderous convicts instead of a handful of prefects.
"Did you know Sally was out of the hospital wing?" asked Remus.

Lily nodded. "She only got out this afternoon."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "That's impressive. She certainly doesn't waste any time, does
she?"

"I know," said Lily vaguely. She'd spotted Regulus across the room, next to Edmund Avery. If
he was surprised to see Sally, he didn't show it; his face was carefully composed.

"Listen up, everyone," said Sally, and several hushed conversations died at once. The entire
room waited with bated breath to hear what she had to say.

"This is our last meeting of the term," she continued. "As such, I hope everyone has had a
productive year at Hogwarts. Now, to business: with exams beginning next week, the library
will be open until midnight. Madam Pince has asked for volunteers to staff the library in the
evenings. I've got a piece of parchment for sign-ups, if anyone is interested. Next, Filch the
caretaker…"

As Sally continued to talk, Lily looked around the room. Regulus' careful mask of neutrality
had slipped; his eyes kept darting towards Sally and away again, as if he was afraid to look at
her for too long. Many of the other prefects looked bewildered, even disappointed, that Sally
had neglected to mention her six-month absence.

They probably expected to take some new gossip back to their common rooms, Lily thought
bitterly. She was glad Sally wasn't talking about what had happened. She didn't owe them
anything.

As the meeting went on, Lily began to feel disappointed as well, but for a different reason.
Regulus hadn't glanced her way even once. She wasn't sure what she'd expected from him —
they'd agreed not to be friends, after all — but to ignore her completely?

As soon as Sally adjourned the meeting, Regulus left the staffroom. He hadn't looked at Lily
once.

That stung, but at the same time, Lily felt relieved. What they had been through together —
whatever they had once shared — was over. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

After the meeting, Lily struck up a long and boring conversation with Chester Fernsby about
banned Zonko's products, hoping the subject matter was dull enough that nobody would wait
around to talk to her. By the time they'd thoroughly exhausted the topic, the only other
students still in the room were a pair of Ravenclaw prefects who had volunteered to clean up
— gunning for next year's Head Boy and Girl, no doubt — and Remus, who was waiting for
her.

"Took you long enough," said Remus. "I don't think I've ever seen you so passionate about
confiscating Dungbombs."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too observant?" said Lily as they left the staffroom.
"I think it's been mentioned once or twice," said Remus. "I noticed Sirius' brother didn't ogle
you the entire meeting, either. That was another change of pace."

"You — what? That's not true, he didn't ogle…"

"Didn't he?" asked Remus. "He and Sirius make the same face… though Sirius usually does it
when he's staring at his motorbike..."

They reached the first-floor landing, and Lily stopped abruptly. "Hang on. Did you hear
that?"

"Hear what?"

"Voices," she said. She peered down the corridor; a light was shining under the door of an
empty classroom. "Someone's in there."

Remus followed her as she crept closer. "Is it a couple of prefects having a post-meeting
snog, do you think?"

"God, I hope so," said Lily. "I'm in the mood to take points." And she pressed her ear to the
door.

"…going to wonder where I've gone, so make this quick," said a clipped voice inside the
classroom.

Lily's eyes widened. Regulus, she mouthed to Remus.

A distinctly feminine voice responded. "How are you faring? Are the others in your House
still…?"

"Trying to kill me?" replied Regulus wryly. "Well, they aren't pleased, I can tell you that
much. Severus still…" He lowered his voice, and Lily didn't catch what he said next.

Remus looked questioningly at Lily. "Who's he talking to?"

"I think it's Sally!" said Lily. She wished she had James' Invisibility Cloak. She would love to
sneak inside the classroom and hear all the details of Regulus' conversation with Sally. Were
they plotting something new together?

Sally was still talking, though her voice was so muffled that Lily only caught the last word,
which was "…trouble?"

Regulus laughed, though the sound lacked any humour. "I've been sleeping in the painting.
He made it clear that I wasn't welcome in the dormitories."

Sally said something in response that Lily couldn't make out. She pressed her ear more firmly
to the door, as if that would improve her hearing.

"It's fine," said Regulus. "The painting —"

"Out of the question," said Sally, raising her voice. "I know what it's like to sleep there. I
won't allow it. You'll stay in my dormitory, Dumbledore's made private quarters for me. It's
decently spacious, and there's an extra bedroom, so you wouldn't be…"

The sarcasm in Regulus' voice was unmistakable. "I don't think I'll be any safer sleeping in
Gryffindor Tower, but thanks."

"It's not a request," said Sally. "We'll disguise you, so you can enter and leave freely. I could
ask my father for some Polyjuice if you like, he's got a supply at home…"

"I don't like the idea."

"Well, I don't like the thought of you tiptoeing around your House for the next week. This is
just a temporary measure, anyway — your buddies in Slytherin will cool off over the
summer. They're not stupid, they'll realise how much you did for them this year. They'll be
grateful. But right now, you do need to keep your distance. And I can help you do that."

There was a pause. "Fine," said Regulus at last.

"Gather your things," said Sally briskly. "I'll meet you on the seventh floor. If anyone asks,
you're helping me move into my new quarters."

Too late, Lily realised that footsteps were coming towards the door of the classroom. She
scrambled backwards, and Remus pulled her behind a nearby suit of armour just as the door
swung open.

Lily held her breath as Regulus and Sally stepped into the corridor. The space behind the suit
of armour was too small to hide both her and Remus. They'd certainly be spotted if Regulus
or Sally glanced their way —

Beside her, Remus drew his wand. He whispered a few words under his breath, and a
disembodied voice filled the corridor, cackling madly.

"Oooooh!" said the voice gleefully. "Who's in the corridor, up to no good?"

Sally swore. "Peeves," she said. "We'll have to split up. Hurry, before he sees us together and
word gets out —"

"CAUGHT YOU!" shouted the voice. "CAUGHT YOU SNEAKING!"

Sally practically sprinted down the corridor. Regulus went the other way, hurrying past the
suit of armour that Lily and Remus crouched behind.

Once Regulus and Sally were out of sight, Remus whispered a counter-charm, and Peeves'
cackling laughter faded.

"That was brilliant," said Lily, stepping out from behind the suit of armour. "You'll have to
teach me that spell. It really did sound like Peeves, how did you…?"
"Trade secret," said Remus, dusting off his jumper. "Did you have a fruitful eavesdropping
session?"

"Er, something like that," said Lily evasively. She and Remus were friendly, but she wasn't
sure just how much he could be trusted with secrets of this magnitude. If Remus had
overheard that Sally wanted to smuggle Regulus into Gryffindor Tower… would he tell
anyone? Surely he'd tell his mates, wouldn't he?

"By the way," she said as they returned to the common room, "how much of that conversation
did you hear?"

"Oh, I couldn't make out a word of it," said Remus lightly. "A bit disappointing, but my
hearing must be worse than yours. Why do you ask?"

Lily narrowed her eyes, unsure whether to believe him. "Not a single word?"

Remus' pleasant expression didn't change. "I'm afraid not. Though judging by their body
language, I believe they were discussing the patrol schedule."

He had to be lying. But Lily supposed that pressing him about it wouldn't do her any favours.

"Yeah," she said. "Boring, wasn't it?"

"That was my impression, as well," said Remus. "Good-night, Lily."

And he disappeared up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Lily watched him go, pursing her
lips. Surely Remus knew more than he was letting on. But maybe…

A vague memory from the previous year rose in the back of her mind. James' sixteenth
birthday party, when Remus told her very politely that his nickname was 'Moony' because he
had pimples.

Maybe Remus did know how to keep a secret. And maybe she was grateful that he did.

For the first time in her entire Hogwarts career, Lily received the highest marks possible on
her exams. She found this awfully suspicious. It was true that the exams were usually a
breeze, but eight Outstandings?

She suspected that the teachers were using the exams as another excuse to show favouritism
towards her. Most of them seemed inclined to give her an O for simply showing up. Professor
McGonagall was the notable exception: she watched Lily conjure a rabbit out of a hat with as
stern an expression as ever. Even old Professor Binns must have known what had happened
with Sally Dearborn, as he gave Lily her first-ever 'O' on her History of Magic exam.
There was one exam, however, that she wasn't guaranteed to pass. The Apparition licensing
exam took place only a few days before the end of the term. Lily was more nervous about
this exam than all the others combined: she wasn't sure she could handle the embarrassment
if she Splinched herself again, and in full view of Instructor Twycross this time.

At ten o'clock on Saturday morning, Lily and the other sixth years who were of age met in
the Entrance Hall, where a trio of disgruntled-looking Aurors was waiting to escort them to
Hogsmeade. Only a few sixth-year Slytherins joined the group, as Mulciber had been
expelled, and Avery was nowhere to be seen. Severus stood alone, skulking by the giant
hourglasses that tallied the House points. Lily noted with satisfaction that there were far more
rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass than emeralds in Slytherin hourglass beside it.

Instructor Twycross was waiting outside of the Three Broomsticks, alongside a handful of
Ministry wizards in grey robes. They all had the same pale, insubstantial look to them, like
they were part-ghost. Side-effect of too much Apparition, thought Lily with a shudder.

"Welcome to your Apparition exam," said Instructor Twycross. "To obtain a licence, you
must Apparate thrice in quick succession. Unsuccessful Apparition, including Apparating to
an incorrect destination, is grounds for immediate failure. Splinching will also result in
failure, as well as a thirty-day ban on retaking the exam."

Lily swore he looked at her as he said this.

One of the examiners, an elderly witch with oddly colourless eyes, shepherded Lily into a
group with Sirius Black, James Potter, and a handful of Ravenclaws. "We shall Apparate
from Madam Puddifoot's to Honeydukes, and then to the Shrieking Shack," said the examiner
in a thin, wavering voice. "After the entire group has reached the Shrieking Shack, you are to
Apparate to the Three Broomsticks, where Instructor Twycross will be waiting. He will
provide you with the results of your examination, as well as your licence, if you pass."

"Excellent," said Sirius. "See you at Madam Puddifoot's, then." And he spun on his heel and
Disapparated with a resounding crack.

The Ministry witch blinked several times, not sure what to make of Sirius' sudden
disappearance. The Ravenclaws stared disapprovingly at the space Sirius had previously
occupied, as if he had somehow cheated. Lily glanced at James; he was grinning proudly.

When they reached Madam Puddifoot's, Sirius was leaning against the shop's pink door,
looking very pleased with himself. "I'll go first, shall I?" he asked the examiner.

"That is acceptable," said the witch in her quavering voice. She pulled out a tarnished silver
pocketwatch whose colour matched her hair. "You shall Apparate in five-minute intervals.
That will give me enough time to ensure that nothing is… left behind."

The wispy little examiner spoke with such relish that Lily suspected she was actually excited
at the prospect of somebody getting Splinched.

Sirius was the first to Disapparate, followed by the Ravenclaws, who seemed eager to prove
that they, too, had mastered the art of Apparition. James turned to Lily when they were the
only two left. "Ladies first," he said.

"Thanks, but that's alright," said Lily. "You go ahead." If she was destined to Splinch herself
again, she certainly didn't want James Potter to witness it.

James shrugged. "Suit yourself." He turned on his heel and Disapparated with a crack,
leaving Lily alone with the examiner.

"Nervous, are we?" asked the examiner, giving Lily a knowing look.

"Not really," lied Lily.

The old witch clucked her tongue. Lily wondered if the examiner knew that she had
Apparated illegally and was due to face the Wizengamot because of it. Probably, she thought.
Instructor Twycross knew, and he seemed like the gossipy sort.

After five minutes had passed, the examiner nodded at Lily. "Careful not to Splinch yourself,
dearie. If you leave behind a single red hair from that pretty head of yours, I'll have no choice
but to fail you."

"What makes you think I'm going to Splinch myself?" retorted Lily. She stared evenly at the
examiner, daring her to mention the Wizengamot trial.

The examiner went slightly pale; even her robes seemed to become more transparent. "No
harm meant, dearie. Very few Muggle-borns pass on the first try, you know."

Lily's stomach, which had been in knots, grew hot with anger. If there was one thing she was
good at, it was defying expectations. "What makes you think I'm Muggle-born?"

The examiner tapped the list of names on her clipboard. "My poor dear, it says here that your
surname…"

"…is Abbot," snapped Lily.

The wrinkles on the examiner's forehead deepened. She checked her clipboard, confused.

Serves you right, you old crone, Lily thought, and she turned sharply on her heel.

She reappeared outside of Honeydukes. Sirius and the Ravenclaws were nowhere to be seen;
they must have already Apparated to the Shrieking Shack.

"Alright, Evans?"

She looked up; James was sitting on the roof of the shop.

"Yeah, fine," she said. "Why do you ask?"

"Your face is all red. Did you have trouble Apparating?"

"No," said Lily defensively. James quirked an eyebrow, and she let out a breath, willing
herself to calm down. "Our examiner is a hag."

"Really?" asked James. He jumped off the roof and landed beside her. "Did she try to make a
deal with you? Your firstborn in exchange for an Apparition licence, something along those
lines?"

"She had the nerve to suggest I might fail. Loads of Muggle-borns do, she said. As if my
blood has anything to do with it."

"That's just batty," said James. "Doesn't she know that Lily Evans has never failed an exam in
her life?"

Lily smiled despite herself. "Someone ought to let her know."

"I'm sure she'll change her tune after seeing your flawless Apparition technique," said James.
"Shall we head on to the Shack, then, to stay ahead of the hag?"

He held out a hand to her. Lily hesitated. Was he suggesting they Apparate together? After a
moment, she put her hand in his. His palm was surprisingly calloused.

He smiled reassuringly at her. "On three. One… two —"

There was a loud crack, and James let go of Lily's hand. For a moment, she thought that he'd
Disapparated, but no; when she opened her eyes, he was still there, an expression of surprise
and anger on his face as he glared at —

"My apologies," said an all-too-familiar voice. "Meant to Apparate to the post office, but I
must have overshot the mark."

Lily whirled around. Severus had appeared by Honeydukes' window display; his lip curled as
he caught sight of James.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said, addressing James. "You ought to have Apparated to
the Shrieking Shack already."

"Is that so?" said James. "Hoping to catch Lily alone, were you?"

Severus' eyes burned with hatred. With what seemed like a great effort, he refocused his
attention on Lily. "We need to talk. About what happened in the dungeons."

"I have nothing to say to you," hissed Lily.

"Well, I have something to say to you. I've been thinking, and only one explanation makes
sense. Did Regulus —"

Severus broke off. James had stepped in front of Lily, putting himself between her and
Severus. "Didn't you hear, Snivellus? She doesn't want to talk."
"James," said Lily warningly. Now was really not the time for him to antagonise Severus, not
after he'd nearly died at Severus' hand —

"Don't be foolish, Potter," said Severus. "Leave us. Unless you want a reminder of what
happened the last time we met…" His hand drifted towards his wand.

Lily tensed, ready for the duel that was sure to come. Either James would hesitate, giving
Severus the opening he needed, or else James would whip out his own wand and curse
Severus first.

To her surprise, James put his arms behind his head, looking amused. "Sorry, Sev. Wish we
could stay and have another grand confrontation — I'd love a couple more scars — but Lily
and I need to finish our Apparition Exam. If you'll excuse us…"

Severus' hateful expression grew even more twisted as the corners of his mouth turned down.
He looked at Lily. "Since when are you on a first-name basis with Potter?"

Lily wasn't proud of what she said next. She wasn't sure what made her do it, aside from the
fact that she knew that it would hurt Severus worse than the Cruciatus Curse. And God, did
she want to hurt him.

"James and I are dating," she said. "So he can call me whatever he likes."

The look on Severus' face was delicious. He seemed to go through the stages of grief all at
once: first shock, then disbelief, then anger and betrayal crossed his sallow face. He stared at
her, apparently unable to comprehend what she'd just said.

"You…" he spluttered. "He… you…"

James was looking at her with a similarly stunned expression. Lily gave him a pointed look,
silently willing him to go along with it.

"Erm, yeah, that's right," said James, catching on. "We're, er, definitely dating."

Severus' face finally settled into a murderous expression. "I knew it," he snarled. "I knew you
had feelings for him. You've fancied him all along, haven't you? Even last year, when he
would curse me for sport. You always defended him. I knew it."

"It's true," said Lily coldly. "I've fancied James for ages. Glad you've finally cottoned on."

Because she wanted to twist the knife even deeper, she turned to James and grabbed his
hands. "Let's get out of here," she said, and she bounced on her toes and kissed him clumsily
on the mouth.

Severus' jaw dropped.

James didn't kiss her back; he seemed to be in shock. Lily squeezed his limp hands, hoping
she wouldn't regret this, and turned on her heel, Apparating both of them to the Shrieking
Shack.
As they reappeared on the grubby pavement outside the Shack, they stumbled apart. James
staggered into the sixth-year Ravenclaws, who were waiting nearby.

Sirius whistled loudly and caught James by the shoulders. "Do mine eyes deceive me? Prongs
and Wondergirl, enjoying a Side-Along snog?"

Oh, my God, thought Lily. What have I done?

 The Heir and the Spare
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

"…And that's when they appeared outside the Shrieking Shack, tangled in each other's arms,
half their clothes had been Vanished —"

"Padfoot," said James exasperatedly. They were in the boys' dormitory, packing their things;
it was the last day of term, and Sirius was taking the opportunity to retell what had happened
during their Apparition Exam for the hundredth time.

"What?" asked Sirius innocently.

"That's not what happened." James waved his wand, and the Quidditch paraphernalia on his
bedside table jumped into his trunk.

"James," said Remus, "are you suggesting that Sirius' recollections are not entirely in line
with reality?"

"Hard as that may be to believe…" said James.

Remus was folding his robes by hand. "Allow me to register my astonishment. Padfoot's an
incredibly reliable source, this is the first time anyone's suggested otherwise…"

Sirius threw one of his dress shoes at Remus. "You're supposed to be on my side, Moony. I
know what I saw. And I saw two young Gryffindors in the throes of passion, consummating
their love during a Ministry exam —"

Peter sighed. "You're so lucky, Prongs. I wish I was dating Lily Evans."

"I dunno how many times I have to tell you this, Pete, but we're not dating," said James.

He'd been saying this for days. It never had any effect.

"You are dating," said Sirius confidently.

"Half the school is saying you are," added Peter.

"Three-quarters, by my last count," said Remus.

"Yeah," said James, "but three-quarters of the school also thinks that Mulciber tried to feed
Sally to his pet Manticore in the dungeons, so…" He locked his trunk and slung his
broomstick over his shoulder. "Ready, you lot? The carriages leave in ten."

"Think it'll be weird?" asked Sirius. "Taking the train again, after…?"
He trailed off, letting the rest of his question hang in the air unsaid. During the end of year
feast, Dumbledore had announced that the Hogwarts Express would resume its usual business
of taking them to London. Supposedly, the train's magical defences had been strengthened to
such an extent that an attack from Lord Voldemort was no longer possible. James suspected
that Dumbledore would be making the journey to London with them from now on; he
couldn't think of any other measure that would deter Voldemort as strongly.

"Does Lily think you're dating?" asked Peter as they lugged their trunks to the ground floor.

"Er," said James. "I dunno." He was eighty per cent certain she had only kissed him to
provoke Severus Snape. He had to admire her form; she'd done a better job pissing off Snape
than James ever had, and he'd had years of practice.

But that didn't mean he and Lily were dating. He would have asked her about it — surely she
would know whether or not they were a couple — except he wasn't entirely sure how to go
about doing so. Suppose she'd really meant it when she'd said she fancied him? He'd sound
like an arsehole if he accused her of having ulterior motives.

Not to mention — he was so lost in thought that he stumbled on a trick step — not to mention
that he really didn't want to consider the possibility that it was all a ruse. If she'd only kissed
him to piss off Snape… if she'd lied about fancying him…

She kissed me because she knows I was mad about her, thought James. She knew I'd let her
do it. The thought made him feel physically ill. He'd rather lose a Quidditch match — maybe
even two — than accept that Lily might have taken advantage of him like that.

James forced himself to remain positive. It was a good thing the school year was over. He'd
go to his parent's summer home in Norfolk, and Lily would go to her Muggle village with the
funny name, and by August they'd surely have both forgotten about the whole ordeal. They
could start afresh.

Feeling considerably better about the whole thing, James shoved his trunk into the back of
one of the carriages. Satisfied, he opened the carriage door, ready to climb inside, when he
found himself face to face with —

His mind went blank.

"Are you alright?" asked Peter.

"Erm," said James. He was staring at a winged, skeletal horse whose head was inches from
his face.

"Oh," said Remus, in the tone of someone who had just realised they needed to bear very bad
news to a person who hadn't heard it yet. "I'm so sorry, Prongs. I didn't know. You've
never…?"

"No," said James. He couldn't tear his eyes from the cadaverous creature in front of him.

Peter had a worried look on his face. "James, what —?"

"It's obvious, isn't it, Pete?" said Sirius, who had cottoned on immediately. He turned to
James. "You can see thestrals now, can't you?"

"Erm," said James again. "Yeah, I guess. Looks like I can."

Remus put a hand on James' shoulder. "It's alright, Prongs. I know they're a bit… well,
horrible. But they're gentle creatures." He produced a strip of dried meat from out of nowhere
and placed it in James' hand. "Why don't you try feeding it?"

James didn't particularly want to feed the thestral, but didn't see how he could refuse without
looking foolish. He held the strip of dried meat out to the thestral, which gulped it out of his
hand. It had fangs inside its horrible mouth.

Peter squinted, as though he'd be able to see the thestral if he only focused a little harder.
"Who did you see die? I thought Sally —"

"The girl on the train," said James dully, and Peter shut up at once, looking horrified. "The
one You-Know-Who killed. Amy Roberts."

Remus patted the thestral, and it nuzzled his shoulder in a gesture that was strangely
affectionate. "Good girl. Would you mind taking us to Hogsmeade station? Quickly, if you
don't mind — I think we're running late."

Nobody spoke during the carriage ride to Hogsmeade; they seemed to be waiting for James to
say something first, and he didn't feel particularly inclined. When they arrived at Hogsmeade
station, the Hogwarts Express was already chugging away from the platform; they ran
towards the train in a flat-out sprint, and an Auror with a bald head helped them aboard.

To James' surprise, their usual compartment at the back of the train was already occupied by
the sixth-year Gryffindor girls.

"It's about time," said Marlene. "We thought you lot might've piled atop Sirius' motorbike and
flown to London."

"Next time," said Sirius, tossing his trunk into the luggage rack. "Budge up, will you? You
girls are taking up the entire compartment, there's no room…"

Marlene tugged on Sirius' sleeve to make him sit down, though he ended up half in her lap.
There was an obvious empty seat beside Lily, but Peter opted to squeeze himself in between
Mary and Parvana instead, and Remus sat on the floor.

As if on cue, everyone turned to watch James expectantly. Sirius raised his eyebrows and
motioned towards Lily with a gesture he probably thought was subtle. Lily, for her part, was
looking anywhere but at James.

James considered sitting next to Remus on the floor but figured he'd look like a prat if he did.

"Erm," he said. He cleared his throat; a bit of phlegm had gotten stuck there. "Mind if I sit
here, Lily?"
"Oh," said Lily, sounding as though she had just realised there was an empty seat beside her.
"That's fine, I'll just…" She moved towards Marlene, leaving plenty of space for James.

"Thanks," said James, and she flashed him a quick smile. He was careful not to touch even
the hem of her robes as he sat down.

Sirius snickered, which turned into a yelp as Marlene elbowed him in the ribs. "What?" he
said indignantly. "I didn't —"

"First things first," said Marlene, sounding smug. "The Year in Review."

"God, what a year it's been," said Mary, and Peter nodded in agreement.

"That's an understatement," said Marlene. "Show of hands, Gryffindors: who's had an

excellent year?"

She stuck her hand in the air, though she seemed to do so more out of defiance than any
genuine feeling. Nobody else raised their hand right away. Finally, Peter put his hand up with
a little shrug. Parvana was next to raise her hand, followed by Remus. Sirius made a half-
gesture that could have gone either way. Mary raised her hand, though she looked unsure
about it.

Marlene looked at Lily and James expectantly. "Well?"

"It's complicated," said Lily.

James nodded, relieved that Lily had spoken first. 'Complicated' was the perfect word to
describe the year he'd had.

"Of course it is," said Marlene. "But you can still have an excellent year. I did."

"Lily's got a point," said James. He tried to ignore the way his friends' heads snapped towards
him, as if he'd just said something unbelievable. "Some really good things happened this year,
it's true. We threw some smashing seventeenth birthday parties, won the Quidditch Cup, got
Mulciber expelled…"

"Here, here," said Peter.

"Yeah," said Sirius, "plus we invented the Mar—"

"Marmite on toast," finished Remus, with a glance at Sirius.

"Er, right," said James. "All of that's been brilliant. But other things happened, too. Not-so-
brilliant things. The attack on the train… and the students who were killed… That wasn't
excellent. It was horrible."

"Exactly," said Lily, and there was no mistaking the way the rest of the compartment gawked
at her for agreeing with him. "How can I say I've had an excellent year when Sally spent six
months trapped in a painting? When I had to tell my mum that our family isn't safe
anymore?" she turned to Marlene. "James nearly died a few weeks ago. Of course he hasn't
had an excellent year!"

Marlene was momentarily speechless. "You've got a point, actually," she said at last. "Alright,
then. Six out of the eight of us did have an excellent year, so… that's an Acceptable, that's
fine. Moving on… did we win the Quidditch Cup?"

"You'd better fucking believe we did," said Sirius. Mary gave Parvana a hug.

"Second year in a row," said Marlene proudly. "Fantastic work."

"Speaking of fantastic," said Remus, "the House Cup…"

Peter and Mary began to chant. "Second place! Second place!"

"I can't believe it actually happened," said Lily. "You lot must've turned over a new leaf,
we're usually last by hundreds of points…"

"It was all Dumbledore's doing, God bless him," said Sirius. "He just so happened to award
you and James the exact number of points we needed to propel us comfortably into second
place."

"You realise what this means, though," said Marlene. "Next year we'll have to do even better.
We'll have to get first place."

Nobody spoke for a moment. Then the compartment erupted in laughter.

"First place!" said Sirius, wiping his eyes. "Gryffindor, winning the House Cup!"

Marlene looked indignant. "It could happen!"

"No, it couldn't," said Remus.

Lily patted Marlene's hand consolingly. "It was a nice thought, anyway."

Peter looked thoughtful. "We might have a chance at the Cup if James and Lily play the hero
again. Dumbledore might give extra points if they rescue a teacher next time."

"Yeah," said Sirius. "What're the chances that McGonagall finds herself in mortal peril next
year, d'you think?"

"I think Minnie's a damn sight more competent than I am," said James.

"True," said Marlene. "You might have to save Professor Kettleburn from himself though, I
think his pet Kneazle took off a finger last week… again... Anyway, next topic — let's talk
about romance."

"Let's not," said James and Lily at the same time.

Marlene arched an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"

"Er," said James uncomfortably. He was acutely aware that Parvana was watching him.
"What's there to talk about? Bit of a boring topic, really, romance… Best to leave some
things, er, private, you know…"

"There's no need to be shy, Prongs," said Sirius. "Everybody knows you and Lily are
snogging."

"Okay," said Lily, "we are not —"

Peter looked confused. "But Sirius swears he saw you two —"

"You went a bit further than snogging, didn't you?" Mary asked Lily. "That's what Sirius told
me, at least, he said he even caught a glimpse of James' —"

"OY!" shouted James.

Peter and Mary laughed. Parvana smiled nervously.

"We're not judging you," said Marlene. "It's about time, after all."

"That's great," said James, "except we didn't snog, and we certainly didn't —"

"Has anybody got a Pensieve?" asked Sirius loudly, standing up. "I will submit for this jury's
consideration, one untarnished memory of James Potter and Lily Evans, mid-air and eating
each other's faces…"

Remus made a show of patting his pockets. "Crumbs, I must have left my Pensieve in the
boys' dormitory. Silly of me, I ought to carry a spare…"

Sirius was now enthusiastically acting out the activity he had supposedly seen James and Lily
engaged in. Lily buried her face in her hands.

"Sirius," said James exasperatedly, "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but would you give it a
rest?"

He gestured at Lily, whose face was still hidden behind her hands.

Sirius deflated a little. "Alright, alright," he said, and he reached out to rub Lily's shoulder
affectionately. "I'm sorry, Wondergirl — got a bit carried away, that's all. Can you forgive
me?"

Lily peeked at him from behind her fingers. "Apology accepted, but you'll have to make it up
to me. I want five Cauldron Cakes off the trolley."

"Done." Sirius pulled open the door of the compartment and bounded into the corridor.

Mary turned to Lily and James, her expression earnest. "Now that he's gone, you can tell us
the truth. We won't take the mickey."

"Yeah, out with it," said Marlene.

"Yeah," echoed Parvana. She flashed James a small, encouraging smile.

"Erm," said James. He still wasn't entirely clear on what the truth actually was. He looked
helplessly towards Lily.

Lily crossed her arms and gave everyone in the compartment a disparaging look. "Well, we're
not shagging. Sorry to disappoint."

Mary stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. "I knew Sirius' story sounded too good to be true."

"That's too bad," agreed Marlene. "Did you two even snog?"

"Nah," said James. He was trying very hard to sound as if he didn't mind discussing with the
entire compartment whether or not he and Lily Evans had, in fact, pressed their lips together.

Peter looked crestfallen. "You didn't even kiss?"

"'Fraid not," said James breezily. "You know how Sirius gets, that imagination of his…"

"Yeah," said Lily, seeming bolstered by James' response. "I think he made it all up for a
laugh."

"What a shame," said Mary, shaking her head. Remus leaned towards Peter and muttered
something that sounded very much like 'back to the drawing board'.

Parvana, who up to this point had looked vaguely uncomfortable, spoke up. "I snogged
someone."

"We know," said Marlene. "You and James, right?"

"No," said Parvana. "Well, yes, but after that. There's a bloke in Ravenclaw I've been seeing.
Bilius Weasley, do you know him?"

"Ooh, yes," said Mary. "Isn't he one of their Beaters, the ginger one?"

Parvana's cheeks darkened as she nodded.

Marlene whistled appreciatively. "Nice going. Though Weasley's not exactly my type…"

James felt like he was short-circuiting. He'd been certain that the talk of him and Lily would
have hurt Parvana's feelings, or made her feel uncomfortable. But if she had moved on and
was seeing someone else… Maybe his caution wasn't necessary.

"Alright," said Marlene, tallying up their points. "So we've got snogs from Parvana and
James… I'll count Parvana twice, since she's had two boyfriends this year…"

"Peter and I snogged after we won the Quidditch Cup," offered Mary.

"Again?" asked Remus.

"It's our tradition," said Peter proudly.

"Good work," said Marlene. "So that's you four, plus Sirius — I'm sure he's snogged
something, even if it was just his reflection. And if Parvana counts twice…" She counted on
her fingers. "Another Acceptable! That's not bad at all."

"Better than last year, at least," agreed Lily.

Sirius returned with his arms full of enough sweets for the whole compartment. After
everyone had eaten their fill, they began to play an elaborate game of Exploding Snap as the
Hogwarts Express trundled through the English countryside. After the fourth round, Mary
peered out the window. "I don't believe it! Are we in London already?"

What followed was a mad scramble as everyone changed out of their robes and grabbed their
belongings before a harried-looking pair of Aurors ushered them off the train and onto
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

As the Aurors steered him this way and that, James quickly found himself separated from the
others; the platform bustled with so much activity that it was impossible to stick together. At
last, he caught a glimpse of red hair in the crowd, and he elbowed his way through the
throng.

"Evans!"

She turned, her eyes widening as she caught sight of him.

"Evans," he said again once he had reached her. "Can we talk?"

She looked hurt. "Back to calling me Evans, are you?"

"Er, sorry," he said. "Lily. D'you mind if we, erm, have a chat?"

"Here?" said Lily, looking around the crowded platform.

James glanced about; nobody was paying them any mind. "I'll make it quick. Just wanted to
talk, erm, about what happened. During our Apparition exam."

Lily went scarlet. "Oh."

"Yeah," said James, who felt as uncomfortable as Lily looked. "Not that — look, I'm not
upset, but… it was sudden, wasn't it? Not the exam, I mean — the, erm…" He gestured
vaguely, as he'd apparently lost the ability to form complete sentences. "I'm a bit confused,
that's all."

Lily's cheeks were so red he thought steam might pour out of her ears. "The whole castle
thinks we're dating," she said miserably.

"Yeah," he said. "So, erm. Are we?"

Lily nearly dropped her trunk. "Are you serious?"

"Er. Sort of."

"You are serious." She looked amazed. "You're honestly asking me if we're dating."

Her tone of voice made James feel foolish. "You said it first!" he said defensively. "You told
Severus that I was your boyfriend. And then you kissed me."

"Shh!" said Lily. She looked around frantically, as though the first years clustered nearby
were trying to eavesdrop. "Do you really have to say it out loud like that?"

"What? It's not like it's a secret. One moment you're kissing me —"

"— can you please lower your voice —"

"— and the next you're acting like nothing ever happened. You see why I'm confused."

"James." She looked uncomfortable. "We're not dating."

"Ah," he said stupidly. He'd suspected as much, but it still stung.

Lily bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" said James, whose voice sounded falsely chipper and entirely unlike himself. "I
mean, it makes sense. Of course we aren't dating. If we were, we'd be shagging each other.
But we're not. So."

Lily graciously ignored the bit about shagging. "I am sorry, though. It was a stupid thing for
me to say. And it was stupid of me to kiss you like that."

"Nah, it was brilliant," said James. "Did you see the look on Snape's face?"

Lily's lips twitched. "He nearly had a coronary, didn't he?"

"That's putting it mildly," said James. He had a sudden bolt of inspiration. "Listen. We should
keep this up next year."

"What? But we're not —"

"Dating? I know. But Snivellus doesn't."

Lily's eyebrows drew together. He liked her eyebrows; they were a decent size, not too thin
but not too bushy, either. "What are you suggesting?"

"Just that we pretend we're dating. Not all the time, but in front of Snivellus, at least. Maybe
that way he'll finally leave you alone."

Lily looked thoughtful. "That's… not a bad idea, actually. I can't stand him. He won't stay
away from me, nothing works… But if he sees me with you…"

"He'd have to keep his distance," said James. "After what happened in the dungeons, he'll be
expelled if he so much as looks at me funny."
She looked him up and down appraisingly. "I suppose pretending to date you wouldn't be so
bad. Especially if it keeps Sev away."

"Right," said James, bouncing on his toes excitedly. She didn't hate the idea! "I'll write to you
over the holidays — we can make up a story about how we fell in love over the summer, or
some nonsense like that. Remus is surprisingly good at spreading rumours, once we go back
to Hogwarts it'll spread like wildfire…"

"Good idea," said Lily. "But we'll probably need some ground rules, too. So we don't
overstep each other's boundaries."

"Brilliant," lied James, who didn't find the thought of rules brilliant at all. He pulled a scrap
of parchment out of his bag and scribbled on it. "Here's my address… Just send me an owl
once you're home and we'll work everything out, alright?"

Lily examined the bit of parchment, smiling. "I'm looking forward to it. Have a lovely
summer, James.”

There was a spring in James' step as he wheeled his trunk towards his parents, who were
seated on a bench further down the platform. He waved at them, and his mum rose with
difficulty, grasping his father's arm for support.

James' heart twinged painfully; though his parents looked elated to see him, it was clear that
neither had fully recovered from their bout with dragonpox. His father limped towards him,
leaning heavily on a cane. When he embraced James, his arms were as strong as ever.

Dragonpox and Dark Lords be damned, thought James as he hugged his father. At that
moment, he felt very firmly that everything would be alright. Lily Evans was going to send
him an owl, and he was going home.

Severus pressed his forehead against the window of the empty train compartment, staring at
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. His eyes glazed over as he took in the usual end-of-year
hustle and bustle, the parents reuniting with children, the students bidding each other tearful,
exaggerated goodbyes, as though it would be years rather than months before they saw each
other again, the Aurors shepherding people along the platform…

His vision sharpened into focus. There.

There they were. Lily Evans and James Potter were conversing earnestly, heedless of the
crowd flowing past them, like a stone in the midst of a river.

What were they talking about? He wished he could read lips. He pressed his forehead harder
against the glass, as if that would somehow help his hearing.
Lily was so focused on James. Her eyes — even at this distance, he could see their brilliant
emerald colour — her eyes never wandered from his face. She ogled him like he had a set of
detailed Potions instructions written across his forehead that she needed to memorise.

At that moment, Severus hated James Potter more than he'd ever hated anyone. His heart
blazed with anger, then crumbled into ash. Lily had never looked at Severus like that, and
likely never would.

"Pathetic."

He whirled around. Bellatrix Black was standing in the carriage doorway, tall and pale, her
face wreathed by a mass of dark, tangled hair.

"Surprise," she said, waggling a finger at him. "Are you happy to see me?"

"Thrilled," said Severus drily. "And a bit perplexed. I was under the impression that Death
Eaters are not welcome aboard the Hogwarts Express."

Bellatrix picked a bit of dirt from under her long fingernails. "A few of the Aurors are
Imperiused. Have been for months, now. I'll let you guess which ones." She grinned, though
the act seemed to stretch the skin on her face in odd ways.

Severus was not in the mood for games. "Why are you here?"

"Because I'm disappointed in you." She stepped towards him, and the interior of the
compartment grew inexplicably dark. It was as though the lantern light was swallowed by her
mere presence, her black robes and wild hair.

Severus blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. "You're here because of
what happened with Sally, I assume."

"I'm here because of mistakes you made," she hissed.

"Me? It was Regulus who got cold feet, he went behind our backs to hide Sally away —"

Her laugh was shrill and mirthless. "Wrong again, Severus! Didn't it ever occur to you that
Regulus had help?"

Just like that, the pieces clicked into place. "You knew," said Severus flatly. "You were in on
it the entire time."

"Of course I was," said Bellatrix. "My pathetic little cousin has always been obedient to a
fault; I doubt he uses the toilet without asking his mummy and daddy for permission. He
would never have hidden Sally on his own initiative."

"Is that so? Because I was privy to his memories, and —"

"You were wrong, Severus!" shrieked Bellatrix, and the anger in her voice caused the lanterns
in the corridor to flicker. "Blinded by your own arrogance! Sally Dearborn walks free
because of YOU!"
Severus' heartbeat quickened; he felt as though he were a rabbit that had just stepped into a
trap. "I can explain."

"Your words are worthless," she spat. "Do you think the Dark Lord cares to hear your
snivelling excuses when you are the reason his plans have been foiled? If not for you, he
would have granted Sally the highest of honours — her death was to propel him to ever-
higher summits of greatness, heights that no other mortal has dared to reach…"

Severus' palms were clammy. "Did Regulus know of that plan?"

"Why do you care?" she retorted. "Perhaps he did, and he accepted Sally's sacrifice as
necessary. Or perhaps I hid it from him, because too much information can be dangerous, and
he already knew more than enough to play his part well… at least until you came along," she
added with a snarl.

Bellatrix was itching to punish Severus: that much was clear. He wished she would stop
beating around the bush and do it already. A detached voice in the back of his mind wondered
which punishment she would choose. Was he about to undergo the Cruciatus Curse, and
suffer pain beyond his wildest imagining, or would she opt for another, more heinous
punishment? At least the pain of the Cruciatus Curse was temporary; he could think of a
dozen other curses whose effects would linger.

Bellatrix must have noticed that his mind was elsewhere, because she cocked her head,
confused. "Aren't you afraid, little Severus?"

Severus let his thoughts slide beneath the placid barriers of Occlumency. "Why should I be?"
he said. "You are here to reprimand me, perhaps even torture me; either way, the outlook is
unpleasant. But I expect my punishment to be brief — you will be forced to leave soon, after
all, when the Aurors perform a last check of the train — and I doubt you will cause me
permanent harm."

Bella's mouth stretched into a malevolent smile; her square, straight teeth had gone slightly
yellow. "Do you think I'm going to curse you, little Severus?"

"I expect nothing less, considering your proficiency in the Dark Arts."

Bella gave this some thought, tapping her wand against her chin. "True. Lucius asked me not
to, you know, but you do have a point. Crucio!"

Blinding pain ripped through Severus' body, overwhelming his senses — it was pain beyond
pain, every one of his nerves had been set afire and he was burning, burning — he fell to the
floor, his limbs contorting involuntarily — a scream tore from his mouth, filling the carriage
—

The pain stopped as quickly as it had started. Bella had lifted her wand. "You'll attract the
Aurors, squealing like that," she said with a pout.

Severus rose from the floor, gritting his teeth. "My… apologies," he panted.
"I hope you've learned your lesson," said Bella, sticking her wand in her hair. "No more
sabotaging your fellow Death Eaters, lest the Dark Lord decide you are more useful to him as
a corpse. He's got an army of Inferi to build, you know…"

"Charming," said Severus. "Though Regulus and I are not yet Death Eaters."

"And a chicken's egg is not yet a basilisk," said Bella dismissively. "Poor Regulus is in for a
punishment of his own, you know."

"Why? If you approve of what he did…"

"Oh, it isn't related to Sally Dearborn," said Bella. "His parents caught wind of the fact that
his elder brother's been tampering with their accounts. Supplying gold to the other side, you
know. That was the straw that broke the Erumpent's back, so to speak… My aunt and uncle
have finally realised that Sirius is more trouble than he's worth. They've decided to make
Regulus the sole heir to the House of Black."

Severus imagined Regulus as an adult, humourless and restrained, seated in an exquisitely

furnished study with house-elves at his beck and call. He would be the polished heir that
every pure-blooded family dreamed of having.

"A wise decision by the Blacks," said Severus. "Though I admit I fail to see the punishment
here."

"Oh, I have no doubt baby Regulus will be up for the task," said Bella. "He'll be the proper,
Death Eater son that they've always dreamed of having. But I can't imagine he'll like it."

A scuttling, scraping noise came from the corridor. It sounded like an enormous spider was
scurrying towards them.

"The trolley witch," said Bella, pulling her wand out of her hair. "Time for me to take my
leave, then."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "The Dark Lord's right hand, Bellatrix Black, frightened of the
trolley witch?"

"So should you be, if you knew what she was," snapped Bella.

Outside the compartment, long, claw-like fingers scraped against the door, rattling the handle.
Severus gulped and pulled his battered trunk from the luggage rack. "I assume you'll be in
touch."

"If I can be bothered," said Bella. "If you don't disappoint me again. Behave over the
summer, and the Dark Lord might have a task for you when you return to Hogwarts… If he
can be convinced that those who Follow him at Hogwarts are more than a gang of foolish
schoolchildren…"

She spun on her heel, but instead of disappearing with a crack, her body dissolved into a
cloud of thick black smoke that filled the compartment. The acrid smell of the smoke made
Severus cough, and he forced open a window, eyes watering. By the time he stepped into the
corridor, the smoke had dissipated, and the trolley witch, whatever she was, was nowhere to
be seen. The only proof that Bellatrix Black had ever been aboard the Hogwarts Express was
the lingering stench of death and decay.

Sirius scanned Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, looking for Kreacher, but the diminutive
house-elf was impossible to find amidst the crush of students, Aurors, and wizarding
families. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the crowded platform — an elderly wizard
collided with his back, which he ignored — and stepped atop his trunk, craning his neck to
see above the heads of the crowd.

A bit of movement at the far end of the platform caught his eye. Regulus, he thought. His
brother was stepping through the barrier to King's Cross, Kreacher in tow.

Sirius sprinted down the platform and hurtled through the barrier with such speed that a pair
of Muggles on the other side gasped, startled at his sudden presence. Regulus and Kreacher
were already several yards away and walking at a brisk pace, apparently unaware that they'd
forgotten him.

"Leaving without me?" called Sirius, jogging towards them.

Regulus slowed, but Kreacher continued to march determinedly forward, although surely
Sirius' voice had reached his large, batlike ears. When it became clear that Regulus was no
longer following him, Kreacher, too, turned around reluctantly.

"Come along, Master," croaked Kreacher, tugging at the hem of Regulus' robes. "Master
ought to hurry home, he needn't talk to his brother..."

"Oh, shut up, Kreacher," snapped Sirius, which earned him some alarmed looks from the
Muggle passersby. Muggles couldn't see house-elves, so they probably thought he was
picking a quarrel with Regulus.

"Master Sirius is cruel to poor Kreacher," said the house-elf, clinging to Regulus' robes. "But
Kreacher turns the other cheek, oh yes, Kreacher is used to such treatment, Kreacher is
patient and meek…"

"Yeah, real patient, leaving me on the platform like that," said Sirius. "It wouldn't have killed
you to wait two more minutes for me, would it?"

"Sirius…" said Regulus.

"It's fine," said Sirius. He gave the worried-looking Muggles a cheery wave. "Go home
without me, I don't care. I've got my Apparition license now, so I'll see you at Grimmauld
Place."
"Master Sirius is not welcome at Grimmauld Place!" hissed Kreacher. Before Sirius could
respond, the house-elf grabbed Regulus' arm and dragged him behind the barrier dividing
platforms three and four, where they vanished with a soft pop.

Sirius stared at the spot where they'd been. Not welcome? he thought. Well, to say he'd ever
been welcome at home was a bit of a stretch. His parents tolerated his presence, at best.

Something dark and hot began to burn in his stomach. He'd told Kreacher to shut up, but
Kreacher had continued to speak. House-elves couldn't disobey a direct order from their
masters. Unless…

Unless Kreacher no longer considered Sirius his master.

They wouldn't dare, thought Sirius, although the fire in his chest burned hotter and angrier
than ever. His parents couldn't have disowned him, not after all the effort he'd gone through
to win their trust. They hadn't blasted him off the tapestry. He would have felt something if
they had. Wouldn't he?

Sirius spun on his heel and reappeared on the front step of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

He tried the handle, which was locked. His heart began to pound a furious rhythm, his
suspicions confirmed. The door had never been locked in all seventeen years that he'd lived at
Grimmauld Place. It always opened for a Black.

"OPEN UP!" he roared. He beat his fist against the door, impervious to the splinters that hid
beneath the peeling paint.

The door swung open. Walburga Black stared disdainfully at him, as though she'd expected
him to make a scene and was disgusted to have been proved right.

"You disowned me?" His fists were clenched so tight it might have hurt if he hadn't been so
enraged.

"You left us no choice," she replied coolly.

"No choice? No choice? But I didn't — why?"

Walburga sniffed. "You thought you were so clever, tampering with your father's accounts.
Well. Enough is enough."

It was as if she'd thrown a bucket of water atop the fire burning in his chest. Sirius stared at
her, incredulous. "The accounts? That's it?" It seemed like such a small offence, given
everything else he'd done over the years.

Walburga allowed herself a small, triumphant smile at his bewilderment. "You only have
yourself to blame," she said. "We gave you chance after chance — far more than most parents
— but even we have our limits. Enough."

"You're bluffing," said Sirius. "You don't have it in you. All those letters you sent me, those
months you spent begging me to come home — you haven't disowned me. I'm your son."
At last her composure broke; her voice came out as a hiss. "You are no son of mine!"

There was a beat. Sirius stared at his mother, disbelieving. "You're lying," he said. "I can
prove it. KREACHER!"

But the house-elf didn't come.

"Kreacher," said Sirius again, with less certainty.

"Your own father blasted you off the tapestry," said Walburga savagely. "He was happy to do
it, he'd wanted to for years — he wondered why we didn't do it sooner, in fact…"

"Well, the joke's on you, then, if he did," said Sirius. "You always said it was painful to be
removed from the family. That it burned. But I don't feel a single fucking thing."

Walburga barely flinched at the Muggle language. "Further proof that you were never a
Black," she scoffed. "Now get out of my sight, or your father will call the Aurors to remove
you from the property."

"Gladly," snarled Sirius, and he stomped furiously down the steps. At the front gate, he
turned, taking in number twelve for the last time, that dour house that had done its best to
suffocate him. He hated it all, from the serpentine door knocker to the grimy walls. His
mother watched him from the doorway; she lifted her chin imperiously, a satisfied smile on
her face. She'd won, and she knew it.

Something in an upper window caught Sirius' eye, and he spotted Regulus, watching him
from the second floor.

"REG!" bellowed Sirius, and Regulus vanished from the window, though Sirius knew he was
still there, listening. "HAPPY NOW, ARE YOU?" He picked up a stone from the garden and
hurled it at the window; there was a satisfying smash as the rock shattered the glass.

"You'll be a proper Death Eater, mark my words," continued Sirius conversationally, as

though his brother were right next to him instead of cowering under a windowsill several
storeys up. "Never dared to dream of a different path, did you? And now you haven't got
another. Here's hoping you get murdered."

And he turned on his heel and strode away from the Dark and dreadful house that he used to
call home.

He'd gotten as far as the park across the street when he stopped abruptly. Somebody was
sitting in one of the swings, twisting back and forth. She had deep brown skin and fluffy hair,
and there was no cloud of smoke to obscure her face this time —

"Family quarrel?" asked Dorcas Meadowes with a knowing look.

"How did you —"

"A little birdie told me," said Dorcas. She gestured to the swing beside her, and he sat.
 After a moment, she spoke. "You're free now. How does it feel?"

"I dunno," said Sirius. "It feels the same, honestly. I'm finding it hard to believe."

"Let's not talk about them anymore," said Dorcas. "They aren't worth your time, never have
been. And besides — we've better things to do."

He looked at her sideways. "Such as?"

She pulled out a carton of cigarettes and opened the top. One cigarette in particular stuck out
from the rest. She tilted the carton towards him.

"Those are your Portkeys," said Sirius. "Where are we going?"

Dorcas grinned, flashing the gap between her front teeth at him. "You'll find out."

"Well, it can't be worse than here," said Sirius, and he pulled out the cigarette that was taller
than the rest.

"Nowhere's worse than here," said Dorcas, pinching the other end of the cigarette between
her fingers. "Things are going to get better for you, Sirius. This is only the start. Now let's go
— Uncle Alphard's got work for you to do."

Chapter End Notes

That's it, that's the end of year 6! If you've enjoyed the story, I'd love to hear what's been
your favorite part so far :) A special, massive thanks to those who regularly read and
comment - hearing from you always makes my day! You are all the real heroes of this
fic.
 Lily's Request
Chapter Notes

Welcome to year 7! Buckle up, cause it's gonna be a wild ride :)

There are a few warnings for this year: the canonical death of a family member (not a
parent, but I won't say more!), death of a minor character (happens off-screen), and
there's a scene with racism in chapter 48.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

It was a perfect summer's day in Cokeworth, and the town's main street was humming with
activity. Idle conversation filled the air, punctured by the occasional honk of a car horn as a
football whizzed past, courtesy of the schoolchildren running about the street. Less idle were
the housewives who wore sensible dresses and harried expressions as they flitted from the
grocer's to the chemist's, pausing only to exchange brief pleasantries with one another.

One young woman, in particular, marched from shop to shop with a determined expression
and a shopping list clenched in her fist. At first glance, she appeared to be a perfectly
ordinary seventeen-year-old girl: her dark red hair was cut in a fashionable layered shag, and
her yellow dress clung flatteringly to her waist. If any passersby were to glimpse her
shopping list, however, they would have been surprised to see words like 'owl' and 'dress
robes' written beneath more ordinary items such as 'ham' and 'washing-up liquid'.

Lily Evans had already acquired ham from the butcher's, and washing-up liquid from the
recently-opened Tesco, but the last two items on her list — which were the most important of
all — had eluded her. No shop sold dress robes in the sleepy, stubbornly Muggle town of
Cokeworth. The odds of finding an owl were even worse, let alone one that had been trained
to deliver magical correspondence. A desperate bit of foolish hope had led her to the post
office, where she'd asked the red-faced, slightly sweaty clerk if they had an owl she could use
( "An owl?!" the clerk had bellowed, growing redder and sweatier by the second. "Have you
lost your ruddy mind?").

Maybe I have lost my mind, Lily thought as she entered Cokeworth's least depressing pub for
lunch. A part of her still couldn't believe that she was trying so hard to find an owl, especially
considering the person she was trying to send a letter to.

She took a seat at her favourite spot, a rickety wooden table by the window, then put away
her shopping list and drew another scrap of paper out of her pocket. This bit of paper was
textured and slightly yellow; it had been torn from the sort of parchment that wizards wrote
on.
Write to me at Hartwood Cottage, read the scrap of parchment. That's our summer home —
the owl will know where to go. It was signed 'J. P.'

Lily had written to him. Well, she'd started several letters, all of which had ended up in the
bin after only a few sentences. Her first attempts had been altogether too stuffy, as if she was
writing to a distant cousin instead of a friend who had saved her life the previous school year.
She'd loosened up with subsequent letters, but those hadn't been any better, either; she'd
ended up sounding too casual — 'James, what's new?' — and utterly unlike herself.

As Lily ate her lunch, she began to consider that at this rate, finding an owl was the least of
her problems. She had no use for an owl if she didn't even have a letter to send. At last, she
pulled a diary out of her bag and began to write, trying not to overthink things.

James,

How are you? Having a good summer? I've no idea what you wizarding types do during the
holidays, but I imagine it involves keeping your Quidditch skills sharp and taking Portkeys to
exotic destinations abroad (tell me the last bit isn't true, or I might die of jealousy).

Here is what Muggles do in the summer: they judge the state of their neighbours' front
gardens. That's the favourite pastime of my sister, Petunia, at least. Her other favourite
pastime is talking incessantly about the boyfriend she acquired while I was at Hogwarts (can
you tell she's driving me mad?).

I'm not sure if the boyfriend is as interested in the affairs of our neighbours as Tuney is, but I
suppose I'll find out. Mum's invited him round for dinner, so I'll be meeting him tonight.

Speaking of boyfriends —

Lily paused, her pen hovering over the paper. Her mouth was suddenly dry; she took a sip of
water before continuing.

Speaking of boyfriends, have you thought any more about what we talked about at the end of
last term? About pretending to date? I'm still game if you are, but we'll need a good cover
story. Nobody is going to believe we're together if we don't get our facts straight.

I was thinking that we could tell people we ran into each other in Diagon Alley, went
shopping, and shared ice cream at Fortescue's. One thing led to another, and we've been
meeting weekly in London since. What do you think?

Lily picked up the diary and reread what she had written. This letter was her best yet: it
sounded friendly yet casual, as though she hadn't given much thought at all to the subject.
James didn't need to know about the hours she'd spent composing letters in her head while
lying in bed, only to forget their contents upon waking the next morning.

I actually will be in London next Monday, she wrote. If you're free, we really could meet in
Diagon Alley. That would give us a rock-solid alibi. And you could help me shop — I need to
buy some dress robes before my disciplinary hearing.
She frowned. Did James know about her trial? She scratched out the last sentence, thinking it
best to explain a bit.

I'm not sure if you've heard, but I got in a bit of trouble last year for Apparating without a
license. I'm due in front of the Wizengamot next Tuesday. (By the way, what does one wear to
their hearing before the Wizengamot? I'm assuming it's dress robes, but please tell me if I'm
wrong!)

If I'm expelled or have my wand snapped, don't worry — we can call off the whole pretend-
dating scenario in that case, as I'll no longer be a Hogwarts student. Ha-ha.

Lily cringed. That wasn't as funny as she thought it would be.

Anyway, I'll send this letter as soon as I can find an owl. They're hard to come by in
Cokeworth, and I don't fancy asking the Snapes to borrow theirs. Can you imagine?!

Write me back!

Yours truly,

Lily Evans

Her stomach full and her shopping more-or-less complete, Lily strolled home. She turned
down the street and a familiar heaviness dampened the air around her, caused not by a change
in air pressure but by magic. Earlier that summer, a pair of Ministry employees had set up
enough protective enchantments around her house that she doubted even Lord Voldemort
could have found her if he'd wanted to. She felt a rush of gratitude towards Caradoc
Dearborn, who had sponsored the Muggle-Born Protection Act which now kept her family
safe.

The garden gate swung open of its own accord as she approached, another tell-tale sign of the
magic that now enveloped her house like a thick, warm blanket.

"I've got the ham!" she called, depositing a bag full of groceries on the kitchen table.

"Wonderful," said her mother, who was stirring a pot of boiled carrots on the hob. "Perfect
timing, too, if we chuck it in the oven now it'll be ready just before Vernon arrives…"

"Where's Tuney?" asked Lily, though she already knew the answer. "Shouldn't she be
helping?"

"She's getting ready upstairs," replied her mother placidly.

"Why? Surely her boyfriend already knows what she looks like without makeup, she's stayed
over at his flat plenty of times…"

"Lily," admonished her mother. She gestured towards the ham. "Be a good girl and get the
ham ready, would you? Vernon is important to Petunia, so I expect you to behave tonight. No
bickering over dinner."
"But she —"

"You heard your mother."

"But I —"

"No. Bickering."

Two hours later, Lily took a bite of roast ham, her expression sour. Sitting across the table
was Petunia, whose eyelids were covered in a bright blue shadow that looked ghastly against
her skin, and beside Petunia was Vernon, the boyfriend. He took up nearly an entire side of
the table by himself and had been taking up most of the conversation, too.

"…And that's when Robert said to me — Robert, the junior manager, you know — that he'd
never seen anybody with such an aptitude for selling drills before," said Vernon proudly
between mouthfuls of ham. "He even said — and this is a direct quote — 'Keep it up, Vernon,
and you'll be assistant to the junior manager before the year is through.'"

Petunia squeezed his hand, looking thrilled. "Assistant to the junior manager!" she said,
looking around the table. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"That's great, dear," said her mum, though her smile looked slightly strained.

"Yeah," said Lily, who was certain her head would explode if she had to listen to another
word about drills. "Really great."

"What'll you be doing after this year, Lily?" asked Vernon. Before she could answer, he
continued. "If you're looking for a job, I could put in a good word for you. The secretary in
Bernard's department is retiring… You'd look good enough behind a desk, and Bernard's been
whinging about the lack of eye candy in the office." He chuckled at his own joke.

Lily shot a sharp glance towards Petunia, who had never tolerated sexism, but to her surprise
Petunia was laughing a light and airy laugh. A bit of excess blue eyeshadow had fallen onto
the skin underneath her eyes.

Well. That was fine. Lily could stand up for herself. Furious, she opened her mouth, but her
mum gave her a stern look and she relented. "Thanks for the offer," she managed, and she
proceeded to stuff her mouth full of ham so that she wouldn't be tempted to say anything else.

As soon as Vernon had gone, taking Petunia with him, Lily turned to her mother. "I hate him.
He's awful."

Her mum looked thoughtful as she washed the dishes. "I'm reserving judgement. He may
have just been nervous."

"He was the most self-absorbed — the most sexist…" Lily groped for words. "He thought I'd
make a good secretary!"

"He cares a lot about Petunia. And he's got a good job."
"That's another thing," fumed Lily. "Did you see the way she acted around him? She was
all… small, and agreeable! Since when does Petunia make herself smaller for anybody?"

"I noticed." Her mother's forehead creased.

"She's not behaving like herself. She's trying to be the perfect housewife because that's what
she thinks he wants."

"It's possible," said her mother placidly, passing Lily a plate to dry. "But that's something
she'll have to figure out for herself."

"Why? If you just talk some sense into her…"

Her mother shook her head. "With matters of the heart, experience is the best teacher, I'm
afraid. You'll find out for yourself, eventually," she added with a wink.

"I am never going to make a fool of myself over a boy."

"Just you wait. One day you'll bring home someone you're giddy over, and I'll remind you of
this moment, and you'll say, 'you were right all along, Mum, you always are…'"

Lily pretended to vomit.

His first conscious emotion was relief.

It's over.

His second was dread.

Twenty-nine days until it happens again.

Remus Lupin opened his eyes. He was sprawled on the basement floor; his head nearly
touched the cast iron bars that separated his corner of the basement from the rest of it. His
cheek pressed uncomfortably against the cold stone floor, as though he'd been lying like that
for quite some time. His body ached.

He closed his eyes, hoping to capture at least five more minutes of sleep. But his knee was
throbbing rather badly, which was distracting, and after a moment he pushed himself gingerly
upright, abandoning the idea of sleep altogether.

On the other side of the iron bars was a tray laden with fluffy eggs and a generous portion of
bacon. His father must have left it there before going to work. Remus went straight for the
bacon, though self-loathing prevented him from enjoying it fully: his irresistible craving for
meat was a side-effect of the wolf being deprived the night before.
Once his stomach was full, he reached outside the cage for his wand, which lay out of the
wolf's reach and barely within his own. Wolves couldn't do magic, as far as he knew, but they
could put a wand between their slavering jaws and snap it like a bone.

He rose unsteadily, grabbing onto the iron bars for support, and unlocked the cage with his
wand. He didn't bring the tray upstairs with him. He should have done — and if he was a
better son, he would have done — but he knew his father would retrieve it without complaint
after returning home.

Merlin forgive me, thought Remus, wondering if there was a special place in hell for sons
who made more work for their overburdened fathers. Forgive me, but I'm tired.

There was a letter waiting for him upstairs. More concerning was the fact that it had been
shoved through the letterbox by the Muggle mailman. Remus couldn't remember the last time
they'd gotten Muggle post.

It was from Lily. Remus, I hope this finds you well, he read. I know it's a bit sudden, writing
to you like this, but I didn't know who else to ask. I need to send a letter to James, but I
haven't got an owl. Neither has anyone in my town, it turns out.

I was wondering if you'd do me a favour and send this to him for me? And don't read it,
please. Not that it's anything personal, just, you know. I hope I'm not asking too much, but —
if anyone values their privacy it's you, isn't it?

Remus peered into the envelope. There was a neatly-folded piece of Muggle paper inside,
addressed to one James Potter.

Before he tied Lily's letter to Ceres, the family owl, he penned a letter of his own.

Sirius,

You'll never believe what's happened. Just got a bit of correspondence from Lily Evans,
asking me to send a private letter (!) to Prongs (!).

I'm assuming you're still at the Potters', so you'll likely get this letter when Prongs gets his.
Read over his shoulder for me, will you? I'm dying to know why Evans is writing to James
(romance, perhaps? Blossoming feelings?).

In other news, the full moon last night was uneventful. I'm planning to sleep for twelve hours
and then do a light round of bathing, perhaps followed by more sleep. We'll see.

Your furry little problem,

Remus

Sirius' reply came a few days later.

Moony,
Nice thinking, but I'm not actually at the Potters'. You must have been knackered when you
wrote to me because, earth to Lupin, you should have peeked at the letter when you had it in
your furry mitts. We'll never know what it says now! Opportunity missed! Worse than missed,
opportunity squandered!

You get a bit dunderheaded after the full moon, you know. I won't tease you too much, though
— you've suffered enough without my rubbing your face in it.

Anyway, I'm staying at my Uncle Alphard's place right now, he's got a flat in London.
Nothing fancy, but it is about as far as you can get from Grimmauld Place, thank the Lord.
Well, as far as you can get while staying in central London. So not all that far from Number
Twelve, actually.

You should visit soon! We could terrorise the Muggle tourists at Westminster and set fire to
the funny hats that the guards at the palace wear (I kid, I kid — I've already done the last
bit). At the very least, you have to teach me how to use Alphard's electric kettle, because I am
utterly at a loss. I need you, Moony!

I am,

Without a doubt,

Your favourite Marauder

(Sirius, of course. If you thought it was Peter, even for an instant…)

Remus had written his reply by that afternoon, but he waited a couple of days to actually send
it, in the hopes that Sirius would think that he was having an exciting and jam-packed
summer holiday.

Dear Pete — I mean, Sirius —

About the letter slipping through my furry mitts: that was not my finest moment, I'll admit. I
must ask you not to mention the incident to Wormtail — he'd never stop taking the mickey if
he knew how stupid I'd been.

Terrorising Muggle tourists and setting fire to bearskin hats does sound like fun. Have you
got a date in mind? Just let me know. I'm free for the next twenty-three days or so (but who's
counting?).

Write soon.

Remus

He received a letter the following day, which was surprising: he hadn't expected Sirius to
respond until the following week, at the earliest. But the handwriting on the envelope was
sloppier than Sirius' slanted penmanship, and the return address was Hartwood Cottage, not
London.

Moony,
Red alert! We've got a situation. Lily Evans has a disciplinary hearing tomorrow — in front
of the full Wizengamot! I'm calling an emergency meeting of the Marauders, so I need you to
come to London A.S.A.P. (As Soon As Padfoot picks you up). Lily needs our support!

Sirius should be on his way, so you'd better pack your things.

See you soon!

-James

"For crying out —" grumbled Remus, but the words died in his throat as another owl soared
through the window and deposited a tiny scrap of parchment in his hand. The note was barely
legible; it looked as though it had been written by someone aboard the Knight Bus who also
happened to have a bad tremor.

R,

Got your things packed? I'm flying over Bristol at the moment, should arrive at yours within
the hour. Look for the flying motorbike.

-Pads

Remus heard the motorbike before he saw it. There was a rumble like distant thunder which
grew louder and louder until it rattled Remus' weary bones. He peered out the window; a
motorbike hurtled towards the Lupin residence like a comet, exhaust billowing behind it.
With a deafening roar, the motorbike smashed into the forsythia in the front garden, which
tore the poor bush in two, and then skidded to a grinding halt. Atop the bike was a lanky,
handsome boy of about seventeen, wearing a fitted suit of black leather — Remus was no
expert, but it looked like professional Muggle racing gear — and no helmet.

"Oops," said Sirius with a glance at the ruined shrub. He pushed his shaggy, windswept hair
out of his face and turned to Remus, his expression radiant. "Moony! Are you happy to see
me?"

Yes. Slightly too much, in fact. "Oh, I'm thrilled."

"Knew you would be," said Sirius proudly. He vaulted off the seat and the motorbike
wheezed a little: smoke trailed from the gaps in its chrome exterior. "Can't resist the pull of
adventure, can you, Moony?"

"That's me all over," said Remus, eyeing the motorbike with trepidation. "Incidentally, you
did bring me a helmet, didn't you?"

"Must have left it at home," said Sirius carelessly. "You don't need one, anyway, your skull is
thick enough as is."

"Charming. You always know just what to say to make a bloke feel good about himself."

Sirius grinned. "Stop pouting, Remus. I know you're ecstatic to see me. Give me a smile, a
widdle smile for your best mate…"
Remus bared his teeth in an exaggerated grimace, and Sirius barked a laugh.

"That's my Moony!" He swung an arm around Remus' shoulder, giving him a brusque hug.
"Got everything you need, then? Ready for Elvendork to take us to London?"

Remus wanted to ask why Apparating wasn't an option, but he already knew the answer:
Sirius never missed an opportunity to travel absurd distances on that damn motorbike.
Reluctantly, he clambered behind Sirius on the seat as Sirius fiddled with the various knobs
and gears. The bike had obviously been magically enlarged, but it still seemed barely big
enough for both of them. Remus' legs dangled uncomfortably in the air, and though he sat as
far back as he possibly could, his chest was practically flush with Sirius' back.

Godric's teeth, he thought, trying to keep his mind from wandering to places it shouldn't go.
There were no seat belts — not that he'd expected there to be — and nothing to grip to keep
himself in the seat.

The realisation that hit him was more dizzying than the exhaust that filled his nostrils. He
would have to put his arms around Sirius for an extended period of time, or else be thrown
off the motorbike.

This was terrible. It was also better than anything he had dreamed, but it was blatantly unsafe
and a stupid thing to risk when they could literally just Apparate, and he was going to have to
hold Sirius around the middle. Terrible.

"Out of curiosity," said Remus, more to distract himself than anything, "how many riders
does Elvendork usually have?"

Sirius patted the handlebars of the motorbike affectionately. "Just me, normally. No worries,
though, odds are four to one that you'll be fine…"

"Fantastic," said Remus, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the engine. The
motorbike bucked, rising onto its back tyre; panicked, Remus flung his arms around Sirius'
waist.

"That's it," called Sirius. "You've got to hold on tight." He dropped an arm from the
handlebars and covered Remus' hands with a broad palm, pressing Remus' hands firmly
against his stomach. Beneath the sleek black racing gear, Sirius' abdominal muscles were
tense, and his stomach rose and fell with every breath. Sirius' breaths were maddeningly
even, slow and deep and purposeful.

Remus, on the other hand, was on the verge of hyperventilating. This was a lot to take in,
especially for someone who had spent the last month mostly reading in bed. At least if he
died on this motorbike, he'd die with his arms around Sirius' waist. Small mercies.

His train of thought was interrupted when a gust of wind hit his face, sweeping his sandy hair
back. Before he could register what was happening, the motorbike blasted into the air. It
cleared the rooftop of the Lupin house in one enormous leap and continued upward,
accelerating into the sun — it veered sharply to the right at an angle no broomstick was
capable of, roaring over the old, rolling mountains beneath them, heading eastward —
A strong gale of wind made the bike pitch like a ship in a storm. Remus' breakfast rose in his
throat, and he clenched his hands more tightly around Sirius' abdomen.

The wind carried Sirius' laugh directly into Remus' ear. "Enjoying yourself yet, Moony? Next
stop, London!"

James Potter leaned against the display window of Madam Malkin's Robes, humming to
himself. He was supposed to meet Lily at half past two, but he had arrived slightly early and
was passing the time by composing a theme song for the Marauders.

Half an hour and three verses later, he checked his watch. It was barely noon.

That was fine; it meant more time to work on the theme song. After another hour of
whistling, however, his cheeks were sore and he was starting to mix up the twenty-one verses
he'd composed so far. Deciding that his creative juices could only be replenished by a bite to
eat, he strode towards the Leaky Cauldron.

He'd only gone a few feet when he was stopped by a familiar voice.

"James?"

Lily was standing just past Madam Malkin’s, dressed in Muggle summer clothes that
revealed her arms and most of her legs. Her skin was a few shades less pale than when he'd
last seen her, and her hair was pulled away from her face in a ponytail that looked clean and
pretty.

James' hands immediately went to his own hair, which was matted with sweat from the
summer heat. "Alright, Evans?"

She smiled. Somehow she wasn't sweating at all. "You're early."

"So're you," he countered.

"I'm not, actually," she said, and she showed him a bag she was carrying, which was full of
books. "I've been shopping since this morning."

James pulled a book from the bag and examined its spine. "Landmarks in Wizarding Law," he
read, and his eyes widened. "You're preparing for your hearing tomorrow?"

"That's the idea." Lily bit her lip. "How much do you know about wizarding law?"

"Not a thing," said James cheerily, putting the book back in the bag. "But I can help you
prepare! I was just about to have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. You should come too and we
can, erm, eat and read together. Or something," he added hastily, because Lily was looking at
him like he had three heads. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She sounded amazed. "You really want to help me?"

"Sure. What're pretend boyfriends for, anyway?"

That must have been the wrong thing to say; her brow furrowed, and she didn't speak again
until they were seated at a corner table in the Leaky Cauldron. "You don't have to help me if
you don't want to."

James, who had been humming verses from his theme song, blinked in surprise. "Who said I
didn't want to?"

"Nobody," she said, "but if you're only offering because of our plan to fool Severus…"

"That's not it. I'm happy to help. Besides, you can't read all those books by yourself in a day."

"What was that pretend boyfriend comment about, then?"

"That was a joke," said James.

"It didn't sound like a joke. It sounded passive-aggressive."

James had no idea what that meant. "Erm, sorry. What?"

Lily stared at him. "Oh, my God. You're serious."

"No, I'm James," he said with a grin. "What's 'passive-aggressive'?"

"Never mind." Her cheeks were pink. She opened one of the books on wizarding law and set
it in front of her face. "I'm feeling a little sensitive, that's all."

"Should I not joke about being your pretend boyfriend?"

"No, that's — that's fine."

"Then what's the problem?"

She turned a few pages in the book, though he was certain she couldn't have read them so
quickly. "I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to do. I don't want you to feel
obligated to help me just because we're going to pretend to date."

James felt like she was speaking a different language. "I don't feel obligated. I wouldn't offer
to help if I didn't want to do it."

She peeked at him from above the book. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course," he said. "What kind of person would go out of their way to do things they
didn't actually want to do? They'd make themselves miserable, and that's stupid."

Lily laid the book flat on the table. Her cheeks were still flushed. "Have you always been this
straightforward?"
Was that a compliment? "Erm. I think so?"

Lily shook her head. "Remind me to take what you say at face value from now on."

She returned to her book, and this time seemed to actually absorb what was written there.
James still wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about, but Lily looked happier than she
had before, so he considered that a win.

An hour later, their stomachs were full, and James' head was spinning as he fought to focus
on the book he was reading. He was used to dense writing — most of the textbooks at
Hogwarts were written hundreds of years ago, after all — but these legal tomes were a
different beast entirely. Each page was loaded with terminology he'd never heard before.

"I need to take a break," he announced, closing the book. "Want to go to Madam Malkin's
like we'd planned?"

"Oh, yes, thank God," said Lily immediately. She tossed both books into her bag. "I've
needed a break for ages but didn't want to say anything. You looked so engrossed in what you
were reading…"

James laughed. "'Engrossed'? I was trying not to fall asleep!"

"You're kidding." Lily's eyes sparkled with delight. "You looked so diligent! You were
holding your head with both hands and frowning…"

"What, like this?" James pulled a face, and she swatted his arm, laughing.

After they had passed through the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron and stepped into
Diagon Alley, Lily said hesitantly, "Did you find anything useful in the book you were
reading? The Law as Applied to Muggle-borns, wasn't it? I thought that one looked
promising."

"Er, it wasn't, really," said James. He'd been halfway through a chapter entitled 'Notable
Cases of the 20th Century', which was full of bleak anecdotes in which Muggle-borns were
sentenced to life in Azkaban. "It was pretty depressing, to be honest."

Worry lines formed above Lily's delicate brows. "What are the odds I have my wand
snapped, d'you think?"

"Zero."

"Don't bullshit me, James."

"I'm not bullshitting you." He took her arm as they crossed the threshold of Madam Malkin's.
"You're the brightest witch of our year. Those stuffy old warlocks on the Wizengamot won't
dare snap your wand." He gestured expansively at the racks of brightly coloured robes inside
the shop. "What kind of dress robes are you looking for?"

Lily wasn't so easily pacified. "What if they do, though?"

"They won't."

"But what if?"

James had never seen Lily Evans act so worried before. She sounded like Peter before a
Defence exam. He was never any good at comforting Peter, but maybe things with Lily
would be different. "Alright," he said. "Let's say they snap your wand. Then what?"

Lily blinked. "Sorry?"

"What will you do about it? Will you say, 'oh well, it was nice being a witch but I haven't got
a wand anymore, so back to the Muggle world I go'? Will you drop out of Hogwarts, get a job
as a telly-phone operator? Marry a Muggle man and have six non-magical kids with him?"

"Are you mad? Of course not!"

"I didn't think so," said James. He reached for a set of spangled purple robes and rubbed the
silky fabric between his fingers. "What would you do, then?"

"I… I don't know. I'd try to get another wand somewhere and find a way to continue learning
magic outside of Hogwarts. I suppose I'd have to do it in secret, or in another country, but…"

"You see?" said James triumphantly. "Even if they snap your wand, you'll figure out a way to
carry on. Your life won't be over, and you won't fall to pieces. So there's nothing to worry
about."

"If you say so…"

"Besides, you won't have to go it alone. You've got friends who can help. I bet we could
make you a new wand."

"We?"

"The Marauders," he said simply.

Lily stared at him for a minute, not comprehending. Then she said, "Oh, my God. Is that the
name you've given your little gang, or…?"

It was James' turn to feel defensive. "It's an excellent name!"

"Is it?" The corners of her lips twitched.

Determined to change the subject, James thrust a set of garish yellow robes at her. "You
haven't tried anything on yet. What do you think of this one?"

Lily made a face. "Those are horrible."

James grabbed three more sets of robes at random and held them out to her. "What about
these?"
"Oh, I don't know," she said, looking them over. "This one's too casual, I think, and that one
won't fit me at all. What style does one normally wear before the Wizengamot, anyway?"

James dropped the offending robes on the floor. "No idea."

She rounded on him. "No idea? James Fleamont Potter, you are no help at all!"

"Well, it's not like I've ever been on trial before!"

"Yes, but you're a wizard," she said in the same tone one might use to speak to a child. "You
must have some idea about what would be appropriate to wear."

"Er, sorry. I don't know the first thing about witches' robes. Sirius might, though."

"Bully for Sirius."

Her jaw was set. This was not at all how James had imagined their shopping trip going;
feeling slightly frantic, he grabbed her hands. "Forget about the robes. Let's get out of here."

"But I need —"

"You need nice clothes for your hearing, but nobody said you had to wear robes. Let's see
what they've got in Muggle London, how does that sound?"

She followed him out of Madam Malkin’s, blinking dazedly as they stepped into the sunlit
street. "Are you certain that's a good idea? It'll hardly endear me to the Wizengamot if I show
up in Muggle clothes…"

"Yeah, they'll probably say you're refusing to assimilate or something," said James. "But who
cares? The deck is stacked against you anyway. Even if you do show up in robes, it's not as if
they'll forget you're Muggle-born. You might as well rub their face in it."

She looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite place. "You think I should be
purposefully inflammatory? To the people who will be determining my fate in wizarding
Britain?"

"It was just a thought," he said quickly. "When you put it like that —"

Lily smiled. "It's brilliant. I love it."

"Er. You do?"

Her green eyes danced with mischief. "I'm not ashamed to be Muggle-born. And you're right
— they won't forget about my blood status either way. So I may as well show them that I'm
proud of who I am and what I come from."

"That's the spirit." James felt suddenly lightheaded. She liked his plan! He didn't know
whether to sigh with relief or dance a jig. "Only I'm not very familiar with Muggle London…
have you got any favourite shops we could visit?"
"I have, in fact," said Lily, and she took him by the arm. She turned on her heel, pulling him
along, and they vanished in a swirl of colour and rushing wind.
 The Unlikely Pair

Uncle Alphard's flat was situated above a Muggle launderette, within walking distance of the
Ministry. There was not even a speck of wear on the furniture inside the flat, and the air
smelled strangely sterile, as though its normal occupant did not spend much time there.

"Is your uncle —" began Remus, but Sirius wasn't listening; he had unzipped his Muggle
racing suit and tossed it carelessly on the floor, even though there was a coat stand right
there.

Remus decided to point this out. "There's a —"

"We're back!" yelled Sirius. His shoulder bumped the coat stand as he sprinted into the living
room, and it would have tipped over if Remus hadn't been there to steady it.

Typical, thought Remus. He tried to summon a bit of annoyance, but he found that he couldn't
be cross with the whirlwind that was Sirius Black. Not after he'd spent the past month
missing him, at any rate.

"Padfoot!" called an elated voice that could only have been Peter. "Did you bring Moony…?"

"I'm right here." Remus trailed Sirius into the living room. "And you've got to be more
careful, Sirius."

Sirius was wrestling with Peter on the fluffy crimson rug, which looked suspiciously like
Manticore fur. "Why?"

"You nearly broke the coat stand. It's a lucky thing I caught it —"

"Ah, but you did catch it," said Sirius.

"Yes, but next time I won't. You've got to learn to clean up your own messes."

"Alright, Prefect Lupin," said Sirius in a tone that made it clear Remus was being a bore.
Remus responded by drawing his wand and casting a Jelly-legs Jinx on Sirius, which gave
Peter the upper hand in the wrestling match.

"Not fair, Moony!" yelped Sirius as Peter held his arms behind his back.

Remus took a seat on the sofa and asked the question he'd been wondering since they had
arrived at the flat. "Is your uncle here?"

"I — get off, Pete — I don't think so." Despite his useless legs, Sirius somehow managed to
flip Peter onto his back and pin him down like a beetle. "He doesn't come round, much."

"Is he off doing work for his vigilante group?" asked Peter, who didn't seem bothered in the
least at being held down by Sirius.
I wouldn't be, either, thought Remus, but he shoved the damning thought away before it
could distract him.

"They're not a vigilante group," retorted Sirius. "Dumbledore organised them."

"That doesn't mean anything," said Remus. "They're still operating outside of the Ministry's
orders, aren't they?"

Peter squealed as Sirius began to tickle him. "Stoppit! Moony, make 'im stop!"

"Stop it, Padfoot."

"Or else you'll what?" Sirius stopped tickling Peter long enough to give Remus a beatific
smile.

Damn you, thought Remus. "Or else I'll get involved." He arched his eyebrows in a way he
hoped was threatening.

"Yes, please do," said Sirius, and he grabbed Remus by the wrist and tugged. Remus could
have stopped him, but he let himself be pulled off the couch and fell atop both Sirius and
Peter.

"Ha!" cried Peter triumphantly. He rolled out from underneath them and jumped on Sirius'
back. "It's two on one, now — get 'im, Moony!"

The logs in the hearth suddenly burst into emerald flames. A scattering of green sparks
caught the hem of Remus' trousers as he scrambled away from the fireplace, and he stamped
the embers out on the Manticore rug.

"Who —" began Peter, but in the next moment his question was answered. A short, sturdy-
looking girl with close-cropped blonde hair stepped out of the fireplace.

"Hello, lads," said Marlene McKinnon, eyeing them curiously. "What're you doing on the
floor? Shagging?"

"Why, did you want to join?" asked Sirius.

"Ha," said Marlene in a deadpan voice. "Well, you might want to get out of the way, because
—"

The green flames in the hearth flared, and another girl strode out of the fire. She had dark
skin and was taller than Marlene; her elegant navy robes accentuated her lithe figure as she
stepped into the room. She caught sight of Sirius, who was sprawled on the floor, and smiled.

"Long time no see, pretty boy."

"Dorcas," responded Sirius, hastily sitting up.

Remus was not, generally, a jealous person. He'd never begrudged Sirius and James their
closeness, and he'd never been envious of the girls Sirius had taken to Hogsmeade during
their third and fourth years, back when girls still found his capriciousness attractive.

Now, however… there was something in the way that Sirius was looking at Dorcas that made
Remus' ribcage tighten.

"Are you going to introduce me?" Dorcas asked Sirius, tilting her chin towards Remus and
Peter. "Or were you just planning on staring?"

"Sorry," said Sirius at once, which alarmed Remus more than anything else so far. "Didn't
mean to stare. You just look so… you look like…"

"Like a witch?" said Marlene slyly.

"Yeah." Sirius tore his eyes from Dorcas long enough to wave a hand at Remus and Peter.
"These wankers are Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Wankers, meet Dorcas Meadowes."

"Dorcas?" Peter's eyes widened. "The Dorcas? That Muggle girl you wouldn't shut up about
last year?"

"Had a lot to say about me, did you?" Dorcas settled onto the sofa, tucking her legs
underneath her.

"No!" Sirius glared at Peter. "He exaggerates. Everybody knows I'm the strong and silent
type. Brooding, like."

Godric's teeth, thought Remus. Sirius actually looked embarrassed.

Peter was looking eagerly at Dorcas. "Sirius said you and Uncle Alphard are — you know.
Are you?"

"Am I what?" said Dorcas, amused.

"You want me to say it?" asked Peter incredulously, and he dropped his voice, as though
someone might be listening in on them. "Are you really a member of the…?"

Just then, the door of the flat flew open, and James and Lily stumbled inside, sopping wet and
laughing loudly. James tripped over the coat stand and nearly fell, but Lily caught him by the
sleeve and hauled him upright as the coat stand clattered to the floor.

"Oh, hullo everyone," said James cheerily, waving at the group in the living room. "Sorry
we're a bit late — Lily is truly shit at Apparition, we ended up in Leeds by accident."

"That was your fault," said Lily defensively. "You were the one who jinxed me —"

"Jinxed you? I would never —"

"It's a figure of speech. You said 'wouldn't it be funny if we went to Leeds' just as I was
turning on my heel, so of course that's what I was thinking of when we Apparated —"

As they continued to bicker, Remus nudged Sirius. "They look chummy, don't they?"
"Yeah," said Sirius, who was staring at James and Lily with his mouth slightly open. The
expression would have looked stupid on anyone but Sirius, which was a testament to how
insufferably good-looking he was. Remus found this patently unfair.

Lily was still lecturing James as they entered the living room. "It's like when someone tells
you not to think about a white elephant. It's all you can think about after."

"Speak for yourself. I'm doing an excellent job of not thinking about a white elephant. Or
Leeds."

"James Fleamont Potter, you are being stubborn on purpose —"

"A-hem."

Marlene cleared her throat loudly. Lily broke off, seeming suddenly aware that she and James
were not the only people in the room.

"Er," said Lily. A flush crept up her neck. "Hi, everyone."

Marlene eyed Lily's waterlogged clothes. "It's raining?"

"It is in Leeds," said James with a smirk. He joined them on the floor, squeezing in between
Sirius and Remus. "Alright, Padfoot?" He flung an arm around Sirius' shoulders and
embraced him enthusiastically, as though they hadn't seen each other in years.

"Fantastic," replied Sirius, leaning into James' embrace. "Where have you two been?"

"Leeds, apparently," remarked Peter.

"For about thirty seconds!" said Lily. "We were on Oxford Street before that."

Dorcas straightened, suddenly interested. "What were you doing there?"

"Oh, shopping," said Lily, who had apparently mistaken Dorcas' navy robes to mean she was
a witch. "There are quite a few popular Muggle clothing shops there."

"Did you go to Selfridges?"

"Yeah, we did." Lily looked quizzically at Dorcas. "Have you ever been?"

"Only about a hundred times," said Dorcas. She grinned at Lily's perplexed expression and
extended a hand. "Dorcas Meadowes. I'm a Muggle; these robes are just for show."

Lily's mouth fell open. "You're a… but how…?" She looked at the rest of the group,
searching for confirmation.

"It's true," said Marlene. "Try to keep up, Lils. Now, what's this about you and James going
shopping together? For clothes? There's got to be more to that story."
Lily and James exchanged a glance. "As a matter of fact…" began Lily, but she trailed off,
flushing.

"Er," said James. He pushed a wet strand of hair out of his face. "Yeah. We're, erm, dating."

"I knew it," said Peter.

"So did I," said Marlene triumphantly. "There was something off about the way you two were
acting on the Hogwarts Express. This is why, isn't it?"

Sirius let out a whoop and shoved James. "You've been holding out on us, Prongs!"

"He really hasn't been," said Lily quickly. "It's quite recent, he hasn't kept anything from
you…"

There was something oddly forced about James' smile. As soon as Remus had the thought,
James turned to him, grinning.

"Mad, isn't it, Moony? Who could've predicted that Evans would give me a chance?"

"Everybody," said Remus honestly.

"My crystal ball has shown you two snogging ever since our third year," said Peter.
"Professor Vablatsky says it's the most consistent prediction he's ever seen…"

"We were not that obvious," said Lily.

"Yes, you were," said Marlene. "While we're on the subject, actually… Dorcas and I are
dating, as well."

Remus felt as though someone had grabbed hold of his lungs and squeezed all the air out of
them. Dating. She spoke without shame, as if it didn't matter that she could never take her
words back. As though she had nothing to fear from being seen with another girl.

Perhaps Remus was the jealous sort, after all. At that moment, he was utterly envious of
Marlene.

Breathe, Lupin, he told himself. He resisted the urge to stare at Dorcas, who had taken
Marlene's hand, and instead busied himself by picking lint off his socks.

"Dating!" said James, seeming thrilled that the focus of attention was no longer on him and
Lily. "That's excellent news. Good for you!"

Remus chanced a glance at Sirius and immediately regretted doing so. Sirius looked as if
Marlene had slapped him; he was staring, utterly perplexed, at Dorcas' fingers interlaced with
Marlene's.

"Oh, don't pout, pretty boy," teased Dorcas, once it became clear that Sirius was not about to
join in on the congratulations. "Your face will freeze that way."
"I wasn't pouting," said Sirius. He had a look in his eye that Remus knew well, one that
meant he was feeling defensive and therefore prone to lashing out. "Well. Since we're all
dating each other now, apparently — Remus, d'you want to go to Madam Puddifoot's with me
next Hogsmeade weekend?"

It would have hurt less if Sirius had punched him in the gut. "No," said Remus emphatically,
and James laughed.

"Tough luck, Padfoot! Remus is too good for you, anyway — you've got to aim a little lower.
Maybe if you asked Peter nicely…"

It was nearly midnight by the time the boisterous conversation died to a lull, and James went
to the kitchen to fetch another round of drinks. He refilled Lily's mug with Butterbeer, which
she accepted with a small smile. She'd gotten quieter as the night went on; he suspected she
was having a hard time shaking the thought of her hearing the next morning.

He offered a bottle of Butterbeer to Dorcas, as well, but she shook her head and got to her
feet, yawning. "I should be off. See you tomorrow?"

"If they don't chuck me in Azkaban first," said Lily, staring into her mug of Butterbeer.

"That won't happen and you know it," said Marlene. "All you did was Apparate home, for
God's sake. It's not as if you appeared before a crowd of Muggles in broad daylight. There
weren't witnesses."

Lily's head snapped up. "Hang on. Does the Wizengamot call wit—"

"By the way, Dorcas," said Peter. "Before you go — d'you know any Muggle girls who might
be interested in a dashing young lad like me? I've got many talents —"

"Name two," said Sirius, who was lying next to Remus on the carpet.

Peter was not to be dissuaded. "I got an Outstanding in Divs, which is more than any of you
can say —"

"— because the rest of us figured out that Divination was a massive waste of time in year
three —"

" — and McGonagall says my Transfiguration's really coming along. Says I've got a knack
for animal Transfiguration, if you can believe that…"

"Interesting," said Remus. "Anything that Muggles are permitted to know about?"

"Well," said Peter, "there's my massive —"

"Don't listen to him," Sirius told Dorcas. "He's not allowed to have a girlfriend, his first
obligation is to his mates."

"I'll go with you, Dory," said Marlene. She rose from the couch and bent to kiss Lily on the
cheek. "Sweet dreams, Lils. Try not to worry about tomorrow — we'll see you in the
morning, and we'll be thinking about you the whole time."

Dorcas tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the hearth — James marvelled at how casual the
gesture was, as if it was something she did all the time — and the two girls vanished into the
emerald tongues of fire.

"Should we call it a night as well?" he asked, watching the flames die to embers.

Sirius nodded, rubbing his eyes. He sat up and gently shook Remus, who appeared to have
fallen asleep. "Time for bed, Moony. There's a guest bedroom down the hall, I'll show you…"

Peter stuck out his lip, watching Remus follow Sirius blearily down the hall. "I was going to
sleep in the guest bedroom."

"You and I can share the sofa, how's that?" said James.

Peter mumbled something that sounded like 'Alphard's room'.

"Lily's sleeping in that one," said James.

"I don't mind the sofa," said Lily, though her tone made it clear that she absolutely did mind.

"Nonsense," said James. "You need a good night's sleep before the hearing tomorrow, which
means you get the best bed. That's the rule."

"I like that rule," said Lily.

"I don't," said Peter.

"You'll get over it," said James. "Anyway, I think Alphard's put a few charms on his room."

"It's jinxed?" asked Lily.

"No, I think he's enchanted the place to make it more comfortable. Sirius described it as, erm,
the ultimate sleeping experience. I could show you if you like."

Lily flushed, and James realised that perhaps he shouldn't have invited himself to join her in
the bedroom.

"I only meant —"

"I know," she said, though her cheeks were still pink. "Alright, then. Why don't we, erm, have
a look?"

Peter began to cough uncontrollably; he appeared to have choked on his own saliva.
James ignored him. Instead, he strode down the hall and tried the handle of Alphard Black's
bedroom. The door was unlocked, and as soon as he and Lily crossed the threshold into the
room, the sound of Peter's coughs faded away.

It was like stepping into a wonderful dream: a layer of fluffy clouds drifted lazily across the
floor, and the walls pulsed softly with the lavender light of sunset. A marble fountain in the
corner burbled softly, providing just the right amount of white noise, and in the centre of the
room, the clouds swirled around an elaborate four-poster bed. Soft, white blankets covered
the bed, and the ornate ivory headboard was barely visible above a mountain of pillows.

James had never seen a bed so inviting. And totally off-limits, considering who was sleeping
there tonight.

"Well," he said, with the air of someone giving a tour. "Here we are." He gestured towards the
bedside table, which was also carved from ivory. "If you need water, you just have to think it
and a cup should appear by your bed. If it's too hot or too cold, just say 'warmer' or 'cooler',
and the temperature should adjust accordingly. There's probably a few Sleeping Draughts
tucked away somewhere, as well, in case you'd like a specific dream…"

He trailed off. Lily didn't appear to have heard a word he'd said. Tears were rolling down her
cheeks as she stared blankly at the bed.

"Erm. Are you alright, Lily?"

"Fine," she said with a sniff, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry."

James had never seen Lily cry before. He fought the urge to panic. "Nothing to be sorry for,"
he said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lily hesitated, then nodded miserably. "The hearing tomorrow… everyone's acting like it's
going to be fine. Like I'll get off scot-free. But I won't!"

"You don't think so?"

"No." Her eyes welled with fresh tears. "I'm Muggle-born, James. They won't go lightly on
me. I'm sure of it."

"The Wizengamot won't chuck you into Azkaban over something as small as illegal
Apparition, though. Even if you are Muggle-born."

"Maybe." Lily looked away, chewing on her lip.

James ran a hand through his hair, confused. They'd had this conversation before, and she
hadn't cried over it then. What had changed? "Is something else on your mind?"

Lily sighed. Clouds swirled around her as she sank onto the plush blankets atop the bed.
"Does the Wizengamot call witnesses?"

"Er, I think so. Why?"

Lily didn't respond for a moment; she bent and dipped a hand into the clouds, which swirled
around her fingers. "Severus saw me."

"Severus — what?"

"I was at his house when I Apparated. He saw me do it." She raised her head to look at
James. "They'll call him as a witness, won't they?"

The answer was a resounding yes, but that definitely wouldn't soothe her. "Maybe they won't
think of it."

"James Fleamont Potter. Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not bullshitting you! I'm trying to think of a bright side!"

"There is no bright side!" she said, raising her voice. "They'll call on Sev to testify and he'll
make sure they throw the book at me, I know he will! He'll want to get even with me, after —
after…"

"After you snogged me in front of him and said I was your boyfriend?"

Lily buried her face in her hands. "I'm doomed."

"You're not doomed," said James, but Lily didn't look up.

"Am so." Her voice was muffled.

There was nothing he could say to improve her mood. That left only one thing to do, then. He
stepped closer and put his arms around her.

She tensed, and he froze. Had he crossed a line? He began to let go, but before he could pull
away completely, she relaxed into his arms.

They stayed that way for a long, quiet moment. At last, her shuddering breaths slowed to
match his, and he forced himself to pull away. "You ought to get some sleep."

Lily wrinkled her nose. "I'll try."

James felt the overwhelming urge to hug her again. He mussed his hair to give his hands
something to do. "See you tomorrow?"

She nodded.

His hand was on the doorknob when she cleared her throat.

"Erm. James?"

He turned, apprehensive, but she was smiling. "Thank you. I feel better."

James' chest filled with warmth. She felt better! He could have skipped down the hall. With a
great effort, he shut the door gently behind him and forced himself to walk normally down
the hall. As he passed the guest bedroom, he heard low, insistent voices coming from the
other side of the door.

Were Remus and Sirius quarrelling? That was unusual. Not wanting to eavesdrop, James
continued past the door, but paused when someone said his name.

"…just because James didn't tell you about him and Lily, that doesn't mean you've got to…"
said a voice. Remus, from the sound of it.

"Christ, Moony, it's nothing to do with James."

"Dorcas, then."

Sirius sounded confused. "Dorcas? What's she got to do with it?"

"Don't deny it. You looked put out when she and Marlene were holding hands — and you've
got a past —"

"That doesn't mean she's got to tell me everything she does. I don't tell people about everyone
I go round with —"

"Except me, is that right? What was that bit about us going to Madame Puddifoot's?"

"Moony. That was a joke."

"It wasn't funny."

Sirius fell silent. James began to suspect that he was listening in on something very private.

"I didn't —" said Sirius after a moment. "Look, I didn't mean anything by it, alright?"

"It wasn't very nice."

Sirius sounded genuinely bewildered. "Not nice? How so?"

"Because I'm — I've never…"

"Because you've never gone to Hogsmeade with anyone? That's nothing to be self-conscious
about, Moony! You just haven't found the right person, that's all."

"I'm not self-conscious about it, and it's not a matter of finding the right person. But you see
how it makes a nasty little joke. That's the funny bit, isn't it? That you'd take poor Remus,
who's —"

"But I would take you. If you wanted me."

Sirius sounded utterly sincere. James decided that he didn't need to hear more, and he began
to tiptoe away.

Remus' response came as James was sneaking down the hall. "That's enough, Sirius."
"You —"

"I'm tired." Remus' tone of voice made it clear that the conversation was over. "Let's go to
sleep."

Quietly, James crept back to the living room. Peter was snoring on the couch, but he stirred as
James curled up on the Manticore rug in front of the hearth. "How's Evans?" he asked
sleepily.

James was still thinking about Sirius and Remus. "What?"

"Is Evans alright? You were gone a while."

"Oh," said James. "Yeah, I suppose I was. She's alright."

"Good," said Peter, and he promptly fell back asleep.

Though James' eyelids were heavy, he stared into the fireplace, thinking hard. What had that
conversation between Sirius and Remus been about? It had sounded so… intimate. And
Remus — calm, unflappable Remus — had been angry.

With a sigh, James rolled over and placed his glasses on the hearth. Apparently, he wasn't the
only one keeping secrets from his friends; they were keeping things from him, too.

Morning came despite Lily's best efforts to forestall it. She'd been determined to toss and turn
all night, but Uncle Alphard's bed was so inviting that she fell asleep at once. When she
awoke, sunlight was streaming through the windows, and she had a crease on her cheek from
where it had pressed into the pillow.

After a quick bath, she charmed her hair dry and changed into the dress she and James had
bought together: a stylish yet modest blue wrap dress with white polka dots. It would have
been perfect at a Muggle hearing, which meant that the Wizengamot would not appreciate it
in the slightest. All the same, the familiar cut of the dress made her feel a bit more confident.

When she ventured out of the bedroom, the boys were already awake. Sirius and James were
in the kitchen, fiddling with the hob while Peter offered advice. Remus was sitting at the
table, reading the Daily Prophet.

"Morning," she said, joining Remus at the table.

"Wondergirl!" exclaimed Sirius. "You're just in time — we're making breakfast. How many
eggs do you want?"

"Er, two," said Lily, nonplussed, and Sirius added a few yolks to the frying pan.
"How're the eggs coming, by the way?" asked Remus from behind the paper. "It's been
twenty minutes, surely they're done by now?"

"Yours are almost ready," said Peter, craning his neck.

Lily followed his gaze; more than a dozen eggs crowded the frying pan, all completely raw.
Beside Sirius, James was turning knobs on the cooker seemingly at random.

"Sorry," she said, "but you do know how to turn it on, don't you?"

"Of course we do," said James. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the frying pan.

"Don't —" said Lily, but her words were lost in the commotion that followed. There was a
loud bang as the entire cooker exploded into flames.

James and Sirius jumped back, swearing. "Meant to do that," said James, reaching for his
wand. "I'll just — Aguamenti should do the trick…"

A minute later, the flames were gone, leaving only a smoking frying pan.

"How're my eggs?" asked Remus after a moment. "Not burnt, I hope…"

Just then, the fireplace in the living room flared, and Dorcas and Marlene stepped into the
apartment. Marlene's nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air. "Is something burning?"

"Not anymore," said Lily. "You didn't happen to bring any food, did you?"

"Afraid not," said Dorcas.

"That's fine," said Lily, even though it wasn't. What if she went to the Ministry on an empty
stomach and fainted during the trial? "I'm not hungry, anyway."

"There's some cereal, Lily," said Remus kindly, and he pushed a bowl towards her.

She accepted it gratefully. Maybe I won't pass out during the hearing after all, she thought.
At the first bite of cereal, however, her stomach twisted itself into knots. She forced herself to
swallow, then set down her spoon.

"Feeling alright, Lils?" asked Marlene.

"I'm fine," said Lily quickly. "A bit nervous, that's all."

Marlene sat down heavily at the table. Up close, she looked exhausted; her makeup was
smudged and her cropped blonde hair was tousled.

"Long night?" Lily asked.

"That's putting it lightly," said Marlene. "I think I slept for an hour, at most."

"Is that so?" Sirius waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Mind out of the gutter, pretty boy," said Dorcas, helping herself to some cereal. "We've been
on Order business."

Peter dropped his cup of tea, which smashed into pieces. "Quiet!" he yelped. "You shouldn't
say things aloud like that — Someone could overhear…"

"Like who?" asked James, repairing Peter's teacup with a wave of his wand.

"The Death Eaters —"

"Last I checked, Voldemort's followers weren't hiding in Uncle Alphard's cupboards,"

observed Sirius. Frying pan in hand, he took a seat beside Marlene and began to shovel burnt
eggs into his mouth. "Tell us more about your nighttime adventures, Marlene. Sounds
exciting."

"It was," said Marlene, perking up. "Had to be outside the Ministry at midnight for our shift
— just keeping an eye out, you know. Then we got a tip about an employee in the
Department of Security who's been acting funny — Imperiused, Dorcas thought — so we had
to follow up on that, and afterwards there was this Muggle family who nearly —"

"It was boring, really." Dorcas punctuated her statement with a yawn.

"Come off it," said Sirius. "Dumbledore's end-of-term speeches are boring. Working for the
Order sounds fascinating."

Dorcas shrugged. "I just don't appreciate being forced to stare at the entrance to the Ministry
for six hours."

"Who's forcing you?" asked James.

Dorcas jerked her chin towards Sirius. "His uncle, for one."

"Bullshit," said Sirius. "You wanted to join the Order. It isn't Alphard's fault if it's not as
glamorous as you thought it would be —"

"That's not it at all!" exclaimed Dorcas. She slumped in her chair, sighing. "Look, it's nothing
against Alphard, alright? But they — the Order, I mean — they keep giving me these rubbish
assignments while the rest of them do more important things. It's like they think I'm helpless
just because I'm a Muggle. It's maddening."

"I doubt it has anything to do with being a Muggle," said James, but Dorcas glared at him.

"Then why do they keep me in London while the rest of them go gallivanting around Europe?
Everyone's been at this point except me, and when I bring it up they won't — they never…"
She bit her lip and trailed off, clearly aware that she'd said too much.

"The Order have been to the continent?" asked Remus.

Peter scrunched his face, thinking hard. "What would they be doing in Europe?"
"No idea," said Dorcas sourly. "They don't tell me anything."

"It's for the best," said Marlene in a soothing voice. It was clear from her tone that she and
Dorcas had had this conversation before. "If anyone gets captured, you wouldn't want —"

"Yeah, yeah." Dorcas returned to her breakfast. "I know. I shouldn't be whining about it —
I'm just tired, that's all."

Half an hour later, they were out of cereal, and the dishes in the sink were scrubbing
themselves. "Ready?" James said to Lily, checking his watch. "You ought to leave in the next
five minutes to give yourself plenty of time. It won't look good if you showed up late to your
own hearing, after all."

The few spoonfuls of cereal that Lily had forced down threatened to come up again. Though
she'd been mentally rehearsing the directions to Courtroom Ten, where her hearing was to be
held, she suddenly couldn't even remember how to get to the Ministry. "What was the number
I'm supposed to dial in the telephone box?"

"Six two four four two," said James. "Once you're inside the Ministry, the security desk will
be on the left. After you submit your wand for examination, go past the fountain to the lifts at
the far end of the hall. Take the lift to the ninth floor, then take the stairs to the tenth. That's
where the courtrooms are."

Though James' directions were excellent, she doubted she would be able to remember them.
"Thanks," she said in a strained voice.

James caught the anxiety in her voice and smiled reassuringly at her. "Just think: in a few
hours this will all be behind you, and we'll be celebrating your victory in court."

"I wish you could come," Lily said. Realising how that sounded, she added, "I wish everyone
could."

"So do we," said James. "Think I can relate to Dorcas, actually. It'll be rubbish to wait here
while you're at the hearing."

Lily latched onto the change of subject. Anything to distract herself from the looming trial.
"Speaking of Dorcas… Remember what she said about Europe? I wonder if that's why Sirius'
uncle is away?"

"Yeah, could be," said James. "It's strange, isn't it? I always thought You-Know-Who was
content with terrorising Britain. He's no Gellert Grindelwald, right? But if the Order has
business on the continent…"

"Exactly," bluffed Lily. She didn't know the first thing about Gellert Grindelwald, but she
wasn't about to tell James that. "Before I leave — do I look alright?"

"Yeah, you look… good." Was it her imagination, or had he been about to say something
else?

"Thanks for helping me shop. I feel much better in this dress than I would in a set of robes."
"It suits you," said James, and for some reason that made Lily's cheeks burn. To disguise her
sudden embarrassment, she turned and made for the door.

He followed her. "We'll be worrying about you the entire time, you know."

"You'd better," she responded. "After everything I'm about to go through, spending every
second fretting over me is the least you can do. Especially if Severus shows up."

"If he does, I'll Transfigure that massive nose of his into an elephant trunk."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He cocked his head to the side, grinning at her. "See you after you've been
cleared of all wrongdoing."

Lily Apparated to the shabby side street where the visitor's entrance to the Ministry was
concealed. She thankfully remembered the number to dial in the telephone box, and she only
cringed a little when the badge that fell out of the metal coin chute read Lily Evans,
Disciplinary Hearing.

The telephone box sank into the ground like a lift, and after what felt hours, it shuddered to a
stop. The atrium of the Ministry of Magic was splendid, with gold accents and a royal blue
ceiling and hundreds of busy-looking wizards striding across the gleaming, dark wood floors.
Lily had never seen so many witches and wizards in one place; in hindsight, the decision to
wear a wrap dress from Selfridges seemed an obvious misstep. As she crossed the hall, she
felt glaringly out of place, as if she had a neon sign labelled 'Mudblood' pointed at her.

Halfway down the hall was a magnificent golden fountain that depicted a witch and wizard
surrounded by an assortment of magical creatures. As Lily passed in front of it, she swore the
golden witch was sneering down her nose at her. Silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glittered at
the bottom of the fountain, which gave her an idea: more out of defiance than anything, she
reached into her purse and dropped a two-pound coin into the fountain. The gold-ringed coin
stood out among the glistening Sickles and Knuts, and she took a certain satisfaction in the
thought that the snooty statue would have to stare at it until the end of time.

At the security desk, it took nearly five minutes before the guard in peacock-blue robes
returned her wand. He kept placing it on a funny-looking bronze scale, then removing it.
Each time, a slit at the base of the scale spat out a new slip of paper, which the wizard
scrutinised, as if expecting to see something different written there. After he had repeated this
ritual nearly a dozen times, Lily cleared her throat loudly.

The wizard jumped; he seemed to have forgotten that she was there. With a sceptical glance
at her Muggle dress, he returned her wand, muttering something about 'unusual
circumstances' and 'had to be certain'.

The lift to the ninth floor was blessedly empty. Lily slumped against the wall of the lift and
took a deep breath. Walking through the Ministry had been bad enough. The thought of the
entire Wizengamot scrutinising her like an exotic yet repulsive insect made her stomach turn.
She really wished she didn't have to do this alone.
The lift shuddered to a halt. Its doors opened with a clang, revealing a dimly-lit stone corridor
not unlike the dungeons of Hogwarts. Another flight of steps down, and she was in a corridor
lined with wooden doors that led to different courtrooms.

Lily stopped outside the largest, most foreboding door. It was locked with seven iron bolts,
and a metal plaque above the door read 'Courtroom Ten'.

She bit her lip. "I'm not going to be expelled," she said aloud.

The corridor's silence was its own response.

Well, no use prolonging things any longer, Lily thought. She took a deep breath, then pushed
the bolts aside and stepped into the room.
 The Hearing and the Head Boy

The courtroom was as dark and silent as a tomb. Row after row of stone benches rose
towards the ceiling, making Lily feel like she was standing at the bottom of a pit. She could
just make out the silhouettes of the Wizengamot in the highest benches. At least fifty witches
and wizards watched her from above with inscrutable expressions.

In the centre of the room was a chair. Lily supposed that was where she was to sit. As she
approached, her footsteps echoed off the chamber walls; she hadn't known it was possible to
walk so loudly. When she reached the chair, she hesitated. There were chains wrapped around
its arms and legs. Was she going to be tied up?

"Please sit," said someone far above her. The voice was older, male, and sounded vaguely
familiar — but she didn't know anyone on the Wizengamot, did she?

Lily sat. To her relief, the chains didn't bind her, and she relaxed a little. No matter what
happened next, at least she wouldn't be tied up in front of the most powerful mages in
wizarding Britain.

Just then, the wall sconces flared, casting the entire chamber in bright, flickering light. The
visages of the Wizengamot became clear, and Lily's mouth fell open. There, in the centre of
the highest bench, wearing vivid plum robes, was —

"Good morning, Miss Evans," said Albus Dumbledore.

Lily's heart beat a rapid rhythm against her chest. "Professor," she managed. Why was he
here? Was he going to speak on her behalf? No, that was stupid — he was wearing the same
robes as the rest of the Wizengamot. But wait —

Her eyes fell across a golden plaque in front of Dumbledore. Chief Warlock, it read. Lily
didn't know what a Chief Warlock did, but she assumed that meant he was in charge.

No wonder James wasn't worried, she realised. He knew Dumbledore would be at my

hearing.

Maybe she would get off, after all. There was no way Dumbledore would send her to
Azkaban over something as trivial as unlicensed Apparition. Right?

"If you are ready, Miss Evans, we shall begin," said Dumbledore. He nodded towards the end
of the bench, where a dark-skinned, bespectacled boy who looked barely older than Lily
pulled out a quill and began to take notes. "We are gathered for a disciplinary hearing on the
twenty-first of June. The defendant, Miss Lily Evans, stands accused of violating the
International Statute of Secrecy. Her interrogators are myself — Albus Dumbledore, Chief
Warlock of the Wizengamot — as well as Amelia Susan Bones, Head Magistrate. Any
objections?"
Lily glanced at Madam Bones. She was an intimidating witch with a golden monocle in one
eye and brown hair gathered in a bun at the nape of her neck. She met Lily's eyes and
inclined her head slightly.

She won't be so bad as an interrogator, thought Lily. She couldn't explain how she knew this,
except that there was something about Madam Bones that reminded her of Professor
McGonagall. She seemed stern yet fair.

"The charges are as follows," continued Dumbledore, reading off a scroll of parchment. "That
Miss Evans performed unlicensed Apparition on the eighteenth of April at nine seventeen in
the evening, and that by Apparating into a Muggle residence, she has committed a Class
Seven misdemeanour under the twentieth clause of Section Ten of the International Statute of
Secrecy."

Lily tensed, certain that the Wizengamot would react with horror upon hearing that a
Muggle-born had broken the law. But no murmurs arose from the high stone benches; in fact,
most of the Wizengamot looked bored. A few exchanged knowing glances, and one witch
with frizzy hair shook her head, disappointed.

They expected this of me, Lily realised, and her face grew hot with shame and anger. They
believe that Muggle-borns have no respect for their laws, and I've just confirmed it.

"Miss Evans," said Dumbledore, leaning forward. "Do you have anything to add?"

His gaze was piercing, yet there was something encouraging in his expression. Lily
straightened, feeling suddenly determined. She'd been prepared to hang her head and
apologise, but that was off the table now. She was not about to confirm the prejudices of fifty
stuck-up pure-bloods.

"I do have something to say, actually."

That caused a stir among the members of the Wizengamot. Whispers filled the air, and the
boy who was taking notes scribbled furiously on his parchment. Dumbledore dipped his chin,
indicating that she should speak.

"What you said was true, Professor. I did Apparate without a license. But —"

"Couldn't wait till your exam, could you?" said the wizard sitting on Dumbledore's right. He
had black hair that was severely parted down the middle and a thin black moustache to
match. "You thought you'd make a mockery of our institutions, not caring if you were caught.
There are Death Eaters with more scruples…"

Madam Bones cut in; her voice was surprisingly deep. "I'm not sure what you're implying,
Bartemius."

"The girl's past is a complete unknown. For all we know, she could be consorting with He-
Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers. Perhaps on the night she Apparated, she was
attempting to contact the Death Eaters when something went awry…"
"A grave accusation, Barty," said Dumbledore. "Do you have any evidence to substantiate
your claim?"

The wizard's perfectly-groomed moustache quivered. "I…"

"Without proof, this line of questioning is futile," said Madam Bones sharply. "I wish to hear
the facts of this case, not baseless speculation."

"Then further testimony is needed," said Dumbledore. "Please continue, Miss Evans."

Lily took a deep breath. Time to convince the entire Wizengamot that she wasn't a Death
Eater. "When I Apparated that night, I did it to defend myself. Somebody was threatening
me, and I needed to get away."

"Threatening you?" boomed Madam Bones. "In what way?"

"Do you know Caradoc Dearborn?" said Lily. "He's the Head of the Department of
International Magical Cooperation — he wrote the Muggle-Born Protection Act."

"We are well-acquainted with Caradoc," said the wizard with the moustache. "Your point,
please, Miss… Evans."

He pronounced her surname as though he didn't believe it was truly hers, but Lily refused to
let him under her skin. "Dearborn's daughter, Sally, went missing last year," she said. "Did
you know that?"

A few of the Wizengamot looked uncomfortable. "We were informed of the situation," said
Madam Bones. "What is your point?"

"The night that I Apparated without a license, I was investigating what happened to Sally,"
said Lily. "I went to the house of a Hogwarts student who was involved in her disappearance.
I just wanted to talk to him, but he grabbed me and tried to use magic to read my mind."

"Mind reading does not exist," said Madam Bones. "The brain cannot be perused like a
book."

"Whatever you want to call it, then," said Lily. "He tried to take my thoughts from me against
my will. That's when I Disapparated. I didn't do it for a laugh — I did it to get away from
him."

Madam Bones frowned. "Forcible use of Legilimency is a serious offence in its own right."

"That is beyond the scope of this hearing," retorted the wizard with the moustache. "Besides,
you assume that this little girl is telling the truth."

"I see no reason for her to lie," said Madam Bones. "She admitted to Disapparating, after all."

"And yet we are only hearing her version of events," said the wizard. "Carefully concocted to
remove all culpability —"
Frustration crept into Lily's voice. "Sir, I wasn't finished —"

"We ought to hear both sides of this story, don't you think?" the wizard asked the rest of the
Wizengamot. "Peakes, bring in the witness."

Lily's heart dropped. She knew it. Severus was going to testify against her. There was no
chance he'd show her mercy, not after she'd rescued Sally Dearborn from under his nose and
openly kissed James in front of him.

The boy with the spectacles, Peakes, rose from his seat and scurried down the stone steps,
past Lily. The door behind her creaked as the boy opened it. Lily didn't turn around; she'd
catch a glimpse of Severus soon enough.

There was a pause. A few members of the Wizengamot looked puzzled.

"Well?" said the wizard with the moustache.

Behind Lily, Peakes cleared his throat. "Mr Crouch, sir. He's not here."

He shut the door and hastened back to his seat. The wizard — Mr Crouch — scowled. "What
do you mean, he isn't here, boy? We sent him an owl — I was quite certain…"

Beside Mr Crouch, Dumbledore looked unperturbed. "If Severus Snape has decided not to
attend this hearing, we must continue without him. Let us return to the matter at hand. Miss
Evans, please finish telling us what happened on the night you Apparated."

"Oh," said Lily, disoriented. Why hadn't Severus shown up? Mr Crouch was right — surely
Severus had received an owl from the Ministry. Why would he pass up this opportunity to
humiliate her?

"You spoke previously about Disapparating because you feared for your safety," Dumbledore
reminded her gently. "Would you be so kind as to tell us your destination?"

"Er, right," said Lily. "I just went home, to my room. That's all."

Madam Bones gave her a keen look. "The infirmary record at Hogwarts shows that you
received treatment for a Splinching on the nineteenth of April. Is that correct?"

Lily sighed. She hadn't wanted to bring that up. "Yes, ma'am. I, er, left part of my foot
behind."

To her surprise, Madam Bones looked pleased. "There you have it," she said, turning to the
other members of the Wizengamot. "The Splinching proves Miss Evan's Apparition was not
premeditated. That drops the severity of the charge from a Class Seven to a Class Five
misdemeanour."

"I wouldn't be so certain." Mr Crouch eyed Lily with more suspicion than ever. "The more
familiar one is with a location, the less likely a Splinching. Perhaps the Muggle residence
was not this girl's home, simply a convenient cover story to hide her true allegiances —"
"Her allegiances to whom, incidentally?" asked Madam Bones.

"I think you know exactly who —"

"Perhaps, Barty," said Dumbledore. "Or perhaps Miss Evans was a witch in her sixth year
who had not yet mastered the knack of Apparating, and given the stress of her situation, was
unable to perform the task properly."

Mr Crouch didn't look convinced, but he made no reply.

"I think this hearing has gone on long enough," said Madam Bones. "It is time we put the
matter to a vote."

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "Miss Evans ought to be going on with her day — as should we.
Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?"

Only two members of the Wizengamot raised their hands. Dumbledore was not among them.

Betrayal soured Lily's stomach. She'd thought Dumbledore was on her side. But —

"Those in favour of conviction?" asked Dumbledore.

The remaining forty-eight members of the Wizengamot raised their hands in unison, like a
practised choreography. There were so many hands in the air. So many stern faces loomed
from the stone benches.

Lily's heartbeat pounded in her eardrums. She was going to be found guilty.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, whose hands had remained clasped in front of him. "Miss
Evans, the Wizengamot has found you guilty of a Class Five misdemeanour. In simple terms,
this means —"

He didn't vote, Lily realised numbly. The Chief Warlock leads the proceedings but doesn't get
a vote. A few minutes ago, she might have found that fact interesting.

Dumbledore was still talking, but she couldn't focus on what was being said. A single word
hammered through her mind like the pounding of a gavel. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

"Miss Evans," said Dumbledore. "Did you understand all that?"

"Er…" Lily's voice faltered. She took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. "Could you
say it one more time, please?"

"Your Apparition license will be revoked," said Dumbledore gently. "You will be prohibited
from Apparating or using Side-Along Apparition. And you will have to pay a fine. Do you
find these terms acceptable?"

Lily blinked. Dumbledore hadn't mentioned Azkaban, right? Or expulsion from Hogwarts?
Or her wand being snapped? So that meant…
"You may appeal your ruling if you find your sentence unreasonable," added Madam Bones,
who seemed to believe she was giving Lily helpful advice. "If you choose to do so, there will
be a retrial, and we will re-examine the facts surrounding your case."

Mr Crouch's perfect moustache twisted as he grimaced. "A retrial is a double-edged sword,"

he growled. "If we uncover new evidence, you might not like how things turn out, young
lady. Darkness cannot hide from the light."

"I don't want to appeal." Lily was surprised at how strong her voice sounded. "I accept the
consequences. They're fair. May I leave now?"

Dumbledore nodded and motioned for the Wizengamot to adjourn. Lily hurried out of the
stone chamber as soon as she could, irrationally afraid that they would change their minds if
she lingered. It wasn't until she had left the Ministry entirely and was standing on the
pavement of Muggle London that she felt like she could breathe again. She shielded her face
against the intense sunshine and smiled.

It was over. She wasn't going to Azkaban! All they'd given her was a measly ban from
Apparating. That was inconvenient, but it wasn't as if she loved magical means of
transportation, anyway. And she'd pay a million fines if it meant returning to Hogwarts.

James and the others are going to be so happy, she thought as she walked back to Uncle
Alphard's flat. She couldn't wait to tell them the excellent news.

James had never imagined that Lily's trial would go so poorly.

"You're joking," he said for the fifth time.

"I'm not," said Lily. The group was gathered at the table in Uncle Alphard's flat, ostensibly
for lunch, though nobody had touched a thing except Lily. She had devoured a sandwich and
was now sipping a cup of tea, looking entirely too calm about the situation.

James ran his hands through his hair, which was almost sticking straight up at this point.
"How can you — how can you sit there drinking tea when — when —"

As if to prove a point, Lily took a long sip before responding. "It's fine, James. I was
expecting so much worse."

"Worse?" he exclaimed. "They banned you from Apparating — permanently!" He looked to

Sirius for support, but Sirius was fiddling with a Muggle lighter Dorcas had given him.

"We can appeal," said Marlene, who was nearly as upset as James. "This has got to be
unprecedented. I'm sure if we do a little digging, we can find some technicality to declare a
mistrial…"
"That's really not necessary, Marly," said Lily. "What's done is done — I'm just glad my wand
wasn't snapped."

"That was never in the realm of possibility," said James.

Remus made a noncommittal noise. "Twenty-four hours ago, I would have agreed with you.
But it never crossed my mind that they would ban her from Apparating, so…"

"I can't believe Dumbledore didn't do anything to stop it," said James. "I was certain he
wouldn't let them find you guilty. I thought he'd get you off."

"He hasn't got that kind of power over the Wizengamot," said Lily. "He doesn't even vote."

"Bullshit." Sirius glanced up from the lighter. "Dumbledore's the only reason wizarding
Britain is still standing. He's got more power than Lord Voldemort, even."

"Don't — Don't call You-Know-Who that!" said Peter shrilly.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "That's your contribution to this discussion, Pete?"

"You shouldn't," said Peter. "It's bad luck. That's the name he wants Muggle-borns to use."

Lily's voice was sharper than any knife. "And why would calling him the same name as
Muggle-borns be bad luck?"

"It isn't bad luck," said Sirius. "Besides, I'm certainly not going to call him the Dark Lord…"

"Peter's got a point," said Remus. "Well, sort of."

"You too, Moony?" Sirius looked disappointed.

"Yes, but with a caveat," responded Remus. "I venture that we shouldn't call him 'Lord' in the
first place. When we use names like 'the Dark Lord' or 'Lord Voldemort', we grant him power.
I don't think we should make it so easy for him."

"Yeah!" said Peter triumphantly. "You see?"

"He wasn't agreeing with you, Pete," said Sirius nastily.

Lily looked thoughtful. "That was well-said, Remus. I think you're right."

"Me, too," said James automatically, although he didn't understand what all the fuss was
about. Lord Voldemort wasn't a real lord, and he never would be. So who cared if he gave
himself a fake title? He could call himself the Queen of England for all it mattered, but it
wouldn't change a thing.

"Voldemort is a stupid name, anyway." Sirius pronounced the name in perfect French. "Thief
of death. As if death can be stolen from — shit." He blew on his finger, which he'd burnt on
the lighter.
"Sounds like something Mulciber and his gang might come up with," agreed James. "Which
fits, I suppose."

"Speaking of," said Marlene, "Snape was at the hearing, wasn't he, Lils? Is that why they
didn't let you off?"

"He wasn't, actually," said Lily. "That was the funny bit. They invited him, but he didn't show
up."

James frowned. "Since when does Snivellus pass up an opportunity to humiliate you in
public?"

Lily's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I know. I was surprised, too."

"Wish I knew what he was plotting," said James.

Remus hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe he didn't believe anything fruitful would come of
being present for the hearing."

Sirius snorted. "Since when does Snivellus worry about being fruitful?"

"Well," said Peter, "if I were a wannabe Death Eater who tried to murder Caradoc Dearborn's
daughter, and the Wizengamot invited me to testify before them, I'm not so certain I'd show
up, either."

"Exactly," said Remus.

James was still ruminating on Lily's hearing. "So you don't want us to do anything?" he
asked, a tad more forcefully than he'd meant.

"Nothing that involves me going on trial again," responded Lily. "I can't imagine a retrial
would go any better than this one did."

Embarrassment squeezed James' ribcage like a vice; he couldn't believe he'd been so blind to
the way Muggle-borns were treated. If it had been him on trial, the sole heir to the Potter
name, he'd have been declared innocent within the first five minutes. In fact, there likely
wouldn't have been a trial in the first place — not over something as silly as illegal
Apparition. He felt foolish for assuming that the Wizengamot would treat Lily with the same
fairness they would have shown him.

"I'm going to write a letter," he announced to the table at large.

"To who?" asked Sirius. "Your mum?"

James ignored him. "To the editor of the Daily Prophet. You know, the bloke with the
enormous beard. What's his name again?"

"Barnabas Cuffe," supplied Remus.

Lily narrowed her eyes. "If you're about to write to the editor of the Daily Prophet about
me…"

"I'm not!" James realised he needed to backtrack a little. "Not about you, specifically. But the
way Muggle-borns are being treated is an outrage. Someone ought to bring it to old Cuffe's
attention."

"And what if he already knows?" asked Remus.

"He doesn't," said James. "A lineage like his? I'm certain he doesn't. Wizarding Britain's got
its head in the sand when it comes to Muggle-born discrimination. Someone needs to inform
the public about what's going on."

"Yeah, I'm sure a letter from a Hogwarts student will change everything," said Sirius
sarcastically.

"Only one letter?" said James. "That wasn't what I had in mind…"

Three weeks later, James and the other Marauders were sprawled across Uncle Alphard's
living room, writing letters to the Daily Prophet. The only person who wasn't hard at work
was Peter; he was lying on his back, eating a cheese sandwich. Beside him, a fluffy black
quill zoomed across a roll of parchment, writing a letter of its own accord.

"Get back to work, Pete," said James, who was on his seventeenth letter of the day. His hand
was starting to cramp quite badly, but he considered that a good thing; the writing was
building up his finger muscles, which would give him an edge during the upcoming
Quidditch season.

"I am working," said Peter around a mouthful of sandwich. He nodded at the black quill.

"That doesn't count," said James. "The goal is to inundate Cuffe with letters until he can't
ignore us. You ought to be writing with both hands and the quill."

Remus finished up a letter, which he signed 'Lemus Rupin'. Sirius peered over his shoulder.
"'Lemus Rupin'? You might as well have signed it, 'Definitely Not a Pseudonym'…"

"My aunt's name is Lemus," responded Remus.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," said Sirius, as though Remus had said his aunt had passed away.
James snorted.

"Lemus isn't that bad," said Peter. "It beats Bogdana, anyway. That's my aunt's name."

"Well, I know what I'm calling my future daughter," said James. "Bogdana Lemus Potter has
quite a ring to it."

Sirius laughed. "Rolls right off the tongue."

Peter sat up, looking alarmed. "Are you and Lily… you know…" He lowered his voice to a
dramatic whisper. "Expecting?"
James began to choke. Sirius pounded him on the back as he coughed. "Expecting?" he
wheezed once he'd caught his breath. "Pete, are you insane?"

"Just wondering," said Peter. "Don't get me wrong, Lily's fantastic. But it's a bit soon to be
picking out baby names, isn't it?"

"I was joking," said James. And he had been. Mostly.

"Of course you were," said Sirius. Beside him, Remus raised his eyebrows.

Peter glanced past James, towards the window. "Hang on. Is that an owl?"

James turned around. Perched on the windowsill was a handsome eagle owl with a thick,
cream-coloured envelope in its beak.

"Cuffe's responded!" exclaimed Sirius, throwing open the window. "Thank Merlin, it only
took three weeks and five thousand letters —"

He reached for the envelope, but the owl soared past Sirius and into the flat. It circled the
room once — it was so large its wingtips nearly brushed the walls — then dropped the
envelope in James' lap and flew out the window, disappearing into the muggy London sky.

James picked up the envelope, which felt oddly heavy. 'Mr James Potter' was written in
sloping script across the front. That was strange; he'd taken care to use pseudonyms when
writing to the Prophet. He turned the envelope over, then froze. He rubbed his eyes several
times, certain he was seeing things.

"Well?" Sirius looked expectantly at James. "What're you waiting for?"

"Er." James stared at the wax seal on the back of the envelope. "Why would Barnabas Cuffe
send me an envelope sealed with the Hogwarts crest?"

"Maybe he's teaching Defence this year," said Remus.

"Yeah," said Peter. "Or there might have been a mix-up with the stamps."

"Don't be daft, Pete," said Sirius. "A mix-up with the stamps? Do you actually believe that?"

"I dunno," said Peter. "Maybe Cuffe keeps a stamp of the Hogwarts crest right next to his
usual Ministry stamp. Maybe he was distracted by the influx of letters at his desk and
grabbed the wrong one —"

"That's a good theory," said Remus. "Personally, I suspect the letter was sent not by Cuffe,
but by the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Process of elimination, you know. Though I've been
wrong before…"

"James," said Sirius, "if you stare at that envelope any longer, your eyeballs will fall out of
your head. Just open it, will you?"
"Alright, alright." James slit open the envelope. "I'm a bit confused, that's all. Our book list
isn't supposed to come until —" He broke off. Inside the envelope was a neatly-folded piece
of parchment and a dazzling silver badge.

"Merlin's tits," said Peter.

"I don't believe it," said Sirius. "Holy shit. Holy arse-buggering shit."

Remus said something even fouler. "James. You're Head Boy?"

"No," said James immediately, and he tossed the envelope and its contents across the room,
as if it were about to explode. "No way. There must have been a mistake. I'm not…"

Sirius howled with laughter. "You're Head Boy! Oh, this'll be rich. James Fleamont Potter, in
charge of all the insufferable prefects at Hogwarts. I can't wait."

James turned to Remus and jabbed a finger at him. "You were supposed to be Head Boy!" he
said accusingly. "We've had this planned since our second year!"

"Don't yell at him," said Sirius. "It's not his fault you got all noble on us last year. Saving
Sally Dearborn like you did, it's no wonder —"

Remus seemed nearly as shocked as James; it took him a moment to respond. "I wonder who
might be Head Girl," he said at last in a carefully measured voice.

Sirius' smile grew incredulous. "D'you think?"

"It's likely, isn't it?" asked Remus.

"Who's likely?" said Peter, looking back and forth between them.

James felt like he was short-circuiting. "No. Dumbledore wouldn't —"

"He would," said Sirius. "Merlin bless that meddling old warlock, this is right up his alley. I
bet he's been planning it for years."

"If she's Head Girl," said James slowly, "and I'm Head Boy…"

"Sorry," said Peter, "but if who's Head Girl?"

Sirius grinned. "Lily Evans."

Peter's jaw dropped. "I don't believe it."

"I do," said Sirius. "Who else would be Head Girl? She's leagues above the rest of the girls in
our year — none of the others even come close."

"You ought to be thanking your lucky tea leaves, Prongs," said Peter. "Dating Lily Evans and
you're going to be Heads together."
"Some people have all the luck," agreed Remus. James thought he heard a note of bitterness,
but Remus smiled at him. "You're going to write to her, I assume? To find out if she's
received the badge?"

"Er," said James evasively. He had a sneaking suspicion Lily would not be glad that he was
Head Boy. Maybe it was best to let her find out once they were back at Hogwarts. "I dunno."

"Oh, come off it," said Sirius. "Write to her. She's your girlfriend, isn't she? She'll be thrilled."

"Why don't you do it, Moony?" asked James.

Remus gave him a strange look. "Why would I do that?"

James realised it would look odd if he admitted that he was scared of Lily's reaction. The
Marauders thought they were dating, after all. "Well," he said, thinking quickly, "we ought to
confirm she's Head Girl before we tell her I've got the badge, too. Just in case Dumbledore
didn't pick her."

"Rubbish," said Sirius. "Who else would he choose? Daisy Hookum?"

"I think someone is frightened of his own girlfriend," said Remus in an unusually biting tone.
He must have realised how he sounded, because he gave James a half-smile. "That isn't to say
I won't do it, Prongs."

"Thank Merlin," said James. "I owe you one. When we get back to Hogwarts, I'll buy you all
the Chocolate Cauldrons that Honeydukes has to offer."

"A fine payment," said Remus, who was already pulling out a quill and parchment.

When Remus left the flat that evening, he chose to make a poor decision.

He wasn't sure what it said about him that even his poor decisions were planned in advance.
But instead of Apparating home, where his father was surely pretending to read a book while
he waited for Remus to return, Remus began to run.

Well. More like jog. The full moon was approaching, and his knees were acting up.

He turned down one narrow street after the next, sticking to the shadows and avoiding the
artificial yellow light from the electric lamp posts. At last, he spotted a dingy, solidly Muggle
pub that looked like it would suit his needs, and he ducked inside.

The pub was mostly empty. The place appeared to have been popular a decade ago, but it was
now dying a slow death, like a neglected houseplant. In other words, it was the perfect spot to
have a sulk.
The barkeep poured Remus a beer without bothering to ask his age. Remus brought his drink
to a shadowed table in the corner and began to chew on a nail.

I'm only going to feel sorry for myself for five minutes, he decided. That was plenty — any
more would be indulgent and, quite frankly, unhelpful.

He should have foreseen that James would be chosen as Head Boy. Captain of the Quidditch
team, top of the class without trying… to make matters worse, James had been born with a
sense of justice that even his spoiled upbringing couldn't quash. Saving Sally Dearborn was
the cherry on top. Of course Dumbledore chose James — who wouldn't have?

And yet. He allowed himself to feel momentarily bitter. The Head Boy is always a prefect.
Always.

Remus was pragmatic: he had done the calculations in his fifth year, as soon as he'd learned
he was prefect. He had assumed that out of all the prefects, he was the most likely to become
Head Boy. He had been respectful, friendly, and forward-thinking without being pushy. If he
was being honest with himself, he had believed he was a shoo-in for the position.

How foolish that assumption seemed now. Of course Dumbledore would have no trouble
breaking tradition to crown James as Head Boy.

Did Dumbledore realise what he had done by choosing James instead of Remus? Remus
needed that badge. Without it, who would give him a job after he graduated Hogwarts? Who
would hire a person that needed at least two nights off every month, whose requests were
predictable because they tracked with the moon cycle…

Who would hire a werewolf?

Nobody, thought Remus sourly. But if I'd been Head Boy, I might have had a chance.

With that badge, a sympathetic employer might have given him the benefit of the doubt. It
might have been possible for shop owners to look past his affliction, thinking, Dumbledore
backs him, so I'll do the same.

Well, so much for that dream.

"Is this seat taken?"

Remus looked up and nearly jumped in surprise; Sirius was standing over him, a foaming
glass of beer in hand.

"What're you doing here?"

"I could ask the same to you." Sirius sat smoothly across from Remus at the table.

Instead of answering, Remus took a sip of beer. He made a face. "Eurgh."

"Something the matter?"

"Nothing. It's bitter."

Sirius smirked. "I'd buy you a Butterbeer, but I don't think this place keeps any in stock."

"Funny," said Remus. "How did you know I was here?"

"I followed you, of course."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Explain."

Sirius looked suddenly sheepish. "Padfoot's got an excellent nose, you know. And your scent
isn't exactly subtle."

"Are you saying I stink?"

"Of course not! Merlin's tits, you are stroppy tonight, aren't you. No, Moony, you do not
stink. Quite the opposite, actually."

Remus didn't know what that meant. To avoid having to say anything, he took another
swallow of beer and pretended that he liked it.

"So," said Sirius when it became clear that Remus was not going to lead the conversation.
"James is Head Boy."

Remus hummed a little, the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

"Bit unexpected, isn't it?" said Sirius. "Everybody thought it would be you."

"Yes, well. I ought to have known I wouldn't qualify."

Sirius' grey eyes probed Remus' face. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"D'you want me to say it out loud, Pads? In this Muggle pub?"

"I don't know what you're getting at. You think Dumbledore didn't pick you because you
didn't get enough O.W.L.s?"

"Don't be cute. You and I both know why he didn't pick me, and it's nothing to do with my
marks." Not that kind of mark, anyway. Remus' hand nearly went to his shoulder blade,
where the scar was, but he stopped himself.

"Aha," said Sirius, jabbing a finger at Remus. "You think he didn't choose you because you're
a werewolf?"

Remus forced himself to modulate his voice. Sirius had no idea how much it stung to hear
those words aloud. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Not to me," said Sirius. "I don't think it was a factor at all."

"Bollocks. Of course it was."

"Dumbledore had no qualms about making you prefect. I don't see how Head Boy's any
different."

"The difference," said Remus through gritted teeth, "is that prefects don't need to be perfect
role models. The Head Boy is supposed to be someone first years can look up to. A Dark
creature could never —"

"Oh, please. My mum's a Dark creature. You're not."

"Legally —"

"Fuck what the laws say. Laws can be changed."

They'd had this argument before, and Remus wasn't in the mood. "Fine," he said. "Can you
think of another reason why Dumbledore didn't choose me?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "I've got several in mind, actually."

Remus blinked. Several reasons? Was Sirius about to rattle off a list of Remus' flaws? "Go
on, then," he said, clenching his glass of beer more tightly.

"Well," said Sirius, "it might have nothing to do with you at all. Dumbledore might have
wanted to reward James for finding Sally Dearborn last term. The Head Boy badge seems
like the best way to do that, since James already has everything else he could possibly want."

Remus let out a humourless laugh. "He does, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but don't hold it against him," said Sirius. "Not everyone can be as fucked up as we
are."

It wasn't often that Sirius was a voice of reason, but he had a point this time. Remus' stomach
curdled with guilt for having laughed at James. "That's true. I shouldn't make fun of him. But
if Dumbledore wanted to reward James, how could he not realise what that meant for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Without that badge, how am I going to get a job after Hogwarts? Dumbledore had to know
what the consequences would be for me. He just didn't care, I suppose."

"Oh, right," said Sirius sarcastically. "The greatest Headmaster in three centuries didn't care
about the only werewolf student that Hogwarts has ever seen. I'm sure he isn't invested in
your success at all."

"Then why…"

"I think he's got other plans for you," said Sirius. "Bigger plans. Better than being Head Boy.
In fact, I think being Head Boy would interfere with whatever he's got planned for you."

"That… sounds unlikely," said Remus. He would have put it in stronger terms, but Sirius
looked so earnest that he couldn't bring himself to put a damper on his enthusiasm.
"We'll see," said Sirius in that maddeningly self-assured way of his.

"Yes, we will," said Remus. "And when we've graduated and I can't keep a job, I'm going to
say 'I told you so.'"

"If that happens, we can both live off the Potter fortune," said Sirius. "Seeing as I don't want
a real job anyway."

"Oh, brilliant."

"It would be. We can spend all day faffing about the Shrieking Shack and squandering James'
galleons on Zonko's products. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Keep dreaming, Pads."

"You don't think that sounds ideal?"

"I think you're mental."

"And I think you're an incurable pessimist. But everything will be alright. You'll see." Sirius
polished off his beer, then pointed at Remus' glass. "Are you going to finish that?"
 Unwelcome Surprises
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Nearly a month after Lily's trial, she received a letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office.
It was brief, informing her that per the outcome of her hearing, she was responsible for
paying the Ministry a modest sum of one thousand Galleons, due immediately upon
graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Failure to pay the fine in its
entirety would result in the repossession and subsequent snapping of her wand. The Ministry
bids you good day, concluded the letter, as though that softened the blow.

Lily read the letter three times before the reality of her situation sank in. One thousand
galleons, she thought, doing the maths in her head. That was nearly five thousand pounds.

She was completely and utterly doomed.

There was no way she would be able to scrape together enough to pay her fine by next June.
As a Muggle-born student, she received a small stipend at Hogwarts that was enough to cover
the cost of books and school equipment, plus a little extra for Hogsmeade weekends. But
even if she saved every Knut this year, she would still owe the Ministry more than nine
hundred and fifty Galleons.

Someone rapped on her bedroom door. Lily jumped and hid the letter behind her back. "Yes?"
she said, trying to sound casual.

Petunia opened the door with a scowl. "You've got more post," she said, thrusting a pair of
envelopes at Lily.

"Oh. Thanks."

"One of the owls put its foot in the sugar bowl," added Petunia, obviously expecting Lily to
apologise for the owl's misdeeds.

Lily was not in the mood. "Well, it's an animal. You can't expect it to know that the sugar
bowl is off-limits."

"I thought they were supposed to be magic," snapped Petunia.

Lily examined her nails, feigning boredom. "Maybe it did it on purpose, then."

Petunia slammed the door and stomped down the stairs.

Lily sank onto her bed, placing the letter from the Ministry gingerly at her side. One of the
envelopes Petunia had given her was from Remus Lupin; the other bore a wax seal of the
Hogwarts crest and was surprisingly heavy.
Lily stared at the Hogwarts crest, biting her lip. Could this be a letter from Dumbledore? He
was the Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot; he had to know that the fine the Ministry had
given her was absurd. Maybe he'd written to her with a solution. Was that something he
would do?

She decided to start with Remus' letter first, as it seemed exponentially safer.

Dear Lily,

I trust this letter finds you well. I was only wondering if you had received any post from
Hogwarts? If not, I expect Dumbledore will be in touch soon, if you catch my drift.

Hopefully I haven't spoiled the surprise by asking. Just wanted to be the first to congratulate
you — we both know you deserve it, no need to be modest!

Warmest regards,

Remus

Lily chewed her lip. How did Remus know she'd receive a letter from Hogwarts? If it was
something to do with the thousand Galleon fine, how did he know about it already? She eyed
the Hogwarts envelope suspiciously. She didn't know what it would be about, if not the fine.
Booklists normally arrived at the end of August, and it wasn't as if she and Dumbledore
regularly corresponded.

Out of habit, she slit the Hogwarts envelope open with her nails instead of using her wand.
Nestled inside was a neatly-folded piece of parchment and a shining silver badge.

Lily picked up the badge, frowning. 'Head Girl' was written on it in brilliant script. Tiny
gemstones encircled its edges, glittering in all four House colours: rubies, sapphires,
emeralds, and topaz, from the looks of it. She couldn't help but wonder how many Galleons
the jewels were worth.

Probably less than a thousand, she thought gloomily, and she turned her attention to the letter
accompanying the badge.

Miss Evans, read the letter in looping, narrow writing. I hope you are well on your way to
recovering from the indignities of last month's trial. It is high time that I rewarded you for
your boldness, sharp thinking, and unwavering sense of justice. Please accept this badge as a
token of my gratitude for all you have done for Hogwarts. There is no student, pure-blooded
or otherwise, who is more deserving.

"This has to be a joke," said Lily, as though the badge could respond to her. This was
Dumbledore's way of rewarding her? She would have been proud to receive the badge a
month ago, but now… she'd rather have a thousand Galleons, all told. Being Head Girl
sounded like more attention that she didn't want. She could practically hear the whispers from
the Slytherins when they realised a Muggle-born had been made Head Girl. Would they even
listen to her?
At least Remus' letter made a lot more sense now. He would be Head Boy, of course. There
was no better choice. And for Dumbledore to have chosen Remus as Head Boy spoke
volumes. She'd long since guessed that Remus was afflicted by lycanthropy, and her
suspicions had been confirmed during her apprenticeship to Madam Pomfrey. No wonder
Remus had written to her — he was probably feeling just as much pressure to succeed as she
was.

Well. She gave the badge a stern look, then pinned it to her blouse. She would see to it that
they were the best Heads that Hogwarts had ever seen. The castle was bound to be full of
students waiting for her to fail. But they would have to keep waiting.

As the first of September drew closer, each warm summer day melted into the next; lazy
mornings gave way to tranquil afternoons and cool nights curled up with a book. Lily had
never been so content to spend the holidays in ordinary, carefree Cokeworth. No more owls
swooped in through the kitchen window, and she didn't open the seventh-year textbooks that
the befuddled postman left on her doorstep. Her wand gathered dust on her bedside table, and
on the thirty-first of August, it took a few tries before she was able to charm her belongings
into her trunk.

Her mum dropped her off at Cokeworth's single-platform train station that afternoon, and the
subsequent journey to London was horrifically dull. After nearly an hour of staring out the
window, Lily was even bored enough to open her copy of Advanced Rune Translation. For
the first time, she regretted having lost her license to Apparate.

At last, she arrived in London and settled into the small room above the Leaky Cauldron that
she had rented for the night. By bedtime, she had completed a single chapter of the assigned
reading for Ancient Runes and three lines of her Transfiguration essay. She wondered idly if
Professor McGonagall would revoke her Head Girl badge if she was late to turn in her
summer homework.

As if Potter and his mates haven't done worse, she thought, climbing into bed.

Potter. She would see him aboard the Hogwarts Express the next day, wouldn't she? The
notion made her stomach flutter a little.

Just as quickly, the fluttering turned into nausea. Surely she wasn't excited to see James
Potter. Not that obnoxious toerag who had teased her mercilessly for years. He was a git
whose brain was so full of Quidditch facts that it wouldn't fit anything else. And somebody
needed to tell him that mussing his hair didn't make it look windswept, just tangled and
ridiculous.

No. She wasn't excited to see him. She was merely looking forward to being at Hogwarts
again, and James was one of the people she associated with Hogwarts. That was all.
To prove this point, she tried to think of other positive aspects of Hogwarts. It was difficult.

Being Head Girl will be nice, she thought, even as her stomach knotted more tightly. She
imagined standing before the four long tables of the Great Hall, feeling hundreds of eyes on
her, watching her, judging. She could practically hear the whispers.

Enough. She was not going to be tormented by her own mind. "I'm going to do a great job,"
she said aloud to the darkened room.

"You certainly will, dearie," replied a voice, and Lily nearly jumped out of bed in fright. But
no — it was only the mirror in the corner. She'd forgotten that magical items had a tendency
to talk.

"It's true," she said, as though it mattered what the mirror thought of her. "And I don't give a
damn about Potter."

The mirror made a sound that was unmistakably a yawn. "Whatever you say, dove."

The next morning, Lily took the Tube to King's Cross, which was bustling with activity. The
crowd was mostly Muggle, though she did spot a couple of Aurors dressed not in scarlet
robes but in impeccably tailored suits. They nearly passed as Muggles, except they were
eyeing the barrier between platforms nine and ten with far too much suspicion to be mere
businessmen.

Before Lily stepped through the barrier, she took a moment to gaze around King's Cross. The
throng of Muggles flowed around her like a river; some people ambled towards their
destination, while others hurried by. She had no idea where any of them were going, but she
found herself feeling quite fond as she watched. She'd never been so reluctant to leave the
Muggle world before.

What would she find upon stepping foot on platform nine and three-quarters? Had the
magical world changed at all? It had been months since she'd last read the ominous headlines
of the Daily Prophet. Still, even she would have heard if the war was over. The lack of news
on that front could only mean that Lord Voldemort was as much of a threat as ever.

"Is everything alright, miss?" asked one of the sharply-dressed businessmen.

Lily blinked. The man's hand rested oddly on his forearm: he had his wand up his sleeve, no
doubt.

"Fine," she replied, and before he could respond, she leaned into the barrier separating
platforms nine and ten.

On platform nine and three-quarters, the Aurors had no need to disguise themselves; they
were positioned at regular intervals along the platform, wands drawn. Lily cut a path through
the throng of students — they got smaller every year, how was that possible? — and boarded
the train. She ducked into an empty compartment long enough to change clothes and store her
trunk, then made her way to the prefects' compartment, pinning her silver Head Girl badge to
her robes.
The weight of the badge against her collarbone gave her courage. She deserved this. She
wouldn't muck anything up. And if she did… well, Remus would be there to help her make
things right.

She made it to the prefects' compartment just as the Hogwarts Express lurched and began to
trundle away from the platform. Although the compartment was filled with eager fifth-years
sporting their new badges, she had no trouble spotting Remus, who was seated near the back.
Perched next to him, whispering something in his ear, was — her heart thudded
uncomfortably — James Potter.

Remus spotted her before James did. The skin around his eyes crinkled affectionately as he
beckoned her to join them. "Long time no see, Lily."

James nearly toppled over. "Lily! Hullo!" He stuck out a hand as if going for a handshake,
then promptly retracted it and mussed his hair instead. The motion caused something on his
chest to glimmer; he was wearing Remus' Head Boy badge, for some reason.

"Hi," said Lily. Her cheeks felt hot, but she had no idea why she would be blushing.

"Did you have a nice summer?" asked James. He was bursting with more energy than usual;
he kept shifting position in his seat and was jiggling one leg rather violently.

"Aside from the hearing, you mean?"

"Oh!" said James, and his leg froze. "Stupid of me. I forgot. That is — I didn't actually forget,
I'm not an arsehole. It — it just…"

"Slipped your mind," supplied Remus.

"Yeah." James sounded relieved that Remus had come to his aid. "The rest of your summer,
was it alright?"

"It was lovely," said Lily. She gave Remus a meaningful look. "Shall we…?"

Remus blinked. "Pardon?"

"You know." Lily tapped her badge. "We ought to assign the corridor patrols, don't you think?
Maybe say a few words about the upcoming year?"

Remus' mouth fell open. "That… I…" He turned accusingly to James. "You didn't tell her?"

James was bouncing his leg up and down so quickly that Lily thought it might fly off. "Erm.
About that."

"About what?" she said.

James ducked his head, not meeting her eyes. "Er… Remus isn't Head Boy." He fiddled with
the badge on his chest.
That didn't make any sense. "You're not?" Lily asked Remus. He exhaled heavily and gave
her a pained look. She frowned. "Then who…?"

Remus jerked his head towards James, who was still adjusting the Head Boy badge.

An appalling thought occurred to Lily. She shook her head. "No."

"As a matter of fact," began James in a very small voice.

Her response was sharp. "As a matter of fact what."

He swallowed hard. "I might be — Dumbledore might have…" Words failed him, and he
gestured uselessly at the silver badge pinned to his robes. "I'm, er, Head Boy?"

Lily took a step backwards. "That's not funny." She looked towards Remus, hoping he would
tell her it was all a terrible prank. "It isn't funny, Remus."

For someone who was in on the joke, there was a surprising lack of humour in Remus' voice.
"That was my initial reaction as well, yes."

Lily realised with dawning horror that the badge on James' chest might not be a prank. "Oh,
my God. You're serious. Dumbledore actually made you Head Boy."

James had the audacity to smile at her. It was frightfully disarming. "Looks like it," he said,
and after a moment's hesitation, he extended a hand. "I look forward to our partnership, Li—"

This was awful. It was bad enough that her stupid heart flip-flopped whenever he was
around, but this — this would ruin everything.

She grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him to his feet. "We need to talk. Now."

She pulled James by the wrist and marched past Remus, ignoring the alarmed look on his
face. The other prefects must have sensed that she was perfectly willing to barrel into them,
because they parted before her without hesitation. It was a little disappointing; she would
have liked to step on a foot or two.

There was a toilet in the corridor that separated the prefects' compartment from the rest of the
train. Lily pushed James inside, then followed.

"Alright." She locked the door and turned around. There was barely enough room in the toilet
for both of them, which would have been distracting at the best of times. As things stood, it
was terribly inconvenient that he was so close when she was absolutely infuriated with him.

She crossed her arms, refusing to lean away from him; she wasn't about to let him see her
discomfort. "Remus told you I was Head Girl, didn't he?"

James was stooped over so as not to hit the ceiling. His face was inches from her own. "Er,"
he said, looking alarmed. "He might have mentioned it, yeah…"
Lily nearly exploded with anger. "Why didn't you tell me you were Head Boy?! You let me
think it was Remus! Didn't so much as send an owl, did you, nothing to say, 'hi Lily, just a
heads up, we'll be seeing quite a lot of each other from now on —' "

"I thought about it!" he said defensively.

"Oh, brilliant," she said. "That's even better. You thought about informing me, but then
decided against it, because God forbid I have any warning —"

James let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand through his hair. "That's not it at all!"

"That so? How is it, then?"

"Well," he said weakly, "I tried to write to you, I really did — must have started a dozen
letters. But… I kept losing my nerve, I guess."

Lily snorted. "Some Gryffindor you are. So you decided it was better to surprise me on the
train? And in front of all the prefects, no less. God knows they barely respect me already, and
now…" She ran out of air and had to remind herself to breathe. "Why didn't you just tell
me?"

"Er. I dunno."

"I don't believe that for an instant. You chose not to write to me. Didn't you?"

James cast a longing look over Lily's shoulder, towards the door, as if wishing he could bolt
through it. "Yeah, I guess. You really want the truth?"

"Of course I do."

"Of course you do," he repeated weakly. "Alright, then. Erm. I suppose I didn't write
because… well, because I thought you'd react, er. Like this."

Like a candle being snuffed, Lily's anger vanished. She felt drained and a little embarrassed.
"Oh."

James regarded her with apprehension, as though she were a bomb about to explode. "Don't
get me wrong — I'd hoped you'd be happy to hear that we'd be, erm, working together this
year. But I also knew you'd probably get upset."

"James. I'm not angry that you're Head Boy."

"You're sure about that? You nearly blew the windows out of the prefect's carriage…"

"I'm angry that you didn't tell me. I hate being lied to —"

"— I would never lie to you —"

"You were dishonest and you know it. You kept this from me on purpose. If I'd gotten a letter
from you over the summer, I would have been…" Thrilled. Why was that the first word that
came to her mind? "I would have been happy for you. Really."

"Rubbish. You would've sent me a Howler!"

"I would not have done." If only because the post office in Cokeworth didn't sell those. "If
you'd written to me about it, I would've been… surprised, honestly. But after the initial shock,
I think I would've been glad to have you as Head Boy."

He clearly didn't believe her. "You don't look very glad right now."

"That's because I'm peeved at you. Springing it on me like you did — on the train, at the last
minute — that puts us in a bit of a bind, doesn't it?"

"How do you mean?"

Boys. Were they always this clueless? "Remember our deal over the summer?"

"The one where we agreed to piss Snape off by pretending to date? Of course. What about
it?"

"Well, I'd thought it would be an occasional thing! You know, we'd sit together at dinner,
you'd carry my books for me from time to time, I'd make a rare appearance at your post-
Quidditch parties…"

"A rare appearance? You always come to my parties, you love them. Everyone does."

"I do not. And even if I did, that's beside the point. Do you see what I'm saying?"

James' thick eyebrows drew together. "Er. No?"

"Oh, my God," said Lily. She really did have to spell everything out for him. "Being Heads
together means we'll have to pretend that we're dating more often. As in, all the time.
Because we're going to be seeing an awful lot of each other from now on."

James shrugged. "That's fine by me."

Lily scrutinised his face, which was difficult to do in the dimly lit toilet. He really didn't look
bothered by the idea. She, on the other hand, didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Spending
more time with James Potter would be terrible, obviously. But if that was the case, then why
did she feel excited about it?

"If you truly don't mind…"

"I don't," said James. "This might work in our favour, actually. People will probably think it's
cute that the Head Boy and Girl are dating. Makes us seem more credible."

"Right," she said, nonplussed. "Well, if you really don't mind, then I suppose it's fine. I'm, er,
sorry for losing my temper." She was suddenly grateful for the dim light. Her cheeks felt like
they were on fire, but hopefully he couldn't tell. "It was just… unexpected. And then I
realised we'd have to pretend all the time, in front of everyone, even Professor McGonagall. I
got a little… overwhelmed, I guess."

"That's understandable," said James. "I'm sorry for making you think it would be Remus.
You're right that I shouldn't have kept this from you. I don't blame you for… going off a bit."

He sounded completely sincere. Lily resisted the temptation to stare at him, lest he
misinterpret it as interest. Who was this person in front of her, who freely admitted to wrong-
doing? It certainly couldn't be James Potter. He was an arrogant prat who couldn't self-reflect
if his life depended on it.

Wasn't he?

"Well, I'm feeling a bit calmer now," she said, smoothing her robes. "Shall we go back to the
prefect's carriage?"

"Sure," said James. "Want me to hold your hand on the way in?"

Lily thought her eyes might pop out of her head. "No — that isn't — just because we're going
to pretend, that doesn't mean we need to start now —"

James laughed. "Relax, Lily. I'm only joking."

"Ha-ha," she managed, though her voice sounded strangled.

James leaned around her to unlock the door of the toilet. "I'm quite looking forward to being
Head Boy, actually. Let's make the fifth-year prefects do all the patrolling while we sit back
and eat sweets off the trolley. What say you?"

Lily followed him out of the toilet, feeling slightly dizzy. James Potter was Head Boy. And
he'd agreed without hesitation that they continue to pretend to date. Their plan wasn't a big
deal to him, likely because he no longer had any feelings for her.

She wished she could be as nonchalant about it. But judging by the way her heart beat like a
drum whenever he was close… whenever his eyes met hers…

God. She fancied James Potter, didn't she?

As soon as she'd had the horrible notion, she knew it was true. It would have been funny if it
weren't so awful.

I'm pretending to fancy a bloke I actually fancy, she thought. And to make matters worse, that
bloke was James Potter. The James Potter, the boy who had pulled her hair when they were
eleven and pinched her bra strap when they were twelve. She'd rather lust after the Giant
Squid. And why did she only fancy James after he'd outgrown his childhood crush on her?

Brilliant timing, Lily, she thought. Well done, honestly.

Remus hated to admit it, but James was likely going to be a very good Head Boy.

He'd been concerned after Lily had whisked James away on the Hogwarts Express,
presumably either to row with him or snog him senseless, neither of which boded well. But
his worry had been misplaced; James and Lily had returned not ten minutes later and had
given the prefects a rousing speech.

It was odd to see them working together. Odder still was the fact that James had actually done
well, without any prodding from Lily. Remus had never thought he'd hear the words 'duty to
Hogwarts' and 'grand responsibility' leave James' mouth, yet he'd said all that and more. And
the other prefects had listened. Hung on to James' every word, in fact.

Though watching them had stung a bit, overall Remus felt better about not being Head Boy.
He'd had nearly two months to come to terms with it, and the truth of the matter was that he
made a better follower than leader. He couldn't have pulled a speech out of his arse the way
James had done, and even if he had, the prefects wouldn't have listened nearly as attentively;
he didn't have the same charisma as James.

It was hard to feel bitter, anyway, as the Hogwarts Express wound its familiar route through
the Scottish Highlands. Even though his bones ached — the full moon was two nights ago,
and it still hurt to move — Remus was content. More than content: he was happy. He was
returning to the place he loved the most. The place he and his friends knew better than
anyone else, where every nook and cranny held a joyful memory. Remus was not, generally
speaking, a happy person, but he was happy at Hogwarts.

I'm returning for the last time, he thought, because of course his brain would spoil the mood.
It's the last year. It'll all be over after this.

He shook his head a little, willing the gloomy thoughts away. The train swayed gently
beneath his aching feet, grounding him. He was happy. He was returning home.

At the Welcoming Feast, he sat beside Sirius at the Gryffindor table. Sirius, of course, wasted
no time in regaling the other Gryffindors with exaggerated tales of his exploits over the
summer, a drumstick in one hand and bits of potato spewing out of his mouth. If half of his
stories were true, Remus didn't believe it.

"And that," said Sirius grandly, "was the moment I landed in the poor girl's lap. Well, I say
girl — she was part Veela, turns out. Half-Veela, at least, because —"

"Manners, Padfoot," said Remus as a bit of potato landed on his plate.

Sirius winked at him, then continued with his tale. Remus was only half-listening; he was
fairly certain he'd heard this story before, and it ended with —

"That's when I felt something burning, so I looked down, right. And what would you know
—"
"Was it the clap?" asked Peter. Remus snorted.

"It most certainly was not the clap," said Sirius. "The bird set my pants on fire!"

"Not your Puddlemere United boxers, I hope," said Peter.

"As a matter of fact…" said Sirius.

James, who was sandwiched between Sirius and Lily, interjected. "It better not have been
your Puddlemere United boxers! I had to special order those!"

"Sorry, mate," said Sirius. "It was a necessary sacrifice."

"That's the last time I get you a Christmas gift, you wanker," said James. "Five points from
Gryffindor."

"The term hasn't even started yet, you can't take points —"

"Make that six." James stretched his arms behind his head and winked at Lily. "I think I love
being Head Boy."

"And I think you're drunk on power," she replied. James laughed, but instead of looking
gratified, a peculiar expression crossed Lily's face. She looked strangely sad.

That was odd. Why would she be upset that she had made James laugh? Remus hoped they
weren't having relationship problems already.

The table erupted in guffaws; Sirius had apparently reached the punch line of his story. James
put his hands around Lily's shoulders, whispering something in her ear, and she smiled a
little.

That was promising, at least. Maybe Remus had been wrong about Lily and James having
problems.

Remus John Lupin, you nosy bastard, he thought. Stop being suspicious of your friends'
happiness. Things are allowed to be good, you know.

That reminded him — what was it that Sirius had said over the summer? Something about
Dumbledore having big plans for Remus. The thought had been laughable at the time, but
now... he let himself hope it was true. He was back at Hogwarts, eating exquisite food while
surrounded by friends who he loved. Why shouldn't he be hopeful?

Peter nudged him. "Yes?" said Remus, trying to sound as if he hadn't been lost in his own
mind again.

"Who's that sitting beside Professor Kettleburn?" asked Peter.

Remus followed his gaze. At the staff table, Professor Kettleburn had one arm in a sling —
what had the poor man done now? — and was using his good arm to saw through a slab of
steak. Next to him was —
Remus gulped.

Next to Professor Kettleburn was a stunningly attractive man who Remus could only assume
was their newest Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He appeared to be in his early
thirties, with long auburn hair gathered in a low ponytail and pale, freckled skin. He wore a
stylish, dark purple tunic beneath his robes, and a matching violet scarf encircled his neck.

As though he sensed Remus watching him, the man's eyes flicked towards the Gryffindor
table. Even at this distance, his irises were a piercing blue.

Remus ducked his head, avoiding the man's gaze. "I expect that's our Defence professor, isn't
it?" he said to Peter.

"Who's our new Defence professor?" asked James, and Remus tilted his chin towards the
staff table.

"I don't believe it," said Sirius, ogling the man from afar. "That bloke? He looks like he
belongs on the cover of Witch Weekly. No way he's qualified to teach Defence."

"Maybe he's part Veela," said Peter. "You've got experience with that, Padfoot, can you
tell…?"

Lily snorted. "Men can't be Veela, Peter. And you lot had better stop staring before he decides
to take points."

"If he does, I'll give us points back later, so don't worry," said James, and she swatted him on
the arm.

"You do think he's attractive, don't you, Wondergirl?" said Sirius. "If even I want to shag him,
then surely you…"

Lily's flushed. "I am not having this conversation with you."

"I don't think he's attractive," called Marlene from further down the table.

"You might be the only one," said Sirius. He cast another look at the staff table, shaking his
head bemusedly. "Poor bloke. Should've never taken the job."

"Why's that?" asked James.

"Every girl older than thirteen is going to fall in love with him, won't they?" said Sirius. "It's
his first teaching job, if I had to guess. He must be naive, didn't realise that hormones run
rampant in this castle… Bet he won't last till December."

"He isn't that good-looking," objected Peter.

"Yeah," said James. He scrunched up his face as he scrutinised the new professor. "I mean, if
I squint, I can sort of see it, but…"
"Don't underestimate the power of teenage girls," Lily warned. "Remember Professor
Cresswell, in our fourth year? We were all in love with him, even Marlene. And he was
nowhere near as good-looking as this one is."

"Us handsome wizards have a rough go of it," said Sirius with a sigh. "There's so few of us,
you know…"

"Oh, piss off," said James.

Remus spooned a second helping of potatoes onto his plate, saying nothing. Defence had
always been his favourite subject, despite the revolving roster of teachers. Most previous
Defence professors had never realised he had an affinity for the subject, though that may
have been due to their own lack of expertise. This professor would likely be no different.
That was fine by him, as he preferred to stay under the radar. It was safer that way.

All the same, Remus found himself quite looking forward to their first Defence lesson.

At the Slytherin table on the other end of the Great Hall, Severus Snape had lost his appetite.

He had been certain that Lily Evans and James Potter would break up over the summer
holidays. It was why he hadn't come to her hearing before the Wizengamot, even though he
had been summoned. He'd hoped she would be grateful that he didn't show up, that she'd be
thinking about him… that after she dropped Potter like the loser he was, she'd turn to him for
comfort. He'd wanted to believe that their relationship was a fling, that after a couple of bad
dates — of course the dates would be bad, it was Potter, after all — Lily would come to her
senses and return to Severus, who would be waiting with open arms.

Obviously, that hadn't happened. Severus had been forced to consider the possibility that Lily
wanted nothing to do with him. Perhaps their relationship really had been broken for good.

That realisation had been painful, yet it was mild compared to the current agony that faced
him. Lily and James were still together after an entire summer. And to make matters worse,
they looked happy.

They certainly weren't being subtle about things, either. Severus could see them, all the way
at the other end of the Great Hall, bantering with each other. He could tell by the twist of
Lily's mouth that she'd just said something witty; James had the nerve to put one hand on her
back, the other covering his eyes as he laughed.

Severus gritted his teeth. Even at this distance, it was easy to see the candlelight reflecting off
the badge on James' chest. Dumbledore had made him Head Boy, to nobody's surprise: the
old fool had always treated Gryffindor house with blatant favouritism. It was more shocking
that the Headmaster hadn't yet erected a statue of James in the Entrance Hall for finding Sally
Dearborn.
The badge on James' chest glittered as he gesticulated; it was hypnotising, like watching the
swing of a pendulum. Severus forced himself to avert his gaze and took a dour bite of mushy
peas. If this was the start of his seventh year at Hogwarts, he hated to think how the rest of it
would go.

Someone slid into the seat across from him, blocking James and Lily from sight. "Hello,
Severus," said Regulus Black. "Enjoying the view?"

Severus took his time swallowing before he responded. "Not anymore."

"You're welcome." Regulus plucked a roll from the bread basket and began to nibble on it.

Severus watched him suspiciously. He and Regulus hadn't exactly been on good terms the
last time they'd spoken. Severus had still been upset that Regulus had hidden Sally Dearborn
and kept it a secret from him. 'Upset' was putting it mildly, perhaps; he may or may not have
attempted to curse Regulus. Several times, in fact. Yet here Regulus was, picking at a bread
roll, apparently totally at ease.

"Yes?" asked Regulus after a moment. "You're staring."

"Apologies," muttered Severus, and though he wasn't hungry, he took another bite of mushy
peas. "Did you have a purpose in sitting here, or…?"

"Oh, yes, actually," said Regulus. "Bella wanted me to pass on a message."

Severus' heartbeat quickened. "Which is…?"

"She doesn't want us to bother her. Well, she worded it a bit more strongly than that, but that
was the gist of it. She'll be out of the country on business for a while, apparently, and will
murder us if she's called back to 'clean up more of our messes.'" He made air quotes with his
fingers.

Out of the country? Perhaps the Dark Lord had more ambition than Severus had realised.
"Well, staying out of her hair will be easy enough," he said. "Seeing as there is no 'us.'"

"Really?" said Regulus. "That's a shame. She was going to have you lead the Followers this
year, but if you're not keen…"

Severus extinguished the spark of excitement that threatened to lift his mood. "Don't be cute,
Regulus. What Followers?" He gestured at the rest of the Slytherin table. "In case you haven't
noticed, there's only me and you. Mulciber's been expelled, and the rest have graduated."

"What about Edmund?"

Severus glanced down the table, where Edmund Avery was arranging the steamed vegetables
on his plate to form a smiling face. "Edmund Avery's brain has been scrambled."

"You scrambled it." If it had been anyone else, Regulus' tone would have sounded accusing.
Severus closed his eyes briefly. He might be irredeemable, but he still had some sense of
shame. "What happened to Avery was… not my intention."

"He's your responsibility. And I'm your responsibility, too."

"Is that so?"

"You recruited me," said Regulus simply. "And you broke Avery's mind. Now we need a
mentor — and who better than you?"

Severus didn't like how Regulus was twisting the job of mentoring the Followers. He made it
sound like it was a debt Severus ought to pay, instead of a reward Severus had earned. "And
if I refuse?"

"You won't. You've always wanted to be our mentor. Haven't you?" A corner of Regulus'
mouth lifted. Severus loathed when he smiled like that; it made him look too confident. Too
much like his brother.

"I'll consider it," said Severus. "Why don't the three of us meet in Dungeon Thirteen tonight?
Midnight. We'll talk it over then."

Regulus finished the last of his roll, then brushed the crumbs from his fingers. "Fine by me.
I'll speak to Edmund about it."

After the Welcome Feast, Severus went directly to Dungeon Thirteen without stopping to
deposit his belongings in the Slytherin dormitory. The room was dark and cold, with an air of
neglect; there were five empty phials on the table, and several chairs lay at angles on the
floor. He suspected nobody had entered the room since the previous year, on the disastrous
night when Sally had been discovered.

Severus Vanished the phials and straightened the chairs, then sat on the pristine, white couch
by the hearth, his chin in his hands. He raised his wand and lit an emerald fire, casting the
room in greenish light.

The flames were surprisingly cold. He watched the fire dance in the hearth a while,
wondering if Bella would step through. But nobody emerged from the emerald flames, and
eventually Severus was forced to admit that perhaps Regulus knew what he was talking
about.

This was perhaps his hollowest victory yet. For so long he'd dreamed of leading the
Followers, of proving his worth. He'd thought it would secure his position among the Dark
Lord's ranks after Hogwarts. But now? Did it even matter? According to Regulus, Bella
didn't give a damn what Severus did or didn't do, so long as he didn't bother her about it.

As he peered into the fire, a thought occurred to him. Perhaps there was a bright side to the
situation. If Bella wanted them to leave her alone… perhaps that meant their future as
Followers was already set in stone. Perhaps the Dark Lord was planning to Mark them upon
graduation from Hogwarts, and nothing they did this year could alter that. Barring any
obvious blunders, of course.
The more Severus thought about it, the more certain he became. The Dark Lord was going to
Mark them. They didn't need to prove their worth any further.

The notion was surprisingly freeing.

Regulus and Avery joined him several hours later. Regulus gave Severus an ironic little bow,
then took a seat in the armchair opposite Severus. Avery copied Regulus' bow, giggling.

Severus nodded at Avery. "Edmund. How was your summer?"

"Brilliant," said Avery, bouncing on the sofa. "My mum bought me a cat, but then it died, so
she got me an owl, but then it died. Then she got me a Grindylow, and that one hasn't died
yet. Couldn't bring it to Hogwarts, though," he added with a pout.

"Shame," said Severus, who shuddered at the thought of Avery keeping a pet Grindylow in
their dormitory. "Well, now that you're here, I'll get straight to business."

"Are we killing anyone this year?" asked Avery excitedly.

"I'm afraid not," said Severus. Avery stuck out his bottom lip, disappointed.

"It's really for the best, Edmund," said Regulus. "We weren't very good at the whole
murdering business, anyway."

"Lamentably," said Severus. "We'll be employing a different strategy this year."

"Torturing?" guessed Avery.

"Not quite," said Severus. "The strategy of which I speak is called prudence."

Avery cocked his head, clearly unfamiliar with the word. "Prudence?"

"It means we keep our head down," said Severus. "The Dark Lord plans to Mark us once we
graduate Hogwarts. In the meantime, we need only to refrain from drawing his ire."

Avery was visibly struggling to keep up. "So no killing."

"Or torturing," said Regulus.

Avery stuck out his tongue. "Sounds boring."

"Boring is good," responded Severus.

Regulus cocked his head. "Out of curiosity, Sev. There are a few Slytherins in my year
who've heard about… our little group. They're interested in becoming Followers. Would you
consider…?"

"No," said Severus. "No more Followers. They'll be eager to prove themselves, which will
only complicate things. Unlike Mulciber, I'm hoping to actually complete my education at
Hogwarts."
 Regulus looked relieved. "That's… good. Alright."

"We'll stick together, of course," said Severus. "We ought to meet at least once a week to
check in with one another. I might be able to come up with some… bonding activities… that
won't get us expelled if we're discovered."

The emerald fire cast shadows in the hollows of Regulus' cheeks as he smiled. "And here I
thought I was the sensible one. When did you become so dull?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I escaped expulsion by the skin of my teeth last year — no thanks to
you, might I add. Let's try not to repeat the experience."

Chapter End Notes

Any guesses who this new Defence professor might be? :)

Also, fun fact: 5,000 pounds in 1978 is 29,000 pounds today, or 41,000 dollars. Can you
say Lily is screwed??
 Professor Prewett
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Once the Welcome Feast ended, Lily's nerves finally began to settle. She'd eaten with James
and his mates, and it had gone more smoothly than she had expected. James might have been
a terrible liar, but his acting skills were passable, at least. As long as nobody asked him
directly whether or not they were dating, they might actually pull this off. And their
performance during dinner had been a success: Severus had stared at them, but he'd slunk off
to the dungeons immediately after the plates Vanished from the tables.

Mission accomplished, thought Lily. Hopefully their little charade would keep Severus away.

At the entrance to the Great Hall, James was directing the flow of students, sending the
newly-Sorted first years to the proper common room. Lily couldn't believe how effortlessly
he'd adopted the role of Head Boy; so far, he was actually doing a decent job. More than
decent, in fact. He guided the first years with a calm sort of confidence, and the students were
listening to him.

As though he could sense that she was thinking about him, James looked her way, grinning.
"Feel like lending a hand, Lily? Or were you just planning on watching?"

She shrugged and positioned herself on the opposite side of the door. "I didn't think you
needed my help. You seem to have the situation under control."

"The first years are cute, aren't they?" he said. "Utterly clueless, though… I swear I was
nothing like this when I was ten."

"You were even worse."

"I was not!" protested James. He grabbed a first-year student by the shoulders and spun him
in an about-face. "Hufflepuff common room's that way, there's a good lad…"

"You were worse. You wouldn't wait for the prefects to show us to Gryffindor tower,
remember? You insisted you already knew where it was and went dashing up the stairs…"

James' smile grew sheepish. "I'd forgotten about that."

Lily pointed a pair of tiny, curly-haired girls towards the dungeons. "I remember Professor
McGonagall dragged you into the common room by the arm. She even took points, didn't
she?"

"Yeah, two, I think," he said with a laugh. "I'm lucky she didn't give me detention, honestly."

"That must have been some kind of record. Two points from Gryffindor, and you hadn't even
been Sorted an hour."
"I've made up for it, though, haven't I?" James nodded towards his badge.

He was fishing for compliments, but she wasn't going to hand them out so easily. "We'll see."

Once the last of the first years had slipped out of the Great Hall, Lily and James began the
long climb to Gryffindor tower, bantering all the while.

"Did you notice Snape during the feast?" he asked once they had reached the seventh-floor
landing.

"Yeah," she said, panting. Talking to James made her a tad breathless, and the many flights of
stairs weren't helping. "He left early. I think you scared him off."

"Was I a convincing fake boyfriend, then?"

The word 'fake' shouldn't have stung as much as it did. "I thought so," said Lily, trying to
sound unruffled. "You paid a decent amount of attention to me —"

"Decent? We talked practically the entire dinner —"

"You definitely spoke to Sirius more. I prefer my boyfriends to focus their attention
exclusively on me." The lilt in her voice made it clear she was joking, and James laughed.

"Fine. I'll smother you with affection next time. We'll see how well you can eat when I won't
let go of your hand. Might hold both your hands, actually, to prove my undying devotion —"

Her heart stuttered, like a car slamming its brakes. "I thought we agreed to no hand-holding?"

"Did we? I don't think we talked about it."

He was right. Damn it. "Let's keep the physical affection to a minimum," she said as they
approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Making appearances together should keep Severus
convinced about our relationship. No need to… complicate things by holding hands, or
hugging, or what-have-you."

"Isn't that an important part of a relationship, though?"

Like you're such an expert, she wanted to retort. Why couldn't he just agree that they
shouldn't touch each other more than absolutely necessary? If he didn't think feigning
physical affection was a big deal, he must not have any feelings for her at all. The thought
was… depressing.

Best not to let on that she felt that way, though. "We're not actually dating, James," she said
primly. "We don't have to do everything that real couples do." She turned to the Fat Lady and
tried very hard to act like she didn't care that the portrait had just overhead their humiliating
conversation. "Er, the password…"

"Bumbershoot," supplied James, and the portrait swung open.

Although curfew wasn't for another hour, the common room was nearly empty, as most
students were still unpacking their things. "Well — good night, Lily," said James. He nodded
at her, then vanished up the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories.

She watched him go, biting her lip. I'm in so much trouble, she thought. Unrequited love was
a feature of the Muggle novels she devoured, but she'd never imagined it would feel like this.
Like embarrassment and excitement and longing all rolled up into one.

At least she didn't have to hide her feelings for James from her friends. Marlene already
believed they were dating and had surely broken the news to Mary and Parvana by now. The
girls were likely in the dormitory, waiting for her to arrive so they could debrief about exactly
how it had happened.

"You won't believe this," said Lily, pushing open the door to their dormitory. As she'd
suspected, Marlene and Mary were laying side-by-side on Marlene's bed, while Parvana was
carefully unpacking her Quidditch robes. "Just finished herding the first-years with James
Potter, and he actually did a decent job. If I didn't know better, I'd —"

She broke off, staring.

"Something the matter?" asked Marlene, rolling onto her stomach.

"Er." Lily looked about the dormitory. "Where's my bed?"

Mary sat up. "Odd, isn't it? We were wondering the same thing at first."

Lily's palms began to sweat. There wasn't even an empty space where her bed should have
been; the three beds in the dormitory were equally distant from one another, leaving no room
for a fourth. Had she been expelled after all, and just hadn't gotten the notice? But no —
surely someone would have told her if that was the case. So what was going on?

"Merlin's beard, Lils," said Marlene. "You look like someone just died."

"I —" Lily spluttered. "My bed —"

"…Is in your private room," finished Marlene smugly.

She must have misheard. "My what?"

"You're so lucky," sighed Mary.

Parvana turned, placing her neatly folded Quidditch robes atop her bed. "Professor
McGonagall came by to tell you about it, but you hadn't gotten back yet. It's exciting, isn't
it?"

"I wish I was Head Girl," moaned Marlene. "If I'd known a private room was part of the
bargain…"

So she hadn't been expelled? "You're serious," said Lily slowly.

"'Course we are," said Marlene.

Beside her, Mary bounced up and down with excitement. "Can we see your room? After you
unpack, of course. I'm so curious…"

"Erm, yeah, sure," said Lily dazedly. "You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you?"

"Professor McGonagall said you're to stay in the room they made for Sally Dearborn after
you found her last year," said Marlene. "The one at the top of the stairs?"

"Oh, right," said Lily. A part of her still suspected that this was some sort of elaborate prank.
"Well, I guess I'll go… get settled in, then."

She closed the door to the dormitory, then continued up the winding staircase. At the very top
of the stairs was a plain-looking wooden door, affixed with a plaque that read 'Head Girl'.

Not a prank, then. Lily took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The quarters were surprisingly roomy. There was a sitting area with a hearth, a squashy-
looking sofa, and two armchairs — did Dumbledore expect her to have company? — and a
table in the corner that was large enough for four people to comfortably fit. Even more
strangely, the suite had three additional doors apart from the one she had entered from: one
on either side of the hearth, and one on the far wall opposite where she had entered. Was it
possible this place had a kitchen and a study, too?

Well, perhaps it wasn't so odd. After being trapped in a painting for a year, Sally Dearborn
had probably wanted enough space to stretch her legs.

Lily cautiously pushed open the door to the left of the hearth. Inside was a spacious bedroom
that was easily larger than the seventh year girls' dormitory, with a luscious four-poster bed
covered in scarlet sheets and enough pillows for her to get lost in. Not only that: there was
another fireplace, and a small desk by the window that looked perfect for studying. And was
that cinnamon she smelled? Yes — there, on the bedside table, was a plate of biscuits. She
had no doubt that they were still warm.

This is incredibly generous, thought Lily. Sally Dearborn had certainly deserved all these
comforts and more after her ordeal. But Lily? She would have been content to sleep in the
seventh year girls' dormitory, same as ever.

"Mad, isn't it?"

Lily nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned around; James Potter was standing in the
common area. The door on the far wall swung shut behind him, but not before she caught a
glimpse of the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories. So the Head Girl's private quarters
sat at the top of both the boys' and girls' dormitories? Strange.

"Don't do that to me," said Lily, massaging her heart. "What are you doing here?"

"Er," said James. "I'm supposed to sleep here now, I guess."

"You what?"

"Yeah," said James, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Guess this is a new thing
Dumbledore's trying. Having a Heads' dormitory, I mean."

No. There had to be some kind of mistake. "You're joking," said Lily. "This is the Head Girl's
dormitory. It said so on the door."

"Are you sure about that?" James pulled open the door he had just entered from and gestured
to a plaque that read 'Head Boy'.

She gawked at the plaque, as though its lettering might change if she stared long enough.
"Oh, my God."

James shrugged, then closed the door and sat at the table in the common area. "Fancy a game
of Exploding Snap?"

"You — I — we can't share a dormitory!"

"Well, we've got our own rooms, said James. "We only have to share the common space,
technically." He jerked a thumb at the door to the right of the hearth. "That's my bedroom, by
the way."

The sofa cushions sank several inches under Lily's weight as she sat and put her head in her
hands. "What was Dumbledore thinking?"

"It is a bit mad," agreed James. "Maybe he thought it'd be a shame to let the place go to waste
after Sally left."

"There are hundreds of unused rooms in Hogwarts. I'm sure one more wouldn't have made a
difference."

"Fair point." James pulled out a deck of cards and began to shuffle. "Honestly, though, having
a dormitory for the Head Boy and Girl is a good idea."

Lily's voice was muffled between her hands. "And why's that?"

"Well, being Head is a bore. Who in their right mind would want to spend their free time
supervising prefects? But this — having your own quarters — gives being Head a bit of an
incentive, doesn't it? I'm surprised nobody thought of it sooner."

She couldn't believe he was being so obtuse about this. "Giving a boy and girl their own
private space is a supremely bad idea."

He laid a few cards on the table. "How's that?"

Did he really not know? Surely he wasn't that clueless. "Because — oh, think about it,
James!"
He frowned at the cards in front of him. "Do you think the other students would get jealous?
Because I say tough luck, if they wanted the position they should've worked a little harder
—"

"No — I — that's not it at all!"

"Then what?"

She couldn't believe she had to spell this out for him. "Because of the sorts of things
teenagers get up to, James! Leaving two people of the opposite sex alone, unsupervised, is a
recipe for all kinds of trouble, and I cannot believe Professor McGonagall didn't put a stop to
this once she heard what Dumbledore was planning!"

"Oh." James sounded far too blasé for her liking. "I see what you mean. Well, that won't be a
problem for us, will it?"

Unfortunately. "I hope not."

"It's lucky, actually, that we're pretending to date," he said, sounding pleased. "We've already
laid out ground rules about not touching one another. So there's no danger we'll cross a line."

"That's true," said Lily begrudgingly. God. He really was over her, wasn't he?

James was clearly finished with the conversation. "Exploding Snap?" he offered, gesturing at
the cards.

"No, thanks," she gritted out. "I'm tired. I'm going to unpack and go to bed."

"Oh, alright," said James. "In that case, would you mind if the Marauders came up? They
wanted to see the Heads' dormitory, and I told them…"

She didn't even have it in her to make fun of that nickname. "Be my guest," she said, and she
fled to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

As she unpacked, she began to reconsider her estimation of Dumbledore. Maybe his
detractors were right — surely this was a scheme only an evil wizard could cook up. It was
bad enough that James was Head Boy. Now they had to share a dormitory, too?

Because that was what it boiled down to: she was sharing a dormitory with the same arrogant
bastard she couldn't get enough of.

Lily was glad for the plethora of pillows on her bed, because if she screamed into one,
nobody would hear her.

She was in trouble. So. Much. Trouble.

"Excellent," said Sirius the following morning, looking at the timetable that Professor
McGonagall had just handed him. "We've got Defence Against the Dark Arts right after
breakfast. Can't wait to see what that fit bloke has in store for us."

"I think he's going to be a good one." James glanced towards the staff table at the other end of
the Great Hall. "He's got that look about him. Like he knows things."

"You said the same thing about Professor Grimblehawk last year, and look at how that turned
out," said Remus. Sirius' excitement was contagious, but Remus was trying very hard not to
get his hopes up about this new professor. The man might appear competent, but looks meant
nothing when it came to Defence professors. He'd learned that much over the last seven
years.

"Professor Grimblehawk did a fine job!" said James.

"She should never have been hired in the first place," said Remus, turning a page of the Daily
Prophet. Professor Grimblehawk had been staggeringly absent-minded, and had left the top
off the terrarium housing the Flesh-Eating Slugs they had been studying. They'd had to teach
themselves for the remainder of the school year.

"This bloke's going to do a better job," said James confidently.

"I'm not holding my breath," said Remus.

After breakfast, they traipsed to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom on the first
floor. Sirius and James took their usual positions at the back of the room, while Remus sat at
the front, next to Peter. He would have preferred to be somewhere in the middle of the room
— easier to escape the teacher's notice that way — but Peter always insisted on sitting close
to the blackboard, and Remus generally humoured him.

He opened his copy of Advanced Defensive Theory and flipped through it while he waited for
the new professor to arrive. But at five minutes past the hour, there was no sign of him.

Next to Remus, Peter was chewing on a quill. "The new professor couldn't have been
mortally injured already, could he?"

"Maybe there were a few Flesh-Eating Slugs still hanging around the Defence office," said
Sirius loudly, and a handful of students tittered.

"Hope he wards them off better than Grimblehawk did," said James. "Something tells me he'd
hate to lose his —"

"My what, now?"

The new professor shut the door behind him and looked at James with some interest.

"Er, nothing, sir." James bit back a grin.

"Pity," said the professor. "I was hoping to hear the punchline of that one." He bounded to the
front of the room, adjusting the violet scarf that was draped jauntily around his neck. "I
suppose introductions are in order, then. I'm Professor Fabian Prewett, your newest Defence
Against the Dark Arts professor. And you're my seventh-year N.E.W.T. students, is that
right?"

Several people nodded.

"Why don't we all stand up?" said Professor Prewett. "Yes, excellent… you can put that book
away," he added, nodding towards Remus. "We won't be needing it today."

Remus blinked, not used to professors addressing him directly. He shoved his copy of
Advanced Defensive Theory into his bag.

As soon as everyone was on their feet, Professor Prewett waved his wand, and the tables and
chairs vanished from the room. Sirius, who had been leaning on his chair, stumbled a little.

"We'll need a little more space for what I've got in store today," said Professor Prewett, and
with another wave of his wand, the room expanded until it was twice its normal size. "That's
better. Wands out, everybody!"

The classroom broke into excited chatter; it had been nearly two years since they'd last done
wandwork in Defence. Peter turned eagerly to Remus. "What d'you think we'll be doing?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," said Remus. "Nonverbal spells, maybe, since Professor
Grimblehawk never got around to that last year… or maybe he just wants to make sure we
can cast a decent Shield Charm."

"No Shield Charms!" said Professor Prewett, and Remus' shoulders hunched around his ears.
He'd been acknowledged again. That wasn't good.

"We'll be doing something different today," continued Professor Prewett, scribbling on the
board. "Something most of you haven't heard of, I believe."

At the back of the room, Sirius snorted, clearly sceptical.

"Don't believe me?" Professor Prewett turned; his icy blue eyes landed on Sirius. "It's Sirius
Black, isn't it?"

Sirius grunted.

"You sound awfully confident. Why don't you come here, give us a demonstration?"

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but James shoved him forward with a grin. With no other
choice, Sirius threw his shoulders back defiantly and joined Professor Prewett at the front of
the room.

"Alright," said Sirius. "What're we doing?"

"You tell me," said Professor Prewett lightly. "Seeing as you believe yourself to have already
mastered the curriculum for today…"
Sirius gave the professor a disparaging look, clearly about to argue, but Remus caught his eye
and shook his head a little. Don't do it, he thought. Just play along.

Sirius looked at Remus for a moment, considering. "Fine," he said at last, and he turned to the
blackboard, his jaw set. "Let's see what you've written here… ah. Today we're doing… the
Patronus Charm." He glanced at Professor Prewett, awaiting further direction.

The professor smiled broadly. "That we are. Go on, then, Black. Show us your best
Patronus."

"I…" Sirius turned towards Remus, silently pleading for help.

Remus had never heard of the Patronus Charm before. He gave a tiny shrug of his shoulders,
hoping Professor Prewett wouldn't notice.

Sirius sighed. "I don't know what a Patronus is. Sir."

"Is that so?" Professor Prewett's blue eyes gleamed. "I must say, I'm glad. It looks like I'll be
able to teach you something, after all. Off you go, Black." He gave Sirius a small push, and
Sirius stumbled towards the back of the room.

"Some help you are," Sirius muttered to Remus. Remus didn't reply; he didn't want to draw
the professor's attention for a third time.

"Allow me to demonstrate," continued Professor Prewett, and he arced his wand through the
air. "Expecto Patronum!"

A massive, winged creature burst from the tip of his wand. It nearly clipped Remus with its
sinuous, silvery wings, and Remus ducked; though the creature seemed to be made of mist,
there was something oddly substantial about it, and he didn't want to be concussed. It's an
enormous bat, he realised as the ethereal beast wheeled around the room. After they were all
sufficiently awed, it returned to Professor Prewett, who raised a hand. As he stroked the bat
on its ugly, upturned nose, the creature faded. Behind him, Remus heard a low whistle that
could only have come from Sirius.

Professor Prewett looked pleased. "The Patronus Charm is notoriously difficult," he said. "Do
not be ashamed if you struggle with it — there are plenty of adult wizards who are unable to
cast a Patronus. Those who succeed, however, find that it is the single most effective counter
to certain kinds of Dark magic. A corporeal Patronus can keep most Dark creatures at bay,
and it is the only known defence against Dementors and Lethifolds."

"Poor Dementors," Peter said to Remus out of the corner of his mouth. "I'd be scared, too, if a
gigantic bat attacked me."

"Ah," said Professor Prewett, who had apparently overheard. "That's the other trick to the
Patronus Charm: the form it takes is unique to its caster. No two people have the same
Patronus. Even identical twins have been known to cast wildly different forms."

"Oh, no," said Peter. He turned to Remus, crestfallen. "What're the chances mine is a rat?"
Professor Prewett rolled up his sleeves and tightened the purple scarf around his neck.
"Ready to give it a go? The casting is deceptively simple: One need only think of a happy
memory and say the words: Expecto Patronum!"

The room filled with chatter as the class tried their hand at the spell. "Expecto Patronum,"
said Remus, staring at his wand.

Nothing happened. That wasn't surprising; he hadn't even thought of a happy memory.

Luckily for him, he could easily remember the happiest moment of his life. He'd been in the
grotto by the Black Lake, watching James and Peter transform into Animagi for the first time.
The mere thought of it made his chest swell; he still could hardly believe they'd pulled off
such advanced magic for him. They were the reason he no longer had to be alone when —

Ah.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

"Nothing," said Remus. "Only —" He looked around, making sure the professor was out of
earshot. "I expect my Patronus will take the form of… you know."

"A werewolf?"

"Pete!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Peter cast a nervous glance towards Professor Prewett, who was coaching Lily
Evans and Marlene McKinnon. "That would be a bit on the nose, don't you think? I bet yours
is a dog."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "A dog?"

"Yeah. A brown, friendly dog, like my aunt has. Or maybe a bear. Not a scary bear, though —
a fluffy one that likes to laze about."

Remus smiled. "Not one for flattery, are you, Pete? I was hoping you'd say I'm a fierce Welsh
Green, or maybe a Manticore…"

"Bet you five Galleons yours is a bear," said Peter firmly. He shook his wand, as though that
would help the Patronus come out. "Expecto Patronum. Expecto — Expecto —"

By the end of the lesson, nobody was able to cast a full Patronus, though Lily had managed to
produce a swirling silver cloud. Remus hadn't had any luck at all. If he was being honest, he
was self-sabotaging a bit; there had been a moment where he had seen a wisp of silver mist
emerge from his wand, and he'd promptly panicked, causing the wisp to vanish. He was
terrified that he'd produce a Patronus in the form of a wolf, and everyone would learn his
secret.

No, not a wolf — wolves weren't suspicious. A werewolf.

"Great lesson, wasn't it?" asked James after the bell had rung and they were packing up their
things. "Think I saw a dragon come out of my wand at one point —"

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, and my Patronus was a unicorn."

"I swear! You were looking the other way, and then it went out the window —"

"I'm surprised you weren't able to cast one, Moony," said Sirius. "You're usually the first to
get the hang of spells like that."

"Oh, well," said Remus, rubbing the back of his neck. "This one escaped me a bit."

"We've got all term to practice," said Sirius. "He's offering fifty House points to anyone who
can produce a corporeal Patronus by the Christmas holidays… Shouldn't be too difficult,
once we get the hang of it."

"Remus Lupin?"

Remus looked up; Professor Prewett was leaning against the desk at the front of the room, his
legs crossed at the ankles.

"Yes?" said Remus cautiously.

"I was wondering if I could have a word."

Remus waved his friends on. Quiet settled over the classroom as the last of the seventh-year
students filed out. Professor Prewett was looking at him expectantly, but Remus didn't say a
word; he was comfortable with silence.

"I must say I'm surprised," said the professor after a moment.

"About what, sir?"

"Professor Dumbledore spoke highly of your aptitude in Defence. 'Remus is top of his class'
were his exact words, in fact. I would have expected you to be the first to grasp the Patronus
Charm."

"Oh," said Remus. "Well. It was more difficult than I expected it to be."

Professor Prewett eyed him shrewdly. "Is that so?"

Remus nodded, maintaining innocent eye contact with the professor. He was used to lying —
in fact, he was good at it — and though he didn't like to lie to teachers, sometimes it couldn't
be helped.

"I can give you some tips, if you like," said Professor Prewett.

"No, thank you," said Remus automatically. "I'm sure I'll be able to manage it with a bit more
practise. I appreciate the offer, though."
Professor Prewett shrugged and waved his wand at the blackboard, which began to erase
itself. "Suit yourself. But you wouldn't be the first to want to disguise your Patronus. I can
show you a way to do that, if you're so inclined…"

He met Remus' eyes, and a chill ran down Remus' spine. Professor Prewett knew.

"I'll be fine, thanks," he managed, and he fled the classroom, clutching his books to his chest.

Even when his knees began to ache, he didn't slow his pace until he was limping up the stairs
to the boys' dormitory. They had Transfiguration next, and Professor McGonagall would
surely be irate that he had missed the first lesson of the term, but he didn't care. He could tell
her that he'd been in the Hospital Wing — an easy lie, and one that wouldn't be questioned.
What he needed right now was to be alone, because he needed to think.

None of the previous Defence professors had known his secret. Only Dumbledore,
McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey were privy to that information. And Remus was very
careful to keep it that way. So how… and why…

Remus pushed open the door to the dormitory and froze. Sirius was leaning against the post
of Peter's bed, as though he had been waiting for him.

"What did Professor Prewett want?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Remus marched past him and dumped his books on his bed, which was the only one neatly
made. He turned to Sirius. "What are you doing here? We've got Transfiguration —"

Sirius pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket and waved it at Remus. "Saw you
heading to Gryffindor Tower and got curious."

Right. The Map.

Remus fought to keep his voice level. "You were spying on me."

Sirius was unrepentant. "I was concerned."

"Good instincts," said Remus, throwing his bag onto the bed with more force than was
strictly necessary. "you must have Seer blood in you, because to say I'm concerned after my
chat with Prewett is an understatement."

"Is that so?" Sirius cocked his head. "What happened?"

"He knows, Padfoot. About me."

"What? You're certain?"

"I was surprised, too. But there's no question about it."

"Did he come right out with it?" Sirius imitated Professor Prewett's West Country twinge.
"'By the way, Lupin, a little birdie told me you're a werewolf.' Like that?"
Remus sank onto his bed. "Not exactly. He hinted at it — strongly, mind you. Asked whether
I was afraid of the form my Patronus might take."

Sirius let out a low whistle. "Shit. I thought the other professors weren't supposed to know.
Only Dumbledore and McGonagall, isn't that what you told me?"

"And Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course. Pomfrey." Sirius' brow furrowed, like he was working on a particularly difficult
Arithmancy equation. "You don't reckon Dumbledore told Prewett, do you? Or
McGonagall?"

"Why would either of them do that?"

"Beats me." Sirius flung himself onto Remus' bed, narrowly missing Remus. "Well. If he
holds the fact that you're a werewolf over your head, we'll kill him."

Remus tried to sound reproachful. "Padfoot."

"I will, at least." Sirius rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. He prodded Remus
with his foot. "You know that, right? That I'll kill him if he tries to hurt you?"

Remus wished Sirius would stop touching him. It made him feel dizzy, like the full moon was
about to rise. "That… won't be necessary. He was trying to help me, I think."

"Rubbish. Threatening students with their darkest secret isn't helping." Sirius placed his long
legs across Remus' lap, one foot crossed atop the other.

That was more than a little distracting. "He… er," said Remus. "He said there are ways to
conceal a Patronus. Offered to teach me."

"Really? Huh." Sirius began to jiggle one of his legs atop Remus' thigh. "So he's offering you
private lessons?"

Remus couldn't focus on anything but the feel of Sirius' leg. He forced himself to breathe. "I
wouldn't say that."

"Might not be so sinister after all, then." Sirius looked mischievous. "I'll be jealous if you
take him up on the offer, you know."

"Why's that?"

"Don't play coy, Moony." Sirius' leg stopped jiggling. "If you start spending time with a
good-looking bloke like him, you'll forget all about me. I'm supposed to be the only
handsome pure-blood in your life, after all."

Remus pushed Sirius' thighs off his lap. "Padfoot. Don't."

"What? I'm only —"

"Joking? It isn't funny."

Sirius' grey eyes darkened as they fixed on him. "And if I wasn't joking?"

"I'm not — I'm not having this conversation with you." Remus stood up and began placing
his books into his bag.

Sirius didn't move. "We've got to have it sometime."

"No. We don't." Remus slung his bag across his shoulder and turned towards the door. "Come
on. We should catch the last bit of Transfiguration —"

Sirius sat up, quick as lightning. "I'd take you to Hogsmeade." His voice was low and urgent.
"I would. And if you go to private lessons, I'll be jealous. I —"

"For God's sake, Padfoot, drop it!" Remus whirled around, and a strong wind rushed through
the dormitory, rustling the canopies of the beds and scattering the papers on Peter's bedside
table. Remus forced himself to calm down, and the wind died away, swirling around the
bottom of his robes.

Sirius eyed him warily, but it was clear from the look on his face that he wasn't about to back
down. "Why not? And I want you to give me an actual reason, Moony. If you're not
interested in me, that's one thing, but I think you are. And I'm usually right, so —"

"Sirius. Stop it. Just stop."

Remus' tone of voice must have given Sirius pause, because he fell silent, though he
continued to work his jaw as if ready to argue.

Remus closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately.
Actually, that's not entirely true — I have a suspicion. But just because Dorcas Meadowes is
dating Marlene, that doesn't mean you need to find yourself a boyfriend just to prove that
you're — that you're equally as over her as she is over you."

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it. He did that twice more before saying, "That's what you
think this is about? Moony, Dorcas is… well, she's lovely, but I moved on, didn't I?"

"Did you? Because that's not how it looked over the summer."

"I — of course I am. After what I put her through with my family — I thought I'd never see
her again!"

"Don't deny it. You were hoping to rekindle something with her. Weren't you?"

"I…" Sirius spluttered. "Alright, the thought crossed my mind, but I'd be mad not to think it!
Not that it matters, seeing as Marlene got there first —"

Aha. Even though Remus had suspected as much, his stomach still dropped. "I thought so.
That would be provocative, wouldn't it? Sirius Black, dating a Muggle. Right up your alley.
But it didn't pan out — and then you got an idea for the next best thing. Not a Muggle this
time, but a bloke, and a werewolf at that. I ought to have seen it coming."

"That — that isn't how it happened at all!"

Remus was unmoved. "I'm only saying, Padfoot. If you want to date someone for shock
value, be my guest. But it won't be me."

"I wouldn't be — it's not for shock value…"

"I'm not going to be your little gay experiment." I would make you miserable. And you would
break my heart. Remus couldn't say the words out loud. But judging from the pained look on
Sirius' face, he could tell what Remus was thinking.

"I…" said Sirius, but he didn't seem to know what he wanted to say. "That's not. Not what I
— you'd never be…"

"That's what it boils down to, though. You know that I'm…" Remus took a breath. "That I
prefer men. And now you're curious. But it's not going to happen with me."

"Alright. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"You shouldn't have," agreed Remus. "There are plenty of other students who would love
your attention. Go play with them, Sirius. Not me."

"I — I'm not playing with you."

"Then stop flirting with me, will you?"

Sirius looked crestfallen. "Alright. I'm sorry."

Remus knew he had won, but the victory was hollow. They'd been talking around the subject
for years, and he'd hoped they'd never have to address it head-on. But of course Sirius could
never leave things unsaid.

He checked his watch. Their Transfiguration lesson had ended three minutes ago. "Looks like
we've missed Transfiguration," he said, trying to sound as if what they had just discussed was
of no great importance. "If we hurry, though, we can still make it on time for Herbology." He
cast a glance at Sirius. "Are you coming?"

After a moment's hesitation, Sirius nodded. "Yeah, alright." He scrambled off the bed,
adjusting his robes. "Sorry again, Moony. Really." He gave Remus a small, hopeful smile.
"We're good, yeah?"

No. My future is set in stone, and the weight of it would crush you. Loving you was the worst
idea I ever had. Remus shoved the thought into the depths of his mind, then held the door
open for Sirius. "We're good."
James loved being Head Boy.

Admittedly, it was only the second week of school, and he hadn't had to do many Head Boy
duties yet. But he loved the way the younger students stared him in the corridors, and he
loved that he could give and take House points (Sirius hated this, as James usually took
points from him for a laugh).

The best part, though, was the Heads' dormitory. His new bedroom was nearly big as his
room at home, and the common area was the perfect size for him and the Marauders to
sprawl out in the evenings. Before long, he took to leaving the door that led to the boy's
dormitories propped open, so that his mates could come and go as they pleased. Every
morning, the house-elves left a breakfast tray on the table in the common area, and when he
climbed into bed every evening, there was a hot water bottle beneath the blanket.

Sharing the space with Lily wasn't bad, either. If only his younger self could see him now,
living with the girl he'd spent his adolescence obsessing over. Twelve-year-old James would
have lost his mind. He was glad that he'd actually gotten to know her over the past few years;
that made it easy to see her as the fully-realised person she was, with all her talent and
humour and the occasional, still endearing, flaw. She was so different from the girl he'd
placed on a pedestal for years. The real Lily was better in every way than the girl he'd
invented in his mind, and he was determined not to ruin things with her.

That was why he would never cross a line with her again. She was lovely, of course, and she
always had been, but being her friend was enough. She'd rejected his advances far too often
for him to hope that they'd ever be anything more. He couldn't blame her for that; considering
the amount of grief he had given her over the years, it was astonishing that she even deigned
to speak to him.

All in all, things were going quite well. James had thought it might be strange, sharing a
dormitory with a girl, but Lily rarely spent time in the common area, preferring to stay in her
room. Even pretending to be her boyfriend was going well. He made a point of being seen
with her every other day, usually at mealtimes, and so far, his mere presence kept Severus at
bay.

On Wednesday morning of the following week, James emerged from his bedroom to see Lily
sitting at the table in the common area, having breakfast and reading the newspaper. That was
unusual; she always ate in the Great Hall.

"Good morning," she said, turning a page of the Daily Prophet.

"Morning," said James. "Mind if I join you?"

Lily took a bite of heavily-buttered toast. "Alright."

He sat across from her, feeling somewhat wary. It was the first time he'd seen her sitting in
the common area. If she realised that she was doing something unusual, she gave no sign of
it.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, helping himself to a crumpet.

She nodded and gestured to the crumpet he was eating. "These are quite good. I ought to have
tried them sooner."

"Better late than never," said James, pouring a cup of tea. "Anything interesting in the news?"

"Yes, actually. There's been a —"

"Hang on," he said. "Is it depressing? Because if it is, it'll have to wait. I want to at least
finish eating breakfast before I become properly depressed."

"It's not depressing," said Lily.

Remus had said the same thing last week, and had proceeded to read James an article about a
group of unnamed wizards who had died while on holiday in Europe. Though the newspaper
hadn't mentioned details, it had been easy enough to infer that they were Order members,
which had put Sirius in a mood.

"Alright." James prepared to be depressed. "Go on, then."

Lily laid the paper in front of him. "Have you heard of someone called Bartemius Crouch?"

"Oh, yeah," said James, skimming the page. "Head of the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement, isn't he?"

"Apparently," said Lily. "He was at my trial, too."

James' head snapped up. "He was?"

Lily nodded. "You should have heard the way he was interrogating me. He'd practically
convinced himself I was a Dark witch. I think he'd have been happy to send me to Azkaban."

"You're joking," said James, but Lily shook her head. "Merlin's balls. My father talks about
Crouch from time to time — makes him sound like a miserable prick, to be honest. But that's
absurd, even for him."

"If you think that's absurd…" said Lily, and she pointed to a section of the paper. "Take a
look at this."

CROUCH AUTHORISES USE OF UNFORGIVABLES, declared the headline. James read the
article aloud. "'Head of Magical Law Enforcement Bartemius Crouch has permitted the Auror
Department to use Unforgivable Curses when facing suspected followers of He-Who-Must-
Not-Be-Named. Per Crouch, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is adopting a
'curse first, ask questions later' approach. These measures will ensure the Ministry gains the
upper hand in the ongoing war between wizarding Britain and the forces of the Dark Lord…'
wow…" James shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pushed the Prophet back to
Lily. "That's insane."
"Isn't it?" she said. "I mean, it sounds nice, at first. Fewer Death Eaters in the world, and all
that. But suppose the Aurors murder the wrong person? It's extreme, isn't it?"

"Definitely," he said. "After reading this, I'm surprised Crouch didn't chuck you in Azkaban.
The madman wants to root out evil at all cost. Hopefully the Aurors have more sense than he
does, though… People might turn against the Ministry if their loved ones end up wrongfully
injured."

"Glad I won't have to face him again." Lily shuddered, then finished her cup of tea. "By the
way. We've got our first meeting with the prefects this afternoon, did you realise?"

He hadn't, but he wasn't about to admit that to her. "Oh, yeah, of course," he said, rummaging
in his bag for his timetable. "Been thinking about it for ages. Planning, you know." He
unfolded the slightly crumpled parchment. Sure enough, 'monthly prefect meeting' was
pencilled in just underneath Care of Magical Creatures that afternoon.

Lily was giving him a keen look. "You've been planning," she said sceptically.

"'Course. Can't go into my first meeting blind, can I?"

"That seems to be your general method of operating," she teased gently. "King of
improvisation, aren't you?"

James tried to sound modest. "That would be Sirius. I'm a close second, though."

"Right." She stood up, Vanishing the crumbs of toast off her plate with a wave of her wand.
"Well, I'm off to Arithmancy. I look forward to seeing your preparations this afternoon."

After Care of Magical Creatures, James sped to the staffroom on the ground floor, where the
prefect meetings were held. He turned the handle, but the door was locked.

He swore. He didn't know the password. No matter, though; he was good at guessing them.
And the staffroom would likely have a stuffy, boring password that would be a breeze to
figure out.

"Er… 'Hogwarts Four?'" he guessed. Nothing happened.

He tried again. "'I love Dumbledore'? No? Alright, then… what about 'Beauxbatons can suck
my —'"

The door swung open. Lily was standing on the other side, grinning. "Say that last one
again?"

"You wish," said James, and she laughed. "What's the real password, anyway?"

"'Draco dormiens.'"

The school motto. That figured. "I would have gotten it eventually."

"Of course you would have."

"It's true!" He looked about the room, which was about as dull as a staffroom could be. There
was a long table in the middle and a stack of extra chairs in the corner, presumably for the
prefects to sit in. "So, er. What's the plan?"

Lily folded her arms, looking smug. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"You didn't prepare anything?"

She shrugged. "I didn't see the need. Since you've been 'planning for ages'. Haven't you?"

"Yeah," he said, "only we're supposed to be a team —"

"I'll lead next month's meeting, then. How's that sound?"

It sounded like James was about to make a fool of himself. But he couldn't very well back
down. "Alright." He drew his wand and conjured a plush, crimson armchair.

Lily looked at it curiously. "What's that for?"

"So you can sit back and relax," he said. "I've got everything covered, after all."

With a grin, she flopped into the armchair. "Excellent. I'm looking forward to it."

At five minutes till, the prefects began to trickle in, and all were present by the time the
James' watch struck six. Prefects, he thought disparagingly. They were so punctual.

He cleared his throat, and what little chatter there was died at once. All eyes turned to him,
annoyingly attentive. Prefects.

"Erm," he said. "Hi. I'm James Potter, and this is Lily Evans." He gestured at Lily, who was
perched demurely on the armchair, looking every inch like a proper Head Girl. "We'll be your
sovereign overlords this year, and you will be our servants who do what we say."

That earned him a look from Lily. None of the prefects laughed, though Remus gave him a
grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile.

"Right," said James, floundering. The Marauders always laughed at his jokes; he wasn't used
to a tough crowd. "Er, first things first. Filch has banned Screaming Yo-Yos, Belch Powder,
and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs from the castle this year. So if you find any, bring them to me.
I've always wanted a Screaming Yo-Yo," he added with a wink.

A few of the prefects frowned. Others looked confused, as if they weren't certain they were in
the right place, after all.

"I'm only joking," said James, who hadn't been. That earned him a couple of smiles, but the
prefects seemed more relieved than amused. "Next item on the agenda…" He looked to Lily
for help, but she was purposefully not making eye contact with him. At least she was holding
back a grin, though. She looked terribly attractive like that.
James realised that he had completely lost his train of thought. The prefects were still
watching, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"Erm," he said. There was no avoiding it; he would have to improvise. "The next thing is…
bullying. Hogwarts is adopting a no-tolerance policy this year on bullying." Not true, but it
sounded good. A couple of prefects nodded, which encouraged him. "So, er, if you see
someone bullying another student, you're allowed to give detention and take points."

A Ravenclaw prefect with curly brown hair and green eyes raised his hand. "How many
points?"

"At least fifty," said James on a whim. The curly-haired prefect raised his eyebrows, and
James realised that only teachers were allowed to take more than five points at a time.

There was no taking back what he'd said, so he decided to double down. "It sounds harsh, but
Dumbledore wants us to send a strong signal. We won't be tolerating any bullying this year,
and — and especially not bullying towards half-bloods or Muggle-borns."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily smile.

Was there anything else he ought to talk about? He couldn't think of anything.

"Well, that's it." He made a show of dusting off his hands. "I declare this meeting adjourned."

To his surprise, nobody moved. The curly-haired Ravenclaw prefect raised his hand again.

"Yes?"

"Aren't we going to sign up for the patrol schedule?" asked the prefect.

"Ah," said James. "Right. That was my little test for you. And you passed! Good work."

Lily snorted. In the back, Remus was openly grinning. Even Sirius' scrawny little brother
looked amused.

James Conjured a large piece of parchment. He wasn't quite sure what the usual format was,
so he simply wrote 'Patrol Schedule' at the top and left the rest blank.

"Have at it," he said to the prefects, who had already queued up so neatly it was a little
disturbing; nobody was jostling elbows or fighting to be first. "Slow down, everyone, no need
to rush…" He chuckled a little. Somebody needed to laugh at his jokes, even if that someone
was him.

After everyone else had left, James turned to Lily. "How did I do?"

"Well, that wasn't terrible," she said, rising from her seat. "And I quite enjoyed being able to
put my feet up while you did all the heavy lifting."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," he said. "I'm not bailing you out if you forget your lines
during next month's meeting."
"As if I ever would." Her eyes were sparkling; he wasn't sure why she only looked at him like
this when they were alone. "You did forget a few things, though."

"Rubbish."

The corner of her mouth lifted. "Would I lie to you?"

That was a good point. The Lily Evans he knew would never miss an opportunity to point out
his mistakes. "Alright, then," said James, putting his arms behind his head. "What did I
miss?"

"Professor McGonagall wanted us to talk about the limited number of Hogsmeade excursions
this year," she said, looking over the patrol schedule on the table. "And you ought to have
mentioned the increased Ministry presence in the castle, too."

James refused to be cowed. "Minnie should have told me if she wanted me to talk about
Hogsmeade. And the Ministry guards are old news, they've been positioned here since Sally
went missing last year."

"She did mention it," said Lily. "Twice, in fact."

He cocked his head. "Really?"

"Yeah. You were having a sausage-eating contest with Sirius though, so your attention might
have been elsewhere."

That explained it. "Oh. Well, it's a good thing there's two of us. You can remember the things
I forget."

"Something like that. I — oh. " Lily frowned at the patrol schedule.

"What's wrong?" James glanced at the parchment, but he had no idea what might have
bothered her. "Is the format off? Sorry about that — didn't know what would be best, so I, er,
left it blank. The prefects seemed to have done a decent job filling things in, though."

"That's not it." Lily pointed at one of the names on the parchment. "Remember Crouch, who
we were talking about? He's got a son."

"A son?" James leaned forward, taking a better look at the patrol schedule. Bartemius
Crouch, Junior had signed up to patrol with Edmund Avery. "Merlin's tits. You're right.
Wonder if he's got a wand up his arse like his old man?"

"He was the Ravenclaw who kept asking you questions. I've never seen him before — he
must be a fifth year, one of the new prefects." Lily chewed her lip. "I don't like that. What're
the odds his father asks him to keep tabs on me?"

"Zero," said James confidently. "Now you're just being paranoid."

"Am I? You didn't hear what Crouch Senior had to say at the trial. If it had been up to him, I
wouldn't have come back to Hogwarts."
 "Yeah, but you did come back to Hogwarts, so he can shove that up the same place as his
wand —"

"James!"

He shrugged. "I don't think there's anything sinister going on. Like father, like son, right?
Crouch Junior probably loves enforcing the rules, just like his dear old dad. No wonder he
got made a prefect."

Lily didn't look convinced.

"Enough worrying." James pulled open the door. "That was a successful first meeting if you
ask me, and now we've got places to be. Come on."

"We do? Where?"

"I invited the Marauders and your friends to have dinner with us in the dormitory," said
James with a grin. "The house-elves should be delivering the food now. If we hurry there
might be some left… if Peter doesn't eat everything…"

Chapter End Notes

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist! This Jily relationship
has been years in the making so I am throwing all my favorite tropes at it.

To those of you who guessed that the new prof was a Prewett, good work!

Thanks for reading!

 The Jinx

During their Transfiguration lesson two weeks later, Severus was surreptitiously helping
Avery turn his goblet of vinegar into wine when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" called Professor McGonagall. Severus took advantage of the distraction to give
Avery's vinegar a deep red tint.

Professor Slughorn leaned into the classroom, his expression solemn. "Sorry to interrupt,
Minerva. I was hoping to speak to Snape and Avery."

"Be my guest," said Professor McGonagall, peering into their goblets. "Excellent work on
your vinegar, Avery. Snape, I expect you to make significantly more progress when you
return."

Severus nodded, then followed Professor Slughorn and Avery into the corridor. "Yes, sir?" he
asked.

Professor Slughorn shook his head. "Not here, boys. We'll speak in my office." He turned,
gesturing for them to follow.

"Are we in trouble?" Avery whispered to Severus.

"It certainly appears that way."

Avery's mouth twisted into a knowing grin. "Did you do something bad?"

"No."

"Then why —"

"I haven't the faintest, so you can stop interrogating me," said Severus through gritted teeth.

Avery pouted, but he remained silent as they marched to the dungeons. Professor Slughorn
pushed open the door to his office; Regulus was already inside, sitting stiffly in one of three
wooden chairs opposite Slughorn's desk.

"Now, boys." Professor Slughorn settled behind his desk and gestured for them to have a seat
in the remaining chairs. "I'm certain you're aware of why I wish to speak with you. I'm
disappointed, might I add — very disappointed."

Avery giggled, apparently unaware of the seriousness of the situation. "Are you very, very
disappointed?"

"I am." Professor Slughorn eyed them all severely. "I'd hoped that the events of last term had
knocked some sense into you three, but it's clear I was wrong about that." Avery opened his
mouth, but Professor Slughorn held up a hand, cutting him off. "I don't mean to scold —
we've all cast curses we shouldn't have, Lord knows I was no angel as a student — but this is
beyond the pale. Far beyond it."

Severus had no idea what Professor Slughorn was jabbering about. He'd kept his head down
since returning to Hogwarts: for once in his life, he hadn't made any decisions that needed to
be hidden from the professors. He exchanged a look with Regulus, who was plainly as lost as
he was.

"Apologies if I speak out of turn, sir," said Severus. "But would you mind elaborating on the
situation to which you refer? I can't recall casting any curses as of late — setting last term
aside, of course."

"There's no need to be coy," said Professor Slughorn. "You know as well as I do what has
happened to poor Owen Stickley."

Severus had never even heard of a student named Owen Stickley. Not that Slughorn would
believe him if he said as much. And if he hadn't done anything to him, there was no way
Regulus had, either. Let alone Avery, who no longer knew which end of his wand to hold.

Professor Slughorn must have been thinking along these same lines, because he was
regarding Avery with pity. "No, I suppose you couldn't have had a hand in this, Edmund," he
murmured. "After all, you've been addled since… well, never mind that." He turned his
watery eyes to Severus and Regulus. "Owen is a first-year in your own house. Suffice it to
say that a pair of students found him lying face-down in the common room this morning,
covered in blood and deep wounds — magic of the Darkest sort. He was at death's door when
they brought him to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey is working to stabilise him as we
speak, though it's my understanding that the outlook is grim."

"Wow," said Avery, looking awed. "He might die? That's horrible."

Regulus squared his shoulders, looking as resolute as Severus had ever seen him. "Sir, I
understand why you believe we were involved, especially given the events of last June. But I
can say unequivocally that we had nothing to do with it."

"We learned our lesson," added Severus. "After what happened with Sally Dearborn… after
Mulciber was expelled… we realised we had gone too far. What happened to Stickley is
unfortunate, but we played no part in it."

Professor Slughorn stroked his moustache several times, befuddled. "As much as I would like
to, I'm afraid I cannot take you at your word," he said at last. "You have already proven
yourselves capable of this sort of Dark magic. I expect you each to serve detention for what
you have done."

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. A single detention? Professor Slughorn really didn't
know how to keep his own House under control.

As though he'd read his mind, Professor Slughorn continued, his tone grave. "A further
warning — if this happens again, I will have no choice but to let the Deputy Headmistress
oversee your discipline."
Regulus began to hyperventilate. Severus gave no outward sign of alarm, though he too was
rattled by the threat. If they were unjustly accused again, Professor McGonagall would likely
expel them before they could even begin to plead their case.

Professor Slughorn raised a hand, and the door to his office opened. "Off you go, now. And
please — try to behave yourselves. If only for your own sake."

Once they were in the dimly lit dungeon corridor, Regulus rounded on Severus. "What did
you do?" he said in a low, urgent voice.

"Nothing," snapped Severus.

Regulus snorted. "Right. As if I believe that —"

Severus wasn't inclined to listen to further false accusations. He turned on his heel and began
to stalk down the corridor.

"Wait," called Regulus. "Sev — wait —"

Shoes pattered on the stone floor as Regulus and Avery caught up to him. "You have to tell us
what you've done," said Regulus, grabbing Severus by the arm. "It isn't fair —"

Severus shook him off. He glanced around the dungeon corridor, which was empty; still, he
couldn't risk anyone overhearing them. "Dungeon Thirteen. We'll talk there."

Once they were inside the dungeon, he locked the gilded door behind them, though there was
really no need. Only Followers could find the place, after all.

Regulus crossed his arms, looking as angry as Severus had ever seen him. "Now that we're
alone, do you mind explaining why you thought it'd be a laugh to slice up a first-year student
like a piece of meat —"

"You sound like Professor Slughorn," snapped Severus. "Whatever happened to that boy, I
didn't do it. And neither did you, I'm assuming."

Regulus snorted. "Of course I didn't. But if you think I believe that you didn't have a hand in
it —"

"You can search my memories, if you like," said Severus, which shut Regulus up. "I know it's
shocking, but I'm being honest. My only goal this year is to graduate without being expelled.
Why would I threaten that by cursing a random student from my own House?"

There was a pause.

"I didn't do it, either," said Avery belatedly.

"Yes, Edmund, we're well aware," said Severus. "The question is: who did?"

Regulus was frowning. "They found Stickley in the common room, didn't they? So it had to
be someone in Slytherin."
"One would assume," said Severus. "Any idea who it might have been?"

Regulus chewed on his bottom lip. "Possibly one of the students I was telling you about —
the ones who wanted to be Followers. Maybe they thought that cursing him would get our
attention."

"Idiots," muttered Severus. "Remind me — who showed interest in Following?"

"Rudolph Brand and Emma Vanity," said Regulus. "Aquila Greengrass mentioned something
to me, too, but that might have been a fluke — she hadn't brought it up since."

"Emma Vanity has wanted to be a Follower for years," said Severus. "She was present the
first time I ever met with Lucius Malfoy. He didn't want her, though."

"Perhaps she never got over that," said Regulus. "Maybe she thinks this year is her last
chance to get ahead. Rise through the Dark Lord's ranks."

"I pity her, if that's the case," said Severus. "There's no glory, here; we must be the Dark
Lord's sorriest Followers."

Regulus gave him a small smile. "That's certain."

Severus turned towards the fireplace and passed his hand over his wand. At once, bright
green flames leapt in the hearth, bringing a meagre warmth to the room. He stared into the
emerald fire, thinking hard. As much as he hated to admit it, they might have no choice but to
do a bit of good — for Hogwarts, and for themselves. They needed to bring the perpetrator to
light.

"Here's what we'll do," he said at last. "We need to figure out who cursed Stickley, and soon.
If they think they've gotten away with it — if they see that we've taken the fall for it — they
might be emboldened to attack again. And if we're forced to defend ourselves to McGonagall,
I don't like our odds. Do you?"

"Er… no?" said Avery. It was clear he had stopped following the discussion long ago.

"Exactly, Edmund," said Severus. "I propose we do the following. Regulus, I want you to
speak with Brand, Vanity, and Greengrass. You can pretend that you want to know who
cursed Stickley because you're impressed with them. Insinuate that we're considering adding
to our ranks… that may draw out the truth."

Regulus nodded tightly. "Any particular reason you're leaving the questioning to me?"

"I'll be interrogating my own suspects," said Severus darkly. "There are a few people outside
our house who have a twisted sense of humour. I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to frame
us for their own misdeeds." He fixed his eyes on Regulus. "You know who I'm talking about,
don't you?"

Regulus swallowed. "My brother —"

"— Is a sociopath and a menace to society," finished Severus. "James Potter is no better. If I
find out they're the ones behind this…" He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

It made perfect sense, after all. Potter and Black had a long history of cursing Slytherins for
sport. And as Head Boy, James had access to all of the common rooms. They probably
thought it would be a laugh to get Severus expelled.

Well. They were in for a nasty surprise, because he wasn't the cowering fifth-year he'd once
been. He was in charge of the Followers now, and even though there were only three of them,
they were his responsibility. If Potter and Black wanted to go after him, that was one thing.
But he wouldn't let them go after Regulus and Avery, too. Not without a fight.

Lily was quite busy the following day: she had Herbology and Double Charms in the
morning, a mere half-hour break for lunch, History of Magic and Double Potions in the
afternoon, and an hour of apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey after dinner. As if that wasn't
bad enough, a second-year Hufflepuff found her in the corridor after History of Magic and
pressed a scroll into her hand. It was a message from Professor McGonagall, requesting that
Lily come to her office after her apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey.

Lily pocketed the scroll with a sigh. Year six had been exhausting, but year seven looked like
it was going to be even worse. Between her duties as Head Girl and taking nine N.E.W.T.-
level classes, her days were jam-packed. At least she only had her apprenticeship with
Madam Pomfrey twice a month, instead of every week like the previous year. Small mercies,
she thought.

The hospital wing was nearly empty when she arrived; only one of the beds was occupied,
though its curtains were drawn, so she couldn't see its occupant.

"There you are," said Madam Pomfrey, who was stripping the linens off a cot near the
entrance to the hospital wing. The normally white sheets were stained crimson, and several
dark red puddles had formed on the floor. "Mind grabbing the bottle of lye in the cabinet and
helping me with these linens, I'm hoping the stains will wash out…"

Lily ran to the medicine cabinet for the lye, then helped Madam Pomfrey dump the linens in
the large copper cauldron in the corner. "What did I miss?" she asked, pouring the lye onto
the stained sheets. "Looks like someone tried to bleed out on you…"

"That's putting it mildly," replied Madam Pomfrey. "I haven't had a student try so hard to die
on me since the Cockatrice incident of 1971."

Lily hadn't heard of the Cockatrice incident, but she knew better than to ask. "So what
happened this time?"
Madam Pomfrey shook her head as she wrung out the sheets. "I'm not entirely certain. A
couple of students found poor Owen Stickley in the Slytherin common room, covered in
slashes like he'd been attacked with a knife. He had nearly lost his entire volume of blood by
the time they brought him to me. Yellow bile was almost completely depleted, spleen
spewing black bile like you wouldn't believe — I've never seen anything like it."

Lily thought of the time Severus had sliced James Potter's chest open with a wave of his
wand. "Could it have been a curse?"

"Possibly," said Madam Pomfrey, "though no curse I know of can cause such profuse
bleeding like that. Nothing I tried could stop it."

"But you did save him, right?"

"Yes, but it was close," said Madam Pomfrey. "I worked round the clock last night, and even
then it was touch-and-go. Finally got in contact with a few Healers at St. Mungo's — they
were screening their Floo calls, Merlin knows why — and it's a good thing I did. They
transferred him at once. Last I heard, they'd managed to stop the bleeding, but now he's not
responding to Blood-Replenishing potions."

That's frightening, reflected Lily as she scrubbed the sheets. No creature could cause wounds
like that. Owen Stickley must have been affected by a spell or an enchanted object. His
surname hadn't escaped her notice, either: he was at least a half-blood, and potentially
Muggle-born. Had somebody targeted him for his blood status?

After her apprenticeship had finished for the evening, she headed straight to Professor
McGonagall's office. To her surprise, James was already there; he and Professor McGonagall
were deeply engrossed in conversation about Quidditch, a tin of biscuits on the desk between
them.

"… You should've seen Susan Li during try-outs for Keeper last week," said James, chewing
on a biscuit. "Only let through a single goal. She's no Simon Ashworth, of course, but she's
close."

"She favours the left hoop," replied Professor McGonagall. "You've got to break her of that
habit, preferably before we face Slytherin."

"Not a problem," said James. "I'm more worried about the Slytherin Beaters, they've chosen
Ivanna Burke to replace Mulciber, and she's got wicked aim…"

Lily cleared her throat, and they both turned to her.

"Have a seat, Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall, gesturing to the chair beside James.
"We'll have to continue this conversation later, Potter. Now that you're both here, I was
hoping to speak to you about an incident that occurred last night."

Lily had a sneaking suspicion she already knew what Professor McGonagall was talking
about. "Does it have anything to do with what happened to Owen Stickley, Professor?" she
asked.
Professor McGonagall's thin eyebrows raised slightly above her glasses. "Indeed. Madam
Pomfrey filled you in, I assume?"

Lily nodded.

"Did she have any updates from St Mungo's?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"The Healers there managed to stabilise him. He isn't responding to their Blood-Replenishing
potions, though."

"Er, sorry," said James, looking back and forth between Lily and Professor McGonagall. "But
would one of you mind filling me in…?"

After Professor McGonagall finished explaining what had happened, James' mouth was ajar.
"I can't believe it," he said. "Why would someone do that? It hasn't even been a month since
the start of term… those maniacs really don't waste any time, do they?"

"So it would seem," said Professor McGonagall. "The last thing the Headmaster and I want is
a repeat of what happened last year. We failed to protect Sally Dearborn from those who
threatened her; that must not happen again. I would like you two to investigate what
happened to Owen Stickley — and who was involved."

Lily pressed her lips together. Professor McGonagall was placing quite a bit of faith in them.
If they failed to discover the culprit… whatever had happened to Owen Stickley might
happen again. "Are you certain, Professor?"

"I can think of nobody more suited for the job than you two," said Professor McGonagall.
"As Head Boy and Girl, you have free reign of the castle… not to mention that uncovering
the truth seems to be a strong suit of yours."

"Consider it done," said James. "We'll figure out who's behind the attack by this time next
week."

The corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched. "I must say, Potter. I never thought I'd
see you so eager to carry out the responsibilities of Head Boy."

"Yeah, well, it helps when it's something interesting like this," said James. "Arranging the
patrol schedule makes me want to off myself, though."

"Speaking of being Head Boy and Girl," said Lily, "please tell me you tried to talk
Dumbledore out of creating a Heads' dormitory."

Professor McGonagall's expression grew steely. "I attempted as much," she said, her tone
clipped. "Unfortunately, I was unsuccessful in persuading him."

"What was he thinking?" said Lily. "Sticking a boy and girl alone in a dormitory together is
just asking for trouble. Surely he remembers what it's like to be a teenager…"

"I'm not so certain he does," said Professor McGonagall. "Albus is brilliant, but his common
sense is occasionally lacking. If the Heads' dormitory isn't to your liking, I'm certain we can
arrange to have you both stay in the seventh year dormitories, as is tradition."

Lily hadn't been suggesting they go that far. She hated to admit it, but having a private room
was fantastic. "No, that — that won't be necessary," she said. "I just think it's lucky he chose
James and me, because we're mature enough to manage the situation."

Professor McGonagall looked reassured. James, on the other hand, did not. As soon as they
left the professor's office, he rounded on Lily. "What was that about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you complain to McGonagall about the Heads' dormitory?"

"I wasn't complaining," she said defensively. "I just wanted to make sure that at least one
adult around here acknowledges what a horrid idea it is."

"It's not horrid. It's brilliant. I love having my own room, and the Marauders love to hang out
in the common area…" he trailed off, noticing that she was biting her lip to refrain from
laughing. "What?"

"I can't take you seriously when you call your mates the Marauders. Are you twelve?"

"You're just jealous that you and your friends don't have a name for yourselves."

"That's it. I'm jealous."

"Well, regardless," he said. "You almost ruined a perfectly good thing, talking to McGonagall
like that. She's going to think we don't want to have our own dormitory."

"James," said Lily. "The Head's dormitory is only a good thing because we're the Head Boy
and Girl."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know! We don't — we don't fancy each other. So there's no risk of anything happening
between us. If it had been anyone else, they would've shagged each other senseless by now!"

James was grinning. "You are so hung up on people shagging each other. Maybe that's your
subconscious telling you something."

"What?" How dare he. "I am not!"

"You are," he said smugly.

"James Potter, you are a pervert."

He shrugged. "It's possible. Honestly, though — Dumbledore's on another level, sure, but he's
not that thick. I'm sure he considered what the Head Boy and Girl might do if left to their
own devices."
She stared at him. "And you think Dumbledore was okay with that?"

"Clearly he was, since he went through with it."

Lily's voice was deadpan. "You think Dumbledore was alright with the Head Boy and Girl
getting distracted and — and fornicating in a private dormitory —"

He laughed. "Fornicating?"

"You know what I mean!" she said with a huff. "It's just… it's not very responsible of him."

"Of course not," said James. "But that's Dumbledore for you, isn't it? Honestly, I'm willing to
bet there have been plenty of Heads who have fornicated in the prefects' bathroom, or in the
staffroom before prefect meetings. In light of that, what's one more private space?"

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "I'm regretting having this conversation with you."

"I'm not." He glanced at her and took pity. "Aw, Evans, there's no need to look like that. It's a
part of life, isn't it?"

"Well… yes, but… it isn't part of my life!"

"Nor mine," said James. "Which is why we are the perfect people to be enjoying the Heads'
dormitory. Isn't that right?"

It was hard to find a flaw in his reasoning. "Maybe," she admitted, not used to losing
arguments.

"You know I'm right. Unclench a bit, would you, Evans?"

His word choice had to be on purpose. She decided to change the subject. "What do you
think of the task McGonagall's assigned us? Any clue what might've happened to Owen
Stickley?"

"Yeah, I've got a pretty good idea already," said James, animated. "That spell sounds an awful
lot like the curse I got hit with last year, don't you think?…"

Lily shook her head. "I don't think it's the same spell."

"Of course it is. Stickley was left a bloody mess, same as I was, right?"

"Yes, but I was able to heal you, remember? Madam Pomfrey couldn't close Stickley's
wounds. Whatever curse he was hit with, it isn't something we've seen before."

A furrow appeared between James' eyebrows. "You might have a point." They reached the
fourth-floor landing, and he paused. "Right, I'm off to the library. Meet you back in the
Heads' dormitory at nine, and we'll swap theories about who might've cursed Stickley?"

Lily must have misheard. "You're off… to the library?"

"That's right," he said, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. "Need to do some research, you
know."

She watched him walk away, feeling slightly unmoored. James Potter was doing research in
the library. Alone.

Maybe he's been Imperiused, she thought. Why else would he be acting so unlike himself?

She went back to her bedroom, poured herself a cup of tea, and worked on her star chart for
Astronomy until she heard somebody moving about the common area.

"How was the library?" she asked pointedly, joining James by the fire. He was in one of the
yellow armchairs, so she sat on the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her.

"It was helpful, actually," he said.

"You sound surprised."

"I am. Usually the books in the library are so outdated that they're no use to anyone. But I
actually found what I was looking for this time." He pulled a thick, leather-bound tome from
his bag and waved it at her.

She eyed the spine of the book sceptically. "Magick Moste Evile?"

"Yeah," said James proudly. "There's a description of a curse in chapter four that exactly
matches what happened to Stickley."

"Doesn't that book belong in the Restricted Section? I thought you couldn't take those out."

"You can't." He opened the book and flipped through a few sections, then turned it outward
so that she could read it. "Look here. 'The Corecut Curse, first known use by Heidrich
Eberstadt in 1259…'"

"James. You're Head Boy. You can't go around stealing books from the library —"

"It's not stealing. I'm going to return it."

Lily sighed in frustration. "Do you think the rules don't apply to you?"

"They don't. Especially not now that I'm Head Boy." He grinned.

"You — you are —"

"A dashing young lad?"

"Incredibly frustrating."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes! I put a toe out of line, and the Wizengamot calls for my expulsion. You break every
rule in Filch's books, and nothing happens."
The buoyant look faded from James' face. "That does sound frustrating, now that you
mention it. Sorry about that, Lily — you really do have an unfair lot. I can't help that I was
born with a silver wand in my mouth, though." He smiled crookedly at her.

"That sounds dirty," she said, slightly off-balance. She wasn't used to him empathising so
readily.

"Your mind's in the gutter today," he teased. Before she could protest, he thrust the book
towards her. "Go on, take a look. Do you want to know what the curse does, or not?"

"Fine." She pulled the book from his hands and skimmed the page, chewing her lip. "That
does sound like the spell that was used," she admitted when she had finished reading.

"I knew it," said James proudly. "Now, any idea who could have cast something like that?"

Lily sighed heavily. "Don't make me say it."

"You're thinking what I'm thinking, though, aren't you?"

"That it must have been Severus and his gang?" She shut the book. "Yeah."

"Okay, good," he said. "Glad you came to that conclusion, too. Thought you might bite my
head off if I was the one to say it."

She made a face. "Sev and I aren't friends anymore, remember? I've got no illusions about the
kind of person he is."

"Nor have I. Still, odd that he'd curse someone in his own house, isn't it?"

"It might not be so strange," said Lily, tracing the book's cover with a finger. "Stickley's a
half-blood, right? Or is he Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood. The Sorting Hat doesn't put Muggle-borns in Slytherin anymore. Rarely sends
half-bloods there, either, come to think of it."

"So Stickley's one of the few students in Slytherin who isn’t a pure-blood. That must have put
a target on his back."

"That's what I don't get, though," said James. "There's loads more half-bloods and Muggle-
borns in any of the other houses. Seems like those would be easier pickings than Slytherin."

Lily shook her head. "I think that's exactly why Sev — or whoever is responsible — chose
Stickley. They wanted to send a clear message: that half-bloods aren't welcome in Slytherin."

"Oh." He was silent a moment. "Well. That's horrible."

"You know what's funny, though?"

"What?"
"Sev's dad is a Muggle."

James' jaw dropped. "You're joking. A full Muggle? Not just a half-blood?"

"I'm not. Sev might try to hide it, but he's the same as the Muggle-borns and half-bloods that
he hates."

James whistled, long and low. "There aren't enough Mind Healers in the world to unpack
that."

"Which is why he's no longer my mate." Lily rose from the sofa, yawning. "I suppose the two
of us should have a chat with him, shouldn't we?"

"Don't trouble yourself. I'll speak to him about it."

She shot him a look. "If you think I'm letting you talk to him — after the history you two
have —"

"Relax. It'll be fine."

"One of you will end up cursing the other."

"Nah. I've outgrown that. And he'll be expelled if he so much as singes a hair on my head."
James leaned back in the armchair and opened Magick Moste Evile. He flipped through its
pages, calm as Lily had ever seen him. It was bizarre.

"What?" he said after a moment, glancing at her.

"Nothing. You just — you've been surprising me, lately."

"How so?"

You act like a reasonable human being instead of an arrogant toerag. "Just — you're doing a
good job. At being Head Boy, I mean. I didn't expect that."

"Careful," he said with a grin, and he turned a page. "One more backhanded compliment like
that, and my head will grow so large it'll float away."

"It wasn't — I didn't mean it like that —"

"Relax, Lily. I'll take what I can get from you." As if he realised how he sounded, he cleared
his throat awkwardly.

She decided to pretend like she hadn't heard the last bit. "Don't stay up too late reading that
horrible book. We've got Herbology tomorrow morning."

"I'll turn in soon. Just going to memorise a few of these curses, in case Severus draws his
wand on me —"

"James!" She swatted him on the shoulder.

He pushed her away, laughing. "Joking! I'm joking!"

In her bedroom, Lily found herself replaying their conversation as she changed into her
pyjamas. James was infuriating, he really was. He was also stepping up to the task of being
Head Boy in ways she'd never expected from him.

In some ways, it would be preferable if he had been Imperiused. At least that way she could
chalk up his behaviour to someone else's doing. Because if he continued like this… she was
going to fall for him hard.

Perhaps she already had.

On Thursday afternoon, Remus followed Peter up the silver ladder to the Divination
classroom. His shoulders ached as he hauled himself through the trapdoor; the full moon had
only been two days ago, and he hadn't yet recovered. He hoped that the Divination teacher,
Professor Vablatsky, would leave them to their own devices so that he could take a nap.

The Divination classroom was suffocatingly warm and smelled strongly of incense. Professor
Vablatsky was nowhere to be seen, which wasn't at all unusual; he claimed too much
interpersonal contact clouded his Inner Eye. There was a set of hastily-scrawled instructions
on the chalkboard, which Remus ignored. He sat across from Peter at one of the low, circular
tables, gingerly settling his sore hips on a pouffe. He laid his head on the table while Peter
bustled about and gathered all manner of knickknacks for the day's lesson.

"Did you bring your bergamot decoction?" asked Peter.

Remus yawned. "My what?"

"We're doing pyromancy today," said Peter. "You'll need your hand-pressed bergamot
decoction if you want a chance at seeing an omen."

"I must have left it in the dormitory."

Peter frowned. "But what if something bad's going to happen to you? Don't you want to know
about it?"

Remus didn't need to perform pyromancy to know that his future was bleak. In fact, the less
he looked into what was to come, the better. "Ignorance is bliss, Wormtail." His head felt
heavy, and he closed his eyes. "Wake me up if Professor Vablatsky makes an appearance."

He slid blissfully into sleep.

After too short a time, Peter said his name.

"Yes?" muttered Remus. He tried not to sound irritated, though only fifteen minutes had
passed. Surely Peter could have let him sleep a little longer —

Peter gestured at the ceramic plate in front of him, looking pale. "I think I've got an omen."

Reluctantly, Remus raised his head and peered at it. Several lines of ash crisscrossed the
plate, widening into small heaps at the corners. It didn't look like any symbol that Remus
recognised.

"What's this supposed to be, then?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Peter. He pointed at ash with a trembling finger. "It's the Jinx."

Remus squinted at the plate. He'd never memorised all sixteen omens. He knew the Cursed
One, naturally, and the Grim, for obvious reasons. It might have been his post-nap haze, but
he couldn't for the life of him remember what the Jinx was supposed to look like. "Which one
is that again?"

"The Jinx," Peter intoned, clearly reciting from Unfogging the Future. "'A string of good luck
followed by a sudden, dramatic reversal of fortune.'"

"Oh yes, of course." Remus tried to sound like he knew what Peter was talking about. "And
the symbol is supposed to look like what now?"

"Three snakes, crossing paths," said Peter with a nervous glance at the ceramic plate. "Their
heads and tails overlap to form a glyph shaped like an hourglass."

If Remus squinted, he could vaguely see what Peter was talking about. Two of the lines of
ash definitely formed an 'X', at least.

"I'm not so sure," he said at last. "It looks a little blurry to me."

"Blurry?" said Peter indignantly. "It's clear as day —"

"Why don't you do the phyrromancy again? If you get the same result twice, that'll settle the
matter."

"It's pyromancy," said Peter. "And you know that's not how Divination works. Seeing the
same omen twice is incredibly rare. If the Jinx does appear again, it could mean we're
destined for something terrible…"

"Understood. Forget I said anything," said Remus. "Best not risk it, if you're frightened."

Right on cue, Peter bristled, and Remus had to keep himself from smiling. If there was one
thing that Gryffindor boys couldn't stand, it was the implication that they were afraid.

"I'm not frightened —"

"It's alright if you are. I'll do the pyromancy if you want."

Peter hesitated. "Would you really?"

"Sure." It wasn't like Remus actually believed in Divination. "Refill the oilcan, will you?
Think I've got a couple of extra wicks in my bag…"

He Vanished the ash on the ceramic plate while Peter poured more bergamot decoction into
the little tin oilcan. Once he had finished, Remus took the can and drizzled a few lines of oil
across the plate.

"That isn't right," interjected Peter. "You're supposed to make the rune for 'augury' with the
oil."

"That's what I'm doing," said Remus, who had been trying to make an 'S'. He added more oil.
"How's that, any better?"

"I guess."

Remus laid a long, waxy wick across the oil, then drew his wand. "Incendio."

The tip of the wick ignited and sparks shot up its length, like Muggle dynamite. The oil
caught fire next, covering the entire plate in hot, hungry flames.

Peter nudged him. "Do you have your soothsayer's scroll?"

"About that," said Remus. He'd forgotten to do it. He had been indisposed, after all.

"You didn't do the assignment?" said Peter.

"Not to worry." Remus pulled a blank roll of parchment from his bag and scrawled a single
rune onto it: the Moon, the only one that mattered. "This'll have to do."

"But you didn't do the ritual to make sure that the Moon is the right one —"

"Of course it's the right one. It's me we're talking about, isn't it?" Remus placed the
parchment atop the fire, and its corners curled as flames licked at the edges. Within seconds,
both the parchment and the fire had been reduced to ashes.

"Time for the moment of truth," said Remus. "What have we got here — hm."

That was unexpected. In the centre of the plate were three twisting, snakelike lines of ash,
forming the unmistakable shape of an hourglass.

Peter's face had lost all colour. "I don't believe it."

"I'm having trouble, myself," admitted Remus. He didn't believe in Divination. But there was
no denying that the ash had formed a shape that looked an awful lot like the Jinx.

"Let's try it again," said Peter, and he Vanished the contents of the plate, though his hands
were shaking. "I'll do it this time."
"I'll get us another plate," said Remus, rising. "Maybe this one's got a funny shape to it that's
making the ash behave strangely."

By the time the bell rang, signalling the end of the lesson, they had performed pyromancy
seven different times, using an assortment of materials. And every single time, after the
smoke cleared from the plate, the entwined symbol of the Jinx had stared up at them.

"We're fucked," was the first thing Peter said to the others over dinner. "We are well and truly
fucked —"

Sirius looked supremely unconcerned. He took a moment to finish chewing before

responding. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time, would it? What's going on, Pete?"

"It's — I…" Peter looked to Remus for help.

Remus, for his part, had spent the last three weeks avoiding direct interaction with Sirius, and
he didn't see any reason for that to change now. "Out with it, Wormtail." He opened his copy
of the Evening Prophet and placed it in front of his face.

Peter huffed. "You are no help."

Remus turned a page of the newspaper. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"I'm getting bored, Pete," said Sirius.

"Fine," said Peter. Though Remus couldn't see him, he could feel Peter's glare burning a hole
through the pages of the Prophet. "Remus and I saw an omen in Divination today."

"Was it the Four of Wands?" asked James. "Got that one in my third year. Represents
noteworthy success and abounding prosperity, if I remember correctly."

"It wasn't the Four of Wands," said Peter. "It was the Jinx."

Nobody responded. After a moment, Sirius returned to his steak and kidney pie.

Peter's voice was incredulous. "Do none of you remember what the Jinx is?"

"Sorry, Pete," said James. "You'll have to bear with me for a second, haven't taken Divs since
fifth year… was that the one that foretells trials and sacrifice?"

"That's the Hanged Man," said Peter sourly. "The sign of the Jinx is three snakes crossing
each other."

Sirius snapped his fingers. "I remember now. Good luck followed by drastic misfortune,
right?"

"Exactly," said Peter miserably.

James tapped his chin, thinking. "Any chance you might've misinterpreted it?"
"None."

James shrugged. "Well, at least the first half of the omen is decent. Gryffindor Quidditch
team could use some good luck in our match against Slytherin… though I hope this doesn't
mean we'll lose the Cup to Ravenclaw in the spring…"

"What do you think it means, Moony?" asked Sirius in the overly-deferential tone he'd been
using ever since their row in the dormitory. Remus hated it.

"I haven't the foggiest," he replied frostily.

Sirius was undeterred. "Don't hold out on us. You're brilliant, surely you've got some clue…"

"I haven't." He wished Sirius would stop treating him like he was the reincarnation of Merlin
and go back to behaving normally. He turned a page of the Prophet, and a column in the
corner caught his eye. Dark Mark Cast Over Muggle Pub, At Least Fifteen Feared Dead,
read the cramped headline.

Cheery, he thought as he skimmed the article. Fifteen murdered Muggles, and the Prophet
barely mentioned it. If the victims had been wizards, the news surely would have made the
front page.

No use dwelling on that, though. He doubted the journalists at the Prophet would shed a tear
for him, either, in the event of his untimely death.

Remus' first lesson the following morning was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Professor
Prewett wanted to see the progress they had made on the Patronus Charm. Sirius and James'
demonstrations delighted the professor: though it still wasn't clear what forms their
Patronuses would take, James' Patronus definitely had hooves, which was enough for
Professor Prewett to award him twenty points to Gryffindor. Even Peter was able to conjure a
small cloud of silver mist, which was a tremendous accomplishment for him, as Defence was
his weakest subject.

"Let's see what you've got, Lupin," said Professor Prewett after Peter had finished his
demonstration.

Remus hadn't even attempted the Patronus Charm since their last lesson. He drew his wand,
coughing a little. "Expecto Patronum," he said with no real feeling.

Nothing happened.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, stowing his wand. "I still haven't got the hang of it."

"Not to worry," responded Professor Prewett cheerily. "Why don't you meet me in my office
after class? I'll give you a few pointers."

"Oh — that's very generous, but I'm afraid I can't," said Remus hastily. "I've got Care of
Magical Creatures next, sir."
Professor Prewett was apparently oblivious to Remus' reluctance. "After dinner, then. What
say you?"

"I'm on patrol duty after dinner, sir." A classic lie that he told at least once a week.

"I see," said Professor Prewett. "That's a shame. You see, Lupin…" He lowered his voice so
the other students wouldn't overhear. "I hardly need to tell you this, but you're falling
behind."

"There isn't much I can do about that, I'm afraid," said Remus in his mildest, most pleasant
voice. "I just don't have the knack for the Patronus Charm. Once we move on to learning
nonverbal countercurses, I'm sure I'll…"

Professor Prewett's icy blue eyes searched Remus'. When he spoke, his tone was as jovial as
Remus' had been, but his face lacked any hint of humour. "I don't expect everyone in this
class to be capable of casting a Patronus, but I do expect everyone to give it an honest try.
Including you. Is that clear?"

Remus swallowed hard. "Crystal, sir."

The bell rang, and Remus took advantage of the ensuing commotion to slip out of the
classroom before his mates could wonder where he'd gone.

He spent the rest of the day considering his options. As much as he'd love to ignore his little
Patronus problem, it was clear that Professor Prewett wanted him to make an honest effort to
learn the spell. Remus had always been good at Defence; suppose he cast a corporeal
Patronus on the first try? Was Professor Prewett competent enough to recognise a werewolf
Patronus? Maybe he'd think it was an odd-looking wolf, and Remus' secret would be safe.

Or not, he thought, remembering Professor Prewett's insinuations during their first Defence
lesson.

After dinner, he climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door to the Defence
office, his heart in his throat.

The door opened. "Lupin," said Professor Prewett, adjusting the violet scarf around his neck.
"Please, come in." He ushered Remus inside.

Remus sat in the chair across from his desk and glanced around the office. The space was
well-decorated, even slightly cluttered; framed family photos hung on the walls, their
redheaded occupants waving at Remus. The shelves above the photos were crammed full of
magical artefacts, and on the wall directly behind Professor Prewett's desk were large, glossy
posters depicting various Dark creatures. Remus' eyes slid over the werewolf poster as
though it was of no particular interest, and he focused determinedly on the large stack of
books that took up most of the space atop the desk. A few were in a foreign language —
Hungarian, perhaps? The embossed spine of one of the books read Një Traktat Vampirësh —

As Remus squinted at the title, the tower of books suddenly vanished. He blinked; Professor
Prewett winked at him, then stowed his wand in the sleeve of his robes.
"We've more interesting things to talk about than my literary pursuits," said Professor Prewett
with a smile.

"I didn't mean to pry," said Remus hurriedly.

"Not to worry, Lupin. You weren't prying, merely curious. There's nothing wrong with that."

Remus wondered if Professor Prewett had been in Ravenclaw. "I hope you don't mind that
I'm here. I only thought… well, if I'm being honest, I could use some help with the Patronus
Charm."

Professor Prewett's smile grew wider. "Is that so? Then you've come to the right place. I'm
glad you took me up on the offer; you'll make much more progress with my help than you
ever would have alone."

Remus didn't argue, of course. Privately, he was confident that he could have mastered the
Patronus on his own; the problem was that he didn't want other people to see the form it
would take. Honestly, he didn't want to see its form, either.

"You mentioned before, sir, that you know a way to change the appearance of a Patronus," he
ventured.

"I do," said Professor Prewett. "But it requires an incredible amount of control over the spell.
It's likely that you shall have to learn to cast a proper Patronus before you succeed in altering
its form."

"There's no way around it?" asked Remus.

"You could try," said Professor Prewett. "I expect you'd have the most luck, though, if you
first learn to cast the charm, and then learn its variations."

Remus sighed and drew his wand. "Alright."

Professor Prewett nodded encouragingly at him. "Most people find it's easier to cast a
Patronus when concentrating on a happy memory. Have you got one in mind?"

"Yeah," said Remus, thinking of the day in the grotto by the lake when James and Peter had
first transformed into Animagi. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Expecto
Patronum!"

His skin prickled as the hair on his arms stood up. He opened his eyes, hopeful, but nothing
had happened; no silver mist had emerged from his wand.

"Ah, well, nobody gets it on their first time," said Professor Prewett. "Give it another go, why
don't you?"

Ten unsuccessful minutes later, Remus was becoming frustrated. He'd thought he could cast
the Patronus if he only put in a little effort. So why was nothing happening?
Professor Prewett was regarding Remus with concern, his pale lips pressed into a line. "I
don't suppose there's another memory —"

"I haven't got any more happy memories," said Remus flatly. "If that last one didn't work,
then I'm not sure what…"

Professor Prewett drummed his fingers on the table, looking thoughtful. "You know, some
people perform better under pressure. I've found this is especially true for those with a knack
for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Remus didn't like the sound of that. He preferred his life to be as pressure-free as possible.
"What are you suggesting? Sir?"

"Look around!" Professor Prewett gestured at his cluttered office. "It's no wonder you can't
manage the Patronus here. There's no real threat, no Dementors hiding in my wardrobe — at
least, I hope not," he added. "We need to find you a proper Dark creature, one you can try
your hand at defending yourself against."

Professor Prewett's sudden excitement reminded Remus of his father, who would regale him
with tales of the Dark creatures he'd studied in his youth. It was hard to say no to someone so
passionate about their job. Remus nodded. "I'd like that, sir."

"Excellent," said Professor Prewett. "I'll speak to Professor McGonagall; there might be a
banshee or two lurking about the Forbidden Forest. A Lethifold would be better, but I highly
doubt there's any within a hundred miles of Hogwarts…"

"Professor Kettleburn might keep one under his bed," said Remus, which earned him a grin
from Professor Prewett.

"I'll see what I can do, at any rate," said Professor Prewett. "I'll let you know when I find a
suitable creature. In the meantime — keep practising." As though he sensed Remus'
hesitation, he added, "do it in private, away from the others, if you need to. But I do expect
you to practice. Understood?"

Remus left Professor Prewett's office feeling surprisingly hopeful. He'd never had a teacher
take an interest in him before. Even better was the fact that Professor Prewett hadn't so much
as hinted at Remus' condition. Maybe he had read too much into their previous encounter;
perhaps his secret hadn't reached Professor Prewett's ears, after all.

A/N: This is what the Jinx looks like, for reference:

I also made a playlist for the Mapmakers, which I posted to my tumblr, if you're interested in
giving it a listen :)

Lastly, I wanted to talk a little bit about my interpretation of the Patronus charm. In canon,
we see that the Patronus mainly works on Dementors and Lethifolds, but it can also be used
on Boggarts (especially when they take the form of Dementors) as well as human children (in
the case when Malfoy dressed up as a dementor). Because of that, I don't think it's too much
of a stretch to say that the Patronus charm works as at least partial protection against many
dark creatures, though it is most effective against Dementors. Hope this clears things up for
people who might have been confused on how the Patronus charm works in this canon-
compliant story :)

Thanks for reading!

 Fact and Fancy

On Saturday evening, James and the Marauders were in the Head's dormitory, ostensibly
working on a Transfiguration essay that was due on Monday. After approximately seven
minutes of writing, however, Sirius turned into Padfoot and ripped up his parchment. That led
to Peter turning into Wormtail and scurrying in circles around the room, so James turned into
Prongs just for the laugh of it —

There was a sound like shattering glass, and something crunched under Prongs' hooves.

Remus, who had been looking at the Marauder's Map, glanced up. "I hope you know how to
repair that window, Prongs."

James, as Prongs, huffed. Padfoot let out a series of barks that sounded an awful lot like
laughter, then tried to tug the map out of Remus' hands.

"No," said Remus, pushing him away. "Bad dog, you know you're not to come near the
map…"

Prongs took advantage of Remus' momentary distraction and grabbed the map.

Remus threw his hands in the air. "What're you going to do, eat it?"

The stag let out an amused whinny, and the map nearly slipped out of his mouth; his teeth
were not meant to hold parchment, apparently.

Just then, the door that led to the girls' dormitories opened.

Remus was on his feet in an instant. He jabbed his wand at the door, and it slammed shut.

"Ouch!" cried a voice. Lily re-opened the door, rubbing her foot. "Bloody thing slammed shut
on my —" She stared at the scene in front of her.

James wobbled and caught Remus' shoulder to keep from falling over; the transition from
four legs to two was always awkward. "Alright, Lily?" His words came out rather muffled,
and he realised he still had the map in his mouth.

"Oh, hello, Evans," said Sirius, who was sprawled on the floor. There was a crash as the sofa
tipped over, revealing a crouching Peter; he had apparently been hiding underneath.

Lily's mouth was slightly ajar. "Are you high?"

"I wish," said Sirius.

James took a step towards her, then swore as pain shot through his foot; he had trodden on
broken glass, no longer having hooves to protect him.

Lily gave him a disparaging look. "I'm not even going to ask what happened to the window."
"Great," he said, hopping on one leg and holding his injured foot. "Because it's a really
boring story, honestly…"

She muttered something under her breath that sounded like "Boys," then disappeared into her
bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"Good night!" James called.

Her door cracked open. "That window had better be repaired by ten o'clock," she said. "I
don't want to feel a draft as I'm trying to sleep."

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll —"

She closed the door.

James ran his hands through his hair, then turned to his mates. "Tell me I don't look as stupid
as I feel right now."

"Prongs," said Sirius, "you know I'd never lie to you."

Remus pointed his wand at Lily's bedroom. "Muffliato."

"Good call," said James. He hopped over to the armchair and sat down gingerly. "Mind
repairing the window while you're at it, Moony?"

"I wasn't the one who broke it." Remus settled back at the table, the Marauder’s Map in his
hands. "Besides, I'm on patrol."

"Staring at the Marauder's Map doesn't count as patrol," said James. "Five points from
Gryffindor for the unparalleled display of laziness."

"Oh, now you care about the rules, do you?" said Remus. "Six points from Gryffindor for
being a joyless prat."

"Seven points from Gryffindor for — for not fixing the window —"

Sirius snickered and pointed his wand at the broken window. "Reparo." At once, the shards of
broken glass jumped off the ground and rearranged themselves inside the windowpane.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor," said James and Remus simultaneously, and they grinned at each
other.

Peter was frowning at the door to Lily's bedroom. "Why didn't she give you a goodnight
kiss?"

"Er," said James, "because that would be totally unnecessary?"

"Unnecessary?" repeated Sirius. "You're dating."

"If I was dating Lily Evans, I'd give her a goodnight kiss every day," sighed Peter.
"Oi!" said James. "No fantasising about — about my girlfriend."

"You and Wondergirl have snogged, though, haven't you?" said Sirius.

"Er, obviously," said James, focusing his attention on healing his foot.

"I've never seen you two going at it," said Peter.

"Nor have I," said Remus.

"I have," said Sirius, "but that was during our Apparition exam last term. Haven't noticed so
much as a peck since —"

"We peck!" said James defensively. "We do, er, all sorts of things. Physically."

There was a knowing look in Sirius' eyes. "Just like you and Parvana did all sorts of things?
Physically?"

"Oh, sod off," said James. "Lily and I — we, you know, pencil it in. Busy lives, and all that."

Remus looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"It's alright if you're gay," said Peter. "None of us give a damn —"

"Would a gay person snog Lily Evans as much as I do?" said James. "No. They wouldn't.
Quite the opposite, in fact —"

"You've snogged her once," said Sirius. "To be accurate, she snogged you."

"It's been more than that," said James. "Dozens of times, at least. Maybe hundreds."

"Prongs," said Remus, laughing gently. "You are a dreadful liar."

This was going to be a problem. James suspected that something would need to be done
about the Marauders and their unfortunate curiosity.

The following morning, when Lily emerged from her bedroom, she found that James was
already awake. He sat at the table in the common space, finishing a slice of toast. "We've got
a problem," he said, pouring her a cup of tea.

She tied her hair up, then took a seat across from him at the table. "Which is?"

"My mates."

She stirred sugar into her tea. "I've always thought they were a problem. Glad to see you
agree."
"No, I mean — I don't think they believe in us."

"What do you mean?"

"Our 'relationship'." James made quotes in the air with his fingers. "They think we're… on the
rocks, or something."

"Why on earth would they think that? We eat lunch together, and I always laugh at your
jokes, even the bad ones." She narrowed her eyes. "Are you not selling our relationship to
them? Because I'm doing an excellent job of pretending we're dating. Everyone's bought it,
even Marlene and Mary, so if you're not pulling your weight…"

"I am pulling my weight!" he said, sounding offended. "It's just that my mates — er."

Lily traced the rim of her teacup with a finger. "Out with it, Potter."

There was a long pause as James clearly tried to think of a way around their conversation. At
last, the words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. "Theythinkweoughttakissmore."

"Pardon?"

"They, er. Think we ought to, you know. Kiss more."

Lily froze, her teacup halfway to her lips.

"No," she said. "Absolutely not."

"Agreed," he said hurriedly. "I knew you'd hate the idea. I only wanted to let you know —
well, that we might not be pulling off our 'relationship' as well as we thought we were."

"There's more to a relationship than snogging."

"Of course there is," he said. "Only…"

"Yes?"

James shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, we ought to take things a step further,
shouldn't we? Don't get me wrong — I'm not suggesting we snog in public or anything, that
would be a disaster — but maybe it's time that we, I dunno, hold hands or something."

Lily's mouth was suddenly dry, and she took a sip of tea to avoid having to answer him. She
hated that she was already imagining how his hand would feel in hers. The mere thought of it
made her stomach clench with an awful sort of elation. It was horrible having butterflies over
James Potter, of all people. She hadn't even fantasised about kissing him; she had just
imagined holding hands.

Refusing to ever touch him was the smartest course of action — or the safest one for her
heart, at least. But if their act wasn't convincing, then something needed to be done. "Holding
hands might work," she admitted.
James seemed to relax now that she was considering his proposal. "Yeah. If we're seen taking
a walk on the grounds and holding hands, that should settle everyone's mind, shouldn't it?"

She was already picturing it as he spoke. She didn't like how urgently she wanted to know if
his palms were calloused.

"Alright," she said. And because she was nothing if not masochistic, she added, "maybe you
could even, erm, give me a peck on the cheek afterwards, when we part ways in the Entrance
Hall. If you're comfortable with that, of course."

"Oh," said James, and she swore his cheeks darkened. He ran a hand through his hair. "Er,
yeah, that's a good idea. Yeah."

Why did he look nearly as uncomfortable as she felt? She decided to steer the conversation
into safer waters.

"When should we do this?" she asked matter-of-factly, pulling out her timetable. "I promised
Mary I'd help her with McGonagall's essay on animal conjuration today, and tomorrow will
be jam-packed, even for a Monday, so… Tuesday, after our Potions lesson?"

James shook his head. "I've got Quidditch practice."

"Wednesday, then," she said. "We have a free period in the afternoon."

"That works." He brightened. "I've got an idea, actually."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Don't worry about it," he said, which did nothing to soothe her. "I just thought of a way to
ensure that half of Hogwarts sees our exhibition, that's all. That should dispel any rumours
about us that might have sprung up."

"It's — We are not putting on an exhibition —"

"Gotta go," he said, springing from his seat and shoving the remainder of his toast into his
mouth. "The Marauders and I have Muggle Studies, we're watching a film on a project-tor…"

"Projector," corrected Lily. "And you need to stop calling yourselves that."

But he had already bounded out the door that led to the boys' dormitories. As soon as he was
gone, she slouched in her chair, crossed her arms, and let out a deep breath.

"It's just a walk," she said aloud. "It doesn't mean anything."

But she wanted it to mean something. That was the entire problem.

To her surprise, her eyes filled with tears.

She put her elbows on the table and her face in her hands. "I don't know how much longer I
can do this," she said through her fingers.
James clearly had no issue with pretending. But it wasn't pretending to her, and to be quite
honest —

If she was going to hold his hand for the first time, she wanted to do it for real. Not as part of
a scheme to keep Severus away, damn him.

"Damn him," she said, because just thinking the words wasn't enough. She wiped her eyes,
looking at the ceiling. None of this would be happening if Sev only knew how to respect her
boundaries. Maybe she and James could have courted each other for real.

Well. That wouldn't have changed anything, anyway. It was obvious that James no longer
thought of her romantically. He treated her like a roommate.

I might as well be another Marauder, she thought, and she tried to muster up some additional
scorn about that stupid nickname, but her heart wasn't in it.

Wednesday came before Lily got a chance to ask James how he planned to draw 'half of
Hogwarts' outside the castle. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought he was
avoiding her, but he wasn't nearly subtle enough for that. He'd been genuinely busy, it
appeared — the newest recruits on the Gryffindor Quidditch team must have needed a lot of
training. Or maybe he always practised Quidditch this much, and she'd never noticed.

The bell rang, signalling the end of their Potions lesson. As Lily cleaned her brass scales and
returned them to her bag, she sensed someone standing behind her. She turned; James was
looking expectantly at her.

"Yes?" she said, hoping she sounded convincingly bewildered.

He ran not one hand, but two, through his hopelessly curly hair. "D'you, er, wanna go for a
walk? With me?"

His voice was far louder than it needed to be. He really is a terrible actor, she thought.
"Alright," she said graciously.

At the back of the room, Severus had paused halfway through Vanishing the contents of his
cauldron and was staring at them. Lily pretended she couldn't see him; she extended her
hand, inviting James to take hold of it.

He looked at her hand for a moment, as though uncertain what to do next. Lily's cheeks
began to hurt from the strain of smiling.

"Right," he said at last. "Off we go, then." And he grabbed her hand as though she were a
small child and pulled her from the room.

Lily didn't need to look back at Severus to know that he was glaring.

"James," she said once they were alone. He was still towing her down the corridor, which
was hardly romantic; she thought he might pull her arm from its socket.

He glanced back at her. "Yeah?"

Criticising his hand-holding technique might hurt his feelings, so she chose her words
carefully. "Why don't we try it like this, instead?" She stepped forward, so that they were
standing side-by-side, and manipulated his hand so that his fingers were laced through hers.
Her heartbeat quickened at the way his hand fit with hers; warm, reassuring, nearly twice the
size of her own. And he did have callouses.

"Ah," said James, looking at their intertwined hands. He appeared lost for words, but after a
moment he shook himself and grinned at her. "That is better, isn't it? Thanks."

"Of course," she said as they began to walk down the dungeon corridor. "Where are we off to,
anyway?" As if she didn't already know.

"I thought we'd take a stroll around the lake."

"That sounds lovely," she said. They emerged from the dungeons, and she caught sight of a
gaggle of third-year Hufflepuffs sprinting across the Entrance Hall. "No running in the
castle!" she said, snapping her fingers at them.

The Hufflepuffs glanced at her and marginally slowed their pace, though they broke into a
sprint again as soon as they reached the large oak doors that led onto the grounds.

Lily shook her head. "Does their excitement have anything to do with your little distraction?"

James looked proud. "They must have heard about the Giant Squid."

"Don't tell me you've done something awful to that poor creature," she said. "It's on the
Ministry's endangered list, you know, there's only a handful in all of Britain —"

"Awful? Hardly," said James. "I only suggested to Sirius that he teach it tricks."

He led her down to the lake, his rough hand confidently gripping hers. A small crowd had
gathered on the bank of the lake; the third-year Hufflepuffs who had rushed past Lily and
James in the Entrance Hall were now standing on their tiptoes at the back of the crowd,
craning their necks for a glimpse of the lake. Hovering high above the water was a dark-
haired figure on a broomstick, a bucket dangling off the end of his broom.

"Bathsheba! Jump!" called Sirius from his broomstick. He pulled a pair of fish out of the
bucket and dangled them above the water.

Nothing happened.

"Not much of an animal trainer, is he?" remarked Lily.

Then the water's placid surface began to shimmer, and the Giant Squid burst from the lake,
arcing through the air. At the height of its leap, one large tentacle reached for Sirius, who
dropped the fish he was holding. The tentacle curled slowly, almost lazily, around the fish,
and the squid sank back into the depths of the lake.

The crowd on the bank cheered. Beside Lily, James whistled. He dropped her hand and began
to clap appreciatively.
"Impressive, isn't it?" he asked her.

Lily couldn't keep herself from smiling. "If you and your mates would put an ounce of your
brilliance towards anything other than fucking around…"

"Fucking around is what we're best at," said James proudly. The Giant Squid raised a dozen
of its tentacles above the water, and Sirius wove between them, to the delight of the crowd.

"Come on," said James, and Lily tensed as he took her by the hand again. This second time
went much better than the first; he slid his fingers effortlessly into hers, as if he'd done it
hundreds of times.

Don't get excited, she reminded herself firmly. We're only pretending.

They strolled around the perimeter, watching Sirius put the Giant Squid through its paces: he
had apparently taught it to come when called, roll over, and even play dead. This last trick
lost a bit of its lustre, however, when Hagrid barrelled to the edge of the lake and threw
himself in, beside himself at the creature's supposed death.

"Hagrid, it's alright!" yelled Sirius, waving his arms. "Bathsheba's not really dead, look…"

Lily snorted. She met James' eyes, who looked similarly amused. He squeezed her hand,
sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. She was seized with the urge to say something,
anything, to prolong the moment, but her mind was suddenly blank.

The castle bells began to toll, breaking whatever spell he had on her. "Shall we head back?"
she asked.

"Probably," said James. "Unless you feel like skiving off Transfiguration…"

"After all the work I did on that animal conjuration essay? You're mad."

"Good point," said James. "Shame, though; I could do this all day."

Lily wasn't sure what he meant by that, and she didn't trust herself to read into it. To avoid
having to respond, she looked across the grounds, where Remus and Peter were pulling a
waterlogged Hagrid out of the lake.

"Wait," said James once they had reached the Entrance Hall. Students streamed around them,
chattering excitedly about the show Sirius had put on.

Lily turned. "What?"

"This is where we'll be parting ways, I believe."

"But we've got Transfiguration —"

James smiled, looking slightly rueful. "I promised the Marauders I'd help them put Bathsheba
down for its afternoon nap."
"Its… nap?"

"It likes to be sung to," he said, as though that was sufficient explanation. "I'll catch you later
— nice walking with you, Lily."

He tugged on her hand, just hard enough to pull her slightly closer, and brushed his lips
across her cheek.

Lily's heart thrummed as he slipped out the great oak doors of the Entrance Hall. Her face felt
like it was on fire, and she was well aware that people were staring. A nearby pair of
Ravenclaws giggled, whispering to each other.

She hoped they found James' little display convincing. That was the whole point, after all. As
gentle as that kiss had been, as tender as his lips had felt against her cheek, it certainly hadn't
been borne out of any real affection. No matter how much she wished otherwise, he was just
holding up his end of the bargain.

Did he even know what he was doing to her?

Later that week, Severus was slinking through the dungeons when his way was suddenly
blocked by an enormous silver stag.

He tried to go around it, but the stag lowered its antlers in a way that could only be
interpreted as threatening, even for an ethereal being.

"What is the meaning of this?" he snapped, drawing his wand.

To his surprise, the stag actually replied.

"We need to talk."

Severus groaned. The voice coming from the stag's mouth was unmistakable; it belonged to
none other than James Potter.

"I wasn't aware that Patronuses could speak," he said.

The stag ignored him. "Meet me at the top of the Astronomy tower. Midnight tonight."

"Are you out of your mind?" he said. "I am not meeting you alone at the Astronomy tower
like — like a couple of star-crossed lovers —" James would probably take the opportunity to
murder him, then toss him over the parapet, if their previous encounters were anything to go
by.

"See you then," said the stag, uncaring. Perhaps it could only say what it had been told.
"No, you won't," said Severus, but the stag had already dissipated into silver mist, its
message delivered.

He drew his wand, though he wasn't quite sure what to do with it once he had it out. Despite
his general magical prowess, he couldn't yet cast a Patronus. He'd tried, of course; earlier in
the term, he'd spent days practising, hoping to impress the new Defence teacher, but the
charm had eluded him.

That was before he'd figured out that Professor Prewett was insufferable. The new professor
hadn't even had the decency to act surprised that Severus was struggling with the spell, which
had subsequently ruined Severus' motivation to master it. Professor Prewett probably thought
that all Slytherins were too evil for the Patronus Charm — as if a spell could care about the
purity of its caster's heart. Ridiculous, really.

In the dungeon corridor, Severus forced himself to think of a happy memory. The moment he
realised Mulciber had been expelled would do nicely.

"Expecto Patronum."

He might as well have spoken a string of gibberish; his wand remained inert in his hand.

Severus swore, though he hadn't really expected anything better. Even if he could cast a
Patronus, he had no idea how to make one talk. There had been nothing about making a
Patronus speak in all the books he'd read on them. He half-suspected that the speech thing
was a Potter invention, which in itself was infuriating. Of course Potter would improve upon
the famously-difficult-to-master Patronus Charm.

Gnashing his teeth, he turned on his heel and stalked to the Owlery. He had a very irate letter
to send.

Potter,

I am sorry to report that I have declined your pony's invitation. Hopefully this doesn't come
as a surprise, even to an idiot such as yourself — we both know I would never voluntarily
spend time alone with the likes of you. Kindly do us all a favour and drown yourself in the
Black Lake.

Respectfully,

Severus Snape

As soon as Severus pushed open the door to his dormitory that evening, something jerked
horribly around his navel, and he was pulled upside-down into the air.

He scrambled to draw his wand as he dangled there, the blood rushing to his head. "Using my
own spell against me?" he snarled, and he sent a jet of red light through the dormitory at
random.

James Potter stepped around Severus' four-poster bed, looking maddeningly unruffled.
"Expelliarmus," he said, sounding bored, and Severus' wand was pulled from his grasp.
Severus' eyes darted around the darkened dormitory, hoping one of his housemates would
emerge from the shadows and come to his aid. But no — he and James were completely
alone.

"What do you want," Severus spat. As if he didn't already know. James and Sirius had cursed
that unfortunate first-year Slytherin, and now they were after him: their oldest, most favourite
target. "If you've come to curse me, then get it over with, you —"

"Relax, Snivellus," said James as Severus twisted uselessly in the air. "Nobody's cursing
anyone tonight."

"Give me back my wand, and we'll see about that."

"You're pleasant as always," said James. "No, I don't think I will. Not till we talk, at least."

"I am not talking to you."

"Is that right? What're you doing now, then?"

Severus glared at him. "I hate you."

"The feeling's mutual," said James coolly. "I'll make this quick then. I just need your word
that you won't repeat what you did to poor Owen Stickley."

Severus stopped struggling. "Stickley?"

"Don't play stupid," said James. "You can't pull it off."

"I didn't do anything to Stickley. You did."

"Me?" James laughed incredulously.

"Of course you did! That's what this is about, isn't it? You and Black decided to have a bit of
fun with him, but you went too far, as always, and now you're here to pin your despicable
deeds on me. Well, it won't work. Torture me all you want, but I will not be framed by a half-
wit like you."

James' jaw dropped. "You're mental."

"I'm right, and you know it."

"Right? Own Stickley was cut to ribbons! Only one of us knows a spell like that, and it's not
me." To prove his point, James pulled down the neck of his robe, exposing the long, thin scar
across his clavicle.

Severus sneered, which was difficult to do while upside-down. "There's no need to pretend
with me. You found a spell that, to the untrained eye, looks vaguely like Sectumsempra, and
you nearly killed that first-year student with it. Admit it."

"I…" James looked at a loss for words. "You don't honestly believe that, do you?"
"Dumbledore might think you're some noble, perfect Head Boy, but you and I both know the
truth. You love torturing Slytherins, you always have. That doesn't change just because
you've got a badge."

James sank onto Severus' bed as if he owned it. He looked strangely perplexed. "Alright,
Snape," he said at last. "I'm only going to say this once, so I hope those massive ears of yours
are listening. I didn't hurt Owen Stickley."

"Then who did? Helga Hufflepuff? If the shoe fits, Potter…"

"You did!" exclaimed James. "Obviously, it was you!"

"That," said Severus coldly, "is utter fantasy."

"Is it? You've been slinking around for years with your Death Eater pals, crossing the line
when you think nobody's looking. This is only your latest stunt, and you're lucky Owen's not
dead, but I won't let this happen again. I won't. If you can't reign yourself in, I'm going to
have you expelled. I will not let you wander the castle trying to murder half-bloods."

Only James Potter could be so wrong and so arrogant about it. "Jumping to conclusions, as
always," said Severus, though the bite to his voice was tempered by the fact that he was still
upside-down in the air. "Can't say I'm surprised; logic has never been your strong suit. Did it
not occur to you that you lack any proof whatsoever that I was involved?"

"Proof?" said James. "Who needs proof when it's obvious that it was you?"

"I expect the Headmaster will need a bit more substance than your gut feelings if he is going
to have me expelled."

James ran a hand angrily through his hair. "Fine. Give me proof, then."

Severus blinked. "What?"

"If you're as innocent as you say, then give me some proof."

Severus had always known James was an imbecile, but this was a new low, even for him. "I
hate to break it to you, Potter, but seeing as you are the one making these accusations against
me, the burden of proof rests on your shoulders. Not mine."

James' shoulders slumped, but only for a moment. "I've got it," he said, brightening. He
pulled out Severus' wand and placed it atop the bed, then pointed his own wand at it. "Priori
incantatem."

The Wand-Memory Charm, Severus realised. He was suddenly very glad that he hadn't used
any of his nastier inventions lately. He hadn't jinxed anyone since last June, and had barely
used any magic over the summer holidays; all James would get from his wand were an
assortment of Hogwarts-sanctioned charms.

Severus watched, upside-down by the door, as echoes of previously-cast spells rose from the
tip of his wand. There was the Gemino Curse, which they'd been practising in Charms, as
well as several spells that McGonagall had assigned as homework. Interspersed with these
were echoes of his own voice, uselessly chanting "Expecto Patronum".

After a few minutes of this, James turned to Severus, his brow furrowed. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Where's that Semper spell you used on Owen?"

"Sectumsempra," corrected Severus with a sneer. "How many times do I have to repeat
myself, Potter? I didn't curse Stickley."

"Rubbish," said James. "The wand just hasn't gone far enough back yet."

"Are you always this incapable of changing your mind when confronted with new evidence?
Hard as it may be to believe, I'm innocent. I would appreciate if you'd let me down, by the
way." Being upside-down for so long was making his head pound.

"And I'd appreciate if you washed that greasy hair of yours once in a while. But we can't
always get what we want, can we?"

Severus snarled and lashed out, grasping useless fistfuls of air, nowhere near close enough to
reach James. "Say that one more time, you coward."

"Gladly," said James. "I'd appreciate if you —"

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream rose from Severus' wand, and Severus grew cold as ice.

"Aha!" James leapt up and jabbed an accusing finger at the wand. "That's Owen Stickley, isn't
it? I knew it —"

"No," muttered Severus, but the shrieks from his wand drowned out his voice.

"No! Sev, NO! How could you!"

From the tip of his wand rose a dark, familiar figure. A smoky, translucent version of James
Potter hung in the air between Severus and the real James. Black ichor poured from wounds
on the conjured James' chest; he stared blankly down, then toppled over, vanishing in a haze
of smoke.

Lily's screams still hung in the air around them.

"That —" said James, looking alarmed. "That was —"

"That was you, yes," said Severus sardonically. "I expect you recognised yourself; you spend
enough time staring at your reflection in the mirror, after all…"

"No," said James, shaking his head. "That voice — the girl who was screaming... that was
Lily?"
Severus gritted his teeth. "Obviously." Admitting that was more painful than he'd expected;
he felt like several daggers had slipped between his ribs, making it difficult to breathe.

James looked stunned. "She was that upset… about me?"

The self-centredness was remarkable, even for James Potter. Heaven forbid the universe not
revolve around him for a single instant.

"She was upset about me," Severus corrected. He tried to sound as condescending as possible,
though it was difficult to get the upper hand when he was still upside-down in mid-air. "She
was upset that I… that I crossed a line and hurt someone. That it was you who I hurt was
secondary. Barely a factor."

James didn't respond for a moment. Then he gave Severus a look he'd never seen before —
not from James Potter, at least. It wasn't loathing or disgust that creased his brow; it was pity.

"What did Lily ever see in you?" asked James. He sounded genuinely baffled.

Severus refused to let him see how much that stung. "She's your girlfriend, isn't she? Ask her
yourself."

James' shoulders drew together briefly, then relaxed. "Nah," he said, sounding nonchalant.
"We don't talk about stuff like that. Too busy shagging, you know."

How dare he. Severus' core tightened with fury. "Do not speak about her that way. As if she's
your… your plaything, a mere physical diversion, when she deserves…"

"Don't tell me she deserves you," said James, sounding bored. He stretched, then ambled
towards the door to the dormitory. "Guess you were telling the truth after all about Owen
Stickley, huh? That's odd. I could have sworn it was you."

"Add it to the list of things you're mistaken about," snapped Severus. "Should be quite a long
one by now, given that it's you we're talking about…"

James strolled out of the dormitory, leaving Severus in the air and Severus' wand on his bed,
some fifteen feet away.

"Get back here, Potter," snarled Severus, though of course James didn't obey. He twisted
uselessly in the air, trying to see where James had gone, but James had already vanished up
the glistening, mossy stone stairs that led to the Slytherin common room. "At least give me
my wand! My WAND, Potter!"

Avery found him two hours later and promptly ran to get Regulus.

"What happened?" asked Regulus as soon as he'd lifted the charm and gotten Severus upright.

Severus' head was throbbing from spending so much time upside-down. There was a special
sort of indignity that came from being strung upside-down for hours by your own spell. He
would have to come up with a countercharm for Levicorpus that didn't require a wand.
"Hogwarts’ Head Boy hasn't changed, despite his shiny new badge," said Severus, rubbing
his temples.

"James Potter did this?" Regulus' eyes widened. "Did he try to attack you, too?"

"Attack? Hardly."

Regulus looked relieved. "Good. You ought to be more careful from now on — after what
Potter did to Stickley, I wouldn't put it past him to do even worse to us."

"About that," said Severus. "Potter is likely innocent."

"Innocent? But how…?"

"He thought I was the one who cursed Stickley," said Severus. "He'd convinced himself of it,
the half-wit. Couldn't be persuaded otherwise… at least, not until he cast Priori incantatem
on my wand."

Regulus looked thoughtful. "He could have been pretending. Maybe he was hoping to find
something incriminating and frame you for what he did to Stickley."

"The same thought occurred to me," admitted Severus. "But I doubt it. Potter is not intelligent
enough to be a convincing actor. He truly believed that I cursed him."

"Strange." Regulus was holding himself very still, thinking hard.

"What's strange?" asked Avery.

"Nothing," said Regulus. "Fetch my Gobstones set, would you, Edmund? We can play a few
rounds before bed."

Avery scurried out of the dormitory, and Regulus turned to Severus, his expression solemn. "I
spoke to Rudolph Brand and Emma Vanity today," he said.

"And?"

Regulus gave a little shake of his head. "They had nothing to do with what happened to
Stickley."

"You're certain of this?"

Regulus' grey eyes were devoid of all emotion as they met Severus'. "Legilimency is not as
difficult as Bella makes it seem," he said. "I've spent all week inside our housemates' heads,
and they're as clueless as we are. Nobody in Slytherin had a hand in cursing Stickley."

"But he was attacked in our common room," said Severus. "I thought only Slytherins and the
Head Boy and Girl know the password. Unless the other prefects are privy to that
information?"

"They aren't," said Regulus. "Puzzling, isn't it?"

Severus nodded. "It worries me."

He hated admitting he was worried — such a sign of weakness — but there was no denying
that the situation was troubling. They were no closer to catching who was responsible than
when they'd started. The culprit could strike again, and Severus would have no way of
stopping it.
 Behind Closed Doors

The remainder of October went by in a blur, and by Halloween, the leaves on the trees had
turned from vibrant oranges and reds to brittle golden-brown. Severus was surprised at how
quickly time passed when he kept his head down. Sneaking around with the other Followers,
as he'd done in previous years, had made every day seem vitally important, a matter of life
and death. This year, things were different; his weeks were measured by homework and
lessons, not clandestine gatherings in Dungeon Thirteen and agonising bonding activities.

The uneventful days of magical education blended into one another, so similar to his early
years at Hogwarts, and he found himself yearning for the days when his biggest concern had
been whether or not Slughorn would invite him to join the Slug Club. He might have even
fooled himself into thinking that he was just one student among many, if it weren't for the
mystery of Owen Stickley's attacker.

"Where's Avery?" he asked, joining Regulus for the Halloween feast.

Regulus took a careful bite of baked pumpkin. "I thought he was with you."

Severus shook his head. "I haven't seen him since History of Magic. Didn't you take him
flying before the feast?"

"We went flying on Friday," said Regulus. "You're getting your days mixed up again."

That was possible, but Severus wasn't about to admit it. "I seem to recall that, according to
Avery at least, you two would be playing Quidditch this afternoon."

Regulus set down his fork and pushed his plate away, looking worried. "He told me you'd be
helping him write his essay on eleventh-century alchemy."

A very unpleasant thought crept, spider-like, into Severus' brain. "Edmund gets confused on
occasion…"

"Not like this." Regulus shook his head. "He doesn't lie."

Severus gave voice to the terrible suspicion in his mind. "Do you remember the attack on that
unfortunate first year last month?"

Regulus' mouth hardened into a line. "The one that nearly got us both expelled? That only
could have been done by a Slytherin?"

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Severus leapt from his seat and tore out of the
Great Hall, Regulus close at his heels.

They burst into the Slytherin common room at the same time. A blazing emerald fire danced
in the hearth; its brilliant green light silhouetted the figure in the centre of the common room,
whose outstretched wand pointed at another, smaller person cowering on the floor…
Severus and Regulus raised their wands simultaneously. "Expelliarmus!"

With the deftness of a Seeker, Regulus plucked Avery's wand from the air. Avery turned,
startled.

"Sev? Reg?" He giggled nervously. "You're not supposed to be here…"

"Neither are you," snapped Severus. "Stupefy!"

The jet of red light knocked Avery backwards. He collided with the wall, barely missing the
sharp edge of the mantel, and slumped to the floor.

Regulus was already kneeling next to the victim, who was curled on the rug, unmoving.
"Salazar's fangs," he whispered, rolling the student over. "It's Albert Jenkins — he's a third-
year, I helped him find the Divination classroom once…"

"Half-blood?" asked Severus.

"Yes. More than half." Suddenly, Regulus drew in a sharp breath, and he jerked his hand
away from Jenkins’ body as though he'd been burned. Blood glistened on his palm. "He's
bleeding, Severus. Can you heal him?"

Severus' eyes swept over the wounds. He could practically feel the Dark magic oozing from
them. "Unlikely. Even I have my limitations. Where Avery learned this curse, I can't
fathom…"

"I'll get Madam Pomfrey," said Regulus, scrambling upright. "He's not as badly hurt as
Stickley was, it's a good thing we arrived when we did…"

"Wait," said Severus. He pointed at Albert Jenkins’ prone form. "Obliviate him."

Regulus blanched. "What?"

"You heard me," said Severus. "He'll incriminate Avery as soon as he wakes up. Make him
forget that Avery was involved."

Regulus' features hardened. "No."

"We don't have time to argue about this."

"Edmund betrayed us! I'm not about to — to cover for him, even if he is a Follower —"

"Do you really think Avery acted on his own initiative?" asked Severus.

Regulus fell silent.

"He can't even cast Alohomora without help anymore," said Severus. "Let alone performing
magic like this. Someone taught him this curse. I'm certain of it."
Regulus' eyes flickered towards Avery, who was crumpled in a heap in a corner of the
common room. "But… who would do such a thing?"

"We'll find out," said Severus darkly. "Obliviate Jenkins before he bleeds out, will you?"

For a moment, Regulus was very still. Then he placed his wand to Jenkins’ temple, his hand
trembling. He bent low over the body, whispering in his ear as he cast the spell. After a few
minutes, he rose shakily, stowing his wand.

"Done," he said flatly.

"Thank you," said Severus.

Regulus didn't acknowledge his gratitude. "I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey."

"Good," said Severus. "I'll take Avery to Dungeon Thirteen. Meet us there when you can."

He levitated Avery's body to Dungeon Thirteen and settled down to wait. After nearly an
hour, the gilded door opened as Regulus slipped inside.

"Edmund's still unconscious?" asked Regulus, looking at Avery, who was stretched out on the
sofa.

Severus shrugged. "I may have Stunned him a few more times. Didn't want him to come
around until you get here."

Regulus' silence held more disapproval than a retort ever would.

"Oh, don't be sanctimonious," snapped Severus. "Now was not the moment to take chances."

"His mind is addled. You might have hurt him."

"And if he'd woken up while you were still gone, and managed to hit me with the curse he
used on Jenkins?" Severus shook his head. "No. Better we face him together."

Even Regulus couldn't argue with that logic. "Fine," he said shortly. "Well, I'm back now,
aren't I? Let's wake him up."

Severus nodded curtly, then turned his wand on Avery's slack face. "Rennervate."

Avery's eyelids fluttered. "Sev?" he said weakly, looking between them. "Reg?"

Severus kept his wand trained on Avery's head. Regulus crouched beside Avery, his voice
gentle. "What happened, Edmund? Why did you curse that poor third-year?"

Avery struggled to sit up. "Had to." He winced. "My head hurts."

Regulus gave Severus a scathing glance. Severus rolled his eyes.

Regulus turned his attention back to Avery. "What do you mean, you had to?"
"He's a Mudblood," said Avery, as though it was obvious.

Severus' body acted before his mind could catch up. He stepped forward, rage coursing
through his veins. "Do not use that word in front of me." He raised his wand threateningly,
and Avery shrunk into the sofa cushions.

"Severus!" hissed Regulus.

Severus ignored him. "There's no excuse for that word. And even if there were, Jenkins is a
half-blood, not a Muggle-born."

"He's —" said Avery weakly. "He's as good as —"

There was a nasty hex on the tip of Severus' tongue, but Regulus did something brave for
perhaps the first time in his miserable life and positioned himself between Severus and Avery.
"Don't mind him, Edmund," he said in a soothing voice. "He's just angry, that's all. He won't
hurt you."

After a moment, Avery nodded, still watching Severus warily.

"You lied to us," said Severus. "You nearly got us expelled. Was I not clear that we don't want
any trouble this year? Were my wishes not explicit?"

Avery gulped.

"You disobeyed, Edmund. Do you know what we do to people who disobey?"

Fat tears began to roll down Avery's cheeks. "Didn't want to," he said pitifully. "Had to."

"Well, I don't want to punish you." Severus tightened his grip on his wand. "But looks like I'll
have to. That's how this works, doesn't it, Edmund?"

Regulus forced his arm down. "No, Severus," he said forcefully. "Aren't you listening?"

"Aren't you? If you think I'll let him go unpunished, after what he's done — after that word he
used —"

Regulus shook his head. "We're missing something. Something important." He turned to
Avery, frowning. "Edmund. Help us understand."

Avery was still crying. He wiped at his eyes with both fists, like a child. "Had to. Heard a
voice… a nasty voice… it made me…"

Severus' insides went cold. Impossible. Who would dare…?

Regulus turned to Severus, dumbfounded. "The Imperius Curse." He put a hand on Avery's
shoulder. "Is that what happened, Edmund? Were you Imperiused?"

In between sniffles, Avery nodded.

Severus sank slowly into the armchair opposite Avery. "Who did it? Did you get a glimpse of
them?" He tried to sound as softly persuasive as Regulus did.

"Dunno," said Avery miserably. "Didn't see. Was walking down the corridor when I heard it.
You were there," he added, looking to Regulus.

Regulus looked startled. "I was?"

Avery nodded. "After the prefect meeting, the first one. We were on our way to dinner. I
dropped my patrol schedule," he added, as though Regulus was sure to remember that detail.

"Of course," muttered Severus as the pieces clicked into place. "The attack on Owen Stickley
happened just after that, didn't it? Were you behind that one, as well, Edmund?"

Avery's shoulders tightened around his ears, suddenly fearful. "Will I be in trouble?"

"No," said Severus reluctantly. "Not with us, at least."

Avery chewed on his lip. "He was the first. After I did it, the voice went away. But it came
back today."

"Can you hear the voice now?" asked Regulus.

Avery shook his head.

"Well, that's good, at least," said Regulus. "Will you tell us if you hear the voice again,
Edmund?"

"That's not how the Imperius Curse works, and you know it," snapped Severus.

"It's not as if you've got any better ideas," said Regulus icily, his tone devoid of the
tenderness he'd been saving for Avery.

Severus sighed in frustration. This was unacceptable. Somebody in the castle was using
Unforgivable Curses, and there was no telling what they'd command Avery to do next, or
when they'd strike. Avery might be harmless now, but what about in ten minutes? What about
overnight? He and Regulus would have to guard him — watch him like a hawk, lest he slip
away to torture more half-bloods and Muggle-borns.

Regulus seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "This could happen again," he said,
turning to Severus. "Isn't there a way to break the Imperius Curse?"

"There is," said Severus shortly, "but it won't help in Edmund's case."

"Well, why not? We ought to at least try —"

Severus gritted his teeth. "The only way to circumvent the Imperius Curse is for the victim to
end the spell using sheer strength of will. How much strength of will has Edmund got, do you
reckon?"
Regulus took a moment to digest this, but even he couldn't deny that the chances of Avery
breaking the curse on his own were nil. "You're certain there's no other way?"

"If there is, wizarding Britain hasn't discovered it yet," said Severus. He rose from his chair
and made to leave Dungeon Thirteen.

"Where are you going?" asked Regulus sharply.

Severus paused with his hand on the door handle. "To the library. If I'm going to invent an
antidote to the Imperius Curse, I'll need to do some research."

Regulus' perfect posture sagged just a little. "Is that really our only option?"

"Unless you can think of something better," said Severus. "Watch Edmund until I return. If he
starts acting funny or tries to leave, use the Full Body Bind Curse. Don't give him the benefit
of the doubt." He punctuated that statement with his most threatening glare.

Regulus nodded, resigned. "We're going to have to keep an eye on him from now on, aren't
we?"

"Unfortunately," said Severus. "I hope you don't need much sleep."

"Why's that?"

"Because until we figure this out, we're not going to get any." The two of them would have to
guard Avery twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Severus felt exhausted already.

The next morning, Remus woke to a searing pain in his right calf. He gritted his teeth until
the agony passed, then relaxed into the infirmary cot he'd spent most of the past week lying
in. The full moon had been nearly seven days ago, but he'd badly mangled his tibia as the
wolf. So far, mending the bone hadn't worked, and neither had regrowing it, but that didn't
stop Madam Pomfrey from pouring a different variation of Skele-Gro down his throat every
night.

The curtain around his cot rattled as Madam Pomfrey pulled it open. "Well?" she asked.

Remus grimaced. "It still feels… funny. Painful, too — I just had another spasm."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips and gave his leg a stern look, as though it were misbehaving
on purpose. "I'm increasing your dose of Skele-Gro," she said, then pulled his curtain shut
and strode away before he could protest.

Remus made a face. He was already guzzling nearly a cauldron of the stuff every night; he
doubted taking even more would help matters. Resolving to tell Madam Pomfrey about his
hesitations whenever she next returned to check on him, he rolled over on the cot, hoping to
at least get a few more minutes of sleep.

The curtains whisked open again.

"I don't need more Skele-Gro," said Remus without opening his eyes.

"Is that so?" said a jaunty, decidedly male voice.

Remus' eyes flew open. Sirius was grinning at him.

"Er, hi, Padfoot," he said awkwardly. He looked past the curtain, expecting to see James and
Peter, but Sirius had apparently come alone. What did that mean? He hadn't been alone with
Sirius since…

Since that humiliating day near the start of term, when he'd told Sirius to stop flirting with
him. The mere memory made Remus want to throw the threadbare sheets over his head and
hide.

"Hello yourself." Sirius perched at the end of Remus' cot. "Sleeping in, are we?"

Remus pushed himself up reluctantly. "Not much else to do, seeing as my leg refuses to
behave."

"Yes, well, that's what happens when one gets shoved into the Whomping Willow," said
Sirius.

"Is that what happened?" asked Remus. His memories as the wolf were always a little fuzzy.
"I assumed I'd simply tried to chew my leg off. Again."

Sirius waggled a finger at him. "You were trying to get into the castle, naughty Moony.
Prongs had to push you into the Willow before you'd stop."

Remus tried to sound disapproving. "You lot shouldn't let me get that close to Hogwarts. One
of these days there'll be a close call, and —"

"There's already been plenty of those," said Sirius with a wink. "We just don't tell you about
them."

A burning, cramp-like pain shot up Remus' leg, and he sucked in an involuntary breath. The
gesture wasn't lost on Sirius; he tensed, brow furrowing with concern.

"Does it hurt?"

"Just a bit," admitted Remus. He tried to sound casual, as if the pain was a minor
inconvenience instead of an agonising ache. "So the Willow did this to me, did it? It's hard to
believe that tree hasn't killed anyone yet."

"It has a special affinity for you, I think."

"Lucky me." Remus still didn't know why Sirius had come to visit him alone, but this
conversation was going surprisingly well. It felt like — like things were back to normal. As if
their conversation in the dormitory had never happened.

Sirius was still frowning at Remus' leg. "Has Madam Pomfrey tried adding a bit of
Camphirated Spirit to your potions?"

"Er," said Remus. "I don't think so."

"Suggest it to her," said Sirius. "It's good for crushed bones."

Remus gave him a suspicious look. "Since when are you a Healer?"

Sirius shrugged. "I've been on the wrong end of the Whomping Willow enough times."

That was true enough. Sometimes Remus swore James and Sirius antagonised the tree on
purpose.

"Anyway," said Sirius, "we have important business to discuss."

Remus blinked. "We do?" he said cautiously.

"Of course we do!" said Sirius, grabbing Remus' leg — not the injured one, mercifully. "It's
my birthday in two days, and I haven't the foggiest idea what to do for a party!"

"Oh," said Remus, relieved. He was glad that the matter Sirius wanted to discuss was party
business and not their… relationship. Friendship, he corrected himself. We're friends. That's
all.

"Perhaps something in London?" he offered, as Sirius clearly expected him to contribute

ideas.

Sirius scoffed. "London is boring."

"Er, alright," said Remus. "What about another theme park? We went to that place in
Lancashire for your birthday last year, you seemed to enjoy that…"

"No theme parks." Sirius shook his head. "Nothing Muggle-related this year. I'm tired of their
entertainment — they're so dull, Moony."

"Dull?" That didn't sound like the Sirius that Remus knew. Sirius was fascinated by Muggles.

"Terribly dull." Sirius let out an exaggerated yawn. "I'm a wizard, so I need a magical party.
End of discussion."

Remus said nothing. It occurred to him that Sirius was overcompensating for the time he
admitted he'd been attracted to Dorcas.

"It's alright if you like Muggle things," said Remus carefully.

"I don't, though," said Sirius. He even sounded like he believed it.

"What about Elvendork?" Remus asked, referring to Sirius' motorbike.

"Ah." Sirius thought for a moment. "Well, technically, Elvendork is magical, too, right?
Muggle motorbikes don't fly, after all."

Remus could tell he wasn't going to get anywhere with Sirius being so stubborn. "Alright," he
said, settling back among his pillows. "You win. Nothing Muggle-related this year — that
should be easy enough to accomplish."

Sirius beamed.

After half an hour of discussion, they were no closer to figuring out where to have Sirius
Black's eighteenth birthday party, but they had at least narrowed it down to twenty-four
possibilities.

"What about the Isle of Man?" asked Remus. "I hear there's a colony of ogres there, could be
a laugh if we stumble upon them…"

"Add it to the list," said Sirius grandly. "I bet ogres love a good birthday celebration, don't
they?"

"I think I read something of the sort in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," said
Remus, and Sirius laughed.

Madam Pomfrey's heels clicked against the stone floor of the hospital wing. "Remus? Have
you got company?"

Sirius jumped off the cot. "I'd better be off — didn't exactly get permission to visit." He
grinned widely at Remus.

You are beautiful, Remus thought. Out loud, he said, "Come back soon, will you? I'm dying
of boredom in here."

Sirius suddenly looked uncertain. "You're sure?" he asked, fidgeting a little.

"That I'm dying of boredom? Yes."

"Ha," said Sirius, without any real humour. "No, I mean — you want me to visit again?"

Sirius' expression was so hesitant that it made Remus' heart ache. He hadn't been pushing
Sirius away that firmly, had he?

"Of course I want you to come back," said Remus. "You're my best mate."

Sirius looked delighted. "I'll visit tomorrow after dinner, and we'll narrow my birthday
options down to fifteen. How's that sound?"

"I'm looking forward to it," said Remus.

Sirius beamed, then vanished behind the curtain.

"Sirius Black," came Madam Pomfrey's stern voice, "Remus is ill — he is not to have visitors
—"

Remus smiled as she set a tray full of potions at his bedside. Things between him and Sirius
were back to normal. That alone was worth ten helpings of Skele-Gro.

To Remus' surprise, a bit of Camphirated Spirit in his Skele-Gro did go a long way towards
relieving the pain in his leg, so much so that by the following evening, Madam Pomfrey had
discharged him from the hospital wing.

Excellent, thought Remus as he climbed the many flights of stairs that led to the Gryffindor
common room. Sirius hadn't come to visit him after dinner, but he was trying not to read too
much into that — perhaps by 'after dinner', he'd meant 'closer to midnight', in which case he
would be pleasantly surprised to find Remus already discharged from the hospital wing.

It was difficult to worry too much, anyway, now that his tibia had been regrown and his
relationship with Sirius was back to normal. Whatever had held Sirius up, it had nothing to
do with Remus, so it was nothing to dwell on.

"Lupin!"

Remus turned; Professor Prewett was climbing the stairs below him, looking excited.

"I've found us a boggart," said Professor Prewett, adjusting the violet scarf around his neck as
he joined Remus on the landing. "Not my first choice for practising the Patronus Charm, of
course, but it'll do in a pinch. It's hiding in a clock in Professor Vablatsky's office — he's
given me permission to take care of it. I don't suppose you have a free moment, now, do
you?"

"I…" Remus hesitated. His tibia might have been in one piece, but his joints were as bad as
ever, and the Divination professor's office was all the way at the top of the North Tower.
Besides, failing to cast a Patronus didn't sound like a pleasant way to spend his first free
evening after being stuck in the hospital wing for a week.

Professor Prewett must have sensed Remus' apprehension, because his smile faded a little.
"Of course, if another time would work better for you…"

Remus pulled himself together. Professor Prewett was going above and beyond to help him;
it would be wrong to reject the offer just because he was tired. "Now is fine," he said, trying
to sound chipper. "You caught me by surprise, that's all."

On their way to the North Tower, Professor Prewett took each flight of stairs slower than the
last, which Remus begrudgingly appreciated, as he didn't have to struggle to keep pace.
Finally, they reached Professor Vablatsky's office, which was up a small staircase from the
Divination classroom. The Divination professor apparently wasn't above a few creature
comforts: empty sweets wrappers littered the desk, and there was a row of Firewhisky along
one shelf that rivalled Slughorn's collection.

In the corner of the office was a handsome grandfather clock, which Remus supposed was the
boggart's hiding place. The clock's face was inscribed with symbols instead of numerals, and
as Remus drew closer, he realised that each symbol depicted an omen. He forced himself not
to look at the Jinx, which was in the top centre of the clock, where the number twelve would
have been.

Though the grandfather clock had been silent when Remus approached it, it began to rattle
threateningly as Professor Prewett stepped forward.

"Right," said Professor Prewett, not put off in the slightest. "You've dealt with boggarts
before, I believe, Lupin?"

Remus nodded. "We practised repelling one during our fourth year, sir."

"Excellent," said Professor Prewett. "You'll have an easier time keeping your wits about you,
then. Focus on the Patronus Charm, even if the boggart frightens you — I'll step in if things
go awry, so no need to fret."

Remus nodded and drew his wand. Privately, he didn't see how practising on a boggart would
help him learn the Patronus charm; his boggart took the form of the moon, which would
hardly be threatened by a Patronus.

He pointed his wand at the grandfather clock, about to open its bevelled glass door, but
Professor Prewett stepped in front of him. "I forgot to mention," he said. "You'll be dealing
with my boggart."

Remus blinked. "Yours, sir?"

Professor Prewett nodded. "My boggart happens to take the form of a Dark creature. You
remember why this is important, I presume?"

Remus thought back to their recent Defence lessons. "The Patronus Charm is effective
against most Dark creatures — although the extent depends on the creature in question.
Dementors and Lethifolds are most affected by it, and Hinkypunks barely pay it any mind, if
I remember correctly." It drives away werewolves, too, he thought silently.

"Good," said Professor Prewett approvingly. "Five points to Gryffindor — you're off to a
great start."

Remus couldn't help but suspect that Professor Prewett was trying to bolster him with
encouragement before he faced the boggart.

"Shall we?" asked Professor Prewett, raising his wand. Remus nodded. "Remember, I'll step
in if things get hairy. If you're ready, then…"
He waved his wand, and the door of the grandfather clock flew open. From behind the
shadows of the pendulum, another Professor Prewett stepped into the room.

At first glance, this boggart seemed to be identical to the Defence professor, though as it drew
closer to Remus, its differences became apparent. The boggart was much thinner, nearly
skeletal, and though Professor Prewett was already quite pale, the boggart's skin was as white
as bone. But it walked with Professor Prewett's easy grace, and even the cheerful expression
on its sunken face was familiar.

Remus' eyes flickered towards the real Professor Prewett, who was standing off to the side,
his smile somewhat forced. Why was Professor Prewett's boggart… himself?

"Hello, Remus," said the boggart. It was mere feet from him now. "Why don't you put that
wand away, and we can have a chat, you and I?"

"No, thanks," said Remus. He tightened his grip on his wand.

"Come, now," said the boggart-Prewett pleasantly. "There's so much I could teach you. After
all, we're so much alike, you and I…"

Its skeletal fingers reached towards the violet scarf around its neck and loosened it just
enough to reveal an ugly, raised scar. The wound looked like something had bitten a chunk
out of its neck.

Remus' heart pounded in terror, yet he stood rooted to the spot. It couldn't be. Boggarts lie, he
thought. Professor Prewett couldn't be a werewolf like him.

As if it could read his thoughts, the boggart smiled. Its teeth were pointed, glistening with
saliva.

"You and I have tasted blood," it whispered. "We crave it… you when the moon is high, and
I… I long for it more each day…"

The boggart reached for him with clawed hands. Remus stumbled away, scrambling to think
of a happy memory. Sirius visiting him in the hospital wing. His white-toothed, careless grin.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Silver mist erupted from the tip of his wand, forcing the boggart backwards. The mist
dissipated after mere seconds, but it was enough — the boggart staggered and nearly fell into
the belly of the grandfather clock.

Remus' heartbeat hammered in his ears, drowning out all other noise, but he didn't lower his
wand. Suddenly, the boggart righted itself with inhuman speed, and with a frustrated hiss, it
flung itself at Remus —

The real Professor Prewett stepped between them. "Riddikulus."

The boggart's body swelled, as though rapidly gaining weight; its limbs grew bloated and
sausage-like, and the colour of its skin shifted from deathly white to ruddy red. It's filling
with blood, Remus realised, feeling queasy. The boggart's body continued to inflate, like a
grotesque balloon animal, until finally it burst, showering them with steaming, scarlet
droplets of blood. The remnants of the vanquished boggart sped into the grandfather clock,
and the bevelled glass door slammed shut behind it.

The blood vanished with a wave of Professor Prewett's wand. "That was well done, Lupin,"
he said conversationally. "A bit more practise, and you'll have the hang of it in no time."

Remus wasn't so sure about that. Besides, weren't they going to talk about how Professor
Prewett's boggart had been… Professor Prewett himself? "Erm, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"What did your boggart mean, sir? When it said we were alike?"

Professor Prewett's smile didn't waver, but there was a sadness in his bright blue eyes. "That
was interesting, wasn't it? I was hoping the boggart would be a tad more subtle than that, but
they're horrible secret keepers, alas." He waved his wand, conjuring a pair of cushions out of
nowhere. He settled cross-legged on one and gestured for Remus to sit on the other. "Might
as well get comfortable — the conversation is a long one."

As Remus took a seat on the cushion opposite Professor Prewett, he found himself glancing
at the scarf around the professor's neck. Did he have the same terrible scar as his boggart?

Professor Prewett caught him looking. "Ah," he said. "Wondering about the scar?"

Remus flushed. "No, I… I apologise. It isn't any of my business." He thought of his own scar,
which marred his right shoulder, and he had to will himself not to touch it.

"No need to apologise," said Professor Prewett. "Sadly, Lupin, the answer is yes — I've got
the scar. The boggart took a few, ah, artistic liberties with its portrayal of me, but that was
unfortunately not one of them."

"He wasn't a very nice person, your boggart," said Remus.

"No," agreed Professor Prewett, "he wasn't."

Remus shifted his weight on the cushion. He was too polite to ask the questions he really
wanted to, such as: Are you a werewolf? Is that why the boggart said we were alike? He
wished he were more like Sirius; Sirius would have come right out and said it, regardless of
the consequences.

"Professor?" he asked. "Why does your boggart look like you?"

"Excellent question," said Professor Prewett. "What do you think?"

Remus found he knew the answer instinctively. "You're afraid of yourself because you think
you're dangerous."
"Well reasoned," said Professor Prewett. "Although I do not merely believe that I am
dangerous, Lupin: I know it for a fact. It's this caution that grounds me — it keeps both
myself and those around me safe."

Remus could relate. Too much. "Professor," he said, his throat dry, "you said your boggart
takes the form of a Dark creature."

"I did indeed."

"But your boggart looks like you. So does that mean… are you…"

Remus trailed off. He couldn't say it. Not out loud.

Professor Prewett seemed to understand. He nodded, and there was no smile on his face now.
"Would you like to hear the story?"

Remus had never been so curious. He needed to know what had happened, the same way he
needed to feel the moonlight on his fur when he was the wolf. The same way he needed to
hunt. "If it isn't too much trouble, sir."

Professor Prewett began his tale. "About a year ago, my brother, Gideon, and I went on a tour
of Europe. We visited the lost library of Agrippa in Hamburg, saw the Florentine Diamond in
the Louvre… truly an unforgettable experience. After travelling for a time, we ended up in a
forest in Albania. We didn't know it then, but there was a coven of vampires living in those
woods."

Remus' palms grew clammy. Vampires.

"It was by accident that we stumbled upon them," continued Professor Prewett. "We tried to
talk our way out of it, but… things went south rather quickly. Luckily, Gideon and I were
able to fight them off — but not before I was bitten."

Remus didn't know what to say. The story brought back uncomfortable memories: visions of
a dark night and a feral, long-fingered man flashed through his mind. The man had climbed
through his window and grabbed him, and then there had been pain, so much pain…

"I'm sorry, Professor," said Remus at last. He tried to put the weight of everything he could
not talk about into those words.

"I am, too," said Professor Prewett. "In many ways, I am still coming to terms with… my
new existence. But I am glad to be alive — or rather, not entirely dead."

Remus still couldn't believe that he was speaking to a vampire. Professor Prewett seemed
so… normal. The pictures of vampires that Remus had seen in textbooks didn't look nearly as
healthy as Professor Prewett did. Aside from his pale skin and the scar concealed under that
violet scarf, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the professor's appearance.

"You look surprised," said Professor Prewett.

"A bit," admitted Remus. "I suppose I should know better than to judge by appearances. It's
just that you seem so… well…"

"Human?" said Professor Prewett with a knowing smile.

Remus nodded. An unpleasant titbit from one of their Defence textbooks crossed his mind.
"Sir? Don't vampires need to drink, erm, blood to survive?"

Professor Prewett grimaced. "Unfortunately. Nasty stuff — I can't say I've acquired much of a
taste for it. But I shouldn't complain: my brother, Gideon, is very generous, and donates his
blood to me regularly." A corner of his mouth turned upward. "That's probably the other
reason why I look rather healthier than the average vampire. Most don't have a steady supply
of blood they can rely on, do they?"

Remus had never thought about it. "I suppose not." He was still processing the fact that the
man sitting across from him had just admitted to drinking blood regularly. Remus had always
been ashamed of that aspect of the wolf — that ravenous hunger for human flesh, so strong
he'd even gnaw at his own limbs. Could he learn to be more like Professor Prewett? Was it
possible to accept that part of himself without feeling disgusted?

"Just so you know, Professor, I won't tell anyone," said Remus, because he felt that needed to
be said.

"That's very kind of you, Lupin," said Professor Prewett. "The staff at Hogwarts already
know, of course, but I think that many of the students would have a difficult time accepting a
vampire as their Defence professor." He rose from his cushion and gestured at the grandfather
clock. "Want to have another go at the boggart?"

"Maybe another time," said Remus. He felt like he needed to take the rest of the night off to
sort out the thoughts that were whirling around his head.

Professor Prewett seemed to understand. "Lots on your mind, eh? I don't blame you for
wanting a rest."

They left the divination professor's office. When they had reached the base of the North
Tower, Professor Prewett turned to Remus and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good progress
today, Lupin! Whenever you feel like taking another whack at the boggart, you know where
to find me." And he descended the staircase that led to the ground floor, tightening the scarf
around his neck.

Remus' newly-healed leg ached, sore from traipsing all over the castle. He wished the
Gryffindor tower weren't on the seventh floor. But it was, and there was no changing that, so
for the second time that day, he began the long, slow climb up the stairs to the common room.

Maybe I'll tell Sirius about Professor Prewett, he thought as he climbed, using the handrail to
take some of the weight off his leg. It would be interesting to note Sirius' reaction. And
Remus needed to confide in someone about what he had learned. Sirius was a natural choice,
now that they were back to being… friends. Close, platonic friends, and nothing more.
The other Marauders weren't in the Gryffindor common room when he arrived, but that
wasn't wholly unusual; they'd been spending more and more time in the Heads' dormitory,
lately.

He climbed the staircase to the boys' dormitories and noticed that the door to the seventh year
dormitory was slightly ajar. He peered inside; Sirius was sitting on the edge of his bed, alone,
his back to the door.

Remus tapped his knuckles against the door so as not to scare him. "Pads," he said, "you
won't believe what just happened. I ran into Professor Prewett after being discharged from the
hospital wing and…" He trailed off. Sirius hadn't so much as acknowledged him. "Pads?"

When Sirius spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Hey, Moony."

Remus stepped closer. Sirius' head was bowed, and his hair fell across his face, obscuring his
expression. In his hands was a letter. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," rasped Sirius, in a voice that made it clear everything was not alright. "It's just… I
got a letter from Dorcas."

Remus tamped down the ugly flare of jealousy that roared to life at her name. "What does it
say?"

Sirius looked up; his eyes were glassy and red. "She wrote to tell me about… about Uncle
Alphard."

There was a horrible, sinking feeling in Remus' chest. "What about Uncle Alphard, Sirius?"
he said gently, though he feared he already knew.

"It's just — Uncle Alphard, he." Sirius cleared his throat, then tried again. "He's… gone,
Moony. He died."
 The Midnight Vigil
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Remus liked quiet, even craved it at times, but sitting in silence with the Marauders felt
wrong. They were in Uncle Alphard's flat — which now belonged to Sirius, apparently —
along with Dorcas, Marlene, and Lily, keeping a noiseless vigil. The longer nobody spoke,
the more oppressive the silence became, until even Remus was seized by the urge to say
something.

"Who wants more Butterbeer?" he asked at last. "Pads, I'll get you another…"

Sirius nodded hollowly, though his current mug was still half-full.

"Were you two very close?" ventured Lily, now that Remus had broken the silence.

Sirius lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. "Not really. I mean — it's complicated." Remus
pressed a new mug of Butterbeer into his hands, and Sirius stared at it dully. "I dunno why
I'm so cut up about him, honestly. It isn't surprising that he… well."

"It's not?" asked Lily.

Sirius laughed humourlessly. "The House of Black is not blessed with long lives. And the
things he was doing — secret missions for the Order, and what have you — it was only a
matter of time."

Dorcas lifted her head from Marlene's shoulder. Her eyes were swollen from crying. "This
isn't the Order's fault."

"He died carrying out a mission from them, didn't he?" retorted Sirius. There was a familiar
bite in his voice, and Remus knew he was thirsting to take his pain out on somebody else,
like a wounded dog.

Dorcas didn't back down. "The Death Eaters who did this to him are at fault. Not the Order."

"Why don't you say it?" snapped Sirius. "They murdered him. Murdered. Does tiptoeing
around the fact make you feel better?"

Fresh tears rolled down Dorcas' cheeks, which she brushed away angrily. "Does being an
arsehole make you feel better?"

That took the wind out of Sirius' sails, and he slumped against Remus, sighing. "Sorry," he
muttered to Dorcas. "Got carried away."

"It's alright," said Dorcas, though her jaw was tight. "I miss him, too." Beside her, Marlene
glared at Sirius.
"Do you know what happened to Alphard?" Peter asked Dorcas. "How he died, I mean."

Remus groaned internally. Peter hadn't spoken since they had begun their vigil, and this was
what he wanted to talk about? "We don't need to know the details, Wormtail."

"Yes, we do," said Sirius, surprising Remus. "Wormy's right. I want to know what happened."

Dorcas bit her lip. "You know the rest of the Order doesn't tell me anything important. I'm
still on watch duty at the Ministry," she added bitterly.

Sirius was not deterred. "You have to know something about how he died. Somebody in the
Order must have let something slip."

"They haven't," said Dorcas, irritated. "They've only…"

"Only what?"

She hesitated, clearly weighing whether to continue. "I did overhear a few people talking.
They mentioned that Dumbledore wasn't going to send anyone else to Albania. He decided it
was a lost cause, apparently, after what happened to Alphard."

Remus' head jerked up. Albania was where Professor Prewett had been bitten by vampires. It
had to be a coincidence. Unless… "You're certain they said Albania?"

"Of course she is," Marlene shot back. "Dorcas isn't deaf. Or stupid."

"I wasn't implying…" Remus trailed off. Better to say nothing at all, lest Marlene hex him.

"What would the Order be doing in Albania?" asked James. "There's nothing there. Just a lot
of forests and villages, right?"

"No idea," said Dorcas. "But whatever they want, the Death Eaters are after it too." Her eyes
welled with tears, and Marlene pulled her closer.

Sirius shifted, resting his elbows on his knees. "I wonder if Uncle Alphard left Regulus
anything."

"They weren't particularly close, though, were they?" said James.

Sirius shook his head. "He didn't like the path my parents are forcing Reg down. That's why
he wanted me to inherit Grimmauld Place…" He trailed off, then let out a groan. "Oh. Shit."

"What?" asked Peter.

"I just realised something." Sirius flopped back on the sofa. "With Uncle Alphard gone, my
parents and Uncle Cygnus control the entire Black fortune. I bet they funnel it all to the
Death Eaters as soon as they can."

Dorcas looked up, her eyes wide. "Alphard didn't leave you his share of the fortune?"
"It doesn't work like that," said Sirius. "He left me a bit of gold, yeah, but none of it came
from the family treasury. That money belongs to the Blacks. It's part of the reason why we
kill each other off so often — the last Black standing gets to control the coffers, and all the
gold in them."

Dorcas looked worried.

"Is something the matter?" asked Marlene.

"It's just… Alphard gave the Order loads of money," said Dorcas. "They relied on him for so
much. Now that he's gone… I don't know where they'll get the Galleons."

"Dumbledore will figure it out," said Sirius harshly. "I'm sure he's got a mountain of gold
lying around somewhere that he can dip into. Uncle Alphard was worth more than the
Galleons he donated to the Order."

"Of course he was." Dorcas' tone was steely. "You aren't the only one who cared for him, you
know."

Lily interjected before Sirius could deliver a truly venomous response. "Alright, let's all take
a moment to calm down. There's no need to quarrel…"

Marlene turned, her blue eyes blazing. "Dorcas is allowed to defend herself, isn't she?"

"Of course she is," said Lily. "I'm only saying — emotions are running high, that's all."

Sirius got to his feet, placing his untouched mug of Butterbeer on the floor. "I'm going to
bed," he announced. "Come on, Moony."

Remus gave a little start at being addressed. He'd thought Sirius had forgotten that he was
there.

What do you want from me? he wondered, but he followed Sirius down the hall and into the
guest bedroom.

Sirius peeled off his school robes and climbed into bed. He patted the sheets beside him. "Sit,
Moony."

Remus obliged, and Sirius curled up like he was a dog, placing his head in Remus' lap.

"Padfoot," said Remus, tense. "What —"

Sirius hushed him. "It's past midnight. Do you know what that means?"

Remus' chest grew tight. "It's your birthday."

"Happy birthday to me," said Sirius miserably. The outburst that had been building during his
conversation with Dorcas seemed to have died within him. He lay half-curled atop the bed, as
still and rigid as if he had been Petrified, his head heavy in Remus' lap. As he stared blankly
into space, his eyes grew rimmed with red, but he didn't cry.
Remus thought a bit of conversation might do Sirius good; he was afraid of the dark turn
Sirius' thoughts might take if he lay there brooding any longer. "I'm so sorry, Padfoot. It's
never a good time to lose a loved one, and much less so on your birthday —"

"Hush," said Sirius, and Remus' mouth clamped shut immediately. "I don't want to talk
anymore. Every time I talk, I hurt someone." Without looking up, he grabbed Remus' hand
and drew Remus' fingers through his long, black hair, as though Remus was petting him.
"Just — just be with me, alright?"

Remus curled his fingers in Sirius' hair. It was softer than he'd expected, silkier than Padfoot's
tangled fur. "Alright," he whispered, and he stroked Sirius' hair hesitantly, as though the dark
strands would snap if his fingers got caught.

Sirius closed his eyes, and his breathing deepened. Before ten minutes had passed, he was
asleep.

Remus didn't dare move for fear of waking him. Instead, he watched Sirius' chest rise and fall
and tried to memorise the feeling of Sirius' hair between his fingers.

He sought me out for comfort, Remus thought. Not James. Me.

If only Remus could be content with that. If only he could stop yearning for Sirius. Even
though Sirius' cheek was pressed into his thigh, and his hands were in Sirius' hair, it wasn't
enough. He wanted more.

Wanting was dangerous. Remus never got what he wanted.

He waited until he was certain that Sirius was deeply asleep. Then, carefully, he bent down
and brushed his lips against the top of Sirius' forehead. He breathed in; Sirius smelled like
butterscotch and leather.

Remus stayed awake for a long time after that, wishing. Wanting. Eventually, his head dipped
to his chest, and he, too, drifted off to sleep.

Severus had thought he knew what exhaustion was, but after barely sleeping for a week, he
had a new appreciation for the term.

Naturally, as soon as he and Regulus had agreed to take turns keeping an eye on Avery,
Regulus' uncle had died. As a result, Regulus had been whisked home to attend the various
will-readings and sombre ceremonies befitting a deceased member of the House of Black.
That left Severus as Avery's sole caretaker.

Avery, for his part, hadn't put a toe out of line since the Halloween feast, but Severus refused
to let down his guard. Even if Avery wasn't actively seeking out Muggle-borns to torture, he
was still Imperiused. At any moment, he might be commanded to act, and only Severus
would be able to stop him.

As a result, Severus had barely slept. Every night, he placed Avery in the Full-Body Bind
Curse and traced runes around their dormitory door that would alert him if Avery tried to
leave. Still, he found himself spending hours alert, ready to act should Avery twitch in his
sleep. The exhaustion was taking a toll on him: he failed to complete his Charms homework
for the first time ever and nearly nodded off into his Wit-Sharpening Elixir during Potions.

On Friday evening, he and Avery entered the Great Hall for dinner. Regulus was at the
Slytherin table, picking at a slice of roast chicken, and Severus breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin you're back," he said, taking a seat on the bench opposite Regulus. "My
condolences about your uncle, by the way. I trust the funeral went well?"

"It was a disaster," said Regulus. "Alphard left everything he could to my brother, who got
disowned last summer, actually, so he wasn't even present. Completely blindsided my
parents."

"They took it poorly?"

"Yeah," said Regulus. "My mother went berserk during the will reading, and things went
downhill from there." He swallowed a bite of chicken. "She may have set the tapestry of the
family tree on fire."

Severus found it comforting that other people had horrible parents, too. "Your mum sounds
charming."

"She's… a strong personality," said Regulus. "I'm glad to be back, at least."

"Me, too," said Severus, "because it's your turn to babysit Edmund. I've gotten about four
hours of sleep in the past week, and it has not made me a more pleasant person."

"You? Unpleasant?" said Regulus. "Who could have predicted?"

Severus' lip twitched. "Your uncle was an Obliviator, wasn't he? Good money, high-level
access at the Ministry — he must have owned some interesting artefacts. Did he leave you
anything in his will?"

Regulus looked embarrassed. "Not — not really."

"I will remind you that I am an accomplished Legilimens."

Regulus very nearly rolled his eyes. "Fine. He left me a couple of trinkets, that's all. No
money — Sirius got that."

"That figures." Severus glanced at the Gryffindor table, where Sirius Black was staring at his
plate, deep in thought. Probably plotting how best to spend all the Galleons his uncle left
him.
After dinner, they were on their way back to the dungeons when a Slytherin prefect with a
long ponytail stopped them. "Snape?" she asked. "Severus Snape?"

"That's my name, last I checked," said Severus peevishly. Whatever this girl wanted, she was
standing between him and his bed.

"Sorry to bother you," said the prefect, "only… the Headmaster wants to see you in his office.
Black and Avery, too," she added, looking at them apologetically.

So much for an early night's rest. Instead of responding, Severus whirled on his heel, heading
back to the Entrance Hall. Regulus and Avery followed suit.

"You reckon he wants to talk about the attack on Jenkins?" whispered Regulus once the
prefect was out of earshot.

"I'm sure of it," responded Severus shortly. To Avery, he said, "you'd better hope he doesn't
expel you."

Avery whimpered. "But I… I couldn't help it! It wasn't my fault!"

"Don't listen to Severus," said Regulus. "You won't be expelled. We won't let that happen."

Severus certainly wouldn't complain if Dumbledore did expel Avery. At least that way he was
guaranteed an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep.

When they reached the seventh floor, the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office
stepped aside before they could utter a word. As Severus passed the gargoyle, he swore it
glared at him.

Severus scowled back. He wondered if the Headmaster had already judged them guilty. The
gargoyle's attitude seemed to suggest just that, at any rate.

As they entered the headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore inclined his head in greeting
and gestured for them to take a seat. Severus sank obediently onto one of the three velvet
chairs that faced the Headmaster's desk. On either side of him, Regulus and Avery did the
same.

"Thank you for coming so rapidly to my office," said Professor Dumbledore. His tone was
pleasant enough, but his icy blue eyes lacked their characteristic twinkle. "I wish to discuss a
matter of great importance. There is no point in beating around the bush; two students have
been attacked, and the perpetrator remains at large. I must confess that I have my suspicions
about who might have done such a thing, but before jumping to any conclusions, I wish to
hear your sides of the story."

He smiled benevolently at them, as though he hadn't just accused them of brutally maiming
two Hogwarts students. Severus hated the headmaster's version of diplomacy.

Severus waited, hoping that Regulus would speak up. After an extended pause, it became
clear that neither Regulus nor Avery was willing to speak for the group. Severus tried not to
feel bitter about it. He'd always wanted to mentor the other Followers; lying to the
Headmaster was part and parcel of the job, apparently.

Still, Severus didn't like his odds. He cleared his throat and let his thoughts slide beneath the
placid barrier of Occlumency. "This may be difficult to believe, sir, but we didn't attack those
students."

"Quite right," said Professor Dumbledore cheerily. "If I am reading the room correctly, two of
you had no part in what happened to Owen Stickley and Albert Jenkins. There is a third
person, however, who radiates guilt so loudly that I could sense it as he climbed the stairs to
my office." Behind his half-moon glasses, his eyes flicked towards Avery, who was positively
trembling in his chair.

To Severus' surprise, he found himself coming to Avery's defence. "If you can sense all that,
sir," he said, fighting to keep his tone respectful, "then surely you already know that Avery is
a victim as well. Just as much as Stickley and Jenkins."

For an instant, so quick that Severus almost missed it, the headmaster's eyebrows raised a
fraction of an inch. "Why do you say that, Severus?"

Severus gritted his teeth at Dumbledore calling him by his first name. The false intimacy was
so transparent. So infantilising. "Edmund has been placed under the Imperius Curse," he said.
"We do not know who is responsible. But I would ask — don't expel him. Please. This isn't
his fault, and doing so would not bring you any closer to discovering the real culprit." He
paused for breath, his mouth dry. He couldn't believe he was begging the Headmaster for
Avery's sake. He'd even said please.

Professor Dumbledore leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. "Is this true,
Edmund?"

To Severus' acute embarrassment, Avery began to cry. "It's t-t-true," he howled. "I couldn't h-
help it. The voice — it made me — made me do horrible things, I'm s-sorry…" He trailed off,
his voice dissolving into sobs.

Professor Dumbledore's expression softened, and he conjured a handkerchief in midair. Avery

took the handkerchief gratefully and loudly blew his nose on it.

"Professor?" said Severus. For the moment, it looked like the headmaster wouldn't expel
them, but he didn't want to push his luck. "How long does the Imperius Curse usually last? Is
there any chance of it… wearing off, so to speak?"

"It's possible," said Professor Dumbledore, still examining Avery with concern. "The spell's
power and duration generally depend on the prowess of its caster. I have heard of certain
Dark wizards who, with a single Imperius Curse, can control their victims for years, even
decades. But such reports are rare, and they would not apply to Edmund, in any case. I
suspect that whoever cast the Imperius Curse on him is a student, and therefore rather less
skilled than your average Dark wizard."

"So… it might wear off?" asked Severus.

"It almost certainly will," said Professor Dumbledore. "Though how long that could take, I
cannot say for certain."

"But not… not decades, sir?"

"Likely not. Edmund has already been under the curse for nearly two months, if my
calculations are correct. I would estimate that its effects may linger for several additional
months, though likely less than a year."

That was not encouraging. Severus was ready to strangle Avery after only a week of
babysitting; he couldn't take several more months of this. "I see," he said. "Is there no way to
break the curse before that, sir? To speed up the process, so to speak?"

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. "There is a reason that the Imperius Curse is
considered Unforgivable, I'm afraid. If we had a counter-curse, we could at least mitigate its
most harmful effects. But I know of no such spell."

"And if I invented one?" said Severus.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "If you could do that, Severus, you might just find yourself
saddled with an Order of Merlin, Second Class. Though I do not say this to discourage you
— Professor Slughorn has long told me of how bright you are, and perhaps the genius of
youth will succeed where others have failed."

Severus highly doubted that. Professor Slughorn couldn't even be bothered to pronounce his
name correctly. "I was thinking more along the lines of an antidote, sir," he mumbled. "Some
sort of potion." He felt embarrassed for even saying the words aloud; what was he doing,
seeking Dumbledore's approval like this? He hated the headmaster. But the old wizard was so
magnetic that even Severus found himself wanting to impress him.

Regulus spoke up at last. "Barring a breakthrough on Severus' part, what's to be done about
Edmund? We've been trying to watch him, but — there's still the possibility that he could slip
away from us and hurt someone again."

"An excellent question, Black," said Professor Dumbledore with a nod. Severus tried not to
bristle. Why did Regulus get to be called by his surname? Why not he and Avery?

"Here is what I propose for the time being," continued Dumbledore. "As long as Edmund is
not actively under the thrall of the Imperius Curse, I see no reason to disrupt his final year of
study by sending him home. I will assign a few of our house-elves to keep an eye on him at
all times and ensure that he is behaving appropriately. If he begins to act in a bizarre or
suspicious manner, I will have them send for me or Professor McGonagall at once. I think
weekly check-ins with Madam Pomfrey would be in order, as well. What do you say,
Edmund?"

Avery scrubbed at his nose with the handkerchief. "Th-that sounds good, sir. Thank you, sir."

Severus thought it was a horrible plan. Any headmaster worth their salt would have had
Avery committed to St Mungo's until it was clear he was no longer a danger to himself or
others. Not for the first time in his life, he wished he'd gone to Durmstrang.

"I must admit, I'm surprised," Regulus told Severus after they left the headmaster's office. "I
thought that Dumbledore would jump to conclusions and that we would be expelled. I didn't
expect him to be so… reasonable."

Severus snorted. "I beg to differ. He's not taking the threat nearly seriously enough."

Regulus gave a little half-shrug. "At least we don't have to stay up all night watching Avery
anymore. You must be happy to catch up on sleep, right?"

"Is that what you think I'll be doing?" They reached the second-floor landing, and Severus
turned abruptly down the nearest corridor.

Regulus hesitated on the stairs. "Severus? Where are you going?"

"The library," Severus growled over his shoulder. He had a few ideas for an antidote, but he'd
need to do some more research to be certain. Someone needed to stop this Imperius nonsense,
after all, and it certainly wasn't going to be Dumbledore.

That meant it fell to Severus to save the day. Joy.

James was walking purposefully down a dimly lit corridor. There was someone just ahead of
him — a girl with red hair and black robes.

He quickened his step, trying to reach her, but she broke into a run. The corridor grew
darker, and he nearly lost sight of her. With a final burst of speed, he reached for the back of
her robes —

He caught her arm, and she turned.

"Finally," he said. "You shouldn't be wandering around here alone, it's — Lily? Are you
listening to me?"

She was staring at his chest, her eyes wide with shock.

He looked down. Splotches of crimson bloomed on his robes, warm and wet, spreading —

Lily began to shriek.

"No! James — NO!"

He awoke with a start, breathing heavily.

After a moment, James realised he'd been dreaming. It was odd — he didn't often have
nightmares, and this one had felt so real. He could still hear Lily's screams echoing in his
ears.

He ran a hand shakily through his hair, then checked his watch on the bedside table. Half-past
eight; he needed to get up or he'd be late for Transfiguration.

He flung himself out of bed and did several press-ups, hoping that would banish the lingering
aftereffects of the dream. Ever since he'd heard Lily's screams coming from Severus' wand,
he'd hardly been able to think of anything else. And now the memory was invading his
dreams, too.

She'd been beside herself when he had been hurt. What did that mean?

James had spent several days trying to puzzle it out, and he still had no idea. She didn't fancy
him, of course; she'd been abundantly clear about that over the past seven years. But one
didn't scream like that over an injured acquaintance, or even a friend. Perhaps she thought of
him… as a brother? Yes, that made sense. James was certain he would do more than scream
if Sirius was ever gravely wounded.

Feeling better now that he had a working theory about Lily's feelings towards him, James got
dressed and left the Heads' dormitory. As he made his way towards the lower floors of the
castle, he tried to convince himself that there were worse things than being thought of as a
brother. For example, at least she didn't hate him anymore.

He couldn't deny that he would always hold a flame for her, though. She was assertive, even
blunt at times, but she was also passionate and capable, and she made him laugh. She was
everything he liked about the Marauders, all wrapped up in a single girl.

She was also never going to have feelings for him, and after seven years of rejections, he'd
finally stopped hoping that she'd change her mind. He might not have much experience with
girls, but he wasn't a complete idiot. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

James caught Lily's eye upon entering the Transfiguration classroom and flashed her what he
hoped was a brotherly smile.

She frowned. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Brilliant. Just, er, trying out a new smile, that's all."

A corner of her lip turned up. "I liked your old one better, to be honest."

"Oh," he stuttered, "well, that's —"

Sirius came to his rescue, draping an arm across James' shoulders. "You look constipated,
mate." He steered James towards the back of the classroom. "Mind sitting with Wormtail
today? Remus has promised to do all my work for me, since I'm in mourning."

"Is that why you've been wearing that veil?" asked James. "I thought only witches wore
those."
With a flourish, Sirius produced a lacy black veil from his pocket and draped it across his
face. "It's what Uncle Alphard would have wanted."

"No, it's not," said Remus. "And I promised you no such thing, Padfoot. Uncle Alphard
would want you to do your own work."

Sirius turned to Remus, indignant, and James took a seat beside Peter, shaking his head. At
least Sirius was back to using humour as a coping mechanism; it had been worrying to see
him so downtrodden.

James squinted at the instructions on the board. Today they were supposed to Vanish a box of
matches, then Conjure that exact box of matches back from Unbeing. The ritual was
extremely precise, with little room for error. Perhaps he should have done the assigned
readings.

"Why are you practising a new smile?" asked Peter after Professor McGonagall had handed
each student a matchbox.

"Er, just something I thought I'd try out," said James. "What did you think?"

Peter gave him a sly little grin. "Sirius was right. You did look constipated."

"Thanks, Pete." He flicked his wand, sending Peter's matches tumbling out of his matchbox.

"Don't," said Peter, laughing, "you'll…" He trailed off, gaping at the jumble of matches on his
desk.

James was uncomfortably reminded of the horrified way Lily had stared at him in his dream.
"Everything alright?"

Peter pointed at the matches with a trembling hand, his voice barely a whisper. "Don't you
see it?"

"See what? A bunch of matchsticks?"

"The Jinx." Peter's blue eyes were as round as saucers. "It's back."

James squinted at the matchsticks. "Remind me again what it's supposed to look like?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," said Peter huffily, and he pointed his wand at the matchsticks,
making a few of them glow red. "Now do you see it?"

James had to admit that the way the red matchsticks overlaid each other did look like an
hourglass. "What about those ones, though?" he asked, pointing a few of the other matches.
"They look more like the Seven of Coins to me…"

"Those ones aren't important!" said Peter shrilly. "This is further proof. Something bad is
going to happen!"
James scratched his neck. "I mean, that's not much of a prediction. Bad things happen all the
time, don't they? You could equally say that something good is going to happen and be just as
correct."

"But not like this," said Peter. "Not in this specific pattern. The Jinx predicts good luck
followed by sudden bad fortune…" His blue eyes widened. "I thought Sirius' uncle dying was
the bad fortune, but what if it's the good luck?"

"Er, sorry," said James, "but how is Alphard's death lucky?"

"Not his death," explained Peter. "His will. Sirius just got a heap of gold and a flat in London.
If that's not good luck, I don't know what is."

"Bollocks," said James. "Sirius' uncle had to die for him to get that gold. Even if the Jinx is
real, Alphard's death doesn't fit the pattern at all. I know you believe in this Divination stuff,
Pete, but I think it's a reach."

Peter didn't look convinced. "Well, I think we ought to be on guard against sudden bad luck.
I'm going to buy us all rabbit's feet on my next trip to Hogsmeade."

"You do that," said James, distracted. At the front of the room, Lily had Conjured her
matchbox in exactly the same spot where it had Vanished, and she was beaming at Professor
McGonagall's praise. "Get a rabbit's foot for Lily, too, would you?"

Peter blinked. "Oh," he said. "I — erm, I suppose I can do that. I'd planned on it just being us
Marauders, but…"

"She's my girlfriend," said James, and for the first time, he managed not to choke on the
word. "I'm not saying I believe in the Jinx, mind you. But if there's bad luck floating around,
she ought to be protected from it."

At the end of the lesson, James was trying to slip his matchbox into his bag — Muggle
matches smelled nice, and there were some old essays in his bedroom he wanted to burn —
when Professor McGonagall approached his desk.

"Potter," she said briskly. "Might I speak to you and Miss Evans for a minute?"

"Er, yeah, sure," he said. He glanced at Lily, hoping she might know what this was about, but
she gave him a little shrug.

Professor McGonagall closed the door of the classroom as the last student filed out. She
turned to James and Lily, her expression grim. "There has been another attack."

"Another?" Lily's eyes widened. "But nobody's come through the hospital wing. Unless they
were transferred directly to St Mungo's?"

"This one was not as bad as the first," said Professor McGonagall. "Another Slytherin student
was wounded, but Professor Slughorn was able to intervene before the situation got out of
hand."
Lily chewed on her bottom lip. "Whoever's behind these attacks seems to be targeting
Slytherin students. Are we certain it's not someone in Slytherin?"

"Professor Dumbledore has spoken to several Slytherin students," said Professor

McGonagall. "He believes that the Imperius Curse is being used, forcing students to attack
one another."

"The Imperius Curse?" repeated James incredulously. "But that's a life sentence in Azkaban if
caught. What sort of lunatic would do that at Hogwarts?"

Lily looked grim. "Somebody who doesn't want to get their hands dirty."

Professor McGonagall inclined her head. "I don't suppose you two have had any luck in
catching the culprit?"

Lily's face fell, and James was certain that she felt guilty for not doing more to investigate. "I
did a bit of poking around in Slytherin," he volunteered so that she didn't have to speak.
"Didn't find much, though. I thought that Snape fellow might have had something to do with
it, but he was as clueless as I was, funnily enough."

Lily shot him a grateful look. "We'll increase the prefect patrols, Professor," she said. "Maybe
we can implement a buddy system, too, so that no student is ever alone in the castle. That
might deter whoever is behind these attacks — it would make it harder for them to find a
victim to target, at least."

"Those are reasonable measures for the time being," said Professor McGonagall. She swept
behind her desk and began to erase the blackboard with her wand. "There was another matter
I wished to discuss with you two. You have heard of the Illumina celebration, I presume?"

"Yes," said Lily.

"No," said James.

Both Professor McGonagall and Lily turned to him, confused.

"You've never heard of Illumina, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall archly.

"Er. No?"

Lily was looking at him as if he had three heads. "Have you never read Hogwarts: A
History?"

"Remus has read it," said James defensively.

"Oh, my God," said Lily. "And why is that relevant, exactly?"

"Well, you know," he said. "No point in both of us wasting our time…"

Lily threw up her hands and looked to Professor McGonagall for help. Professor
McGonagall, for her part, appeared to be fighting to keep a neutral expression on her face.
"The Illumina celebration, Potter," she said in a clipped voice, "is a long and storied
Hogwarts tradition that reaches back centuries. Though it has not been celebrated in some
decades, Illumina is traditionally held at the end of the autumn term and celebrates the
inclusion of Muggle-borns and half-bloods into the Hogwarts student body. Given the current
state of wizarding Britain, Professor Dumbledore believes that such a celebration would help
to unite us, at a time when so many seek to divide."

"Hang on," said James slowly. "You mean… Muggle-borns and half-bloods weren't always
welcome at Hogwarts?"

Lily muttered, "If you'd ever read Hogwarts: A History…"

"Potter," said Professor McGonagall, "how do you think the village of Hogsmeade came to
be?"

"Er," he said. "I dunno. A bunch of entrepreneurs saw an opportunity to fleece Hogwarts
students of their Galleons?"

Lily perched on the nearest desk and crossed her arms. "No, James," she said. "Hogsmeade
was originally where Muggle-born and half-blood students lived while studying at Hogwarts.
Only pure-bloods were allowed to stay in the castle."

"Did you never wonder, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, "why the grounds of Hogwarts
are encircled by a large wall?"

James had never given the wall a second thought. His stomach churned with embarrassment
as he realised just how naive he had been.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, directing the words at Lily. "I didn't know. I feel like an idiot."

Lily opened her mouth, and he expected her to tell him that he really was an idiot, but what
she said instead was, "It's alright. It was a long time ago, anyway." She turned to Professor
McGonagall. "So we're putting on an Illumina celebration this year?"

"Indeed," said Professor McGonagall. "I was hoping to enlist your help with the preparations.
Professor Flitwick and I will be doing most of the charms, of course, but traditionally the
entire wall surrounding Hogwarts is Vanished, and there are scores of candles to be bought
and placed on the grounds…"

"We can take care of the candles and the wall," said Lily. She looked at James, excited.
"Illumina is supposed to be really beautiful, I've seen pictures but never thought I'd actually
get to experience it. I've got an idea for the wall, actually — instead of Vanishing it, maybe
we could Transfigure it into — into hundreds of strings of candles, or something. So that
people could pass back and forth through it, going from Hogsmeade to the castle. It'd be a lot
of work, but… what do you think?"

James' stomach unknotted, and he found himself smiling at her enthusiasm. "I think it's a
great idea. You're brilliant, Lily."
 Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Professor McGonagall smile.

Chapter End Notes

Ooooh, I wonder what's in Albania, any thoughts? :) Thanks for reading!

 Not Human

After Charms the following Wednesday, Remus decided to stop by Professor Prewett's office
instead of joining the Marauders for dinner.

"And just where do you think you're going?" asked Sirius when Remus paused on the
second-floor landing.

"I ought to see Professor Prewett," said Remus apologetically. "He's been helping me with the
Patronus Charm, I want to take another crack at it…"

"But you're my buddy!" exclaimed Sirius. "Who's going to escort me to dinner now?"

"I'm certain you can make it down two flights of stairs by yourself," said Remus wryly.

"Is that what you think? Just wait — I'll get Imperiused, and then you'll be sorry."

"I don't think you have anything to fear from the Imperius Curse. Your skull's too thick."

Sirius grinned. "You're right. I don't take orders very well, do I?"

"About as well as Peter sings," said Remus.

Sirius made a face. "Want me to save you a seat at dinner?"

"No, don't bother. I might be a while."

"Suit yourself. Off I go, then — if you catch me working on our Potions essay later, I've
definitely been Imperiused…" Sirius squeezed Remus' shoulder as he brushed past, then
strode jauntily down the stairs.

When Remus reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, he raised his hand to knock,
but hesitated before his fist met the wooden door. Professor Prewett was hiding something;
Remus was certain of that. The Defence professor had been bitten by vampires in Albania,
the same place where Alphard Black had died. It couldn't be a coincidence. But how would
Remus bring it up? No matter how he phrased it, accusing a professor of lying would go
poorly.

Best forget the whole matter, he decided, and he turned to leave. Professor Prewett's business
was his own, after all, and there was likely a perfectly reasonable explanation for —

The office door creaked open. "Lupin?"

In his head, Remus said something extremely foul. "Professor," he said with some effort,
turning around. The Defence professor looked paler than usual, and his bright blue eyes were
bloodshot. Or was Remus making assumptions, now that he knew Professor Prewett was a
vampire? "I, erm, didn't think you were in your office. I knocked, but didn't hear an answer."
The lie was weak, but Professor Prewett didn't seem to notice. "Sorry about that," he said,
giving Remus a wan smile. "I must have had a bit of earwax in my ears. Did you feel like
having another go at the boggart?"

Remus could think of nothing he'd rather do less, except snogging the Giant Squid, perhaps.
But it was as good an excuse as any for why he was wandering round the second floor after
lessons had ended for the day. "I was hoping to," he said. "But if now's not a good time…"

"Now is an excellent time." Professor Prewett stepped into the corridor and locked the door
to his office. "Let's have at it, then."

Remus spent the entire walk to the North Tower trying to conjure up a happy memory.
Unfortunately, Sirius' face kept shoving its way to the forefront of his mind. Those
captivating grey eyes made Remus' body thrum with a multitude of emotions, and not all of
them were pleasant.

You're too complicated, he thought. The Sirius in his head pouted.

"Ready, Lupin?" asked Professor Prewett once they had entered Professor Vablatsky's office.

Remus drew his wand and nodded grimly.

Professor Prewett pointed his wand at the grandfather clock in the corner. "Alohomora."

There was a click, and a pale hand emerged from behind the pendulum and pushed the glass
door open. The boggart stepped into the room, a sinister imitation of Professor Prewett.

"Back again, Lupin?" it asked.

"Afraid so," said Remus.

The boggart cocked its head and a slow grin spread across its face, revealing vicious fangs.
"Interesting thoughts in your young head tonight. Very interesting."

"Yes, well," said Remus, fighting to concentrate on his happy memory, "I hate to disappoint,
but I didn't come here to entertain."

"You're on the right track, you know."

Remus' concentration evaporated like sweat on hot pavement. He met the boggart's piercing
blue eyes, bewildered. Was it hinting at the connection between Professor Prewett and
Alphard Black? Did boggarts know such things?

The boggart wiggled its eyebrows. "You should ask him," it said, jerking its head towards
Professor Prewett. "Here, preferably, so I can listen. I would love to watch him squirm."

Remus shook his head. Boggarts lie, he reminded himself. They feed on misery. Don't listen
to it.
The boggart was leering at him. Remus squeezed his eyes shut and thought about his parents.
About his ninth birthday, when his father had taken him to see a herd of horse-like Kelpies in
the River Wye, and his mum had made him a cake.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A jet of silver mist erupted from the tip of his wand and barrelled towards the boggart — it
swirled around the boggart, taking shape —

There was a creature inside the mist. A huge, four-legged beast snapped its jaws, forcing the
boggart into the grandfather clock. Triumphant, the beast lifted its head, as if to howl —

Remus dropped his wand. As it clattered to the floor, The Patronus vanished in a puff of
silver smoke.

The silence was broken by a slow clap. "Oh, well done," said Professor Prewett. "That was
miles better than last time — your Patronus was very nearly corporeal, a little more practice
and you'll have mastered it —"

"I don't want to master it," said Remus abruptly. "Respectfully, sir." He bent to pick up his
wand, barely suppressing a shudder. He never wanted to see that silvery creature again.

Professor Prewett was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "What is it
that troubles you so much?"

"I just — I don't understand. The Patronus represents who I am, doesn't it? So why does it
look like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like a wolf!" exclaimed Remus. "Is that all I am? Does it define me?" He glared at
Professor Prewett, as though the shape of his Patronus were the Defence Professor's fault. "I
am more than the thing I become once a month."

Professor Prewett's red-rimmed eyes were pained. "Of course it doesn't define you, Lupin."
He placed a hand on Remus' shoulder. "And a Patronus does not represent who you are. It is a
spell that protects against evil — nothing more, nothing less."

"I don't mean to disagree with you, sir," said Remus stiffly, "but according to our textbook,
the Patronus arises from the deepest, most secret part of the self — a hidden source of
strength that can only be called upon in times of desperate need."

"An excellent summary of Professor Spangle's theory," said Professor Prewett. "But if you've
read the entire chapter, then surely you remember what comes next."

Begrudgingly, Remus said, "He wrote that it isn't uncommon for a Patronus to take a form
that the caster feels no particular affinity towards. That it's possible to actively dislike your
Patronus…"
"Exactly," said Professor Prewett. "You're not the first to despise the form that your Patronus
takes, and you won't be the last. That's a small comfort, I hope."

Some comfort. But Remus wasn't going to argue further; it was embarrassing enough that he'd
lost his temper a moment ago. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"For the record, Lupin, I'm happy to listen to whatever you have to say," said Professor
Prewett. "I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I can empathise with your pain, at least.
It's a heavy burden that we bear — but bear it we must, to the best of our ability."

"Speaking of our — our shared burden." Remus forced himself to take several deep breaths,
trying to slow his pounding heart. "Can I ask you a question about that?"

Professor Prewett inclined his head. "Of course."

Remus very nearly lost his nerve. But the boggart had said he was on the right track. And he
needed to know. "What were you and your brother doing in Albania?"

Professor Prewett opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Remus continued. "You
said you were on holiday, but… that's not entirely true, is it?"

"I'm not sure what you're getting at, Lupin," said Professor Prewett. "I've already told you
what happened."

"With all due respect, sir, I think there's more to the story. You see, my friend's uncle was
murdered in Albania last week. I find the coincidence hard to believe. Did the vampires get
him, too?"

Unexpectedly, Professor Prewett's eyes filled with tears. Remus' anger vanished; he realised
he had gone too far. "Professor," he said, "I'm sorry, I…"

Professor Prewett shook his head. "No need to apologise, Lupin." He gave Remus a small,
reassuring smile as he wiped his eyes with his violet scarf.

"You knew him," Remus realised. "You knew Alphard Black."

Professor Prewett wrung out his scarf, looking troubled. "I suppose there's no use denying it,
is there? Yes, Lupin — I knew Alphard well."

"You're a member of the Order." Remus meant it as a question, but his voice came out flat.

Professor Prewett looked perplexed. "How do you know about the Order of the Phoenix?"

"I've got a friend who's a member," said Remus vaguely. "Professor, please — what does the
Order want in Albania?"

Professor Prewett sighed. "It's not a matter of what the Order wants," he said. "It's what Lord
Voldemort is after."

"Voldemort, sir?"
Professor gave Remus a long, keen look, obviously weighing how much to divulge. At last,
he said, "Voldemort is... a bit of a magpie, Lupin. He likes to collect things, we don't know
why. He and his followers have been searching for something that's rumoured to be hidden in
Albania. The Order has been after it, too — to keep it from falling into Lord Voldemort's
hands."

The Dark Lord... collected things, like a magpie? Remus had a sudden mental image of a
winged Voldemort sitting in a nest, his skeletal arms full of trinkets. "What's he looking for?
Sir?"

"We've never been certain," said Professor Prewett. "Something that once belonged to a great
wizard, perhaps. It's possible that even the Death Eaters don't know what they're after."

Professor Prewett's voice was carefully measured, and Remus knew there was more to the
story than the professor was letting on. Professor Prewett likely knew exactly what
Voldemort was hunting for; he just didn't want to let Remus in on the secret.

That's for the best, Remus reminded himself. Hogwarts students shouldn't be privy to
knowledge that could alter the course of the war.

On the other hand… finding out what was hidden in Albania might give Sirius closure. Didn't
he deserve to know the circumstances surrounding his uncle's death?

Remus left the North Tower with a plan forming in his mind and conviction in his step.
Whether Professor Prewett realised it or not, he had given Remus an excellent starting point.
And Remus was certain that the Marauders could discover whatever it was Alphard Black
had died to protect.

Lily was at the desk in her bedroom, filling out an order form for candles from Wiseacre's
Wizarding Equipment in Diagon Alley.

Five hundred votive candles, paraffin wax, she wrote. One thousand floating candles,
beeswax —

She paused. The drawer of her bedside table was slightly open.

Curious, she rose from her desk and opened the drawer the rest of the way. Atop the Muggle
novel she'd been reading was an envelope, addressed in precise script to one Lily Evans.

She picked it up. Oddly, the envelope was paper-thin and milky white, instead of the thick,
off-yellow sort that wizards and witches normally used. And there was a stamp in the corner.

It's a Muggle letter, Lily realised. But what sort of Muggle would send her a letter? It wasn't
like she had many Muggle friends in Cokeworth, after all.
Her eyes flicked to the return address in the corner. Her fingers tensed, crumpling the flimsy
envelope.

Petunia.

A house-elf must have tucked the envelope into the drawer for her to find; it wasn't as if
Petunia could have sent the letter through owl post, after all. But why would Tuney write to
her? She'd never done so before, not in the seven years Lily had been a student at Hogwarts.
The reason for that was obvious: writing to Lily at Hogwarts was a tacit admission that she
was a witch. God only knew that Tuney hated acknowledging that little fact.

So what could have possibly driven Petunia to send her a letter? Could something have
happened to their mum — was she…?

Before Lily could finish that horrible, insidious thought, she slit the envelope open.

Lily,

Mum told me that I should let you know about something that's happened recently. Vernon
proposed at the end of the summer — we're to be married next spring. I'm over the moon, of
course, and have already got my hands full with planning the wedding.

Mum says we ought to have dinner together over your winter holidays — you, me, and
Vernon. She thinks you and Vernon ought to get to know each other better. I don't see the
point, considering you're not the one marrying him, but we ought to make her happy, don't
you think?

— Petunia

P.S. On the off chance that you've also got somebody special in your life, Mum says feel free
to invite him as well (Please do not do this. It's too early to spring one of your sort on poor
Vernon. Not that anyone ever listens to me).

P.P.S. If you don't write back, I shall assume that the postman got lost on the way to that
castle of yours, and forget about this dinner matter entirely. And if you do write back, send it
the normal way. You know how I feel about owls.

Lily set down the letter and began to chew distractedly on a nail. Well, her mum wasn't dead,
so that was good. But Petunia was engaged, and to that horrible walrus of a man — Vernon
Durnsby, or whatever his name was.

There was nothing Lily would rather do less than have dinner with Petunia and Vernon. She
could already imagine how it would go: Tuney would be on edge the entire night, afraid that
Lily would let slip that she was a witch, while Vernon monologued about drills.

But Lily didn't see any way out of it. She could decline to write back — which Tuney
certainly wouldn't complain about — but that would do nothing to satisfy their mum.
Stubbornness was an Evans family trait; their mum was unlikely to drop the matter of the
dinner until both she and Petunia agreed to attend.
There was only one thing for it, then — Lily would grit her teeth endure the dinner by getting
outrageously drunk on wine.

Unless…

She re-examined the letter, tapping her lip with her quill. Tuney had included that bit about
inviting a special someone along. Perhaps James —

No. Had she gone mad? James wasn't really her boyfriend. No matter what they pretended in
public, he was not her special someone. Inviting him to the dinner would only complicate
things further.

I'm setting myself up for heartbreak, she thought, and she was suddenly so frustrated that she
wanted to rip up her sister's stupid letter. God. Out of all the boys at Hogwarts, why was she
losing her mind over James Potter, of all people? It was utterly embarrassing.

She filled out the order form for Wiseacre's and penned a reluctant reply to Petunia, then
went to the Owlery. Though she was fully aware of Petunia's request to use Muggle post, she
sent both letters by owl — it was impossible to resist the opportunity to get under her sister's
skin.

She skipped down the staircase, imagining what Tuney's expression would be when the owl
arrived. The next item on her agenda: finding James. She needed to update him about the
candles she had ordered, that was all. Head Boy and Girl stuff, completely reasonable.

She searched the castle for nearly an hour before she gave up. It was ironic, really; he had an
uncanny ability to locate her, no matter where she was. And in previous years, when she
hadn't been able to stand him, he'd been everywhere she had turned. Yet now that she could
actually tolerate him — enjoyed tolerating him, honestly — he was more elusive than ever.

God. She really was smitten, wasn't she? James Potter wasn't elusive. Odds were he was
practising Quidditch. And the Quidditch pitch was the one place she refused to set foot unless
absolutely necessary.

Well. Lily might have been smitten, but she refused to spend more than an hour looking for
James. She still had some semblance of dignity, after all. With a sigh, she adjusted her bag on
her shoulder and headed to the library to study.

She hadn't even gotten as far as the Charms section of the library when she stopped dead in
her tracks. James Potter was seated in an alcove to her right, hunched over a tattered book.
Beside him was a stack of books nearly as tall as he was.

Her traitorous feet marched towards him before she was fully aware that she was moving.
James looked up, surprised. "Oh — alright, Lily?"

"What're you doing in the library?"

"Er," he said, and he held up his book. "Reading?"

"I've been looking for you for — for half an hour." More or less. "You never spend time in
the library."

"That," he said, "is blatantly untrue. I had detention here with Madam Pince just last month."

The corners of her lips tugged upwards. Traitorous lips. "Coming to the library once a month
hardly makes you a regular, James."

He grinned. "Well, you've found me now. Was there something you needed?"

He was so disarming when he looked at her like that. "Oh, nothing much," she said. "I sent
off that form to Wiseacre's, that's all. The candles should be here by the end of the month."

"Brilliant," he said. "That reminds me — I'm going to speak to Madam Rosmerta, at the
Three Broomsticks. I want to see if she'll supply us with mince pies and sausage rolls for the
Illumina celebration. That's the traditional food, you know."

"That's — a good idea, actually," she said. "Where did you learn about that?"

James cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. He glanced at the book in his lap.

"James," said Lily slowly, "are you reading about Illumina?" That was… astonishingly
responsible of him.

"There's no need to look so surprised," he said.

"You're in the library, alone, researching your Head Boy duties," she responded. "I ought to
take a picture."

James smiled sheepishly. "You probably should. Nobody would believe you if you told them
you caught me reading Hogwarts: A History."

"Are you really? Reading Hogwarts: A History, I mean."

"Yeah." He lifted the well-worn book to show her its cover. "I realised during our talk with
McGonagall that I've got a blind spot when it comes to Muggle-born history. So I'm trying to
correct that." He nodded to the stack of books beside him.

Lily blinked. "That's…" She searched for a word that wouldn't reveal how touched she was.
"That's very decent of you, James."

"It isn't a big deal," he said. "It's the least I can do, learning about wizarding history. Proper
wizarding history, not the glossed-over bits we get from Binns. Did you know that anti-
Muggle-born sentiment existed before the Founders established Hogwarts?"

Naturally, she did. She'd learned about the roots of Muggle-born prejudice when she was
eleven. "I've read about that, yeah."

James shook his head, disgusted. "I always thought that blood status was something that
Salazar Slytherin made up, but Morgana le Fay wrote an entire treatise on blood purity a
hundred years before he was even born. And don't get me started on Perseus Parkinson, who
tried to pass a law about, quote, 'wizard-Muggle miscegenation'…"

Lily wondered if he'd gotten to the Muggle-baiting atrocities during the seventeenth century.
"There's a lot of ugly bits in wizarding history," she said.

"You're telling me," he said. "I didn't know any of this! I can't believe how ignorant I was. Of
course Voldemort didn't emerge from a vacuum. Of course there's a reason so many people
are drawn to him. This anti-Muggle-born bullshit has been going on for centuries!"

She nodded and took a seat beside him in the alcove. "I suspect that as long as there's been
magic, there's been prejudice."

He ran a hand through his hair in distress. "How can you stand it? It must be so difficult —
people making assumptions because of your blood. As if that's what determines the calibre of
witch you are. You must want to punch us all in the face."

"It is tempting, at times," Lily admitted, and James laughed. "Honestly, though — you get
used to being an outsider. I did, at least. That doesn't mean it's not frustrating — it's
infuriating. But at the same time… it's complicated. Being underestimated only makes me
want to work harder to prove everyone wrong." There was so much more she wanted to say;
an avalanche of unfiltered thoughts threatened to spill from her mouth.

"That's what's so ridiculous about it all," he said. "You're not an outsider. It's not like you're
half-witch, half-Muggle. You're one hundred per cent witch, just like I am."

She raised her eyebrows. "You're a witch?"

He waved a hand, not flustered in the least. "You know what I mean. Magical ability is all or
nothing. You belong. Just as much as I do. It's only — it's only in people's heads that you
don't. And as far as I'm concerned, they can all get fucked."

Lily let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Thank you," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For asking what it's like. I don't think anyone's ever asked me how it feels to be Muggle-
born before."

"Well, they should have," said James. "You — er." He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his
nose. "Any time you want to talk about it — even if you just want to whinge — you can, er,
you can talk to me. Alright?"

He was looking at her with that earnest expression he had; a sunbeam shone golden
highlights into his curly black hair. Lily could have kissed him.

Instead, she reached over and squeezed his hand briefly, dropping it before she did something
she would regret. "Alright. Thank you."
James looked down at his hand, as though he couldn't believe she had willingly touched him.
"Right," he said. "That's settled, then. Good." He fidgeted, then ran both hands through his
hair, looking somewhat bewildered.

"Speaking of Muggles," said Lily, "I don't suppose you interact with them, much?"

James shook his head. "I mean, Muggles are everywhere in London, of course, but it's not as
if I chat them up on the Tube or anything. I did have a couple of uncles who were Squibs,
growing up, but they've passed on, now. Why do you ask?"

"I don't suppose," said Lily, and her lungs suddenly refused to expand, so she had to pause for
breath. "You, erm, wouldn't be interested in having dinner with my sister and her fiance,
would you?"

James' head snapped towards her, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "You want me to meet
your sister?"

"Don't get too excited," she warned. "Tuney's a fairly unpleasant person on a good day, and
her fiance is even worse."

"They'll like me," said James confidently. "I can be quite the charmer, you know."

"Right. That must be why I spent the past six years avoiding you. All that charm."

"Won you over in the end, though, didn't I?" His grin was devilish.

Lily couldn't argue with that logic. "We don't need to — to pretend we're dating with them, if
you don't want. It's not like they'll tell anyone, after all."

"Oh," said James. "But if you don't need a dashing fake suitor, then… er, why are you
inviting me?"

Because I fancy the pants off you. "Because… my sister and I don't get along well. And I
can't stand her fiance. If I go to the dinner alone, I'll probably fly off the handle and ruin
everything." She sneaked a glance at him and added, "It would be nice to have a friend there
with me. For moral support."

He gave her a look she couldn't quite read. The confident little smirk at the edge of his lips
suggested he was proud to be called her friend. But why didn't that smile reach his eyes? "I'm
quite good at moral support. It's my second-best feature."

"After your charm, I'm assuming?"

"See? You can't deny it." He leaned back, and his shoulder brushed hers. "I'll do my best to
make sure you don't go mad at the dinner. Though if they're as bad as you say, I can't promise
I won't lose my temper."

"You don't have a temper."

"Yes, I do."
"James. I know you practically as well as I know myself at this point. It's so difficult to get
under your skin that it's genuinely unnerving."

He looked suddenly worried. "Yeah?"

Lily backtracked hurriedly. "That was supposed to be a compliment. I just meant that you
always keep a cool head. Things just roll off your back — things that would send me into a
rage. It's really… it's nice." I admire that about you.

She rose from the alcove, because if she stayed any longer she would probably let slip a
deeply embarrassing confession of love, and she was not ready for that conversation.
"Anyway. I'd better get started on Slughorn's essay. See you in the Heads' dormitory?"

James looked like he was still processing what she'd said about him being even-tempered. "Er
— yeah. Yeah, of course. See you later, Lily."

"Right." Sirius snapped shut the book he'd been reading and tossed it over his shoulder. "That
was another waste of time, unless we think Voldy's after the Music Box of Perpetual Song —
it's kept in an Albanian museum, apparently…"

Remus pointed his wand at the book just before it hit the library floor. "Accio." The leather-
bound tome zoomed into his hand, and he levitated it onto the shelf where it belonged. "I
can't see Lord Voldemort having an appreciation for music. And Madam Pince will have your
head if she catches you manhandling her books like that."

Sirius shrugged and grabbed another book from the pile between them on the table. They'd
spent all afternoon researching what might be hidden in Albania, but hadn't found any leads.

At least Sirius was enthusiastic about the research, for which Remus was glad. In fact, Sirius
had thrown himself into the task with single-minded fervour: his drive to know the truth had
replaced his anguish over Alphard's passing. He needed answers about what had happened to
his uncle — and Remus would do his best to help uncover them.

"Huh," said Sirius after a moment. "According to this, Modesty Rabnott spent some time in
Albania shortly before her death in 1549. She invented the Crystal Ball of Truesight, do you
think…?"

"The Ball of Truesight is in Paris," said Remus. "It's on display at the Louvre. I think we
would have heard if someone had stolen it."

"Not if Voldy left a fake in its place! Nobody would be any the wiser. Think about it, Moony
— it's the perfect crime."

Remus lifted an eyebrow. "You've got an impressive imagination."

"And you've got none at all." Sirius stretched his leg under the table to nudge Remus' shin
playfully. "I doubt old Vee would be after something of Rabnott's, anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Well, he's a bit of an egomaniac, isn't he? Strutting about, making people call him 'Lord'… I
bet he fancies himself the next Grindelwald. Rabnott probably isn't famous enough for him to
want something of hers."

"That's quite a keen insight into the mind of a Dark Lord," said Remus.

"Well, I do have a huge ego, myself," said Sirius, "Takes one to know one, and all that."

"Yeah," said Remus. "But unlike Voldemort, you're lacking the devoted following."

"Excuse you. I've got devoted followers."

"Daisy Hookum doesn't count."

"You, James, and Pete do, though." Sirius winked.

He had a point. "Heaven help us if you ever decide to dominate Britain."

"Exactly, but — let's focus, Moony," said Sirius, as though he wasn't the reason they got
sidetracked in the first place. "I think we ought to make a list of the top ten most famous
wizards and witches. Let's say, since the time of Merlin?"

"Simple enough," Remus deadpanned. "Not much has happened in the past twelve hundred
years, so the list will be a short one…"

Sirius chucked a book at him, which Remus turned into a paper plane. It soared over his
head, did a lazy loop above their table, then dive-bombed Sirius, who swore loudly.

"Focus, Padfoot," said Remus. Sirius responded with a rude gesture. "So are we making a list
of famous British wizards, or wizards who would be known throughout the entire world?"

"Might as well do both," said Sirius. "We don't know how large old Vee's ambitions are, after
all."

After another half an hour, they'd compiled a reasonable list of the twenty most famous
witches and wizards that they could think of. "Excellent," said Sirius. "Now to cross-
reference these names with books that mention Albania… might need to include Greece and
Yugoslavia too, just to be certain…"

It was tedious work, and Remus was someone who enjoyed reading. After a further hour of
research, he rubbed his eyes. "Well, that's another name off the list," he said, crossing 'Herpo
the Foul' off the parchment. "He spent his entire life in Crete, apparently — hated flying, and
Portkeys hadn't been invented yet."
"Good work," said Sirius approvingly. Unlike Remus, he seemed to become more energised
with every dead end.

"Thanks," said Remus. "Only seventeen names to go, now…"

"Don't be a pessimist, Moony. The next wizard could be the one!"

"Right. I should be so lucky." Remus opened a copy of The Ravenclaws: Rowena's Riveting
Record and began to skim the first chapter.

When he reached chapter thirteen, his eyes widened. "Padfoot."

Sirius' head snapped up. "Did you find something?"

"I — I think so." Remus turned the book towards Sirius and pointed to the paragraph he'd
been reading. "Read this bit about Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena."

"'Though as a child, Helena Ravenclaw was said to possess wit and cunning equal to that of
her mother's, little is known about her adult life,'" Sirius read aloud. "'After graduating
Hogwarts in 996, the enigmatic witch is thought to have worked as an assistant to her mother
— at least, until Helena suddenly fled Britain entirely. Where she went is unknown, though
most experts surmise she spent time in the Balkans. Rowena never recovered from the shock
of her daughter's unexpected parting; the great witch fell ill shortly after and ultimately
passed away without ever being reunited with the daughter she so adored.'"

"What do you think?" asked Remus.

"I think whoever wrote this is full of shit," said Sirius. "Rowena never recovered, my arse… I
bet she was awful to her daughter. Helena probably couldn't wait to be out from under her
thumb."

"Not all mothers are as bad as yours," said Remus mildly.

"No, but I've got enough experience with batty mums to know one when I see one. Or read
about one, at least. Trust me — Helena fled the country to get away from her mum, and
Rowena went batty with rage after she left. I'd bet all the gold Uncle Alphard left me on it."

"Alright," said Remus. He didn't actually believe that one of the founders of Hogwarts could
have mistreated their child, but he didn't want to argue. "Setting aside Rowena Ravenclaw's
parenting skills for a moment… d'you reckon Helena took something valuable with her to the
Balkans?"

Sirius' brow furrowed. "Maybe. But Rowena didn't have many powerful artefacts associated
with her, did she? Unlike Gryffindor, with his sword and hat… and practically every pure-
blood family's got a relic of Salazar Slytherin's. That's what they all claim, at least."

"What about Ravenclaw's diadem?" asked Remus. "The lost one, that nobody's ever been
able to find."
"Can't have been," said Sirius, shaking his head. "It's well-documented that the diadem was in
Rowena's possession until she died — she wrote several letters mentioning it, even. This
book's even got a copy of one of those letters, look…"

Remus skimmed the page that Sirius held out to him. "That does seem pretty definitive," he
admitted. "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Well, what if she lied?"

Sirius' grey eyes widened. "You think Helena took the diadem when she went to Europe?"

"I think it's possible," said Remus. "Bit suspicious, isn't it, that Rowena just happened to
write a bunch of letters mentioning that she definitely still had the diadem? Smells of a cover-
up, if you ask me." He sketched in the air with his hand, pretending to write a letter. "'Dear
Godric Gryffindor, just thought you should know that I've got on my diadem, the one very
much still in my possession. Will send identical letter next week. Love, Rowena Ravenclaw.'"

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "Alright. Let's say Helena took the diadem to Europe. Even if
she was in the Balkans, we don't know that she went to Albania, specifically. And there's not
a lot of information out there about 'Rowena Ravenclaw's enigmatic daughter'…"

"Why don't we ask the Ravenclaw ghost?" asked Remus.

Sirius looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. "The fit one that doesn't talk? Why would
we do that?"

"She talks," said Remus. "She helped me find my way to the History of Magic classroom
once, when I was a first year."

"Alright, but what's the Grey Lady got to do with Ravenclaw's diadem? She's just a ghost,
like Headless Nick. They're not actually important."

Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You've studied her enough, if you think she's so fit.
Who does she remind you of?"

"Er, I dunno," said Sirius. "She looks a bit like Emma Vanity, if you squint…"

"Pads," said Remus exasperatedly. He took the book they'd been examining and flipped to the
first chapter, where a full-colour portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw peered up at them.

Sirius gawked at the illustration. "You think the Grey Lady is a Ravenclaw?"

"Don't deny it. She could be Rowena's sister, they're so alike."

"You've got a point." Sirius rose from the table and clapped his hands together. "Alright, then.
Let's go interrogate a ghost."
The Grey Lady was not in the mood to be spoken to, it turned out. As soon as she noticed
Remus and Sirius approach her, she turned and disappeared into the nearest wall. Half an
hour later, they found her gliding along the corridor outside the infirmary.

Sirius whistled to get her attention. "Got a minute, Miss Grey?"

She stiffened, then sank through the floor, vanishing completely.

"I don't think she goes by 'Miss Grey,'" observed Remus.

"Well, what was I supposed to call her?" said Sirius.

"Try addressing her as 'hey, you' next time — it might be more effective."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm getting the feeling that she doesn't want to speak to us. Told you
she doesn't talk."

"She does talk. Just not to Gryffindor arseholes like us, apparently."

Sirius snapped his fingers. "That's it! We'll have to disguise ourselves as Ravenclaws. I'll get
a couple of house-elves to nick us a set of Ravenclaw robes. The Grey Lady won't be any the
wiser."

There was so much wrong with that idea that Remus didn't know where to start. "First off,
Pads, you can't ask the house-elves to steal for you."

"Why not?"

"Because it's utterly immoral. And I'll take points."

"Well, if the House Cup hangs in the balance, that changes things entirely." Sirius elbowed
him in the ribs.

"Secondly," said Remus, trying to ignore Sirius' elbow digging into his side, "The Grey Lady
is not going to fall for a stupid trick like that. Especially not if she's actually descended from
Rowena Ravenclaw, as we suspect."

"You might have a point." The pain in Remus' side disappeared as Sirius pulled his arm away,
and he was surprised by how much he missed it. "Luckily for us," said Sirius, "I've got a
backup plan. We'll have to use the old standby."

Remus didn't like where this was going. "Which is?"

"I'll charm the pants off her, of course," said Sirius.

Another terrible idea. "Not the literal pants, I hope."

"You bring up an excellent point, Moony," said Sirius. "Do ghosts wear undergarments? That
can be our next bit of research, after we solve this Albania mystery…"

Remus smiled despite himself. "I am not researching that with you."

"You'll come around," said Sirius confidently. He checked his slightly-tarnished Muggle
watch and swore. "Mind if we call off our pursuit of the Grey Lady? I've got Quidditch
practice in ten minutes, and James will have my head if I'm late… again…"

Ten minutes was barely enough time to reach the Quidditch pitch from the first floor, but
pointing that out wouldn't help matters. "Go ahead," said Remus. "The match against
Slytherin is next weekend, isn't it?"

Sirius nodded. "James has got us practising every evening this week. He really wants to win
the Quidditch Cup this year." He glanced at Remus, looking hopeful. "You'll be at the match,
right?"

"Pads. I wouldn't miss it."

"True." Sirius suddenly looked very solemn. "Could you promise me something, Moony?"

Anything. "Perhaps. What is it?"

Sirius stepped closer to Remus. His straight, aristocratic nose nearly brushed against Remus'.
He was close enough to touch — close enough to kiss. Remus' lips parted.

Finally, Sirius spoke. "If it looks like Regulus is about to catch the Snitch on Saturday, curse
him from the stands, will you?"

Remus' mouth fell open. It took him a moment to respond. "Godric's teeth, Padfoot," he
spluttered, pushing Sirius away. "I thought you were going to ask for my hand in marriage,
the way you were acting."

"That can be —"

Remus spoke over him. "The answer is no, by the way. I'm not cursing your brother."

"Pity. Not even if I bat my eyes at you?"

Remus made a rude hand gesture and turned away. "Go to Quidditch practice before James
takes fifty points from Gryffindor for tardiness. Again."

As Sirius jogged away, Remus resisted the urge to watch him go. He'd have ample
opportunity to, erm, observe Sirius in his Quidditch leathers during the match on Saturday,
after all.

The damn dog knows exactly what he's doing, thought Remus. If only he didn't turn to mush
whenever Sirius was close.
And how was Sirius so good at flirting? It was almost impossible to turn him down when he
became that charming and coy version of himself. Remus had to admit that he liked Sirius
like that. It was alluring.

And dangerous. If they crossed the line, things would end in disaster — Remus was sure of it.
Because who in their right mind would choose a werewolf for a partner? To willingly become
a part-time caregiver to a societal reject? Sirius deserved better.

That was why they could never be together. But… Remus was only human. Partially human,
at least. It was difficult to always be the cautious one, the prudent one, and his resolve was
weakening.

Besides. A small part of him whispered that if Sirius was determined to break his heart,
perhaps Remus ought to let him do it.

On Saturday afternoon, Remus and Peter made their way to the Quidditch pitch. It was a
clear, crisp November day, and the biting wind was a reminder that winter was weeks away.
They climbed to the top of the Gryffindor stands, where Lily and Mary McDonald were
sitting in the highest row. Lily waved a mittened hand at Remus, gesturing for them to sit
beside her.

"How much do you reckon we beat Slytherin by? Fifty points?" she asked.

"James won't be happy unless we win by a hundred points or more," said Remus. "He wants a
strong lead, a cushion for the rest of the year…"

"He's so competitive." Lily's gaze turned towards the Quidditch pitch, where the two teams
were lining up. "It's funny, really. He's normally so laid back, but get him started on
Quidditch and it's like he's a different person."

"Ah," said Remus knowingly. "So he made your week miserable with his preparations, as
well?"

"He's been waking up at four in the bloody morning to work out," said Lily. "I hear him
running up and down the staircase, it's driving me insane. And don't get me started on that
ridiculous diet of his."

Remus nodded. "Ten eggs for breakfast, plus toast and bacon."

"It's impressive, if a little sickening," said Lily. "He's going to give himself a coronary with
all the fat he's eating."

"Peak form requires sacrifices, apparently," said Peter.

Mary McDonald giggled, and Peter blushed. Remus raised an eyebrow at Peter, which only
made him blush harder. Down on the Quidditch pitch, Madam Hooch blew on her whistle,
and both teams took to the air.

The match was a quick but satisfying one, which pleased Remus, as his joints disliked
spending more than an hour seated on the hard wooden stands. The Slytherin team hadn't
found a suitable replacement for Mulciber, and their new Beater was utterly incapable of
stopping the Gryffindor Chasers from scoring. After nearly a dozen goals, Parvana put an end
to the slaughter by snatching the Snitch from under Regulus' nose.

Lily and Mary jumped from their seats, whooping; Peter gave Mary an exuberant, one-armed
hug and looked quite proud of himself for doing so. Remus stood slowly — the full moon
was five days away, and his hips really didn't like these stands — and clapped appreciatively.
He swore that Sirius looked towards him as he looped around the Gryffindor goalposts, one
fist raised triumphantly.

The students in the rows below them began to jostle one another, eager to rush onto the pitch.
Lily, Mary, and Peter joined them eagerly, and Remus followed, letting himself be swept
along by the crush of bodies that were spilling from the stands to the pitch.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, his ankle twisted beneath him. Remus was too
surprised to even cry out — he tripped, hitting the grassy pitch hard.

Nobody tried to help him up; Lily and the others hadn't noticed him fall as they disappeared
into the crowd ahead. Bodies streamed around him, and someone nearly stepped on Remus'
hand as he pushed himself up.

He suppressed the urge to snap at whoever had nearly stepped on him. He stood — Merlin's
balls, his hips ached — and brushed himself off.

It was at that moment that a wand dug into his spine.

A voice whispered into his ear. "Imperio."

A thrill spread through Remus' entire body, rushing from the tip of the wand where it pressed
into his back to the top of his head and the bottoms of his feet. The ache in his hips vanished;
he suddenly felt very, very good. Like he was floating, like he was dreaming…

The sensation vanished as quickly as it had started.

Remus blinked. He was standing stock-still as dozens of students streamed around him.
Nobody seemed to have noticed that someone had just…

Merlin's tits.

Someone had just tried to Imperius him.

He whirled around, earning strange looks from a group of Hufflepuffs as they shoved past
him. There was nobody else behind him, of course. Whoever it had been was long gone.

"Remus?"

Lily had come back to look for him. God bless Lily Evans, he thought.

She must have noticed something off in his expression, because she frowned. "Are you
alright?"
"I'm fine," he said. "Just had a little fall, that's all. Clumsy of me." He smiled reassuringly at
her. It was true enough, after all. He was fine. He hadn't been Imperiused.

That in itself was odd. The Imperius Curse was supposed to be nearly impossible to shake.
Then why…

The answer hit him as he followed Lily onto the Quidditch pitch, as glaring as the pain in his
hips.

He wasn't human. The Unforgivable Curses wouldn't work the same on him.

Remus fought to keep his expression pleasant as he pushed his way to James and Sirius, who
were surrounded by cheering Gryffindors.

"Moony!" cried Sirius, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "I hope you've still got that
bottle of Gamp's under your bed, because this calls for a celebration."

"It's all yours," said Remus, and Sirius cheered, putting his other arm around James.

Remus’ mind raced as they paraded back to the castle. Refrains of who and why and of
course, you're not human pounded through his head, drowning out the victorious chants from
the other Gryffindors. Once they were back in the Gryffindor common room, he let Sirius
pour him drink after drink, hoping that would quiet the alarm bells that were ringing in his
head.

Someone at Hogwarts was cursing students. And they had just come very, very close to
figuring out his secret.
 The Illumina Festival

The full moon rose that Friday, so James spent the evening as Prongs, leading the wolf on a
chase through the Forbidden Forest. It was exhilarating; the stag's flanks heaved as it
galloped, faster than the other creatures, faster than the wolf —

The dog and the rat trailed behind, nipping at the wolf's hind legs, keeping it from veering too
close to the castle. Prongs ran for hours, and although the dog and the rat grew tired, the stag
kept running, and the wolf followed.

They returned to the Shrieking Shack as the first rays of sunlight shone through the slats of
the boarded-up windows. The wolf collapsed on a pile of rags, panting heavily. It didn't even
whimper as its back arched and its limbs contorted; when its fur had fully receded, Remus
Lupin remained curled on the rags, soundly asleep.

"I don't believe it," Sirius whispered to James. "You actually wore him out. I didn't think it
was possible."

James let out a long yawn. "Yeah, well, he isn't the only one. That damn wolf has so much
energy. Wish I could spend the day napping in the hospital wing…"

"Speaking of, Poppy will be here soon," said Peter nervously. "We should go, yeah?"

They slipped out of the tunnel beneath Whomping Willow and went directly to the hospital
wing, where they waited until Madam Pomfrey brought Remus in.

"Morning, Poppy," said Sirius brightly.

Madam Pomfrey helped Remus onto a nearby cot and turned, narrowing her eyes. "Remus
needs rest, not —"

"We brought him breakfast," said James, and from behind his back he produced a plate piled
high with bacon and sausages.

A glimmer of a smile cracked Madam Pomfrey's stern façade. "Fine, Potter. You have ten
minutes."

"We'll be out of your hair in five," promised James. As soon as Madam Pomfrey walked
away, he, Sirius, and Peter crowded onto Remus' bed. "Alright, Moony?"

Remus rolled towards them, bleary-eyed. "Did we run to Glasgow and back last night? I'm
exhausted."

"You tried," said James, setting Remus' breakfast on the table beside his cot.

Remus eyed the food. "Not that I'm not grateful, but my stomach's a bit queasy…"
"You need something to replace all the calories you burned off last night," said Sirius. "Can't
have our Moony getting scrawny, can we?"

James grinned. "We should be off before Madam Pomfrey has our heads. See you in the
Heads' dormitory this evening, if you're feeling well enough —"

"Wait," said Remus. "There's something you should know."

"You copied my Charms essay last week?" said Sirius. "No need to apologise for that, I left it
out on purpose…"

"You wish. I admit I was tempted, but your second paragraph was a mess." Remus glanced
towards the far end of the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey was stripping the linens
from empty cots.

James pulled out his wand and cast a silent Muffliato around them. "What's this about,
Moony? You look worried."

"I am," admitted Remus. He fiddled with the edge of his blanket. "I think… I think somebody
tried to place me under the Imperius curse."

James' jaw dropped. "Somebody… what? Who?"

"I don't know. It happened during the Quidditch match. After the match, technically. I didn't
get a look at who it was."

"But you — you're okay, right?" spluttered Peter.

"Of course I am," said Remus. "It didn't work."

Unconvinced, Peter scrambled closer to Remus and peered into his eyes, as though he could
spot the Imperius curse lurking there. "You're certain it didn't work? What if — what if you
just haven't been commanded to do anything yet?"

Remus pushed Peter away. "I'm positive, Wormtail. My… furry little problem makes it rather
more difficult for me to be cursed, it would seem."

Sirius glowered. "I'm going to murder whoever did this."

"That," said Remus, "is appreciated, but entirely unnecessary…"

Sirius ignored him and turned accusingly to James, jabbing a finger at him. "You told us that
a psychopath's been Imperiusing people in the castle! Why haven't you caught them yet?"

"Er," said James, "I'm trying, but it's a bit difficult, turns out…"

"Not good enough," growled Sirius. "They've gone after Moony, and it's only sheer luck that
it didn't work. What if they try to Crucio him next?"

"Well, hopefully Moony will have an advantage there, too —"

"'Hopefully'," repeated Sirius with scorn. "We need to do better than 'hopefully'. We need to
catch whoever's going around cursing people. This stops now."

James ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Well, what do you suggest?"

"We check everyone's wand," said Sirius promptly. "Tell them it's part of prefect patrols or
something, I dunno. You're Head Boy, you'll figure something out."

"That's… not a bad idea, actually," said James. An idea occurred to him, and he leapt off the
cot. "Hang on, Padfoot — you're brilliant!"

A corner of Sirius' lip curled. "Am I, now? Go on."

James paced back and forth beside Remus' cot. "Illumina is in a couple of weeks. It's
supposed to be a celebration of inclusion — the message is that no matter your blood status,
you're welcome at Hogwarts." He turned to the others, smiling. "What if we make it a
wandless celebration?"

Remus rubbed his lips thoughtfully. "That might work, actually. You could pitch it as
something educational, even… say that students will learn what it's like to live as a Muggle
for a night, or something similar."

"Right," said James excitedly. "Meanwhile, you lot will collect the wands and analyse them.
We'll find the culprit in no time."

"Assuming they attend the celebration, that is," said Peter.

"They will," said Sirius. "Hogwarts is dead boring if you ask me. And whoever's Imperiusing
people must be extra bored to use Unforgivable curses as entertainment. I bet they'll jump at
the opportunity to shake things up for a night."

"That's settled, then," said James. "Moony, see if you can't keep your head down for two
weeks, will you? If you can make it to Illumina in one piece… we'll make sure whoever tried
to curse you is expelled."

"I'll do my best," said Remus, reaching for a sausage. "In the meantime, you lot had better
leave." He tilted his head towards the far end of the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey
was very obviously checking her watch.

James, Sirius, and Peter were out of the hospital wing before any of them could say
'Imperius'.

The first two weeks of December brought grey skies and more than one overnight snowfall,
so Lily woke most mornings to fresh piles of snow obscuring the view from her bedroom
window. As the end of the term drew near, her free time was increasingly taken up by
preparations for Illumina. She missed several Potions lessons to Transfigure the massive
stone wall that surrounded the castle grounds. After that, Professor Flitwick needed help
unpacking the hundreds of boxes of candles that had been delivered by Wiseacre's. She'd
barely finished when Professor McGonagall requested that she contact Madam Rosmerta at
the Three Broomsticks to order two hundred pounds of food for the celebration.

James helped, of course — he was surprisingly helpful, in fact — but the preparations were
endless. When she flung herself into bed at night, she fell asleep instantly, only to wake up
early and do it all again the next day. Secretly, she looked forward to getting the Illumina
celebration over with; she needed to get some rest over the winter holidays.

The second Saturday in December passed in a blur, as Illumina was scheduled to begin after
sunset. Lily and James spent the afternoon placing thousands of candles around the grounds,
lining the paths from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade with warm, flickering lights. The work was
intricate and exhausting; once they had finished, Lily skipped dinner in favour of taking a nap
in her dormitory.

She awoke to a fist pounding on her door. "Lily? You in there?"

James, she thought, sitting up. Her bedroom was pitch black; from the looks of it, the sun had
set some time ago.

"Shit," she said aloud, groping about for her wand, which had been swallowed by her sheets.
At last, her fingers closed around the familiar smooth willow wood. "Lumos."

Wandlight reflected off James' glasses as the door to her bedroom creaked open. "Alright,
Lily?"

"I fell asleep," she said, as though it weren't obvious. She slid quickly out of bed, adjusting
her robes and smoothing her hair. "What time is it?"

"Half-past seven. Illumina started an hour ago."

"Shit." Lily pointed her wand at her hair and it twisted itself into a neat ponytail. "Thanks for
waking me up. I would have slept right through it."

"Don't mention it. I thought you might actually want to see the fruits of our labour." James
waggled his eyebrows at her. "Shall we?"

She pulled on a coat and followed him to the Entrance Hall, where Peter and Sirius were
standing at the great oak doors. Sirius extended a hand towards her as she approached them.
"Your wand, please, Wondergirl."

"My…?" She glanced at James, confused.

"Ah," said James. "This was a last-minute addition. We thought a wandless celebration would
really help people get into the spirit of Illumina. Make them feel like a Muggle, you know."
He pressed his wand into Peter's hand. Peter promptly labelled it 'J. Potter' and placed it in a
box filled to the brim with other wands.
Reluctantly, Lily turned her wand over to Sirius. "If you lose mine, I'll curse the hair off your
head."

Sirius pushed open the door for her with a wink. "Wouldn't dream of it. Enjoy your night of
wonderment and unity!"

Lily gasped as she stepped outside. Thousands of candles flickered in the darkness, outlining
the winding paths that crisscrossed the Hogwarts grounds. As she stepped onto the nearest
path, she turned and looked up at the castle, which was aglow with candles tucked into the
alcoves of its stonework. Hogwarts shimmered before her, awash with light, enchanting.
Magical.

A figure in a wool coat brushed her shoulder. "Like it?" asked James.

"It's gorgeous. How did Flitwick get the candles up so high?"

"He might have had help." James sounded pleased. "My Comet 260 got a bit of a workout
this afternoon."

His hands pressed firmly but gently on her shoulders, and he spun her to face Hogsmeade.
"Shall we take a look at the wall?"

She could already see it, shimmering in the distance. "The Transfiguration worked?" They'd
spent hours on the wall, but only in daylight.

"Better than worked," he said. "McGonagall put the finishing touches on it, and — well.
You'll have to see for yourself."

Lily's eyes widened as they approached. The high stone wall was gone; the grounds were
now encircled by a massive ribbon of light. Each stone had been replaced by a ball of softly
glowing magical light that hung suspended in the air, arranged in strings that stretched twenty
feet tall. The lights swayed gently in the nighttime breeze, leaving just enough room between
them for students to weave in and out as they travelled to Hogsmeade.

At last, Lily found her voice. "This is incredible."

James nodded. "Hard to believe that we did this, isn't it?"

They began to walk alongside the ribbon of light, following it as it curved around the
Quidditch pitch. Lily reached out a gloved hand and let her fingers trail from light to light.
Her fingers came away glowing. "It didn't look nearly as impressive in the daytime, you
know."

"Is that why you decided to sleep through the celebration?"

"I didn't…" she realised he was grinning and trailed off. "You're taking the piss!"

"I would never." He nodded at a colourful stand ahead of them, where Madam Rosmerta was
selling hot drinks to eager students. "Want a Butterbeer? My treat."
"I have the Galleons —"

"You can't buy your own drink. Illumina is a celebration about you."

"Me? I'm fairly certain Hogwarts: A History never mentioned that…"

James waved a hand. "You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually."

James looked at her, amused. "Me, pure-blood," he said, pointing to himself and then to her.
"You, Muggle-born."

His finger was nearly touching the top button of her coat. Lily resisted the urge to grab it. "Is
this your way of showing unity? Buying me a drink?"

"Exactly! I knew you'd get it." He snapped his fingers triumphantly, which pulled his hand
away from her coat. Shame.

The Butterbeer was frothy and hot, and she sipped it as they wound their way up the candle-
lit path towards the castle. It occurred to her that she wasn't entirely certain what they were
doing. As Head Boy and Girl, they might have helped set up for Illumina, but there was no
reason they needed to spend the celebration together as well. It wasn't as if they were on
patrol, after all, and they weren't pretending to date, either. James could have rejoined his
mates at any moment.

And yet here he was, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with her, chatting animatedly about the
festival. This had been happening more and more, lately: they'd been spending time together,
not out of necessity but because…

Why?

The answer warmed her from the inside out, more potent than the Butterbeer she was sipping.
Because he enjoys your company. And you enjoy his.

She snuck a glance at him as he talked. The golden candlelight illuminated his profile, his
sloping nose and the upward curve of his lips. He was beautiful.

James' eyes met hers, and his smile faded a little; he looked puzzled. "Is there something on
my face?"

"No!" Lily took a hasty gulp of Butterbeer, scalding her oesophagus as she swallowed. She'd
been staring at James like an idiot. Smooth, Evans.

"That's it for the grand tour, I'm afraid," said James as they reached the steps that led up to the
castle, and Lily's heart sank. This was the end of their night together. "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

The look he gave her was calculated. "Fancy a bit of flying?"

Lily clenched her jaw reflexively. She hated flying. Though if it was with James…

"I'd like that, actually," she said, surprising herself. What had gotten into her? She'd just
agreed to go flying.

His face broke into a broad grin. She tried to memorise the way he looked; she wanted to
make him smile like that every day. Tomorrow, and the day after, and forever.

"Wait here," he said, and he jogged around the side of the castle. He returned a moment later,
Comet 260 slung over one shoulder.

Lily eyed the broomstick apprehensively as he swung a leg over it. On second thought… "It's
a bit cold for flying, isn't it?"

"Oh, good thinking," he said, and Lily's body grew warm as he cast a Heating Charm on them
both.

"Hang on. I thought we weren't allowed our wands."

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "I might have nicked mine from the box when Peter wasn't
looking."

"James Potter, breaking the rules?" Lily placed a hand over her heart in mock astonishment.
"Consider me shocked."

"Thought you might be." He winked and motioned at the seat behind him on the broomstick.
"Coming?"

She straddled the broomstick hesitantly. "Is this a good time to mention that I haven't flown
in years?"

"No worries, Evans," he said, and the familiar sound of her surname on his lips made her
stomach do a jig. "I'll be doing all the flying. You just need to hold on."

Right. She needed to hold on. To James Potter.

Cautiously, Lily leaned forward and put her arms around James' waist. She could feel his
abdomen beneath his wool coat, taught and muscled. Maybe flying wouldn't be so bad after
all.

James kicked off against the ground and her optimism disappeared. She bit back the urge to
cry out and pressed her face into his back so that she didn't have to look at the ground.

Higher and higher they rose, and Lily regretted ever agreeing to go flying. Her thighs
clutched the broomstick so tightly that her legs shook.

The wind carried James' voice into her ear. "Alright, Lily?"

Her voice was muffled against the back of his coat. "Fine."
"You're sure about that? You're about to break me in two, you're squeezing so hard."

Well, that was embarrassing. But she wasn't brave enough to loosen her grip. "Sorry."

They were still climbing into the air. How high was he going to go, exactly?

After what felt like an eternity, the broomstick slowed. James shifted, reaching backwards,
and Lily let out a terrified squeak.

To James' credit, he didn't laugh. He twisted and carefully draped an arm around her.

If her heart hadn't been beating out of her chest before, it certainly was now. She risked a
glance up at him. "What is it? Is everything alright?"

He grinned at her. "Look down."

Her hands made fists in his coat as she turned her head, slowly, to see what lay beneath them.

"Oh," she said softly.

The grounds of Hogwarts twinkled like starlight in a pond. She could see all the lights at
once, from Hagrid's hut to the Quidditch pitch to Hogsmeade, all surrounded by the
shimmering, glowing ribbon of the Transfigured wall.

Her grip slackened for a moment. "It's beautiful."

"This is the best view," said James.

"It is." Her cheek was still against his coat, and his arm was still around her. She didn't dare
move, in case she broke the spell that held them together. Because surely only magic could
make her feel so safe, even when she was a mile off the ground.

How long they stayed like that, admiring the lights below, she didn't know. It wasn't long
enough.

Remus was in the staff room, poring over the array of wands on the table in front of him.
Each wand was regurgitating echoes of the spells it had recently cast, filling the room with
shadowy charms. Apart from the occasional hex, the spells were utterly mundane; no
Unforgivable Curses in this lot. After waiting another minute to be certain, Remus waved his
own wand and swept all the other wands off the table and into a box at his feet.

"Any luck?"

Remus looked up; Peter had entered the staff room, a box full of wands in his arms. "Afraid
not."
"At least we're narrowing down the culprit," said Peter.

That was a tad optimistic, in Remus' opinion. Suppose whoever had Imperiused him had
simply decided not to attend the Illumina celebration?

Peter placed the box he was holding on the table and picked up the one at Remus' feet. "I'll
hand these back out, yeah?"

"Be my guest," replied Remus. As Peter shuffled out, Remus picked a handful of wands out
of the box and spread them out on the table. He touched the tip of his own wand to each,
methodical. "Priori Incantatem."

Another chorus of ghostly spells filled the room. A yew wand to Remus' left cast the
Patronus Charm over and over, never producing more than smoke.

I know how that feels, thought Remus. Next to the yew wand was a thin, walnut wand that he
recognised; it belonged to one of the Ravenclaw prefects.

Well, whoever was going around casting Unforgivable Curses certainly wasn't a prefect.
Remus raised a hand, about to pick up the walnut wand and return it to the box, when
suddenly the wand hissed and began to leak thick, dark smoke.

Remus froze, his hand hovering in the air. The smoke enveloped his fingertips, black as ink.

A soft yet sinister voice echoed from the wand. "Imperio."

Remus stared for a moment. Then he shoved the walnut wand into his pocket and bolted from
the staff room.

As he approached the oak doors that led to the grounds of Hogwarts, Sirius and Peter looked
at him in alarm.

"You figured it out?" guessed Sirius. Remus nodded shortly.

"Great," said Peter, drawing his wand. "Point us at 'em and let's —"

"No, that's — that's alright," said Remus. "You two stay here. I'll talk to him myself.""

"Moony," said Sirius, "you're mad if you think we're going to let you go off on your own with
the lunatic who tried to Imperius you —"

"That's just it," said Remus. "He isn't a lunatic."

"Of course he is," said Sirius.

"No," said Remus, and he fingered the walnut wand in his back pocket. "He's a prefect."

Sirius and Peter gaped at him.

"Let me talk to him," said Remus. "I know him. I can figure out why he did what he did. It's
not as if he can harm me, anyway."

"I don't like it," said Peter.

"Nor I," said Sirius. "But I trust you, Moony. If you think you can handle it…"

"I can," said Remus. He fished about in his robes for the Marauder's Map, scanning it briefly,
and handed it to Sirius. "Our target's near the lake, apparently. Keep an eye on the Map for
me, will you? If it looks like there's trouble, grab James and come help."

He stepped through the great oak doors, heart thumping, and made for the eastern shore of
the lake. The pitch-black sky above filled his body with energy as he tramped through the
snow, purposeful and sure; on new moon nights like these, he always felt his strongest.

He could not wait to get his hands on that snotty Ravenclaw prefect.

The outer edges of the lake glowed with warm yellow light. Floating atop the dark water
were hundreds of candles in little boats that bobbed against the shore. The sight was enough
to make Remus slow his pace, acting as if he weren't in any particular rush. He was just here
to look at the candles, like everyone else —

There. A thin figure about Remus' height stood by a towering beech tree, staring out at the
lake.

Remus was on him in an instant, balling a fist into the prefect's robes and pressing him
against the beech tree, his wand at the prefect's throat. When he spoke, his tone was pleasant.
"Bartemius Crouch? We need to talk."

Crouch's green eyes widened and darted to the side, as if contemplating calling for help.

"I wouldn't yell if I were you," said Remus cheerfully. "You'll only attract the attention of the
professors, and I'd hate to have to tell them what you've been up to."

Crouch wet his bottom lip, clearly calculating. At last, he said, "I don't know what you're
talking about."

"Allow me to enlighten you, Bartemius," said Remus.

Crouch's face contorted upon hearing his own name. That was interesting. "It's Barty. Just
Barty."

"Barty, then. I had the most interesting experience after the Quidditch match a few weeks
ago. Somebody tried to Imperius me. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that,
would you?"

Crouch began to squirm, trying to get free. "Are you mad? Of course not. I — I'm a prefect,
for God's sake! Do you even know who my father is?"
"Interesting that you should bring up your father." Remus tightened his grip. "How do you
think he'll react when he learns that his son's been casting Unforgivable curses?"

"You've got — no proof —"

"None but your wand," said Remus.

Crouch stopped thrashing.

"Here's how this is going to go," said Remus conversationally. "The two of us are about to
take a stroll up to the seventh floor. You're going to tell the Headmaster everything you've
been up to. Dumbledore might show you mercy, but — I wouldn't count on it."

Crouch's green eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Turn me in, and you'll pay."

"I hate to break it to you, Barty, but the threats of a fifth-year prefect hardly make me quake
in my boots."

"Is that so? And what will you do when I tell people what you are?"

Remus was careful to modulate his voice. "What I am, Barty? I'm afraid I don't follow."

"I had you. You were right in front of me — inches away. The curse should have worked."
Crouch brought his face closer to Remus'. "But it didn't. Why not?"

"Maybe you're not as proficient a spell-caster as you think you are. Have you ever considered
that?"

"Or maybe you're not human."

Remus wished he had just a tad less self-control. He would have loved to turn this Crouch
boy into a centipede and throw him into the middle of the Black Lake. "You're speaking
nonsense."

"Am I? You say it's nonsense — does that mean you won't mind if I tell everyone you're a
thing?"

Remus hesitated, and Crouch broke into a triumphant grin.

"What are you, Lupin? A doppelgänger? A werewolf? No — Dumbledore wouldn't allow a

werewolf at Hogwarts, would he? Even he isn't that insane — "

Remus let the accusations wash over him. He took a single deep breath to gather his thoughts.
"I will say this only once. You mustn't speak of it, Barty. The Headmaster will expel you if
you do."

"So what? Expelling me was your plan in the first place, wasn't it? If you're going to ruin my
life, I might as well return the favour."
Remus shifted his weight uneasily; he was rapidly losing the upper hand. "I must admit, I'm
surprised," he said. "I never thought I'd meet a prefect who'd be alright with getting expelled.
Not to mention your father —"

"Leave my father out of this," spat Crouch.

"Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, isn't he? Can't imagine he'll be
pleased —"

"Maybe I don't give a damn what he thinks!"

Liar, thought Remus. The bitterness in Crouch's voice reminded him of Sirius' rants about his
parents. And was it his imagination, or did Crouch look afraid?

Bartemius Crouch, Senior isn't a very good father, thought Remus. Expelling Crouch would
certainly leave him at the mercy of his father's wrath.

Remus thought again of the Blacks — of Regulus, this time. If Crouch's upbringing had been
happier, would he still be Imperiusing people for fun? If his bad choices stemmed from a lack
of love, was it possible that he deserved a second chance?

As if you've any right to decide what others deserve, snarled a voice in the back of Remus'
mind. Werewolf.

Acting on a gut feeling, Remus released Crouch, though he kept his wand raised.

Crouch hunched against the trunk of the beech tree, looking wary. "What?"

"That's my question for you," said Remus. "We seem to be at an impasse. I want you
expelled, but you are certain to retaliate against me if I turn you in. How do we resolve this
matter?"

"We don't," snapped Crouch.

"That's one option," said Remus. "I would like to propose another."

Crouch lifted an eyebrow. "You're going to let me go?"

"I'm thinking about it. On two conditions."

"Let's hear them."

"First, you stop making students attack one another," said Remus. "That's what this comes
down to, doesn't it? You wanted to Imperius me and make me attack somebody else."

Crouch gave a little jerk of the head that might have been a nod. That was as much
confirmation as Remus needed.

"No more violence, Barty. That stops now. I'm giving you one chance to shape up, so don't
waste it. In the future, if I hear you've so much as thought about resuming your little pastime,
I'll go directly to Dumbledore."

Crouch licked his lips, mulling it over. "And the second condition?"

"I need to talk to the Grey Lady. You're going to arrange a meeting with her for me."

Remus was aware of how ridiculous the request sounded, and he wasn't surprised when
Crouch laughed.

"You need to speak to a ghost? Whatever for?"

"It's nothing that concerns you," said Remus. "I know she prefers to speak only to members
of her House. Can you convince her to talk to me?"

"I can try," said Crouch, looking at him curiously.

"Do we have an agreement, then?"

After a moment, Crouch nodded stiffly.

"Good." Remus reached into his back pocket and tossed Crouch his wand. He jerked his head
towards the castle. "Now get out of my sight before I regret striking a deal with you."

Crouch scrambled away from the lake without so much as a backwards glance. Remus kept
his wand trained on him, just in case. When Crouch had vanished from sight, he lowered his
wand, sighing.

That could have gone better, he thought. If only Crouch weren't so damned clever. If only he
hadn't guessed that Remus wasn't human, forcing him to make concessions.

Well, no use dwelling on it now. He stowed his wand and made his way back to the castle,
feeling weary and uncertain if he'd made the right call. The moonless sky above, which had
been so energising moments ago, now seemed foreboding in its darkness.

Hopefully whatever new information they could gather on the diadem would be worth letting
Crouch go free.
 A Cadre of Confessions
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The following Tuesday, Lily spent most of Herbology class trying not to stare at James.

There was no reason for her eyes to be so drawn to him, given that nothing about him had
changed recently. He hadn't gotten a haircut, wasn't wearing new clothes, and wasn't even
doing anything particularly interesting. He and his mates were clustered around a delicate
belladonna plant, daring one another to eat the poisonous berries they were harvesting. Sirius
plucked a dark purple berry and pretended to toss it in his mouth, but it sailed past his cheek
and onto the floor. James laughed, running a hand through his hair, and glanced at Lily.

She ducked her head and busied herself with tidying the dirt around the roots of her
belladonna. Beside her, Marlene snorted.

"You're blushing."

"No, I'm not," said Lily, though her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "It's just… it's hot in
here…"

"It's the middle of December," said Marlene.

"Be nice, Marly," said Mary. "I still can't believe it, you know."

"Believe what?" said Lily.

"That we'd ever live to see you swoon over James Potter," said Marlene.

"Are you two going on a date this weekend?" asked Mary. "It's the last Hogsmeade weekend
before the winter holidays…"

"Er, I'm not sure," said Lily. "We haven't talked about it, so probably not."

"'Probably not'?" said Marlene incredulously. With incredible swiftness, she snatched a berry
off their belladonna and chucked it at James, hitting him on the back of the head. "Potter!
Why aren't you taking Lily on a date this weekend?"

Lily groaned. "Don't…"

James turned, grinning. "Is that something I'm supposed to do?"

"If you're a half-decent boyfriend, then yes," said Marlene.

"Got it," said James, and he turned to Lily. "Meet me outside Madam Puddifoot's on Saturday
afternoon?" he asked with a wink.
Was that a cheeky, flirty wink, or a 'we-both-know-I'm-only-pretending' wink? Lily's face
grew hotter still. "Yeah, alright," she said.

"Brilliant," said James. He picked up the berry Marlene had thrown at him and was about to
toss it back, but Professor Sprout cleared her throat warningly, and he reluctantly placed it
into the bucket Remus was holding.

"That was so romantic…" sighed Mary, stroking one of the leaves of their belladonna.

"It's embarrassing, is what it is." Lily pressed the backs of her hands against her burning
cheeks. She needed to stick her face in an icebox.

Someone pushed her head down and ruffled her hair. "How goes the berry picking?" asked
Sirius, taking a seat beside her.

Lily smoothed the back of her hair. "Oh, it's fantastic."

"Is that so?" Sirius cast a pointed glance at the empty bucket at her feet. She took advantage
of his distraction and conjured a gust of wind that blew through the greenhouse, tangling his
hair. "Hey!" he said indignantly.

She stuck out her tongue. "Now we're even."

"Nice wandwork," said a voice behind her. James. He'd come over as well.

Lily's stomach began to fizz as if she'd just swallowed a mouthful of Butterbeer. She tried to
think of something clever to say, but her brain had turned to mush. "Thanks," she managed.

God. Why was she like this? Ever since the Illumina celebration, she'd been incapable of
acting normally around him. Which was his fault, technically, since he was the one who took
her flying and put his bloody arm around her. And now he was acting as though that had
never happened.

But she couldn't relax around him, and it was making things horribly awkward. She was
spending more and more time in her bedroom, instead of in the common area of the Heads'
dormitory. When she sat with the Marauders during dinner, performing their normal fake-
dating act, she could barely stand to feel his thigh brush hers. The merest touch sent a current
of electricity up her spine. Pretending he was hers — yet not really having him — was killing
her.

Who could have predicted she'd fall so hard for him? He was the same messy-haired boy
who'd teased her relentlessly since they were eleven years old. Yet when she remembered
how she'd despised him, it felt like she was thinking about a different girl entirely. Her
younger self had been hot-tempered and foolish, even spiteful; she couldn't reconcile that
version of herself with who she was now.

He'd always known exactly how to push her buttons, anyway. It had taken him no time at all
to realise that flirting with her was the quickest way to get her to blow up at him. As much as
she'd hated it then, she missed his playful teasing now. When was the last time he had asked
her out? During fifth year, perhaps?

Everyone had known he'd liked her back then. She'd hated his attention, but now she'd give
anything to have it back. If only his crush on her had lasted just a little longer. Maybe they
could have dated for real, instead of playing at it in public, only to go their separate ways
when alone in the dormitory.

By the time the bell rang, signalling the end of Herbology class, she was in a foul mood.

"Anybody want to take a stroll around the lake?" asked Marlene. "Mary and I have got a few
minutes until Muggle Studies starts…"

"Absolutely," said Sirius. "Bathsheba will be needing a snack, and we've got just the thing…"
He shook a bag that had a couple of suspiciously berry-shaped lumps in it.

"Please don't feed belladonna to the Giant Squid," said Marlene. "Hagrid would never
recover."

"It's alright," said James. "Squids can't metabolise nightshade toxins, so there's nothing to
worry about. You coming, Lily?"

"I…" started Lily. Her entire body craved to spend more time with him. Which meant she
probably shouldn't. "I would, but I just remembered that I, er, forgot something in the
dormitory. So."

James gave her an easy smile. "Alright, then. See you around."

She watched them go, biting her lip.

When she got back to the Heads' dormitory, she sank into the sofa by the hearth. The yellow
armchair where James usually sat caught her eye; he spent so much time there that the
cushions were indented with the shape of his body.

She pretended James was sitting in the armchair, bent over a roll of parchment as he scribbled
out an essay.

"I have something to tell you," she said softly. The imaginary James looked up, surprised.
"I…"

I fancy you so much it hurts.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she drew her knees up to her chest, breathing shakily. She
couldn't say it out loud, not even to a figment of her imagination.

How had she fallen so hard for him? Nothing about their relationship was real. All the
affection he had shown her was fake. A sham. Her vision blurred, and she swiped at her eyes.

"This was a horrible fucking idea," she told the imaginary James. "The Slytherins don't even
care that we're dating. Nobody does." She took a shuddering breath. "We haven't fooled
anyone except ourselves."

I was never fooled, she imagined James saying. I've known it was pretend all along. I'm
helping you out because we're friends, but I know exactly where to draw the line.

"I know," she said angrily. "You've done a fantastic job at holding up your end of the bargain.
You've done everything right. It was me, I've been an idiot — so stupid, letting myself
believe…"

That it meant something. That it was real.

When Lily went to bed that night, her eyes were red and swollen, but she was no longer
crying. She knew what she needed to do. She'd keep up the ruse a little longer — just until
Petunia's dinner. But after that… it was time to drop the act. She needed to end things with
James.

He wouldn't object; in fact, he'd probably be relieved. Breaking up, if it could be called that,
would give him more time to do what he loved most: playing Quidditch and hanging out with
his mates.

The more Lily thought about it, the more certain she became. Breaking up was the right thing
to do — for James' sake, if nothing else. It was their last year at Hogwarts; he should live his
life to the fullest, not be held back by a sham relationship. She could give him that, at least.
Doing so might break her heart, but she had no one but herself to blame for that.

On Thursday evening, Remus made his way to the Entrance Hall, ready to begin his prefect
patrol. He was scheduled to patrol with Pippa Haywood, a Hufflepuff girl who always wore
her curly hair in one long braid, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a boy with green
eyes and curly brown hair leaned against the door to the staff room, arms folded.

"Hello, Barty," said Remus, forcing himself to be polite. "I don't suppose you've seen Pippa,
have you? We're on duty tonight…"

"Pippa and I switched schedules," said Crouch. "I thought you'd be pleased — I've spoken
with the Grey Lady, and she agreed to talk to you tonight. I'll bring you to her."

He gave Remus an unsettling grin; it was clear he knew just how uncomfortable his
proposition was.

Luckily, feigning indifference was a speciality of Remus'. "Very well," he said. "Shall we be
off, then?"

The first ten minutes of their patrol passed in complete silence. When they reached the
second floor, however, Crouch opened his mouth.
"I've been doing a bit of research — the number of creatures that resist curses is quite large.
But I've been narrowing it down… you're not part-Veela, obviously, and a vampire is out of
the question, but you could still be a —"

Remus reacted without thinking. "Petrificus totalus." Crouch froze in place, mouth still open.

"I will tell you this once," said Remus, levelling his wand at Crouch. "Prying into my
business doesn't hold up your end of the bargain. One more insinuation that I'm not human —
if you so much as hint at it — I'll go directly to Dumbledore and tell him what you've done.
Do you understand?"

Crouch couldn't speak or nod. After a moment, he blinked several times, which Remus
interpreted as agreement.

"Glad we cleared that up," he said, and he lifted the Full Body-Bind Curse.

They didn't speak again until they reached the spiral staircase that led to Ravenclaw Tower. "I
don't suppose you and the Gray Lady decided on a meeting spot?" asked Remus pleasantly, as
if he hadn't just been at Crouch's throat.

Crouch pointed at a nearby corridor. "Down there. There's an alcove where she likes to read,
a little further on."

"Great," said Remus. "Take a ten minute break, will you? I'll be back soon." He began to jog
down the corridor, hoping to find the Grey Lady before Crouch could catch up.

The Ravenclaw ghost was, in fact, perched in an alcove, perusing a book that was as hazy
and insubstantial as she was. As Remus approached, her head snapped up, and she shut the
book.

"Hello," began Remus, but she had already sunk into the floor.

Two can play that game, Remus thought. Thanks to the Marauder's Map, he was better
acquainted with Hogwarts than most; it took him no time at all to find the Grey Lady drifting
past the Arithmancy classroom on the fourth floor.

"I just want to talk," he said quickly, before she could disappear again. "Bartemius Crouch,
from your house, said he'd put in a good word for me — I don't suppose he has?"

The Grey Lady eyed him suspiciously. "You are Remus Lupin?"

"Yes," said Remus. "I had… a question for you."

Her gaze was intimidating. "Proceed."

Well, it was now or never. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to Rowena
Ravenclaw's diadem, would you?"

He could tell immediately that it was the wrong thing to ask. The Grey Lady's expression
hardened.
"Of course not," she said, and she turned away from him, gliding down the corridor. "Frankly,
I'm disappointed. Bartemius made it sound like you had something important to ask."

"It is important!" Remus hurried to catch up with her.

"Is it? You come to me with the same trite question that every student in my House has
badgered me with. Utterly unoriginal."

"That's… fair," said Remus, racking his brain for a question that wouldn't anger her further.
"Alright, so you don't know where the diadem is. I understand. But do you know if Helena
Ravenclaw ever went to Albania?"

The Grey Lady stopped abruptly, and Remus actually walked through her. Teeth clattering as
if he'd just been dunked in ice water, he turned to face her; she looked starkly white, even for
a ghost.

"How do you know such a thing?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

Remus' pulse quickened. "So she did go to Albania."

The Grey Lady's shock was all the confirmation he needed. "You must tell no one," she
hissed. "Not a soul — there are things you do not understand, pieces of history that could be
ruinous if made known…"

"I won't," said Remus.

"Swear to it."

"On Merlin's grave, I swear it. I won't tell anyone. I promise."

The relief on her face was contagious, and he found himself smiling reassuringly at her. She
believed him. Of course she did; he was an excellent liar.

After returning to the Gryffindor boys' dormitory that night, he told Sirius immediately.

"Well, fuck me running," said Sirius. "You were right, Moony! Ravenclaw's lost diadem is
hidden in Albania. You brilliant wizard — I could kiss you —"

"Please don't," said Remus as Sirius launched himself onto Remus' bed and began to bounce
up and down.

"You know what this means, right?" asked Sirius.

"Er," said Remus, "we get an award for services to the school for figuring out what happened
to the diadem?"

"We're going to do better than that," said Sirius. "Let's go to Albania. Let's bring the diadem
back."

Remus stared at him. Then his leg shot out, and he kicked Sirius off the bed.
"What?" asked Sirius, scrambling to stand up. "You don't want to?"

"Padfoot. We can't go to Albania."

"Of course we can." Sirius looked over his shoulder at Peter, who was lying on the floor,
flipping through a magazine titled Omens and Oracles Quarterly. "You're in, aren't you,
Pete?"

"Me?" said Peter, startled at being addressed. "Er — I dunno, Pads. The Jinx…"

"I thought you said the Jinx already happened," said Sirius. "It came to pass when Uncle
Alphard died, right?"

"I mean, maybe," said Peter. "But what if the Jinx was really foretelling your trip to Albania?
You might get ambushed or worse after finding the diadem… maybe you never come
back…" He glanced at Remus, looking for support.

"Don't drag Peter into this," said Remus to Sirius. "I hate to disappoint you, really — but
travelling to Albania is a suicide mission."

"How's that?" asked Sirius.

"Didn't Dorcas say it's crawling with Death Eaters? For heaven's sake, your uncle was
murdered there, and we're nowhere close to his level —"

"Yes, we are," said Sirius stubbornly.

"We're not, Padfoot. Not to mention there's a coven of vampires in those woods."

"As if you'd know," said Sirius. "It's not like you've ever been."

Yes, but Professor Prewett has. "I have it on good authority," said Remus, careful to keep his
tone even.

Peter looked pale. "Honestly, Sirius. Vampires are bad news, I don't think we could fight off a
single one of them, let alone an entire coven…"

Sirius' brow furrowed; he chewed his lip, looking angry and hurt all at once. "If you two don't
want to come, fine. James and I will go. We don't need you."

Before Remus could respond, Sirius bounded out the door; his feet slapped loudly on the
staircase as he climbed to the Heads' dormitory.

Remus and Peter exchanged a look.

"The Jinx —" began Peter.

"It's alright," said Remus. "Jinx or not, going to Albania is a terrible idea. We're not doing it."

Peter's jaw unclenched. "Good."

"James will talk some sense into him," said Remus with more certainty than he felt.

A few minutes later, the door to the dormitory opened, and Sirius stormed in. James was
close behind him, and it was plain from the looks on their faces that they'd been quarrelling.

"Padfoot, please —"

"No," said Sirius, and he began to pace the room, restless.

"I love you, Pads, but we can't go to Albania," said James. "It's too —"

"Dangerous?" Sirius let out a mirthless laugh. "That's not why you don't want to go."

"It is, I swear —"

"Wrong. You just don't want to miss your little holiday date with Evans."

"Back to calling her 'Evans' now, are you?" James raised his voice, which in itself was
alarming; Remus couldn't remember the last time James had been angry.

"Don't deny it. You spend all your time with her —"

"You're being ridiculous, Pads. She's Head Girl — we share a dormitory for Merlin's sake,
how can I not…"

"I don't need you." Sirius pulled out his trunk and tossed his belongings haphazardly into it,
as though he were planning to leave for Albania that very night. "I don't need any of you. I'll
go by myself, if you're all such cowards —"

Remus closed his eyes. This was all his fault; he'd thought that discovering what was hidden
in Albania would bring Sirius closure. He hadn't expected Sirius to want to travel there out of
some misplaced sense of vengeance. Although… was it truly vengeance Sirius sought, or was
that just what Remus assumed?

"Padfoot," said Remus, and to his surprise, James and Sirius stopped bickering; they faced
him, waiting to hear what he had to say. "Why do you want to go to Albania so badly?"

"To avenge Uncle Alphard, obviously," said Sirius without hesitation.

Remus suppressed a groan. At least we heard it from his own mouth, he thought.

"And how does dying alone in Albania avenge your uncle, exactly?" asked James.

"I'm not going to die —"

Sirius' tone made it obvious that there would be no changing his mind. Reluctantly, Remus
took a deep breath and got to his feet. It was time to take responsibility for the mess he'd
caused.

"He's not going to die. And he won't be alone."

The other Marauders stared at Remus.

Remus looked at Sirius. "I'll go with you. But we're going to do this right. We're going to
prepare, instead of doing things half-arsed, the way you usually do. We'll make a plan and
stick to it, because I have no intention of getting murdered in some dismal forest in Albania."
He strode to the door; when he reached the staircase, Sirius was still staring as if Remus had
grown two heads.

"Are you coming or what?" asked Remus.

"Er, right," said Sirius, hastening to follow. Once they were out of the dormitory, he said,
"Where are we going, exactly?"

"Somewhere private," said Remus. They reached the seventh floor, and he led Sirius to the
corridor where his secret room was, crossing his fingers that it would actually be there. It was
funny — sometimes the room was present, and sometimes it wasn't. He could never figure
out the pattern to it.

They were in luck today, though; after Remus scoured the corridor a couple of times, he
noticed a brass doorknob jutting from the wall. He gestured for Sirius to enter first, then
followed behind.

The room itself was quite small: two armchairs faced one another, and crowded bookcases
lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Sirius' grey eyes widened as he looked about the room.
"You've brought me here before. After — after the prank I played on Snape."

Remus nodded as he lowered himself into an armchair. That had been the first time he'd ever
seen Sirius cry. "How things change, eh?"

Sirius grunted, noncommittal, and took the other chair. "So what're we doing here?"

"We're going to make a plan. Have you calmed down enough to behave like a rational human
being?"

There was a battered, peeling Quaffle at the foot of Sirius' chair; he grabbed it and began to
fiddle with it. "I guess. You meant what you said back there?"

"About going to Albania? Of course I did. You can't go by yourself, Pads."

"I know." Sirius' hands dug into the Quaffle, as if he wanted to tear it apart. "I wouldn't have
actually gone alone, you know."

"Padfoot. You had one foot out the door already."

Sirius grinned ruefully. "I did, didn't I?"

Remus reached towards the floor near his own armchair, where a roll of parchment and ink
waited for him. "We've got a lot to do to prepare for Albania. It's too far to Apparate, so we'll
need to find a means of travel that doesn't alert the Order or the Death Eaters — I'm sure both
parties are keeping an eye on the area."
"Easy," said Sirius. "We take a Portkey. Or several."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "An illegal method of transportation, but that doesn't mean I'm
opposed. Do you know how to make a Portkey?"

"Nah. But James did it for my birthday last year, so how hard can it be?"

Remus tapped his quill to his mouth and examined the bookcases that lined the room. One
leather-bound spine in particular jumped out at him: A Beginner's Guide to Magical Travel,
by Ignatia Wildsmith.

Remus pointed his wand at the book, levitating it off the shelf and into Sirius' lap. "I'll
delegate the Portkey-making to you, then."

"How…?" Sirius glanced from the book to Remus, confused. "This just happened to be in
here?"

"This room is special," said Remus. "It tends to have exactly what I need. I usually come here
after a full moon, to catch up on schoolwork…"

"I always assumed you never fell behind because you're brilliant." Sirius shook his head.
"Turns out Hogwarts itself was helping you with your homework. That's cheating, don't you
think?"

"If the castle wants to help me, who am I to refuse?" Remus pulled a thick tome off a shelf
and began to leaf through it. This one was full of useful spells, with a particular focus on
concealment charms.

They lapsed into silence, each absorbed in their respective book. After a while, Sirius nudged
Remus' leg with his foot.

"Yes?" said Remus.

Sirius' expression was inscrutable. "Thank you."

"You can thank me by getting back to reading. I don't want to end up in the Ionian Sea by
accident."

"No, I mean…" Sirius faltered. He turned a page in his book; for a moment it seemed like he
really had resumed reading, but then he glanced back up. "I know that I can be a lot. Too
much, sometimes. Thank you for being there for me anyway."

Remus didn't know how to respond. He simply looked at Sirius: beautiful Sirius, with his
long black hair and his eyebrows knitted together above vulnerable grey eyes.

At last, Remus said, "I care for you very much."

"I…" Sirius cleared his throat. "I know. Thank you."

Remus returned to his book, though he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, which
made it quite difficult to read. He had the distinct impression that Sirius was still watching
him.

Padfoot, you beautiful, impossible boy, he thought.

At this rate, loving Sirius was going to kill him quicker than anything in Albania would.

James strolled down the path that led to Hogsmeade, his hands in the pockets of his coat.
Ahead of him, Sirius and Remus were having an intense, hushed conversation, presumably
about their upcoming trip to Albania.

"I don't like this," said Peter for the hundredth time.

"Relax, Pete," said James.

"The Jinx —"

"The Jinx isn't going to stop them," said James.

"Well, it should! There's vampires in Albania and — and Acromantulas…"

"There's Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest too, and we go there all the time."

"That's completely different —"

James stretched his arms above his head. "Like it or not, Moony and Sirius have made up
their minds. They know the dangers, and they're making plans in case things go wrong. We've
got to trust them."

Peter fell silent except for the crunching of his boots through the snow as he walked. When
they reached Hogsmeade's main street, he said, "I just wish they'd be a little more careful.
That's all."

"They are being careful —"

"But not enough!" cried Peter. "We know something terrible is going to happen. The Jinx
foretold it. It's only a matter of time, and they're not even trying to avoid bad luck."

James gave Peter a half-fond, half-exasperated look. "We can't live our whole lives in fear,
Pete."

Peter lowered his head and sighed. "I know. I just can't… I can't stop thinking about it. I
know I shouldn't," he added with a worried glance at James. "But I can't help it."
"That's alright." James slung an arm around Peter's shoulder. "We'll have a grand time in
Hogsmeade today — that'll get your mind off things. Where should we go first?"

"Zonko's?"

"Excellent choice," said James. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at Remus
and Sirius. "Oi, wankers! We're going to Zonko's. You coming?"

Sirius responded with a rude hand gesture. Remus turned around, looking apologetic. "We
need to go to Dervish and Banges first. Rumour has it they're keeping a pair of Gloves of
Spell Snaring behind the counter — will come in very useful if we run into any Death Eaters
in Albania…"

"Forget I asked." James waved them on. "Looks like it's just you and me, Pete!"

"Yeah." Peter looked glum.

By the time they left Zonko's, their pockets laden with Stink Pellets and Sugar Quills, Peter
had perked up a little. James had bought him a Bottomless Mug, which had gone a long way
towards improving Peter's mood, though he suspected Peter didn't realise that 'bottomless'
referred to the base of the mug, not the quantity of drink it could hold.

"Shall we go to the Three Broomsticks next?" asked Peter hopefully. "A Butterbeer would be
great in this cold, and I can try out my new mug…"

"Ah — I can't, sorry," said James, checking his watch. "I told Lily I'd meet her at Madam
Puddifoot's at half two."

Peter's smile wavered for a moment. "Oh — of course."

James suddenly felt very guilty. By keeping up appearances with Lily, and with Remus and
Sirius engrossed in their plans for Albania, they'd made Peter the odd man out. "It's the last
Hogsmeade weekend before the holidays," he said, as if that explained things.

"Yeah," said Peter. "I get it. I'll just — I'll catch up with Remus and Sirius. Hope they won't
be annoyed if I tag along… Sirius said he'll hex me if I bring up the Jinx again, ha-ha…"

Peter's self-deprecating laugh made James cringe. He forced out a sympathetic chuckle, then
parted ways with Peter, turning down the side street that led to Madam Puddifoot's. The
interior of the tea shop was an explosion of pinks and whites; everything was covered in lace,
and a bright pink, flower-shaped gramophone was playing a tinkling tune.

He spotted Lily at once: her dark red hair contrasted starkly against the floral, pastel
wallpaper. She looked arresting.

Arresting, and completely off-limits. He shook his head quickly, trying to clear his thoughts,
and joined her at the little white table. "Alright, Lily?"

"Mm-hm. How're you?"

"Brilliant." He pulled a bag of Zonko's products out of his pocket and set it on the table. "I
got you something."

She raised her pretty eyebrows. "Did you?"

James withdrew a small grey box from the bag and placed it in the palm of her hand. She
opened it and looked at him, confused.

"You got me… a ring?"

James realised it must seem like he was proposing to her. Boundaries! his brain screamed.
Don't overstep your boundaries!

"It's not — it isn't that kind of ring," he said hurriedly. "It's a Ring of Rejection." He nodded
to himself, satisfied. That ought to clear up any confusion.

Her face fell. "Oh." She looked down at the ring, which was made of glass and nestled snugly
in its velvet box. Her lips tightened.

James wasn't an expert in giving gifts to girls, but he had expected her to look significantly
happier than she currently did. There were tears in the corners of her eyes, which made him
panic so badly that his heart forgot to beat.

"Oh, no," he said. "Lily, don't cry, I — ah…" He ran a hand through his hair and looked
around desperately for something he could use as a handkerchief. "Here," he said, hastily
Transfiguring the entire Zonko's bag into a square of fabric. "Use this, it's alright. Don't cry,
Lily, please."

"S-sorry." She dabbed her eyes, but didn't look at him.

"Nothing to apologise for," said James, though he was utterly at a loss. "Did I do something
wrong?"

She shook her head. "No, you're perfectly within your rights to — to call things off. I
should've seen it coming, honestly."

"Call things off?"

She glanced at the ring. "Isn't that why…?"

James' heart skipped another beat; he massaged his chest, hoping he wouldn't collapse in the
middle of Madam Puddifoot's. Though if he did, he'd probably deserve it. "Merlin's pants, I'm
an arsehole."

"You're not," she said quickly. "It's alright, really —"

"You think I'm breaking up with you. Is that it?"

She bit her lip. "Technically, we're not actually dating, so it isn't truly a break-up. But — yes.
Aren't you?"
"Of course not!" James pulled out the ring; its glass band sparkled when it caught the light.
"A Ring of Rejection will protect you from arseholes like Snivellus. If someone distasteful
approaches you, just pull off the ring and snap it in half. An invisible wall will appear
between you and said arsehole, separating you physically and protecting you from all magic."
He held the ring up to the light, embarrassed. "I thought it would help if Snivellus ever makes
a pass at you and I'm not there."

Lily looked as though she didn't quite trust that he wasn't breaking up with her, but she had
stopped crying at least, which was a step in the right direction. She eyed the ring with
apprehension. "That's… very thoughtful, actually."

James didn't know what to do with this compliment. "It's stupid," he said automatically.

"No, it's not." She reached out a hand — her fingers were so slender — and James passed her
the ring, which she slid onto a finger. "Sev better watch out." She gave him a puffy-eyed,
mischievous grin, seeming much happier than she had been a moment earlier.

James couldn't make heads nor tails of this dizzying shift of emotions. The tea shop's frilly
decor suddenly seemed stifling, even claustrophobic. He stood abruptly and pulled her to her
feet. "Let's get out of here."

"Where are we going?" she asked, following him out the door.

"Er." He hadn't exactly gotten that far. "It's a surprise."

Behind him, her voice was bright. "Madam Puddifoot's not your style?"

"It isn't our style," he corrected.

"Do we have a style, now?"

"Of course we do," he said, improvising.

"Is that so?" She was practically skipping to keep up with him. He had no idea why she was
suddenly so happy. "In that case, I'm looking forward to learning what our style is."

Her enthusiasm faded somewhat when they stopped outside the rotting wooden fence that
encircled their destination. "The Shrieking Shack? Really?"

He grinned and held out a hand. "Do you trust me?"

She gave him a begrudging look. "Of course I do." The Ring of Rejection glinted on her
finger as she placed her hand in his — he turned on his heel —

She snatched her hand away as though he'd tried to burn her, and he nearly fell over.

"What's wrong?" he asked, steadying himself.

"You want to Side-Along me." She spoke as though there was something obviously wrong
with that idea, though he had no clue what that might be.
"Er, yeah. Is that alright?"

"I —" She couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm not allowed Apparate at all, per the terms of my trial.
Not even to Side-Along."

He felt like an idiot. "I forgot."

"That's alright," she said stiffly. Her cheeks were bright red, but not from the cold. Her
embarrassment made him feel embarrassed, and suddenly they weren't looking at each other.

"Change of plans, then," he said in what he hoped was an upbeat, encouraging tone. "How
good are you at breaking powerful protective enchantments?" When she blinked at this
apparent non sequitur, he added, "We can break into the Shack the old-fashioned way, but it
is warded beyond belief."

She looked at him quizzically. "Why would it be warded?"

"No idea," he said a little too quickly. "What do you say, then? Feeling up for a little curse-
breaking?"

Her blush faded as she smiled.

As it turned out, she was significantly better at counter-charms than he was. Fifteen minutes
later, they were in the dour sitting room of the Shrieking Shack. Lily's eyes wandered over
the shredded yellow wallpaper, the splintered remains of what might have once been a sofa,
and the piano in the corner, which was remarkably untouched.

"We are so out of bounds," she said.

"We're Head Boy and Girl," replied James. "Nothing is out of bounds for us."

She turned on her heel and waggled her eyebrows at him. "They say that malevolent spirits
live here. Doxies, at the very least — maybe a ghoul, even —"

"Scared, Evans?"

"Not in the slightest." She was already wandering into the next room. "I suppose you were
right, after all."

"Er, was I?"

"Yeah. Ghoul hunting sounds much more fun than spending the afternoon in Madam
Puddifoot's Tea Shop."

In the end, they didn't find any ghouls, but they did spend a perfectly ridiculous couple of
hours trying to scare each other silly, until they were both laughing so hard that they
struggled to catch their breath.

"We should head back," giggled Lily, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
"Head back? But we're just getting started — you haven't even begun to tackle the boggart in
the silverware drawer —"

"Making a couple of forks rattle hardly sounds like a boggart, James, you'll have to try harder
than that —"

"There's a real boggart in there," he insisted, but he could tell she was determined to leave, so
he returned to the sitting room and opened the trapdoor. "This tunnel leads back to
Hogwarts," he explained. "It comes out beneath the Whomping Willow."

"Really?" she said, surprised. "How odd. I knew there was a tunnel under the Willow, but I
never knew where it lead. I wonder why it comes out here…"

"I haven't the foggiest." James' voice cracked.

She gave him a keen look. "Right," she said after a moment. "Well. After you."

A companionable silence stretched between them as they plodded through the dark, musty
tunnel. Though Lily was close behind him, James could hardly hear her: the packed earth
swallowed the sound of her footsteps.

"Thank you," she said at last.

Thinking she was talking about the Ring of Rejection, James said, "You don't have to thank
me, it cost about five Sickles at Zonko's —"

"No, I mean — it's been ages since I've laughed so hard. This was a wonderful last date." She
sucked in a sharp breath, as if she'd said too much.

"Last date?" he asked.

She responded so quickly that her words ran together. "I meant it's our last date before the
winter holidays, of course. Not that it was a real date, anyway, since — oh, you know what
I'm trying to say. I just — I had fun. That's all."

Something was amiss, but there was no telling what. James decided then and there that he
would never understand how girls worked. Their minds whirred at the speed of light. His
brain, in comparison, was like a slowly-revolving asteroid. Just a stupid hunk of rock.

"It was a blast," he agreed. He nearly added, you're like a female Marauder, you're so much
fun to be around, but thought better of it. That particular compliment came dangerously close
to crossing a line, and he was determined to never do that again — especially considering
how much he'd harassed her in years one through five.

He'd done it for a laugh, at the time. Because he'd thought it was funny to make her angry.

Well, the joke was on him now. He wanted to curse his idiotic younger self; he'd burned all
his bridges with Lily before he'd ever even known her.
Chapter End Notes

Alternate ideas for this chapter title included "Mutual Pining Extravaganza" and "Idiots
in Love". Stay warm, friends!
 Dinner with the Dursleys
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

A winter storm blew in just before the end of term, blanketing Hogwarts in five feet of snow
and trapping the students inside the castle. Being stuck indoors was driving half the school
mad; Lily took more points in two days than she ever had before, as students took to hexing
one another out of sheer boredom.

She worried that whoever was Imperiusing people would strike again, driven as stir-crazy as
everybody else, but nothing came to pass. No student had been attacked since Halloween,
and it seemed the term would end without further violence. She expressed relief about this
during the last prefect meeting before the holidays; in response, James made an oblique
comment about the culprit being 'dealt with'.

He was obviously trying to spare her the details, which would have driven her mad, had
anyone else been doing it. With James, though, she found it endearing. Naturally, she was
dying to find out what he knew, but she figured she could pry it out of him, given enough
time. Maybe in January, when the matter wasn't so fresh.

Provided they were still on speaking terms, that is.

She hoped they would still be friends after she called off their fake-dating ruse, but it was
possible James would want nothing to do with her. After all, she'd no longer fit into his life.
She'd be neither his faux-girlfriend, nor one of his Marauders, nor a member of his Quidditch
team. They might end up cordial acquaintances who shared a dormitory, and nothing more.

By the last day of term, Hagrid had carved large paths in the snowdrifts surrounding the
castle, clearing the way for students to trek down to the Hogsmeade train platform. The
interior of the Hogwarts Express was warm and inviting, a welcome respite from the cold.
Lily sat in the prefect's compartment, which was otherwise empty; her breath fogged the
window as the train pulled away from the platform.

The journey to London was surprisingly lonely. The other Gryffindors had Apparated home
for the holidays, so Lily had nothing but her own anxious thoughts for company. She couldn't
keep herself from peering out the window at the snow-covered countryside every few
minutes, in case Lord Voldemort decided to make his attack on the Hogwarts Express a
yearly tradition. But the train arrived at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters without incident,
and she began to breathe normally again. Her mum picked her up at King's Cross, and they
talked the entire way home.

Two weeks later, Lily paced nervously around her bedroom, wearing the plaid, dark green
dress her mum had given her for Christmas. It was the evening of the dinner with Petunia and
Vernon, and James was supposed to pick her up five minutes ago, but he was apparently
running late.
Her pacing was making her freshly-styled hair lose its curls, so she forced herself to sit on the
edge of the bed and tap her heel instead. It was a bit ridiculous, really: she wasn't worried
about the dinner itself, but what would come after.

She rehearsed the speech she had prepared in her head. James. I think it's time we ended our
ruse.

She muttered the rest aloud, but her throat closed up halfway through, which had happened
every time she practised so far. When she finished, she was still moving her lips, but no
words came at all. She really hoped that wouldn't happen during the real thing.

Another five minutes had gone by. Vernon and Petunia had no doubt already arrived at the
little Italian restaurant the next town over, which was popular among Vernon's colleagues.

Five more minutes passed. She wished she had an owl; perhaps James had gotten lost. Or,
considering his inexperience with Muggle cars, he might have been in an accident and was
bleeding out on the road somewhere.

That's a bit far-fetched, she told herself. Besides, she would have heard sirens.

Something in the distance rumbled; it sounded like a plane taking off, though Cokeworth
didn't have an airport. Whatever it was, the noise was getting louder. The rumble grew until
her bedroom windows rattled, and the house shook like it had been hit by an earthquake.

Lily had a sneaking suspicion she knew who was behind such a racket. She threw on her coat
and a pair of black platform heels — the noise was so loud she couldn't even hear the tap of
her shoes against the linoleum — and stepped outside.

A large motorbike with blinding headlights touched down on the street with a final roar. Its
curly-haired rider waved enthusiastically at her, making her heart pound. She'd missed him.
Two weeks apart, and she'd missed him.

The motorbike trundled closer, and she stared at James. He was wearing proper Muggle
clothes: jeans and a black suede coat with a furry collar. And he looked good. Who knew his
shoulders were that broad beneath wizard robes? And his thighs — she didn't dare look at
them, not in those jeans. He was fit as hell.

"Alright, Lily?"

She sucked in her cheeks, determined not to let on how much she'd been ogling him. "Not
bad, yeah. Where's your helmet?"

"Sirius says helmets are for Muggles," explained James. "I borrowed the bike from him."

Lily wished she could argue the point, but there was a reason the standard Quidditch uniform
didn't include a helmet. It took more than a fall to kill a wizard, especially a young one.

"That explains some things, actually," she admitted. "I was wondering how you were going to
acquire a Muggle driving license on such short notice."
James extended a hand to her, helping her onto the back of the motorbike. "Out of curiosity,"
she said, trying to sound calm, "how high can this thing fly?"

"Sirius says he entered the lower stratosphere once," said James. "No worries, though — I
know you aren't fond of flying, so I thought we'd do things the old-fashioned way."

Lily couldn't tell if she was breathless from relief or from the fact that their legs were
touching, her thighs bracketing his. Those jeans fit sinfully well. "Does that mean we'll stay
on the ground?"

"For the most part. It's quicker if we hop over a few buildings. Is that alright?"

Ugh. "Just warn me beforehand so I can close my eyes."

"Will do," said James. The engine roared to life, though he hadn't touched any gears that she
could see. "Hold on tight, Evans!"

Gingerly, she put her hands on either side of his waist. She was afraid to get too close, lest
her touch give away her feelings for him.

Then the motorcycle jerked forward, and she flung her arms reflexively around his middle,
clinging on for dear life. The bike was fast — they'd peeled away from the street before she
could so much as blink. She squeezed her eyes shut against the cold wind that whipped at her
face, but that left her with nothing to focus on except for how tightly she was clutching
James' midsection. His stomach was firm beneath his suede coat, not soft the way hers was.
He felt like a boy.

She considered loosening her grip, but then James yelled something she didn't catch over the
wind, and the motorcycle bounced into the air. They leapfrogged over one house, then
another, and then several more, which made Lily very glad that she hadn't eaten yet. Ten
excruciating minutes later — made slightly more bearable by the feel of his torso — they
finally arrived, skidding to a halt outside the Italian restaurant.

James helped her off the bike, and she touched her hair; all her careful curls had fallen out
from the ride. He leaned the motorbike against the snow-covered kerb and offered her his
elbow. "Shall we?"

"Just a minute." She glanced around, making sure there were no Muggles about, and pulled
out her wand to fix her hair. God only knew what Petunia would say if she walked into the
restaurant with a rat's nest for a hairdo —

She glanced at James and froze, wand still in her hair. He was looking at her with such
tenderness that she suddenly felt very exposed.

"Yes?" she said, hastily finishing the Curling Charm.

"Nothing." He gave her an easy smile.

She must have imagined his expression a moment earlier. He hadn't looked at her like that,
and never would. The thought hurt worse than if he'd grabbed one of her curls and yanked.
"Let's go," she said brusquely, stowing her wand in her bag.

The interior of the restaurant looked as though it had been decorated by someone who had
read about Italy in a book but had never actually been. Clusters of purple grapes adorned the
wallpaper, and above the reception desk was a framed photo of Venice — a still, Muggle
photograph, the gondolas and canal water unmoving. Electric chandeliers hung from the
ceiling, looking hopelessly mundane compared to the floating candles that illuminated
Hogwarts.

Petunia and Vernon sat at a table in the corner, engrossed in conversation. Petunia was
speaking quickly, and Vernon was listening with rapt attention, as though he'd been
bewitched. If Lily hadn't been determined to dislike them until the end of time, she might
have found it cute.

"Hope we didn't keep you waiting," said Lily as she and James took their seats at the opposite
side of the table.

"Oh, er — not at all," said Vernon, just as Petunia said, rather snippily, "I was beginning to
think you'd gotten lost."

Lily was about to let out a sharp retort, but James spoke over her. "I don't believe we've met,"
he said, extending a hand. "I'm James Potter."

There was a long, awkward pause during which nobody moved. It became obvious that
Petunia was not going to shake his hand; she was staring disgustedly at it, as though touching
a wizard would cause her to contract some foul disease. Beside her, Vernon was trying
extremely hard, and without much success, to conceal his surprise that James Potter was
brown.

After a stretch of silence so long that it made Lily's teeth ache, Vernon reached over and
squeezed James' hand with rather more force than was needed. "Vernon Dursley. Pleasure." It
was clear from his tone that Vernon thought himself magnanimous for deigning to shake
James' hand.

If James noticed that Lily had invited him to have dinner with a pair of bigots, he didn't show
it. "The pleasure's all mine," he said, flashing them a smile.

"Your English is very good," said Vernon. Lily nearly jinxed him then and there.

"Er, thanks," said James, seeming a bit confused. "So's yours."

"Where are you from?" continued Vernon.

Lily flashed Petunia a look. Do something! she mouthed.

But Petunia gave her an irritated glance in return that said, it's just a question.

James didn't seem to have a problem with Vernon's inquiry. "I was born in Godric's Hollow,
in Somerset."
"No," said Vernon, "I mean your family, where are they from?"

"Er, the Potters have lived in Godric's Hollow for generations," said James. He seemed to
believe this was a normal topic of conversation for Muggles, because he said, "Where's your
family from?"

"Oh we're just — we're English," said Vernon. "But you — your family, you're…" He flapped
a hand at James, apparently incapable of vocalising further.

But James misunderstood the gesture, because he learned towards Lily and said in a low
voice, "Did your sister tell him? About us being, you know…?" He mouthed the word magic.

"Of course not!" hissed Lily. She turned to Vernon, clenching her fists beneath the table.
"James' family has been in England longer than yours has, I'd bet. Not that it matters in the
least."

Vernon's bushy eyebrows flew towards his hairline; he was clearly unused to Lily's temper
and unsure how to respond. After a moment, he settled for chuckling uncomfortably. "I was
only curious —"

"Yeah, and curiosity killed the cat," said Lily. "Next topic of conversation."

There was silence at the table until James, God bless him, spoke up. "So what do you do for a
living, Vernon?"

Vernon's chest swelled. "I sell drills. Grunnings, you know — they just opened a branch in
Surrey…"

"Drills, eh?" James leaned forward, seeming for all the world as though he were deeply
interested, though Lily was quite certain he was taking the mickey. He likely had no idea
what a drill even was. "And what do people do with these, er, drills?"

It turned out Vernon didn't actually know what clients did with the drills he sold. He'd gotten
out about five sentences of rambling garbage before Petunia spoke over him. "Lily, have you
thought about what you'll be doing after school?"

"I have," said Lily in a tone that made it clear that Petunia should already know her plans.
"I'm going to be a doctor, Tuney. Remember?"

Vernon let out an astonished laugh. "A doctor?"

"Is that funny?" said Lily.

"Not at all," said Vernon, though he struggled to keep himself from smirking. "Only — are
you certain you wouldn't rather be a nurse?"

Lily saw red. She put her hand on her wand, but before she could decide whether to turn
Vernon into a slug or a cockroach, James jumped in. "I'm going to be a magician," he said
proudly.
Petunia, who had been taking a sip of water, let out a petrified squeak. A bit of water dribbled
down her front.

"A magician?" repeated Vernon, amused.

"I'm a very talented magician," said James. "I know loads of tricks. Would you like to see
one?"

Vernon narrowed his small eyes. "Go on, then."

Petunia pushed her chair away from the table, clearly hoping to put some distance between
herself and the magic trick.

"You've got water on your blouse," said Lily savagely to her sister. "A little to the left — yes,
right there…"

"I'll need a hat for this one," James said to Vernon, eyeing the brown flat cap he was wearing.
"I don't suppose you'd mind…?"

"Not at all," said Vernon, and he handed James his cap.

"Excellent," said James. "For my first trick… I'm going to make a rabbit appear in this hat."
He showed Vernon and Petunia the flat cap from all angles, so they could verify that it was a
normal hat. Vernon scrutinised the cap, while Petunia frantically looked anywhere else; she
appeared to be hyperventilating.

James waved his fingers over the brim of the hat, then held it out to Vernon. "Put your hand
inside."

Vernon was obviously sceptical, but he obliged. He jumped a little. "I don't believe it!" he
said, peering into the cap. Nestled inside was a small white rabbit with a twitchy nose. "Look
at this, Petunia, he's really done it…"

Petunia refused to look. She rose from the table, muttering something about needing the
toilet, and scurried away.

"Impressive," said Vernon. "I suppose you must have hidden the rabbit somewhere on your
person, then placed it in my cap when I wasn't looking… Decent sleight of hand, I'll give you
that…"

He turned to see where Petunia had gone, and James quietly Vanished the rabbit. He glanced
at Lily and broke into a triumphant grin, as though he'd seen winning lotto numbers on her
face.

"What?" she asked.

"You're smiling," said James.

She realised she was. "You really must be a magician," she said, which made him laugh.
"Have you got any more tricks up your sleeve?"
"A few," said James with a wink. "But let's not push our luck too far, now…"

To Lily's surprise, the rest of the dinner wasn't horrible. There was a tense moment when
Vernon brought up a recent migrant workers' strike, but for the most part, James' magic trick
had broken the ice. By the time they finished eating, even Petunia was cracking a smile at
James' jokes, and Vernon gladly paid the bill.

All the same, Lily was relieved when the time came to say goodbye. Vernon shook James'
hand — respectfully, this time — and promised to send him an order form for a drill. Lily
exchanged an awkward 'see you later' with Petunia, then followed James down the street,
where the motorbike leaned against the kerb, a fresh dusting of snow on its seat.

"I'm so sorry about them," she said as soon as Petunia and Vernon were out of earshot.

"Sorry? What for?"

"Erm, in case you didn't notice, James, they're horrible people." She cringed remembering the
way Vernon had treated James at the start. "I'm sorry I asked you to come with me. I
shouldn't have. I should have gone by myself, it would have been better…"

He turned to face her square-on. "Lily. They were fine. A little socially awkward, maybe,
but…"

"Vernon was being an enormous arse about you being Indian!"

Something clicked in James' face. "Is that what the family comment was about? I was
wondering. But that's right — Muggles make a big deal about that sort of thing, don't they?"

"It's one of our favourite forms of discrimination," said Lily miserably, aware that she was
lumping herself in with Muggles but not entirely sure why. "We don't have blood status to
worry about, so we focus on class and skin colour instead."

"Interesting. I wonder what it says about human nature, that even non-magical people find
reasons to divide themselves."

He was so close. She could have reached out and grabbed the fluffy collar of his coat. "I'm
just sorry, alright? I wish they'd had the decency to apologise — they ought to be thanking
you, you're the only reason the night wasn't a huge disaster —"

He grinned so broadly she could see his molars. "Now you're flattering me."

"I mean it! You were brilliant back there. Unlike me — I wanted to hex Vernon so badly I
nearly broke the Statute of Secrecy."

"I thought he was a funny little man, honestly. Was he really that bad?"

"He was. Trust me."

James considered this. "Never thought I'd see the day a witch would feel compelled to defend
my honour. Normally it's the other way around, isn't it? The bloke usually does all the
defending."

Lily pretended to gag. "Where'd you get your outdated ideas? The seventeenth century?"

"Probably," said James. "My parents are about that old. I wasn't complaining, though."

"No?"

"Nah. Honestly, seeing you stick up for me like that — it was kind of hot."

Surely she'd hallucinated that last bit. There was no way he'd actually called her hot. Right?
But no — James was suddenly fidgeting with his hands as though acutely aware he'd said too
much.

She needed to end things. Now, before they got carried away with more banter. Before she
read too much into things he didn't mean.

"James," she began.

He must have known from her tone of voice what she was about to say. "I'm sorry," he said
abruptly. "I shouldn't have — that won't happen again."

No, it won't, she thought. They weren't going to be — whatever they were — anymore.

"James. I think it's time we ended our ruse." Though she'd rehearsed the words over and over,
they felt odd in her mouth, as though she were pronouncing a foreign phrase.

There was no mistaking the hurt that passed over his face. "Yeah?" He put both hands into his
hair and tugged. "I mean — yeah. Of course. I crossed a line. Of course you wouldn't want —
who would, after all, and after what I've put you through — zero tolerance, of course…"

He wasn't really making sense, so Lily continued with the speech she'd prepared. "It was a
great idea, and I really appreciate your help keeping Severus away from me. You were
fantastic."

She paused to see if he had anything to add, but his expression had shifted from anguished to
dull and resigned, as though he knew her script by heart but still needed to sit through this
last performance.

"I couldn't have done it without you," she said. "And there's nobody I'd rather have pretended
to date. But I think it's time we — we move on."

James nodded curtly and jammed his hands into his pockets. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

"I hope we can still be friends," she continued. "I've really enjoyed getting to know you better
this year." A little too much, in fact. "So nothing has to change between us. We just won't
need to pretend in front of other people anymore. Which will be nice, won't it?"

James seemed to realise that she expected him to say something. "Er, yeah. Nice."
Why was he acting like this? She'd thought he would be thrilled at being set free from her.
More time to spend with his Marauders, after all. And more time for his first love: Quidditch.

"Do you have any — any thoughts?" she asked.

"I…" James opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Makes sense. The Slytherins
have buggered off, so our job is done." He gave her an unconvincing grin. "Honestly, I'm
surprised you were able to put up with me for so long. That's a minor miracle in itself, isn't
it?"

At that moment, she knew there was no point in following her script any further. The lines
didn't fit. Maybe that was due to her delivery; he deserved better than the wooden speech
coming from her mouth. Maybe it was the stoic way he'd handled the conversation so far,
listening without protesting or trying to change her mind.

Or maybe it was because she knew him, knew him intimately, and she could tell that he
wasn't alright. And neither was she.

"It wasn't a miracle." Heat rose up her neck. "The reason I put up with you, I mean. It was
because — God, this is so embarrassing. I just — I fancy you, James! And I still can't figure
out how I ended up mad about you, of all people, when you've been the most obnoxious —
the most arrogant — the most infuriating person I've ever met! You disrupt class, you muss
your hair so it always looks like you just got off a broom, you're so brilliant you think
Hogwarts is boring — and I'm mad about you!"

She broke off, pink-cheeked and breathing hard.

James' hazel eyes were wide behind his glasses. He appeared to be in shock.

"It's rotten timing, I know, considering you moved on a long time ago," she said. "But I can't
keep pretending. I can't. Because it isn't pretend anymore, James. Not to me."

At last, he spoke. His voice was strangled. "You're — you're mad about me."

"Sorry it took me so long to figure it out," she said. "I should have ended things sooner, but
I've been in massive denial for, oh, about six months now." Trying to sound sensible, as if she
hadn't just vomited up her heart and deposited it in his hands, she added, "You see why
pretending to date isn't the best idea anymore."

"Yeah," he said, and his agreement tore her heart into a million little pieces. "Yeah, that
makes sense. No more pretending to date."

She waited for him to say more, but nothing came. "Right," she said. "Well, if we're both
agreed, then that's that. No need to take me home — I'll get a cab."

She'd gotten halfway down the street, stepping delicately in her heels so as not to slip on the
ice, when James called after her. He sounded as if he'd just worked out the answer to a very
complex maths problem. "Lily — wait."

She turned. "Yes?"

 He ran a hand through his hair. "Is there any reason why we can't, you know… date for real?"

Something sharp caught in the centre of her chest. It felt very much like hope. "You'd want
to?"

"Of course I'd want to. I've wanted to since we were eleven."

She took a step closer to him. One heel skidded on the ice, but she barely noticed. "I thought
you moved on."

"I didn't," said James. "I mean — Merlin's tits, Lily, have you ever actually seen yourself?"

He walked towards her, hands in his pockets, closing the distance between them until they
were inches apart. Lily lifted her chin, taking him in: the breadth of his chest, his tangled
black curls, his breath condensing in short, sharp puffs in the chill air.

"What you're saying," she said, "is that I'm extremely fit and you'd be honoured to be my
boyfriend for real. Is that right?"

His grin was wide and familiar. "Lily Evans, you are extremely fit. And I'd be honoured to be
your boyfriend for real."

"I was hoping for that," she whispered, and she put her hands on either side of his face and
pulled his mouth to hers.

It was nothing like the time she had kissed him during their Apparition exam. Back then, he'd
frozen in shock, and it had been like kissing a statue, cold and rough and still. This time, his
lips melded readily to hers — he was warm, so warm — and he placed a hand on the small of
her back, pulling her tightly to him. She kissed him like she'd never have another chance; he
kissed her like he didn't believe she was real. She wanted to stay in his embrace forever, her
hands exploring the messy curls she'd so longed to touch, her mouth against his.

When at last they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching. "So what
now?" he murmured.

"I think you have to take me home at some point. Unfortunately."

"Bugger that," he said. "Let's stay here a little longer."

So they did.

Chapter End Notes

We did it, fam! 300k words and they finally kissed!! Ahhh!!
 The Albanian Forest

On New Year's Eve, Remus was awoken well before sunrise by Sirius shaking his shoulder.

"What?" he said blearily.

"Today's the day, Moony! Operation: Albanian Nights is a go — we've got to get ready!"

"Five more minutes," he said, burying his face under his pillow. The full moon had been less
than a week ago, and he was still recovering from a nasty bout of anaemia, courtesy of the
wolf.

After a mere four minutes and forty seconds, Sirius flicked on the lights. "Up and at 'em,
Moony!"

Remus rolled over reluctantly. The boys' dormitory was empty except for the two of them;
Peter and James had gone home for the holidays. Remus had wanted to go home, too, but had
thought better of it when he realised it would be far simpler to vanish from Hogwarts for a
few days. His father would have wanted explanations about where he was going, which
meant Remus would have had to lie. And the only person in the world who could see through
his lies was Lyall Lupin.

"Did you manage to create a Portkey?" Remus asked as he staggered out of bed. The room
spun a little.

Sirius nodded at a tarnished silver spoon that sat on his bedside table. "It'll transport us at six
o'clock sharp this evening."

Remus nodded. Using an unauthorised Portkey was risky, as there was a chance that the
Ministry would detect them. Hopefully, their journey would go unnoticed amongst the
thousands of New Year's revellers who would also be travelling that evening.

Remus hoped that Sirius had done a decent job of enchanting the spoon. He really didn't want
to end up swimming in the middle of the English Channel. "How confident are you that it'll
actually work?"

"Moony. Has there ever been a spell I couldn't pull off?"

"Fair point," said Remus, pulling a set of robes over his head.

The morning passed in a blur of preparations. Somehow there was still packing to be done,
and Sirius ended up making not one but two emergency trips to Hogsmeade for supplies
they'd forgotten. In the early hours of the afternoon, they slipped under the Whomping
Willow and trekked to the Shrieking Shack. It was one of the few places near Hogwarts
where they could use a Portkey without being disintegrated by the protective enchantments
surrounding the castle.
After that, there was nothing more to be done except sit and wait. Sirius passed the time by
turning into Padfoot and taking a long, blissful nap on the Shack's sagging sofa.

Lucky bastard, thought Remus. He was too nervous to sleep, so he took to unpacking and re-
packing his magically-expanded trunk, just to give himself something to do.

At six o'clock sharp, he cleared his throat. Padfoot, who up to that point had appeared
soundly asleep, awoke at once and flung himself off the sofa, turning back into Sirius before
his feet could hit the floor.

"Ready?" said Remus.

Sirius grinned. "Last chance to back out. I won't blame you if you do."

"And leave you to get eaten by a Lethifold in Albania? Fat chance." Remus shrank his trunk
until it was the size of a matchbox and placed it into a pocket of his robes. He crouched next
to the rusted silver spoon that lay innocently on the splintered floor. "It's your Portkey; we
can go on your count."

With no hesitation at all, Sirius said, "Three. Two. One —"

They each touched a finger to the spoon's handle, and Remus felt something grab hold of his
navel and yank. The dilapidated walls of the Shrieking Shack vanished in a swirl of browns
and greys as they were pulled forward at a dizzying pace — Sirius kept bumping into Remus,
and each jostle made Remus' stomach lurch —

Remus' knees buckled as he slammed into a large pasture whose full extent was hidden by the
black, starless sky. His hands met dirt, and he immediately vomited into the tall grass.

"Alright!" came Sirius' voice in his ear. "We made it, it worked — oh, shit, sorry, Remus,
come here…"

Sirius' strong, slender hands caught Remus under his armpits and pulled him upright.

"M'alright," mumbled Remus. He reached into a pocket and unwrapped one of the little
yellow pills he'd procured from the apothecary in Hogsmeade for this very purpose. He
swallowed it, and the churning in his gut subsided marginally. "Where are we?"

"Lavender fields outside Saint-Paul-Trois-Châteaux," said Sirius. "I came here with my
family once. Quaint little village full of the snottiest pure-bloods France has ever produced
— my mum loves it here."

"Your mum is a hag," said Remus absently. He was concentrating on keeping his stomach
contents where they belonged.

"Strong condemnation from our Moony! International travel really must have done a number
on you. Want to take another lozenge before we continue?"

"Let's just go," said Remus, certain that no number of lozenges would be enough to quell his
stomach.
"Your wish, my command," said Sirius, and he hooked an arm around Remus' elbow. "Hold
on to your lunch — sorry, too soon? Next stop, Middle-of-Nowhere, Albania!"

Remus had to give Sirius credit — he was very, very good at Apparating. He'd hardly
registered that they'd left Saint-Paul-Trois-Châteaux before they appeared in a dense, dark
forest that must have been the Middle-of-Nowhere, Albania. Unfortunately, even Sirius'
Apparition skills weren't perfect: Remus' vestibular system arrived a few milliseconds later
than the rest of him, so the first thing he did was place a hand against a massive tree trunk
and vomit onto its roots.

"Fuck," said Sirius. "Sorry. I tried to make it a smooth transition —"

"It was smooth," said Remus, wiping his mouth. "Nearly seamless, actually. I don't know
how you do it — you've never been here before, so you must have been working off a
photograph. Yet I barely felt us move. That's insanely advanced Apparition, you must have
practised…"

Sirius gave a shrug that might have looked modest, had he remembered to wipe the
accompanying smirk from his face. "Call it part of my preparations. There's no telling what
we might run into here, and being able to change position in an instant gives me a huge
advantage against — well, against everything."

"Apparition as battlefield magic." Remus couldn't help but admire the brilliance of it.

"Yes, but with any luck I won't need to use it," said Sirius, scanning their surroundings.
"Shall we look for somewhere to set up the trunk?"

This was easier said than done. Remus had thought their escapades in the Forbidden Forest
would have prepared them well for exploring the Albanian forest, but he quickly realised this
wasn't the case. Even in the deepest parts of the Forbidden Forest, he'd always been able to
pick out constellations shining high above the canopy; the trees in the Albanian forest, in
contrast, were so large and so ancient that their branches choked out any starlight before it
could reach the forest floor. The resultant darkness was so thick that it seemed almost
tangible, as if they were surrounded by heavy black curtains.

They didn't dare use magic to light their way, for fear of attracting any of the numerous
malevolent creatures that were rumoured to live in the forest. After twenty minutes of
stumbling about in the pitch black, they found a hollowed-out space beneath a large, gnarled
root that was as good a place as any to make camp for the night.

Remus nestled his trunk in the damp, rotting leaves, then pulled out a ring with two keys on
it. One was made of brass and looked well-worn — it unlocked the normal part of his trunk,
the part that stored things — while the other was shiny with a long handle. He inserted the
long-handled key into the lock on his trunk, then lifted the lid: the trunk's bottom had
vanished, replaced by a large, gaping hole that descended some twenty feet into the earth.

A wooden ladder leaned against one side of the hole, leading to the space below. Remus
climbed carefully down, praying his lingering anaemia wouldn't choose this moment to make
him dizzy. When he reached the bottom without issue, he stopped to admire the space. He'd
spent the last month fiddling with the Undetectable Extension Charm on his trunk and had
managed to create a passable replica of Uncle Alphard's apartment, right down to the London
skyline twinkling through the windows.

He craned his neck upwards, peering at the top of the hole he'd just climbed through, but it
was like staring into a black hole; he couldn't see a thing. Sirius was likely obscuring their
footprints and camouflaging the trunk with dirt and leaves — by hand, instead of with his
wand, so as not to attract the attention of the magical beings that lurked in the forest.

Remus busied himself with making tea and sandwiches while he waited for Sirius to finish.
At last, a pair of boots thumped down the rungs of the ladder.

"All finished." Sirius pointed his wand at the open lid of the trunk, which swung shut with a
satisfying thud. "Wish we could at least set a Homonculous charm, though… makes me
nervous to think that a band of Erklings could stumble upon us and we'd be none the wiser."

"It isn't worth the risk," said Remus, passing Sirius a stack of ham sandwiches. "Besides, if
something — or someone — finds our trunk, they'd need the special key to find us here. Even
Alohomora will only show them the other part of the trunk, the one with our supplies."

"Imagine, a group of Erklings with access to highly volatile potions," said Sirius. "That's a
comforting thought."

"We could still take them."

Sirius considered this. "You're right," he said, and he bit into a sandwich. "This place just
gives me the creeps. It's so… quiet. And dark."

Remus knew what he meant. The Forbidden Forest had always felt dangerous but
manageable. This place, on the other hand… it was malevolent. He couldn't explain how he
knew this — a gut feeling, perhaps. But he was certain that this forest would do its best to
ensure that they didn't leave alive.

"Maybe it'll be better in the daytime," he said, trying to sound optimistic. Optimism had
never been Remus' strong suit, however, so he didn't blame Sirius for giving him an
exasperated look.

"Why would it be better in the daytime?"

"Well, the darkness can be scary." Remus was aware that this was a stupid thing to say, but it
was late, and his brain was not at its fullest capacity after the one-two punch of Portkeys and
Apparition.

"I'm not scared of the dark," said Sirius. "I'm not a child. And even if I was, well. You know
what sort of house I grew up in."

"You've been preparing for this your whole life," agreed Remus, and he risked a bite of ham
sandwich. Thankfully, it slid down his oesophagus and didn't try to come back up, which was
a small victory.
"I think the trees here want to eat us," said Sirius suddenly.

Remus blinked. "You think so, too? I thought I was just being paranoid."

"Yeah. The sooner we get out of here the better, Moony. Hopefully the diadem is dangling off
a tree branch in plain sight, or something."

"Maybe one of the Erklings is wearing it," said Remus, which made Sirius snort. "I maintain
that the forest will be less creepy in the daytime. You'll see."

Unfortunately, when they climbed out of the trunk the following morning, the forest was as
sinister as it had been the night before. A dense fog enshrouded the woods, obscuring all but
a few feet ahead of them. Remus could just make out the occasional oversized tree trunk
looming in the haze, as wide around as a dozen Whomping Willows and ten times as high.
And just as out for blood as the Willow is, too, he thought with a shudder.

"At least there's a bit of light," he said aloud. He was enjoying his new role as the optimistic
one of the pair.

"Fat lot of good that does in this fog," said Sirius. He shrunk the trunk until it could fit in his
pocket, then flung the Invisibility Cloak, which he had borrowed from James, around them.
"D'you sense anything, Moony?"

This was the tricky bit. Magic always left traces; Remus and Sirius were counting on these
traces to lead them to the diadem. But the diadem wasn't the only magical thing in the forest,
not by a long shot. And Remus really didn't want to stumble upon the coven of vampires that
had bitten Professor Prewett.

He closed his eyes and tried to sense the forest around them, searching for the familiar pull of
magic. After a minute, he had to admit defeat. All he could focus on were Sirius' slow, even
breaths in his ear.

"Bollocks," said Remus, opening his eyes.

"What? You didn't sense anything?"

"Turns out it isn't as easy as Sight Beyond Seeing makes it seem," said Remus, referencing
one of the many books they had read on the topic.

"Let me try." Sirius shut his eyes and grew unusually still.

Remus waited.

"Fucking shit," said Sirius at last. "We should've brought Peter along — he's always been
good at Divs. Bet he'd be able to feel the diadem's location."
"Good thing we've got a backup plan," said Remus. "Just need to find a body of water."

Sirius swallowed hard. "There ought to be a river east of where we are now," he admitted
after a moment. "At least according to the atlas I stole from the library. It was published in
the eighteenth century, though, mind you… might not be any rivers left at all," he added
hopefully.

After a half-hour's walk, the low, burbling pitch of running water reached Remus' ears.
"We're close," he said, and they picked up the pace. When they reached the bank of the river,
Sirius cleared his throat.

"Yes?" said Remus.

"You don't have to do this."

"Locating the diadem will be worth the risk, don't you think?"

Sirius gave him a keen look. "Are you talking about the risk that something will discover us,
or the risk to your life?"

"Don't be melodramatic," said Remus. "The spell won't take my life."

"You're certain, are you?"

"Yes," said Remus, though he wasn't. He'd stumbled upon this particular incantation scrawled
in the margins of one of the evilest books the Restricted Section had to offer. It was proper
Dark magic, the kind that got one expelled from Hogwarts. The kind the Order would never
have thought to use.

"I don't like the thought of you doing it," said Sirius. "If you let me —"

"Out of the question, Padfoot. My blood will be less out-of-place than yours here."

Before Sirius could stop him, Remus ducked out from under the Invisibility Cloak and knelt
at the edge of the river. Mist rose from the surface of the water, swirling around him, and he
wondered if the river was somehow the source of all the fog. Then, before he could lose his
nerve, he pulled out his wand and ran the tip across his palm.

"Diffindo," he whispered. His hand split as though he'd just slashed it with a knife; viscous
blood oozed from the wound.

In a low voice, he began to recite the incantation he'd found in the Restricted Section. He
placed his bleeding hand into the river, still muttering all the while, and the chill water
numbed the pain somewhat. A cloud of red bloomed from his hand, swirling towards the
surface. The blood left an oily, scarlet sheen atop the water. Here and there, darker blots of
crimson congealed on the river's surface, mingling with the pinkish water until the gradients
of red formed —

"A map." Sirius crouched beside Remus, the Invisibility Cloak draped over his arm. "This'll
show us the most magically active parts of the forest, won't it?"
Remus, who was focused on maintaining consciousness, merely grunted.

Sirius' eyes swept over the crimson patterns in the water. "This line here represents the river, I
suppose," he said, pointing to a channel of clear water that cut through the red. "We're at the
south-east end of the river, which puts us… yes, we'd be this dark spot. It's darker because
we're more magical."

Remus clung to every word Sirius said to distract himself from his throbbing hand; he lost
more blood with every heartbeat. Beside him, Sirius pulled out a quill and parchment and
began to sketch what he saw on the surface of the river.

Unwittingly, Remus swayed. He would have tumbled face-first into the water had Sirius not
caught him.

"Almost done," said Sirius soothingly, and to Remus' great disappointment, his hands let go
of Remus' shoulders in favour of returning to the sketch. "You're doing great, Moony — just
hang on a little longer."

Remus gritted his teeth. It was difficult to think about anything but the searing pain in his
hand. Just a little longer, he repeated to himself.

The edges of his vision went grey, but before he could lose sight entirely, Sirius wrenched his
arm from the river. "Finished," he said briskly. He flung the Invisibility Cloak around them
both, still holding Remus' arm by the wrist.

Before Remus realised what was happening, Sirius got out a thick, brown salve and smeared
it across Remus' palm. There was a hissing sound as the paste touched the gash in Remus'
hand, like water thrown atop a fire, and green smoke began to billow from the wound. The
pain lessened to a dull throb, and Remus relaxed gratefully against Sirius' side.

"I'm sorry, Moony," said Sirius while wrapping Remus' hand in a strip of cloth. "I'd heal you,
but —"

"No," said Remus. "No more magic. Too dangerous."

Sirius looked pained. "Exactly. You'll have to heal the normal way for now." He shook his
head, regretful. "It should have been me."

"No."

"It should have been! Don't think I haven't noticed that you've barely recovered from your
last transformation. And now you've lost more blood. I'm surprised you're still standing,
honestly. I should have been the one to —"

"Sirius — no." The words were thick on Remus' tongue. "If you had — and the vampires had
caught the scent of human blood —"

Sirius' face fell. "I know. I just hate that it had to be you."
"I don't. And I don't regret casting the spell. Werewolf blood won't… won't raise nearly as
much suspicion as yours would have." Remus had to pause for breath between every few
sentences. "Besides. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to get in a few
scrapes, if that's what you really want."

Sirius' eyes were as grey as the fog that surrounded them. "I hope so. I owe you one, Moony."

"You don't owe me anything. We're in this together — it all evens out."

Sirius looked like he wanted to say more, but he must have sensed that Remus wouldn't
budge. "Alright. Want to have a look at the map that you nearly bled to death to create?"

Remus nodded, and Sirius unfolded the scrap of parchment he'd drawn on. "This is us," he
said, pointing at a blot of ink near the centre. "Here's the river. There are three other
significant sources of magic in this part of the forest. Two are here"— he pointed at two ink
stains, quite close together, north of their location— "and the third one is further south."

"The diadem will be one of the two northern sources of magic," said Remus. "The vampire
coven will be the other. I'm not sure what lies south of us, but best we leave it alone."

"How do you know the diadem and the vampires will be near each other?"

"Just a hunch," said Remus evasively. He still hadn't told Sirius about Professor Prewett
being a member of the Order, much less a vampire, and now certainly wasn't the time for
such revelations. "How far is it to the diadem, do you think?"

"At least a day's walk," said Sirius. "Closer to a day and a half, given your condition."

"I'm fi —"

"You need to rest. If you keep going like this, you'll keel over in front of the vampires and
they'll eat me. And then where would we be?"

"The vampires wouldn't eat you. You're too bony." Remus forced himself to begin walking.
"With any luck we won't run into them, anyway."

They managed to walk for three more hours — albeit with frequent breaks — before Remus
had to admit defeat. "I'm sorry," he said as he stopped for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Can we just take — five minutes…"

They were still beneath the Cloak, so when Sirius turned towards him, his nose nearly
brushed Remus'. He cupped Remus' face in his long-fingered hands. "Don't apologise,
Moony. Let's stop here for the day — we've travelled far enough."

"I can keep going." Remus resisted the urge to press his cheek into Sirius' hand. "I just need a
break…"

"We're stopping," said Sirius, and he withdrew the miniaturised trunk from his pocket. "I'll
set this up. Why don't you have a rest?"
Remus slumped obediently against a nearby tree; its rough bark caught the Invisibility Cloak
as he slid to the ground. He closed his eyes for a moment.

The next thing he knew, he was being lifted off the ground. Sirius carried him in his arms like
he was a child, then set him down gently in front of the trunk.

"My legs work, you know," said Remus. "At least for the moment."

"Shame," said Sirius. "I was going to carry you down the ladder like one of those Muggle
firemen."

"I'm heavier than you are. You'd drop me." Remus hastened down the ladder in case Sirius
took his words as a challenge.

"I'll cook," said Sirius once they were both in the little flat inside the trunk. "You can lie
down on the sofa. I'll bring you dinner once I'm done."

Remus did not want to lie on the sofa, nor did he trust Sirius' culinary skills. "I can —"

"For God's sake, Moony, you really don't know how to let other people take care of you, do
you?"

"Yes, I do. Once a month I've got no choice. But right now, there's no need —"

Sirius stopped throwing open the cupboard doors long enough to wheel towards Remus.
"And what if I want to?"

Remus blinked. Slowly, he said, "Why would you want to take care of me?"

"Because I —" Sirius broke off, looking frustrated. "You know what? Never mind. You
already know why, and I don't feel like spelling it out for you. Again."

If Remus hadn't been so exhausted, he would have argued back. Whatever feelings Sirius
thought he had were misguided. The truth was that taking care of a werewolf wasn't sweet or
romantic: it was constant, daily work. It was the dull, endless task of managing aches and
pains so he could have a semblance of a normal life. Sirius couldn't handle that kind of
tedium. He would grow bored, and then he'd move on, and Remus would have lost the most
important person in his life.

Better not to burst Sirius' bubble with the reality of his situation. "Alright," said Remus, and
as a peace offering, he lay on the sofa like Sirius had suggested. "I'm going to take a nap.
Wake me up when dinner's ready, will you?"

But when Sirius shook his shoulder a half-hour later, Remus was sleeping too deeply to fully
wake. After several attempts, Sirius muttered something that sounded to Remus' sluggish ears
like, "See, Moony. Was that really so difficult?"

And then Sirius was carrying him again. When Remus next opened his eyes, he had been
neatly tucked into bed, and there was a large black dog snoring beside him.
"Good boy," whispered Remus, and he curled an arm around the slumbering dog.

The next day, Remus felt marginally better; he was well enough, at least, to keep pace with
Sirius as they continued their trek through the dark, miserable forest. Had he been at
Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey would have made him stay an additional few nights in the
hospital wing. In Albania, he had no such luxury. Only three days remained before they
needed to return to Hogwarts — they couldn't afford to rest.

It was early afternoon when Sirius stopped so abruptly that Remus stepped out from under
the Invisibility Cloak before he realised that Sirius was no longer at his side.

"What's wrong?" he asked, hastening to rejoin Sirius under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Don't you smell that?" The corners of Sirius' thin lips turned down in disgust.

Remus had been thinking about a particularly engaging Transfiguration manual he was
reading. Not wanting to let on that he hadn't been paying attention to their surroundings, he
mimicked Sirius' expression and said, "Eurgh. What do you think that might be?"

"Smells like something's rotting," said Sirius, drawing his wand. "Let's be careful going
forward."

As they walked, the putrid smell grew so strong that Remus wondered how he'd ever missed
it. He pulled the collar of his coat over his nose, trying to quell the bile that rose in his throat.

"There," said Sirius, and he dropped into a crouch, wand at the ready.

Remus followed suit, staring at the carcass that lay before them. It was larger than either of
them, with a grey hide and thick bones that had been picked nearly clean. It seemed to have
rather more limbs than most mammals —

Realisation dawned on Remus, and he looked away in horror. "A centaur," he managed in a
strangled voice.

Sirius let out a low whistle. "Makes me glad we've got the Invisibility Cloak. I'd rather not
cross paths with a creature that hunts centaurs like prey."

"How far away are we from those other sources of magic?"

Sirius pulled out the map he'd drawn. "Within a mile, I'd guess. The two we're after are close
together."

Remus was starting to get a bad feeling. The further into the forest they travelled, the quieter
the woods around them became. And he didn't think vampires were capable of mauling a
centaur so brutally. Suppose they were mistaken about the diadem's location — or about what
guarded it?

Before he could voice his misgivings, Sirius stood up and started to move, forcing Remus to
follow. They gave the corpse of the centaur a wide berth as they picked through the silent
underbrush.

Ten minutes later, a long, low rumble reached Remus' ears. "Wait," he whispered.

"Huh? What?"

"There's a… a noise." Remus concentrated. "It sounds a bit like a train."

Sirius frowned. "I don't hear anything."

"It's — no, Sirius, wait —"

Sirius took a step forward into the clearing ahead of them. Almost immediately, he froze, his
shoulders tensing. Then he inched backwards and nearly collided with Remus.

"Padfoot," hissed Remus, "what —"

The rumbling stopped.

As Sirius turned to face him, Remus got a glimpse of what awaited them in the clearing and
forgot how to breathe.

A massive, dark green dragon lay curled in the middle of the clearing. Even lying down, the
wicked spines on its back were level with the upper branches of trees. Two huge, straight
horns protruded from its forehead, each one longer than Remus was tall.

A Romanian Longhorn, thought Remus. It looked just like the pictures in his father's
bestiaries.

The dragon's piercing yellow eyes were trained directly on them.

"Out of curiosity," muttered Sirius, as though they weren't staring death in the face, "can
dragons see through Invisibility —"

The Longhorn roared, and Remus dove instinctively to the side. Sirius was out from under
the Invisibility Cloak before Remus could stop him, running towards the dragon instead of
away from it, flinging himself forward —

The shaggy black dog's paws hit the muddy ground as it beelined towards the Longhorn,
narrowly avoiding the dragon's snapping jaws —

"Padfoot!" Remus fumbled for his wand, all thoughts of avoiding detection forgotten. The
way the Longhorn had roared, the entire forest now knew their location, anyway.
He sent a Conjunctivitis Curse towards the Longhorn's eyes, then swore as the spell glanced
off its scaly brow. If he'd known they'd be facing a dragon, he would have brought a Muggle
grenade, not a bloody wand, which was about as effective as a stick —

The Longhorn swept its massive tail towards the dog. Desperately, Remus shouted,
"Wingardium Leviosa!" and the tail lifted just enough for Padfoot to duck under it and nip at
the dragon's back leg. The Longhorn let out an angry bellow, and orange flames began to
crackle at the back of its throat.

Remus flung himself to the ground, preparing to be burnt to a crisp, but the jet of flame
passed some thirty feet to his right. As he lifted his head, he realised that the Longhorn
couldn't see him under the Invisibility Cloak, though it could perhaps still smell and hear
him.

Padfoot was still worrying the Longhorn's scaly heels like an old bone; the dragon lumbered
to its feet and spun around, searching for the source of the annoyance. While it was
distracted, Remus edged closer. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He had no idea how they
were going to escape unscathed —

The Longhorn brought down a huge, clawed foot, and this time Padfoot couldn't dart out of
the way. The dog yelped as the claw tore into its haunches, and it was all Remus could do not
to shout —

Padfoot struggled to stand, whimpering. The Longhorn raised its claws again, readying a
final blow. Remus searched desperately for a distraction, anything —

The solution came to him as the Longhorn's curved talons flashed through the air. "Leave
him!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the dragon's heart. "Sirius is mine! EXPECTO
PATRONUM!"

An enormous silver creature burst from Remus' wand and barrelled into the Longhorn's chest.
The dragon toppled over, writhing, claws raking at the silver beast whose jaws were clamped
around its neck —

In for a Sickle, in for a Galleon, thought Remus, and as he jogged forward, he pointed his
wand at his palm, Transfiguring it. Fur sprouted from the back of his hand, and his fingernails
lengthened and curved, turning into thick, foot-long claws. He reached the spot where
Padfoot lay and tossed the Invisibility Cloak over the dog.

"Hide," he commanded. Then he turned to the Longhorn, which was still wrestling with his
Patronus. Incredibly, the silver creature appeared to have actually wounded the dragon;
several dark green scales littered the ground, and there was a gash in the Longhorn's chest,
just above its heart.

Before he could lose his nerve, Remus rushed forward, ducking beneath the Longhorn's
thrashing tail and manoeuvring between its legs. The Patronus reared onto its hind legs and
bit the dragon on the snout, heedless of the flames that scorched its ethereal body —
Remus grasped the Longhorn's scaly underside and hauled himself upwards, towards the gash
on its chest, praying that the Patronus would continue to distract it. Just as he reached the
wound above the Longhorn's heart, the dragon swayed violently, and Remus clung to its
scales, his feet kicking uselessly in the air.

After a dizzying moment, the Longhorn's movement slowed. Remus raised his Transfigured,
clawed hand and plunged it into the bleeding wound.

The Longhorn screeched in pain. Remus continued to dig, widening the gash, ripping into the
dragon until he caught a glimpse of —

There. Nestled inside the Longhorn's chest was a massive, pulsating red organ — the dragon's
heart.

The Longhorn roared again, rattling Remus' bones. He had just enough presence of mind to
cast a Shield Charm as an inferno erupted around him. But his Shield Charm was no match
for the torrent of fire — flames seared Remus' face, licking at his cheeks, burning him —

He plunged his wand into the Longhorn's heart, yelling with all his might.

"Reducto!"

The world around him exploded. Remus' wand was ripped from his fingertips as he flew
through the air — the skin on his cheeks blistered — he tensed, prepared to meet his end —

An enormous, silver-furred creature caught him midair. He and his Patronus tumbled to the
ground, hitting the hard-packed earth not far from the Longhorn's smoking corpse.

Remus remained in a heap, not daring to move. He braced himself for excruciating pain —
surely this was the end, surely he'd broken all his bones — but surprisingly, none came. His
forehead and cheeks smarted from burns, but that was all. His Patronus had cushioned the
fall; the creature he so feared had been his protector.

Enough, he thought. It was time to make peace with his Patronus. Slowly, with more
trepidation than he'd shown even when faced with a dragon, he sat up to face the silvery
beast.

"You —" he began, then stopped. The ethereal creature in front of him was not the wolf he
had feared. Its fur was too long, its muzzle too broad. In fact, it looked an awful lot like —

Padfoot tackled him just as the Patronus vanished into silver smoke. Remus curled his fingers
into the dog's matted black locks and buried his face in its side.

"Thank Merlin. Oh, thank Merlin. Are you alright?"

Beneath his hands, he felt the dog's form shift until it was Sirius he was holding so tightly,
Sirius who clung to him like they'd been separated for a hundred years.

"'M alright," said Sirius into his neck. "My leg — God, it hurts."
"I can heal it —"

"Not yet," said Sirius. "There's something you need to see first."

With a great effort, Remus forced himself to pull back. "What is it?"

"While you were fighting the dragon, I…" Sirius swallowed. "I think I found where the
diadem's hidden."

Remus followed Sirius as he limped towards the centre of the clearing, past the slain
Longhorn. The Invisibility Cloak was in a crumpled heap nearby, and Remus scooped it up as
they passed.

"Fuck," said Sirius as his injured leg twisted beneath him. "This hurts like hell."

Before Remus could offer to heal him for a second time, Sirius transformed into Padfoot. He
wagged his tail, then trotted ahead, clearly finding the pain more tolerable as a dog.

As they rounded the dragon's corpse, Remus spotted what it had been guarding. "Bullshit," he
said. "I don't believe it."

Padfoot let out an affirmative bark.

In front of them stood a gnarled old apple tree. Shrivelled black fruit hung from its bare
branches, and there was a hollow about the size of a Quaffle in the middle of its trunk.

"Helena Ravenclaw hid the diadem in a tree?" said Remus. "I thought she was supposed to be
smart."

Padfoot seemed to agree with Remus' assessment, because he lifted his leg at the base of the
tree. Remus approached cautiously, in case another dragon was lying in wait, but no magical
creatures burst from the edges of the forest; they seemed to be truly alone.

"I don't understand," he said, running his hands around the hollow. "Did she put the dragon
here, too? Seems like the diadem would be pretty easy to find, in that case. So why did the
Order spend so long searching for it?"

He trailed off, tracing the bark with a finger. Though he was fairly certain that the tree wasn't
magical, he still wasn't stupid enough to stick his hand inside the hole in the trunk.

One more spell won't hurt, he decided, and he drew his wand. "Accio Diadem!"

Nothing happened.

Two more spells, he thought. "Specialis Revelio."

The shrivelled fruit hanging from the wizened branches didn't so much as quiver. The tree
was just a tree, with no enchantments or defensive hexes to protect it.

Remus frowned. "Odd. You'd think there'd at least be traces… wouldn't Helena have wanted
to ensure that the diadem couldn't be found?"

He dared to place his hand inside the hollow, and his fingers met the cool, damp muck of
rotting wood. Beside him, Padfoot whined.

"I know," said Remus. "It isn't here. Either we're looking in the wrong place, or…"

"Or someone else got there first," said a smoothly accented voice that most certainly did not
belong to Sirius.

Remus' legs nearly gave out from under him. Slowly, he turned around.

Dozens of humanoid figures emerged from between the trees, all wearing hooded black
robes. One was taller than the rest, and this figure stepped in front of the others. As it drew
closer, Remus could see a bloodless face beneath the black hood: translucent skin stretched
over pointed cheekbones, and merciless red eyes gleamed from sunken sockets. It was like
staring at a cadaver — though this cadaver was intelligent and extremely dangerous.

Padfoot growled.

"Call off your dog, or I shall kill it," said the figure in the same silky voice.

Remus glanced at Padfoot, whose dark fur was bristling from root to tip. "Down, boy," he
said in what he hoped was a firm, convincing tone.

Padfoot let out a low whine, but he sat.

"Much better," said the figure. "Now tell me, werewolf. What are you doing in the Dark
Lord's forest?"

Remus knew at once that they were caught. More than two dozen hooded figures surrounded
them, and though none carried wands, each was more dangerous than the dragon they had
faced. This was the vampire coven that had murdered Alphard Black — and had done even
worse to Professor Prewett.

Fleeing wasn't an option, so Remus decided to stick to what he was good at: lying.

"I heard that the Dark Lord has been looking for something in these woods," he said evenly.
"I hope to be the one to deliver it to him."

Before the words had even left Remus' mouth, he knew that the leader of the vampires
believed him. Of course he did: Remus was a Dark creature. What reason would he have to
lie?

"Ambitious, for a werewolf pup," said the vampire. "You look like you're barely of age."
"It's my only option," said Remus. "You know that my kind struggle to live among wizards.
My chances of earning a fair wage are slim. I was hoping to win the Dark Lord's favour and
be accepted among his ranks."

"You're too late, I'm afraid," said the vampire. He was close enough now that Remus could
see the bloodless cracks in his white lips. Those red irises were fixed on Remus' face, which
was almost a relief; he didn't want this creature to examine Padfoot too closely.

"So who found the diadem?" asked Remus conversationally, though he still held his wand in
his hand. "Not one of Dumbledore's, I hope."

"Of course not," hissed the vampire. "We took care of any that came too near."

Beside Remus, Padfoot bared his teeth.

Act like a dog, Remus pleaded silently. Don't reveal yourself. Please. He, Remus, had nothing
worse than death to fear from these creatures. Sirius, on the other hand, could still be bitten.

"Interesting familiar," commented the vampire. His scarlet eyes flicked to Remus' wand.
"You've integrated into wizardkind, then?"

There was no missing the scorn in the vampire's voice at the suggestion that Remus willingly
lived among humans. "You and I both know that there is no such thing as being fully
integrated," said Remus, which seemed to satisfy the creature. "Incidentally, what's your
name?"

"I am Sanguini," said the vampire. "And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"Remus Lupin. So the Death Eaters were the ones who found the diadem, in the end?"

"Not found, no," said Sanguini. "They were given it."

"By you and your coven?"

Sanguini nodded. "The last of Dumbledore's men came uncomfortably close to discovering
this place. The Dark Lord learned of this and reached out to us — we who have protected this
forest for centuries and have guarded its secrets jealously. Until that point, we had not even
allowed the Dark Lord's followers to wander near this clearing."

"So what changed?" asked Remus. "If you preferred that the diadem stay here, surely you
could have managed it."

Sanguini's eyes glinted. "The Dark Lord offered us a fair exchange."

There was no need for him to elaborate. "Power," said Remus, injecting a bit of yearning into
his own voice. "A more comfortable life. And a steady supply of human blood."

"Indeed," said Sanguini. There was a hunger to his voice. "When the Dark Lord rules, we will
have no need to hide. The humans shall cower before us as they ought, and we will make
them afraid."
"Good," said Remus savagely. "They deserve it." He turned to the withered apple tree and
pretended to examine it. "The Death Eaters brought the diadem back to England, did they?"

"Yes. I was told the Dark Lord preferred it… closer to home, if you will."

"Makes sense," said Remus. "The Romanian Longhorn must have been placed as a watch by
the Death Eaters, too. To alert your coven if anyone else came looking for the diadem."

"Intelligent, for a pup," said Sanguini.

"Perhaps. Though my brains aren't of much use, considering I've arrived too late to deliver
the diadem to the Dark Lord."

"There may yet be a bright side," said Sanguini. "For your travels have brought you to me,
and the Dark Lord is generous with those who wish to serve him."

"What should I do next?" Remus turned eagerly back to the vampire. "I wanted to earn his
favour — to show him what I'm capable of…"

"And you seem quite capable, indeed," said Sanguini, with a laconic nod to the dragon's
corpse. "Such talent should be rewarded. I offer you this — I shall ensure that the Dark Lord
learns of the existence of Remus Lupin."

Remus' blood turned to ice. It took all of his willpower not to flinch and give the game away.
"I would be very grateful to you if you did."

"I shall," said Sanguini. "Return home, young werewolf. And may our paths cross again,
under another moon."

Remus nodded. "Health to you and yours," he said, indicating the rest of the coven. "And
thank you."

Under Sanguini's watchful eyes, Remus knelt and placed an arm around Padfoot's neck,
exhaling slowly so that his hands wouldn't tremble. He closed his eyes, then tightened his
grip on his wand and pitched forward.

They reappeared in the French countryside, which was now lit by daylight; tall stalks of
lavender waved cheerily around their knees, welcoming them back.

"We made it," said Remus, hardly believing their luck. "Sirius, how quickly can you make a
Portkey — please, if they can trace us they'll know — they'll know you're an —"

"I'm on it," said Sirius, who was already back in human form. He pulled off one of his boots
and cast a nonverbal Portus charm before Remus could even finish his sentence.

Brilliant git, thought Remus.

"Moony, that was incredible," said Sirius. "You nearly had me convinced, and I know you!
How did you do it, pulling all that stuff about the Dark Lord out of your arse —"
"I'm a good liar."

"I'll say." Concern flashed across Sirius' handsome brow, but it was gone as quickly as it
came. "By the way, we still need to talk about your Patro—"

"Let's not. Is the Portkey ready yet?"

"Five more seconds." Sirius flourished his wand, though Remus suspected that particular
gesture was just for show. "Honestly, Moony. You can't expect me to ignore the fact that your
Patronus is a —"

Remus did not want to have this conversation in the lavender fields of Saint-Paul-Trois-
Châteaux. Or ever, really. "We need to get back to Hogwarts. Now."

Even Sirius couldn't argue with that. With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed Remus' hand and
placed it on the boot. And then they were gone, twisting hand-in-hand through space, and the
roaring in Remus' ears did nothing to drown out his panicked thoughts.

Sirius is alive. We're alive.

Merlin, what have I done?

 Closer to Home
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Lily had never been more excited for the holidays to end. She had a boyfriend — a real one!
— and they had so much catching up to do. The months of sham dating seemed silly, in
retrospect; they could have spent that time enjoying each other's company, instead of hiding
their feelings for one another.

But what was done was done, and not even the lonely train ride back to Hogwarts could
dampen her spirits. She spent the journey trying to read, though she didn't get further than
two chapters: her mind kept wandering back to James, and she caught herself smiling without
meaning to. It felt nice to be happy about something, for a change.

When she arrived at Hogwarts, she went straight to the Head's dormitory, and there he was.
James Potter was sitting in that yellow armchair that he loved, his wand pointed at a dozen
miniature Quidditch figurines zooming in the air above him.

She'd prepared a hundred clever greetings for this moment, but now that she was actually
looking at him, everything fled her mind. "James — hi."

At the sound of her voice, he looked up and ran a hand through his hair, grinning. The gesture
would have been very smooth had the Quidditch figurines not immediately clattered to the
floor. "Alright, Li — oh, shit —"

A few of the figurines had shattered, so Lily crouched, drawing her wand. "I can fix them,
don't worry…" She trailed off as she looked up. The way James was smiling made her heart
race. "What?"

"It's good to see you," he said.

Warmth spread through her chest, as invigorating as a mug of Butterbeer. "It's good to see
you, too." She tapped the mended figurines with her wand and they took off, flying happily
around James' head.

He held out a broad hand and helped her to her feet, then pulled her into an embrace. "I
missed you," he said, and she felt the words rumble from his chest into hers.

"I missed you, too. Isn't that weird?"

He laughed, and the sound reverberated through her body, as though they were one person
instead of two. She never wanted to let go of him.

"We can do this all the time now," she said into the hollow beneath his collarbone. "We can
do this whenever we want."

James hummed, pleased, and tightened his arms around her.

They stayed like that until her heartbeat slowed to match his. "I want to hear about your
Christmas," she said at last. "Did you get a lot of presents?"

"Always," he said with a grin, and he led her to the sofa so they could sit together. "My
parents are the best — they outdo themselves every year."

"You're spoiled," she teased.

James shrugged, not denying it. He held her hand as they talked, and Lily caught herself
staring at their intertwined fingers. It was so easy to sit shoulder-to-shoulder like this, to hold
his warm, rough hand, to listen to his stories. Why hadn't she known it would be this easy?
How had she ever hated this beautiful, exuberant boy?

The door that led to the boys' dormitories flew open with a bang. "Prongs!" exclaimed Sirius.
"We didn't know you were back." His gaze shifted to Lily, and she became aware of just how
cosy they must look on the sofa.

"Sorry, Padfoot," said James, and Lily thought she would die if she had to listen to them use
their ridiculous nicknames for one another any longer. "I just got back, and we —"

"Got distracted, yeah," said Sirius, flopping into the yellow armchair across from them.
Remus and Peter trailed in next, looking sheepish at the sight of James and Lily leaning into
one another on the sofa.

Lily reluctantly pulled her hand away from James'. Their alone time was over, apparently.
James flashed her a reassuring smile and turned back to his friends. "Glad to see you made it
back to Hogwarts in one piece. How did things go in Albania?"

"Albania was a fucking disaster," said Sirius.

"I knew it," said Peter immediately. "The Jinx — you found the diadem, but something awful
happened afterwards, didn't it?"

Remus settled cross-legged on the floor, shaking his head. "Honestly, the trip didn't go as
poorly as I'd feared."

The conversation was making Lily's head spin. "Sorry," she said, "but what were you doing in
Albania?"

"Oh, right," said Sirius. "Forgot you didn't know. We went to Albania to avenge my uncle by
finding the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, except Lord Voldemort apparently got there
first, so no luck. Oh, and Remus killed a dragon with his bare hands, and then a coven of
vampires almost ate us, but we got away."

"Pretty standard stuff, really," said Remus.

Peter was gaping at Remus. "You killed — with your bare hands…"

"Sirius exaggerates," said Remus modestly. "I had my wand."

Lily tried to square the fact that her mild-mannered friend was apparently capable of
slaughtering a dragon. "And the vampires?" she asked.

"Well," said Sirius, "naturally they could tell right away that Remus is a —" He clamped his
mouth shut so hard Lily thought his lip might bleed.

"Oh, for God's sake," she said as all the boys stared nervously at her. "I've known that you're
a werewolf for ages, Remus, and it doesn't bother me in the least."

Remus' voice was strangled. "You knew?"

"I've spent the last year and a half as an apprentice to Madam Pomfrey. And I'm perfectly
capable of drawing an Astronomy chart." Seeing as Remus still looked ill, she added, "It isn't
obvious, in case you're wondering. I only figured it out because I've spent an ungodly number
of hours in the hospital wing. And I'll never tell anyone your secret."

Sirius waggled a finger at her. "This one's too smart for her own good," he said to James.
"You ought to have stuck with Parvana, she never would have figured out Remus' furry little
problem."

"Setting aside my lycanthropy for a minute," said Remus, "you should know the vampires
ended up being quite reasonable. I pretended that I was seeking Lord Voldemort's approval
while Sirius… hid… and in the end, they let us go without doing us any harm."

"You left out the bit where you told the creepy head vampire your full name, and he promised
to put in a good word to Voldemort about you," said Sirius.

Peter's eyes bugged out of his head. "You did what —"

"It's alright, Pete," said Remus. "I doubt those vampires have regular contact with the Death
Eaters, let alone Lord Voldemort. Nothing's going to come of it."

James shook his head in amazement. "Merlin's balls. Vampires and a dragon… that forest is
more dangerous than I thought. Always knew you'd get out alright, though."

The praise rolled off Sirius' back like water. "Of course we were fine. We were always going
to be fine. But the Death Eaters have the diadem, which means that Uncle Alphard died for
nothing —"

"Nah, it wasn't for nothing," said James, and soon all four boys were arguing so loudly that
Lily could no longer follow their conversation. Nobody seemed to notice when she slipped
away to her room to unpack.

When she had finished, she climbed under the thick red blanket on her bed and opened the
novel she'd begun on the train. Three chapters in, the noise in the common area had died
down, and something small and cream-coloured wiggled its way under the door. It soared
onto her bed, and she saw that it was a bit of parchment that had been folded into the shape of
a stag, of all things. She picked it up, admiring the way it pranced in her palm, then carefully
unfolded it.
Sorry about that, read the note. We get a bit… passionate at times. Hope you're having a nice
evening back at Hogwarts. See you tomorrow for breakfast? Sweet dreams. It was signed,
'J.P'.

When Lily came down to the Great Hall the following morning, she found that she'd been
saved a seat in between James and Marlene.

"My two favourite people," she said, pulling Marlene into a hug. "How are you? How was
your holiday?"

"Busy as usual," replied Marlene, making a face. "Mum and Dad were out a lot — doing
business for Dumbledore, apparently — so I was the babysitter by default."

"I helped!" said Mary, who was on Marlene's other side. "It's wonderful being able to
Apparate, I can visit the McKinnons in the afternoon and be back in Middlesbrough for
dinner…" She trailed off, apparently remembering that Lily was no longer licensed to
Apparate.

"That sounds like a wonderful time," said Lily graciously. She was determined not to let the
memory of her hearing, or the impending thousand-Galleon fine, bring her down.

"Can't complain too much," agreed Marlene. "Nobody vanished or got murdered by Death
Eaters, so that counts as a win these days."

Across the table, Remus folded the copy of the Daily Prophet that he'd been reading and
handed it to James. "Take a look at this."

Lily peered over James' shoulder as he scanned the front page. Three Dead After Attack on
Gringotts Bank, read the headline.

At approximately six o'clock this morning, an explosion rocked Gringotts Bank, the
centre of commerce in wizarding Britain. The explosion, thought to be the work of a
Combustion Curse, left three wizards dead and at least a dozen wounded.

According to Burgock, the Head Goblin at Gringotts, the blast did not penetrate any of
the bank's heavily guarded vaults. Some prominent wizarding families doubt this
assessment, however, and representatives from the Blacks and the Malfoys have been
spotted applying for a transfer of assets.

Minister for Magic Harold Minchum urges the public to remain calm until the names of
the victims can be released. He assures the Prophet that the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement has devoted considerable resources to catching those responsible for the
attack, who at time of writing remain at large.

Beneath the article was a black-and-white photograph of Gringotts. Its imposing facade had
been partially destroyed, leaving a pile of smoking rubble where its great, bronze doors
should have been. Above the bank was the Dark Mark, black against the overcast sky.
Lily looked away; the image of the skull made her feel sick. "That's horrible."

James frowned and flipped to the next page, as though part of the article were missing. "They
didn't say how many goblins were affected. Everybody knows the goblins run Gringotts —
there must have been loads who were injured, or killed…"

"Goblins aren't wizards," said Lily bitterly. "They count for less. Didn't even get a mention,
did they?"

James' eyebrows drew together. He looked like he wanted to respond but couldn't quite find
the words. She wondered if she'd made him feel guilty for the society he'd grown up in.
"Yeah. That's bullshit," he said at last, shaking his head. He slid the newspaper to Sirius.
"Your family was mentioned, Pads."

Sirius' eyes darted across the paper so quickly that Lily thought he wasn't actually reading it,
but when he looked up, his face was grim. "Fuck."

"Careful," warned James. At the staff table, Professor McGonagall was watching them with
narrowed eyes. "What do you make of it?"

"The attack was a sham," said Sirius, and he crumpled the newspaper into a ball.

"Was it?" said James. "How d'you reckon?"

"It's obvious."

"Er, not to me," said Marlene, who had been listening.

"Look," said Sirius, "the attack had no target, no purpose. None of the vaults were affected,
so we know it wasn't a robbery. I think the Death Eaters just needed an excuse for my family
and the Malfoys to withdraw their money from Gringotts. They'll probably transfer their
assets someplace that's more friendly to Lord Voldemort. The Allianz Treasury in Bulgaria,
maybe, or —"

"…Somewhere closer to home," said Remus quietly. Lily had no idea what that meant, but
Remus and Sirius were now staring intensely at each other, having a conversation only they
could understand.

"Oh, shit," said Sirius. "You think it might be —"

"The same place as the other one," confirmed Remus.

"Makes sense," said Sirius, and even James was nodding now, as though things were
perfectly clear. "But where d'you think… maybe in —"

"Shh!" said James, glancing at the staff table.

Lily exchanged a look with Peter, who was just as lost as she was. The other three Marauders
were now engaged in a heated debate conducted entirely through hand signals, so she
smoothed out the crumpled newspaper, taking another look at it.
She'd been so wrapped up in her own life — in Head Girl duties, working in the hospital
wing, and pining after James — that for a moment, she'd forgotten about the war. No,
'forgotten' wasn't the right term. The reality of the war was ever-present, pounding in her
mind like the steady beat of a drum. But she'd been able to ignore it, to act like it was just one
rhythm among many.

She'd been a fool. The war was going to swallow her whole, whether she liked it or not.
When she graduated Hogwarts, she would be unable to pay her fine, and the Ministry would
repossess her wand, leaving her helpless when the Death Eaters came to call. And knowing
Severus, they would come.

And if she refused to relinquish her wand? Well, then she'd be on the run from both the
Ministry and the Death Eaters. She'd join the Order — they wouldn't care if she'd broken the
law — and use guerrilla tactics against Lord Voldemort and his followers.

She glanced at James, who was shaking his head so vigorously at Sirius that messy, dark
curls were flying about his face. For the first time, she felt something other than happiness
when she looked at him. There was no way around it: her time in wizarding Britain was
limited. Their relationship wouldn't last past June, even if she somehow came up with the
thousand Galleons the Ministry demanded.

Because after graduating Hogwarts she would have to fight as though her life depended on it.
And there was no way she could ask James — James, who was good, and joyous, and pure
— to do the same.

Severus Snape held a phial of bubbling, snot-coloured liquid to Avery's mouth. "Drink this."

Avery obeyed, though he grimaced as he swallowed.

Severus watched him closely. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm gonna be si—"

Severus wrote the word 'non-lethal' on the parchment he was using to take notes. "Unpleasant
gastrointestinal side-effects are expected. You know what comes next."

Avery looked hesitant, so Severus gestured with his quill. "Go into the secret room,
Edmund."

They were in the library, seated at a table mere paces from the bookshelf with a false back
that concealed Severus' hidden room, his private research spot. Inside the tiny room, Regulus
was waiting, disguised with a bit of Polyjuice Potion to look like Anita Appiah, a second-
year, Muggle-born Slytherin.
As the door clicked behind Avery and the bookshelf slid back into place, Severus drummed
his fingers on the table, waiting. Avery was bound to do the same thing he'd done every time
so far: draw his wand and attempt to curse Regulus-as-Anita. To date, none of Severus'
antidotes to the Imperius Curse — and he'd brewed many — had worked. Outside of Severus'
experiments, Avery had tried to attack Muggle-born students on at least four occasions,
though the house-elves that Dumbledore had assigned to watch him had intervened each
time.

But there were hopeful signs that the Imperius Curse was wearing off. Since returning to
Hogwarts after the holidays, Avery hadn't tried to curse anyone except Regulus-as-Anita.
Still, Severus was determined to find an antidote to the Imperius Curse, if only for his own
peace of mind. Such a thing was bound to come in useful after Hogwarts, considering that
Bartemius Crouch, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, was allowing Aurors to use
Unforgivable Curses on suspected Death Eaters. Severus was determined not to be caught
unawares.

A muffled thud sounded from inside the secret room. Severus growled in frustration, pushed
aside the bookcase, wrenching the door open.

Inside, Avery was sprawled on the floor, unconscious. A small girl with her hair in tight, tiny
braids stood over him, looking apologetic.

"He drew his wand," said Regulus in Anita's high-pitched voice.

Severus sighed. "Still can't be left alone with a Muggle-born, I see. Pity. I hoped the addition
of valerian root to the potion would at least make him hesitate."

"The Imperius Curse is bound to wear off at some point," said Regulus. "It's already been
four months, so it can't be much longer now. Right?"

"All the headmaster said was that it would last less than a year. Edmund may be cursed until
next October."

Regulus was apparently determined to find a silver lining. "At least nobody else has been
Imperiused."

"That we know of," said Severus. "Not that I care, as long as they don't implicate me."

"Even if they do, Dumbledore knows we're innocent."

"Which is obnoxious. But you are correct." Severus crouched and touched the tip of his wand
to Avery's brow. "Rennervate."

Avery's eyelids fluttered. "Sev?"

"Time for dinner, Edmund." Severus hoisted Avery up so that he couldn't get a glimpse of
Regulus' Muggle-born disguise.

After dinner, Regulus and Avery had their first prefect meeting of the new term, so Severus
retreated to his secret room to work on the next iteration of the antidote. He spent the evening
finely chopping frog brains, cross-referencing three different books he'd smuggled out of the
Restricted Section, and adding a bit more Boomslang skin to the cauldron of Polyjuice Potion
that simmered in the corner.

Satisfied, he slipped out of the library just before Madam Pince locked the doors. The
corridors were dark as he slunk back to the dungeons; on the first floor, he heard footsteps
and instinctively pressed himself into the shadows.

A pair of students were walking away from the hospital wing, talking quietly to each other.
"How are you feeling, by the way?" asked one, and a thrill went down Severus' spine. He
would know that voice anywhere; he would know it even if he went decades without hearing
it. Lily.

"Dreadful, to be honest," replied a calm, male voice. "But that's to be expected at this time of
night."

Remus Lupin, thought Severus. The werewolf.

Lily said something soothing in reply that Severus couldn't make out. The footsteps grew
nearer, and the two Gryffindor students passed right by the alcove where he was hiding
without seeing him. When they had nearly reached the end of the corridor, Severus emerged
and followed.

Wherever Lily and Remus were going, it wasn't to Gryffindor Tower; they descended the
marble staircase that led to the Entrance Hall, and for a moment he thought they might be
headed to the dungeons, but then Lily held open one of the great oak doors for Remus, and
they disappeared into the night.

Severus didn't need a lunar chart to guess the phase of the moon. He itched to follow them to
the Whomping Willow, where they would surely vanish into the tunnel hidden under its roots,
but —

Another figure darted towards the imposing front doors. Severus paused, his hand on the
bannister. It was odd — the newcomer looked a lot like —

"Regulus?"

Inches from the doors, the figure froze. Regulus turned; his expression was guilty, as though
he'd been caught.

Severus descended the last few steps of the marble staircase. "What are you doing?"

Instead of responding, Regulus looked longingly towards the doors. When he spoke, his
voice was flat. "What do you know about Remus Lupin?"

"I — what?"

"Remus Lupin. What do you know about him?"

Only that he's a werewolf, a monster, and a threat to all students at Hogwarts. "Nothing.
Why?"

"There's something about him." Regulus tugged open one of the doors. "I need to find out…"

"Wait," began Severus, but Regulus was already out the door and sprinting down the path that
led to the Whomping Willow.

Severus hurried after him, but it was no use. Regulus had a Seeker's physique, lithe and
speedy, and the distance between him and Severus grew with each stride he took.

As they neared Hagrid's hut, the lantern beside the door cast just enough light that Severus
could see Lily and Remus mere yards ahead of Regulus. Any moment now, they were bound
to notice the Slytherin prefect who was bearing down on them —

Severus drew his wand. He didn't know why Regulus was so fixated on Remus, but one thing
was certain: being this close to a werewolf on the night of a full moon was utter folly.

He skidded to a halt in the middle of Hagrid's vegetable patch, which was bare for the winter,
and cast several spells in quick succession. The first, a Summoning Spell, caught the collar of
Regulus' robes and dragged him backwards at full force. The second, a Silencing Spell, kept
Regulus from crying out. And the third, a Full-Body Bind Curse, ensured that when Regulus
landed at Severus' feet, he couldn't so much as twitch a finger.

Instead of attending to Regulus, Severus remained standing, watching the dark silhouettes of
Lily and Remus. They had stopped walking and were looking around; after a moment, Lily
took Remus' arm, and they resumed their clandestine trek to the Whomping Willow.

Severus knelt beside Regulus. As soon as he lifted the spells he had cast, he Conjured two
lengths of rope around Regulus' hands and feet, binding him.

"What in Salazar's name are you doing?" hissed Severus. "You have no idea of the danger
you put yourself in — you have been reckless in the extreme —"

"I have to." Regulus struggled to sit up. "I must find out. Something is odd about Remus
Lupin, and I need — I need to know…"

A horrible suspicion gripped Severus. "Lumos," he said, shining the wandlight into Regulus'
eyes. Regulus blinked, then looked away. No — he was looking in the direction that Lily and
Remus had gone. Not even the blinding light could shake his single-minded pursuit —

"Salazar's fangs." Severus lowered his wand. "You've been Imperiused."

Regulus didn't react; it was as though Severus had said nothing at all. "I have to follow," he
said, straining to see in the dark. "Let me go, Sev. I have to — I must…"

"Not on your life," said Severus, and when he Stunned Regulus, it was only with the slightest
flicker of pity.
He levitated Regulus' unconscious body back to Dungeon Thirteen and deposited him onto
the pristine, white sofa in front of the hearth. Then he sat at the table and paged feverishly
through the books he'd stolen from the Restricted Section.

Another Follower had fallen victim to the Imperius Curse. Why? Was it possible they were
being targeted? If so, Severus himself might be next. But that still didn't explain how Remus
Lupin fit into all of this.

Severus didn't sleep that night; he was too busy standing guard over Regulus' unconscious
body. By daybreak, he had five new potential antidotes boiling away in little cauldrons above
the fire in the hearth. One of them had to work. Because if they didn't…

Then Severus was in trouble, indeed.

For once in his life, Remus didn't mind the days he spent in the hospital wing after the full
moon. Never before had he needed to avoid so many people, and the hospital wing provided
the perfect excuse to do just that. Here, he was safe from Barty Crouch's leering during
prefect meetings. He was avoiding Professor Prewett too, though for entirely different
reasons; he wasn't ready to tell the Defence professor about Albania yet. He'd even skived off
Defence lessons, certain that if they so much as made eye contact, Professor Prewett would
know exactly where he'd been, and what he'd done.

Not to mention Sirius. Remus was determined to never speak to Sirius about the form his
Patronus took, and he'd been quite successful in this endeavour so far. His main strategy was
pretending to sleep whenever Sirius approached his cot, and some of these moments even
turned into real naps, which were very welcome.

Eventually, though, Remus had to admit that he couldn't stay in the hospital wing forever.
When Madam Pomfrey discharged him nearly a week after the full moon, he put up only
mild resistance. The new plan, he decided during the climb to Gryffindor Tower, was to
spend every waking moment at Peter's side. Surely Sirius wouldn't bring up the matter of his
Patronus in front of —

He nearly collided with someone on the second-floor landing. "Excuse m—" he began, but
the words died in his mouth when he saw who it was.

"No need to apologise," said Professor Prewett. He was wearing intricate purple robes and
looked as healthy as Remus had ever seen him. Had he spent the holidays with his brother,
perhaps? "How are you feeling, Lupin? Madam Pomfrey informed me that you'd taken ill…
but you've recovered, I presume?"

You know quite well that I have, thought Remus, but aloud he said, "Yes, thank you for
asking. I was sorry to miss so many lessons."
"You'll have to ask Potter and Black to catch you up," said Professor Prewett. "I've never seen
a pair of students handle an Acromantula so deftly… Almost as if they've encountered one
before…"

"Erm, I'll be sure to talk to them," said Remus uncomfortably. He couldn't stop thinking about
Albania. He'd seen the place where Professor Prewett died — where he went beyond death.
He'd spoken to the vampire who did it.

Remus' discomfort must have shown on his face, because Professor Prewett frowned. "Are
you certain you're feeling alright, Lupin?"

Remus wanted to lie and buy himself more time. He wanted to have this conversation when
he was well-rested and better prepared. But Professor Prewett had always been honest with
him; perhaps it was time to return the favour.

"Actually, Professor," he said. "You wouldn't happen to have a moment, would you?"

Fifteen minutes later, they were in Professor Prewett's office, and the Defence professor was
frowning into the cup of tea he had Conjured.

"…and then we took a Portkey back to Hogwarts," finished Remus. Professor Prewett said
nothing, but his frown deepened into what might have been a scowl on a less handsome face.

Remus took a sip of tea to give himself something to do. He could tell that Professor Prewett
was preparing the scolding of a lifetime, but there was nothing he could do about that except
pretend the silence was comfortable as he waited.

At last, Professor Prewett said, "I am having a hard time finding the words to describe how
extraordinarily foolish you have been."

Nettled, Remus said, "We made extensive preparations —"

"Did you?" Professor Prewett's voice raised just a notch, but it was enough to shut Remus up.
"Extensive preparations, you say? Impressive, considering no more than five weeks passed
between my telling you about Albania and you actually travelling there —"

Remus was well-acquainted with self-blame, and there were layers of guilt beneath Professor
Prewett's simmering anger. "This isn't your fault, sir," he said. "You didn't put ideas into my
head, if that's what you're thinking."

Professor Prewett shook his head. "I should not have told you about what happened in
Albania. I should have foreseen — you are young and overconfident, and so unaware of the
dangers…"

"Sirius and I are of age," said Remus a tad shortly. "And you aren't giving us enough credit,
sir. We figured out that Voldemort was after Ravenclaw's diadem, and I don't think anyone in
the Order knew that, did they? Frankly, I thought you'd be interested to know that the
vampires handed the diadem over to the Death Eaters. I thought the Order would want to be
infor—"
"Fifteen points to Gryffindor. There's your credit." Professor Prewett stood and began to pace
in the cramped space behind his desk. "And in regard to the Order, you think we didn't
already know?"

"I thought Dumbledore didn't send anyone else to Albania after what happened to Alphard
Black. Sir."

A pained grimace crossed Professor Prewett's face, and Remus suddenly remembered that the
Defence professor had worked with Sirius' uncle in the Order.

"Dumbledore didn't send anyone else," said Professor Prewett. "But the headmaster has
always been twelve steps ahead of the rest of us. And even if he wasn't, it doesn't take a
genius to deduce that the vampires might have sided with You-Know-Who and allowed the
diadem to be moved to Walpurgis Abbey…"

Walpurgis Abbey! thought Remus. That was Voldemort's seat of power, the famed Death
Eater headquarters located somewhere in southwest England. He didn't move a muscle, lest
his expression give away the fact that he hadn't known where the Death Eaters had taken the
diadem.

"I'm sorry," he said before Professor Prewett could realise what he'd just let slip. "I didn't
mean to upset you by going to Albania."

He could tell at once his apology had the desired effect. "Upset?" said Professor Prewett.
"Upset? Lupin, you could have died! By all right, you should have! Better wizards than you
have fallen in that forest…"

"I know," said Remus quickly, so that Professor Prewett wouldn't think he was making light
of Alphard Black's death. "But I'm not a wizard. Not fully, anyway. And that's why I
survived."

"That's another thing," said Professor Prewett. He took a seat in the chair behind his desk,
staring intensely at Remus. "You lied to Sanguini. That creature is older and cleverer than
most wizards, and you lied to him."

"I told him what he expected to hear," said Remus. "It really wasn't that difficult."

Professor Prewett closed his eyes; he appeared to be wrestling internally with himself, and he
did not speak again for a long moment. "You may have been reckless in the extreme, Lupin,"
he said at last, "but I cannot deny your talent. The Order could use someone like you."

"I doubt that. I expect they'd rather have people who are a little more… consistent."

"Trust me when I say that the Order needs those like you and me," said Professor Prewett.
"Lord Voldemort may have reached Sanguini first, but there with be other covens… other
packs…"

Remus forgot how to breathe. I can't. I can't be around — others like me. I hate them. I can't.
"But that's a discussion for another time," said Professor Prewett, who didn't seem to notice
how tightly Remus was gripping his teacup. "Suffice it to say that I am at once incredibly
disappointed in you… and incredibly relieved that you survived. Jaunting off to Albania is
something my brother Gideon and I would have done at your age, so perhaps I can't fault you
too much." He gave Remus a small smile, which Remus returned.

"Actually, Professor — the trip to Albania wasn't a total waste. I managed to cast a Patronus
— a corporeal one."

"Is that so?" Professor Prewett tightened his scarf, looking interested. "I don't suppose you'd
be willing to demonstrate…?"

Remus drew his wand and pointed it at a corner of the office. He thought about how Padfoot
had attacked the dragon without hesitation, and how he would have done the same for Sirius.
"Expecto Patronum!"

The silver dog was so large that it would have knocked over Professor Prewett's desk, had it
not been made of mist; it ran a few quick circles around the office, chasing its tail. As Remus
raised a hand to pet it, it faded away.

Professor Prewett smiled broadly, leaning back in his chair. "Ten points to Gryffindor for the
excellent display. You ought to be proud of how far you've come, Lupin."

"It doesn't look how I expected it to," said Remus. "Is that normal?"

"Certainly," said Professor Prewett. "You'll find very few wizards who are not surprised by
the form their Patronus takes. For the majority, it's a creature they'd never expect. I am glad to
find this rule of thumb holds true for you, as well."

Remus thought back to the day Professor Prewett had demonstrated his bat Patronus during
their lesson. "And your Patronus, Professor? Does it look the way you expected it to?"

Though Professor Prewett was still smiling, his blue eyes suddenly looked very sad. "My
Patronus… did not always look the way it does now, Lupin. Like you, I expect I will need
some time to come to terms with its new form."

Odd, thought Remus later that evening, as he climbed the staircase that led to the boys'
dormitory. So Professor Prewett's Patronus hadn't always been a bat. Had it changed after he
was bitten? The textbooks said that an emotional shock could do it. But if that was the case,
then why was Remus' Patronus not a wolf?

Maybe it's because you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, he reminded himself upon
entering the dormitory. Sirius was lying in bed, a textbook propped on his stomach and his
long black hair fanned out on his pillow.

"Moony!" said Sirius, bolting upright. "You're out of the hospital wing, then?"

"Yeah,” said Remus, trying to sound nonchalant. He scanned the dormitory. "Where's Peter?"
 "In the Divination Tower." Sirius rolled his eyes. "He's not convinced that the Jinx came to
pass in Albania, says he's looking for a sign that the Jinx is still active… Whatever that
means…"

"He's going to drive himself mad, obsessing over it like that." Remus pulled his robes over
his head, letting them fall in a heap on the floor. Trust Peter to leave the dormitory the one
time Remus needed him there. Well, hopefully things would be alright without him. As long
as Sirius didn't bring up —

"So, Moony," said Sirius, and Remus groaned internally. "About that Patro—"

"The diadem's being kept at Walpurgis Abbey," said Remus hurriedly, talking over him.

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"The diadem. The Death Eaters took it to Walpurgis Abbey. Professor Prewett told me."

Remus thanked his lucky tea leaves as Sirius pondered this new bit of information, his
previous line of questioning forgotten. "I suppose that makes sense," said Sirius at last.
"Voldy can watch over it personally there. Reckon infiltrating Death Eater headquarters is
any more difficult than fighting dragons in Alba—"

"I am not sneaking into Walpurgis Abbey. Not now, not ever.”

"Relax, Moony! I'm joking."

"Are you?"

"Of course." Sirius gave him a grin that Remus did not find at all reassuring. He wanted to
run his fingers through Sirius' hair; he wanted to kiss that grin right off his face.

He did neither of these things. "I'm going to bed," said Remus. "Madam Pomfrey says I ought
to turn in early tonight." A lie, but it would stop Sirius from bringing up his Patronus again.
Hopefully.

"Oh, well, don't let me keep you up," said Sirius. And then, because he was always so
thoughtful with Remus, he dimmed the lights and cast Muffliato on the door so Peter wouldn't
make noise when he came in.

I don't deserve you, thought Remus as he lay down to sleep.

He hoped Sirius would realise that before he had to say it out loud.

Chapter End Notes

Hmm, the plot thickens! And we finally get a look at what the Slytherins have been up
to after a record number of Snape-less chapters :) Thanks so much to all who comment,
I cherish every one!
 Bats, Baths, and Burglary

"…And behind the faceless queen is a raven with a twisted neck," concluded Peter, staring
hard into the crystal ball that sat between him and Remus. Professor Vablatsky had instructed
the class to practise their crystal ball readings on one another, which meant that Remus had
spent the last ten minutes listening to Peter make increasingly dismal predictions about his
future.

"Remind me what the faceless queen means?" asked Remus.

"A ruler struck down in her prime," said Peter. "Her potential wasted and her story forgotten
by all. She represents a life cut tragically short."

"Well, that's a pretty safe bet, isn't it? Not many werewolves live to retirement age, after all."
At Peter's expression, Remus added, "I'm joking, Pete."

"It isn't funny. I don't like to think about that."

You're the one who predicted it, Remus wanted to say, but he refrained. He was very
comfortable with the fact that his furry little problem would eventually kill him, but there was
no point in tormenting Peter about it. "At least you didn't see the Jinx this time."

"Yeah," said Peter, though he sounded unconvinced.

"It's been what, three months since the last time you thought you saw it?" said Remus
encouragingly.

"I did see it three months ago. It was clear as day."

"Alright, fair point," conceded Remus. "I just meant that I think the Jinx came to pass when
Sirius and I went to Albania. We defeated the dragon, which was lucky, wasn't it? But then
the diadem was missing. That must have been the reversal of fortune that the Jinx foretold."

Peter chewed his bottom lip. "Could be. It fits, but… I can't shake the feeling that there's
more to it. Or that something else is going to happen."

"Well, if we do get struck by some other misfortune, we'll have our answer," said Remus,
though he knew that wasn't particularly comforting. For someone who so loved Divination,
Peter had never been able to stand ambiguity.

"I guess," said Peter glumly. "D'you wanna do my reading now?"

Remus nodded and ran his hands over the smooth glass sphere. When he peered inside, all he
saw was a lot of heavy fog — the same as always.

"I see a lizard with seven heads," he lied. "Seven heads… perhaps that's the number of
N.E.W.T.s you're going to get?"
Peter's eyes popped. "You're joking."

"I'm not. It's quite clear… ah, but the lizard just scurried away. I see... is that a house-elf? It's
wandering, looking for something — a new home, perhaps…"

"The House-Elf Relocation Office," breathed Peter. "That must mean I'll get a job with them
after Hogwarts…"

"That's excellent, Pete. Just what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Peter looked like he could hardly believe his ears.

"Wait," said Remus, who knew Peter would grow suspicious if the prediction was too
positive. "I'm getting something else. Owl feathers… they're falling, gathering on the
ground…"

Peter's face fell. "That must be Mum's owl, Spook. He's going to die soon, then?"

"Maybe he's just moulting."

"No, it must mean he'll pass soon." Peter shook his head. "He's getting old, anyway. I should
write to Mum, give her a heads up…"

"You do that," said Remus, wracking his brain for another omen he could pretend to see.
"Hang on, something else is becoming clear now. It's… a bat?"

Peter looked at him, confused. "A what?"

"A bat," repeated Remus, who wasn't making anything up this time. Reflecting off the curved
glass of the crystal ball was a large, black bat, flapping its wings.

Remus looked out the window near their table. A bat the size of an owl was scrabbling at the
windowpane with its claws. Tied to its foot was a tightly bound scroll.

"Erm, Moony," said Peter, "is that bat — is it trying to get your attention?"

Remus said something very foul. Then he unlatched the window and pulled the scroll from
the bat's foot, hoping Professor Vablatsky hadn't noticed the gruesome creature scratching at
the glass. The bat flew away at once, fluttering in erratic patterns across the grounds of
Hogwarts until it was out of sight.

Peter was staring at the scroll in Remus' hand. "Who sends a letter by bat?"

Vampires, thought Remus. Out loud, he said, "If I tell you, do you promise to stay calm?"

"Calm? Why wouldn't I be…" Peter's eyes were round as saucers as the realisation dawned
on him. "No. Not — not the — the coven you met in Albania…"

"Maybe Sanguini wants to be pen pals," said Remus lightly.

Peter didn't laugh. "Sanguini? That's the — the leader's name, then?"

Remus nodded. The bell signalling the end of the lesson rang, and he slipped the scroll into
his bag.

"Aren't you going to open it?" asked Peter.

"I'd like a bit more privacy," said Remus. "Sirius and James should have a look at it, as well.
Shall we read it tonight, in the dormitory?"

"Better make it the Heads' dormitory," said Peter as they descended the ladder that led to the
Divination classroom. "You know how Prongs spends all his time with her these days."

"Lily? Of course he does — they're dating. I'd be worried if they weren't spending time
together." Seeing Peter's sullen expression, Remus added, "There's no need to be jealous of
Lily Evans, Pete."

"I'm not!" said Peter. "Just… it must be nice. Having someone, I mean."

"You've got me. Though I admit I'm a poor substitute for female company."

"I don't, though," said Peter. "I mean, yes — I know we're mates. But I haven't got anyone
like — like James has got Lily. Or like you've got Sirius."

Remus exhaled slowly to keep his heart from racing. "I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"Just that you two are — well, you're close, aren't you?"

Perhaps Peter was more observant than Remus had given him credit for. "I'm no closer with
Sirius than I am with you," he said reassuringly, though that was a lie and they both knew it.
"Anyway," he said, stopping in front of a tapestry depicting a unicorn hunt, "I've got Double
Potions now, and a prefect meeting after dinner, so I'll see you this evening." He tapped the
unicorn's horn with his wand, and the tapestry lifted to reveal a secret passage to the first
floor.

Poor Wormtail, he thought as he descended the tight stone passage, and he made a mental
note to spend more time with Peter. It was true that he and Sirius had been shutting Peter out,
though that hadn't been intentional — it was simply a byproduct of their preparations for
Albania. I'll be better about that, he resolved. Besides, spending more quality time with Peter
might keep him from obsessing over the Jinx.

Double Potions ended up being at once frustratingly complex and terrifically tedious. The
prefect meeting was no better, even though James did most of the talking. Remus had to
admit James was becoming a better Head Boy with each passing day; he was charismatic and
open-minded, a natural leader.
During the meeting, Barty Crouch did his best to drill a hole into Remus' head with his eyes,
but Remus was used to that by now. If Crouch thought he could figure out Remus' furry little
problem simply by staring at him, then he was just as witless as Helena 'Diadem-in-a-Tree'
Ravenclaw. The only unfortunate thing was that Crouch had apparently convinced Sirius'
younger brother to join in on the gawking; Crouch was much easier to tolerate than the grey
gaze of a thinner, shorter-haired version of Sirius. Regulus' unwavering scrutiny made the
hair on the back of Remus' neck prickle, but he ignored the pair — or pretended to, at least.

When he arrived at the Heads' dormitory that evening, the other Marauders were lounging by
the fire. James had apparently stolen a Snitch from his Quidditch training — Remus regretted
ever thinking that James was becoming responsible — and a shaggy black dog was chasing
the little golden ball around the room.

"Alright, Moony?" asked James from the sofa. "Took you long enough. Thought you might
have gotten lost after the prefect meeting…"

Remus had, in fact, spent about ten minutes after the meeting hiding in a girls' toilet on the
first floor. Crouch and Sirius' brother had tried to tail him back to Gryffindor Tower, and he
hadn't been in the mood.

"That speech you gave about the Forbidden Forest being off-limits was excellent," said
Remus. "The other prefects were hanging on to your every word. I almost believed you
meant it…"

James grinned. "I was very convincing, wasn't I?"

"Quite." Remus ran his fingers bracingly through Padfoot's fur as the dog leaned against his
side. Time to own up to the scroll that had been burning a hole in his pocket all afternoon. "If
you've got a moment, actually — there's a bit of correspondence I'd like you to read."

In the armchair by the fire, Peter sat up straight. "The letter from the vampire?"

"Hang on," said James. "Did you misspeak, Pete, or did I just hear the word 'vampire'?"

"It's true." Remus lifted the scroll out of Padfoot's reach; the dog kept trying to grab it.
"Who'd like to do the honours?"

"Give it here," said James. Remus tossed the scroll to him, and Padfoot leapt after it.

Sirius landed on his knees by the sofa, one hand on the scroll that James was now holding. "I
want to read it," he said. "I was there when we met Sanguini, I want to know…"

"Read over my shoulder, then," said James, and Sirius draped himself over the sofa to get a
look at the parchment that James was unfurling.

James cleared his throat. "'To the werewolf Remus Lupin,'" he began ("Lovely," said Sirius).
"'I write to you regarding the matter we discussed last moon. The Followers of Lord
Voldemort have visited the coven and were interested to learn of the werewolf pup who found
the Hollow Tree.
"'The Death Eaters also brought news of a banquet that will be held at Walpurgis Abbey on
the twenty-seventh of March; the Dark Lord wishes to meet the part-humans who are
sympathetic to his noble cause. In light of the devotion you showed in Albania, they would
like to offer you a seat at the table, in the most literal sense. You will be pleased to know that
myself, as well as others of your kind, will also be in attendance.

"'I look forward to working with you more closely, Lupin. Until we meet again, I remain your
humble servant, Sanguini.'"

The other Marauders stared at Remus as James finished reading the letter aloud. Only Sirius
did not look worried; on the contrary, he was frowning at Remus as though he'd just been told
a very difficult riddle.

"In hindsight," said Remus to break the tension, "telling a vampire my full name was a stupid
thing to do."

Nobody laughed. "You're not actually going to attend —" began Peter, but Sirius cut him off.

"Don't be thick, Pete, he's got to go. There will be a target on his back if he doesn't, and how
kindly d'you think Voldemort treats those who get cold feet?"

The room was beginning to spin. Remus sat heavily on the rug in front of the hearth. "Telling
a vampire my full name was a stupid thing to do," he repeated, without any humour this time.

"Cheer up, Moony," said Sirius, plopping down beside him and jostling his shoulder. "Think
of this as a unique opportunity."

"Some opportunity," said Remus. "Bluffing a vampire is one thing, but I'd bet Lord
Voldemort is significantly harder to fool. What are the chances he sees right through me and
murders me on the spot?"

"Zero," said Sirius confidently. "You've got to think more like a Dark Lord, Moony. We're
talking about a wizard who sees Muggle-borns as his inferiors. How much more d'you think
he looks down on part-humans? I bet he won't even deign to be in the same room as you lot
— he'll think he's too good for that. One of his lackeys will probably host the banquet, so
you'll have no problem flying under the radar."

Peter chewed on a nail. "I still don't see how that's an opportunity for Remus, though."

"Think about it, Pete!" Sirius jumped to his feet and gestured excitedly. "The Death Eaters
were always bound to recruit Remus — or try to, at least. It just happened a little earlier than
anticipated. This way, Remus can pretend he's interested, go to Walpurgis Abbey, collect
valuable information on old Vee's headquarters — maybe do a little light sabotage — and
nobody will be any the wiser!"

"Since when have I expressed any interest in casing Death Eater headquarters?" asked
Remus.
"Well, you haven't yet," admitted Sirius. "But Moony, haven't you considered what we could
do with that information?"

Remus was quite certain that any more consideration would lead to a panic attack. "Maybe
you should go to Walpurgis Abbey, if you're so exci—"

"The diadem!" said Sirius. "That's where the diadem's being kept, you told me yourself. If
you go and get a feel for the layout of the abbey — Pete could go, too, he's sneaky as
Wormtail — we could figure out where it's hidden. We could get it back."

Remus wished Sirius was joking, but those grey eyes were completely sincere. "That," he
said, "is an absurd proposal, not to mention incredibly risky —"

"It's not, though," said James. "Padfoot's right. One way or another, you've got to attend this
banquet. What happens after that is up in the air — maybe you can get out of committing
yourself further. But in the meantime, why not try to make some good come out of this
mess?"

Remus stared at him. "Are you actually suggesting that Peter and I risk our necks casing the
stronghold of the Darkest wizard of the age, on the off chance that we figure out where the
diadem is being kept? And then the four of us, what, go back to the abbey some other time to
steal it?"

"Exactly!" said James. "Look, I know it's a tad risky —"

"Just a tad?"

"—but nobody could pull this off better than us. We're top of our year, three of us are
Animagi, and we've got the Cloak. All you and Peter need to do is get the layout of the abbey,
and we'll be golden."

"I'll admit that we're talented," said Remus, "but what you're proposing is completely insane
—"

"Is it, though?" said James. "You and Sirius were the ones who figured out that the diadem
exists — not even the Order knew what was hidden in Albania. And now we know where it's
being kept. We're clever enough, daring enough — we can do this."

"Britain's at war, Moony," said Sirius, as though Remus could forget. "This is our chance to
make a difference."

Remus raised his head, looking Sirius dead in the eye. "You're asking me to risk my life."

For a moment, Sirius' resolve wavered. Then he set his jaw and nodded firmly. "We'll all be
risking our lives, if this pans out. But it's worth doing. Besides, we'll be doing more of the
same after Hogwarts, won't we?"

"Er, we will?" asked Peter.

"You ought to look at the Daily Prophet once in a while, Pete," said Sirius. "The situation's
dire, and it's getting worse every day. D'you honestly think you won't feel guilty, working a
desk job at the Ministry while Muggle-borns are getting murdered left and right?"

Remus suspected Peter would much prefer a desk job with the House-elf Relocation Office to
getting involved in a war, but all Peter said was, "Yeah. You're right."

"Besides," said Sirius, "if old Vee gets his way, there won't be a Ministry left to work for, in
the end."

That, more than anything, seemed to convince Peter; he straightened and squared his
shoulders. "So what do we need to do?"

"Finding the diadem's exact location is our first priority," said Sirius, "so we need to learn as
much about the layout of the abbey as possible. The banquet's perfect for that — Moony can
smuggle you in, Pete, and you can explore the abbey during the dinner."

The colour drained from Peter's face, but he nodded quickly.

"Stealing the diadem will be trickier," says James. "We'll have to figure out when to do it —
maybe on a night when Voldemort and his cronies aren't around. But it'll take all of us, and
we'll need to be prepared."

"Shame we've only got one Invisibility Cloak," said Sirius. "We can't all fit under it, so I
expect we'll need disguises as well. Polyjuice would be safest, though God knows none of us
are Potions masters. Maybe Lily could —"

"No," said James at once. "I'm not dragging her into this."

"But she's brilliant," said Sirius. "We'll need more potions than just Polyjuice, too. Antidotes,
Veritaserum, the Draught of Living Death… Felix Felicis would be nice as well, and she's
brewed it before. She could —"

"Not a chance," said James.

Sirius relented. "Fine. But we'll be at a disadvantage without her."

"I don't care," said James. "She's been through enough already without risking her life for a
shoddy piece of jewellery."

Remus closed his eyes as James and Sirius jumped into an earnest discussion about the
logistics of casing the abbey during the upcoming banquet. If he was honest with himself, he
didn't give two shits about the diadem. He'd only wanted Sirius to get closure about his uncle,
but somehow the matter had spiralled out of control.

And now Sirius wanted him to sneak around the abbey and be a spy. It was bound to be a
disaster. He wasn't cut out for spying, anyway; he was always tired, and his joints ached, and
he threw up at least once a week.
But this 'unique opportunity', as Sirius called it, belonged solely to Remus. There was nobody
else who could do it; he was the one who'd been invited to the banquet. And for better or
worse, he had never been able to say no to Sirius.

Eventually, Remus excused himself, saying that his knees were bothering him and he wanted
to soak in the prefects' bathroom before bed. This was a lie, of course; though his knees did
ache, the prefect's bathroom was on the fifth floor, and he was far too exhausted to go all that
way.

Instead, he went looking for his secret room on the seventh floor. This time, its interior was a
small but luxurious bathroom that smelled of pine and had heated marble floors. In the centre
of the room stood a large copper bathtub with clawed feet, filled to the brim with steaming
water.

Remus undressed and lowered himself into the tub with a sigh. The temperature was
heavenly. The grinding pain in his knees began to reside, and he rested the back of his head
against the tub, closing his eyes.

"There you are."

Remus jolted upright and nearly swallowed a mouthful of water. "Wha—" he said, coughing.
"Sirius!"

Sirius perched on the side of the tub. "You said you were going to the prefects' bathroom. But
when I checked the Map, you weren't there."

"I — I changed my mind." Remus drew his knees to his chest, quite conscious of the fact that
he was completely naked. "What're you doing here?"

Sirius looked at him as though it was obvious. "I wanted to check on you. You were awfully
quiet during our discussion this evening."

"That's — very thoughtful of you — but can't it wait until after my bath?"

"Sure, if you want Peter to overhear everything." Sirius stared intently at him. "You're
blushing."

"I'm naked, Padfoot."

"So? There's no need to be shy, Moony. I've seen you transform often enough. But if it makes
you feel better…" Sirius stood and pulled his robes over his head. For a heart-stopping
moment, Remus thought Sirius was about to join him in the bath, but then Sirius stepped into
a second bronze bathtub that certainly hadn't been there a moment ago.
"There." Sirius disappeared beneath the water; after a long moment, he reemerged, sopping
wet and grinning at Remus. "Better?"

Remus only extended his legs once he was certain Sirius couldn't see into his tub. "I
suppose."

"Good. So, Moony — a Knut for your thoughts."

"About?"

"The plan, of course."

Remus stared at his fingertips, which were beginning to prune. "I've already told you my
thoughts. I think it's insane, and I don't want any part of it, but… you're right that I've got to
attend the banquet. Gathering a bit of information while I'm there won't be the end of the
world. And if it turns out the abbey is too well-guarded to infiltrate… well, that'll put an end
to the whole thing, won't it?"

"Try not to sound so hopeful, will you?" Sirius tilted his head back, running his hands
through his wet hair.

Remus smiled a little. "Sorry. You know I'm a bit more… cautious than you and Prongs are."

"Yes, and we love you for it. So does this mean you're on board?"

A thrill ran up Remus' spine at the word 'love'. He tamped the feeling down. "I'm on board."

"Excellent." Sirius took a huge breath and slid beneath the water. A full two minutes later, he
came up for air. "That's a relief, Moony. We need you. But I don't want to make you do
anything you don't want to do. You know that, right?"

All Remus knew was that Sirius was the sole reason he had ever left his comfort zone over
the past seven years. "Yeah, I do. Thanks."

"By the way," said Sirius, wringing out his hair distractedly, "I've been meaning to ask. About
your Patronus…"

The water lapped at Remus' chest as he went very still. "That's why you were trying to find
me," he said, fighting to keep his voice level. "You wanted to talk about my Patronus."

Sirius dropped his hands from his hair, no longer pretending to be casual. "Well, yes. We've
got to talk about it sometime."

"Why? Why have we got to talk about it?"

"Because, Moony!" exclaimed Sirius. "I'm your bloody Patronus! If you expect me to ignore
that —"

"You aren't my Patronus," said Remus quietly. "Padfoot is."

"That's — I'm Padfoot! He's not a real dog, he's an Animagus — he's me!"

"Alright." Remus wrapped his arms around his legs, not looking at Sirius. "So you're my
Patronus. What else is there to discuss?"

"What else! Only — Moony, why?"

Because you're not afraid of the darkness in me. You run towards it, instead of away. Nobody
else has done that, ever. "I don't want to talk about this," he whispered.

"Please, Remus. Why?"

Hot tears pricked at the corners of Remus' eyes. "Because if we talk about it, it'll ruin
everything."

"It won't." Sirius stretched out a hand; Remus didn't take it. "I promise it won't."

"It will," said Remus. "It — fuck, Sirius. You are my Patronus, my protector. Doesn't that tell
you how much you mean to me? I can't — I can't risk —" He took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Please, can things just stay the same between us. Please."

But Sirius would not have been Sirius if he didn't want more. "Moony. What if things with us
could be better? What if —"

"I don't want things to be better!" exclaimed Remus. "And they won't be, they'll get ruined —
I'll ruin them, and — and then…"

Sirius rose from the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped out of his tub to
kneel beside Remus. "You've never ruined a thing in your life."

"I have," said Remus forcefully. "You don't understand, my condition — happiness is
impossible for me. And the closer people are to me, the worse off they are. My parents —
they had to move so much, they worried so much, they were poor all their lives because of
me, it was my fault —"

"Your parents love you. Your mother loved you."

"Yes, and she deserved better!" Remus was crying openly now, the tears on his cheeks hotter
than bathwater. "She deserved so much that she never got, because of me! That's why I — I
need to be alone, I need to live my life alone. I can't do that to anyone again. And especially
not you, Sirius. I can't, so please don't ask me, I can't…"

Sirius pulled him into an embrace. There was no point in resisting; Remus hid his face in the
hollow of Sirius' neck while Sirius wrapped his damp arms around Remus' naked back. The
tears were wetting Sirius' skin, but Remus couldn't stop them. He was shaking, though he
wasn't cold.

Sirius hummed, and Remus realised belatedly that he was murmuring something. "It's alright.
Everything is going to be alright."
"Everything is not going to be alright." With a great effort, Remus pulled back to look at
Sirius. "Lord Voldemort —"

"Lord Voldemort can suck it," said Sirius. "Look, Remus, I'm not an idiot. I know that your
life has been astonishingly difficult and that you don't share even half of what you go through
with us. But the world is falling apart, and things are going to get worse before they get
better. If being together brings us a bit of happiness, then we should do it. I'm not afraid of
the consequences."

"I am," said Remus softly. Their foreheads were nearly touching, but he didn't dare lean
forward and close the gap between them. "My best-case scenario is that I survive the war and
become an outcast — unable to hold a job, shunned by society — and then die at an early
age. That's the most optimistic outcome, Sirius. I can't ask you to be a part of that."

For a moment, Sirius said nothing. Then, to Remus' astonishment, he smiled. "You know,
you're usually so calm and reasonable that it's easy to forget you're secretly a depressed
nihilist."

"I beg your pardon. I am not —"

"We're Marauders, Moony. I find it hard to believe that the two of us together can't come up
with a better life for you than decades of unemployment and misery."

"You're more optimistic than I am."

"Besides," said Sirius, "I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself. I'm not asking you to
marry me, or anything. I just — you already know how I feel about you. Is it wrong that I
want to know how you feel about me?"

"Well, you've got your answer," said Remus. "Considering how I blubbered all over you at
the mere thought of hurting you…"

"Yeah, I think you left a little snot on my shoulder," said Sirius, and to Remus' great
disappointment he began to put his robes back on. "No pressure, Moony, but I'm glad we
cleared the air. Personally, I think we should one-up James and Lily by becoming the biggest
power couple Hogwarts has ever seen, but I understand if you need more time."

That was a lot to take in. "I… don't want to be a power couple," said Remus, because he was
nothing if not good at deflecting.

"Tough luck, love. No offence to James and Lily, but not even you can deny we're better-
looking than they are. And more interesting, too."

"I did not give you permission to call me 'love' —"

"Oh, did that make you uncomfortable? I can take it back if you want."

"No," said Remus grudgingly. "It was… nice, actually. Let me just — I'm not ready to give
you an answer, or maybe I am, but it's all jumbled up in my head. I need a bit of time to think
about it. Alright?"
"Take as long as you need," said Sirius. "But not too long, or my eyes might wander and I
might find myself falling for Peter…"

"I'll hex you if you do," warned Remus, and Sirius laughed.

"I'll leave you to your bath, then. Sorry for interrupting."

"It's alright. Funnily enough, I'm glad we talked."

"Me, too," said Sirius.

They smiled at each other. "See you in the dormitory?" asked Remus.

"Yeah." Sirius pulled open the door. "See you then, Moony. I'll be waiting."
 Tempora Mutantur
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Lily knew exactly what the Marauders were planning, of course.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she'd been in her bedroom when Sirius had shouted her
name, which had piqued her interest. Then the boys had discussed in astonishing detail their
plans to not only infiltrate Lord Voldemort's headquarters, but steal a priceless artefact from
under his nose, as well.

The entire thing was insane, but if anyone could pull off a heist, it would be them. James and
Sirius were the most talented wizards she'd ever met, and Remus was no slouch, either.
Though she tended to think of Peter as slow — most people did, she suspected — he was
honestly more skilled than the average Hogwarts student. James and Sirius were simply so
brilliant that they made him, and occasionally Remus, look mediocre by comparison.

But as clever as the four boys were, none of them had the same grasp on Potions that she did.
They needed her, even if James was determined to keep her out of it. Sirius, at least, seemed
to recognise this; during Herbology the following week, he approached under the guise of
borrowing her gardening shears.

"Actually," he said once she'd handed over the shears, "I was wondering about something.
Has James mentioned anything to you about…?" He trailed off, giving her a meaningful look.

"About what?" asked Lily innocently.

Sirius glanced at the other end of the greenhouse, where James was hacking away at a tendril
of Devil's Snare that had wound around his arm. "He didn't tell you? About the plan?"

"James hasn't told me anything," said Lily truthfully. She'd been surprised, at first, that he
hadn't confided in her, but she figured that was his way of making sure she was safe. It was
sweet of him, even if his concern was totally misplaced. She could take care of herself.

"I see." Sirius fidgeted with the gardening shears. "I thought he would've mentioned… erm."

Lily was enjoying watching Sirius squirm. "So what is this plan?"

"Erm. About that. Hypothetically speaking, say we wanted to steal something from the Death
Eaters — the real Death Eaters, not my brother and his stupid friends. What would you
think?"

"Hypothetically," she said, "I think you'd be mad to try something like that without my help."

"Right," said Sirius. "I knew you wouldn't want to, which is why this is all hypoth— wait."
He stared at her. "Did you say you wanted to help?"
"You were right the other day, you know. None of you are good enough at Potions to make a
Polyjuice that lasts more than an hour. Let alone the Draught of Living Death and Felix
Felicis."

Sirius' tone was disbelieving. "You spied on us!"

"You shouted my name in the Heads' dormitory while I happened to be in my room. That isn't
spying."

"Should've used Muffliato," muttered Sirius, but he didn't look too put out. "So you know
what we're trying to do? And you approve?"

"'Approve' is a stretch," said Lily. "But I am glad to see you lot finally take an interest in the
war. It's… heartening."

"Well, better late than never, right?" said Sirius, which was the most self-deprecating thing
Lily had ever heard from him. "We really could use your help, Wondergirl. Just name your
price."

Lily almost laughed out loud. As if the Marauders could offer her anything she'd be interested
in. She didn't care for Quidditch paraphernalia or gag gifts from Zonko's, so there was
absolutely nothing Sirius could give her that would —

Unless. A mad idea occurred to her. It was so ridiculous; Sirius would never agree. And even
if he did, there was no way he could actually make good on the only payment she wanted.
But perhaps he could give her a partial sum if he couldn't afford the full amount, which was
—

"A thousand Galleons."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She braced herself, preparing
for Sirius to laugh unkindly at her, but —

"It's a deal," said Sirius at once. He held out a hand for her to shake.

Lily stared at him. "It… is?"

"Sure. You know I come from money. We need you, and if a thousand Galleons is what it
takes to get you on board, then…" Sirius shrugged.

That didn't make any sense. The Blacks might be rich, but wasn't Sirius estranged from them?
Did he really have a thousand Galleons lying around to give her?

But this was the best opportunity she would get to pay her fine. She shook his hand before he
could change his mind. "You'd better have the Galleons," she warned.

"Wondergirl." Sirius sounded wounded. "Would I make a promise I couldn't keep?"

For the rest of the day, Lily allowed herself to feel hopeful. He must have enough money, she
decided. The Blacks were part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, after all — those old wizarding
families must be even better off than she'd thought. And with a thousand Galleons…

She could pay her fine to the Ministry. She could keep her wand. She'd be allowed to stay in
wizarding Britain after Hogwarts; perhaps she and James could even…

Her thoughts brought her to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. James. She'd have
to break it to him that she was getting involved in their little scheme. Would he be upset?
He'd been so adamant that she shouldn't be dragged into it, but she'd practically flung herself
in headfirst.

For a thousand Galleons, though… how could she have resisted?

"'Tempora mutantur,'" she told the Fat Lady, then climbed through the portrait hole.

Inside the Heads' dormitory, James was asleep in the yellow armchair that he loved; his head
was on his chest, and his glasses were askew.

Lily smiled fondly. His slack jaw and crooked glasses made him look years younger, like he
was still the eleven-year-old boy she'd met on the train. Quietly, she leaned forward and
brushed a lock of curly hair out of his eyes.

He stirred. "Alright, Lily?" he asked, blinking owlishly up at her.

"Never better," she said. "Is there room for two in that chair?"

"Be my guest," said James, and he pulled her onto his lap.

She looped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair. "You've got great
hair. Has anyone ever told you?"

"Don't take the mickey. I know it's always a disaster."

"Well, yes," she admitted, "but I like it like that."

"Good," he said, "because you'd be out of luck otherwise. Even Sleekeazy's can't control it."

Lily ran a hand along the back of his head, enjoying the softness of his curls beneath her
fingers. James closed his eyes at her touch. "Didn't your dad invent Sleekeazy's?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't work on Potter hair," said James. "Probably for the best, honestly. If I
had straight hair, I'd look like a brown version of Snivellus."

Lily laughed. "You would not!"

"I would."

He had a point, but she wasn't about to admit it. "Well, I think you're very handsome. Even
when your glasses are crooked."

He hastily adjusted his frames. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm."

He peered intently at her, which made her nervous; she looked away, laughing a little. "Have
I got snot hanging out my nose or something?"

"Nah, girls don't make snot," said James. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"You are astonishingly pretty, this close up."

Lily felt suddenly shy. "Stop it. You'll make me blush."

"You're even prettier when you blush."

She touched her nose to his and breathed in; he smelled like roasted chestnuts and soft
leather. "James." She'd meant to scold him, but her voice came out breathy. "You can't say
things like that and not follow through. It's a tease."

James' eyes wandered over her face; he seemed to be having trouble following her line of
thought. "Follow through?"

"Kiss me, you idiot," she whispered.

That got the point across. James cupped her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

It was still new, the feeling of his mouth on hers, and she relished every sensation. It was hard
to believe there had ever been a time when she didn't want him; she traced the angle of his
jaw without shame. He tasted like oranges.

James placed one hand on the small of her back and the other on her thigh, pulling her closer
to him. Their chests were pressed together, but she wanted him closer still. She needed him
closer.

He must have felt the same way, because he kissed her hungrily. The cold lenses of his
glasses pressed into her cheek, and he paused just long enough to take them off, dropping
them carelessly into the cushions of the armchair.

Warmth grew in the pit of her stomach, demanding more, urging her on. She didn't want to
stop, but there was a nagging voice in the back of her skull, reminding her that there was still
something they needed to talk about, something she couldn't keep from him —

Reluctantly, she pulled back and looked at James. Without his glasses, one of his eyelids
drooped slightly; it was so lovable she wanted to kiss him all over again. His hair was an
absolute fright, though she suspected hers was no better.

"Is something wrong?" asked James. "Did I do something? Do you want to stop?"

"No, this is —" Fantastic, though Lily couldn't say that out loud. Better to not sound like she
was gagging for it, even though she was. "I just remembered something."
"Not a scheduling conflict, I hope. I was thoroughly enjoying our snog — it'd be a shame to
stop now."

"No, nothing like that."

"Good." He pressed a hand against her lower back, keeping her close to him. "You were
saying?"

It was now or never. "I just thought you should know… I talked to Sirius. I know that you lot
are going after the diadem, and I want to help."

The hand on her spine tensed. "Sirius told you, did he?" said James in a tone she couldn't
read.

"Not exactly. I overheard your conversation," she admitted. "It was really sweet of you to —
to try and protect me, but I have to help, James. It's people like me that the Death Eaters are
after. I have to fight against them however I can."

Lily braced for an outburst, but none came. "Alright." James removed his hand from her back
and groped about the armchair for his glasses.

She blinked. "Alright?"

"Yeah." He pulled his glasses from a crevice in the cushions and put them on. Behind the
thick lenses, his hazel eyes focused on her, and he smiled. "I know better than to get in your
way when you make up your mind about something. Besides, you're brilliant — none of us
are half as good at Potions as you are. We could use your help."

"I want to go to the abbey, too," said Lily, and James' smile faltered. "Not the night of the
banquet — that's Remus and Peter's thing — but whenever we go back to steal the diadem.
You lot will need somebody to put you back together if things go wrong, and I'm the closest
to a Healer you've got." Unwittingly, her eyes flicked to his neck, where a thin, raised scar
disappeared into the collar of his robes.

"Yeah," said James, but he looked troubled. "You're right, of course. And it's your choice to
make. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't get hurt," she said, though of course she couldn't guarantee that. "I promise."

That seemed to buoy James' spirits; he trailed his fingers through her hair and tucked a loose
strand behind her ear. "You're right. If anything, I'll probably need you to save my sorry arse
again."

"Probably." Lily leaned forward, breathing in the chestnut-and-leather scent of his skin.
"Now, where were we?"
Severus was loath to admit it, but he missed the old Regulus.

Not that he found Regulus' twitchiness endearing — quite the opposite, in fact — but he'd
take a Regulus who was scared of his own shadow over an Imperiused Regulus any day. Ever
since he was placed under the curse, Regulus spent every bit of his free time searching out
Remus Lupin. Nothing could shake him.

As a result, Severus spent every bit of his free time getting in Regulus' way. He'd tried
reasoning with Regulus, which had been an utter failure, and distractions hadn't worked,
either. So he had taken to trailing Regulus through the castle and Stunning him whenever he
looked like he was about to make a detour.

It wasn't a particularly elegant solution, but it was working well enough. Nearly a month had
passed since Regulus had followed Remus to the Whomping Willow, and though there had
been several close calls, Regulus was no closer to figuring out Remus' secret.

To Severus' relief, February's full moon came and went without incident. Severus still
couldn't believe he was protecting a werewolf, of all creatures, but he was glad Regulus
hadn't managed to put two and two together. Perhaps there was hope after all that he could
develop an antidote before Regulus got them both expelled from Hogwarts.

The day after the full moon was Slytherin's Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Severus was
normally indifferent about Quidditch, but this time was different. Regulus would be occupied
as Seeker, relieving Severus of his baby-sitting duties for at least two hours. He was quite
looking forward to both the solitude and the chance to work uninterrupted on his antidotes.

After escorting Regulus to the pitch, Severus pretended not to see Avery, who had saved him
a seat in the stands. He returned to Dungeon Thirteen, where he spent a pleasant half-hour
fiddling with the temperature of his antidotes before the cauldron of Polyjuice Potion caught
his eye. It was nearly empty.

That meant another trip to Slughorn's storeroom to steal Boomslang skin and powdered
Bicorn horn. Ten minutes later, Severus' pockets were a little heavier, and Professor
Slughorn's storeroom was a little emptier. The supply of Boomslang skin had been
surprisingly low; Severus had taken less than he would have liked, not wanting to draw
attention to the dwindling stores. He would have to supplement the Polyjuice Potion with
other ingredients. Asphodel, perhaps, though he'd need to do some research to be certain.

On his way to the library, a flash of green caught his eye. Someone in emerald Quidditch
robes was striding down the corridor that led to the hospital wing. Lanky and pale, with not a
single dark hair out of place —

Impossible, thought Severus. Regulus was playing Quidditch, not sneaking around the castle.
Unless…

The realisation hit with more force than a Stunning Spell. Unless this Regulus was an
impostor. Severus wasn't the only student capable of brewing Polyjuice, and Slughorn's
stores had been running low.
The impostor was turning the infirmary door handle when Severus caught up to him. He
flicked his wand, and the impostor slammed into the wall.

"Who are you?" hissed Severus. He pressed his wand into the impostor's throat.

Regulus' wide, fearful eyes stared back at him. "Sev, it's me —"

"Don't waste my time with lies. I ask you once more: who are you, and why have you
disguised yourself as Regulus Black?"

"I told you, this isn't a disguise —"

Severus' wand twitched, and the impostor flew face-first into the window on the other side of
the corridor, cheek pressed against the glass.

Severus joined him at the window. "Look at the Quidditch pitch and tell me what you see."

"Er… there's a match going on. I see people on brooms —"

"Don't be coy," snapped Severus. "There are two Seekers flying above the pitch. One of them
is unmistakably Regulus Black. Who, then, are you?"

"I'm Regulus, and if you'd let me explain —"

With another jerk of Severus' wand, the impostor spun to face him. "Explain away," he said,
boring deep into Regulus' familiar grey eyes. Whoever this was, they surely hadn't been
trained in the art of Occlumency —

But there were no easily-read thoughts for Severus to peruse. Peering into the impostor's
mind felt like being deep underwater; he was surrounded by murky emotions and crushing
pressure. The sensation was familiar, but before Severus could dive deeper into the clouded
sea of thoughts, a new memory rose to the surface like a bubble of air.

A thin, dishevelled girl was climbing out of a painting… she stumbled, and three others
reached out to catch her, two boys and a girl with dark red hair… wandlight shone at the end
of a dungeon corridor, and Severus saw himself standing alongside Mulciber and the other
Followers…

The dungeon exploded into battle.

Severus had seen enough; he broke eye contact with the person standing before him.

"Regulus," he said flatly.

Regulus lifted his pointed chin. "I told you it was me. You could have listened instead of
pushing into my mind —"

"Legilimency is quicker."
"Only because I showed you my memory of the night Sally was found. Do you believe I'm
me, now?"

Severus was only eighty per cent certain that it was truly Regulus he was speaking to. "This
is impossible," he said, turning to face the window. "You're in two places at once. I can see
you playing Quidditch right now — I escorted you to the pitch myself, you couldn't have left.
So how are you here?"

Regulus grimaced. "Mind letting me go? It's easier if I show you…"

Reluctantly, Severus lifted the jinx that held Regulus in place. Regulus reached into the top of
his robes and withdraw a small, golden pendant hanging on a chain around his neck.

Severus stared at the pendant; it was shaped like an hourglass and filled with sparkling grains
of sand. "A necklace? I fail to see…"

"This is a Time-Turner," said Regulus.

"Make one more joke and I'll strangle you with that pretty little chain you're wearing."

"I'm not joking. It's what Uncle Alphard left me in his will."

Severus' stomach roiled with nausea. "He left you a Time-Turner? You said all you got was
trinkets!"

"Well, that was basically true." Regulus tucked the hourglass back into his robes, looking
uncomfortable. "I was surprised, too. Uncle Alphard did work for the Ministry — that's
probably how he got his hands on one. I guess he thought I might need it."

Severus could not have cared less about Regulus' dead uncle's reasoning. "Did he leave you
any other dangerous artefacts I should be aware of? You're not keeping an Erumpent horn
under your bed, are you?"

Regulus smiled thinly. "Just the Time-Turner, I'm afraid. And it's not that dangerous. I've
used it a few times and nothing bad has happened."

That was not reassuring. "What in Salazar's name could be so vital that you'd risk destroying
yourself in a time paradox to…" The answer came to Severus before he'd finished asking the
question. "No. Not Remus Lupin."

"Yes, Sev." Regulus pushed past him. "I have to figure out what's going on with him."

Severus was going to murder whoever had Imperiused Regulus. "One more step towards the
hospital wing and I'll stun you."

Regulus didn't turn. "Lupin is inside," he whispered, gazing longingly at the infirmary door.

"What makes you so certain?"

"He wasn't at the Quidditch match. And I saw him with Li — with the Evans girl last month.
She's an apprentice here, you know. So he must be here, too."

Considering it was the day after the full moon, Remus Lupin was likely convalescing in the
hospital wing. But Regulus couldn't learn that; he'd take the information straight to whoever
had Imperiused him. And if it got out that Remus was a werewolf, Severus himself would be
blamed for spilling Remus' secret. He was the one who had figured it out first, after all.

Regulus took another slow step towards the hospital wing. Severus raised his wand.

"Out of curiosity, Regulus. Where and when did you use the Time-Turner?"

"After the match, of course," said Regulus indifferently. "I went behind the changing room
and —"

"Thank you," said Severus. "Stupefy!"

Regulus dropped like a rock.

He's far stupider under the Imperius Curse, thought Severus. That was a flaw in the curse —
it made its victims too fixated on their given task, all else forgotten. Perhaps he could
improve upon —

On second thought, inventing a more effective version of an Unforgivable Curse would

definitely land him in Azkaban. Pity.

Severus Disillusioned Regulus' unconscious body and levitated him onto the grounds of
Hogwarts. The Quidditch match was over, and avoiding the hundreds of students who were
headed back to the castle was no mean feat. When he reached the Quidditch pitch, he thought
he saw a flash of movement behind one of the changing rooms; on closer inspection, nobody
was there.

He propped Regulus against the back wall of the changing room and lifted the spells he had
cast. "Rennervate."

Regulus stirred. "Severus? What happened?"

"I Stunned you. Again." Severus crouched beside him. "You were mistaken about Remus
Lupin, by the way. He did attend the Quidditch match. I saw him while bringing you back
here."

Regulus bought the lie without questioning it. "I see. Maybe next time, Sev you could help
me… you could make him talk, and we could figure out…"

"Absolutely not." Severus rose and reluctantly extended a hand to Regulus, helping him up.
"Besides, there won't be a next time."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I am stating a fact. This has to end."

And Severus would be the one to end it. If he didn't invent an antidote to the Imperius Curse
by the next full moon, he would go to Dumbledore and tell the meddling old headmaster
everything. Better for Regulus to be expelled than to be killed fiddling with time magic.

"Come," said Severus, and he took off, striding towards the castle.

"Where are we going?"

Severus thought of his antidotes, simmering away in Dungeon Thirteen. One of them would
be ready to test that very evening. "To the dungeons, of course. We've got work to do."

Lily measured out a spoonful of powdered Bicorn horn and added it to the cauldron in front
of her. She was on the seventh floor, in a room she hadn't known existed until that morning,
when Remus had shown it to her. The Room of Requirement, he'd called it, and it really did
have everything. There was a potions bench, bookcases teeming with useful information, and
a large duelling ring in the centre for practising spells.

Lily placed the tip of her wand into the fire beneath the cauldron, increasing the heat, then
moved on to the next potion. Nine cauldrons in total simmered on the bench: golden Felix
Felicis bubbled merrily alongside watery Veritaserum, while the Draught of Living Death's
surface was as stagnant as swamp water. She checked her notes — brewing nine potions
simultaneously was a lot, even for her — and added a single Jobberknoll feather to the
Veritaserum.

The door opened, and Remus and Peter walked in. The two of them spent nearly as much
time in the Room of Requirement as she did, preparing for their excursion to Walpurgis
Abbey. Remus went directly to the corner of the room that resembled a small library, while
Peter pushed a stuffed dummy into the duelling ring.

"How're the potions coming, Lily?" asked Remus, pulling a book off the shelf.

"A few are nearly ready," she said. "I'll finish the last steps on the Blood-Replenishing Potion
this evening, and the Polyjuice only needs another ten days."

Peter stopped hexing the dummy long enough to chew worriedly on a nail. "Did Slughorn
ever notice that some of his ingredients were missing?"

"I don't think so," said Lily. "He must not check his storeroom very often."

Peter relaxed; he'd stolen the ingredients for her and had been fretting about getting caught
ever since. "Good. You'll let me know if he says anything to you — if he even hints at it?"

Lily's smile grew strained. They'd had this conversation a hundred times. "I promise. But I
really don't think you have anything to worry about, Peter. I don't think he suspects us at all."
"Better for us," said Sirius, slamming the door behind him as he entered the room. "Put that
dummy away, Pete! I'll practise with you."

Peter blanched. "But I'm working on the Skin-Shredding Curse! You'll get hurt —"

"Only if you hit me." Sirius disappeared on the spot as Peter sent a jet of twisting black
smoke towards him. He reappeared beside Lily.

"You are so careless," she said. "What if Apparition didn't work in this room? You would
have been torn apart!"

"It's called the Room of Requirement for a reason, Wondergirl," said Sirius. "If I need to
Apparate away from Peter's feeble spellcasting, the room makes it happen."

"Feeble?!" Peter sent another jet of black smoke barrelling towards Sirius, and Lily deflected
it with a Shield Charm.

"Not around the potions!" she said sternly. "Unless you want to go to Walpurgis Abbey
without any Fearlessness Draught…"

"By the way, Wondergirl," said Sirius, digging in his pockets. "This came for you at dinner."

He handed her a creamy, textured envelope with a postage stamp on the front, marking it as a
Muggle letter. Inside was a sturdy rectangle of paper with floral accents swirling around the
border.

Petunia Evans

and

Vernon Dursley

invite you to share in the joy

of the beginning of their new life together

when they exchange marriage vows

on Sunday, April 30th

nineteen hundred and seventy-eight

at four o'clock

at Christ Church, Cokeworth

Sheffield, South Yorkshire

Reception immediately following ceremony

A hand landed on Lily's shoulder, and she jumped. Sirius was looking at her with concern. "Is
everything alright?"

"Oh — fine," she said. "My sister's marrying one of the worst men alive, that's all. She just
sent me a wedding invitation."

Sirius squeezed her shoulder, relieved. "You looked like someone had died. But a wedding —
that's great! I bet Muggle weddings are a riot."

"This one won't be." Lily made a face. "My sister has horrible taste. In everything." She
checked her watch; it was nearly seven o'clock. She needed to hurry, or she'd be late for her
shift in the hospital wing. "Would you mind adding three drops of honeywater to the
Unctuous Unction at half-past seven?" she asked Sirius. "I've got my apprenticeship now…"

"Consider it done," he said.

Lily figured there was a thirty per cent chance he would forget, but that didn't bother her in
the least. If it did slip his mind, she'd just make him brew the potion from scratch.

She was descending the staircase to the second floor when she stopped short, her grip
tightening on the bannister. Regulus Black and Edmund Avery were standing at the bottom of
the stairs. They looked like they were plotting something: their heads were tilted together,
and Regulus was whispering into Avery's ear.

Lily steeled herself. Over the past year, she'd done an excellent job of pretending Regulus
Black didn't exist, and this time would be no different.

The Slytherin prefects grew quiet as she passed them. She felt their eyes bore into her, but
she ignored them completely.

At least until Avery said, "Hi, Evans."

She whipped around so quickly she nearly lost her footing on the stairs. "Don't you two have
anything better to do than loiter around the castle?"

"We're not loitering," said Avery, who didn't seem to realise she hated him with every fibre of
her being. "We're on patrol."

"Then start moving," she spat, and she raced down the stairs before either could respond.

God. What was wrong with Avery? She'd heard from Madam Pomfrey that he'd sustained
some brain damage during the previous school year, but his friendliness was creepier than
outright disdain. At least Regulus had the decency to ignore her as thoroughly as she had
ignored him.

She gave herself a shake as she entered the hospital wing, trying to leave any lingering
revulsion at the door. Being distracted while Healing could lead to disaster. Luckily, there
were only a few students inside the infirmary, and none were acutely ill. Madam Pomfrey
was beginning to let her manage the low-acuity cases by herself, so after a brief check-in with
the matron, Lily got to work.
 If she was being honest, lately she preferred working alone, anyway. She loved Madam
Pomfrey, but the Mediwitch kept alluding to post-Hogwarts training opportunities that Lily
was certain she'd never take. Even if Sirius came through with the thousand-Galleon payment
he'd promised, there was still the ugly matter of the war. Perhaps she could work part-time at
St. Mungo's, but she certainly wouldn't do more than a few shifts a week. She wouldn't be
content to be holed up in the hospital while the Order fought for Muggle-borns like her. She
needed to do her part.

At the end of her shift, she was stripping linens off the cots when the doors of the hospital
wing flew open. Two students in Slytherin Quidditch robes stumbled in, supporting the
weight of a third player between them. The student's face was so bloodied he was
unrecognisable; his head lolled as the other two dragged him forward.

"Help!" called one of the Slytherins. "There's been an accident, he's injured…"

So much for her shift being over. Lily dropped the linens on the floor and waved her wand.
The unconscious Quidditch player rose into the air, drifting into the nearest cot.

"What happened?" she asked.

The other Slytherins exchanged glances. "Not sure," said the one who had spoken before.
"We think he was hit by a Bludger, but we didn't see it happen. He fell quite a ways, though."

So they had dragged a student with a potential spinal injury all the way from the Quidditch
pitch to the hospital wing. How daft can they be?

"Thank you," she said curtly. She drew the curtains around the cot, shielding the other
Slytherins from view. They must have taken the hint, because a moment later, the doors
creaked shut behind them.

Lily bent to get a closer look at the unconscious Quidditch player. His face and hair were
covered in blood. His nose or cheeks could be broken — or an orbital bone, God forbid —
but there was no way to tell with all the mess.

"Episkey," she said. "Evanesco —"

The blood vanished, revealing the boy's pale, slack face. Lily jumped back instinctively.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she said, steadying herself. "What happened to being on patrol duty
tonight?"

But Regulus Black didn't respond.

Chapter End Notes

The alternate title of this chapter was "Trouble Brewing" - I can't resist a good pun,
hehe. Thanks as always for reading!
 Artifice and Antidotes

Lily cast several diagnostic charms in quick succession, then swore under her breath. Regulus
had broken multiple bones, and his humours were completely unbalanced — his black bile
had tripled since being injured. To make matters worse, one of the broken bones was in his
neck. This was extremely bad news for both of them: it meant that Regulus might be
permanently paralysed, and that Lily wasn't leaving the hospital wing any time soon.

"It's a good thing you're unconscious," she told him, "because this is going to hurt."

She Conjured several lengths of cord, pinning him to the cot. Then she placed the tip of her
wand to his sternum and went about the gruelling process of re-aligning his bones.

She saved his fractured vertebra for last. To her relief, the splintered bone fragments
responded to her spellwork, shifting around delicate nerves and returning to their proper
places. With another wave of her wand, the pieces of bone fused together.

When the repair was done, Lily sank onto the edge of the cot, tired but satisfied. She hadn't
made things any worse, at least. There was still a chance Regulus' spinal cord had been
severed, but no magic could fix that. And if he truly was paralysed? Well, she wasn't going to
mourn for a disabled Death Eater.

Time to wake him up. But she hesitated, fiddling with the Ring of Rejection on her index
finger. Regulus might have once had a soft spot for her, but he was still an aspiring Death
Eater. He was undoubtedly more radicalised than he had been last year. She felt safe around
him as long as he was tied down, but she'd need to unbind him to test his muscle function.
Suppose he tried to attack her after coming to consciousness?

I'll use the Ring if he does, she decided. Thank God James had gifted it to her; touching the
glass band made her feel more in control. If Regulus lashed out at her, she was prepared.

She touched her wand to his brow. "Rennervate."

Regulus' eyes fluttered open. His grey irises met hers.

Then he lunged at her, heedless of the bonds holding him in place.

Lily jumped off the cot. She pulled the Ring of Rejection halfway off her finger before she
realised Regulus wasn't focused on her. He struggled against his restraints, thrashing wildly
from side to side.

So much for being paralysed, she thought, sliding the Ring back on. She flicked her wand,
and the cords around Regulus tightened, forcing him down. With another wave of her wand, a
small phial floated over and poured two drops of Calming Draught into his mouth.

Regulus' muscles relaxed, and he stopped fighting to get free. "That's better," said Lily. "I just
repaired nearly half the bones in your body, but you'll undo all my hard work if you keep
struggling like that."

Regulus blinked blearily; he focused on her with great effort. "Lily… Evans," he said in an
oddly flat voice. "Am I in the hospital wing?"

Wasn't that obvious? "You are," she said warily.

Regulus began to strain against his bonds, though with less vigour than he had previously.
"Let me go. I need… I need to find him."

Lily frowned. "Find who?"

"Remus Lupin." Regulus' gaze was unfocused, as though he were looking through her. "Is he
here?"

This was not at all what Lily had expected when she had woken him up. "That's
confidential."

"He must be here. He comes to the hospital wing often… you take care of him. I have to see
him. I need to know…"

"Know what?"

Regulus turned his unnerving gaze to the ceiling. "He's not human, is he?"

Lily's heart skipped a beat. "Of course he's human." She rearranged the potions on the
bedside table so she wouldn't have to look at him.

Regulus' response was barely louder than a whisper. "Impossible."

"What's impossible is you having a Quidditch accident when you were supposed to be on
patrol," snapped Lily. "Shirked your prefect duties, didn't you?"

"No," said Regulus. Even in his current, bizarre state, he apparently couldn't tolerate being
called irresponsible. "I did my patrol. And I went to Quidditch practice."

That didn't make any sense. "You're raving," said Lily. "That fall must have given you a
concussion."

"Wrong." Regulus' eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. "I was gifted… a second chance. I can
try again and again until I find what Lupin is hiding. I need to stay in the hospital wing…
until he returns…"

There was something about the cadence of his voice that reminded Lily of a Defence lesson
she'd had years ago. "Oh, my God," she said. "You've been Imperiused."
It was nearly midnight by the time Lily returned to the Heads' dormitory. She'd called for
Madam Pomfrey as soon as she'd realised that Regulus had been cursed, and the Mediwitch
had confirmed her suspicions. Together, they'd placed half a dozen protective enchantments
around Regulus' cot to keep him from leaving, and to prevent anyone else from getting within
ten feet of him. Professor Dumbledore had arrived shortly after that to question Regulus, and
Lily had taken the opportunity to slip out the infirmary doors.

Inside the Heads' dormitory, James was still awake, examining a roll of parchment as he
stretched out on the sofa.

"There you are," he said. "It's late — I was getting worried."

"There was a bit of trouble in the hospital wing," said Lily. She badly wanted to tell him the
details, but that would have been a violation of Regulus' privacy, as well as a breach of the
Healer's Oath.

"I figured," said James. "Something to do with Sirius' brother, right?"

Lily gaped at him. "How do you know that?"

James hastily pocketed the parchment he had been looking at. "Er, lucky guess."

"You are a terrible liar." Lily narrowed her eyes. "What's on that bit of parchment you've
got?"

"Nothing. Charms homework —"

"You finished your Charms homework yesterday."

James gulped.

Lily perched on the arm of the sofa and waggled her eyebrows. "Were you reading something
naughty?"

The look on James' face was priceless. "No! That's not — why would you think…." He raked
a hand through his hair, flustered. "It's a map, alright?"

"A… map?"

"Yeah. We made it — the Marauders, I mean." James pulled out the parchment and unfolded
it. It looked a bit like the map included in Hogwarts: A History, except far more complete.
Every aspect of Hogwarts had been sketched with painstaking detail, from the deepest
dungeons to the secret Hogsmeade passageways to the staircases that never appeared in the
same place twice. Most astonishing of all were the hundreds of labelled dots moving around
the parchment, each one representing a person inside the castle.

It took Lily a moment to find words. "You made this?"

"Last year, yeah."

"This is incredible." She ran her finger along the map until she found the Heads' dormitory,
where two tiny dots labelled 'James Potter' and 'Lily Evans' nearly overlapped. "It must have
taken ages to create something like this."

James grinned. "You know us. Nothing but time on our hands…"

A thought occurred to Lily as she examined the corner of the map that depicted the dungeons.
"Is this how you found Sally Dearborn?"

"Yeah. She was part of the reason we made the Map, actually."

"Really?"

"Of course. A student at Hogwarts went missing — and she was Head Girl, no less. It goes
without saying we wanted to find her."

Lily stared at the map without seeing it as she processed this information. She'd devoted a
large part of her sixth year to discovering what had happened to Sally Dearborn. To learn
now that James had been doing the same thing — it was overwhelming. He was so clever,
and driven, and good. She was so thankful for him.

"Are you alright?" asked James.

"Yeah. I just — I could kiss you right now. That's all."

His grin widened. "Don't let me stop you."

So she bent, placing her hands on the sides of his face, and she put all the affection and
gratitude she felt into the kiss. He smiled against her mouth. "What's brought this on all of a
sudden?"

"You," she said, because that was the only explanation she had. "You are wonderful. That's
all."

"That's quite a compliment, coming from you." He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with
such tenderness that she nearly kissed him again.

"Did you use that map of yours to check on me? Is that why you were looking at it?"

"Honestly? Yeah, I did." James looked suddenly worried. "I wasn't spying on you or
anything, I swear. It was just getting late, and you're usually back before curfew, so —"

Even if he had been spying on her, Lily doubted she could be cross with him. "That's… very
sweet of you, actually."

James reached towards her, and she allowed him to pull her off the armrest. They lay facing
each other on the sofa, limbs tangled together. "So what happened to Sirius' brother?" he
asked. "I saw you taking care of him on the Map."

"You know I can't tell you anything about that!"

"Not even if I ask nicely?" He kissed her on the nose, and she laughed.

"Bribing me with kisses won't work, either."

"Alright, alright," he said. "Forget I asked. But whatever happened must have been serious if
Dumbledore came to see him."

"Yeah." Lily rolled onto her back, looking at the ceiling. It reminded her of how Regulus had
stared upward, unseeing. "Actually… do you know of any magic that lets somebody be in
two places at once?"

"Er, I'm pretty sure that isn't possible." James draped an arm around her. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I think Regulus Black managed it, somehow. He was on patrol tonight — I saw him
with that creep Avery. But he came to the hospital wing in his Quidditch robes, and the
students that brought him in said he'd been at practice."

"I thought you couldn't tell me about what happened to him?"

"This has got nothing to do with why he came to the hospital wing, so it's alright. But don't
you think it's odd?"

"Yeah." James thought for a moment, stroking Lily's hair. "Maybe Avery was on patrol, but
Regulus wasn't. He might've gone to Quidditch practice right after you saw him."

"Maybe." The way James was running his fingers through her hair was very relaxing. She
resisted the heavy pull of her eyelids. "We could check the patrol schedule to be certain."

"Good thinking. Accio Patrol Schedule!"

He hadn't even gotten out his wand, but the scroll of parchment soared off the table and into
his hand anyway. "Says right here that Regulus was on patrol tonight," he said after a
moment.

"That's so odd. Maybe he really was in two places at once."

"Nah. He probably just used some sort of Slytherin trickery to make it seem that way." James
tossed the patrol schedule unceremoniously to the floor and resumed stroking her hair. "By
the way, d'you want to duel me tomorrow in the Room of Requirement? It'll be good practice
for our Defence N.E.W.T., not to mention if we actually end up going to Walpurgis Abbey…"

Lily meant to answer him, she really did. But she was exhausted, and lying next to him was
so comfortable that her eyelids drifted shut. She was fast asleep before she could respond.
Remus never thought he'd be glad that the Marauders were planning to steal from Lord
Voldemort, but he was feeling increasingly grateful about the whole thing. Between preparing
to go to Walpurgis Abbey and the crushing load of homework they were assigned ahead of
their N.E.W.T.s, there was no time for him and Sirius to talk about… whatever they were.

Admittedly, there were moments when Remus could have broached the subject, especially
when it was just the two of them in the Room of Requirement. But Sirius was showing
astonishing patience, not even hinting at the unfinished business between them, and Remus
had never been one for addressing issues head-on. He'd fallen into a pattern, over the last
seven years, of pretending things were fine until the Marauders forced him to admit
otherwise. Now that Sirius was giving him space, he wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

As the Easter holidays rapidly approached, and with them the banquet at Walpurgis Abbey,
Remus' indecision gnawed at him like an ulcer. Every morning, he woke up determined to
spare himself and Sirius the misery of trying to make an impossible situation work. Upon
seeing Sirius' grinning face at breakfast, though, his resolve would crumble, and a small but
impossible-to-ignore part of him would whisper, "What if?".

Tomorrow's the day, he told himself for the umpteenth time as he climbed into bed. I'll call
things off between us for good.

But he didn't do it the next day, or the day after that, and before he knew it, the Easter
holidays were less than a week away. As much as he hated confrontation, he also didn't want
to go to Walpurgis Abbey without resolving things with Sirius. There was a sizeable chance
he'd be murdered by Death Eaters, after all. A bit of closure beforehand would do them both
good.

At last, he was forced to admit the truth to himself. The problem wasn't that he didn't know
how to turn Sirius down — it was that he didn't want to.

This, more than anything else, drove him to do something very out-of-character for a Lupin:
he decided to ask for help.

Remus found Professor Prewett in his office, half-hidden behind a tall stack of parchment.

"Lupin," said the Defence professor, sounding mildly surprised. "To what do I owe the
pleasure?"

Remus immediately waffled. "I, erm, hope I'm not interrupting, sir."

"Not at all," said Professor Prewett genially. "Although now that you're here, do you mind
giving me a hand with these essays?" He gestured to the pile of parchment. "The second
years had to write about the Verdimillious Charm, and I must admit I'm struggling to get
through them all."

"Erm, alright," said Remus, and Professor Prewett pushed a quill and half the stack of
parchment towards him.
After he had finished marking the first few essays, Remus placed the quill back in its inkwell.
"May I ask you something, Professor?"

"Of course. I shall do my best to answer."

Remus swallowed. "Have you ever… been in a relationship, sir? With someone who was —
normal?"

Professor Prewett's quill stopped skating across the parchment. "Are you asking if I am still
capable of love, after being bitten? The short answer is yes, Lupin, I am. I have no doubt that
you, too, are able to love, if that's what you're wondering. You may not have experienced it
yet, but at the right time, with the right person —"

Remus shifted in his seat, embarrassed. "I meant — is it possible for people like us to have a
relationship with someone who's… well, human?"

The Defence professor's eyes softened. "I certainly believe so."

"But won't it end in disaster, sir? We spend so much time sick, and we die young — not to
mention the prejudice we're exposed to, how we can hardly function in normal society…
Who in their right mind would love someone with so much baggage?"

Professor Prewett circled a sentence on the essay in front of him. "Love is one of the most
powerful and mysterious forces in the universe, Lupin. If we only loved those who were easy
to care for… if we could train ourselves to invest our love wisely, like Galleons… the world
would look much different, and we'd be poorer for it."

"So you think part-humans can have relationships — healthy relationships? You think people
can love us?"

Professor Prewett nodded. "I do."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Because I was in love, once." The Defence professor reached for another essay. "And my
partner loved me back, even knowing what I am."

Loved, in the past tense, noted Remus. "But things ended between you?" he ventured.

"Yes, but my affliction was not our undoing," said Professor Prewett. "My partner passed
away."

Though his voice was light, the undercurrent of grief squeezed the air from Remus' lungs. He
was reminded suddenly and viscerally of the rare occasions his father spoke about his mother.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," he said, knowing the words were inadequate. I understand, he
wanted to say. I can see thestrals, too.

"Thank you, Lupin." Professor Prewett smiled hollowly. "His loss is still fresh, in many
ways. I had hoped we would have more time together… that I, who live on borrowed time,
might be the first to go…"

Remus' hand jerked, drawing a jagged line across the essay he was marking. He stared at the
ugly black line, his breathing shallow.

Professor Prewett had said 'he'. He'd referred to his partner as a male. That meant… the
Defence professor was —

All of a sudden, everything clicked. Remus felt foolish for not putting the pieces together
sooner. "Professor," he croaked. His mouth was bone dry. "Your partner… your partner was
Alphard Black. Wasn't he?"

Professor Prewett's smile grew wider and sadder. "Yes, Lupin. He was. We met through the
Order a few years ago — one thing led to another, and though our work was dangerous, those
were the happiest years of my life. I wouldn't have traded it for the world."

"Did Sanguini know?" whispered Remus. "When he killed Alphard Black… was it on
purpose? Was it revenge, since you escaped him?"

"I have no doubt of that." A shadow passed across the Defence professor's face. "Alphard,
Gideon, and I made the journey to Albania several times. I think Sanguini grew tired of our
presence and wished to finish what he started when he bit me. That Alphard was my partner
was an extra bit of cruelty — I'm sure Sanguini couldn't resist."

Remus had no idea how Professor Prewett could talk so casually about this. If Remus had
caused Sirius' death, even indirectly, he didn't think he could survive the pain. He'd certainly
never be able to speak of it without falling apart. "Do you feel guilty, sir?"

"Not in the least," said Professor Prewett. "Sanguini's actions are his own. And Alphard knew
the risk when he returned to Albania — he knew there was a chance he would be recognised,
even targeted. He gave his life for the Order, for the cause he was so dedicated to. My only
regret is that we didn't have more time together."

Remus absorbed this without saying anything. He marked a loopy 'O' at the top of the essay
in his lap without reading it. "There's someone I care about deeply," he admitted softly. "But
I'm so afraid. I'm afraid that this person… that he'll be miserable without me. Or that I'll get
him killed."

He snuck a glance at Professor Prewett, wondering how the Defence professor would respond
to Remus' tacit confession that he, too, was queer. But Professor Prewett's sad, smiling
expression didn't change.

"Life is short, Lupin," he said. "It passes quickly for humans and non-humans alike. How you
spend the time you were given is your choice, and yours alone. As for myself… I would do
anything for another moment with Alphard."

Professor Prewett may not have felt guilty about Alphard Black's death, but Remus certainly
did. As he headed to Divination that afternoon, all he could think about was how much
Professor Prewett missed Alphard. Remus didn't know what he would do if Sirius died; he
couldn't imagine Sirius being gone. The mere notion was unthinkable, like trying to picture a
world without magic.

He suddenly felt absurd for using fear and self-pity as an excuse to reject Sirius. If Alphard
Black could love Professor Prewett, then maybe Remus wouldn't make Sirius miserable, after
all. Perhaps they could work. And if they didn't… if it all fell apart —

Well, Remus had survived many things in his life. Maybe he would survive that, too.

March had been a very productive month for Severus.

The teachers had presumably realised that Regulus was under the Imperius Curse, as he was
being held in the hospital wing for the time being. As a result, Severus' schedule had freed up
considerably, as he no longer needed to spend every waking hour keeping Regulus in line.
Instead, he devoted his time to refining the antidote he was inventing. He'd created several
iterations, and though none had been exactly right, he was getting closer.

His first big breakthrough was discovering an ancient enchantment in a dusty old library
book written entirely in Gobbledegook, the Goblin language. The spell was supposed to be a
universal counter-charm that, to the unsuspecting eye, looked like a downpour of water. The
author claimed it was capable of washing away all magic, including the Imperius Curse.

Severus was so elated at this discovery that he hardly slept. The author had neglected to
describe how the enchantment was performed, but that didn't matter. Severus finally had
proof that what he was attempting was possible: the Imperius Curse could be removed. Each
scrapped antidote was a step closer to a cure.

His second breakthrough came only a few days after the first.

"Drink," he commanded Avery. They were in Dungeon Thirteen, and empty phials littered the
table before them; only one antidote remained of the half-dozen they'd tested that evening.

Avery swallowed the final potion and frowned. "Tastes like water."

"Good," said Severus. He'd based this antidote on a modified version of Veritaserum, making
it odourless and tasteless — like the waterfall the Goblin enchantment was modelled after.
"Now close your eyes."

Avery obeyed, and Severus strode to the cauldron simmering in the hearth. Using a silver
spoon, he scooped up a few drops of Polyjuice Potion and mixed them with a dark hair. With
a grimace, he swallowed the concoction — he'd made this particular flavour several times
before, and the taste was cloyingly sweet. His body contorted, and he began to shrink,
becoming Muggle-born first year Anita Appiah.

"Open your eyes," said Severus in Anita's high, sweet voice.

Avery's lids snapped open. He stared at Severus for a long moment; after seventeen seconds,
he reached for his wand.

Severus Disarmed him with barely a glance. "Better, but not good enough," he said. "You
hesitated. Why?"

Avery scrunched up his face, remembering. "Because it seemed stupid."

"What seemed stupid?"

"The voice said to attack you. But I didn't want to. There wasn't any reason for it."

"And now?"

"Now I do want to," admitted Avery. "And the voice is really loud. But you took my wand."

"So close," muttered Severus. His bones and skin began to stretch like caramel as the
Polyjuice Potion wore off. He ran a hand over his face, satisfied that his body was his own
again. "Perhaps a couple of lionfish spines … yes, combined with salamander blood and left
to simmer…"

"Er, Sev?" said Avery. "We've got Double Potions now."

"You go." Severus swept the phials on the table into his robes. "You can do me a favour while
you're there."

"A favour?"

"Bring me a hair from Lily Evan's head." Severus kept his eyes on the table, avoiding Avery's
gaze. "A Summoning Charm should do the trick — that will pick up any she might have
shed. I do not want you to pull her hair or otherwise use force."

"But she's a —"

"Summon a hair that might be stuck to her robes," said Severus. "Be discreet. Deviate from
my orders and you shall have Flobberworm soup for dinner for a month."

Avery gulped and backed out the door.

Two hours later, he returned, clasping both hands together as though he'd caught a frog. "I've
got one."

"Did you do as you were told?"

"Yes!" said Avery petulantly. "Nobody noticed."

"Good." Severus ladled a decent amount of Polyjuice Potion into one of the empty phials and
held it out to Avery. "Drop it in."

Avery complied, and the potion turned a deep golden ochre with a metallic sheen.
Severus gripped the phial tightly, reluctant to bring it to his mouth and swallow. This would
be different from impersonating a first-year who was a stranger to him. The thought of
transforming into Lily Evans felt like sacrilege.

But it had to be done. He needed a way to get close to Regulus, who was locked away in the
hospital wing and not allowed visitors. Impersonating Madam Pomfrey was far too risky, as
he knew no healing magic. Disguising himself as her apprentice, however…

If only her apprentice wasn't Lily Evans, the only person in this godforsaken castle that
Severus still cared about.

He stared at the deep golden potion, unwilling to drink it. Lily despised him. She wanted
nothing to do with him. If she knew what he was about to do, she would feel violated.

But the stakes were too high to back down. Regulus wasn't harmless like addlebrained Avery;
he could carry out commands under the Imperius Curse with extreme skill. That, combined
with his irresponsible use of the Time-Turner, made him a threat to every student at
Hogwarts, Lily Evans included. And only Severus could do anything about it.

If Severus thought any more about the subject, he would lose his nerve completely. He raised
the potion to his lips and gulped down half of it, storing the rest in his robes. The
transformation was immediate; dark red hair tumbled down his shoulders while his limbs and
torso became softer, more rounded.

To distract himself, he focused on Charming his robes to alter their length. "I'll meet you in
the common room," he told Avery. The sound of her voice made his heart ache.

As he made his way to the first floor, the discomfort he felt at being in her body gave way to
a different sort of unease. He was used to traversing the castle with complete freedom, though
he'd never really noticed that before. Few people ever looked at him, and nobody
acknowledged his presence, save Regulus and Avery.

But being Lily was different. Everybody saw her. The first and second years mostly seemed
in awe, but it wasn't all pleasant; he passed a cluster of sneering Slytherin girls, and a burly
Hufflepuff pushed by him on the marble staircase, muttering, "Watch it, Mudblood."

"Fifty points from Hufflepuff," responded Severus, though he knew it was no use. He might
look like Lily, but he certainly didn't have any of her authority.

By the time he reached the hospital wing, he wanted nothing more than to duck into a broom
closet and hide until the Polyjuice Potion wore off. Salazar's fangs, how does she manage?
he thought. Half the castle adored her, while the other half seemed to think she was better off
dead. The constant attention was beyond draining.

In hindsight, impersonating Lily had been an act of extreme hubris. He'd thought he'd known
her, but a short walk through the castle had proved that he was completely ignorant about her
life.
And she deserved to live in peace, without hecklers or children placing her on a pedestal.
Severus wished he had cast Sectumsempra on the Hufflepuff who had called her a Mudblood.
Perhaps when he was back in his own body, he could sneak down to the Hufflepuff common
room and make sure the boy learned a lesson he'd never forget.

Until then, Severus still had Regulus to attend to. He pushed open the doors to the hospital
wing and crept inside.

Madam Pomfrey's back was to him as she tended to a girl with a broken arm. Just beyond her
was a cot with its curtains drawn; the air around it shimmered with protective charms.

Regulus was being kept behind those curtains, no doubt. Severus straightened his spine as he
walked, trying to act like he belonged in the infirmary.

"Lily?"

Severus swore internally. Madam Pomfrey had noticed him.

"What are you doing here?" asked Madam Pomfrey. "I wasn't expecting you for another
hour."

"I — er. I thought I'd get started early. If you don't mind." Severus winced at how false he
sounded. Though he was speaking with Lily's voice, he had none of her self-assurance.

If Madam Pomfrey noticed something was amiss, she didn't let on. "You can bring our friend
his dinner," she said, nodding at a silver tray on a nearby table.

Severus nodded, not trusting himself to speak again. He picked up the tray and held his
breath as he stepped into the protective charms surrounding the cot. But he was able to pass
without issue; his disguise had fooled the enchantments.

On the other side of the curtains, Regulus was lying lethargically on the cot, staring into
space.

"Your dinner," said Severus.

Regulus' listlessness vanished as his grey eyes flicked towards Severus. He hastened to sit up,
smoothing his hair with a hand. "Lily. Hi — thanks."

Severus frowned. There was no reason for Regulus to be so excited that Lily Evans had
brought him dinner. Either Madam Pomfrey was starving him — unlikely — or else he'd
taken a fancy to Lily.

Severus clenched his jaw so hard he nearly chipped a tooth. He should have foreseen this,
with Regulus being in the hospital wing. It was impossible to spend any amount of time
around Lily Evans and not fancy her. But Regulus was delusional if he believed anything
would ever happen between them. The mere thought was comical — yet Severus had never
felt less like laughing.

"Eat." Severus all but threw the tray onto Regulus' lap.
Regulus blinked, startled, but he picked up a fork and took a bite of roasted potatoes. As
Severus watched Regulus chew, he calculated his next steps. He'd need a delicate hand to do
what came next —

"I thought you weren't supposed to be here," said Regulus.

Severus groaned internally. Was Regulus trying to make small talk? He really must be mad
about Lily.

"I've got my apprenticeship," said Severus flatly. "Of course I'm allowed to be here."

"But you shouldn't get too close to me, right?"

"Yes. I ought to stay far away."

Regulus mulled this over as he swallowed his potatoes. "Then why are you still here?"

"I need to check your humours," lied Severus.

Regulus pushed his tray away at once. "Go ahead."

It was pathetic how eager Regulus looked. He was either desperate for company or badly
head-over-heels for Lily. Or both.

Severus drew his wand and touched the inside of Regulus' wrist. "Eucrasio."

Regulus glanced at Severus' wand, and Severus tensed. Did Regulus know what Lily's wand
looked like? Would he recognise that Severus was using his own wand, not hers?

"Close your eyes," commanded Severus. Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, apparently eager to
please. With his free hand, Severus withdraw a phial of Sleeping Draught from his robes and
sprinkled the contents into Regulus' pumpkin juice.

"You're lacking yellow bile," he said once the spell was complete, stowing his wand up his
sleeve. "You haven't been taking in enough fluids."

"Oh — sorry," said Regulus, and he immediately took a long drink of pumpkin juice.

As Regulus placed the cup back on the tray, his grip slackened, and the pumpkin juice spilt
across his sheets. His eyelids drooped as his head lolled onto his chest.

Severus smirked. That had been almost too easy.

Once he was certain Regulus was asleep, he reached around Regulus' neck and unclasped the
golden chain that was hidden beneath his high-collared robes.

"Geminio," he whispered. An identical copy of the Time-Turner appeared in his hand. He

placed the false Time-Turner around Regulus' neck and slipped the real one into his pocket.
You'll thank me later, he thought silently to Regulus. Then he hastened out of the hospital
wing, telling Madam Pomfrey that he'd left something important in Gryffindor Tower. There
was no need for him to return to the infirmary; the real Lily Evans would show up shortly,
and nobody would be any the wiser.

He could feel the Time-Turner burning a hole in his pocket with every step he took towards
the dungeons. It was almost inconceivable that Regulus had carried around such a powerful
artefact for months. The temptation to meddle with time must have been enormous, and
Regulus had succumbed in the end, under the thrall of the Imperius Curse.

That was why Severus had stolen the Time-Turner. It was for the good of everyone in the
castle: temporal magic was incredibly unstable. Everyone at Hogwarts could be unmade with
a single turn of the hourglass. Severus was likely the only person in the castle who could
withstand the temptation to use such an object.

All the same, after the Polyjuice wore off, he went to the Slytherin boys' dormitory and
locked himself in the toilet. He stared at himself in the mirror as he fastened the golden chain
around his throat.

He would never use the Time-Turner. But it was safest hanging around his neck.

Just in case.
 New Illness, Old Cures
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Severus paced back and forth in front of the hearth in Dungeon Thirteen. He'd taken
Polyjuice again, and the Muggle-born first year he was impersonating was so short he had to
hoist up his robes as he paced.

"Well?" he said irritably.

Avery was sitting in a nearby armchair, looking unnervingly relaxed. "Well what?"

"It's been nearly fifteen minutes since I took Polyjuice, and you have yet to raise your wand
against me."

"Do you want me to curse you? I can try, if you like —"

"Absolutely not." Severus turned on his heel, wearing a line through the plush carpet. Judging
by Avery's response, his latest antidote to the Imperius Curse seemed to be working, but it
was too soon to get his hopes up. "And the Imperius Curse?" he shot at Avery. "Do you truly
feel no compulsion to harm me?"

Avery shook his head. "The voice got quiet all of a sudden."

"When did this happen?"

"Just after I drank the water you gave me."

It would be a waste of words to explain that that hadn't been water. "A promising start," said
Severus. "We shall have to wait another hour to be certain that you are free from the spell's
influence."

"An hour? But I was gonna play Gobstones with Emma Vanity…"

Severus had actually been planning on keeping Avery in Dungeon Thirteen for three more
hours — it wasn't like Avery had a firm grasp on the passage of time, after all. "You and I can
play Gobstones. There's a set on the shelf behind you."

Avery pouted. "It isn't fun playing Gobstones with you. You always win."

"Then sit here in silence, if you'd rather, and let me revise for our N.E.W.T.s."

Avery muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'huge bore', but he got the
Gobstones box off the shelf and began to set up the game.

Nineteen consecutive wins later, Severus peered at Avery. "How are you feeling now?"
"Hungry. I want beef casserole."

Severus grit his teeth. "I was referring to the Imperius Curse."

"Oh, that." Avery rolled a Gobstone towards the centre of the circle; the stone veered away
and disappeared under the sofa. "The voice has been quiet for a long time."

"Ever since you drank the antidote — the water?"

Avery nodded. "I think the voice is gone for good."

Severus' heart thrummed a triplet of hard, fast beats, but he tamped down his excitement. He
wouldn't celebrate until he was sure the antidote had worked.

"There's only one way to be certain," he said, drawing his wand. "Will you allow me to cast
the Imperius Curse, Edmund?"

Avery's face fell. "Do you have to?"

"It shall only be for a moment. I will give you the antidote right away."

Avery poked at his pile of Gobstones, dejected. "Alright," he said at last.

Severus didn't hesitate. "Imperio."

Avery's jaw slackened. He stared blankly ahead, awaiting Severus' orders. Severus could
have made him do anything, but his heart wasn't in it. "Stand on one foot," he commanded,
and Avery immediately complied.

As Avery wobbled on one leg, Severus went to the cauldron simmering in the fireplace and
ladled a mouthful of clear potion into a phial. "Drink," he said, handing it to Avery.

Avery swallowed the potion. As soon as he had finished — casually, as if it were an

afterthought — he unbent his leg, returning both feet to the floor.

They stared at each other.

"I didn't tell you to stop standing on one foot," said Severus.

Avery broke into a wide, childish grin. "You did it, Sev! You invented a cure!"

Severus had merely extrapolated from an ancient Goblin text, but there was no need to ruin
the moment with semantics. He slid a hand into his pocket and closed his fingers around a
phial of deep golden Polyjuice — the phial that contained a hair from Lily Evans. "Let's go."

"Is it dinnertime?" asked Avery excitedly.

"Not yet," said Severus. "First we have to pay Regulus a visit."

This time, Severus waited until he was outside the hospital wing to swallow the last of the
Polyjuice Potion. Thirty unpleasant seconds later, he was back in Lily's skin.
"Eat these while you wait," he told Avery, handing him a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour
Beans. He'd eaten all the good ones while working on the antidote, but Avery didn't need to
know that.

Inside the infirmary, he slunk past Madam Pomfrey — "You're early again, Lily," she
remarked — and stepped through the curtains that surrounded Regulus' cot.

"I have —"

Before Severus could finish his sentence, Regulus lunged at him.

Severus leapt backwards, though after a moment he realised he needn't have done so; a set of
silver manacles chained Regulus to the cot.

"You've been behaving poorly," commented Severus with a nod at the manacles. "Who did
you attack? Pomfrey? Me?"

The way Regulus glared at him made the answer plain. He struggled against his bindings
with such violence that the cot threatened to tip over.

"Still under the thrall of the Imperius Curse, I see," said Severus.

Regulus spat. "Mudbl—"

Severus silenced him with a flick of his wand. "Never say that word in front of me," he
hissed through lips tight with anger.

Regulus raised his chin and mouthed the slur, though no sound came out. Idly, Severus
wondered if Regulus would be embarrassed by this behaviour once he was no longer
Imperiused.

"I brought your medicine," said Severus, pulling the colourless potion from his robes. "Open
up."

Regulus clamped his mouth shut.

"Suit yourself. Petrificus Totalis."

Regulus went rigid as stone, and Severus poured the potion between Regulus' clenched teeth.
Regulus swallowed reluctantly, and at once his eyes grew wide as dinner plates.

"Come to your senses, have you?" said Severus, removing the Full Body-Bind Curse.

"Lily — I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I — oh, Merlin — I think I've been
Imperiused."

"Obviously," said Severus, no longer trying to match Lily's intonation. There were a few
drops left of the potion he had forced down Regulus' throat, so he dipped a finger into the
phial and scooped what remained into his own mouth. His bones stretched painfully, but the
discomfort was over in seconds; he ran a hand over his face, confirming that his visage was
his own once more.

Regulus stared at him, aghast. "You — you —" he spluttered. "Sev, were you impersonating
Lily Evans?"

"Slow on the uptake, as usual."

Regulus looked repulsed. "That's not right, Sev. I know you fancied her, but there are limits,
and —"

"Good Lord, Regulus. That's what you think this is about? Not even I am perverted enough to
derive pleasure from walking around in somebody else's skin. You can wipe that look of
astonishment from your face."

Regulus attempted, unsuccessfully, to compose his features. "What are you playing at, then?
And what was that potion you gave me, because I don't believe for a second that it was
medicine —"

"Universal Solvent," said Severus.

"I've never heard of that."

"Of course you haven't. I invented it."

"You — Universal…" Understanding dawned on Regulus' face. "You made an antidote to the
Imperius Curse?"

At least Severus didn't need to spell it out for him. "Not just the Imperius Curse. The potion
should be able to remove all manner of curses, jinxes, and Transfigurations. Hence its name."

Regulus took a moment to digest this information. "Thank you."

Severus' guts twisted sharply. The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable; it was as if he'd
eaten something that didn't agree with him. But that was impossible, since he'd skipped
dinner entirely. "Your gratitude is unnecessary. I did what needed to be done. Quickly, now,
before Madam Pomfrey catches us — what can you tell me about the person who Imperiused
you?"

"Not much," said Regulus. "It happened in January, nearly two months ago — I was on my
way to the dungeons after a prefect meeting. I didn't get a look at who it was, but the voice
sounded male."

"Well, that narrows it down to only half the castle," said Severus snidely. "Is there truly
nothing else you remember?"

Regulus shook his head. "Whoever it was stayed hidden. I wish I could tell you more."

Severus groaned. He had nothing to show for all the work he had done to lift the Imperius
Curse on Regulus and Avery. He might as well not have bothered.
He turned to leave. "Tell Madam Pomfrey that you broke the Imperius Curse the old-
fashioned way, through force of will. I imagine you understand why nobody else should learn
of the existence of Universal Solvent."

Regulus nodded. "You know, Bella might like to know about your latest invention. I expect
the Death Eaters could make use of it, if it works the way you say it does."

Severus pressed his nails into his palms. He hadn't even joined the Death Eaters yet, but he
was already tired of making up for their incompetence. "Write to her yourself, if you think it's
so useful."

Just then, the doors of the hospital wing flew open with a bang.

"That's my cue," said Severus, casting a Disillusionment Charm over himself. "I'll see you in
the dormitory after Madam Pomfrey decides to let you go. Shouldn't take longer than a day or
two."

"Alright," said Regulus. "Again, Severus, thank y—"

"Stop saying that," growled Severus. As he slipped out from behind the curtain, he thought he
saw a smile on Regulus' pinched face.

At the entrance to the hospital wing, Avery was doubled over and complaining loudly of a
bellyache. With Madam Pomfrey sufficiently distracted, Severus strode out the doors and into
the corridor.

For such a grand success, he felt surprisingly numb. He might have freed Avery and Regulus
from the Imperius Curse, but its caster had evaded him. And then there was the small matter
of the Time-Turner hidden beneath his robes; the tiny pendant seemed to weigh heavier
around his neck with each passing day.

Stop thinking about it, he told himself. He had no use for a Time-Turner which only went
back five hours. He'd need to go back years to correct the path he'd set himself on. It wasn't
worth considering.

And yet.

On the night before the Easter holidays, Remus gathered his belongings and a bit of courage.
It was time to have an honest conversation with Sirius.

He ventured to the Room of Requirement, but the place was empty. Sirius wasn't in the
Gryffindor common room, either, or the Heads' dormitory. After a half-hour of searching,
Remus ran into Peter on the seventh-floor landing.
"Are you all packed?" asked Peter, chewing on a nail. The plan was for the two of them to
spend the holidays at Remus' place, then Apparate to Walpurgis Abbey on the night of the
banquet.

Remus nodded. "Listen, Pete — you haven't seen Sirius anywhere, have you?"

"Er, yeah, I did." Peter chewed more vigorously on his thumb. "I think he went back to
London already."

It was a good thing Remus had spent weeks practising the restraint he would need to show at
Walpurgis Abbey, because he was barely able to keep an expression of abject shock from his
face. "Sirius left?" he asked in a measured voice.

Peter grimaced. "I think so. He went down to Hogsmeade half an hour ago, said he was going
to Apparate to London from there."

"But I —" I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to him. "I thought he'd stick around to
wish us well. Seeing as we're about to risk our necks sneaking around Death Eater
headquarters."

Remus kept his tone light, but Peter gave him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, Moony. He did say
goodbye to me before he left — said he hoped everything went alright."

Remus' chest tightened despite his practised self-control. This was all his fault. He'd rejected
Sirius again and again, and now he'd avoided speaking with Sirius for so long that he'd lost
his chance to do things differently. Sirius must have thought it wasn't worth waiting around
for another rejection from Remus. Why else would he go to London without saying good-
bye? Sirius was acting out of sheer self-preservation, and it was nothing if not
understandable.

But if Remus was going to get murdered by Death Eaters, he didn't want to die without
telling his best friend that he loved him. "I'll meet you at my place," he told Peter. "Bring my
trunk, will you? It's already packed, I left it in the dormitory."

"Where are you —"

Remus was already halfway down the staircase, which was quite a feat, considering the state
of his joints. "I've got to catch up to Sirius."

His pace had slowed considerably by the time he reached the Entrance Hall. His left femur
felt like it was coming out of its socket, but he limped determinedly onto the grounds of
Hogwarts.

A pragmatic voice in the back of his mind whispered that Sirius would be long gone by the
time he got to Hogsmeade, that he'd Disapparated ten minutes ago at least, but Remus refused
to listen. He clung to the hope that Sirius might have waited for him — perhaps he wanted to
see if Remus would come after him, after all.
Once Remus reached Hogsmeade, he realised that this had been a foolish thing to hope for. If
Sirius had ever waited for him, there was no sign of it. The streets were covered in melting
slush and muddy footprints left by passers-by; it was impossible to pick out Sirius' tracks
amongst the muck. Young tulips bloomed in planters outside the Three Broomsticks,
brightening the street with their colour. If Sirius had waited here, he wouldn't have been able
to resist the urge to shred their delicate petals.

He didn't wait for you, taunted the pragmatic voice in Remus' mind. You kept him waiting
long enough, and he finally moved on. He wants nothing to do with you.

That was probably true. But Remus was tired of the way he and Sirius danced around each
other. If Sirius had moved on, he needed to say it to Remus' face.

Remus turned on his heel before he could talk himself out of it. A moment later, he appeared
in Alphard Black's living room.

Sirius was sprawled on the sofa, looking like he had collapsed there as soon as he'd arrived at
the flat. At the loud crack signalling Remus' arrival, he sprang to his feet, wand drawn.
"Stupe —"

Remus stepped forward and curled a hand around Sirius' wand. "It's me."

"Moony?" Sirius lowered his wand, wary. "What're you — you're supposed to be with Peter
—"

"Peter can wait." Remus took another step forward; they were so close he could see flecks of
black in Sirius' granite eyes.

Sirius swallowed hard, but he didn't back away. "Why are you here, Moony?"

"I came because this might be the end. And if it is, you deserve a proper goodbye."

Sirius' breaths were shallow. "Is this how you say goodbye to all your mates, then?"

"Just you," whispered Remus. "Forgive me, Sirius, for taking so long." And before he could
lose his nerve, he pressed his mouth to Sirius' lips.

Sirius went as still as death. Remus pulled away, afraid he'd made an enormous
miscalculation, but before he could utter the apology that was already on his tongue, Sirius
lunged forward and pulled Remus' face roughly to meet his own. He kissed Remus hungrily,
gracelessly, as though it were the last kiss either of them would ever have. Remus could
barely breathe; he was drowning in Sirius' embrace, suffocating under the weight of his
yearning.

I have wanted this for so long. Remus must have said the words aloud, because Sirius
stopped kissing him long enough to mutter into his cheek, "I know."

Remus would have died of embarrassment, except Sirius was still kissing him, which made
him brave enough to tangle his hands in Sirius' long, silky hair. They were close, so close,
and they fit together perfectly. Of course they did — he should have known. He could have
kissed Sirius for a lifetime.

At last, Sirius folded Remus into his arms. He nuzzled his face against Remus' neck. "Don't
die at Walpurgis Abbey, Moony," he whispered. "Promise me you won't."

Remus' body was warm, alight with fervour and the heat of their mutual affection. He wanted
to whisper sweet nothings in reply, to reassure Sirius that of course he would be alright. But
that would have done them both a disservice. "You know I can't promise that."

"It's just words, Moony. Just say it — it doesn't have to be true."

"Would it make you feel better if I said it?"

"Of course."

Remus' resolve collapsed like a house of cards. He would say anything — do anything — to
make Sirius Black happy. "I'm not going to die at Walpurgis Abbey," he said, and Sirius
hummed in satisfaction. "I promise."

James was not enjoying the Easter holidays as much as he thought he would. It was
wonderful to spend a week being doted on by his parents, but as the days wore on, he began
to grow restless. Playing Quidditch in the back garden didn't exhaust him like it usually did;
to make up for it, he took to running for miles, until the rhythmic pounding of his feet
drowned out all other thoughts in his mind. Every evening, he came home sweaty and loose-
limbed from exhaustion, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to fall
asleep at night.

Even as the anxious days and sleepless nights wore on, he was careful not to let slip to his
parents that anything was amiss. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were fully recovered from
their bout with dragon pox the previous year, but he was determined not to do anything that
might upset the delicate balance of their health. The Healer at St Mungo's had said that their
dragon pox would come back eventually, and James didn't want them to worry themselves
into a relapse over him.

He didn't think he could put into words what was wrong with him, anyway. He couldn't sit
still for even a minute, yet he felt utterly exhausted at the same time. It occurred to him that
he might be ill with some rare disease, and he resolved to ask Lily about his symptoms once
he returned to Hogwarts.

Sunday was James' birthday, which came as a genuine surprise; when his mother kissed him
during breakfast and wished him a happy birthday, he simply stared at her, trying to figure
out if she was joking. Somehow he'd forgotten about it completely.
I really might be ill, he thought. He did his best to laugh off his momentary confusion, telling
jokes and grinning toothily until the worried line between his mother's brow relaxed.

That afternoon, Sirius Apparated onto their doorstep so quietly that James didn't hear him
arrive. It was only when Lottie, their house-elf, stopped filling the sweet dumplings she was
making and scurried to the door that he realised Sirius was there.

"Padfoot!" exclaimed James, flinging the door wide open.

A corner of Sirius' mouth lifted. "Happy birthday, Prongs."

James slung an arm around Sirius and ushered him inside. "How are you?"

"Terrible," said Sirius, who looked nearly as awful as James felt. His black hair hung lank
around his face, and the skin under his eyes looked bruised.

"Me, too." It occurred to James that perhaps they had both been afflicted with the same
disease. "You haven't had trouble sleeping recently, have you?"

"I — yeah, of course I have," admitted Sirius. "I mean, Remus and Pete are going to
Walpurgis Abbey tonight. Hard not to dread something like that."

James blinked. It was an odd coincidence that he'd come down with an illness at the same
time that two of his best mates were putting their lives in danger. Could the two things be
related? Was it possible that troubles of the mind had made him physically ill? He made a
mental note to ask Lily if she'd ever heard of such a thing. "I think… I think I've been sick
with worry," he said.

"That makes two of us," said Sirius, rubbing his brow. "But we can talk later. Is your mum in
the kitchen? Whatever she's making smells amazing…"

Two hours later, James' stomach was full of vindaloo and sweet dumplings. Across the table,
Sirius looked considerably less peaky, having eaten almost all the ambot tik by himself.

"Well, we're off to play Quidditch," said James. "Want to join, Dad?"

His father smiled and shook his head. "I'll watch you boys from the living room."

"That means he's going to take a nap," James whispered to Sirius as they went outside.

Sirius picked up one of the broomsticks that leaned against the back wall of the cottage.
"Good. Makes it less likely he'll overhear us. I assume we're not actually going to play
Quidditch?"

"Nah. But we can pretend." James mounted his broomstick and pushed off against the
ground, shooting into the sky. "Have you heard from Remus, then?"

Sirius nearly dropped the Quaffle he was holding. "Er, yeah. I have, actually."

"How is he? Ready for his dinner at the Abbey?"

"Er, I'm not sure." Sirius tossed the Quaffle to James. "We didn't talk about that."

"Really? That's all I'd be able to talk about, if it was me."

"Yeah, well." Sirius seemed to be having trouble speaking and flying his broomstick at the
same time. "We had, er, other matters to discuss."

James recalled the conversation he'd overheard between Remus and Sirius the previous
summer. I'd take you to Hogsmeade, Sirius had said. "Other matters, eh?"

"Yeah." Sirius wheeled on his broomstick to face James. He was breathing quickly, and his
grey eyes were wide and apprehensive. "Er, d'you remember why I named my motorbike
Elvendork?"

"'Course I do. It's unisex!"

Sirius smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. It can be a girl or a boy's name, right,
depending on the situation. Because I — because both are fine to me." He took a deep breath.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

James slowed, hovering in the air. "Yeah. I do."

"Yeah? And what do you think?"

James tucked the Quaffle under his arm, since they weren't even pretending to play anymore.
"I think you're my best mate and a brother to me, and you always will be. No matter what."

Sirius continued to look solemn, as though James' response hadn't reassured him in the least.
"Remus kissed me."

"What?"

"Yeah. He came round to Alphard's place — to my place — and we snogged. And then he
left."

James' brain was full of a million thoughts, and he couldn't pick which one to voice. "Remus
snogged you?" he said at last. "Not the other way around?"

"Mental, isn't it?" Sirius laughed shakily. "So I guess we're — we're together now. Though it
might not be for long if he dies at Walpurgis Abbey tonight."

"He's not going to die at Walpurgis Abbey," said James firmly. "Look, Sirius. If you and
Remus make each other happy, then nothing else matters."

Sirius smiled at last, a toothy, relieved grin. "He does make me happy. So happy. But Prongs
— and don't take this the wrong way — how do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How do you believe that everything will work out in the end?"
"Er," said James, "because it's true? If you and Moony are in love, then fuck what everyone
else thinks — not that anybody apart from the old pure-bloods will care. Just stick together,
and everything will turn out alright."

Sirius shook his head. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight aren't what I'm worried about. And I didn't
say we were in love."

"Aren't you, though?"

"Are you and Lily?"

That stopped James short. He pushed down on the handle of his broomstick, landing on the
grass. "Er, maybe. I'm not sure. We haven't said it yet."

"What's keeping you?"

"I dunno." James sat cross-legged on the ground, and Sirius joined him, so that they were
shoulder-to-shoulder. "The time isn't right, I guess. It's too soon."

"This is exactly what I mean, Prongs. You're taking things slow with her, as though things
were normal. You're acting like you've got all the time in the world. Haven't you thought
about the timeline?"

"What timeline?"

"The war." Sirius sounded as though it were obvious.

"What about the war?"

"Christ, Prongs, you haven't thought about it at all? No wonder you still believe the whole
love-conquers-all rubbish."

"It isn't rubbish," said James defensively, but Sirius only shrugged.

"What happens to you and Lily after Hogwarts, then?"

"We're going to keep seeing each other, if that's what you mean."

Sirius sighed in frustration. "But think deeper about it, Prongs. What will your lives look
like? Fuck, even I've thought about how things will be between me and Remus, and the fact
that you haven't…"

"What's there to think about? She'll continue her Healer training at St Mungo's, of course. I'll
probably get recruited to Puddlemere United — my dad is friends with the manager, they've
known each other ages. If things keep going well, we'll get engaged at some point, you'll be
my best man, and then we'll get married."

Sirius' mouth was agape. After a few seconds, he closed his jaw. "St Mungo's might not
accept her."
"Bollocks. Of course they will. She's brilliant, how can they not —"

"They're considering a policy to prevent Muggle-borns from becoming Healers. For the
safety of the hospital, you know. It's less of a target for the Death Eaters, that way."

"That —" That had to be illegal. "Why haven't I heard about that?"

"It's been in the Prophet."

"Since when do you read the paper?"

"Since I realised that what happens during the war directly impacts the man I care about. The
war is being fought over people like him. And people like Lily." Sirius tore great handfuls of
grass from the ground and tossed the clods of dirt across the garden. "You and I can join
fucking Puddlemere United if we want. It's all the same to us, isn't it? But Remus and Lily
haven't got that luxury. Which means we either move on without them, or we fight."

The more Sirius spoke, the more James realised he was right. Truthfully, he hadn't thought
overmuch about spending his life with Lily, but he'd assumed they would follow the same
beats his parents had. Engagement after Hogwarts, steady jobs, marriage, a house of their
own and, eventually, a baby. There was no war in his imagined future with her, no
discrimination or strife.

But that was all a fantasy. "You're saying that either I break up with her so I can be normal, or
I join the Order and fight for her? There's no other way?"

He hoped that Sirius would relent, but Sirius said, "It's one or the other, Prongs. We can't
have both."

The idyllic future that James pictured for himself and Lily crumbled into dust. "Alright," he
said, and he joined Sirius in tearing up the grass. "I suppose I'll join the Order, then. What're
you going to do? Dump Remus on his arse and piddle around London while the rest of
Britain burns?"

Sirius barked a laugh and shoved James with his shoulder. "Yeah, that's my backup plan if he
doesn't get killed tonight. I think I'd look fit as a widower, don't you?"

"That's out of order," said James, but he was laughing, too.

"Did you know," said Sirius after a minute, "that Walpurgis Abbey is just east of Salisbury?"

"It is?"

"Yeah." Sirius pointed his wand at the upturned dirt around them, and new shoots of grass
erupted from the ground. "The way I see it, we can either mope around here until we get
word that Remus and Pete are alive, or…"

"We keep watch outside the Abbey to make sure things go alright? And storm in, wands
drawn, if there's trouble?"
 Sirius grinned. "You read my mind."

James sprang to his feet. "I'll make us a Portkey."

Chapter End Notes

10 chapters left in The Mapmakers, can you believe it?? Hold on to your hats, cause
things are about get crazy........

Fun fact, in this fic, the Potters have been in England for generations but are originally
from Goa, a state in India with a large Christian population and former Portuguese
colony. So James has a Christian first name and the Potters celebrate Christian holidays.
(side note, religion in Harry Potter is such a fascinating topic, and one The Mapmakers
doesn't really get into, but it's so interesting to think about!)

Thanks for reading!

 Dining with Death Eaters
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Later that evening, Remus placed Wormtail into his pocket, told his father he was spending
the night at Peter's, and Apparated a hundred miles southeast, to a little Muggle hamlet in
Wiltshire.

The village was nestled among sloping, verdant hills; warm lights flickered in cottage
windows as villagers celebrated a quiet Easter with family. In the distance, one hill rose
above the rest, like the back of a great green dragon. Atop its gentle crest was a beautiful,
three-storied castle with honey-coloured walls that gleamed in the thin rays of sunset. Remus
had expected Walpurgis Abbey to look frightening, like Grimmauld Place writ large, but the
castle in the distance looked like the seat of royalty.

Beautiful things can be dangerous, thought Remus. He wanted nothing more than to turn on
his heel and march away from the breathtaking abbey, but he had no illusions about what
would happen if he did. He forced himself to breathe slowly as he took his first steps down
the gravel road that led to the abbey.

After ten minutes of walking, the cottages on either side of the road were growing further
apart, interspersed by thin trees and thorny, yellow-flowered gorse. The path was getting
steeper. Remus paused to catch his breath, placing a hand on the low stone wall that ran
parallel to the road.

Something rustled in his pocket, and Wormtail jumped onto the wall with a squeak. The
sandy rat turned towards the castle in the distance, nose twitching.

"Grand, isn't it?" said Remus. "Not what I expected, to be honest."

The rat's head bobbed in agreement.

Now that they had stopped, it was difficult for Remus to start moving again. "We should be
off," he said before his resolve could waver.

The rat chittered in protest.

"Oh, that's right." Remus pointed his wand at Wormtail and cast a Disillusionment Spell.
"You're lucky. Wish I could Disillusion myself as well, but that would defeat the point,
wouldn't it?"

The rat let out a sympathetic squeak.

As they continued up the path, the low stone wall melted into wild brambles, which gave way
to dense forest. After another mile of walking, the forest ended abruptly, replaced by
immaculately-trimmed hedges surrounding stately gardens. The path was no longer gravel,
but smooth cobblestone, the same honey colour as the abbey.

Finally, Remus reached a wrought iron gate, strikingly similar to the one that surrounded
Hogwarts. Instead of being flanked by winged boars, however, this gate was guarded by a
statue of a massive, sleeping basilisk, draped across the top like a python over a tree branch.

There were two guards at the gate, one on either side of the path. Their faces were covered by
intricate silver masks, and they wore black dragon-hide beneath silken, ebony capes. Remus
didn't need to see their expressions to know that they were capable of murdering him without
lifting a finger.

As he approached, there was a low, grinding sound. The stone basilisk atop the gate was
moving. Its enormous head turned towards Remus, and he looked at his feet just before the
basilisk's eyes flicked open.

"What businesssss?" hissed the basilisk in a deep, many-voiced whisper.

Remus kept his eyes on his shoes. "I am Remus Lupin, student and werewolf, here as the
Dark Lord's guest."

Hot air from the basilisk's stone mouth rushed over his face. "Enter," it rumbled. As it drew
back, the gate swung open.

Remus glanced at the guards, but neither moved. He could feel the basilisk's gaze upon him,
though he didn't dare look up. Under the basilisk's watchful eyes, he crossed the threshold of
the gate and entered the grounds of Walpurgis Abbey.

He breathed evenly and steadily as he wound his way through the gardens, approaching the
abbey's entrance. He counted thirteen more guards along the way, all wearing the same silver
masks and black leather. Some were tucked into shadowed corners, while others patrolled
round melodious fountains and flawless topiaries. And that's just the front of the abbey, he
thought.

Two more Death Eaters flanked the abbey's wooden doors, and beside them were two huge
beasts. The creatures had the head of a lion, but there were hooves where their paws should
be, and their tails were scaly, with barbs at the tip. Somehow the Death Eaters had managed
to subdue two Chimaeras to guard the doors of Walpurgis Abbey; the beasts weren't even
leashed, that Remus could see. He had the unpleasant thought that perhaps their stomachs
were kept very full, and he didn't want to think about what sort of meat the Death Eaters
might use.

The Chimaera on the right yawned as Remus approached. To Remus' relief, he didn't have to
answer any questions here: the wooden doors rumbled open before he or the guards could say
a word.

Remus had known the interior of the abbey would be lavish, but nothing could have prepared
him for stepping inside. The entrance hall was narrow with a high ceiling, and the ivory walls
were covered with gold filigree. The main hall was even more dazzling: the marble floor
shone with polished perfection, and gilded paintings and intricate tapestries covered every
inch of the walls. Brilliant chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, illuminating the abbey
with bright, glittering light.

The effect was dizzying. Remus had never seen such opulence before; these were the spoils
of a society he was never supposed to enter. Yet beneath all the glamour, there was something
about the main hall that reminded him of Hogwarts.

It's the layout, he realised belatedly. At the far end of the hall was a wide marble staircase
leading to the first floor, and on either side of the stairs was a set of doors, exactly like the
doors to the dungeons and kitchens at Hogwarts. There was even a door to the dining hall on
the right.

Remus glanced upwards. Watching him from the balcony on the first floor was an array of
Death Eaters, all in silver masks and as still as death. Despite the silent menace above, the
abbey itself wasn't quiet; laughter and boisterous voices floated from the dining hall.

"Beautiful, no?" said a sultry, accented voice behind him. "Ze Dark Lord 'as good taste."

Remus turned to see a group of gorgeous, silver-haired women draped in luxurious silks that
left very little to the imagination. Veela, he thought. For the first time in his life, he was very
glad he was queer.

"Are you here for the banquet?" he asked politely.

One of the women nodded. Light from the chandeliers sparkled in her silver hair. "We 'ave
come all ze way from France. I think it was worth the trip, non?"

Another shrugged, and a silken strap slipped off her shoulder. "Let us 'ope they put as much
thought into the food as they 'ave the decor of zis place."

Remus trailed the Veela into the dining hall. Here, too, the resemblance to Hogwarts was
undeniable. The ceiling was enchanted to show fluffy, purple-and-orange clouds lit by the last
rays of sunset, and there was a high table much like the staff table at Hogwarts. At the centre
of this table, however, was a high-backed, golden chair encrusted with jewels. For all
Dumbledore's flair, Remus couldn't picture the headmaster sitting on such a throne.

The other tables were different, as well. Instead of four long tables, one for each House,
many smaller, round tables filled the hall. All sorts of beings sat at these tables: hags jostled
each other with pointed elbows, centaurs stood at a tall table, and there was even a pair of
giants in the back.

Sanguini must be here, thought Remus. He craned his neck and spotted a cluster of pale
individuals in high-collared black robes. From this distance, he couldn't pick out which
vampire was Sanguini, nor did he want to. He hastened after the Veela before the vampires
could notice him.

The Veela took a seat at an empty table, but there weren't enough chairs for Remus to sit, as
well. One of them gave him a pitying look. "Are you lost, little boy? You 'ave to sit with your
kind."

"My…?" Remus realised with a start that the tables were segregated by species. He would be
expected to sit at the werewolf table, wherever that was.

I can't, he thought wildly. I can't. But I've got no choice.

He wandered about the tables, hoping to stumble upon wherever the werewolves were sitting.
How would he even recognise them? Process of elimination?

He'd made two laps of the dining hall when a hand tugged at the sleeve of his robes.
"Looking for a place to sit?" asked a woman. She was perhaps ten years older than him, and
she looked like she had been invited in from the street. Her long, matted brown hair framed a
bony face aged by weather and malnutrition.

Remus didn't know how he knew, but he was certain she was a werewolf. Something about
her was like looking into a mirror.

The woman patted the chair beside her. "Sit down, why don'cha?"

He sat, and the woman stuck out a hand. "Scarlett," she said. Her smile was missing several
teeth.

"Remus Lupin."

She laughed, a one-syllable burst of air that rivalled Sirius'. "No need for false names here,
boy."

He should have known that his name would seem a joke to his fellow Dark creatures.
"Unfortunately, it's not a pseudonym," he said lightly, glancing at the others at the table. Four
thin, haggard men were staring flatly at him. They seemed to be debating whether he was
worth devouring on the spot.

"You look nice," commented Scarlett. "Spend a lot of time around wizards, do you?"

"A bit," admitted Remus, not wanting to sound like he was bragging.

Scarlett shrugged, unbothered. "Well, you're young yet. That'll change."

"He isn't that young," rasped one of the others, eyeing Remus critically. "Must be fifteen,
sixteen at least."

"Seventeen," corrected Remus.

"There you have it," said the werewolf with the raspy voice triumphantly. "He's of age, and
he still passes. What's your secret, Remus Lupin?"

Remus began to feel very foolish for having worn his best dress robes to the Dark Lord's
banquet. He should have picked something more threadbare to blend in, even if he had to
damage the robes himself. Of course most werewolves didn't look the way he did; they hadn't
been afforded the same opportunities he had.

"I'm at Hogwarts, actually," he said, and several of the werewolves sucked in sharp, jealous
intakes of breath. "It's my last year there. I expect my luck will run out shortly," he added
with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"That's right," said Scarlett, licking her lips hungrily. "I heard Dumbledore had accepted a
wolf pup. First of our kind to attend, aren't you? What I would have given…"

Remus blinked. As far as he was aware, his lycanthropy was a secret kept between himself,
Dumbledore, and a handful of others. None of whom made a habit of rubbing elbows with
werewolves. "You've heard of me? How?"

Scarlett jerked her chin at one of the men at the table. "Fenrir said one of his own was
enrolled at Hogwarts. 'Course, I thought he was talking out of his arse, but now…"

The man smiled. All his teeth were pointed. "I would never lie to you, Scarlett." He inclined
his head towards Remus. "We meet again, Lupin."

Remus couldn't breathe. Growing up, he had thought of Fenrir Greyback often, but in his
mind, Greyback had always been a monster. A bogeyman who had climbed through the
window of Remus' childhood bedroom to sink his fangs into Remus' shoulder. Greyback had
done it on purpose, stalking him like a beast of the night, striking when Remus was unaware.

Remus had always imagined Greyback would look completely feral, more monster than man.
But the Greyback in front of him was no larger than the other werewolves, and no healthier.
His hair was tangled and dirty, and his bones jutted from his limbs like they were trying to
break the skin.

This man had bitten him. This man was the reason he suffered. Remus rose unsteadily from
his chair. "I need to use the toilet," he heard himself say, as if from a very great distance.

"Take a right out the hall, down the stairs, and it's the first door on your left," replied Scarlett,
though Remus was already pitching towards the doors of the dining hall. He couldn't breathe,
couldn't think; his body felt oddly light, as though he were floating away.

He stumbled into the main hall and made for the door that led to the kitchens. No, that's
Hogwarts, he corrected himself. You're at Walpurgis Abbey. Remember?

The thought stirred something inside him, cutting through the fog in his mind. He was at
Walpurgis Abbey. He had a job to do.

Breathe, he commanded himself, and he counted the seconds it took to fill his lungs. In. Out.
Repeat.

His heart was still pounding, but at least he could think again. Without breaking his stride or
glancing at the Death Eaters on the landing above, he curled his wrist to touch the wand
tucked into his sleeve. His shoelace came untied, pulled apart by silent magic, and he knelt to
retie it.

As soon as his knee brushed the golden starbursts on the marble floor, his pocket grew
marginally lighter. He neither saw nor heard Wormtail leave, Disillusioned as the rat was, but
he knew that Peter was scurrying towards the grand staircase, headed to the upper floors to
fulfil his part of the mission.

Remus allowed himself another long breath while kneeling, then stood with a small groan.
All their effort would be for nought if he didn't pull himself together. He and Peter needed to
get the layout of Walpurgis Abbey if the Marauders were to have any hope of stealing the
diadem. He made a beeline to the door near the marble staircase and hastened down the
stairs.

It was clear that this floor, at least, had not been fashioned after Hogwarts. Instead of a single
corridor leading to the kitchens, the basement of Walpurgis Abbey branched in four different
directions. A single, masked Death Eater stood at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face
Remus as he descended.

"Toilet's that way," grunted the Death Eater before Remus could get a word out, jerking a
thumb at the corridor on the left.

Remus inclined his head and hurried down the corridor. As soon as he was out of sight of the
Death Eater, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and wrapped it around himself,
then cast a Silencing Charm on his feet. If nobody could see or hear him, he wouldn't get
murdered. Hopefully.

Once he reached the lavatory, he opened the door and tossed a Dungbomb inside, then shut it
loudly. That should do if the guard at the base of the stairs began to wonder why he was
taking so long and came sniffing around.

It was odd, though, that the basement was so unguarded. Why would there be dozens of
Death Eaters surveying the ground floor, yet only one in the basement?

The answer came to him in a flash. The staircase he'd just descended must be the only way in
or out of the basement. The Death Eaters upstairs were doing double duty: they were
guarding the ground floor and the basement. Their positioning on the first floor of the abbey
meant that the upper floors were well-protected, too. Hopefully Peter had slipped by without
any trouble.

Perhaps it was a good thing that the basement was relatively unprotected, he considered as he
tiptoed to the end of the corridor. When the Marauders came back to steal the diadem, they
wouldn't have to try quite as hard to hide on this floor. Of course, it was possible the
basement was unguarded because there was nothing valuable tucked away in its four
corridors. That was most likely, in fact.

Still worth a look, though, thought Remus as he reached the end of the corridor. Before him
was a large door outfitted with two doorknobs: one where he expected a doorknob to be, and
one at knee height. He crept closer, wand in hand, and began to silently Transfigure the
smooth wood of the door into glass. Once he had created a tiny peephole, he pressed his
cheek to the door and peered inside.

At first, he thought he was looking at some sort of assembly line. Hundreds of house-elves
were clustered elbow-to-elbow at long tables, preparing enormous quantities of food. The
various ingredients — raw chickens, peeled potatoes, diced vegetables, even bread dough —
moved autonomously down the tables, as though pulled by an invisible conveyor belt.

Unlike the food, the house-elves didn't move. They stayed rooted to the spot, wearing
expressions of fear and exhaustion as they prepared the ingredients in front of them. At the
ends of the assembly lines, dozens of house-elves shovelled meat into an enormous furnace,
packaged bread rolls into wicker baskets, and pushed vegetables into a cauldron large enough
to hold ten men.

Interspersed at regular intervals were goblins wearing pointed black hats and carrying
clipboards. The goblins directed the house-elves — and occasionally whacked them with
sticks — as they worked.

Ruthless, thought Remus, but efficient. The resemblance to Muggle factories was strong. But
surely Lord Voldemort hadn't taken inspiration from Muggles. Or had he?

It stretched credulity to think that the diadem was hidden among carving knives and cutting
boards, so Remus Untransfigured the peephole he had created and returned the way he came.
The Dungbomb in the lavatory was doing an exquisite job; the Death Eater by the stairs was
holding the corner of his cape over his nose as Remus sneaked by.

The next two corridors were a bust. One contained a servant's hall and sleeping quarters for
the house-elves, and the only rooms of interest in the other were a pantry, a Potions
workroom, and an empty storage room.

Remus hoped that Peter was having more luck than he was. By the look of things, there was
no way the diadem was hidden in the basement, but he crept down the last corridor anyway.
Better to be thorough, he thought. This corridor was longer than the rest and lined with many
reinforced wooden doors, all locked with intricate clockwork mechanisms.

These are vaults, he realised as he inspected the cogs of the door on his left. They were
similar to the bank vault doors at Gringotts, and the air was so thick with protective
enchantments that he knew Transfiguring a peephole wouldn't work in this corridor. A coat of
arms above the door he was examining caught his eye; two crows squabbled over a crown.
Yaxley, read the golden plaque beneath the coat of arms.

Remus turned to the door across the corridor from the Yaxley vault. That door's crest depicted
a weasel holding a sceptre, and the plaque bore the name Weasley. A quick tally of the
remaining vaults confirmed his suspicions; fourteen pairs of sealed doors stretched down the
corridor, one for each family in the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Time to go back, thought Remus. There was no need to explore farther; even if the diadem
was in one of the vaults, he had no way of figuring out which one might contain it. But he
was morbidly curious about a certain vault he hadn't seen yet.
Silently, he continued down the corridor, even as every hair on his skin stood on end,
screaming at him to get out. His feet carried him to the second-to-last vault on the left, which
bore a crest that read Toujours Pur. The coat of arms was flanked by hounds, their paws
touching silver stars. Black, said the plaque below.

Remus remembered the attack on Gringotts in January, and what Sirius had said then. Sirius
had been adamant that the attack was an excuse for the Blacks and Malfoys to move their
gold someplace friendlier to the Dark Lord. Well, the Blacks had certainly done that, if this
vault was any indication.

Someone was coming. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Remus instinctively flattened
himself against the stone wall, as though he could melt into it if he only tried hard enough.

A tall woman with dark, wild curls strode towards him, talking to a goblin. She wore no
mask, and though it had been years since Remus had last seen Bellatrix Black, he recognised
her at once.

"…took you long enough," Bellatrix was saying to the goblin. "Make me wait again, and
you'll regret it. There's a room on the second floor that needs decorating — a bust of your
head would be a nice touch…"

"My apologies," said the goblin in a clipped tone. "The house-elves —"

"No excuses, or I will have your head."

The goblin nodded stiffly. If he was upset with such treatment, he didn't show it. His manner
remained business-like as he asked, "What is it that my lady seeks to withdraw tonight?"

"Three hundred Galleons, and the skull of a leprechaun," said Bella. "The Dark Lord believes
we will have the Gorgons' allegiance if we offer them housing in a well-populated Muggle
area. He wants me to see about a flat in Manchester."

"It shall be done," replied the goblin.

Remus held his breath as they approached, although he was certain Bellatrix could neither see
nor hear him. He was less sure about the goblin. It was possible goblins had some type of
clairvoyant magic that he didn't know about; he hadn't thought to research them before
coming to the abbey.

If the business-like goblin noticed Remus, he gave no sign of it. He and Bellatrix reached the
Black family vault, and the goblin stroked the door. With a harsh, metallic clatter, the
clockwork mechanisms began to turn, and a keyhole appeared in the door.

"Your key," said the goblin. Bellatrix withdrew a long, golden key from her robes. She
inserted it into the lock, and the door rumbled open.

They strode inside, and though Bellatrix was tall, even she couldn't block Remus' view of the
Black family fortune. A mountain of gold twice Bellatrix's height and three times as wide
stretched towards the ceiling, surrounded by similar piles of silver and bronze. The recesses
in the cave-like vault were crammed with artefacts: handsome golden plates, jewel-encrusted
swords, and sparkling heaps of fist-sized gemstones piled carelessly on top of one another.

Remus had known the Blacks were wealthy, but he couldn't have imagined by how much.
Any one of the artefacts in the vault would have paid enough to put him through Hogwarts,
with Galleons to spare. And all these dazzling, grotesque riches were in the hands of Lord
Voldemort.

Bellatrix scooped a few handfuls of gold into a leather pouch, then plucked a tiny skull with
Galleons in the eye sockets off a shelf. She and the goblin exited the vault, and the door
swung shut with a thud. Immediately, the clockwork cogs began to turn, sealing the vault
once more.

Remus watched Bellatrix and the goblin go, his heart pounding in time with the shuddering
cogs. When he was quite certain they had left the basement, he hurried back to the lavatory,
removed the Cloak, and headed back up the stairs, nodding to the guard as he went.

"There you are," said Scarlett as he slid back into his seat. "Thought you'd gotten lost."

Remus ducked his head sheepishly. "Must have eaten something that didn't agree with me."

"Maybe it's for the best you missed half the feast, then," said Scarlett. "Fenrir nearly ate your
steak, but I told him you'd want it, look…"

Remus glanced at his plate. Staring up at him was a large slab of raw meat in a puddle of
bloody juices. "That was very thoughtful of you," he said, forcing himself to take a bite. The
meat was slimy and chewy, and he was only able to swallow it with the help of wine.

The other werewolves watched him with amusement. Their own plates were empty; most had
even slurped up the juices. Across the table, Greyback laughed.

Remus looked Greyback in the eye and smiled blandly, though it took all his willpower to do
so. Here was the creature who had ruined Remus' happy childhood until there was nothing
left but pain and fear. Greyback didn't deserve pleasantries; he deserved to hurt the way he'd
hurt Remus.

"He doesn't like it," rasped Greyback, amused. "They don't let you partake of flesh at
Hogwarts, do they, pup?"

Pup. Remus wanted to drive his wand through Greyback's eye and into his skull. He kept his
shoulders loose and his expression calm as he replied, "They do not, I'm afraid."

"Well, eat up," said Scarlett with a crooked, toothless grin. "Now's your chance to get a taste
of what you're missing."

Remus eyed the glistening meat on his plate. Flesh, Greyback had called it. Remus really
hoped that was just another term for steak.

Three slow forkfuls of flesh later, Scarlett nudged him. "Someone's about to make a speech,"
she said, gesturing to the high table at the end of the dining hall.
At the table, a powerfully-built man in his sixties with sleek grey hair rose and looked
expectantly about the room. Like Bellatrix, he wore no mask; perhaps he had thrown his lot
in with Lord Voldemort so thoroughly that there was no need for pretence.

"Thank you all for coming," boomed the Death Eater. His voice filled the corners of the hall.
"I am Corvus Lestrange, servant and soldier of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Dark
Lord is pleased that you have responded to his invitation to dine with us tonight. We hope
this is the start of a long and fruitful relationship between the Dark Lord and those the
wizarding world has cast aside."

A few creatures at the other tables made noises of assent; Scarlett nodded, looking satisfied.

"Tonight's meal has been but a foretaste of the riches the Dark Lord can offer you," continued
Lestrange. "Join our cause, and you shall have more than a seat at the table. You shall have
power over wizards and Muggles alike, and the freedom to live openly. Your every need shall
be fulfilled, and you shall no longer cower before the likes of the Ministry. Fight for us, and
you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams."

He sat down to a chorus of applause. Thunderclaps rolled through the hall as the giants
smacked their palms together, and a few of the centaurs rose on their hind legs, whinnying
their approval. Remus clapped enthusiastically, though he noticed that a few of his werewolf
compatriots looked sceptical.

"That was a good speech," said Scarlett with an appreciative look at Lestrange. "Merlin help
me, but I believe him."

The werewolf next to Greyback shrugged. "We will see," he said in a coarse accent. "Words
are only words. I want to see action."

"The Dark Lord's already done more for us than the Ministry has," retorted Scarlett. "Has the
Minister for Magic ever invited you to a banquet? I didn't think so."

"The Minister spits on our kind," growled Greyback. "At least the Dark Lord is promising
change, eh? Unlike the Ministry… they'd sooner hunt us like animals than accept us into
society. They think we're evil, soulless… isn't that right, pup?"

It was a dig at Remus' father, who years ago had added Greyback to the Werewolf Registry
and made several regrettable remarks about werewolves in the process. Remus itched to
defend his father; he wanted to rip Greyback's throat out with his bare hands. But nothing
could have been more dangerous.

One day, I am going to murder you, thought Remus at Greyback. Until then, I will lie to you,
and you will believe it.

Out loud, Remus said, "I am aware of the comments that wizards make about us, having been
on the receiving end of them, myself."

Greyback lifted a mangy eyebrow. "Have you, now? Pity. Lyall Lupin's prejudice extends to
his own son, does it?"
 "Unfortunately." lied Remus. "You were right about him."

Greyback nodded sagely. "Good judge of character, I am. Well, let it not be said that I don't
look after my own…" He slid a small rectangle of parchment across the table.

Remus picked up the card, wary. It was embossed with gold around the edges, and in the top
corner was a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.

You are cordially invited to the Knight's Masquerade, said the card. To be held at eight
o'clock on Walpurgis Night. Please come dressed for the occasion.

"What is this?" he asked Greyback. "An invitation?"

Greyback looked pleased. "Walpurgis Night is the abbey's biggest celebration of the year.
You'll be able to hobnob with some very important people… Death Eaters from the inner
circle, of course, but also higher-ups at the Ministry, representatives from each of the Sacred
Twenty-Eight… and yours truly," he added with false modesty.

Scarlett was staring hungrily at the square of parchment in Remus' hands. "Got any more of
those invitations?"

"Just the one," said Greyback smoothly. "But not to worry, Scarlett, your time will come…"

When the banquet was over, Remus followed the crowd of non-humans into the narrow
entrance hall and out the door, onto the abbey's luscious grounds. The cool night air rushed
into his lungs, invigorating him as he sailed unaccosted past the sleeping Chimaeras. When
he was near the abbey's wrought iron gate, he paused by a fountain and spent several minutes
pretending to tie his shoe. At last, a familiar weight settled into his pocket.

The relief that flooded over him was intoxicating. "Hello, Wormtail," he whispered fondly,
and he thought he heard a little squeak in reply. "Let's go home, shall we?"

Chapter End Notes

Quick clarifying note, in case anyone is confused: Walpurgis Abbey, like Hogwarts, uses
the British/European convention of calling the main floor the 'ground floor', and the
floor above it the 'first floor'. This is in contrast to American convention where the main
floor of a building is called the 'first floor'. So the abbey has 4 stories total: basement,
ground, 1st, and 2nd floor. Hope this helps anyone who might have been confused while
reading, I tried to make it clear!
 Sirius Black's Secret
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The following Tuesday was the first day of spring term, and as soon as the day's lessons were
over, the Marauders and Lily gathered in the Room of Requirement so that Remus and Peter
could fill them in on all that had happened.

"I knew you'd make it out alright," said Sirius for the hundredth time. He had one arm draped
across Remus' shoulders and showed no sign of letting go, which suited Remus just fine.

"Why did you and James decide to show up in the village, then?" said Remus wryly. "Peter
and I were perfectly capable of Apparating ourselves home, you know. We didn't need you to
Side-Along us…"

"We were there for moral support," said Sirius without missing a beat. "You were happy to
see us, weren't you?"

"Very," admitted Remus. Running into Sirius and James in the little hamlet in the valley had
buoyed his spirits like no other. They'd spent the rest of the evening at James' place,
celebrating Remus and Peter's success by getting properly trashed and nursing a hangover for
most of Easter Monday.

"The abbey was horrible," said Peter. "There were loads of Death Eaters everywhere, ready to
murder us on the spot. I'm glad my mum got me that rabbit's foot for Christmas — if I didn't
have that extra luck…" He shuddered. "If we die in our Animagus forms, do you think we
revert back to humans? Or would I be a rat forever?"

"You're cheerful as always, Wormtail," said Sirius. "I hope you didn't risk your neck for
nothing — did you at least find where the diadem's being kept?"

"I, er…" Peter shrank beneath the weight of everyone's gaze. "Yeah," he said in a small voice.
"I did."

"What are you waiting for?" said James with a grin. "Show us!" He gestured towards the
stone basin in the centre of the room. Remus had no idea what the basin was, but both Sirius
and James had seemed to recognise it at once, so he hadn't wanted to ask.

Peter looked just as lost as Remus was. "Show you… the diadem?"

"Your memory." Sirius tapped his wand against his temple. "Pull it out and we'll have a look,
it's easy enough to do…"

Peter imitated Sirius, looking nervous. After a moment, a silvery, gossamer substance leaked
from his skin, like liquid silk; Peter caught it with his wand and deposited it into the basin.
The basin filled with shimmering liquid, steam rising from the surface of the memory.
Remus caught Lily's eye, and they exchanged incredulous looks. Peering into another
person's memory… he hadn't thought it was possible.

Sirius dropped his arm from Remus' shoulder, to Remus' great disappointment. "Ladies first,"
he said, gesturing to Lily.

She bit her lip, then leaned forward to get a better look at the memory filling the basin.

"Not like that," said Sirius. "It's a Pensieve. You have to put your face in it."

"Yeah," said James. "Like this." And he put his hands on either side of her face, kissing her
on the lips. Then, still snogging, he bent, pulling her with him until their heads touched the
liquid surface of the memory. They disappeared from the room.

Sirius looked at Remus. "Those two are so fucking cute. Alright, Moony, our turn."

Snogging Sirius was hard to resist, but Remus would rather not do it in front of Peter.
"Right," he said, and instead of kissing Sirius, he bent and brushed the memory with the tip
of his nose.

A strong force pulled him downward, sending him tumbling through space. Diving into
Peter's memory felt less like taking a Portkey and more like falling off a broom from a great
height. A hand latched onto his, and he heard Sirius' voice, distorted, as if coming from
underwater. "Oh, no, you don't — Lily and James do not get to be a cuter couple than us —"

Remus' feet slammed into the ground. He was immediately hauled up by the front of his
robes as Sirius pressed his lips to Remus' mouth. As if that wasn't dizzying enough, Sirius
dipped him as if they were performing a dramatic dance number, and Remus' head spun.

"Copycat," remarked James. "Don't crack his head against the floor, Padfoot."

Sirius stopped kissing Remus long enough to respond. "We're a cuter couple than you are.
Admit it."

"We're Head Boy and Girl," said Lily, smirking. "You're just a couple of Gryffindor gits."

"When we get back to the common room, I'm putting this to a vote," said Sirius.

"Please don't," said Remus, still bent backwards in Sirius' arms. "And would you let me up,
Pads, my spine feels like it might snap in half…"

Peter suddenly appeared beside them. "Are the lot of you snogging in my memory? I feel
violated!"

Sirius shrugged. "Needed a way to pass the time until you showed up. Who d'you think
makes a better couple: me and Remus, or Lily and James?"

"I'm not answering that," said Peter. "And you'd better pay attention, or you'll miss the good
bits of my memory."
"Oh, right," said Sirius, and they all looked around the place where they had landed. They
were in the main hall of Walpurgis Abbey, close to the marble staircase, except the hall was
ten times bigger than Remus remembered it. Each golden starburst on the floor seemed to
measure twenty feet across, and the alabaster walls stretched so high he couldn't see the
ceiling.

Something enormous and dark to his right shifted. Remus jumped; he was looking at a
gigantic shoe, its laces level with his head. The trainer looked oddly familiar, and Remus
realised he was staring at his shoe, scaled to the size of a bus.

"Is this how the world looks as a rat?" said Sirius with distaste. "It's terrifying."

"A rat?" said Lily. "I thought this was Peter's memory."

"It is," said Remus quickly. "Peter's got this trick he can do… very advanced Transfiguration,
makes him look like a rat…"

It wasn't a lie, but neither was it the whole truth. Lily seemed to buy it, though — she
nodded, then shuddered as the giant shoe rose into the air. "I feel like I'm in a funhouse," she
said.

The shoe passed over their heads and fell with an earth-shaking tremor. "You get used to it,"
said Peter. "Just try not to get stepped on, and you'll be alright."

"You were Disillusioned, weren't you?" said Lily. "Any idea how we're going to follow an
invisible rat?"

"Easy," said Sirius. He shook his wand, and dark smoke began to pour from it until they were
completely engulfed by an acrid black cloud.

Remus coughed as the smoke entered his lungs. A gust of wind lifted his hair, though they
were inside, and he felt something large passing very close to him. The smoke moved too,
sticking to the rat as it emerged from the cloud. The rat scurried away, looking like it had just
been dipped in ink.

"Clever," said Lily. "How long will that last?"

"On a real rat? An hour," said Sirius. "Who knows how long it'll work on a memory, though."

"We haven't got time to waste," said Peter. "There I go — come on!"

They followed the rat as it explored the main hall. The door to the left of the staircase led to a
lavish sitting room; both the Marauders and the rat were small enough to easily slip under the
door.

Sirius pointed to a grand piano made of solid gold. "Not very austere, for a monastery."

"Abbey," said Remus off-handedly. Ahead of them, the rat sniffed a rug made from the hide
of a sphinx.
"Same thing." Sirius reached up a hand to touch a cream-coloured sofa. "Well, I suppose
Lord Voldemort needed to spend all those pure-blood donations on something. Glad he
prioritised matching drawing room furnishings over stockpiling weapons."

"I'm sure he's got those, too," said Lily darkly.

After they had thoroughly explored the sitting room, they followed the rat to the base of the
marble staircase that led to the first floor. They were so small that they would have to hoist
themselves up each stair.

"For Pete's sake," muttered Remus. Upper body strength was not his strong suit, considering
he couldn't raise his left arm all the way. Peter gave him a look, and he added, "No offence."

"I'll help you," said Sirius, who had somehow already climbed the first stair. He stretched out
a hand. Remus grabbed it gratefully and allowed himself to be helped up.

The climb to the first floor was slow going, even for the other Marauders. After the fourth
step, James began to help Lily up; by the time they neared the top, all five of them were
helping one another as much as they could. The closer they came to the first floor, the more
difficult it was to ignore the dozens of Death Eaters looming tall as giants on the balustrade.

"We made it," panted Peter once they had reached the top of the stairs. "The diadem's being
kept on this floor."

Remus' heart was pounding, and his left shoulder ached like it was about to fall off. He
wanted nothing more than to stop to catch his breath, but the giant rat was already rushing
ahead, leaving a trail of black smoke in its wake.

As they followed the rat, Remus had to admire Peter's bravery. Scurrying around the feet of
Death Eaters must have been terrifying, yet as far as he could tell, the rat continued on its
mission without fear or hesitation. Sirius always said that emotions were easier to handle as
Padfoot; perhaps Peter felt the same way when he was Wormtail. So many things could kill a
rat — perhaps the Death Eaters were just one threat among many, in the mind of a rodent.

Wormtail darted in front of them and wriggled under a nearby door. "This is it," said Peter.
"The diadem's in that room."

"There aren't any protective enchantments on it?" asked Lily incredulously.

Peter shrugged. "Guess You-Know-Who thinks his Death Eaters are better protection than
spells."

"Yeah, but none of them are watching the door," remarked James with a glance at the Death
Eaters on the balustrade. "They seem more concerned with the goings-on in the main hall."

"I don't understand," said Lily. "They went to such lengths to get the diadem in the first place,
but they didn't even bother casting Fianto Duri on the room..."

"It gets weirder," said Peter, and he gestured for them to follow him as he squeezed under the
door.
In the centre of the room was a large table made of dark wood, but oddly, there were no
chairs. The alabaster walls were bare, and four life-sized statues stood in each corner of the
room. Remus tilted his head back, but the statues' faces were difficult to make out from his
miniature vantage point.

"The view's better from the table," said Peter, who was already scaling one of the table legs
as though it were a tree. The others followed, though Sirius and James had to help Remus and
Lily with the climb.

It took Remus a moment to realise he had reached the top of the table, so uneven was its
surface. The table was carved to resemble a vast landscape, as though it had been shaped
from clay instead of wood. There were low-rolling hills and valleys, polished wooden
mountains towering in the distance, and intricate clusters of buildings, like little cities.

Sirius peered at a sprawling, wooden metropolis on either side of a grooved river. "Fuck me,"
he said. "Is this London?"

Remus drew closer. "Looks like it." He gave the surface of the table a once-over; the
topography was as familiar as his own handwriting. "This table… it's a map of England, isn't
it?"

"Scotland's here, too," said Lily from the head of the table. She was examining a mountain
range, and her eyes widened. "I don't believe it. They've got Hogwarts on this map! I thought
the castle was Unplottable!"

"I'm not surprised, honestly," said James. "I mean, we figured it out. The Death Eaters
probably had an even easier time of it. More money and resources, you know."

"Hang on," said Remus, who had been trying to find Walpurgis Abbey in the southwestern
part of the map. A few buildings in wooden Bristol had begun to shift. He blinked, thinking
he was experiencing a bout of vertigo, but as he watched, the buildings disappeared and a
large skull made of black oak rose in their place. "The map just changed."

"Oh yeah, it does that," said Peter. "Far as I can tell, it's tracking the Death Eaters'
movements. Territory under their control and what-have-you. The Order's on there as well —
they're the ivory birds you'll see once in a while — but I don't think You-Know-Who knows
their entire whereabouts. There's no Order presence in London, for example, but we know
Dorcas is working out of there, and Alphard was, too."

"This is a war room," said Remus, putting the pieces together. Peter nodded.

"So where's the diadem?" asked James.

Peter pointed at one of the statues, which depicted a tall woman in austere robes. She
clutched a book in her hands, and long hair tumbled down her back.

Rowena Ravenclaw, thought Remus. He'd seen enough pictures in Hogwarts: A History to
recognise her at once. Encircling her head was a delicate silver tiara, looking somewhat out
of place on the marble statue's brow. It was as if someone had placed it there as an extra bit of
decoration.

"That's it?" said James, disbelieving. "That's the diadem people died for? Voldemort stuck it
on a statue?"

"Told you it was weird," said Peter. "They're all like that."

Remus turned slowly in a circle, looking at the other three statues. Salazar Slytherin leered at
him in one corner, a golden locket around his neck. In the opposite corner, Helga Hufflepuff
smiled benignly, holding aloft a golden chalice as if toasting to their health. Only the statue of
Godric Gryffindor lacked any accessories: beneath his wild stone beard, his mouth was
twisted in a scowl, and his hands were clasped before him in an odd, stiff gesture.

Remus squinted at the statue of Gryffindor. "Is he praying?"

"I think he's supposed to be holding a sword," said Peter. "I wonder if it went missing?"

"Or maybe Voldemort hasn't found it yet," said Sirius darkly. "He only just got the diadem,
didn't he?"

Bizarre, thought Remus. He'd found it strange that the ground floor of Walpurgis Abbey
resembled Hogwarts, and this was stranger still. Why did the greatest Dark Lord in a century
plan for war under the stony gaze of the Hogwarts founders?

"Well, that's all," said Peter, and Remus began to feel light-headed. Before he could sit down,
he realised he was floating upwards, being pulled by an invisible force. A moment later, he
and the others were back in the Room of Requirement.

"You didn't get a look at the rest of the abbey?" asked Lily.

The question was innocent enough, but Peter took it as a slight. "I found the diadem! What
else was there to look at?"

"Plenty," said Lily. "If we're going to sneak in, it's better that we know the place inside and
out. There's a whole second floor we know nothing about —"

"I might've gotten killed!" exclaimed Peter. "Didn't I risk enough?"

"Of course you did," said James, clapping a hand on Peter's back. "It's brilliant that you found
the diadem, Wormtail. Anything else is secondary."

Lily didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue further.

"Your turn, Moony," said Sirius, and Remus grimaced. He wasn't keen on having the others
watch his interactions with Greyback.

But he put his wand to his temple and placed a silver strand of memory into the basin. His
memory had them traipse along the path to the abbey, through the gates, and onto the
beautiful grounds. Sirius whistled at the Chimaeras guarding the doors to the abbey,
impressed.

"So this is what the place looks like when you're not six inches tall," said James as they
entered the main hall. He examined the paintings on the walls. "Hang on, this portrait looks
familiar…"

Lily joined him. "Oh, that's a copy of the one that hangs in the dungeons — the portrait of
young Salazar Slytherin. I'd heard he had a painting in Walpurgis Abbey."

"We're not here to look at the paintings," Sirius reminded them. He pointed at Remus' past
self, who was trailing a familiar group of Veela into the dining hall.

As they wandered through his memory, Remus found it odd to watch himself from this
perspective. When he'd attended the dinner, it had taken all of his self-control to keep from
bolting from the abbey. But his past self didn't seem nervous at all. He exchanged effortless
pleasantries with Scarlett, as if meeting other werewolves was something he did every day.
Remus remembered being on the verge of panic when speaking to Greyback, but none of the
emotions that had roiled within him showed on his past self's face.

When his past self rose to use the lavatory and strode purposefully from the hall, the other
Marauders turned to Remus. James and Peter looked supremely impressed, while Sirius and
Lily regarded him with something like discomfort.

"That was incredible," said James. "You waltzed into a room full of Dark creatures like it was
nothing. I would have shit myself."

"It didn't feel like nothing at the time," admitted Remus. "I actually began to hyperventilate a
bit. That's why I left the table."

"Bullshit," said Sirius as they followed Remus' past self into the entrance hall. "Look at the
way you're walking. You're swaggering like you own the place."

"I am not swaggering. Look, I just touched the wall because I felt dizzy."

"You're trailing your fingers across the gold trim," said Sirius. Remus wasn't sure if that was a
compliment or an accusation.

"This is where it gets interesting," said Remus once his past self had freed Wormtail from his
pocket and descended into the basement. Then his past self vanished, having put on the
Invisibility Cloak, but it was no trouble at all for Remus to lead the group down the various
corridors and explain what he had seen in each one.

"And these," he concluded as they started down the final corridor, "are the coffers of the
Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"No way," said Sirius, examining the plaques above each vault. He quickened his step until
he was nearly running and skidded to a halt outside the door labelled Black. "I knew it. I
knew it. Did you get a look inside?" He ran his hands eagerly along the door.
Remus nearly yelled at him to stop, that the door was surely cursed, but then he remembered
that they were in a memory. "I did, actually. Thanks to your cousin."

As if on cue, Bellatrix Black and the business-like goblin appeared at the end of the corridor.
The Marauders and Lily watched in silence as Bellatrix stepped into the vault, withdrew a
handful of items, and left.

Sirius let out a string of expletives. "That bitch. You saw what was inside, that's got to be all
the wealth my family owns — or the vast majority of it, at least. She must have convinced
my father and uncle to move everything here."

"It's not like they would have taken much convincing, though, would they?" said James.
"From what you've told me, they've been donating large sums to the Death Eaters for years."

Sirius didn't appear to be listening. "I hate her. I fucking hate her. The whole lot of them can
go to hell."

James placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Anything else we should see, Moony?"

"That's it, really," said Remus. "Unless you fancy watching me make small talk with
werewolves and eat human flesh…"

"H-human flesh?!" sputtered Peter.

"That was a joke, Wormtail." Although it was probably best that his friends did not see the
slab of meat he had been served.

Once they were back in the Room of Requirement, James said, "So we all agree that was a
success, yeah?"

"Definitely," said Sirius, who seemed to have cooled off now that he was no longer in
proximity with his cousin. "Thanks to Moony and Wormtail, we've got a good idea of the
abbey's layout and its defences. Excellent work, you two."

Peter gnawed one of his nails. "So stealing the diadem is still on?"

"Absolutely," said James, and Peter's face fell. "We just need to figure out when we want to
do it."

Remus withdrew the invitation Greyback had given him. "If I could make a suggestion…"

Sirius grabbed the card, scanned it, and tossed it to James. "You think we should infiltrate this
masquerade?"

"Brilliant," said James, reading the card in even less time than Sirius had. "We knock out a
few invitees, take their place using Polyjuice, and swipe the diadem from underneath the
Death Eater's noses. Child's play."

Lily peered at the invitation. "Walpurgis Night is the thirtieth of April, isn't it? That's the
same day as my sister's wedding."
She and James exchanged a look. For a moment, Remus thought James was about to call the
whole thing off, but James said, "We'll just have to arrive fashionably late to the masquerade,
I expect."

"Are you certain we'll be ready by then?" asked Peter with poorly-disguised hope in his
voice. "The masquerade's barely a month away…"

"We've been preparing since late January," said James. "We're ready. Unless the potions need
more time?"

Lily tilted her head, calculating. "They should be done by then."

"Security will be increased for the masquerade," said Remus, because someone needed to
consider the practicalities of the situation. "Things will likely look different than they did for
the banquet."

"Probably not by much, though," responded James. "I imagine Lord Voldemort wouldn't have
invited a hundred Dark creatures into his headquarters without upping security first — not
that the abbey's security was anything to write home about."

"Hubris, thy name is Voldemort," said Sirius.

James nodded. "I bet the abbey will be even less guarded during the masquerade. Voldemort
likely doesn't consider a bunch of rich tossers a threat."

"He probably thinks his reputation keeps him safe," said Lily. "It's an excellent deterrent —
to anyone sane, at least."

"And just what are you implying, Wondergirl?" said Sirius. Lily batted her eyes innocently at
him.

"We'll figure everything out, I guess," said Peter nervously. "Is anyone else starving? If we
hurry, we can still make it to dinner…"

Sirius put a hand on Remus' arm before he could leave. "Can I talk to you for a sec?
Privately?"

"'Course," said Remus, motioning the others on. Once they were alone, he said, "What is it?
If you're hoping to snog me senseless, I've got a bit of free time before my patrol starts…"

"That's the second item on the list." Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus and fell
backwards, sending them both to the floor. They landed on a plush cushion that hadn't been
there a moment ago.

Remus patted the cushion appreciatively. "I love the Room of Requirement."

Pinned beneath him, Sirius made a noise of agreement.

"What's the first thing on the list, then?" said Remus. "Let's get it over with, since item
number two sounds enticing."
"I just wanted to tell you that you're brilliant. You know that, right?"

The compliment was a bit hard to swallow, considering it came from Sirius, who was actually
brilliant. "You flatter me," said Remus. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

"I mean it. You fooled an entire room of Dark creatures into thinking you were one of them."

I am one of them, thought Remus. Before he could speak the words aloud, Sirius put a finger
to his lips.

"You're not like them, Moony. I won't have you thinking otherwise."

"Suit yourself."

"I will, thanks." Lazily, Sirius petted Remus' hair, as though he were stroking a dog.

I'm not your pet, Remus wanted to say. But it did feel nice.

"Can't believe you got a look at the vault," said Sirius after a moment. "Talk about a lucky
break."

Remus' mind was on the feel of Sirius' nails against the back of his neck. "Er, was it?"

"Course. Makes things easier for me. That's why I say you're brilliant." Sirius lifted his head
and pressed a kiss to Remus' forehead.

This was a lot of sensory information to process. It took a moment for Remus' brain to catch
up. "Makes things easier? How?"

Sirius' smile grew sly. "Can you keep a secret, Moony?"

There was something in his tone that made Remus' hair stand on end. A new sensation
formed in the pit of his stomach, this one anything but pleasant. "Keeping secrets is what I'm
best at."

Sirius raised his head and whispered in Remus' ear. "I'm going to take back what's mine."

They were so close that Remus was certain Sirius could feel his heartbeat accelerate. "What
do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. On Walpurgis Night, I'm going after more than the stupid diadem. I
want my family's gold."

Remus closed his eyes. He wanted to go back to the moment before they began this
conversation. "The diadem's stupid, now? You were the one who wanted to steal it in the first
place."

"Come on, Moony," said Sirius in the voice he used when Remus didn't understand a bit of
homework that he had figured out immediately. "I had to say something to get you lot to go
along with it. But the real treasure at the abbey is my family's fortune, and you found it
without any help at all. Without even knowing that's what I needed. That's why you're
brilliant."

With a great effort, Remus lifted himself off of Sirius. He felt like he was in a bad dream.
"You don't care about the diadem at all?"

"I care about it," said Sirius with no real feeling. "It'll be great if we end up getting the
diadem, too, but —"

"'Too'? You're making it sound like an afterthought!"

"Well, that's because it is."

This couldn't be happening. Remus rubbed his brow, trying to gather his thoughts. "Sirius.
You have to tell the others about this."

"Absolutely not. Wondergirl would never go for it, which means James would bow out, too.
And Peter's one panic attack away from swearing off the entire thing as is."

"But that's exactly why you need to tell them. They ought to know what they're risking their
lives for."

Sirius propped himself up on his elbows, looking intently at Remus. "You're upset with me."

"Of course I am! You lied!"

"It wasn't a lie. More of an… omission of the truth."

Remus sat back on his heels and groaned, pressing his face into his hands. "I thought — I
thought we were going to deal a blow to Voldemort. Not satisfy your personal vendetta."

"Don't you see? We will be dealing a blow to Voldemort — an enormous one, bigger than
what we'd planned. How much can that diadem be worth, anyway? A thousand Galleons, two
thousand? There's a hundred times that in my family's vault, and if we can steal it —"

"Impossible," said Remus sharply. He didn't bother modulating his tone; he was angry, and he
wanted Sirius to know it. "It's one thing to steal the diadem while everyone's looking the
other way. But to get to that vault, we'll need a goblin to go along with it, we'll need a key
that only Bellatrix has, we'll need a way to smuggle out mountains of gold without being
detected —"

"We can figure it out."

"Not if you don't tell the others! We need them, Sirius!"

Sirius sat up suddenly and lunged for Remus. Instinctively, Remus jolted backwards, thinking
Sirius was about to hit him; instead, Sirius grabbed him on either side of his face and pulled
him forward, so that their foreheads were touching.

"I need you," said Sirius, low and urgent. "Nobody else. We can do this, just you and me."
 Remus placed his hands over Sirius' and squeezed them without caring whether it hurt. "God
damn you," he whispered. "Why did you tell me this? Things were going so well… I was so
fucking happy." He thought back to only an hour ago, when he and Sirius were falling hand-
in-hand through the Pensieve. How foolish he'd been.

"I needed you to know everything," said Sirius. "I need your help."

"You're asking me to lie to our friends."

"It isn't —"

"Call it what you want, then. They'll be going to Walpurgis Abbey without knowing what you
intend to do."

"That's why I'm leaving them out of this. I don't want to put them in danger," said Sirius. "I
wouldn't do that to James — or the others. But I have a plan, Moony, if you'll just hear me
out. We can rob the vault, just the two of us."

Remus pulled away. "I don't want to be your co-conspirator. I want to stick to the plan we
agreed on."

"But this could be better than what we were planning." Sirius clasped his hand over Remus'.
"If all goes well, the others will get the diadem, and you and I will get the gold from the
vault. It'll be incredible."

"And if I say no?"

He knew Sirius' answer before Sirius even responded. "Then I'll go after it myself."

It was the forest in Albania all over again. "You ask too much of me, Padfoot."

"That's because you always come through." Sirius brushed a lock of hair out of Remus' eyes.
"Please, Moony."

Remus wanted to refuse. He wanted to storm out of the room. Perhaps it was the inertia of his
weathered bones that made him stay, or perhaps it was the look in Sirius' granite eyes. The
exact reason didn't matter, in the end. There was one thing about Remus that had always been
true: he couldn't say no to Sirius Black.

"Fine," he said. "I'm absolutely furious with you, but fine. I'll help you. Tell me about this
plan."

Chapter End Notes

aaaand the cat's out of the bag now! Sorry to end the chapter on a cliffhanger, but I
couldn't resist :) What do you think of Sirius' plan? Any predictions? (btw, if you reread
chapters 50 and 51, it's pretty clear Sirius has been thinking about this for a while...)
 Offers and Obligations
Chapter Notes

I've had several comments saying that the diadem being at Walpurgis Abbey is a plot
hole that contradicts canon, since Voldemort allegedly hid the diadem at Hogwarts,
before the Marauder's time.

I can't say too much cause of spoilers, but this is actually not a plot hole at all! In canon,
Harry theorizes that Voldemort hid the diadem during his job interview, but it's never
confirmed that this is what actually happened. (In fact, the Grey Lady looks 'utterly
bewildered' when he says this aloud!) Harry could be right, but he also could be wrong.
We never find out for sure.

What we DO know about the diadem is this:

1. Voldemort found it in Albania after the Grey Lady hid it there, and

2. At some point, he hid it in the Room of Requirement, believing he alone knew where
it was.

As to what happens in between those two points... that's something this story tries to
answer! I'm hopeful that the plot line is more entertaining than the theory Harry came up
with :) Back to our regularly scheduled programming!

Lily couldn't believe that, in three short weeks, she and the Marauders were going to sneak
into Walpurgis Abbey. More than that, she couldn't believe that they actually had a decent
chance of succeeding.

The heist would be dangerous, of course, but it wasn't the suicide mission she'd feared it
would be. She'd counted only three dozen guards during their trip through the Pensieve. A
few protective enchantments lay over the abbey, but nothing she couldn't circumvent. Most
surprisingly, there had been no curses and no traps. The abbey didn't even have any
passwords.

In short, there were corridors in Hogwarts that were better guarded than Lord Voldemort's
seat of power.

It was clear the Death Eaters assumed that nobody in their right mind would approach the
abbey uninvited. And to their credit, most of wizarding Britain wanted to stay as far from the
Death Eaters as possible. But the Marauders weren't like most wizards, and Lily was certainly
not like most witches. Lord Voldemort believed his reputation alone was enough to protect
the abbey, and that assumption would be his undoing.
In a way, the heist gave Lily something positive to focus on. She was happy to throw her
energy into making potions and researching spells that might come in useful. It was better
than studying for N.E.W.T.s, which were fast approaching, or scouring the Daily Prophet for
hints about St Mungo's rumoured policy changes. Even her impending thousand-Galleon
fine, due in a mere two months, didn't weigh as heavily on her mind anymore. If Sirius paid
her as he'd promised, the fine would be a thing of the past. She'd keep her wand after
Hogwarts. She'd be free to —

Well, she wasn't entirely certain what she'd be free to do. But she hoped Professor
McGonagall would have some idea; the seventh years had been scheduled for a final round of
career guidance, and her appointment was that very afternoon.

When she entered Professor McGonagall's office, the professor pushed a tin of biscuits at her
before she could sit down.

"Eat," said Professor McGonagall.

Lily wasn't hungry, but she took a biscuit anyway as she sat. It crumbled in her mouth, tasting
of lemon and butter, and she suddenly felt very grateful to have Professor McGonagall as her
Head of House.

"We have much to discuss, Miss Evans," said Professor McGonagall. "I would first like to
hear what you would like to do after Hogwarts."

A hypothetical question. Lily liked that; she could ignore the reality of her fine, St Mungo's
changing policies, the looming war. "Ideally, Professor, I'd like to become a Healer."

Professor McGonagall's mouth tightened. Was she holding back a smile or a frown? "I
thought you might. Madam Pomfrey tells me your apprenticeship is going well, and
Professor Slughorn speaks most highly of your Potions capabilities."

"I've learned a lot from both of them," said Lily. "But…"

Professor McGonagall's neutral expression settled into a frown. She pushed the tin of biscuits
closer to Lily. "You've been reading the Daily Prophet, I assume?"

All of the emotion that had been gathering inside Lily threatened to burst from her chest. "I
can't believe St Mungo's would do something like that. It's in direct violation of the Healer's
Oath! They take an Unbreakable Vow to treat all patients equally, from Death Eater to
Minister for Magic. So how can they turn around and ban Muggle-borns from practising
Healing?"

"They say it's a safety measure." Professor McGonagall's tone made it clear she believed such
safety measures were utter garbage.

"I think it's a terrible idea," said Lily. "St Mungo's is giving the Death Eaters what they want.
It empowers them."
"The Headmaster has advised them as such," said Professor McGonagall, surprising Lily.
"But the director of St Mungo's refuses to listen to reason."

"You think it's certain, then? That they'll ban Muggle-borns from becoming Healers?"

Professor McGonagall sighed heavily. "Finish your biscuit, Miss Evans."

The pastry was dry and flavourless in Lily's mouth. When she had swallowed the last, stale
bite, she said, "I suppose I'll join the Order, then."

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. She'd thought Professor McGonagall would be
pleased, but the Transfiguration professor's eyes flashed dangerously behind her spectacles.
"The Order of the Phoenix is a loosely-organised group of renegades who engage in guerrilla
warfare under the Headmaster's direction. You have nothing to gain by joining them, and
everything to lose."

"But they would accept me, wouldn't they? Since I'm of age?"

Professor McGonagall's voice was clipped. "I have no doubt they would make great use of
your talent. But you have other options available, which I urge you to consider. There are
Potions Masters in Diagon Alley who accept apprentices regardless of blood status. You
could even get a job at the Ministry if you so choose. Professor Slughorn would have no
problem finding you a placement, with his connections…"

If I get a thousand Galleons from Sirius. If I keep my wand. "I hadn't considered those options
before," said Lily, trying to sound like she was truly interested. "I'll have to give it some
thought."

"That is all I ask," said Professor McGonagall.

After her meeting with the professor was finished, Lily made her way to the Quidditch pitch.
The afternoon was sunny, and the air hummed with chittering birds making the most of the
springtime warmth. As she climbed to the top of the stands, the hem of her robes fluttered in
the pleasant breeze.

High above her, the Gryffindor Quidditch team was in the middle of practice, running drills
that she couldn't make heads or tails of. Their match with Hufflepuff was in two weeks, and it
was apparently going to be a tough one. This was why James had scheduled practice in the
middle of the afternoon, and why she was in the stands, lending moral support.

She'd shown up purely for his sake, of course. It had nothing to do with how he looked in his
Quidditch leathers.

James led the other Chasers in a daring manoeuvre, diving almost all the way to the ground,
then changing course to circle the pitch. "Alright, Evans?" he called as they zoomed past her.

She raised a hand to wave, but they were already gone, streaking towards the Ravenclaw
section of the stands.
As she waited for Quidditch practice to finish, she pulled out a red suede purse with dangling
fringe that her mum had gotten her for her birthday. She tapped it with her wand and began to
magically expand its interior. Remus had taught her how to cast an Undetectable Extension
Charm, and she was hoping to store the dozen potions she was making inside the purse on
Walpurgis Night.

Casting the charm was slow going; she only dared expand the purse a little at a time, as she
didn't want it to explode. She was so absorbed in the spell that she almost didn't notice James
climbing the stands to join her. When she did spot him, it took all of her willpower to finish
the charm instead of jumping into his arms.

"What're you working on?" asked James, sitting beside her. His eyes were bright with energy,
his hair wild from flying.

She finished muttering the incantation and put her wand away. "Undetectable Extension
Charm, for the masquerade. Remus taught me."

"Extension Charms are prohibited at Hogwarts." James threw an arm around her and kissed
her on the cheek. "I might have to take points."

She grinned, leaning against him. "I'd like to see you try."

"I take being Head Boy very seriously, you know. But you caught me in a good mood, so I'll
let you off this time. How was career guidance with Minnie?"

She almost lied to him. Her head rested comfortably atop the slope of his shoulder, and she
didn't want to ruin the moment. But they were past the point of keeping secrets from one
another. "It was shit."

His arm tightened around her, giving her wordless comfort. "St Mungo's new policy is more
than just rumours, I'm guessing?"

"You know about St Mungo's?" She tilted her head to get a better look at him.

"It's been in the Prophet."

"You don't read the newspaper."

"I'm turning a new leaf." He flashed her a grin, then rested his head atop hers, stroking her
hair. "I'm sorry, Lils. It isn't fair."

"I know." Hot tears welled in her eyes, and she balled her fists into his robes. "I don't know
why I'm so disappointed. I should've seen it coming."

"You're not a Seer," he reminded her gently. "None of us could have predicted this."

"I guess." She wiped her eyes and took a shuddering breath. "I shouldn't be upset, honestly.
Even if St Mungo's wanted me, it doesn't mean anything if I can't pay my —"
The warm weight of James' head atop hers lifted as he raised his head to look at her. "If you
can't pay your what?"

Shit. She hadn't wanted him to know about her fine. "Erm… d'you remember my hearing at
the Ministry last summer?"

"'Course. I was furious that they banned you from Apparating."

"They did more than just ban me." Lily kept her eyes on her hands; for some reason, that was
easier than looking James in the eye. "They gave me a fine."

"Oh, did they? How much?"

"A thousand Galleons."

James let out a series of swears she had never heard before, though she recognised some of
the ancient wizards whose names were invoked. "You can't be serious."

"I am. I need to pay them by the time I graduate, or they'll snap my wand."

"But that's ridiculous. You're a student — a Muggle-born student. You haven't even got a
hundred Galleons in your Gringotts vault, let alone a thousand. Why would they…?" But he
realised the answer to his question before he'd even finished asking it. "Those bastards. They
want to snap your wand."

The thought had crossed her mind, as well, but hearing it aloud still hurt. "I guess they think
wizarding Britain is better off without me."

"Well, they're wrong." He hugged her tightly to his chest. "Don't worry, Lils. We'll figure out
a way to pay your fine. I can ask my parents —"

"James, no."

He lifted an eyebrow. "No?"

"I don't want your parents to get placed on some kind of Ministry watchlist because of me.
Besides, I've got a plan."

His eyebrow went even higher. "Which is…?"

Well, she'd already spilt the beans about the fine. Might as well tell him everything. "Er,
Sirius promised me a thousand Galleons if I helped with the heist."

"You're joking."

"I'm not."

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. "You joined the heist for money?"
"That wasn't my only reason!" she said defensively. "I want to help you lot as well,
obviously, and the more trouble we can cause the Death Eaters, the better. But if I'm going to
be risking my neck, I might as well get some Galleons out of it."

"That's so… pragmatic," said James. She couldn't tell if he was complimenting her or not. "I
think Sirius must have been pulling your leg, though. He hasn't got that much gold."

Lily's heart began to pound. She straightened, looking up at him. "What do you mean? His
uncle left him —"

"…a few hundred Galleons," finished James. "Enough to live on for a while after Hogwarts,
but nothing that'll last forever. And certainly not enough to pay your fine."

"He lied to me?"

James placed a hand on her back, stroking her with his thumb. She wondered if he could feel
the tension in her shoulder blades. "I don't think Sirius would do that."

Lily wasn't as certain, but arguing with James about his best friend's character wouldn't get
her anywhere. "I guess it doesn't matter, anyway. I know what I'm going to do after
Hogwarts, and I don't need the Ministry's approval to do it."

She had expected James to ask what her plans were, but he turned to face her, his expression
solemn. "You're going to join the Order."

She blinked, surprised. "You knew?"

"Of course."

His gaze didn't waver from hers. You astonish me, she thought. Perhaps one day she would
stop being surprised that James Potter — James Potter! The former toerag! — knew her so
well.

"Yeah," she said aloud. "That's the plan. I'm not letting the Ministry snap my wand. And I
doubt very much that the Order will care if I'm on the Ministry's bad side, so long as I help
them fight Voldemort."

James smiled and squeezed her hand. "The Order will be lucky to have you. I can't wait to
watch you grow as a witch after Hogwarts."

What did that mean? In all their late-night talks in the Heads' dormitory, they'd never
discussed their future before. "You want to keep seeing each other, then? After we graduate?"

He looked at her, bemused, as if she'd just missed a question they both knew the answer to.
"Of course I do. I'm joining the Order too, Lils."

A jolt of adrenaline shot through her body, equal parts excitement and fear. "You don't have
to say that. If it's for me — I don't want you to join for my sake. It's dangerous, you could —"
You could die. A memory flashed in her mind: James, unconscious and bleeding on the
dungeon floor.
"I wouldn't be joining only for your sake." Still holding her hand, he rose to his feet and
pulled her upward. As they descended the stands, he said, "You're a large part of it, of course.
I — I care about you. So much. And I don't want you to fight the Dark Lord alone. But I'm
not joining only for you."

She didn't know if that made her feel better or worse. James was so brilliant, so talented; he
could do anything with his life. He could change the world. She didn't want him to shape his
life around hers.

And perhaps he wasn't. I'm joining, he'd said. Not I want to join. Not if they let me. He spoke
as if the matter was already decided.

"Why else are you interested in the Order?" she asked as they walked back to the castle.

The sun had nearly set, and James was using his wand to flick sticks and pebbles out of her
path. "Careful — don't trip," he said. "About the Order — I just think somebody needs to stop
Voldemort. We won't have a moment's peace until we do."

"Who's 'we'? You and I?"

"Everybody. People are sticking their heads in the sand. It's like they think if they ignore the
war, it'll go away. But that'll never happen — not at the rate that the Death Eaters are gaining
power. So, somebody needs to murder Lord Voldemort."

Lily grinned. He was such a boy. "And you're going to be the one to do it, are you?"

"If I get the chance." He pointed his wand at a particularly large rock, and it shot off the path
and into the grass. "I just figure that the more of us who stand up to him, the quicker we'll be
able to get back to a normal life." He glanced at her, then looked quickly away. "That's what I
really want. A normal life with you."

A normal life. Lily wondered what that really meant. Was it the life she had before age
eleven, before she had been whisked away to the world of magic? Or was it the life witches
and wizards had before the advent of Lord Voldemort? She thought of her parents, raising her
and Petunia in sleepy Cokeworth, and of James' parents, teaching him to fly on a toy
broomstick. Perhaps the two worlds weren't so different, after all.

"I'd like that," she said softly. "I'd like a life with you."

He ducked his head, grinning sheepishly. "You don't have to say that."

"I mean it." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head and his mouth
caught hers. There was so much love in the way his jaw moved, how he cupped her face in
his hands. She would never get tired of kissing him.

"Let's join the Order," he whispered.

"Let's. And after the war —"

"We'll find real jobs. Start a family. Play Quidditch at the weekends."
"You'll play Quidditch at the weekends," said Lily. They were cheek-to-cheek, and she could
feel him smile. "I'll be in the stands, drinking one of Sirius' cocktails and cheering you on."

"I can't wait."

"Me neither," she said.

It was beautiful, this vision of their future. And they could make it happen — she'd never
been more certain of that. She and James would have a wonderful life together.

They just had to win a war first.

During Herbology the following week, Severus realised he was being watched.

The observer in question was a large raven with a wickedly curved beak. It sat in the boughs
of a tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, staring as Severus and the other Slytherins
harvested Leaping Toadstools. After the lesson, Severus ducked into the nearest greenhouse
and spent ten minutes polishing the curved blade of his harvesting knife. He was likely being
paranoid; the bird would be gone once he finished.

But when he emerged from the greenhouse, the raven was still there. In fact, it had flown
closer, and was now perched atop the tattered scarecrow that oversaw the vegetable patch.

Severus decided to ignore it. He had done nothing to warrant attention from a massive, ugly
bird, and it surely couldn't follow him into the castle. Therefore, it was nothing to worry
about.

He'd walked ten steps when the raven let out a horrible caw and dived at his head. Severus
ducked and pulled his wand from his robes, firing a Reductor Curse at the bird. It shrieked
angrily as the spell clipped its wings, but it wheeled towards the Forbidden Forest and
disappeared from view.

Problem solved, thought Severus. As he pocketed his wand, a flash of white caught his eye.
There was a scroll of parchment on the ground near the scarecrow.

The raven must have been a messenger bird, then. But who in their right mind would use
such a repugnant creature as a —

He unfurled the scroll and glanced at the signature at the bottom. It took all of his willpower
not to groan. The letter was signed Bellatrix Black.

My dear Severus, the parchment read. News of your latest invention has reached my ears, and
I am so proud of what you have achieved. In rescuing Edmund and Regulus from the grip of
the Imperius Curse, you have proven that you know the true meaning of brotherhood. I
congratulate you, and have included a small token of my gratitude.
There was nothing affixed to the parchment, so Severus bent to search the grass at the base of
the scarecrow. His fingers closed over something smooth and cool. It was a leprechaun skull,
about the length of his finger, with Galleons embedded in the oversized eye sockets.

He returned his attention to the letter. I have also passed the news of your success to the Dark
Lord. He is highly interested in your Universal Solvent, as it will be a great boon to our side
in the war.

Consequently, and as a reward for your hard work and dedication, the Dark Lord would like
all of his Followers at Hogwarts to present themselves to Him on Walpurgis Night. The
masquerade begins at sundown — do not be late! I am told He wishes to give you an eternal
reward.

There was a postscript. P.S. Destroy this letter.

Severus rolled his eyes, but he burned the parchment, then Vanished the ashes. The coins in
the leprechaun's eyes glittered in the palm of his hand. Such an expensive, useless gift. He
could sell it, he supposed, but that wouldn't win him any favours with Bellatrix.

Instead, he used his wand to drill a small hole at the top of the skull, and he slid it onto the
golden chain he wore around his neck. The leprechaun skull clinked against the Time-Turner,
and he tucked the necklace beneath his robes before anyone could see what was on it.

He ruminated on Bellatrix's letter as he returned to the castle. The Dark Lord was offering
them an eternal reward… That meant they would be Marked, surely. He brushed his
fingertips across his left forearm, envisioning how it would look with a skull and snake
stretching from elbow to wrist.

"Good news," he told Avery and Regulus that evening. They were in Dungeon Thirteen, well
away from prying ears. "We have been invited to attend Walpurgis Night celebrations at the
abbey."

Regulus made a face, as though Severus had just commanded him to eat slugs. "Not the
masquerade?"

Severus' lip curled. "The very same. I hope you brought your dress robes."

"Fantastic," said Regulus drily.

"I thought you'd be enthusiastic. You've been training your entire life to mingle with rich
pure-bloods at decadent balls."

"Exactly. My parents have been talking about it for months — I'm sick of the subject
already."

"What's a masquerade?" asked Avery.

"It's a very fancy party," said Severus. "Everybody wears masks and eats expensive food."
"And there's dancing," added Regulus with a shudder. "I can't think of anything I'd less like
to attend."

"This ought to lift your spirits," said Severus. "The Dark Lord plans to Mark us while we're
there."

Regulus sucked in a breath. His eyes darted back and forth, as though thinking quickly, but
no words left his lips; Severus suspected he was exercising extreme self-restraint. At last, he
said, "It had to happen sooner or later, I suppose."

"Spoken like a true heir to the House of Black," said Severus.

"You're pleased, aren't you?" asked Regulus. "You've done a lot to reach this point."

I have, thought Severus. He'd clawed his way to get to where he was now. He'd been
scheming, ruthless, and brilliant. And it had paid off: in three short years, he'd gone from
being a half-blood Slytherin outcast to being invited to join the Dark Lord's ranks. Though
the journey had cost him — he very nearly thought of her — the power and security he
would receive as a Death Eater would make it all worthwhile. It had to; he couldn't bear to
consider the alternative.

"You're correct," he said. "I am very pleased."

Remus felt like all the most important events of his life were barrelling toward him at once,
and he was powerless to stop them. The celestial rhythm on which his life turned, the full
moon, was but a night away, and the masquerade at Walpurgis Abbey was a mere six days
after that. N.E.W.T.s began the following week and would last two weeks — assuming they
all lived long enough to sit for their N.E.W.T.s, of course — with graduation from Hogwarts
shortly after.

It was odd, he reflected as he sat with Lily in the Quidditch stands, watching Gryffindor play
against Hufflepuff. He'd spent the past seven years assuming that N.E.W.T.s would be the
most stressful and demanding part of his time at Hogwarts. Now that the exams were
approaching, though, he could barely bring himself to care about them.

Nothing like a run-in with Death Eaters to make you reconsider your priorities, he thought.
Beside him, Lily wasn't even pretending to watch the match; she was flicking through the
thick grimoire in her lap, trying to memorise as many spells as possible.

"This has got instructions on casting Fiendfyre!" she exclaimed. "Should I learn how to do
it?"

That sounded like a trick question — and if James or Sirius were asking, it certainly would
have been — but Remus' brain wasn't working well enough to parse the answer. "Sounds a bit
dangerous to me," he admitted.

Lily sighed. "I'll admit I'm tempted — it's the best combustion spell that exists, after all. But
it's incredibly difficult to control, I could get us all killed…"

"If anyone's capable of containing Fiendfyre, you are."

She smiled. "Don't flatter me, Remus. No, I won't learn it — it's too dangerous."

But her eyes lingered on the page.

As Lily returned to her book, Remus was free to watch the match. He tried to focus on the
Quaffle, which changed hands so quickly that the announcer, a fifth-year Ravenclaw, was
unable to keep up, but his eyes kept getting dragged back to a certain crimson blur. Sirius
flew about the pitch with the same effortless grace he did everything. Each time he swung his
bat at a Bludger, a loud crack reverberated throughout the stands.

Remus wished it were possible to keep Sirius at a distance off the Quidditch pitch, as well.
He hated having to pretend that everything was fine. Recently, Remus felt like he'd been
lying to everyone except himself, and it was weighing on him.

When he was with the Marauders and Lily, it took everything in him not to reveal Sirius' true
goals for Walpurgis Night. When he was with Sirius, he buried his lingering feelings of hurt
and betrayal, throwing himself headfirst into the logistics of stealing from the Black family
vault. After all, his life — and the lives of everyone he loved — depended on the plan being
airtight.

"How are things between you two?" asked Lily, jolting Remus from his thoughts. She nodded
towards the pitch, where Sirius was circling the Hufflepuff hoops.

"Oh — really good, actually," lied Remus.

Lily smiled. "You know, I always wondered about the girl who would end up taming Sirius
Black. Never crossed my mind that it might be a bloke doing the taming — or that it might be
you. But when I see you two together — it makes sense."

"I never thought we'd be together, either," said Remus honestly.

Below them, the Hufflepuff Keeper narrowly avoided one of Sirius' Bludgers. Lily
applauded, her expression thoughtful. "You're good for him. And I think he's good for you,
too."

It would have been more prudent for Remus to stay silent, but curiosity got the better of him.
"Why do you think he's good for me?"

"Well, he pushes you out of your comfort zone, doesn't he? And I think he reminds you that
you're loved."

Quietly, Remus disagreed. He hadn't felt very loved by Sirius recently; he'd just felt used.
But he couldn't say any of that aloud. "Love is a big word. We've only just started dating."

There was a knowing look in Lily's green eyes. "It is a big word."

The conversation was creeping into dangerous territory. Remus decided to change the
subject. "I think we've caught the Snitch," he said, but his words were drowned out by the
roar of the crowd.

Lily jumped to her feet, clapping enthusiastically. "This is fantastic!" she shouted to Remus
over the cheers of the other Gryffindors. "James will be pleased, everybody flew so well…"

Remus rose from his seat, smiling. "You sound like a true sports fan. If you don't watch out,
people might start to think you like Quidditch."

She stuck out her tongue at him. "I like my boyfriend. And I really like his Quidditch
parties."

"Speaking of," said Remus. "Let's get back to the common room before the first years take
over the place."

They arrived at the Gryffindor common room to find it absolutely crawling with younger
students, but Peter and Mary MacDonald were doing their best to shoo them into their
dormitories.

"Little buggers," said Mary affectionately. "Hi, Lily! Mind giving us a hand?"

"Certainly." Lily pointed her wand at the clock above the mantel, making the big hand spin.
"Time for bed, everybody! Curfew's in ten minutes, anyone out of their dormitory will get
detention!"

A few students grumbled in protest, but they filed up the stairs to the dormitories anyway.

"It isn't really time for bed, is it?" asked a cheeky-looking third year.

"Of course it is," said Remus loudly as a group of second years looked at him. Once they had
shuffled off to their dormitory, he winked at the third year. "If you're old enough to visit
Hogsmeade, you're old enough to celebrate with us."

The third year whooped and ran over to his friends.

An arm fell across Remus' shoulders, pulling him close. "Remus John Lupin, you are a
merciful god," declared Sirius. He was still in his Quidditch leathers, and he smelled of grass
and sweat. "If I were a prefect, I would have sent the third years packing, too."

Remus ducked out from under Sirius' arm. "No harm in letting them stay," he said.

"What did you think of the match? Did you see when I decked Alistair Bagnold in the face?"

"I did see that. You were — hang on —" Remus broke off. Peter was headed towards them,
teetering under an armful of liquor bottles, and Remus took the opportunity to disengage
from Sirius.

Maybe it was petty to deny Sirius the attention he wanted. But Remus wasn't above a little
pettiness.

You can't hold Sirius' mistakes against him forever, warned a voice in his head. Suppose he
dies at Walpurgis Abbey? You'll have spent your last days with him harbouring anger.

Remus was not in the mood to think about death, or forgiveness, or the sodding heist. Or the
fucking full moon. "I'll take that, Pete," he said, pulling a bottle of Firewhisky from Peter's
arms. It was time to fall back on the tried-and-true method that would dull the emotions
threatening to swallow him whole: he was going to get outrageously drunk.

Two hours and a copious amount of Firewhisky later, Remus' mood had improved somewhat,
though the moon still tugged at the marrow in his bones. The party was in full swing, and the
common room was crowded with students drinking and laughing. A duelling ring had formed
in one corner; Lily was in the middle, holding off two sixth years by herself. Her dark red
hair whipped around her face as she dodged a Stunning Spell from one of the students, then
sent a volley of charms in return. One of the sixth years side-stepped her charms, but was
forced out of the ring.

"She's a vision," said Sirius, appearing at Remus' side.

Remus nodded, still watching the duel. The movement of Lily's hair was mesmerising. Or
maybe he was just drunk. "She's practising."

"For Walpurgis Night? Good for her." Sirius interlaced his fingers with Remus' palm. "What
will you give me if I beat her?"

Remus looked at their intertwined hands. Considered pulling away. Didn't, in the end. "Want
my Gobstones collection?"

Sirius put his lips to Remus' ear, his voice low. "I was thinking of a different sort of reward, if
you catch my drift."

It was becoming difficult to remember why Remus was cross with Sirius. Maybe he could set
aside his grudge for a night. "Want me to find us a broom closet?"

"A broom closet? What are we, thirteen?"

"There's a reason it's a classic. Besides, I've caught enough couples after curfew to know all
the best spots."

"I like the way you think." Sirius winked at him, then let go of his hand and danced into the
centre of the duelling ring. The crowd cheered as he and Lily began to duel, a far more even
match than the previous one had been.

A good boyfriend would have stayed to watch the entire thing, but after a few minutes,
Remus slipped away. The warm, boozy atmosphere in the common room was stifling, and he
needed some air.
He climbed out of the portrait hole. Halfway down a nearby corridor, there was an alcove
with a large window, and he hoisted himself onto the sill. He peered outside, but it was pitch-
dark, though far-off lights still twinkled in Hogsmeade.

"Trouble sleeping, Remus?"

If alcohol hadn't dulled his reflexes, Remus would have tumbled off the windowsill. Albus
Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the corridor, wearing a flamboyant purple
nightgown.

"Headmaster," said Remus, sitting up. "Sorry, I know it's past curfew — I'll go back to
Gryffindor Tower right away —"

"A wise choice," said Dumbledore genially. "I shall accompany you back."

Remus could think of nothing less awkward than spending time with the headmaster while
utterly pissed. But he couldn't very well say no, thank you. "I appreciate it, sir," he said,
hoping he seemed sufficiently sober.

If Dumbledore noticed the sour scent of Firewhisky that clung to Remus' jumper, he made no
comment. "Your final year at Hogwarts is coming to a close," he remarked as they walked
down the corridor. "Have you given any thought as to what comes next?"

"Er, my meeting with Professor McGonagall is next week," said Remus. "I think we'll talk
about my options then."

"Has anything in particular caught your interest?"

If Remus had been sober, he would have deflected the question. But it was late, and his mind
was foggy with sleep and drink. Besides, something told him that Dumbledore wouldn't
laugh at his aspirations. "When I met with Professor McGonagall in my fifth year, she
suggested that I could become a teacher," he said. "It seemed silly at the time, but now…"

Now he dared to hope for it. The idea had taken hold of him months ago — he wanted to help
other students the way Professor Prewett had helped him. If a vampire could safely teach at
Hogwarts, surely a werewolf could, too.

Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes crinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "You would
make an excellent teacher, Remus. Hogwarts would be lucky to have you."

There was a hint of melancholy in the headmaster's voice that drew Remus' attention. He
knew what that meant: he'd heard similar tones from the myriad of Healers his parents had
brought him to as a child. Professor Dumbledore was going to let him down.

All the hope Remus had gathered shattered inside him like a crystal ball. "It was just a
thought," he said, his tone perfectly indifferent, and he began to walk quickly, hoping to
outpace the headmaster.

Dumbledore's legs must have been exceptionally long beneath his sweeping purple
nightgown, because he had no trouble keeping up. He seemed to realise that Remus was
distressed, because he said, "I apologise, Remus. All the positions at Hogwarts for the
upcoming year have already been filled."

The casual admission stung more than outright rejection. You could have hired me if you
wanted to, thought Remus. You knew I was graduating.

"All of them, sir? You've even found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"

Dumbledore sighed. "That one, as usual, is a work in progress. I must admit that I have no
plans to place you in that position. I would prefer to keep you around for longer than a single
school year, you see."

Remus used his last bit of good judgement to remain silent. They rounded the corner, and the
portrait of the Fat Lady was in sight. "I've got it from here, Prof —" he began to say, but
Dumbledore cut him off.

"Perhaps there will be another chance in a few years, should you still desire to teach. In the
meantime, Remus, I have a proposal for you."

Remus very much wished that he could have had this conversation sober. "Yes, sir?"

"There is an organisation you may have heard of, called the Order of the Phoenix."
Dumbledore's blue eyes scrutinised Remus, presumably searching for recognition, but Remus
didn't react. After a moment, the headmaster continued.

"The Order consists of witches and wizards who wish to fight Lord Voldemort and his forces
in a more… direct manner. They use their considerable talents to thwart the Death Eaters
whenever possible. Often this involves protecting vulnerable Muggles and other likely targets
of Death Eater attacks. Sometimes, the Order simply performs damage control, after harm
has already been done." The Headmaster paused, but his eyes didn't stray from Remus' face.
"And occasionally, Remus, the Order engages in espionage."

Remus didn't know what the headmaster was asking of him. He only knew that his bones
ached and that he ought to be snogging Sirius senseless right now, not listening to a speech
about the sodding bloody Order. "What do you want from me, sir?"

Professor Dumbledore's eyes softened. "I see you are tired, so I shall cut to the chase. Lord
Voldemort has been recruiting non-human creatures to his cause, and the Order needs
somebody who can offer these beings a counterpoint. You have proven yourself a talented
wizard — someone who is capable of reaching across the aisle, so to speak. The Order could
use someone like you."

Remus felt like he was falling; he reached backwards to steady himself, his fingers scrabbling
against the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Professor Prewett told you about — about what I've
been doing."

It was only a hunch, but Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Fabian Prewett has kept me
appraised of your progress this year. You have shown exceptional bravery — first in Albania,
and later at Walpurgis Abbey. Your ability to mould yourself to those around you is
masterful, and you should be proud."

Remus wanted to screw his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears. This couldn't be real.
First Sirius, then Professor Prewett…

"I trusted him," he said aloud. "I — I thought we were alike. I thought Professor Prewett was
mentoring me because he saw something in me."

"He does, Remus," said Professor Dumbledore kindly. "He would not have recommended
you to me otherwise."

Remus shook his head. All the pieces were clicking into place, a horrible solution to
something he hadn't thought was a problem. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't buy that.
Everything with Professor Prewett this year… it's too much of a coincidence. You must have
asked him to — to plant the seeds, see if I would join the Order. Isn't that right?"

Behind them, the Fat Lady sucked in her breath at hearing the headmaster addressed with
such disrespect. Remus ignored her. "I should have known," he said. "Merlin, it's obvious
now. What're the odds that another part-human would just happen to teach my favourite class
and take an interest in me? I thought — I thought he was someone I could look up to. A
mentor. But he wasn't, was he? You put him in the right place at the right time. Like a chess
piece."

An unusual expression flashed across Dumbledore's aged face, so quickly that Remus
thought he might be seeing things. But there was no mistaking what he had glimpsed: for a
moment, the headmaster had looked genuinely wounded. "The bonds between you and
Fabian are as real as they were before we began this conversation. Do not doubt that he cares
for you, Remus."

He's not the one I'm doubting. But even in his intoxicated state, Remus knew that was a step
too far. "Did you know he was gay?" he asked, then let out a shaky little laugh. "Of course
you knew. His partner was in the Order, too. Merlin, it's so obvious now."

Dumbledore dropped the facade of unflappable cheer; his expression was inscrutable, but he
didn't seem to be enjoying the conversation any more than Remus was. "You are angry, as
you have a right to be. The hour is late, and I have given you unwelcome news. I merely ask
that you consider my offer, Remus. You could do tremendous good as a member of the Order
of the Phoenix."

Some offer, thought Remus. You've taken away every choice I thought I had. "And what if I
decline, sir?"

"I hope it shall not come to that. I believe you understand what is at stake, and how unique
your position is."

Remus knew an evasive answer when he heard one. "Let's say that I understand, and I
respectfully refuse. What then?"
"Then I shall remind you who it was that gave you a place in this castle. Refusing my offer
would be a poor form of repayment, indeed."

There was an edge to the headmaster's voice that made Remus' hair stand on end. This was
the wizard who had out-manoeuvred Gellert Grindelwald. Dumbledore was no stranger to
making hard calls. He may well have invited Remus to Hogwarts knowing this would
someday be the outcome: that he would have a werewolf in his debt, and Remus would be
powerless to say 'no'.

"I'll think about it," said Remus, because there was nothing else he could say. "Good night,
Professor."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Good night, Remus."

Back in the common room, Remus shoved through the crowd. He ignored James and Peter,
who waved at him from the sofa. There was only one person he wanted to see; one person
who, for all his faults, could make Remus forget about the conversation he'd had.

Sirius was in a corner, drink in hand, surrounded by people. He appeared to have just told a
joke: he was laughing, his head tipped back, and others were laughing with him.

Remus crashed into him like a wave breaking upon a rock. Sirius staggered backwards,
knocked off balance. "Moony, what —"

The rest of his sentence was lost as Remus put his hands to Sirius' face, drawing Sirius to
him. He kissed Sirius wildly, desperately, not caring that they had an audience. He needed
this. He wanted to lose himself, and he knew Sirius would be all too happy to oblige.

After a moment of confusion, Sirius recovered. He clutched Remus tightly with his free hand,
kissing him back with equal abandon. "What's gotten into you, Moony?" he murmured, his
breath warm against Remus' ear.

"Nothing. Let's get out of here."

Sirius handed his drink to a nearby fifth year and allowed Remus to lead him through the
crowd. As they neared the portrait hole, he pulled a familiar, battered-looking parchment
from his pocket. "Coast is clear," he said, scanning the Map. "Filch is on the third floor."

"Where's the headmaster?"

If Sirius thought the question odd, he gave no sign of it. "In his office."

"Good."

Once they were in the corridor, Sirius extricated himself from Remus' arms and looked at him
with concern. "You're sure everything's alright, Moony?"

Remus fumbled with the laces that held up the back of Sirius' Quidditch leathers. "No.
Everything's not alright."
"What —"

Remus silenced him with a kiss. "I don't want to talk about it. Please." If they talked about it,
he would have to be cautious, choose his words carefully. He was not in a careful mood.

Sirius pulled back, taking in the look on Remus' face. He nodded, and Remus nearly sighed
with relief; if anyone could understand reckless, it was Sirius Black.

"Alright," said Sirius. He put his hands on Remus' waist and steered them both down the
corridor, his Quidditch leathers sliding off his collarbone. "No talking tonight. Let's go find
that broom closet."
 Walpurgis Night Waltz
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

One week later, Lily was at her sister's wedding reception, watching James Potter astonish
the groomsmen by pulling a rabbit out of his top hat, at Vernon's request.

She was having a fabulous time, considering that the wedding was Petunia's, and that she
would be sneaking into Walpurgis Abbey in a few hours. In fact, this was perhaps the nicest
day she'd ever spent with her sister. During the ceremony, Petunia had been a vision in white,
and even stuffy Vernon's eyes had watered when he turned around on the altar to see her for
the first time. As much as Lily disliked them — both individually and as a couple — their
exchange of vows had been utterly heartfelt. She'd nearly been moved.

Perhaps there really is somebody out there for everyone, she ruminated, swirling the
champagne in her flute. Her eyes drifted back to James. He was wearing a Muggle suit,
which he'd Transfigured from a set of dress robes, and he looked so good it was distracting.
The suit accentuated the way his body tapered from broad shoulders to toned waist; she'd
spent most of the ceremony trying to drink him in from the corner of her eye. If she'd known
he looked like this under his robes, maybe it wouldn't have taken her seven years to fall for
him.

He looks better than any of the groomsmen, she thought, draining the last bit of champagne in
her flute. The groomsmen in question were chasing the rabbit across the dance floor, while
James and Vernon looked on, amused.

"I like him," said Lily's mum, who was seated next to her. She nodded at James.

"So do I." Heat rose up Lily's neck, and she knew better than to think it was from the alcohol.

"When did you two start dating? He was 'just a friend' over the Christmas holidays, wasn't
he?"

Lily smiled. "I think that was about the time we realised how stupid we were being."

Her mum reached for Lily's hand and squeezed. "Seeing you happy makes me happy."

"Tuney's happy, too. She looks radiant."

"Doesn't she?" They turned to look at Petunia, who was seated a short distance away, greeting
a handful of her old classmates.

"If Vernon doesn't treat her right, I'll kill him," said Lily.

"If that happens, I give you full permission to bury him in the flower garden."
Lily laughed and rose from the table. "I'm getting another drink. Do you want one?" But her
mum shook her head, gesturing to a glass that was still half full.

A few minutes later, Lily returned to her seat to find that James was already in it.

"…and there's nobody who can brew potions like her," he was saying animatedly to her mum.
"I dunno how it's possible to be good at everything, but she manages it, even —"

Lily put a hand on his shoulder. "What are you two chatting about?"

"James was telling me what an incredible student you are," said her mum.

"Is he, now?" Lily raised her eyebrows. "Did he tell you about what a terrible student he is?"

"I'm not terrible!" said James. "Don't give your mum ideas."

"You never read the textbooks," said Lily, taking the chair beside him.

"That's because they haven't been updated since the seventeenth century. I got eight O.W.L.s,
didn't I?"

Lily made a non-committal noise, and James' eyes bulged.

"I did get eight O.W.L.s! Tell your mum — she's gonna get the wrong impression —"

Lily winked. "James tries to be a bad student, but he's too smart to manage it," she said to her
mum. "He could pass his N.E.W.T.s in his sleep. It's a bit unfair, really."

"I'm more impressed that he's won Vernon over," replied her mum. "That takes real skill."

James ran a hand through his hair, abashed. "Aw, Vern's alright. He likes my magic tricks,
says he can't figure out how I manage them. D'you know, he thinks if I keep practising, I may
have what it takes to become a professional magician…"

Lily's mum laughed along with James. Lily sipped her champagne, smiling. James was so
good at making people feel at ease; her mum loved him already. She had no doubt he'd win
over Petunia, too, in time.

The other guests began to cheer, and Lily turned to look. Petunia and Vernon had risen to cut
the cake, a heinous, six-tiered monstrosity slathered in heavy white fondant. Petunia held the
knife, and Vernon put his large hand over hers. Together, they cut the first slice, and the
guests applauded.

"What sort of cake is that?" asked James, clapping loudly.

"It's a fruitcake," said Lily. "It's got dried fruits and sherry in it."

"Is that… is that good?"

"Depends on your definition," said Lily, and he laughed.

Fifteen minutes later, it was clear that the fruitcake was not to James' taste. He valiantly
cleared his plate anyway, then grabbed Lily's champagne flute to wash it down.

"What did you think?" asked her mother shrewdly.

James swallowed thickly. "Oh, er — delicious. Are there seconds?"

Why was he doubling down? Boys. "You don't have to —" said Lily, but James was already
helping himself to another slice of fruitcake.

"I like it," he said through an exaggerated bite.

"No, you don't. You're practically gagging."

"Maybe." He shovelled another forkful into his mouth. "But if I eat enough, I bet I'll learn to
like it." He glanced at Lily's mum, who was watching Petunia feed Vernon a bite of cake.
"We'll have to eat this, won't we?" he asked Lily, lowering his voice. "If we get married?"

Lily's stomach swooped, like she'd just missed a trick stair. "It is traditional."

"I'd better develop a taste for it, then. Since everyone will be watching me eat."

He spoke so confidently about their future that Lily could picture it. "We can always order a
different kind of cake."

"I want this one."

"You are so stubborn."

"That's the cauldron calling the kettle black, you know."

Across the room, the band struck up a beat, and the lead singer began to croon a meandering
tune. The first dance, thought Lily. Grief struck her like a hard blow to the chest; she
suddenly missed her father terribly.

On the dance floor, Vernon was leading Petunia by the hand. A lump rose in Lily's throat as
she watched them waltz together. Dad should have been here, she thought. He should be
celebrating with us.

She glanced at her mum, who was swaying slowly to the beat. Her mum's eyes were glassy
with tears, but she smiled at Lily and took her hand.

"I wish Dad —" began Lily.

Her mum stroked her hand. "He's here, love. Can't you feel him?"

Together, they watched Petunia twirl around the dance floor. She only had eyes for Vernon,
her expression rapt. Petunia was a graceful dancer — she was graceful in most things — and
though dancing was clearly not Vernon's strong suit, he managed to keep up.
When the song ended, Lily and her mum clapped loudest of all.

The band struck up a new, upbeat tune, and other couples began to filter onto the dance floor.
"Our turn," Lily said to James.

He frowned and leaned forward to wipe a tear that was threatening to spill from her eye. "Are
you sure? We don't have to if you don't feel like it."

"Please. Dancing will make me feel better."

"Then your wish is my command." He rose and helped her to her feet. "I'm a great dance
partner, have I ever told you?"

Lily snorted in spite of herself. "Of course you are."

James steered her onto the dance floor, hand on the small of her back. "You miss your dad,"
he said matter-of-factly.

Her lips tightened. "I wish he could see how happy Tuney is. I wish he could have met
Vernon."

James put his arms around her, holding her tightly. "Your mum is right. I'm sure your dad is
here today. He's got to be so proud of both his daughters."

Lily pressed her cheek against James' chest. "Stop it. You really will make me cry."

"Sorry, sorry." He rested his chin on her head and they spun in a slow circle on the dance
floor. They were out of rhythm with the lively tempo of the music, but she didn't care.

The song ended, and she stood on her toes to kiss him on the lips. "Thank you," she said as
the band began to play another song. "I feel better. Are you ready to dance for real?"

"I was born ready." James spun her to face the same direction he was, then began to lead her
through an odd sort of ballroom dance. The steps were slow and deliberate, and before long
they were out of time with the music again.

Lily tried to move faster, but he didn't seem inclined to pick up the pace. After a moment, she
said, "James?"

"Yes?"

"What sort of dance are we doing?"

"The schottische," he said promptly.

She burst into laughter, her tears forgotten. "I've never even heard of that!"

"No? It's a classic!"

"For wizards, maybe." She turned to face him and took his hands in hers. "Have you ever
heard of something called disco?"

"'Disco is a popular modern genre of dance music. It evolved in the late sixties as an
alternative to rock music, the dominant sound of the decade.'"

Lily grinned. "So you do read the Muggle Studies textbook."

"I peruse it now and again."

"This music is disco." She began to dance, showing him how to move like the other couples.
"Do you know this song?"

"Er, no."

"Really? But it's so popular!"

James copied her movements; he honestly wasn't bad at it. "Am I doing this right?"

"Pretty good, for a wizard."

He smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You'll have to teach me the schottische at the Knight's Masquerade," she said, and he tripped
over his own feet.

"The masquerade. Right." James ruffled his hair, looking suddenly worried. "Forgot about
that for a minute."

"One thing at a time." Lily took his hands and coaxed him back into dancing with her.

"It is odd, though, isn't it?" he said, coming close so that nobody would overhear. "We're
surrounded by Muggles now, but in a bit we'll be dancing with Death Eaters."

"Let's not talk about it," she said. "God knows we've gone over the plan enough this week.
Let's just enjoy my sister's wedding."

He nodded and leaned forward, brushing his lips across her cheek. "You're a wise witch, Lily
Evans."

They spent the next hour getting lost in the rhythm of the music and the movement of each
other's bodies. By the time they paused for breath, James had learned the conga and the
bunny hop, and could twist as well as any Muggle boy. Lily tried to memorise every moment:
the exhilaration that filled her as they spun about the dance floor, the wide smile that wouldn't
leave his face, his rough hands catching her, guiding her, letting go, then catching again.

She couldn't take her eyes off his grin. He was joy incarnate; she could have danced with him
for the rest of her life.
I love you, thought Lily. The certainty filled her from her toes to the top of her head, warm
like Butterbeer and just as intoxicating. She loved James when he was dancing, when he was
laughing, when he was sleeping with his glasses askew. And she loved him all the moments
in between. She was in love with him, and she always would be.

"Alright, Evans? You're staring."

She couldn't tell him now. Not when they were surrounded by other people, not in front of
her own mum and sister. Instead, she said, "I'm mad about you." That was close enough to
the three words she really meant.

His grin grew even broader, and he cupped her face, kissing her deeply. His lips were
achingly tender, and she knew: he loved her, too. They were meant to be together the way the
sun was meant to rise.

James drew back, pushing the hair off his sweaty brow. "Shall we sit for a minute?"

Lily glanced at her watch and groaned. Back to reality. "Can't. It's time to go."

"Already?"

"It's half past eight. The masquerade started thirty minutes ago."

They looked at each other, and she could tell he was thinking the same as her. Let's just stay a
little longer. It had been such a wonderful evening; neither of them were ready to break the
spell.

"We have to go," said Lily, because if she didn't, they would never leave. "The others are
counting on us."

James shook his head a little, coming to his senses. "You're right. Of course. Let's go."

They kissed Lily's mum goodbye and bid Petunia and Vernon a happy honeymoon in France,
then went out to the dark, quiet street. Lily sighed as James Untransfigured his suit into dress
robes.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"That suit fits you so well."

"So do these dress robes!" he said indignantly. "I even had them tailored!"

"James. You looked sexy in that suit."

His eyebrows jumped, and he pulled at the collar of his robes. "Did I?"

"Considering the way I was drooling over you all night, yes. Definitely yes."

His expression grew sly. "You were drooling over me?"

He looked like he was half a second away from snogging her, so she said, "Focus, Prongs."

The nickname had the intended effect. "You can't call me that!"

"Well, I just did. And it's a good thing you're wearing those robes to the masquerade. Less
chance I'll get distracted that way."

"Are you saying these robes aren't sexy?"

"They're ridiculous."

"You wouldn't say that if you were a pure-blood," said James, wagging a finger at her. "I bet
all the Death Eaters will be falling over themselves to dance with me."

Lily laughed. "I hope not. We're supposed to be under the Invisibility Cloak the entire time.
Though I have some extra Polyjuice if that doesn't pan out." She reached into her red suede
bag — it felt like sticking her hand into a black hole, thanks to the Undetectable Extension
Charm — and pulled out a tiny vial containing a single golden droplet. "Drink your Felix
Felicis and let's get out of here."

James swallowed the potion obediently, and she did the same with an identical vial. At first,
nothing happened; after a moment, a subtle feeling of confidence and well-being grew over
her. "Huh," said Lily.

"What?"

It feels like falling in love, only weaker. "Nothing. I just thought taking Liquid Luck would
feel… incredible. Out-of-this-world."

James examined his hands, considering what she'd said. "I see what you mean. It's nice, don't
get me wrong, but…"

"Dancing with you was nicer."

He grinned. "Exactly."

She pulled a set of black dress robes out of her bag and hurriedly changed into them. "Have
you got the Portkey?"

"Working on it." James withdrew a sticky-looking white block from his pocket.

It took Lily a moment to realise what she was looking at. "Did you nick a slice of fruitcake?
To turn into a Portkey?"

"Clever, right? We can snack on it once we get there." James set the mess of cake on the
pavement and tapped it with his wand. "Portus."

He looked up at her, his eyes like two large, dark pools in the dim light. Her stomach did a
little flip. "I think I'm full, anyway," she said, crouching beside him. "Or maybe just
nervous."
"Hey." He put a hand on the back of her neck and brought her close for a kiss. "Everything's
going to be fine. We'll sneak in, meet up with the others, get the diadem, and sneak out. If
things get hairy, I'll make us another Portkey and we'll get out of there."

"I'm sorry we can't Apparate. It would be so much eas—"

He silenced her with another kiss. "Portkeys are easy enough. This one took me five seconds.
Besides, there's probably enchantments preventing direct Apparition into or out of the
Abbey."

That was the same reason they were taking a Portkey to the village outside Walpurgis Abbey,
then walking to the gates on foot. "Alright," said Lily. She still hated that she was holding
him back from Apparating, but that guilt wouldn't help them during the heist. "Let's go,
then."

James took her hand in his. "Ready? One… two… three —"

They touched the Portkey.

Lily jerked forward, as though something had hooked her by the navel, pulling her into space.
No turning back now, she thought.

They vanished from the street without so much as a sound.

Three hundred miles away, Remus appeared on the outskirts of a sleepy Muggle village,
clutching a large, black dog in one arm and a sandy rat in the other. Though the sun had
barely set, it was already pitch dark, and the air was heavy with the threat of rain. A rumble
from above told him there were storm clouds overhead.

"Go on," he said to Padfoot, pushing the dog off the gravel path and towards the tall brambles
growing beside the lane. "I'll see you later."

The dog wagged its tail obediently and trotted off the road, disappearing into the woods.

Remus drew his wand and Disillusioned the rat. He placed Peter carefully into the pocket of
his dress robes. "Second verse, same as the first. Ready, Wormtail?"

From his pocket came a small but determined squeak.

Remus began the long walk up the sloping gravel path, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the
darkness. Hopefully the rain would hold off until after James and Lily arrived at the abbey.
They'd be sneaking in under the Invisibility Cloak, but their cover would be blown if they left
a trail of muddy footprints behind them.
A faint crunching sound came from further up the path — boots treading on gravel. Remus
quickened his pace.

Several yards ahead of him, a tall, muscular figure in black robes marched towards the castle.
Remus strained his ears, listening for more footsteps, but there weren't any. He and the Death
Eater were alone on the road.

Remus pulled out his mask, golden and shaped like the head of a wolf. No room for subtlety
tonight, he thought. The mask adhered to his face without strings or ribbon, magically
moulding to the contour of his cheekbones.

Remus quickened his step. The Death Eater turned at the sound of someone approaching; he
was wearing a Venetian-style mask with a black teardrop beneath one eye.

Not a true Death Eater, then, or he'd have the carved silver mask they all wore. Anyone who
willingly attended the masquerade was Death Eater enough, though.

"Here for the ball?" asked Remus.

The man nodded stiffly. "Do you know where you're going? I was told to look for the castle
on the hill, but it's so damn dark, can't see a thing…"

"This way," said Remus smoothly. He touched his wand to the back of the man's neck.
"Somnolus."

The man's eyelids drifted shut. He crumpled to the ground, deeply asleep.

A nearby bush rustled, and Padfoot bounded into the lane. The great black dog grabbed the
man by his robes, dragging him into the woods.

Remus followed. Once they were well off the path, Padfoot positioned the man at the base of
a tree. Remus knelt, withdrawing a rose-coloured potion from his pocket. He tilted the Death
Eater's head back and poured the Draught of Living Death into the man's slack mouth.

By Remus' calculations, the man would wake up a week after the masquerade. Though
depending on what sort of beasts roamed these woods, he might not wake at all.

Remus drew his wand and cut off a lock of the man's hair, then dropped it into a phial of
thick, churning brown liquid. "Drink up, Padfoot."

The dog sat up, limbs elongating, until Sirius was at his side. "Cheers," he said, taking the
Polyjuice Potion from Remus.

"Got any idea who this bloke is?" Remus removed the Death Eater's mask. The man was in
his mid-fifties, with a broad face and thick eyebrows. He looked filthy rich and mean as hell.

"Might be a Bulstrode," said Sirius with a glance. "He's got the jaw." He downed the
Polyjuice Potion in a single gulp and shuddered. "Horrible. Definitely a Bulstrode."
As Sirius' body began to enlarge, Remus busied himself with removing the man's robes. He
fished around in the pockets until his fingers caught a smooth square of parchment.

He scanned the invitation. "You were right," he said to Sirius. "This is addressed to Heathcote
Bulstrode."

"See?" Sirius had finished transforming; his voice was deeper, older, but still smug. "I know
my pure-blood families."

Remus gave Sirius the invitation and the black teardrop mask, along with the man's hawthorn
wand.

"Hawthorn," said Sirius scathingly as he donned the mask. "Fickle, weak wood. Where's my
wand?"

"I've got it here," said Remus, handing it over. As a final precaution, he Conjured a set of
ropes to bind Heathcote Bulstrode's hands and feet. Once finished, he and Sirius returned to
the gravel path and continued the uphill march to Walpurgis Abbey.

When they reached the wrought iron fence surrounding the abbey, there was a small crowd
waiting outside the basilisk-topped gate. All wore black dress robes and a variety of masks;
Remus looked, but he didn't recognise anyone.

Not that I know many Death Eaters, anyway, he thought.

The guards at the gate examined each person's invitation individually; they glanced over
Remus' and Sirius' invitations without a second look. At last, the guards waved their wands,
and the stone basilisk shifted as the gate swung open.

Remus and Sirius stepped onto the grounds of Walpurgis Abbey. The expansive gardens had
been transformed for the masquerade; floating candles shed warm light on fountains and
well-trodden footpaths, and the perfectly-trimmed hedges were decked in fairy lights. Despite
the threat of rain, there were dozens of guests milling about, chatting by the burbling
fountains and touring the various maze-like gardens. Everybody was well-dressed, and most
had a drink in hand. Most startlingly of all, they looked happy.

This must be the biggest social event of the year, thought Remus. No wonder the Death
Eaters were gathering so much support; he'd never known evil could look so beautiful.

The front doors of the abbey were still guarded by two leashed Chimaeras, but the beasts
looked sleepier than the last time Remus had seen them. Perhaps they had been sedated to
prevent any unfortunate incidents with the guests.

Once again, the guards waited until a small crowd had gathered before pushing the massive
doors open. As Remus passed through the narrow, high-ceilinged entrance hall, he was very
glad to be wearing a mask; he couldn't keep his eyes from widening at the abbey's
transformation.
The main hall had been turned into a ballroom: silver and gold drapes hung from the walls,
and the marble floor's golden starbursts gleamed under his feet. The place was packed with
guests, all in their finest robes; their masks and jewellery sparkled with light from the ornate
chandeliers. It was a ball fit for a king.

Or a Lord, thought Remus with a glance at the balustrade on the first floor. Black-robed
Death Eaters in silver masks loomed over the bannister, silent and watchful. Waiting.

There was a live orchestra at the far end of the hall, in front of the door that led to the
basement. A violinist struck up a lively, classical melody, and people began to dance. The
tune was familiar, but Remus didn't know the name of it.

Sirius would, though. Remus turned to ask him what song it was, but he was nowhere to be
seen.

He's probably casing the place, like you should be doing, Remus chided himself. He
wandered towards the marble staircase, keeping close to the wall, and pretended to admire
the portraits in their heavy, gilded frames. Once he was close to the stairs, he stooped down,
pretending to tie his shoe.

That was Peter's cue. Remus' pocket grew slightly lighter as the rat jumped out, invisible
under the Disillusionment Charm, and scurried silently up the stairs.

Godspeed, Wormtail, thought Remus. A house-elf balancing a tray of drinks on its head
tottered past, and he plucked a flute of champagne from the platter. He sipped it slowly,
watching the dancing guests and running over the plan in his mind.

If all went well, Peter would go straight to the war room, check that it was empty, and wait
for James and Lily to meet up with him. James would then call Sirius on the two-way mirror.
That was the signal for Remus and Sirius to run interference, preventing anyone else from
climbing the staircase, while the other Marauders nicked the diadem. On their way out,
James, Lily, and Peter would sneak through the main hall — under the Invisibility Cloak, of
course — and James would whisper 'mischief managed' to Sirius. Then they would all leave
the same way they had entered: through the wrought iron gate, down to the village, and back
to Hogwarts.

The champagne fizzed on Remus' tongue as he observed the party. So many women were
wearing diamonds; the gems glittered on ears, wrists, and throats. So many men were flirting,
laughing, carrying on. The atmosphere was intoxicating. For the first time, he understood
how these pure-bloods could forget that all their wealth and happiness came at the expense of
Muggles and Muggle-borns.

A tall, pale figure in the centre of the dance floor caught his eye. Sanguini's face was covered
by a black mask, but there was no mistaking the vampire; he was waltzing with an ethereal
blonde woman who could only have been a Veela.

If Sanguini was here, was Fenrir Greyback in attendance, as well? He'd invited Remus, after
all. Remus craned his neck, but the long-haired, loose-limbed werewolf was nowhere to be
seen in the crowd.
Remus did see Bellatrix Lestrange, though. She was standing by the staircase, wearing a
porcelain doll mask that covered her entire face, with large holes for her eyes. Her black
dress robes were lacy and intricate, giving no clues as to where she might be keeping the key
to the vault. Suppose she didn't have it on her person? Then Sirius' plan would be for nothing.

We'll still get the diadem, though, thought Remus. He continued to watch Bellatrix; she was
speaking to a dark-haired couple that might have been Sirius' parents. He'd only ever seen
them a few times on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, but this couple was the right age, at
least.

A broad-shouldered man in a mask with a black teardrop beneath one eye approached him.
"You're not going to dance?"

It took Remus a moment to remember that this was Sirius in disguise. They'd agreed to act
like strangers to one another, so Remus lifted a shoulder, feigning indifference to Sirius'
presence. "I haven't got a dance partner, I'm afraid."

"Nor have I." There was an ironic twist to the man's lips that Remus knew well.

Remus took a sip of champagne and shook his head. "You're more than twice my age, if I had
to guess, and you're a man. Dancing with you would be a scandal."

"Nothing wrong with a little scandal. And you're forgetting." The man — Sirius — reached
out, running a finger along the edge of Remus' wolf mask. "We are anonymous tonight."

"You're very persuasive," said Remus as the band in the corner began to play a slow, stately
tune. He allowed Sirius to guide him onto the dance floor, weaving between waltzing
couples. Sirius put a broad hand against Remus' back and began to lead him through the
dance.

"You're quite good at this," commented Remus as they turned in wide circles around the
room.

"When you're as old as I am, you get plenty of practice," replied Sirius.

Remus had to fight to keep a straight face.

As they danced, Remus wished they weren't pretending to be strangers. He longed to close
the inches of space between them and rest his head on Sirius' shoulder. Thankfully, none of
the guests seemed to care that two men were waltzing together; they were too wrapped up in
their own worlds, dancing and laughing and having sparkling conversations.

He dared to lean forward, whispering into Sirius' ear. "I saw Bellatrix. Your parents, too, I
think."

The man's jaw tightened. When he spoke, his mouth barely moved. "Where?"

"By the staircase, on the left."

Sirius didn't respond, but his hand on Remus' back tensed, and they changed directions. "I
saw Augustus Mulciber," he said at last.

"You're certain?"

"I couldn't forget that river troll if I tried. He was wearing a silver mask, peering over the
bannister on the floor above. Then he vanished."

Remus mulled this over as they drew closer to the marble staircase. "He must have joined the
Death Eaters after being expelled last year. I wonder why he isn't enjoying the masquerade
with everyone else?"

"Maybe he's working. Standing guard, or something."

"Maybe."

They were mere feet away, now, from where Bellatrix stood with a small group of people.
She was talking to a young man in a long-beaked bird mask while two hulking Death Eaters
in silver masks looked on. The young man's curly brown hair was oddly familiar; through the
slits in the bird mask, his green eyes flicked towards Remus, as if he knew Remus had been
watching.

Bartemius Crouch Junior.

"Fuck," breathed Remus, but Sirius didn't hear. He had dropped his hand from Remus' lower
back and was striding confidently towards Bellatrix.

Remus stood uselessly on the dance floor while Sirius bent low to brush his lips across
Bellatrix's hand. He murmured a few words, too softly for Remus to hear, and Bellatrix's eyes
sparkled with amusement. He led her onto the dance floor, her delicate hand resting atop his
broad one; they floated past Remus as if he didn't exist.

"Need a new dance partner?" said a knowing voice in Remus' ear.

Bartemius. Crouch. Junior.

Remus closed his eyes briefly before responding. "I think I'm tired of dancing, thank you
very much."

"Oh, don't be like that," said Crouch. "You looked just fine waltzing with that ancient fellow
a moment ago."

Ancient? Heathcote Bulstrode hadn't even begun to grey yet. "I doubt you and I are
compatible," said Remus.

"But we have so much to talk about," said Crouch, taking Remus smoothly by the waist.

Remus found he couldn't wiggle out of Crouch's grasp without making a scene, so he forced
himself to go along as Crouch steered him to the dance floor. "You're mistaken, I'm afraid. I
haven't got anything to say to you."
"Ah, but I have something to say to you." Crouch's smile was barely visible beneath the bird's
beak mask; his tongue wet the corner of his lip. "I was right about you, wasn't I?"

Remus kept his tone indifferent. "Were you?"

"I knew you weren't human. Very nearly confirmed it, too, very nearly… if that Snape hadn't
gotten in the way…"

Remus had no idea what Crouch was talking about, but he wasn't about to let on. "Yes, well,
he does that."

Crouch let go of Remus' waist long enough to tap the wolf mask, right between Remus'
eyebrows. "I've got your number now, though. Werewolf."

"A wolf-shaped mask hardly makes me a werewolf," said Remus lightly. Sirius and Bellatrix
danced past them, robes swirling as he spun her and led her into a deep dip.

Crouch waved a hand. "That's alright. I don't need to prove it. Just needed to know enough to
satisfy my curiosity."

"You find me more interesting than most," said Remus.

Crouch's tongue flicked out of his mouth again. "That's because most people don't look
properly. I won't tell, by the way — rumour is I've got a shot at Head Boy, and I would hate
to endanger my chances."

"Very pragmatic of you," said Remus. He felt like he needed a shower; he wanted to scrub at
the places where Crouch had touched him.

The song they were waltzing to ended, and he was saved from another dance with Crouch by
Bellatrix Lestrange, of all people. She curtsied to them, batting her eyelashes in a manner
more enthralling than any spell. Crouch extended a hand to her dutifully, and she whisked
him away, leaving Remus without a dance partner once again.

A hand landed on Remus' shoulder. "I've had enough of dancing," said Sirius in Heathcote's
deep voice. His eyes shone with triumph; he must have successfully nicked Bellatrix's key to
the vault. "Shall we find a place to rest? Somewhere private?"

"Let's." Remus slipped his wand out of his sleeve and pointed upwards. Fireworks shot into
the air, sending a shower of silver and gold sparks raining onto the dance floor. Hundreds of
heads turned, and applause filled the hall as people looked up, awed by the spectacle.

Remus and Sirius took advantage of the distraction, slipping behind the orchestra and pulling
open the door to the basement. Somewhere deep in the abbey, a bell tolled as they descended
the stairs.

Remus counted the chimes. "It's nine o'clock," he whispered. "James and Lily have probably
arrived by now. He should be calling you on the mirror soon."

"We've got plenty of time," replied Sirius.

"Really? A handful of minutes is plenty of time to find the goblin, open the vault, and take
what's inside?"

"Sure, if we're fast. Besides, James and the others won't mind if we're a few minutes late.
Especially when we tell them what we've done."

Remus wasn't so certain, but it was too late to back out. "There's going be a guard at the
bottom of the staircase," he reminded Sirius. "Stun him as soon as you have eyes on him…"

But there was nobody at the foot of the stairs. Four empty corridors stretched out in front of
them; they were completely alone in the basement.

The hair on the back of Remus' neck prickled. Surely there should have been more security
for the Knight's Masquerade, not less. "Well, the kitchens are this way," he said, gesturing to
the left.

When they reached the door at the end of the corridor, he Transfigured a peephole and peered
into the kitchens. Everything looked just as it had during the banquet; crowded rows of
house-elves stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the factory-like kitchen, preparing food and drink
for the masquerade above.

"D'you see the goblin from before?" asked Sirius. "The one who opened the vault with
Bellatrix?"

Remus squinted. "I'm not sure. There's plenty of goblins, it's difficult to tell them apart…"

"We have to go inside," said Sirius. "Pretend we're there on my cousin's orders. Once the
goblin comes with us, we'll…"

We'll get him to open the vault, finished Remus silently. That was the plan, but he wasn't
certain what it would take for the goblin to agree. There were many morally dubious ways to
compel the goblin, but neither he nor Sirius had wanted to hash those out in detail.

Holding his breath, Remus pushed the door to the kitchens open, and they stepped inside. He
expected the assembly lines to grind to a halt — surely the house-elves would know they
were intruders, surely they would sound the alarm — but the house-elves continued working
without so much as a glance at the door.

Sirius crooked a finger at a nearby goblin, trying to get his attention, but the goblin marched
away, scribbling on a clipboard. "Pardon me," said Sirius, but the goblin didn't turn. "Excuse
me," he said a little louder. "I'm —"

"Need somethin', eh?" said a gruff voice to the right.

That didn't sound like any goblin Remus had ever heard. He turned; eight Death Eaters in
silver masks were seated at a table in the corner, which hadn't been visible from the peephole.
The table was littered with bottles of mead and playing cards.

Time to back away slowly. Remus raised his hands, palms facing out. "It appears we've gotten
turned around —"
 But Sirius had already drawn his wand. "Stupefy!"

"Sirius, no," cried Remus, but it was too late. The jet of red light hit one of the Death Eaters
in the neck, and his head snapped to the side as he flew through the air. The Death Eater
landed heavily on a nearby worktop, scattering the house-elves and knocking an avalanche of
diced vegetables to the floor. Whatever magic made the assembly line work applied to the
Death Eater, too; the man was pulled down the long worktop and into the gargantuan roasting
oven at the end of the room.

The kitchen erupted into chaos as house-elves and goblins scrambled for safety. The
remaining Death Eaters pulled out their wands. Sirius was already firing off hex after hex, but
the Death Eaters deflected his spells readily.

Seven on two. Remus didn't like those odds. But it was either escape alive or die trying, so he
raised his wand and charged forward, ready to join the fight.

Chapter End Notes

Petunia and Vernon's first dance was to Let's Stay Together by Al Green, in case you
were wondering :)
 Inside the Vault

On the first floor of Walpurgis Abbey, Severus was sitting between Regulus and Avery on a
cold stone bench. He stared at the skin of his left forearm, wondering how long it would be
until they were Marked.

When they had arrived at Walpurgis Abbey, wearing identical black masks, several guards
had been waiting for them at the gate. Instead of going through the main doors of the abbey,
Severus and the others had been whisked through a side entrance and up a twisting staircase
to the first floor. The guards had instructed them to wait on the stone bench; the Dark Lord
would send for them when he was ready.

That had been over an hour ago. Apparently, the Dark Lord had more important things to do
than Mark a few of his teenage Followers.

Well, Severus knew how to be patient. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the
wall, listening to the music wafting up from the main hall below. After a moment, Regulus'
robes brushed softly against him.

Severus cracked an eye open. Regulus had gone to the bannister, inserting himself between a
pair of guards and peering over the railing at the masquerade below.

"Catch a glimpse of the Dark Lord?" asked Severus once Regulus returned to the bench.

Regulus shook his head. "I can't be certain — everyone's in masks, you know — but I don't
think he's dancing, at least."

A corner of Severus' lip rose. "The Dark Lord, doing the foxtrot. That would be a sight."

A masked, broad-shouldered Death Eater clomped up the marble staircase, followed by a

young man with curly hair and a bird mask. The Death Eater halted in front of the bench, and
the young man behind him did the same. "The Dark Lord will see you now," the Death Eater
said to Severus. His deep voice was irritatingly familiar.

Severus frowned. "Mulciber?"

"Good to see you, Sev," said the Death Eater smugly.

"Likewise." Sarcasm dripped from Severus' voice. "So this is where you went after getting
expelled from Hogwarts. How do you like being the Dark Lord's errand boy?"

The jab rolled off Mulciber's back like water. "Beats living in a dirty castle filled with
Mudbloods, I'll tell you that much."

The boy in the bird mask let out a soft huff of a laugh. Avery pointed at him, tugging on
Severus' sleeve. "Who's he, Sev?"
"You don't recognise him, Edmund?" Mulciber sounded amused. "I'm surprised. He's a
Hogwarts student… and a Follower."

Not possible. "I thought we were the only Followers at Hogwarts," said Severus slowly.

Beneath the bird mask, the boy's mouth curled into a smirk. "Bella's been giving me private
lessons."

Jealousy curdled Severus' stomach, acidic and sour. He could count the words Bella had
spoken to him recently on one hand.

Mulciber led them down a corridor and rapped on one of the doors. The door swung open of
its own accord, and Mulciber stepped inside, gesturing for them to follow.

Inside the room, four huge statues loomed in each corner, like hulking bodyguards. Their
stony gazes were fixed on a long wooden table with a three-dimensional, intricately carved
surface. At the head of the table, a tall figure in a hooded cloak was bent low, examining a
carved wooden castle set into a mountain range.

Mulciber bowed deeply and cleared his throat. "The Hogwarts students, my Lord."

The figure straightened, lifting bone-white hands. Severus stared as the Dark Lord lowered
his hood, revealing a skull-like face with slitted pupils and hollows where a nose should have
been.

"Thank you, Augustus," said Voldemort smoothly. "You may leave."

Still in a deep bow, Mulciber backed out of the room. The door shut with a thud.

Lord Voldemort surveyed the Followers for a long minute, perhaps wondering if they were
worth the trouble of Marking. "Remove your masks."

Severus did so. As he stuffed his mask in his pocket, he glanced at the boy with curly hair. He
was a bit younger than Severus — certainly the right age to be a Hogwarts student — but
Severus didn't recognise him at all.

Regulus, however, seemed to know exactly who this was. He blinked rapidly, as though he
couldn't believe his eyes. "Crouch? Bartemius Crouch?"

Where had Severus heard that name before?

"Barty," corrected the boy.

Regulus shook his head. "But you… you're…"

"A prefect?" said Crouch. "So are you and Avery. Is that really so surprising?"

"But — your father, he's —"

"My father isn't worth the breath you waste on him."

That's where Severus had heard the name. This boy's father was the Head of the Department
of Magical Law Enforcement, and he was often in the papers. He had a reputation for being
intense, even ruthless — the embodiment of ends justifying the means. Judging by Barty
Crouch's haughty, dismissive manner, the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"I don't understand," said Regulus to Crouch. "Why would you —"

"Not now, Regulus," said Severus through tight lips. This conversation was pointless, a waste
of the Dark Lord's time. But when Severus glanced at the head of the table, Lord Voldemort
was watching them with interest, an amused smile on his bloodless mouth.

If the Dark Lord was letting them speak, then Severus had something to say. "It was you," he
said to Crouch. "You're the one who was Imperiusing people at school."

"Bit late on the uptake, aren't you?" Crouch sounded bored. "That's hardly an impressive
deduction at this point. You're not as clever as I've been told."

Severus rankled at the insult, but he wasn't about to reveal his irritation. "What was the point?
And why us? Hogwarts is full of half-bloods and blood traitors, but you targeted Edmund and
Regulus."

Crouch shrugged. "I did go after the Mudbloods, if you remember. But I couldn't curse them
myself — didn't want to get expelled like stupid old Mulciber." He grinned viciously. "So I
needed a proxy. And there you were."

"But we're Followers," hissed Severus. "We're on the same side."

Crouch snapped his fingers. "Exactly! You should've been the ones cursing the Mudbloods.
Hogwarts needs purifying, and you should've done it. But you didn't. You kept your heads
down like the cowards you are, too scared of getting caught."

"I don't deny that Hogwarts needs purifying," said Severus. "But I fail to see how
Imperiusing Regulus to tail Remus Lupin serves the cause."

"Oh, that?" Crouch cocked his head slightly too far to the side, giving the impression his neck
had been snapped. "Regulus helped me confirm something I'd been wondering about for a
while. Remus Lupin is a werewolf, you see. Or didn't you know?"

A high, cold laugh rang out. The Dark Lord's waxy skin was pulled into a grin. "He did
know," said Voldemort softly, eyeing Severus. "He knew and did nothing… he let the beast
roam the corridors unchecked…"

Severus bowed his head so his chin nearly touched his chest. "My sincerest apologies, my
Lord. I was not aware that you would prefer I deal with the werewolf. When I return to
Hogwarts, I shall —"

"There is no need," said Lord Voldemort. "It so happens that Remus Lupin is here at my
invitation."
The werewolf had been invited to the masquerade? That must have been a joke — except
something told Severus the Dark Lord was incapable of joking.

"I expect Lupin shall become a Follower as well," continued Voldemort. "Though he will not
take the Mark. The spell only works on humans, you see. Speaking of which…"

He stepped around the table and advanced on the Followers. He held his yew wand lightly, as
though it were a quill, not an instrument used to torture and kill.

"It is time to receive your reward," whispered Lord Voldemort.

"Sirius Black." James shook the two-way mirror as though that would make it work. His own
reflection gazed back at him, thick brows creased with worry. "Sirius Orion Black."

Lily bit her lip. "He isn't responding?"

"I'm sure he'll call in a minute," said James. "He must have just… gotten held up."

He jammed the mirror into his pocket. He wanted to pace, to burn some of the nervous
energy that was making him jumpy. But he and Lily had just reached Walpurgis Abbey's first
floor. They were standing outside the war room, only a short distance from the Death Eaters
that stood watch over the masquerade below. Even though they were hidden beneath the
Invisibility Cloak, their voices were hushed by the Muffliato Charm, he didn't want to push
his luck.

He settled for tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. He willed the mirror in his pocket
to grow warm, signalling that Sirius was trying to get in touch, but nothing happened.

Lily voiced his thoughts before he had the chance. "We need to look for them. They might be
in trouble."

"Two more minutes." James racked his brains for a benign explanation for Sirius' silence.
"Maybe… maybe they got waylaid by a chatty Death Eater and can't leave the conversation.
Or something."

The rat in James' pocket let out a troubled squeak, and suddenly Peter was standing beneath
the Cloak, fully human and no longer Disillusioned. "We should call the whole thing off.
There's a barrier on the war room door that wasn't there last time, I couldn't get through.
Anyone could be inside, even You-Know-Who himself — we could be walking into a trap…"

"One thing at a time, Pete," said James, running a hand through his hair. "We need to find out
if Sirius and Remus are alright. We can figure out the war room later."

"Something must have happened to them." Peter gnawed on a nail. "They should have called
back already, something's not right…"
James adjusted the Cloak, ensuring all three of them were covered. "We have to go
downstairs and look for them."

Lily's lips tightened. "It's difficult navigating under the Cloak in that crowd. We were lucky
we didn't bump into anybody on our way up here. I don't fancy our chances a second time."

"What choice do we have?" said James. "We've got to find Sirius and Remus."

Peter shook his head, muttering. "I have a bad feeling. It's the Jinx, the Jinx —"

"Now's not the time, Pete," said James, more bluntly than he'd intended.

"I knew we shouldn't have come. Our luck's run out, first the war room — now Remus and
Sirius —"

"Pete. You're not helping. And we need you to turn back into Wormtail — the three of us
don't fit well under the Cloak, especially if we're going back down to the masquerade."

With a soft wail, Peter's form began to shrink until he was a sandy rat once more. James
picked him up and placed him in his pocket; the rat trembled against his thigh.

"It's been two and a half minutes," whispered Lily, who had apparently been counting.

James nodded. "If we can't find them, we leave." His throat tightened. They had all agreed
beforehand that if any of them were captured or killed, the others would go back to Hogwarts
without them. Still, he couldn't imagine abandoning Sirius.

Lily's green eyes were soft with understanding. "We'll find them. Let's go."

They were halfway down the wide marble staircase when James' pocket grew warm. His
pulse quickened. Sirius.

He whipped out the mirror. A square-jawed man in his fifties gazed back at him, wearing a
mask with a black teardrop beneath one eye. "I solemnly swear —" began James.

"— that I'm up to no good," finished the man.

Thank Merlin. It really was Sirius. "Padfoot. Where are you?"

"Kitchens," panted Sirius, clearly winded. Green lights flashed in the background of the
mirror. "In the basement. Hurry — there's Death Eaters. We're holding them off, but I dunno
how much longer —" He glanced at something James couldn't see, and the mirror went dark.

James and Lily hastened down the marble staircase, the Invisibility Cloak flapping around
their heels. They crossed the main hall, dodging dancing couples, and ducked behind the
orchestra. The musicians played without faltering, even as the basement door appeared to
open and shut of its own accord.

After descending a tight, winding staircase, they were in the basement proper. James paused
to get his bearings; everything looked as it had in Remus' memory in the Pensive.
"Kitchens are to the left," he said, and they hurried down the corridor.

When they reached the door to the kitchens, he could hear shouts coming from the other side,
followed by a loud crash. He tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

"It's been magically sealed," said Lily, running the tip of her wand across the door.

"Good thing I know a spell for that." They backed up, and he levelled his wand at the door.
"Reducto!"

The curse hit with a bang, and the door was torn apart. Bits of wood and metal flew through
the air; James braced himself, expecting the Cloak to be torn to shreds. But the shrapnel
bounced harmlessly off the silky fabric, though neither of them had cast a Shield Charm.

"How…" marvelled Lily, but there was no time to waste. They stepped through the hole
where the door had been, taking in the scene.

Inside the kitchens, a large, middle-aged man was duelling three Death Eaters at once, while
a smaller figure in a wolf mask held two more Death Eaters at bay. As James and Lily
entered, they were nearly knocked off their feet by dozens of house-elves; the small creatures
swarmed around them, bumping blindly into their legs as they scrambled frantically into the
corridor.

The large man — Sirius — jumped onto a table, parrying curse after curse as the three Death
Eaters surrounded him. One of the Death Eaters raised his wand. "Cru —"

James darted out from under the Invisibility Cloak and tackled the Death Eater. As they fell
to the floor, the Unforgivable Curse shot from the Death Eater's wand and blasted a hole in
the ceiling.

"Alright, Padfoot?" called James. He Stunned the Death Eater he was straddling, then
Conjured a set of manacles around the unconscious man's wrists and ankles, just in case.

"Nice one, Prongs!" Sirius sent identical jinxes at the two remaining Death Eaters, who
dodged out of the way.

James leapt onto the table, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Sirius. He parried a barrage of
hexes, but the Death Eaters were relentless. "Petrificus Total— argh —"

A streak of silver light passed within an inch of his head, and he took a step backwards. The
Death Eaters continued to advance. James and Sirius edged closer to the end of the table,
where a roaring furnace awaited, large enough to swallow them whole.

An acrid smell filled the air — something was burning. Sweat dripped down the back of
Jame's neck. He glanced about the kitchens, hoping Lily or Peter would come to their rescue,
but they were nowhere to be seen.

A Stunning Spell shot past, dangerously close to James; the furnace gobbled up the jet of red
light. The pungent smell was getting stronger, and James realised he was smelling his own
hair, which had begun to singe. Beside him, sweat was pouring down Sirius' face.
"Confringo!" cried one of the Death Eaters. James parried the spell, but he was forced to take
another step backwards, closer to the furnace. "Crucio —"

James put up a Shield Charm, which bought him mere seconds. "Depulso!"

The spell hit the Death Eater square in the chest. James' heart leapt, triumphant. But the
Death Eater didn't stumble; his black robes absorbed the spell as if it were nothing.

Their robes must be magically reinforced, thought James as he blocked yet another Cruciatus
Curse. He was at the very edge of the table now — a hex shot towards him, crackling like
lightning, and his foot slipped as he twisted away — desperately, he threw himself off the
table, hoping to avoid the furnace — he stretched out a hand to break his fall —

There was a nasty crack as he landed on his arm. Pain shot from his wrist to his elbow, and
he scrambled to sit up, curling his injured arm against his stomach.

The Death Eater he had been duelling loomed above him. No face was visible beneath the
silver mask, but James had the unpleasant feeling that the man was smiling.

The Death Eater levelled a wand at James' head.

So this is how I die. James didn't flinch; he raised his chin defiantly, prepared to spit in the
Death Eater's face.

The Death Eater slashed his wand through the air. "Avada Kedav—"

Suddenly, the wand clattered from the Death Eater's grip. For a moment, he appeared to have
been frozen in place: his meaty hand grasped uselessly in the air. Then the Death Eater's arms
snapped to his sides, and he toppled towards James.

James rolled out of the way, and the Death Eater landed face-down beside him. James stared
dumbly, but the man didn't move.

The air above them shimmered. Lily appeared before him, Invisibility Cloak in hand.

A corner of her mouth lifted. "Alright, Potter?"

He couldn't keep himself from grinning. "Nice timing, Evans."

She knelt and pulled the silver mask off the Death Eater's face, revealing a man in his thirties
with a weak chin. "One down, three to go," she said as she poured a phial of rose-coloured
potion into the man's mouth. "The Draught of Living Death should knock him out for a
while. Oh, by the way — Peter needs his wand."

"Ah," said James, "right —"

He pulled Peter's wand from his robes and tossed it to the side. From behind an overturned
chair, a sandy rat scurried towards them, growing taller with each passing step.
"Thanks, mate," said Peter. He picked up his wand and immediately sent a jinx at the Death
Eater who was still duelling Sirius.

"Aim for the neck, or the back of the head," said James. "There's protective enchantments on
the robes, and probably on the masks, too."

Peter obliged. The Death Eater collapsed, writhing on the floor, until all that was left of him
was a massive, slimy slug.

"Disgusting, Pete," said Sirius cheerfully. He hopped off the table and tugged at the collar of
his robes, drenched in sweat. "Not a moment too soon, either. I was starting to burn alive…"

"A little help, if you wouldn't mind!" called Remus from the far end of the kitchens. One of
the two remaining Death Eaters sent a jet of silver light straight at Remus' heart.

"Protego!" cried Peter, and a Shield Charm expanded between Remus and the Death Eater.
The silver curse ricocheted into a rack of frying pans on the wall.

"Nice one, Pete," said James. "Cover us while we finish them off, eh?"

Peter's wand arm trembled, but he nodded resolutely.

Sirius had already sprinted across the room to join Remus. By the time James and Lily
reached them, one of the Death Eaters was dangling upside-down in the air, bound and
gagged.

The last Death Eater standing glanced over his shoulder, at the hole where the door had been.

"I don't think so," said James. "On my count, then… one, two, three — Stupefy!"

Five Stunning Spells hit the Death Eater from all angles. The man's reinforced robes were no
match for the onslaught; he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

James slumped against the wall and sighed in relief, cradling his injured wrist.

Sirius was at his side in an instant. "What happened?"

"I fell earlier. Think I broke something."

"Wondergirl will have a look at it when she's done with the Death Eaters," said Sirius,
pointing his chin at Lily. She and Remus were moving from body to body, removing masks
and pouring the Draught of Living Death into the Death Eaters' slack mouths.

"Who's injured?" asked Lily once she had finished.

Sirius jerked a thumb towards James. "Prongs is."

Lily took James' injured arm and passed her wand over it. "You've fractured your radius." She
Conjured a wooden splint and a roll of bandages that wrapped themselves around his forearm
and wrist. "I won't be able to fix it properly until we're back at Hogwarts, but this should do
for now."

"Brilliant, thanks," said James as the pressure from the splint relieved the pain in his wrist.
He eyed the back of Sirius' neck, which was badly blistered from duelling so near the
furnace. "You're injured too, Pads."

"Nothing to worry about," said Sirius with a shrug. "I won't be in this body long, anyway."

Remus joined them, breathing hard. "I think we've got company."

Sirius leapt to his feet, wand at the ready. "Where?"

"No need to draw your wand, Padfoot," said Remus softly. "You'll scare them…" He gestured
around the ruined kitchens, where innumerable large, frightened eyes peered at them from
behind overturned tables and chairs.

"Ah." Sirius stowed his wand. "No need to be afraid!" he called to the house-elves. "We're
not here to harm you."

Slowly, the house-elves began to crawl out of their hiding spaces. Sirius' declaration didn't
put them at ease; if anything, the creatures looked even more terrified as they surveyed the
state of the kitchens.

"Right," said Sirius to the elves. "I'm looking for a goblin with access to the Black family
vault. If one of you could point me towards him, we'll be out of your hair faster than you can
say bon appétit."

James frowned. The Black family vault? There had been nothing in their plans about the
vault. "Padfoot," he said, "what —"

One of the house-elves, a tiny thing with floppy ears and amber eyes, spoke up. "We is not
seeing Bogruk today!" it squeaked. "Please leave, sirs, we is not knowing where Bogruk is!"

"Bogruk?" said Sirius. "Is that the goblin's name?"

The house-elf's ears flapped around its face as it nodded. "Bogruk is missing work, sir! His
shift is starting at eight o'clock, but Bogruk is late, very late!"

James glanced at his watch. It was already half-past nine. But who was this goblin, and why
was Sirius trying to get in touch with him? "Padfoot," he said again. "You have to tell us
what's going on —"

But Sirius wasn't listening. He swore, rubbing his forehead. "You're certain?" he asked the
house-elf sharply. "If you're lying —"

"Hooky is not lying!" squeaked the elf, terrified. "Bogruk is missing, and Hooky knows not
where he is! Please leave, sirs, you is causing trouble — Hooky is frightened…"

"Fuck," muttered Sirius. "We can't get into the vault without that damned goblin. Fuck —"
"Padfoot," said James for a third time. "What is this about a vault, and why —"

"There's another way in," said Remus. Everybody turned to look at him. He nodded at the
large, lopsided hole in the wall where the door used to be. "A Reductor Curse should do the
trick."

"Another way in where?" said Peter.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Lily. Her arms were crossed, and she was glaring at Sirius. "He wants
to steal from his family's vault."

James felt like she was speaking another language. They were supposed to take the diadem,
not gold from the Black family vault. Sirius knew what the plan was. The whole thing had
been his idea. So why…?

This had to be a mistake. James glanced from Lily to Sirius, certain that it was all a
misunderstanding. Any moment now, Sirius would clarify things, and they'd go after the
diadem, the way they'd planned…

But Sirius didn't deny it. "I'm sorry," he said. He looked around at all of them, but his eyes
settled on James. "I didn't want to drag any of you into this. Didn't want to put you in danger
— I thought I could do it myself while you were sneaking up to the war room. Forgive me,
Prongs."

James felt like he was still in front of the furnace; he felt feverish, overheated with anger.
Sirius had deviated from the plan, and now the diadem was likely out of their reach. He'd put
them all in danger — he'd put Lily in danger. After the commotion they'd caused, merely
getting out of Walpurgis Abbey alive would be a challenge.

But shouting at Sirius would only make the situation worse. James forced himself to breathe
through flared nostrils, focusing on the rhythmic feeling of air moving into his lungs. This
was no different from being on the Quidditch pitch after a formation had gone awry. He could
get them all out of this. He could.

Besides, Sirius' daring plan hadn't been his folly — improvising was what the Marauders did
best. No, Sirius' mistake had been thinking that he could do it alone. Without the Marauders.
Without James.

"What's done is done," said James, exhaling the last of his anger. "I'm glad you dragged us
into it. You would have died in these kitchens if we hadn't come."

Sirius' shoulders sagged with relief. "We should hurry," he said. "The Death Eaters upstairs
are bound to realise what's happening soon, if the house-elves haven't told them already. We
can still reach the vault —"

"Are you mad?" exclaimed Peter. "It's too late! We need to get out of here —"

"No," said James. The others gaped at him, but he had come to a decision. "I'm not leaving
the abbey empty-handed. We're going to the vault."
He glanced at Lily, expecting her to protest, but her mouth was set in a determined line. She
gave him a single, hard nod. "Let's go. We haven't got much time."

When they stepped into the corridor, dozens of house-elves were scurrying frantically about.
Several rushed up the staircase, scrabbling over each other in their haste to climb the stairs.
James' stomach tightened. "The elves are alerting the Death Eaters."

He broke into a run, and the others followed. The house-elves scattered, diving out of their
way as they sprinted into the corridor that held the vaults.

"All the way at the end," panted Sirius. "Second to last, on the left…"

They passed one vault, then another — Selwyn, Rosier, Rowle — until at last they reached the
vault labelled Black.

James drew his wand. "Together," he said, and Sirius nodded. The two of them pointed their
wands at the vault door. "REDUCTO!"

The spells hit with an earth-trembling boom — the entire corridor rocked, sending them
stumbling backwards —

The door exploded in a shower of debris.

"Protego!" shouted Remus, and everything went grey.

The silence as the dust settled was deafening. Grey flakes collected on the Shield Charm,
blanketing it in a fine layer of ash. After a moment, Lily spoke. "D'you think the Death Eaters
heard that?"

James laughed despite himself. "No hiding that we're here now. Let's take the gold and get
out."

Remus dispelled the Shield Charm, and James stepped forward to pull open the twisted,
ruined vault door. He'd barely passed the threshold when he stopped in his tracks.

Impossible, he thought. Beside him, Sirius stared, speechless.

Peter was the first to speak. "It's the Jinx. The Jinx has come to pass…"

For once, nobody argued with him.

The vault was completely empty. There was nothing inside.

Lord Voldemort lifted his wand. Severus and the other Followers were forced to their knees,
as though an invisible hand had shoved them to the floor.
"The Dark Lord rewards those who are faithful to him," said Voldemort softly. "Be they
courageous or weak. He has use for all, you see, and draws all unto himself…

"I shall start with you, Bartemius," he continued, "because I am pleased, very pleased, by
your initiative. Bellatrix tells me you are destined for greatness, and she has never been
wrong yet." He pressed the tip of his wand to Crouch's forehead. "Let us begin…
Legilimens."

Two minutes passed, then five, then ten. Nobody spoke as Lord Voldemort perused the
contents of Crouch's mind. Severus stared fixedly ahead, but out of the corner of his eye, he
could see Crouch tremble from the strain. At last, Lord Voldemort drew back, and Crouch
toppled forward, barely managing to catch himself before he hit the floor.

Lord Voldemort grabbed Crouch's forearm and pressed his wand to the soft skin there.
"Morsmordre." He pronounced the word like it was the name of a lover; his voice was nearly
a purr.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air. The Dark Mark glowed red-hot as the skull and
snake seared into Crouch's forearm like a brand. Crouch gasped in pain, but Lord Voldemort
seemed to neither notice nor care; he had moved on to Avery, his wand pressed to Avery's
forehead as he had done to Crouch.

Avery whimpered as the Dark Lord rifled through his mind. After only a handful of minutes,
Lord Voldemort pulled away.

"You are a pitiful fool, Edmund Avery," said Voldemort, "but even fools have their uses.
Morsmordre."

Avery's whimpers rose to a shriek of pain as the Mark burned into his arm.

"Silence, imbecile," snapped Voldemort. Avery's voice cut off at once, though his mouth
remained open in a silent scream as he clutched his arm.

The Dark Lord cupped Regulus' face in his bony hand. "Chosen of the House of Black," he
murmured. "Your cousin has told me of your reluctance."

Regulus' grey eyes widened. "No, my Lord — I have dedicated myself to your service. I
swear on my wand —"

"Is that so?" said Lord Voldemort. "Legilimens."

Voldemort spent longer on Regulus than he had on either Crouch or Avery; at last, he
withdrew. "Your sense of self-preservation does not surprise me, Regulus Black. Many with
similar motivations have joined my cause." He lifted a long, white finger. "However. I dislike
your disregard for authority. You undermine Augustus Mulciber, you question Severus Snape.
Will you also act against Lord Voldemort?"

"Never," breathed Regulus. "I am sorry — I have learned —"

"Do I have your word, Regulus Black, that you shall serve me even unto death?"
Regulus' voice was barely a whisper. "Until the day I die."

"You speak with sincerity. Good. Lord Voldemort appreciates honesty… for he knows, he
always knows…" The Dark Lord drove his wand into Regulus' arm. "Morsmordre."

Regulus made not a sound, but the agonised look on his face was enough to make Severus
close his eyes.

Finally, only Severus himself was left. He was half-convinced that Voldemort would take one
look into his mind and kill him on the spot. The wealth and power of the House of Black had
kept Regulus alive, despite his less-than-perfect devotion to the cause. Severus, on the other
hand, was a nobody; to be accepted as a Death Eater, he had to be extraordinary, without
fault.

And he was far from that. If Lord Voldemort discovered the feelings he had for Lily Evans…
if he realised how deep those emotions ran…

Because Lily was everywhere in Severus' mind, try as he might to block her out. She was the
happiest part of his childhood. She was his best friend, the first girl he'd fancied, the only
heartbreak he'd ever endured. And she was Muggle-born.

The Dark Lord would not be pleased.

A shadow fell over Severus; Lord Voldemort was towering over him. Severus met those red,
snake-like eyes and forced his barriers of Occlumency aside, certain that any attempt at
concealment would be met with death.

Lord Voldemort's mouth moved. The room vanished, and Severus was lost in a dizzying swirl
of memories. He watched his mother scream as his father took a belt to her; he felt the shame
of wearing dirty, unwashed clothes to Muggle primary school. The memories blended into
one another, each one more personal and painful than the next. It was excruciating, as though
Lord Voldemort had gripped his brain and was squeezing out the worst things inside of it.
Coming home for the summer to find his father passed out on the sofa, surrounded by empty
bottles of liquor. The leering visages of fourteen-year-old James Potter and Sirius Black, just
before they'd jinxed him so badly he'd lain in bed for a week.

Finally, the memory he had been waiting for jumped to the front of his mind. He'd just
finished his Defence O.W.L. and was sitting by the lake when he was jumped by James Potter
and Sirius Black — they Disarmed him, forced him to the ground, made him choke on soap
suds, and then —

"Leave him alone!"

A pulse of curiosity rippled through Severus' mind. The memory of Lily shimmered, like a
pond disturbed by a stone, and he realised the curiosity was coming from Lord Voldemort.

When the Dark Lord spoke, the words reverberated into the corners of Severus' brain. I have
seen this girl. She was inside the mind of Regulus Black.
Severus' torment by the lake continued.

"What's he done to you, then?"

"It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…"

Severus' gut roiled with nausea as James flung him upside-down into the air. He wanted to
fast forward, like a Muggle videocassette, so Lord Voldemort never had to see what happened
next.

But he was powerless to move, powerless to keep the memory from playing out exactly as it
had two years ago.

"You're lucky Evans was here to save you, Snivellus —"

This was it. Severus braced himself even as his tongue prepared to utter the slur that would
change everything. Two syllables, spoken out of fury and humiliation. A word he had
instantly regretted using and would never speak again.

That word would be his undoing once more. Lord Voldemort would feel his remorse and
realise that Severus loved a Muggle-born, that he always had and always would, until his
dying breath —

Suddenly, the memory stopped.

It took Severus a moment to come to his senses. He found that he was lying on the floor; he
pushed himself up, looking around.

Lord Voldemort was no longer in front of him. Beside the table, a witch with dark, curly hair
was shrieking at the top of her lungs.

"— GONE, IT'S BEEN STOLEN —"

"Calm yourself, Bella," said a cold voice. Severus realised that Lord Voldemort had returned
to the head of the table and was staring dispassionately at Bellatrix Black. "Surely the key to
your vault was simply misplaced —"

"Misplaced?" shrieked Bellatrix, her eyes wild. "Impossible! There must be Order members
among the guests tonight, one of them must have —"

"You bore me," said Lord Voldemort, and Bellatrix broke off, breathing hard. "Go, and do not
return until you have proof of your claims."

"My Lord! I swear to you —"

The door burst open, and both Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix whirled, their wands aloft. To
Severus' surprise, a house-elf stumbled into the room, wringing its ears in terror.

When Voldemort spoke, his voice was deadly. "Your place is in the kitchens, elf. Why do you
disturb the Dark Lord?"
"Tippie is very sorry!" squeaked the elf. "Tippie is needing to tell you, sir, there is being —
there is —"

"Spit it out," snapped Bellatrix. She slashed her wand through the air, and the house-elf
squealed in pain.

"Intruders!" cried the elf, tugging on its ears. "Intruders in the kitchens — Tippie is seeing
them, they is running to the vaults —"

There was a distant boom, rattling the statues in the corners of the room. The music coming
from the floor below stopped.

Comprehension dawned across Bellatrix's gaunt face. "The key!" she said. "The intruders
have my key — they're headed to the vault of the Blacks —"

Lord Voldemort screamed with rage and levelled his wand at the house-elf. "AVADA
KEDAVRA!"

Severus scrambled backwards as the house-elf crumpled to the floor in front of him. Its
glassy amber eyes were still open. Beside him, Regulus stared at the house-elf in open-
mouthed horror.

Lord Voldemort flicked his wand, and the door shot open with a bang. "Your first task as
Death Eaters," he said to Severus and the others. "Search this floor and the one above for
intruders. Kill any you find on sight."

But I'm not a Death Eater, thought Severus. I haven't been Marked yet.

Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at Severus' forearm, as though he could hear Severus'
thoughts. "Morsmordre," he said flatly, sounding bored.

Pain exploded in Severus' arm; stars burst behind his eyes, and his vision swam. It felt like
his arm was being dissolved by acid. His skin was sloughing off, his bones were melting.
Hazily, he saw Voldemort sweep out of the room. The skull and snake burned deeper into his
flesh — cutting off his arm might end the pain, he considered, and he reached into his robes
for his wand —

A hand closed over his wrist before he could cast Sectumsempra. "Glacius," said Regulus,
and the pain in Severus' arm receded as the Cooling Charm sunk into his skin.

Within moments, Severus could think clearly again. He looked at his forearm; the Mark
writhed against his flesh, shiny and pink like a newly-healed scar.

"Thank you," he said, and Regulus nodded curtly.

As they stepped into the corridor, a chorus of piercing, shrill cries rent the air. It was the
sound of many magical alarms going off at once, deafeningly loud and impossible to ignore.
All across the abbey, Caterwauling Charms had begun to wail.
 The Necklace and the Ring

James was rooted to the spot, staring inside the Black family vault.

It was empty. How was that possible? Had the Death Eaters somehow known they were
coming?

No — it couldn’t be. James hadn’t even known that Sirius would target the vault.

Beside him, Sirius was also lost for words. “What —” he said, noncomprehending.
“Impossible. Where —”

A high-pitched, wailing scream pierced the air.

Caterwauling Charm, thought James, wrenching his eyes from the vault. The jig was up.

Movement at the far end of the corridor caught his eye; he turned towards the entrance to the
basement. Death Eaters were pouring down the stairs, their wands drawn.

The other Marauders, shaken by the empty vault, didn’t move. Lily glanced at him. Do
something, her expression said.

Right. James was Quidditch Captain and Head Boy — he was well-equipped to give orders.
“Time to go,” he said loudly, and his voice shook the others out of their reverie. “Lily, Pads,
you’re on offence with me. Use whatever spells you think of — no need to hold back. Pete
and Moony, you’re defence. I want you casting Shield Charms, countercurses, Silencing
Spells. Protect us however you can. Understood?”

The others nodded. Peter’s knuckles were white as he gripped his wand.

“On my count, then,” said James as the Death Eaters advanced towards them. “One — two
— three!”

They charged forward, sprinting down the corridor. The Death Eaters halted, startled by their
sudden ferocity. This hesitation cost the Death Eaters dearly: by the time they had recovered,
Lily and Sirius had Stunned two Death Eaters each.

James tried to keep up, but his right arm was still injured, so he was forced to use his left.
Using his off-hand made it difficult to cast anything more complex than a Jelly-Legs Jinx,
and his aim was terrible.

One Death Eater noticed that James was flagging and sent a curse barrelling towards him.
Before he could dodge out of the way, a silver, ethereal hound darted forward and swallowed
the spell with snapping jaws. The Patronus exploded into mist, and James took advantage of
the confusion to aim a Full-Body Bind Curse at the Death Eater’s throat.

“Nice one, Moony,” he panted as the Death Eater collapsed.

Remus nodded tightly. “Your arm — it’s bothering you. Want to switch places?”

“I — yeah, that’d be brilliant.” James raised his wand. “Protego!”

A smattering of hexes hit the Shield Charm and fizzled out with a hiss. Remus stepped in
front of him and flicked his wand, making one of the Death Eaters dangle upside-down in the
air. Sirius was quick to follow up with a Stunning Spell; the Death Eater hit the floor
headfirst and lay there, unmoving.

Finally, the Marauders and Lily reached the foot of the staircase. They kept their wands high,
but no more Death Eaters came. They were safe, for the moment.

“Right,” said James as they paused for breath. “Excellent work, but the hardest part’s yet to
come. There’s only one way out of the abbey, and it’s the same way we came in. We need to
make it across the main hall and through the doors of the entrance hall — hopefully without
being detected, and definitely without dying.”

“Hang on,” said Lily. She knelt and began pulling the masks off the unconscious Death
Eaters. “These should buy us enough time to get out of the abbey,” she said, tossing a silver
mask to each of the Marauders in turn.

“Kind of a flimsy disguise,” commented Peter. “We’re not even wearing the right robes.”

Lily glared at him. “If you want to take the time to change, be my guest. I’m not waiting
around for Voldemort to find us down here.” With that, she pulled on a mask and bounded up
the stairs.

James and the others followed. When they reached the main hall, it was clear the masquerade
was over: Death Eaters were corralling the guests into large groups, then removing masks,
searching robes, and interrogating the attendees.

A woman with long, blonde hair was yelling as the Death Eaters patted her down. “This is a
violation of privacy! Unhand me, or I shall —”

The Death Eater flicked his wand, silencing the woman. “Sorry, milady. Boss’s orders.” He
jerked his chin towards the top of the marble staircase.

James glanced up. Lord Voldemort was surveying the hall from the balustrade on the first
floor, like a king examining his subjects. He looked like a living skeleton. Like the
incarnation of evil itself.

“Let’s go,” said Sirius in a low voice. They shouldered through the crowd, relying on their
Death Eater disguises to muscle through as they moved closer and closer to the abbey doors.

The nearer they got to the exit, the thicker the crowd became; the narrow, high-ceilinged
entrance hall was so packed that they were forced to stop, unable to elbow through.

“Out of the way!” snarled Sirius in a passable imitation of a Death Eater. He jabbed a portly
man in the ribs; the man yelped and tried to step aside, but merely succeeded in trodding on
Sirius’ foot.
“Let us out!” cried someone near the doors. Several others shouted in agreement.

The Death Eaters guarding the doors drew their wands, and the yelling stopped.

“Nobody leaves until the Dark Lord says so,” growled one of the Death Eaters.

Peter let out a little moan. “How are we going to get out?”

“Let’s make a break for it,” said Sirius. “We can fight through this crowd, blast the doors
open.”

James shook his head. “Voldemort is watching. If he sees a bunch of Death Eaters acting
strangely, he’ll murder us on the spot.”

Lily’s expression was hidden by her silver mask, but her head was tilted thoughtfully. She
twisted the clear glass band on her finger, and James saw she was wearing the ring he had
bought her. “Sirius’ plan might work,” she said. “But we’d have to make sure Voldemort
doesn’t realise what we’re doing. If one of us draws his attention, the others can escape while
he’s distracted.”

Peter looked horrified. “I am not going to be bait for You-Know-Who.”

“I wasn’t thinking of you, Peter.” There was an amused lilt to Lily’s voice, and James knew
at once what she was planning to do.

“Lily, no —”

“It’s got to be me,” she said.

“Don’t. I’ll go — I’ve got ways of getting out —”

“James.” She placed a hand on the side of his face. Her fingers slipped beneath his silver
mask, stroking the skin of his cheek. Her touch was exquisitely tender. “How long do you
think it’ll take Lord Voldemort to realise the red-headed girl in the Death Eater mask doesn’t
belong?”

“You can’t.” James’ voice cracked. He knew she was right; the moment Lord Voldemort
spotted her, she was dead. They all were. But there had to be another way — he racked his
brain for something, anything —

Lily pulled off her mask. Her eyes were glassy with tears, but she was smiling. “I love you,
James.”

His heart plummeted as though he’d fallen off a broom. He had wanted to hear those words
from her so badly, but not now, not like this.

Lily tugged at the edges of his mask, lifting it from his face. Then she was kissing him with
an urgency he had never felt from her before. She kissed him like she wanted to remember
the feeling. Like she was saying goodbye.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t do this. Don’t go.”

“It’s alright, James.” She pulled away, and his mask slipped back into place. “No matter what
happens, we’ll see each other again. I’m sure of it.”

Maybe if he begged, she’d change her mind. “Please, Lily — if you love me, then stay with
me. Please. We can still get away, all of us, you don’t have to —”

She interrupted him, sliding the glass ring off her finger. “I’m glad you got me this. The Ring
of Rejection, remember? Never thought I’d use it on you, but — if it saves your life…”

“Don’t — there’s got to be another way —”

The corners of her eyes wrinkled, as though he’d said something funny. “See you on the other
side, James.”

She tossed the ring to the floor, and it shattered into a million splinters of glass.

“NO!" roared James. An invisible wall of force sprang between them, shoving him
backwards, into the throng of party-goers. On the other side of the barrier, Lily turned on her
heel and ran into the main hall, towards the Death Eaters, towards Voldemort, towards death
itself. Her dark red hair vanished into the crowd.

James hurled himself at the invisible wall, driving his shoulder into it, but it was no use. He
drew his wand. “Reducto!”

The barrier rippled faintly as it absorbed the spell. Someone nearby cried out, and the people
around him pressed against each other, trying to get away from him.

James ran a hand through his hair, not caring if he looked crazed. “EVANESCO!” he shouted,
pointing his wand at the barrier. “Come on, come on, please — Evanesco…”

A middle-aged man in a silver Death Eater mask hooked an arm around his waist and pulled
him away from the barrier. James writhed in his grasp, punching wildly at the man’s head.

“It’s me, Prongs!” yelled the man, and James realised it was Sirius. “You need to calm down
—”

“Calm down?” cried James. “Lily’s gone, and she hasn’t got any Portkeys! Even if she gets
out, she won’t be able to get back to Hogwarts. She can’t Apparate, she’s trapped —”

“Lily can take care of herself,” said Sirius. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

“There’s nothing bigger than —”

But a piercing screech echoed across the abbey, drowning out James’ words. On the first
floor balcony, Lord Voldemort’s face contorted with rage. He pointed his wand directly at
James.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”
The jet of green light shot through the barrier as though it wasn’t there at all. Sirius pulled
hard around James’ waist, and they collapsed to the floor. The Killing Curse streaked
overhead, hitting a grey-haired woman in the back.

The woman swayed. Then she crumpled beside James and Sirius, and the crowd around them
erupted into screams.

“Come on!” shouted Sirius, helping James to his feet. On the other side of the barrier, the
Death Eaters were following Voldemort’s lead: dozens of wands were aimed at them, sending
jets of red and green light into the packed entrance hall.

The red spells fizzled out as they struck the barrier, but the Killing Curses passed through
without issue. All around James, guests dropped heavily to the floor. Panicked, the crowd
surged forward, screaming and banging on the abbey doors.

“Levicorpus!” bellowed Sirius as they fought through the throng. The man ahead them shot
upside-down into the air, and James and Sirius hurried forward to take his place.

There was a commotion ahead; lights flashed as a group of Death Eaters near the doors began
to duel. After a moment, James realised that it was Remus who was duelling. Within seconds,
Remus had overpowered one of the guards while Peter held the other at bay.

Remus stepped over the unconscious guard’s body, waving his wand. Slowly, the doors
creaked open. “Go!” he shouted, and the crowd rushed forward with a roar.

As people poured out the abbey doors, James turned towards the main hall. It was impossible
to make out where Lily had gone. Dozens of guests were trapped on the other side of the
barrier, pressing themselves against the invisible wall, trying to force their way out of the
abbey. The occasional eerie green light whizzed by overhead, but none found a target; the
Death Eaters were apparently unwilling to slaughter the pure-bloods who blocked their way.

James looked to the first floor, but Lord Voldemort was nowhere to be seen. Rushing up the
marble steps, however, was a girl with dark red hair, holding a large glass flask full of
burbling golden liquid. At the top of the staircase, she paused, taking a swig of the potion.
Then she hurled the concoction down the stairs, and the flask shattered, spilling its contents
over the marble steps.

“LILY — NO!” cried James, though she couldn’t hear him. Felix Felicis was incredibly
volatile when tampered with. Lily had to know this — she’d nearly blown herself up in their
fifth year after drinking spoiled Liquid Luck. What was she thinking? If an errant curse hit
the potion-covered stairs —

Lily pointed her wand at the spilt potion. Her mouth moved.

“MALEDICTUS INCENDIO!”

The abbey exploded in an inferno of heat and flame.

The stairway collapsed, and the pillars supporting the balustrade buckled. Just as quickly as
the blaze started, it fizzled out, and a massive cloud of smoke and debris billowed forth,
filling the main hall. The cloud barrelled towards James, but the invisible barrier held. The
people trapped in the main hall screamed in terror as the cloud engulfed them, and James
watched helplessly as the abbey caved in on itself.

Lily, he thought, searching for some sign that she’d survived. But there was nothing — just
heavy black smoke, thicker than air, blocking sight of everything —

Sirius tugged on his arm, forcing him out the door. “Move, Prongs!”

James stumbled onto the abbey grounds and began to run. It was dark and pouring rain;
within seconds, his robes were soaked through. He slipped on a patch of mud, and Peter
caught him by the neck of his robes. Remus was breathing heavily close by, struggling to
keep up as they sprinted for the gate —

Lightning flashed across the sky, setting the grounds momentarily alight. Thunder followed,
booming so loudly it drowned out all other sound —

No, not everything. Above the thunder, carried on the squalling wind, came a noise more
deadly than any nature could produce.

A high, cold shriek of fury.

Somewhere in the abbey, Lord Voldemort screamed.

Severus and the other newly-Marked Followers were on the second floor, searching for
intruders, when the abbey blew to pieces.

A thunderous boom split Severus’ eardrums, and the floor buckled as though made of
quicksand. He hurled himself to the side as the corridor collapsed; a large chunk of stone
narrowly missed crushing his head.

He curled into a ball as the abbey came crashing down around him. “PROTEGO!”

The Shield Charm may well have saved his life. When the ruins of the abbey finally shifted
to a halt, he was trapped beneath a mound of rubble, in a tight space barely bigger than the
Shield Charm he had cast.

There was no sign of the other Followers. “Regulus?” ventured Severus, getting to his feet.
He had to stoop so as not to hit his head.

No response. He tried again, louder. “Regulus Black!”

“Here!” came a voice behind a pile of pulverised stone that had once been a wall. “We’re
alright. Well, Barty was hit on the head rather badly, but Avery and I are okay.”

Severus was not going to cry over an injured Bartemius Crouch. “We’ve got to clear the
way.”

“I’ve already started,” called Regulus. “Might be slow going — Crouch is out of
commission, and Avery can’t exactly help, either.”

Severus turned towards the entrance to the corridor; crumbled pillars and broken stonework
barred the way. “The path to the stairs is blocked, too. I’ll work on that from my end.”

The Dark Mark on his arm throbbed as he pointed his wand at the debris in front of him. He
gritted his teeth against the pain and waved his wand. Large chunks of stone dissolved into
dust; he continued to work until only a shattered pillar stood in his way.

Easy enough to Vanish that. “Evanesco.”

The pillar faded. Behind it crouched a red-haired girl, her posture taut as an arrow, ready to
attack. She wore no mask, but even if she had, he would have recognised her in an instant.

Severus froze. No. Not her. How could she be here? It had to be a trick of his eyes, an illusion
—

Lily Evans didn’t hesitate. “Expelliarmus.”

His wand slid out of his grip; she caught it and stuffed it into her robes. Then her wand was at
his throat, pinning him against the rubble. There was no mercy in her eyes.

“I should’ve known you’d be here,” she hissed. “You’ve always wanted to be a Death Eater.
This must be the best night of your life.”

A sudden, searing burst of pain shot up Severus’ arm, and he gasped, clasping a hand over
the Mark. Lily’s eyes narrowed.

“Show me your arm.”

He obliged, and she pushed up his sleeve. The Mark was a deep, angry red; the skull and
snake were covered in blisters, weeping clear fluid.

Lily raised her eyebrows. “That’s new,” she commented. “Interesting spot for a brand…
difficult to hide. Pity you didn’t get it earlier — would’ve saved me a lot of heartache.”

Severus was still trying to reconcile the fact that Lily Evans had apparently attended the
Knight’s Masquerade. The house-elf’s warning suddenly made sense. “You’re the intruder,
aren’t you?”

“That’s none of your business, Snivellus. But I’m currently trying to leave, so if you could
point me towards the nearest window…”
“That’s how you think you’ll escape the Dark Lord? By jumping out a window?”

Her wand jabbed deeper into his throat, cutting off his windpipe. “If you’re not going to help,
Snivellus, then I see no reason to keep you alive.”

He tried to suck in air. Failed. “You’re… not a killer.”

Lily’s eyes were emeralds, hard and cold. “You don’t know me anymore.”

I know that if the Dark Lord catches you, you’re dead. And if you die, I might as well die, too.

He couldn’t say all that; his lungs were collapsing. So he wheezed, “I never said… I wasn’t
going… to help.”

He reached his burning arm upwards and withdrew the necklace that was tucked beneath the
collar of his robes. He yanked, and the chain snapped. The leprechaun skull tumbled to the
floor, but the Time-Turner remained dangling on the chain.

“This… will save you,” he gasped, holding it out to her. “Three turns.”

Lily eyed the necklace suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Time-Turner. Will take you back… three hours. Gives you a chance… before anyone knows
you’re here… a chance to get away.”

Recognition flashed across Lily’s face. “A way to be in two places at once,” she murmured.
She snatched the necklace from him and examined the Time-Turner. After a moment, she let
out a soft, incredulous laugh.

Lack of oxygen turned Severus’ vision grey at the edges. “Something… funny?”

“Yeah. It looks like the Jinx.”

Severus had no idea what she was talking about. Lily stepped backwards, wand still trained
on him but no longer at his throat. He fell to his knees, gasping for air.

“Three turns, right?” She flicked the Time-Turner with a finger. “Cheers, Sev. Let’s hope we
don’t meet again, or I really will kill you.”

“Wait,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “My wand — you’ve still got my —”

But the Time-Turner was already spinning. He reached for her, but she vanished on the spot.

Severus didn’t bother catching himself. He hit the floor hard and didn’t get up, letting the
burrowing, red-hot pain in his arm drown out his racing thoughts.

He was a dead man. He’d helped her escape. The Dark Lord would surely discover what he’d
done and murder him for it.
The thought struck no fear in him; instead, it was a relief. There was no turning back on the
path he had gone down, but if he was dead, at least he would be free.

A large chunk of stone near his head shifted slowly aside. Regulus stepped through the gap,
Avery and a dazed-looking Crouch at his heels.

“There you are,” said Regulus, helping Severus to his feet. “What happened — why are you
on the floor?”

“I fell,” lied Severus. “The way to the stairs is clear. Let’s go downstairs and find out what’s
—”

But another figure rushed into the corridor, a tall girl with wild black hair. “Where’s she
gone?!” demanded Bellatrix. Her porcelain doll mask was askew, but she didn’t seem to
notice. “The red-haired Mudblood — I saw her climb the stairs, she must have come this way
—”

“She was here,” said Severus, ignoring the way Regulus gaped at him. “She Disarmed me,
then ran away.” He pointed down the corridor. Bellatrix hurried past without another word,
disappearing into the darkness of the ruined second floor.

“A Muggle-born girl was here?” said Regulus. “With red hair? Was it — Sev, are you sure
she went —”

From downstairs came a horrible, piercing shriek. “IT’S GONE!” screamed Lord Voldemort.
“MY PEARL OF GREATEST PRICE — MY MOST PRECIOUS — GONE!”

“What’s gone, my Lord?” asked another voice. “If something has been stolen, surely we can
recover it —”

Voldemort’s laugh was mirthless. “You, Rowle? Recover it? When you could not even keep it
from being taken?”

“My deepest apologies, Lord. I —”

“Your apologies are meaningless. AVADA KEDAVRA!” There was a flash of green light, and
Rowle did not speak again.

“Selwyn,” continued Lord Voldemort, as though he hadn’t just murdered one of his closest
devotees. “Send for Rodolphus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. The three of you are to guard
the war room — protect the chalice and the locket with your lives —”

The chalice and the locket? Severus remembered the statues of the Hogwarts Founders in the
war room, each holding a different object. The abbey had come thundering down around the
Dark Lord’s ears, and he was worried about a couple of historical artefacts?

If Selwyn thought Voldemort’s command was odd, he didn’t show it. “Yes, my lord. Right
away.”

“And Bellatrix — I need Bellatrix. Where is she —”

“Upstairs, my lord,” said Selwyn hurriedly. “I saw her not two minutes ago — she is in
search of the thief.”

If the Dark Lord was bringing his murderous wrath to the second floor, Severus really did not
want to get in his way. Regulus appeared to be thinking along similar lines; he shepherded
Avery and Crouch into a nearby, partially-collapsed room, then crouched at the door, waiting.

Severus joined him, and not a moment too soon. A rush of wind blasted down the corridor, as
strong as the gale of a tempest. Then a dark, billowing cloud streaked past, borne aloft on the
wind. Black shapes twisted inside the cloud, and Severus glimpsed a bone-white face at the
centre.

The Dark Lord can fly, thought Severus. He wondered if Voldemort was using a spell, or if
being Death incarnate gave one the ability to atomise into black smoke at will. Regardless, he
was glad they had escaped the Dark Lord’s notice — at least for the moment.

“What now?” asked Regulus as they crept out of the room.

“The Dark Lord seems to have forgotten about us,” said Severus. “Perhaps it is time to return
to Hogwarts —”

A booming voice interrupted him. “Oi, you lot! You’re the newest recruits, aren’t you?”

The voice was coming from the ruined staircase that led to the first floor; a silver-masked
Death Eater stood on the crumbled steps, peering up at them.

Not going back to Hogwarts, then. Severus bowed to the man. “At your service.”

“You’re needed in the main hall,” said the Death Eater. “We’re clearing out the rubble,
searching for survivors.”

Severus nodded. Cautiously, he and the other Followers lowered themselves down the
wrecked staircase until they were standing beside the man.

“At least a dozen Death Eaters have been buried alive,” said the man. “Rescuing them is our
highest priority. Anyone else, you can leave.”

The grand marble staircase connecting the first floor and the main hall had completely
collapsed, but someone had leaned a rickety wooden ladder against the sagging balustrade.
Severus climbed down; when he finally set foot in the main hall, the place was
unrecognisable. A layer of ash covered mountains of rubble and broken stone. Glittering
arms from fallen chandeliers poked out at odd intervals, like the shoots of a crystalline plant.
The air was choked with dust, coating Severus’ lungs with every breath.

Time to get to work. Severus reached for his wand, only to remember that he no longer had
one. My first task as a Death Eater, he thought as he began to shift through the debris by
hand. Cleaning without magic. Like a Muggle.

It was a shame Lily Evans had sworn to kill him, really. She would have appreciated the
irony.
A/N: The Jinx, for reference:

Thanks for reading!

 Mutantur Tempora
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Lily was pulled backwards at an incredible rate, through colour and darkness and colour
again — humanoid shapes rose and fell in the changing light, quicker than blinking —
fragments of music were playing in reverse, eerie and discordant —

Then she was back on the second floor of Walpurgis Abbey, miraculously still on her feet.
The corridor was pristine; there was no rubble, no caved-in ceiling. The carpet was plush and
perfect, not a speck of soot on its dense pile. It was as if the abbey had never been destroyed.

Distantly, a chorus of bells tolled the hour. Once, twice — seven times, in total.

Seven o'clock. So Severus hadn't lied to her; she'd really gone back in time. The masquerade
wouldn't start for another hour.

Quick footfalls from the staircase drew her attention. Someone was coming. She tried the
handle of the nearest room, but it was locked.

"Alohomora," she muttered. The door opened with a click, and she rushed inside, locking the
door behind her.

This was apparently someone's bedroom: there was an ornate four-poster bed with dark green
sheets, a vanity in the corner, a wardrobe, and absolutely nowhere to hide.

Lily pressed her ear to the wall beside the door, listening as the footsteps in the corridor drew
closer. Maybe whoever it was wouldn't come in here. There had to be loads of other
bedrooms in the abbey, what were the odds that they'd enter this one —

The footsteps stopped outside the room. A set of keys jangled, and the lock slid back.

Lily placed a hand over her wand. The door swung inward, shielding her from whoever was
on the other side.

Bellatrix Lestrange strode into the room.

Lily held her breath, but Bellatrix hadn't seemed to notice her, even as the door shut once
more. The tall witch went directly to the vanity at the other end of the room and seated
herself in front of the mirror.

As Bellatrix pulled a drawer open, Lily took advantage of the noise to scuttle to the side, out
of the mirror's reflection. As she watched, hardly daring to breathe, Bellatrix pulled out a
silver compact and began to dust white powder across her face.

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Lily might have laughed. The evilest witch of her
generation was powdering her nose exactly the same way Petunia did.
Time seemed to slow to an agonising crawl as Bellatrix got ready for the masquerade. With
each sluggish second, Lily's heart beat in triplicate. She pressed against the wall, as still and
tense as if she'd been Petrified. At any moment, she would surely be caught. But no; Bellatrix
was leaning into the mirror, applying dark, glittery powder to her heavily-lidded eyes.

The Felix Felicis that Lily had taken earlier nudged at the back of her mind. A small, mad
spark of an idea began to take hold of her. The plan was risky, at best — at worst, it was
utterly insane.

And if she timed things right, it just might work.

Quietly, Lily drew her wand and crept across the room, careful to stay out of sight of the
mirror. When she was mere feet away from Bellatrix, she slipped a hand into her red suede
bag and pulled out a small phial. The glass was cold and smooth against her palm.

Bellatrix froze.

Lily darted forward, hooked an arm around Bellatrix's neck, and forced the contents of the
phial down her mouth. Bellatrix gurgled, choked, and spat, but Lily did not let go.

"Swallow," she hissed into Bellatrix's ear.

Bellatrix's nails clawed at Lily's arm as she gasped for air. Lily squeezed tighter.

At last, Bellatrix swallowed. Lily tossed the phial to the ground and drew her wand.
"Muffliato. Incarcerous."

Long, corded lengths of rope sprang into existence, binding Bellatrix to the chair, and Lily
relinquished her grip.

"HELP!" screamed Bellatrix. "MASTER! I'VE BEEN ATTACKED — MASTER, HELP

ME!"

Lily flicked her wand, and the chair spun so they were face-to-face. "Scream all you like.
Nobody can hear you."

Bellatrix's grey eyes raked over Lily. She had dark, smudged eyeshadow across one lid, but
the other eye was bare. "I know you. You're Severus' Mudblood friend."

"'Friend' is a stretch," said Lily. "My younger self had horrid taste. But this isn't about Sev."

Her wand was inches from Bellatrix's nose, but Bellatrix looked utterly unimpressed. "Going
to curse me, are you?"

"If you don't answer my questions, yeah," said Lily. "What happened to your family's
fortune?"

"Nothing's happened to it," said Bellatrix automatically. As soon as the words left her mouth,
she stiffened, and the bored look vanished from her face. "Why did I tell you that? What was
in that potion you gave me?"
"Veritaserum." Lily resisted the temptation to add: obviously, you bitch.

Bellatrix struggled uselessly against her bonds. "You're dead. When the Dark Lord finds out
about this — when I tell him —"

"Terrifying," said Lily coolly. "If nothing's happened to your family's gold, then where is it?"

"Downstairs, in the vault, of course." Bellatrix spat, nearly catching the hem of Lily's robes.
"Fucking Veritaserum."

"Better not let Voldemort hear you using Muggle swears," said Lily. "Suppose I told you that
the vault was empty. What would you say to that?"

"Impossible," retorted Bellatrix. "The vault only recognises Black blood. I'm the only one
who can access it — the key won't turn for anyone else. Not even the Dark Lord can get in."

Interesting. "Have you got plans to move the fortune tonight? Withdraw it, perhaps?"

"Of course not. Though I don't see why you care, you piece of Mudblood filth —"

Lily twitched her wand, and Bellatrix fell silent, though her mouth continued to move.

So the gold was still in the vault — or at least, Bellatrix believed as much. But if Bellatrix
had no plans to withdraw the fortune, and nobody else could get into the vault, then who…?

The realisation hit Lily in a flash. The fortune was stolen.

And I'm the one who took it.

"Thanks for your help," said Lily, and this time she added, "you massive bitch."

She pulled another phial out of her bag, this one filled with the Draught of Living Death.
Bellatrix thrashed, screaming voicelessly, but Lily grabbed a fistful of curly black hair, forced
Bellatrix's head back, and poured the potion down her throat. Within seconds, Bellatrix
slumped over, breathing so shallowly that she really did look dead.

Lily snipped a curl from the nape of Bellatrix's neck, Vanished the ropes that bound her to the
chair, and pushed Bellatrix's unconscious body under the bed. The dark lock of hair went into
a phial of Polyjuice Potion, which she drank like a shot. As her limbs elongated and her hair
lengthened into wild dark curls, she returned to the vanity, settling in front of the mirror.

Bellatrix's face stared back at her, and Lily gave her new reflection a cheeky wink. Then she
pulled out the pot of dark eyeshadow and smudged it across her bare lid.

She took her time getting ready. True, she needed to slip out of Walpurgis Abbey before the
masquerade began, but that gave her forty-five whole minutes to do as she pleased.

Annoyingly, as she was applying white powder to her cheeks, Professor Slughorn's voice
from sixth-year Potions echoed warningly in her mind. Felix Felicis, taken in excess, causes
recklessness and dangerous overconfidence… too much of a good thing, you know…
"I'm aware of the side-effects," she said aloud. She hadn't taken that much Felix Felicis. And
if she had… well, she was more brilliant with Liquid Luck, anyway. She would be fine.

There was a bottle of dark red wine on the vanity, and she helped herself to a glass.
Slughorn's voice in her head went quiet.

Also atop the vanity was a golden key and a short, gnarled wand. When she finished with her
makeup, she placed both the key and the wand into her bag and went to the wardrobe. Inside
hung a set of lacy black robes with hundreds of tiny black beads embroidered into the
neckline. A white porcelain mask, like the lower half of a doll's face, smiled up at her from
the bottom of the wardrobe.

Shame, thought Lily. She'd spent ages applying black lipstick to Bellatrix's thin lips, trying to
keep it from feathering.

It was a quarter to eight by the time she was dressed. She glanced at herself in the mirror: the
dark eyeshadow and white pressed power made Bellatrix's face look like a living skull. It was
perfect.

She swallowed a second glass of blood-red wine — for courage — and left black lip prints on
the glass. Then she donned the porcelain mask and stepped into the corridor.

It was time to embody the evilest witch of her generation.

The first test came as Lily descended the wide marble staircase that led to the main hall.

"Bellatrix," said a man in Death Eater robes and a silver mask, sounding surprised. "Thought
you'd be in the gardens, entertaining the guests who arrived early."

"Don't be absurd," said Lily in her best imitation of Bellatrix's haughty tone. "I've more
important matters to attend to before the masquerade begins."

"The Hogwarts students, eh?" said the Death Eater in a knowing voice.

Lily was glad that her mask covered the panic that flitted across her face. He must mean
Severus and his gang of Slytherins, she thought, trying to calm herself. Not the Marauders.

"You're unusually well-informed," she said with a sneer, brushing past him.

The man said nothing, clearly affronted. Lily let out a short, cruel laugh for good measure as
she hastened across the hall and down the stairs that led to the basement.

Time to find a goblin. Bogruk, the house-elf had called him. He hadn't shown up for his shift
in the kitchens at eight o'clock, and Lily had an inkling she knew why.
She strode down the corridor lined with doors to identical servant's quarters, where the
goblins and house-elves slept. There was no way to tell which one Bogruk might be in. She
could feel time running out by the second, with each tap of Bellatrix's shoes against the
flagstone floor. Had the basement ceiling always been this low, or did the corridor feel
claustrophobic because she stood over six feet tall in Bellatrix's body?

She tried one of the handles at random, and the door swung open. House-elves weren't
allowed locks, it seemed.

Rows of bunk beds lined the room, leaving space for little else. The beds were hard pallets,
without blankets or pillows; all were empty save one in the corner, where a single house-elf
was curled up.

"WHERE'S BOGRUK?" she roared. The house-elf startled awake, its little face contorting
with terror.

"Bogruk isn't sleeping in this room, Mistress!" it squealed, pointing a trembling finger.
"Please, Bogruk is in the next room. Have mercy, please!"

Lily flicked her wand, making a sharp crack. The house-elf jumped, though it had just been
noise — not a real spell. I'm sorry, she told the house-elf silently. Being too merciful would
raise suspicion, and she still had work to do.

Ten strides — ten seconds — and she was in the room next door, where a pot-bellied goblin
was already buckling his shoes, no doubt awakened by the commotion.

"Get up," she snapped. "I need to access my vault."

The goblin bowed deeply, then hustled out the door, though one of his shoes was only
partway on. Lily followed, trailing the goblin like a tall, malicious shadow.

"And what does the mistress seek to withdraw today?" asked the goblin as they passed the
vaults of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"That's none of your business," replied Lily, reading the gold plaques above each door.
Parkinson. Nott. Macmillan.

"We have been over this, milady," said the goblin in a neutral voice. "As the Keeper of the
Vaults, I must make a record of each withdrawal —"

"Oh, don't make me curse you, Bogruk," said Lily. "You'll find out when we get there. Good
enough?"

Bogruk nodded stiffly.

At last, they reached the Black family vault. Bogruk stroked the door with his finger, then
stepped back and eyed Lily expectantly. She withdrew the key from her robes and inserted it
into the lock, the way she had seen the real Bellatrix do in Remus' memory.
Nothing happened. Lily tensed. The vault was supposed to recognise Black blood — could it
somehow know that she was an impostor? She braced herself, preparing to be melted into a
puddle of sludge —

Then the clockwork gears began to turn, and the door swung open.

The vast, incalculable wealth of the Black family glittered before her. Mountains of Galleons,
teetering stacks of Sickles, shelf after shelf of priceless artefacts inlaid with jewels —

All were hers for the taking.

As she stepped into the vault, Felix Felicis hummed through her veins, warning her that time
was running out. If she wanted to slip out of Walpurgis Abbey, she needed to do it in the next
ten minutes, before the masquerade began.

"I'm really sorry about this," she said, pointing her wand at Bogruk. "Stupefy!"

The spell knocked the goblin against the wall of the vault, and he slid to the floor,
unconscious.

Lily winced. It would be her fault if he was punished for missing his shift. She hoped that
with a bit of luck — and Felix Felicis was on her side — his absence would be forgotten in
the coming chaos.

Time to get to work. Lily withdrew her red suede bag and opened it, placing it on the floor.

Thank God for Undetectable Extension Charms, she thought, waving her wand. All around
her, gold and silver coins rose into the air, pouring into the bag in thick, glittering streams,
like water from a fountain. Next came the treasures on the shelves: the expensive sets of
silverware, a rainbow of perfectly-cut gems, each larger than her palm, diamond-studded
teeth and claws from creatures she couldn't identify.

When the vault was finally empty, she scooped up her bag and stepped back to admire her
handiwork. The completely bare vault was enormously satisfying: Sirius had wanted his
family's gold, and so did she. She needed those Galleons, and in her bag was enough to pay
her fine a thousand times over.

Felix's hum grew louder, rattling her bones. She needed to leave. Now.

"I am truly sorry," she whispered as she Disillusioned the goblin, who was still propped
against the wall. As she walked out, the vault's great clockwork door sealed behind her,
locking him inside.

She was climbing the staircase out of the basement when eight deep tolls rang through the
abbey. Felix Felicis' humming suddenly stopped, as though she'd never taken it at all.

The masquerade had started. It was impossible to sneak out now; the abbey would be too
crowded for her to leave unseen. She had missed the opportunity.
The unshakeable confidence that Lily had enjoyed since swallowing Liquid Luck wavered
for a moment. "It's alright," she muttered, willing herself to stay calm. She could still escape.
She'd just have to alter her plans.

Besides, stealing the Black family fortune had been Sirius' goal, not hers. She still wanted
what they came for.

She wanted the diadem.

Masked couples were already dancing in the main hall, spinning and laughing like they were
in a ballroom, not Lord Voldemort's seat of power. Lily skirted around the orchestra that had
set up in front of the basement door — who in their right mind would play music for You-
Know-Who? — and slipped into the crowd.

A hand landed lightly atop her shoulder. "Bella," said a female voice affectionately.

Lily turned. The woman touching her was tall, even taller than Bellatrix; a black, feathered
mask covered her face, and her wiry dark hair was streaked with grey at the temples.
Whoever this woman was, she was clearly fond of Bellatrix, because she pulled Lily into a
loose embrace.

"So good to see you, my darling." The woman's long fingernails scratched Lily's back.

Lily's mind raced. Who was this woman? Hugging a Manticore would be safer than touching
Bellatrix Black. "The pleasure is all mine," she managed.

The woman stepped back to observe Lily at arm's length, clucking her tongue. "You've lost
weight. Is the food here not to your taste?"

This wasn't Bellatrix's mum, was it? "I look fantastic," retorted Lily.

"You look peaky." The woman turned to the man next to her. "She looks peaky, doesn't she,
Orion?"

Lily's eyes widened. These weren't Bellatrix's parents — they were Sirius'.

Orion Black was wearing a feathered mask identical to his wife's. His grey eyes swept
critically over Lily. "She looks well," he said in a gravelly voice. "You worry too much,
Walburga."

"I should go," said Lily, desperate for a way to end the conversation. Orion and Walburga
Black clearly knew Bellatrix well; the more they spoke, the greater chance they'd see through
her disguise. "I need to — er —"
She was saved by a boy in a bird mask with a long beak. "There you are," he said. "So sorry
to interrupt — could I have a word, Bella?"

His voice was strangely familiar. "Of course," said Lily, and she allowed the boy to whisk her
away from Sirius' parents.

He grasped both her hands — what was it with people touching Bellatrix — and leaned
closer, sounding eager. "I was wondering what you could tell me about the ceremony."

The real Bellatrix Black probably knew exactly what ceremony he was talking about, but Lily
had no idea. She couldn't go wrong with being haughty and withholding, though, right?
"That's none of your business."

"Come on, Bella," wheedled the boy. "You don't have to tell me everything. Just give me a
hint…"

He really did have a familiar voice, and she'd seen that curly brown hair before, too. He
looked just like one of the Ravenclaw prefects. But what would a prefect be doing at the
Knight's Masquerade —

"Oh, my God," she said. "Bartemius Crouch?"

"Barty!" said the boy peevishly. "I've told you, it's Barty, and you always forget —"

"I can't be arsed to remember the name of a Hogwarts brat," she snapped. Questions whirled
through her mind; she didn't know what to ask first. Why the fuck was Crouch here? Was he a
Death Eater? Why would a Ravenclaw prefect — especially one from such a good family —
want to be a Death Eater?

If she wanted answers, she needed to get him talking. "Why do you care what happens at the
ceremony, anyway?"

Barty Crouch's arms were folded; she'd clearly hurt his feelings by calling him a brat. "I just
wanted to know what to expect," he muttered. "When we take the Mark."

Lily remembered pulling up Severus' sleeve, the shiny pink skull that writhed on his arm. His
gasp of pain. Was Barty Crouch going to be branded with the Dark Mark, too? But he was a
Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin —

Hang on, she thought. The student who had Imperiused people at school hadn't been a
Slytherin, either. Could it be…?

"You Imperiused those students at Hogwarts," she said. "You made them attack people."

Crouch shrugged. "So?"

Every muscle in Lily's jaw hurt as she forced herself to smile. The real Bellatrix would be
proud of Crouch, not furious. "And why did you do that, Barty?"

"To get your attention. It worked, didn't it?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I barely know you exist."

Crouch's arms squeezed tighter around himself; his voice was petulant now. "You said you
were proud of me. That I'd earned a chance to be Marked."

So he was going to be branded. Just like Severus.

"I say a lot of things. Besides, being Marked isn't special." Lily gestured around them, at the
Death Eaters dancing and eating grapes and sipping champagne from tall flutes. "Lord Vol —
the Dark Lord is fighting a war, and he needs bodies to do it. That's the only reason he's
letting you join."

"You're being cruel." Crouch's voice rose to a whine. "You said I was talented — that I was
special — you said that you and I would be his most loyal…"

Lily stopped listening. Why did Barty Crouch want to join the Death Eaters so badly? It
made no sense. He had everything he could ever want: he was a prefect, a good student, and
his future was bright. He wasn't like Severus, who had been raised without love and gone
looking for it in the wrong places.

Then why…

The memory of Bartemius Crouch, Senior, leering at her from the high benches of the
Wizengamot, rose unbidden in her mind. His self-righteousness, his ruthless attitude towards
those who might practise the Dark Arts.

God. Barty Junior was becoming a Death Eater to piss off his father, wasn't he?

"You want a hint?" she hissed. "Here's your hint. Taking the Dark Mark hurts. It burns, and it
keeps burning even after you've got it. So look forward to that, Barty."

Crouch gaped at her, his mouth open so wide she could see it under his bird's beak mask.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," she snapped. "You're pledging your allegiance to a Dark Lord,
not Albus Dumbledore. Of course it's going to hurt."

"Bad time, Bellatrix?"

A broad-shouldered, masked man strode towards her and bowed deeply; she recognised him
as Sirius Black in disguise. Thank God, she thought.

"I was hoping to ask for a favour," he said, brushing his lips across the back of her hand. "I've
been longing for a dance with you all evening."

She quirked an eyebrow. Sirius didn't want to dance with Bellatrix; he wanted to steal the key
to her vault. "Is that so? But I don't think we've ever met."

"Heathcote Bulstrode, at your service," said Sirius. "Indulge me, dear Bellatrix." His gaze
drifted to a sullen Crouch. "Assuming you're not too busy bullying the other guests, that is.
I'd hate to spoil your fun…"
"I've just finished my bullying," she said lightly, turning away from Crouch. "By all means,
lead the way…"

Sirius steered her between dozens of dancing guests until they reached the middle of the hall.
He put a hand on her waist and began to guide her through a slow waltz.

As they danced, he didn't speak, and neither did she; she suspected it was taking all of Sirius'
concentration to act as if he wasn't utterly repulsed by Bellatrix. At last, he spun her around,
then caught her and dipped her low, so that her hair nearly brushed the ground. His hands
were firm around her hips as he pulled her upright; though she was still dizzy from twirling,
she felt his fingers slip into the pocket of her robes.

Sirius' touch was light, but he'd clearly never picked a pocket before. He had the hands of an
aristocrat, not a thief. Luckily for him, he wasn't dancing with the real Bellatrix, and Lily
pretended she didn't notice as he withdrew the key.

As their dance ended, Sirius bowed low again and backed away, disappearing into the crowd.
Lily watched him go; she expected him to rejoin Remus and head to the basement. Instead,
Sirius lingered at the edge of the dance floor, craning his neck and looking uncertain.

Where was Remus? Lily looked around and groaned. Remus was dancing stiffly with a curly-
haired boy in a bird mask. Despite Remus' obvious reluctance, Crouch showed no signs of
letting him go.

Lily could do something about that. She approached them with a curtsy, batting her eyes at
Crouch.

"Forgive me, Barty, for being so dreadfully rude to you," she said, proffering her hand. "Shall
I make it up to you?"

Crouch snatched her hand before she could withdraw it, desperate for her approval, and they
began to dance. Halfway through the song, silver and gold fireworks erupted in the air,
raining glittering sparks over the hall. Crouch joined the crowd in applauding, but Lily wasn't
distracted by the spectacle. She turned just in time to see the basement door close.

Sirius and Remus were on their way.

The abbey bells tolled nine o'clock as Lily helped herself to a flute of champagne and leaned
against the wall, mulling over what to do next. She needed to steal the diadem before her past
self blew up the abbey and collapsed the upper floors, rendering the war room inaccessible.
Lord Voldemort had been standing on the first floor balustrade when she and the Marauders
had fought their way out of the basement, so she'd have to sneak into the war room before
then. Otherwise, Voldemort would notice her and demand to know why she was going
upstairs — away from the commotion — instead of searching the guests with the other Death
Eaters. He'd likely see through her disguise at once.

Her best bet, then, was to steal the diadem just before the masquerade erupted into chaos.
Lily set down her champagne flute and allowed a Death Eater in a silver mask to lead her in a
waltz across the dance floor. Dancing was safer than chatting with the guests who stood in
clusters at the sides of the hall; at least while dancing, she could remain silent and switch
partners after every song.

After her fourth dance, Lily feigned that she was tired and retreated up the marble staircase.
She found a quiet spot on the first floor and leaned against the balustrade, nursing another
glass of champagne and observing the masquerade below for signs of trouble.

A thickset Death Eater was leading Barty Crouch through the crowd and up the stairs. It must
be time for him to receive the Dark Mark. Lily wondered if that meant Severus and the other
Slytherins had arrived, too.

Her glass of champagne was half empty when movement at the far end of the hall caught her
eye. The door to the basement had opened, and a house-elf was scurrying between the legs of
the orchestra.

That was her cue. She walked purposefully past the Death Eater guards that circled the
balustrade, her back straight and head high, daring them to ask where she was going. None
paid her any mind, and when she reached the corridor that led to the war room, she broke into
a run. That house-elf was bound to warn Lord Voldemort that there had been a break-in, she
had only minutes to grab the diadem before he appeared on the first floor—

She disabled the ward on the war room door with a muttered breath and burst inside.

It took all of half a second to realise she'd made an enormous miscalculation. She stumbled to
a halt in the doorway, but it was too late.

The room wasn't empty. Lord Voldemort towered before her, his wand pressed to the
forehead of a kneeling, trembling Severus Snape.

Recklessness, whispered Felix Felicis, and dangerous overconfidence.

She hadn't thought about where Lord Voldemort was spending the masquerade. She hadn't
wondered where the Dark Mark ceremony would take place.

As she stared, her heart in her throat, frantically trying to explain why she'd interrupted the
ceremony, she noticed something curious.

Lord Voldemort didn't seem to realise she was there. His snake-like pupils were boring into
Severus' eyes, an expression of intense focus on his waxy, sunken face.

His distraction gave her the seconds she needed to compose herself. In a burst of Felix-driven
clarity, she understand what she had to do.

"My Lord," she cried, throwing herself at his feet, "I have been robbed! The key to my vault
is gone!"

Lord Voldemort recovered; he jerked backwards and turned those horrible eyes to her. "Rise,
Bellatrix," he snapped. "What is this about?"
Lily pushed herself upright, wailing. "My key, my precious key! Someone has taken it and
now it's GONE, IT'S BEEN STOLEN —"

"Calm yourself, Bella," said Lord Voldemort coldly. "Surely the key to your vault was simply
misplaced —"

He needed to believe her or this would all be over. "Misplaced?" she shrieked. "Impossible!
There must be Order members among the guests tonight, one of them must have —"

"You bore me." Lord Voldemort pointed a skeletal finger at the door. "Go, and do not return
until you have proof of your claims."

No. It couldn't end this way. She needed him to leave the room. "My Lord," said Lily
desperately, "I swear to you, please —"

The door to the war room opened. Lord Voldemort turned, and Lily took advantage of the
distraction to draw her wand. Standing in the doorway was the same house-elf she had seen
emerge from the basement.

Lord Voldemort's wand was drawn, too, and he trained it on the house-elf. "Your place is in
the kitchens, elf. Why do you disturb the Dark Lord?"

The house-elf trembled with terror. "Tippie is very sorry! Tippie is needing to tell you, sir,
there is being — there is —"

"Spit it out," said Lily. She slashed her wand threateningly, and the house-elf squealed,
though it hadn't actually been hurt.

"Intruders!" The house-elf wrung its ears. "Intruders in the kitchens — Tippie is seeing them,
they is going to the vaults —"

A distant boom echoed throughout the room. Lily stumbled, pretending to be knocked off-
balance, though she was secretly relieved by the sound. The Marauders — and her past self
— must have made it to the vault.

"The key!" she shouted, pretending to put the pieces together. "The intruders have my key —
they're headed to the vault of the Blacks —"

Lord Voldemort's scream was piercing. He moved with inhuman speed. "AVADA
KEDAVRA!"

Green light bloomed across Lily's retinas, blinding her. He's killed me, she thought. How did
he know?

Though her vision was awash with emerald green, the sensation of dying wasn't unpleasant.
In fact, it didn't feel like much at all. She waited, preparing to go unconscious, but her
eyesight was returning now. Had she not been hit by the Killing Curse, after all? Hardly
daring to believe it, she blinked until the last of the green light faded.

Lord Voldemort was gone, and the house-elf was dead.

She scrambled backwards, horrified, then realised that reaction would seem unusual of
Bellatrix. But Voldemort had already left the room, and Severus and his cronies were huddled
together in a corner, paying her no mind. They shuffled out of the war room without a
backward glance, and Lily was left alone with the still, wide-eyed body of a house-elf who
had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Lily knelt beside the house-elf. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "This is all my fault. If we
hadn't come you would still be alive, I'm so sorry…"

She wiped hot tears from her eyes, smudging black makeup onto her hand. There would be
time to mourn later, once she made it out of the abbey.

If she made it out of the abbey.

She straightened; the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw was watching her with impassive stone
eyes. Atop the great witch's head was a sparkling silver diadem, beautiful and woefully
unprotected. It was Lily's for the taking.

Bellatrix was tall, but Lily still had to stand on her toes to pluck the diadem from the statue's
brow. As soon as she touched it, she realised something truly strange: the diadem was ice
cold, and it was alive.

It quivered with excitement in her hands. The vibrations sang to Lily, urging her to put it on.
Wit beyond measure, promised the diadem, wit and cleverness and a way out.

Lily needed a way out. She was flying by the seat of her pants, but the diadem could help.
With Rowena's wisdom, she and the Marauders could escape the abbey unscathed. She could
have it all — the gold, the diadem, and James and the others alive and well.

She'd lifted the diadem halfway to her head when a feeling of unease stole through her. The
hum of Felix Felicis in her veins was at odds with the vibrating diadem, like two dissonant
chords. You don't need it, whispered Liquid Luck.

Maybe the potion was right. She'd made it this far through her own brilliance and sheer
nerve. What could the diadem offer that she didn't already have? There was no reason to
doubt her abilities now, not when she was so close to the end.

She no longer wanted to wear the diadem, but she couldn't seem to let go of it. Her fingers
curled around its sharp silver edges of their own accord, squeezing until drops of blood slid
down the cold metal surface. She needed to wear it like she needed to breathe.

But Lily Evans was nothing if not stubborn. With the last of her willpower, she shook one
hand free, Conjured a square of cloth, and wrapped the diadem in it. Immediately, the urge to
put it on lessened, and Lily was able to slip it into her pocket.
Evil thing, she thought with a shudder. Why had Rowena Ravenclaw created a diadem that
compelled its holder to wear it? Only cursed objects did that.

Suddenly, there was a heart-stopping, earsplitting blast, and the abbey was ripped apart. The
war room rocked, and shock waves rippled across the floor as the statue of Rowena
Ravenclaw fell towards Lily. She dove for cover beneath the carved wooden table just as the
statue hit the floor and shattered. Rowena's stern, stone face vanished from sight, buried by
rubble as the abbey caved in on itself.

It seemed to take ages for the bones of the abbey to stop shifting and groaning. When at last
everything was silent, Lily rose from underneath the table. The war room was
unrecognisable; piles of hewn stone and debris blocked the door, and a large chunk of the
ceiling had fallen on the table, crushing its intricate carvings and exposing a hole in the floor
above.

She set to work, Vanishing the wreckage in front of the door as quickly as she could. She
needed to leave, now, before Lord Voldemort realised she'd stolen more than gold.

At last, she was able to squeeze through the door, but upon entering the corridor, her heart
sank. There was no easy way to escape; the corridor looked like a caved-in tunnel, so much
of the second floor had collapsed into it.

As Lily clambered through the rubble, there was a scuffling sound ahead. She peered over a
large chunk of marble, wand tightly in hand, but the person making the noise wore familiar
black trainers and torn school robes. Her past self was coming towards her, climbing through
the wreckage hand over hand.

Lily remained hidden until her past self was out of sight. Then she leapt over the block of
marble and began to climb as well, following the route her past self had taken.

She hauled herself upwards and into a partially-cleared corridor on the second floor. Severus
and the other Slytherins were clustered together on one side of the corridor; Severus was
staring at nothing, as if in shock.

Lily had never wanted to curse someone so badly in her life. But every second mattered, and
time was running out.

"Where's she gone?!" demanded Lily, imitating Bellatrix's haughty tone and pretending to be
in pursuit. "The red-haired Mudblood — I saw her climb the stairs, she must have come this
way —"

She expected Severus to stutter, to trip over a badly-concocted lie about what he'd done, but
his voice was as flat as the surface of the Black Lake. "She was here. She Disarmed me, then
ran away." He pointed down the corridor.

He covered for me, thought Lily as she ran past. He helped my past self escape and he lied to
Bellatrix's face about it.

Poor Sev. He wouldn't last long as a Death Eater; he didn't have the spine for it.
This far down the corridor, sections of the roof had collapsed, and drizzles of rain soaked the
ruined carpet. Lily didn't care — she could see the clouded night sky, which meant she was
almost out of the abbey. She climbed up several thick timber beams that had fallen at an
angle. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the wet slate tiles of the caved-in roof, but still
she climbed, desperate to escape, the diadem unnaturally cold in her pocket.

At last, she hauled herself onto the roof. The slate tiles were slick with rain, and thunder
rumbled overhead as she picked her way around large, crumbling holes. She hastened
towards the parapet, going over the next steps in her mind. She would jump and slow her fall
with a spell, then run until she reached the limits of the abbey grounds. She'd force her way
through the protective enchantments around the abbey, blow a hole in the iron fence, then
keep running until she got to the Muggle village. From there, she would hide and send a
message to the Marauders. Then they'd all go back to Hogwarts, where they would be safe —

She was on the parapet when a shriek rent the air.

"BELLATRIX!"

Lightning flashed, illuminating the tall, pale form of Lord Voldemort. He stood at the other
end of the roof, rain sliding off his white, bald skull.

"They've taken the diadem," he hissed. "It must be recovered. Nothing else matters — it is
my most valuable, my most precious, it must —" His words were drowned by thunder. When
he spoke again, his voice was soft, but no less deadly. "Bellatrix?"

Lily stared at the grounds far below, drinking them in. She had been so close, but her luck
had finally run out. And if this was the end, she would not run from death.

She turned and locked eyes with Lord Voldemort. His red eyes widened, then narrowed to
slits. He hissed furiously.

"Where is Bellatrix?"

"She's dead," said Lily, but Voldemort only laughed.

"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, intruder! He knows, he always knows… AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Green light filled her vision, and she twisted blindly to the side — her feet slid on the wet
parapet, and as she stumbled, the spell arced over her shoulder and into the night.

Lord Voldemort's thin lips tightened into a displeased line. Lily drew her wand.

"Deprimo!" she screamed.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The roof beneath Lord Voldemort's feet collapsed, but he moved with inhuman speed, closing
the distance between them — but the movement had cost him, and his Killing Curse missed
her widely. She sent paired Stunning Spells at him, followed by a Blasting Curse, but he
flicked them aside with the barest gesture of his wand.
"Who are you?" he snarled, advancing on her. "Did the Order send you?"

"No." She hurled spell after spell at him, hoping to slow him down, but he parried each with
practised ease.

"Interesting." His voice was a purr. "I wasn't aware that I had enemies outside the Order."

He's toying with me, thought Lily, but she didn't know how to stop him. He was close enough
now that she'd have to jump off the roof to dodge any spell he cast, and then he could simply
lean over the parapet and murder her as she fell.

"I'm tempted to keep you," continued Voldemort. "Until the Polyjuice wears off, at least. I
want to look into your eyes as you die… I want to watch you suffer…"

He stood mere feet from her, his wand pointed at her face. Though she was soaked to the
core, the rain slid off him as though he were made of wax.

"Your soul shall be a feast for my Death Eaters. Your body a soldier in my army of Inferi."

Shakily, Lily pocketed her wand. No spell could save her now. But as her fingers brushed
against the unnatural cold of the diadem, she had one last, desperate idea.

"You want the diadem so badly?" she said. "Go get it."

She drew the silver tiara from her pocket and hurled it into the smoking crater in the centre of
the abbey roof. It was a stupid ploy, borne out of desperation, but to her surprise, Lord
Voldemort shrieked with fury and turned into smoke, barrelling after the diadem as it
disappeared into the ruined floors below.

Without hesitation, Lily flung herself off the parapet. She drew her wand just in time to slow
her fall, landing gracelessly in a large puddle. Then she ran as fast as she could, tearing
blindly through the gardens, rain and terror blurring her vision. She needed to go faster, to get
to the Muggle village —

Someone much larger and heavier than she was tackled her to the ground.

Lily screamed. She kicked as hard as she could, and her assailant grunted in pain, loosening
his grip on her. She scrambled to her feet, drawing her wand, but a large hand clasped around
her throat, pushing her against a tree.

As she struggled to breathe, the man raised his free hand, removing his black and white
mask. Though he still had some features of Heathcote Bulstrode, the Polyjuice Potion was
wearing off, and Sirius Black's grey eyes were unmistakable.

"No," gasped Lily. "No, Sirius, please —"

Sirius' face twisted in a mirthless grin. "Thought that was you, Bellatrix," he said. "Ready to
die, cousin?"
Chapter End Notes

Whew! That was a lot. Have a bit of space for a breather:

Ok, now that you've recovered, I have been *dying* to share this chapter ever since I
wrote it, so I would love to hear your thoughts! (Also, if you re-read the masquerade
chapters, Lily-as-Bellatrix is totally lurking in the background the whole time, hehehe.)
Thanks for reading!
 Flight From the Abbey

James tore through the abbey gardens, Remus and Peter at his heels. With every stride, he
resisted the urge to go faster, to catch up with Sirius, who had gone ahead in hopes of
disabling the enchantments around the abbey. But he couldn't leave Remus and Peter behind,
even though Remus was flagging, and Peter had never been fast —

Red and silver lights flashed between the trees ahead. Someone was duelling, and judging by
the shouting, it was a duel to the death.

"Sirius," panted Remus. "They might have caught Sirius…"

"I know," said James. "Come on, we've got to hurry, let's go…"

Remus shook his head. "You go on, James. We'll catch up."

James didn't want to abandon them, but he couldn't let Sirius fight alone, either. "See you in a
minute," he said, and he picked up the pace, sprinting towards the duel, feet pounding against
sodden earth. He caught a glimpse of Sirius' long hair swinging as he darted through the
trees, firing spell after spell with a fury James had never seen from him.

"Alright, Padfoot?" called James.

Sirius parried a hex, breathing hard. The Polyjuice Potion was wearing off; he looked more
like himself than he did Heathcote. "Bellatrix," he said shortly.

James drew his wand. "We'll take her on together."

Sirius nodded and sent a Reductor Curse streaking through the trees, but the spell fizzled out
before it had gone more than ten feet.

Bellatrix Black stepped out from behind a tree, wand aloft. Her dark hair was plastered to her
skull, and gobs of black makeup ran down her cheeks. Upon seeing James, she hesitated.

"STUPEFY!" Sirius roared, but the witch arced her wand through the air and the Stunning
Spell bent, its trajectory changing, and it ricocheted into a tree trunk with a shower of red
sparks.

"Enough!" cried Bellatrix. "Sirius, please — this isn't Bellatrix, it's me, it's Lily — I swear
—"

"Don't listen to her, Prongs," growled Sirius as he sent a barrage of hexes towards her. "She's
been saying mad stuff since I found her, think the explosion must have knocked a screw
loose…"

James eyed Bellatrix apprehensively. Could she really be Lily in disguise?

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Sirius, and Bellatrix dove to the ground.

"STOP, Sirius, please — we need to talk, there isn't time —" She pushed herself up from the
ground, filthy with mud, looking desperate and utterly mad. "James," she pleaded, extending
a muddy hand. "Please, James, listen to me —"

"Don't let her fool you, Prongs," said Sirius. "Let's take care of her, and then we can get out
of here —"

Something was definitely off. James had thought he was joining a duel, but Bellatrix only
seemed to be defending herself. And would the real Bellatrix know his name? Would she
reach for him like that?

"She's right about one thing," said James. "We haven't got time for this. Let's Stun her and
take her with us — whatever's going on, we'll figure it out at Hogwarts."

"Fine by me," said Sirius, advancing on Bellatrix.

She ground her teeth in frustration. "God, you are not making this easy. Nobody's Stunning
me, if you would just listen —"

"It's two on one, darling," said Sirius with mock sweetness.

"Four on one," said a voice behind them. Remus and Peter stepped forward until they were
shoulder-to-shoulder with James.

"Fine." Bellatrix gripped her wand more tightly. "If that's what it's come to…"

She spun on her heel and sent four identical hexes at them. James cast a Shield Charm in
front of himself and Remus, and Sirius dodged out of the way, but Peter was too slow. His
limbs snapped together as the spell hit him, and he tumbled face-first into the wet dirt.

Bellatrix wasn't finished. "Expelliarmus!" she cried, twisting to avoid a curse from Sirius.
Remus' wand soared out of his hand; she caught it and continued to duel, sweeping Sirius'
feet out from under him with a Trip Jinx. "Incarcerous," she snarled, and a tangle of ropes
sprang into being, wrapping around Sirius as he thrashed uselessly on the ground.

Bellatrix stepped forward and plucked Sirius' wand from his hand. She turned to James,
whose Shield Charm formed a barrier between them.

"You won the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff by one hundred and ninety points," she
said softly. "Afterwards, there was a party in the common room and we practised duelling. I
beat the lot of you there, too. After that, we went to our dormitory, and I was quite hoping
you would invite me into your room, but you'd had too much Firewhisky and fell asleep on
the sofa."

She was so close that his Shield Charm cast an eerie, pale blue light across her sunken
cheekbones. She looked just like Bellatrix Lestrange.

"We've talked about joining the Order," she whispered. "We've talked about our life after the
war. You'll play Quidditch at the weekends and I'll drink Sirius' cocktails in the stands. We'll
eat fruitcake at our wedding."
James lowered his wand. The blue light of the Shield Charm vanished. "It is you. How —"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later if we've got the time."

There was a funny lilt to the way she said the word time. She was already walking away from
him, undoing the spells she had placed on the other Marauders and returning their wands.

"The fence around the abbey is just ahead," she said. "If I undo the protective enchantments,
can you blast a hole in it, Sirius?"

Sirius brushed damp leaves off his robes and gave James a look. "You really think she's
telling the truth?"

James nodded. "It's her, Padfoot." He extended a hand, helping Sirius to his feet, and they
followed Lily deeper into the wood.

"Get a Portkey ready, will you, James?" said Lily. She waved her wand at the wrought iron
fence that stretched before them. The air began to shimmer as she muttered incantations.
"Now, Sirius!"

Sirius pointed his wand at the slick black bars. "Depulso!"

The bars of the fence contorted outward with a horrible, metallic screech, twisting at odd
angles.

"Let's go," said Lily, ushering the others through the mangled gap. "Hurry, he'll have heard —
he'll know where we are — the Portkey, James, are you —"

"Working on it," said James. He grabbed her hand and together they stumbled through the
fence. As soon as they reached the other side, he pulled off one of his mud-spattered trainers
and held it out. "Everyone got a hold? One, two, three… Portus."

In the split second before the Portkey activated, he thought he saw dozens of black-robed
figures charging towards them from the abbey. A chorus of shouts, followed by innumerable
jets of green light, all streaking towards him, certain to hit —

Then a familiar, hook-like sensation tugged around his navel, and they were gone.

They appeared inside the Shrieking Shack, of course.

"Oh, good thinking, James," said Lily. For the first time all evening, she allowed herself to
relax, sagging against James as she let the relief sink in. There was no way the Death Eaters
knew where they were; for the moment, they were safe.
Warm, golden light blossomed in the corner of her vision as James lit the tip of his wand.
"Brilliant, it is you." He ran a gentle hand through her hair. "Couldn't tell back at the abbey
— it was too dark — but your hair's got loads of red streaks in it. The Polyjuice must be
wearing off."

"Shame," said Sirius, lifting the trapdoor to the tunnel. "Not that I'm not happy to have you
back, Wondergirl, but I was really hoping to do a spot of murder tonight. What happened to
the real Bellatrix?"

Lily smirked. "She's indisposed."

Peter's jaw dropped. "You duelled Bellatrix and won?"

"She didn't put up much of a fight, to be honest," said Lily. She frowned at Sirius, who was
kneeling on all fours by the trapdoor. "What are you doing?"

"Er, right," said Sirius. "Remember how we told you that turning into a rat was a Peter
thing?""

"Oh, God," said Lily. "You can all turn into rats?"

"Of course not, that'd be insane," said Sirius. "But we are unregistered Animagi. Do us a
favour and keep that quiet, yeah?"

"Animagi?" said Lily. "But I thought —" She turned accusingly to Remus. "You said it was
just an advanced form of Transfiguration!"

"Technically, that wasn't a lie," said Remus. He leaned his head against the wall and closed
his eyes, clearly exhausted.

"Ready, Pete?" said Sirius. To Lily, he added, "I'm faster on four legs than on two, and Peter
can reach the knot that freezes the Whomping Willow, so we'll go first and meet you in the
Heads' dormitory."

The only part of this sentence that Lily understood was 'Heads' dormitory'. "What on earth is
that supposed to me—" She broke off. In Sirius' place was a large, shaggy black dog.

"Lily, meet Padfoot," said James.

"Oh, my God," said Lily. "Your nicknames are based on your Animagus forms? How have
you not been caught?"

"We're incredibly discreet," said Remus, his eyes still closed. The dog barked a laugh.

Lily smiled despite herself and ran her fingers through Padfoot's fur. "It is very clever magic,"
she admitted as the dog rolled over, exposing its belly. "You're a good boy, aren't you,
Padfoot?"

"We'll be here all night if you pet him," said James. "Go on, Pads, we need to get back to the
castle…"
Padfoot rose with a huff. A sandy rat scuttled onto the dog's back, and together they leapt into
the tunnel and raced away.

Lily still couldn't believe the Marauders had somehow managed to become Animagi without
anybody noticing. "What's yours look like?" she asked James, wondering if he might be an
eagle, or a hawk. He did love to fly, after all.

"You'll see once we're out of the tunnel," he replied with a wink. "Come on, then…"

Ten minutes later, they emerged from beneath the Whomping Willow to a clear night sky.
Lily tipped her head back, drinking in the starlight. She'd never been so happy to be back at
Hogwarts. They were safe, really and truly safe; Lord Voldemort couldn't touch them here.

James appeared to be thinking along similar lines. He stretched his long arms in the air,
looking pleased. "We made it. Unbelievable."

A slight breeze ruffled Lily's hair, which had an unmistakable copper sheen to it now, and she
smiled, happy to look more like herself. "Do I get to see your Animagus form now?"

"Oh, yeah," said James. "Who wants a ride back to the castle?"

"I thought you'd never ask," said Remus.

Lily stared as the boy she loved transformed into an enormous stag. "Prongs," she said with a
little laugh, reaching for him. The stag folded its forelegs in a deep bow, and she rubbed the
patch of black fur between his antlers.

Remus clambered onto the stag's back. "Lily, have you got the Marauder's Map?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, and she reluctantly stopped petting the stag. "It's in my bag, hang on…"

Once they were both atop the stag, Prongs rose and began to trot towards the castle. "This is
fantastic," said Lily, swaying to keep her balance. "I've never ridden a horse before…"

The stag tossed its head with a derisive snort, taking obvious offence.

"Prongs must really like you, Lily," said Remus. "If anyone else had called him a horse, he'd
have trampled them to a pulp." He scanned the Marauder's Map as they drew near the castle
doors. "Filch is still awake, the bastard. We'll have to take the shortcut on the fourth floor to
avoid him."

The Entrance Hall lay dark and still, and the hidden stairwell on the fourth floor was
blissfully unguarded. "Ad Meliora," said James when they reached the portrait of the Fat
Lady, though the painting was already opening to reveal the common room.

Inside the Heads' dormitory, Peter and Sirius were sprawled across the sofa. James collapsed
into the yellow armchair by the hearth, pulling Lily onto his lap, while Remus sat on the
floor.
Sirius' eyes were closed, and Lily thought he might have been sleeping, but after a moment
he spoke. "That was a fucking disaster."

"At least we're alive," said James, rubbing his thumb in circles across Lily's back.

"Some consolation." Sirius ran a hand through his damp hair, sighing. "I shouldn't have gone
after the family fortune. That buggered everything up. We could've had the diadem if I hadn't
— if I'd just stuck to the plan…"

Lily shut her eyes, enjoying the feeling of James' thumb against her spine. "We couldn't have
stolen the diadem anyway, Sirius. Lord Voldemort was in the war room, doing some sort of
Death Eater initiation ritual. He would have murdered us on the spot."

"You're joking." Sirius groaned. "There was no point in attending the masquerade at all, then.
What an utter failure."

Lily hummed, fingering the red suede bag in her lap. "Calling it a failure's a bit harsh, don't
you think?"

"What would you call it, then? We've got no diadem, no gold —"

"Haven't we?" said Lily innocently.

Sirius picked his head off the sofa, grey eyes boring through her. "What are you saying? The
vault was empty, we all saw —"

Lily tossed her handbag to him, and he caught it with the deftness of a Quidditch player.
"Have a look inside," she said.

Sirius opened the bag and peered inside. His face worked through a series of emotions: first
confusion, then disbelief, then astonishment.

"Wondergirl," he said slowly. "You didn't…"

Peter craned his neck. "What's in there?"

In response, Sirius flipped the bag upside-down. A river of gold and silver coins spilt out,
carpeting the floor in such a thick layer that Remus had to clamber to his feet. Shining
silverware and flawless gemstones tumbled to the floor, only to be buried beneath the ever-
growing pile of Galleons, which now reached the height of the sofa cushions, and still coins
continued to pour out of the bag —

"Enough, Padfoot, before we drown in riches," said James, and Sirius reluctantly closed the
bag.

"This is all from the vault?" Sirius asked, and Lily nodded. He waved his wand, and a
generous portion of coins stacked themselves into a glittering tower. "Your payment," he said,
pushing the stack of Galleons towards her, "as promised. Plus a little extra for exceeding
expectations."
Peter's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Where's mine?" he asked eagerly.

Sirius wagged a finger at him. "You agreed to work for free, Pete! Consider this a lesson for
next time."

"I didn't know getting paid was an option!"

Remus examined a dagger in a jewelled sheath, turning it over in his hands. "How did you do
it, Lily?" he asked softly.

In response, Lily pulled the golden necklace over her head and handed it to him. "That's a
Time-Turner," she said, gesturing to the hourglass that swung on the chain. "I got it from
Severus at the masquerade. Turning the hourglass takes you back in time, so I was able to
disguise myself as Bellatrix and get to the vault before the masquerade even started."

"Incredible," said Sirius, peering at the Time-Turner. "The things we could do with this —"

"I'm not using it again." Lily rose from James' lap and took the necklace back from Remus.
She knelt by the hearth, using her wand to light a fire.

"Why not?" asked Sirius. "It'd come in handy…"

She shook her head. "Messing with time is too dangerous. Besides, I don't think anything that
Sev was using could be a force for good." She pulled two wands from her pocket, which had
formerly belonged to Severus and Bellatrix. With a sharp, satisfying crack, she snapped them
in half and tossed them into the fire.

The Marauders gaped at her. "Were those… wands?" said Peter weakly.

Lily grinned. "Looks like Sev and Bellatrix will have to make a trip to Ollivanders."

Peter moaned as she picked up the Time-Turner, holding it inches from the blazing hearth.
"You're sure you don't want to keep it? Just in case?"

"It really isn't worth it, Peter," said Lily, and she tossed the necklace into the fire. Flames
licked up the sides of the Time-Turner, melting it into a lump of gold and glass. Peter made a
strangled sound, as if he was in pain.

"It's the right call, Pete," said James, sitting up in the armchair. "Time-Turners are nasty
things. Use it once, and suddenly you're finding excuses to use it all the time. Eventually
you'll slip up, create a paradox, and unmake yourself and everybody you love. There's loads
of stories about wizards like that. Better not to have the temptation."

By the time the fire had burnt to embers, the Marauders were fast asleep. But Lily felt more
awake than ever; she sat by the hearth, head on her knees, staring at the piles of Galleons that
littered the floor, winking in the dying firelight.

In the armchair, James stirred. "Alright, Lily?" he said drowsily.

She didn't know if she was. She'd experienced so many emotions in the past day, and now she
felt nothing at all. "Alright," she whispered.

James leaned towards her, extending a hand. "Wanna talk about it?"

She curled her fingers around his and nodded. He jerked his head towards his bedroom door.
"Come on."

Carefully, they tiptoed around the mountains of gold coins and into James' bedroom. It was
Lily's first time inside his room, though she'd caught glimpses before: large posters of
Puddlemere United players covered the walls, and the desk in the corner was so overflowing
with papers that some were on the floor.

As she looked around, James stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. The decor
immediately ceased to be interesting, and she closed her eyes, relaxing into the warmth and
safety of his arms.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he whispered.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Me, too."

"Should've known better than to worry about you, though," he said, stroking her hair. "You
were brilliant. Posing as Bellatrix, swiping the fortune from the vault… Godric Gryffindor
himself couldn't have been more daring."

"I took quite a lot of Felix Felicis," she admitted. "It was hard to feel afraid, for a while."

"Nah, don't be modest. Your talent brought you back to us, not some dumb potion."

"I suppose that's true. I did brew it, after all."

"Wondergirl," he said affectionately, kissing the top of her head.

He didn't seem to be in a hurry to let her go, which was fine by Lily. Every second in his
arms soothed over the terror of the evening, calming her until the horrors at the abbey felt no
more real than a nightmare.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she whispered.

"Course I do."

"I almost had the diadem, too."

The hand that was stroking her hair stilled. "You did? But you said — Lord Voldemort was in
the war room, wasn't he?"

"I took it after he left. I almost got out of the abbey with it, but he — he found me." Her voice
hitched. "I was on the roof and we — we duelled, except I think he could have killed me
whenever he liked, and I had to throw the diadem at him to get away. Voldemort went after
the diadem instead of me. Isn't that odd?" She tried to sound casual, but her voice rose to a
quavering, unnatural pitch.

"Hey." James pressed a palm between her shoulder blades, where her muscles were tense.
"It's okay. I've got you."

Tears blurred her vision. "It's just — seeing him up close like that — he isn't human, James. I
don't know if he ever was. It was like staring death in the face, there was no escape, and I
don't know why he didn't kill me. He should have done."

James cupped her face gently in his hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "He didn't kill
you because you're brilliant. Because even someone like him can recognise when they've
been beaten. And I bet he was dying to know who had done it."

Lily chewed on her lip, searching James' face. The adoration in his eyes was a balm, a
remedy when her entire being felt anxious and raw. "We'll have to face him again, won't we?"

His gaze didn't waver from hers. "Yeah," he said. "I expect we will."

"Then I'm glad I'm with you," she said, and she kissed him, hoping he could feel how much
she needed him, how glad she was that he was confident and unshakable and alive.

"Do you want to sleep in here tonight?" he asked when they paused for breath.

Lily raised her eyebrows. "You're asking me to sleep with you?"

"Oh, no, that's —" James ran both hands through his hair, flustered. "That's not what I meant,
I don't want to sleep with you — I mean, I do, but not tonight, not after the day you've had —
unless you wanted to, that is —"

"James." She silenced him with a kiss. "I'd love to."

"Er. You'd love to sleep in here? Or you'd love to sleep with —"

"Yes," she said with a grin.

They took turns showering in James' bathroom; Lily spent so long under the hot water that
Petunia would have yelled at her, had she been at home. The steaming, scalding water swirled
down the drain as the last traces of grime washed from her skin. She imagined the water was
washing away every part of her that had once been Bellatrix, too.

When she had finished, she Conjured a pair of pyjamas and crawled into James' bed. He was
already beneath the sheets with his eyes closed, but he rolled to face her as she joined him.

"Alright, Lily?"

"Fantastic."

He ran his fingers through her damp hair. "I was wondering about something."
"Yeah?"

"Before we got separated at the masquerade, you told me something. I was wondering if you
meant it."

"Oh." She pulled up the collar of her pyjamas to hide her face, feeling suddenly shy. "Of
course I meant it."

"You don't have to say that just to say it. It's alright if you don't —"

"James." She placed a hand on his cheek. "I love you."

He let out a long sigh, and the muscles in his jaw relaxed beneath her fingertips. "Good.
Because I love you too, and I have for ages, so it would have been really rotten if you didn't
feel the same way."

"I've loved you for ages, too. Luckily for you."

"You have?" he asked.

She nodded. "And I'm not just saying that, you know. I really do love you."

"I know," said James, and he pressed his lips to her brow. "I love you, too."

Severus sat on a chunk of stone in a corner of Walpurgis Abbey's main hall, alongside
Regulus, Avery, and Barty Crouch. The rescue efforts had ended, and the guests who hadn't
been recovered were presumed dead, which left Severus and the others with nothing to do.
Every so often, Regulus stood, propelled by a nervous burst of energy, and surveyed the ruins
of the main hall before returning to his seat.

Severus, on the other hand, didn't move. He hunched half-hidden by a fractured portion of
balustrade that had fallen from the floor above, tracking each Death Eater that clomped
across the rubble. One of them would come for him. He was certain of it.

He'd betrayed the cause by helping Lily Evans escape. Even worse, every thought he'd ever
had about her betrayed the cause. Lord Voldemort himself had come dangerously close to
pulling the truth out of Severus' mind; surely he would call Severus back to the war room to
finish the job. Surely Severus would be murdered before the night was out for his unrequited
betrayal of everything the Dark Lord stood for.

But even as he waited, nobody came to take him away. Occasionally, men in silver masks
passed by the alcove, and he caught snatches of conversation. The Black family vault had
been emptied, and though nobody had seen the thieves, they had presumably been sent by the
Order. The Dark Lord had slaughtered more than half the abbey guards as punishment for
letting the intruders in. Bellatrix Black had been found unconscious in her room, and nobody
knew how to revive her.

At last, a masked, broad-shouldered Death Eater emerged from the dining hall and made a
beeline towards Severus and the others. Regulus leapt to his feet, but Severus remained
sitting, pretending he hadn't noticed. This was it. The Death Eater was going to grab him and
march him straight to Lord Voldemort. His death was imminent — why hasten things by
standing up?

Upon reaching them, the Death Eater crossed his arms. "You're a sorry lot."

Severus would know that voice anywhere. He closed his eyes. Mulciber. Of all the injustices,
this was arguably the worst. His rival and former mentor was going to escort him to the Dark
Lord. If only it had been anyone else —

"The Dark Lord wants to see you, Edmund," said Mulciber.

Severus obediently slid off the hunk of stone before Mulciber's words fully registered. Had he
said Edmund? Not Severus, not Snape — Edmund, as in Edmund Avery?

Perhaps Severus had hallucinated hearing Avery's name instead of his own. His mind was
playing tricks on him, trying to spare him the agony of impending death. But if that was the
case, why were Regulus and Crouch also gawking at Mulciber?

"What does the Dark Lord want with Edmund?" asked Regulus.

Mulciber shrugged. "You coming, or what?" he barked at Avery, who jumped.

As Mulciber and Avery disappeared into the dining hall, Severus resumed his position on the
stone. Regulus sat next to him, looking worried.

"Why would the Dark Lord request an audience with Edmund?"

"I've no idea," said Severus. "Perhaps he needed another warm body to torture."

Crouch had appeared dazed and unfocused since his head injury during the explosion, but his
expression grew suddenly keen. "I don't think so. The Dark Lord seems to have grown tired
of maiming and killing. I bet he's got plans for Avery."

Regulus looked at him askance. "I thought you were concussed!"

"Fooled you, didn't I?" Crouch grinned. "Thought faking an injury would help me fly under
the radar."

Regulus was indignant, but Severus hushed him before he could respond. "Augustus is
coming back."

Mulciber re-approached them, beckoning them out of the alcove. "Time for you lot to go
back to Hogwarts," he said. "There's a hearth in the dining hall you can use. Go on, catch up
with Avery…"
The dining hall had been untouched by the explosion, but it was empty save for a single,
sinister figure at the high table. Lord Voldemort reclined in a high-backed, golden chair as if
he were on a throne, sipping from a golden goblet. In front of the table lay a small pile of
motionless bodies, their limbs at odd angles, faces still covered by silver masks.

Avery was in front of a roaring hearth at the far end of the hall, a small, lumpy parcel in his
hands. The quickest way to the hearth required passing the high table, and as Severus and the
others stepped over the bodies, Lord Voldemort raised his goblet. A sardonic smile played on
his cracked, white lips.

"To my newest Followers," he said, and he drank deeply from the cup. "May you aid Edmund
Avery in his mission."

Severus wondered if he ought to break it to the Dark Lord that Avery's mind had been addled
months ago; he couldn't be entrusted with tying his own shoes, let alone a private mission.
But questioning the Dark Lord was likely the quickest way to join the pile of bodies on the
floor, so Severus said nothing.

When they reached the hearth, Avery didn't so much as look at them. Instead, he stepped into
the emerald flames, still clutching the oddly-shaped parcel. "Dungeon Thirteen," he said.

Severus went next. Though the twists and turns of the Floo Network nearly made him retch,
he was oddly grateful for the nausea. Every queasy second that passed took him further from
Lord Voldemort, until he was so far away the Dark Lord could no longer touch him.

The Floo spat him out onto the pristine white rug in Dungeon Thirteen. Avery was already by
the gilded door; as soon as Regulus and Crouch had tumbled out of the fireplace, Avery
marched into the dungeons of Hogwarts.

Severus hurried to keep up, with Regulus and Crouch close behind. "Where are you going?"
he hissed, so close that his shoes bit at Avery's heels.

"The seventh floor," responded Avery in a curious tone. He no longer sounded childish and
slow — on the contrary, there was a sharpness to his voice that Severus hadn't heard in years.
"You may escort me there, but no further. The task I have been assigned is mine alone."

Severus exchanged a look with Regulus. "Did… did the Dark Lord heal you?" he asked
Avery.

Avery laughed. The sound was high and without any real humour, sending a shiver down
Severus' spine. Avery had never laughed like that before: not during his first five years at
Hogwarts, and certainly not after his mind had been broken. "In a manner of speaking," said
Avery. "You could say the Dark Lord needed a vessel, and I was ready and willing."

When they reached the Entrance Hall, Avery paused. "You are to protect me from any
teachers or students who attempt to do me harm," he said imperiously. "With your lives, if
need be."
Barty Crouch snorted. "I hate to break it to you, Edmund, but we're at Hogwarts. No teacher
is going to attack us, much less murder us. The worst they'll do is give us detention."

Avery ignored him, withdrawing the small parcel from his robes. "Should I fall, one of you
must open this package. It contains a priceless treasure, one worth more than all the lives in
this castle combined. It must be hidden and protected. Put it on, and it will guide your way.
This is of the utmost importance — nothing you have done in your lives matters as much as
this."

"Put it on?" echoed Regulus, eyeing the lumpy package. "What's in there? A hat?"

"Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem." Avery stroked the parcel lovingly, and Severus remembered
the silver tiara atop the statue in the war room. "It but touched my brow, and my mind was
restored… then the presence of the Dark Lord entered me, and told me what we must do…"

"I see," said Severus evenly. Beside him, Regulus looked shaken, but Severus refused to let
Avery see his discomfort. One thing was certain: the diadem might have restored Avery's
intelligence, but it had been at the cost of his soul.

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning as they climbed to the seventh floor, and the castle
was quiet. The prefects had finished their rounds hours ago, and even Filch had turned in for
the night. Avery forced Severus and Regulus to lead the way, as though the corridors might
be lined with traps, but the snoring portraits on the walls paid them no mind. Even the
moving staircases had drifted into their proper places, and they reached the seventh floor
without incident.

"This is where we part ways," said Avery. "What happens next, I must do alone."

"Fine by me," said Crouch.

Severus rankled. Crouch was not the mentor — he should have waited for Severus to speak
first. But now was not the time for petty squabbles. "May Salazar guide your way, Edmund."

Avery laughed again, that horrible, high-pitched laugh. "Oh, he does, Severus. More than you
know." He pulled his wand from his robes and handed it to Severus. "By the way. I won't be
needing this anymore, and I heard you needed a new one. Works out, doesn't it?"

A terrible sense of foreboding curdled Severus' insides like expired milk. "I don't want your
wand."

"And I didn't want brain damage from your incompetence." Avery spoke without bitterness,
as though merely stating a fact. "Goodbye, Severus." He turned down a nearby corridor and
vanished from sight.

Severus waited until he could no longer hear Avery's measured footsteps against the stone
floor. Then he pointed Avery's wand at Regulus and Crouch and cast Disillusionment Charms
on them both.
Regulus' grey eyes, wide with distress, were the last part of him to disappear. "Are we going
to follow Edmund?"

"Obviously." Severus put his wand to his temple and Disillusioned himself.

A groan came from the spot where Crouch had been standing. "Seriously? He was quite clear
about doing it alone. Why don't you let him?"

"He's my responsibility," replied Severus icily.

"No, he's not. He's the Dark Lord's responsibility. And the Dark Lord wants him to do this, so
why don't we all go back to our common rooms —"

"I am Edmund's mentor," said Severus through gritted teeth. "And unlike the Dark Lord, I
care whether he lives or dies."

He took off, paying no attention to whether Regulus or Crouch followed him. At the end of
the corridor, Avery came into view; he was pacing back and forth, still clutching the diadem.
A doorknob emerged from the wall like a weed springing up from cobblestones, and he
disappeared into a room that, moments earlier, hadn't existed.

Severus hastened to the door, but the doorknob melted back into the wall before he had even
had a chance to touch it. He swore under his breath, using the language his father used, not
the silly euphemisms he'd learned in school.

"Where did Edmund go?" asked a disembodied voice uncomfortably close to Severus' ear.

Severus nearly jumped out of his skin. "Salazar's fangs, Regulus. How long have you been
here?"

"Sorry." The voice grew softer as Regulus backed away. "I've been keeping pace with you the
whole time. I think Barty went back to his common room, though."

"Good riddance," said Severus.

"Are you going to wait here until Edmund comes out?"

"That is the plan, yes."

There was a scraping sound as Regulus presumably slid down the wall to sit on the floor. "I'll
wait with you. We can keep watch — that way we can take turns getting some sleep. I'll take
the first watch."

Severus couldn't help but be suspicious. "That's awfully selfless of you."

"Well, you have N.E.W.T.s tomorrow, don't you? Today, technically."

Severus had forgotten about N.E.W.T.s. He hadn't expected to survive being Marked; it had
been difficult to revise for exams he didn't think he would be alive to take. Yet here he was,
an angry, throbbing brand on his forearm and mere hours away from his written Charms
exam. It was strange, the way life worked.

"Maybe I should study," he said.

Regulus let out a little exhale that might have been half of a laugh. "You're joking," he said,
sounding awed.

"Of course not. I never joke."

"That's a shame. You're funny when you want to be."

As if he would ever ingratiate himself with others by making them laugh. What a repulsive
suggestion. "Wake me in an hour," said Severus, closing his eyes.
 N.E.W.T.s

When at last Regulus put a hand on Severus' shoulder, light was streaming through the
windows of the corridor.

Severus opened one eye, irate. "I told you to wake me in an hour. Not in five."

"Six," said Regulus apologetically. He looked as solid as ever; the Disillusionment Charms
had long since worn off. "I couldn't sleep, anyway. Avery never came out of that hidden
room."

The sick, gnawing feeling in Severus' stomach returned. "Perhaps he took a shortcut back to
the common room."

"It's possible," said Regulus, though he didn't sound convinced. "Shall we check? We've got
half an hour before N.E.W.T.s begin…"

But Avery was not in the Slytherin common room. The seventh year dormitory was empty, as
well; most of the beds were unmade, green silk sheets twisted and tangled. Only Severus' and
Avery's beds were tidy, still awaiting their occupants.

"Edmund didn't sleep here last night," said Severus. He waited for Regulus to say I told you
so.

Regulus took the high road, which was annoying. "He didn't leave that room on the seventh
floor. I would have seen him."

"I haven't got time to go back there, if that's what you're suggesting. I'm supposed to be in the
Great Hall in ten minutes."

"I'll go," said Regulus. "I have a free period this morning. If I figure out how to access that
room —"

"— do not enter without me."

"Of course not, how stupid do you think I am? I'm not a Gryffindor."

"Thank Merlin for that," said Severus. "I'll meet you on the seventh floor this evening."

In the end, Severus was glad he hadn't bothered to study for his N.E.W.T.s. The Charms
exam, at least, was a complete joke. The only question he couldn't answer was about the
practical applications of Infatuation Charms, which had fallen so out of favour in the past
century that they were practically obsolete. Luckily, the Hufflepuff girl sitting in front of him
was scribbling furiously on her parchment; her mind was such an open book that he lifted the
answer from her brain with only the slightest push of Legilimency.
Legilimency couldn't save Severus during the practical exam that afternoon, though. He
performed adequately — better, in fact, than the dozen other students who were being
examined alongside him — but Avery's wand felt unresponsive in his hands. It was as if the
wand could only cast textbook versions of spells: it stubbornly refused to add any flair or
finesse whatsoever. Midway through, while casting a Bubble-Head Charm so ordinary that
even the examiner yawned, Severus wondered if he ought to ask Lily for his wand back.

Probably not, he thought. He'd caught a glimpse of her during the written exam that morning,
and she'd looked no worse for the wear despite escaping from Walpurgis Abbey only hours
earlier. Anyone who could outwit the Dark Lord's inner circle — not to mention the Dark
Lord himself — could probably turn Severus to ashes without a second thought. And she had
promised to kill him if their paths ever crossed again.

After the Charms practical was over, Severus skipped dinner and returned to the seventh floor
corridor where he'd last seen Avery. Regulus was there, his eyes screwed up as he stared at
the wall. He was either incredibly constipated, or else attempting to summon the door
through sheer force of will.

"How did the exams go?" asked Regulus, taking a break from pulling faces at the wall.

"Spectacular. I expect the Dark Lord will be tremendously proud."

Regulus' lip twitched. "He'll hang your twelve N.E.W.T.s on the abbey notice board, I'm
sure."

"What an honour that will be," said Severus drily. "Have you discovered how to enter the
room?"

Regulus shook his head. "I'm hoping you'll have more luck than I did."

Severus turned towards the wall, but staring at it like Regulus had been doing seemed like an
utterly stupid plan. Avery hadn't stared at the wall — he'd paced in front of it. Lacking any
better ideas, Severus began to do the same, striding up and down the corridor. Avery hadn't
muttered a password, or even used a wand. Was it possible that he'd thought his way in?

It was a foolish thing to try, but Severus had no better ideas. I need to see Edmund Avery, he
thought. Reveal your secrets, so that I may enter.

But no doorknob appeared on the wall.

Severus tried again. I must follow Avery. Show me the place where he went.

The wall stubbornly remained a wall.

Perhaps he ought to attempt a different tack. Focusing on the diadem might yield better
results. After all, Avery's true purpose in accessing the room had been to hide the diadem —
that Avery had not re-emerged was likely incidental.

I need to find the diadem… thought Severus, closing his eyes. I must enter the place where
the diadem is hidden… I need to find the diadem…
"Severus," called Regulus, and Severus' eyes flew open.

A door had appeared in the wall.

Severus hurried to turn the knob. He was certain the diadem would be just inside, displayed
in the centre of the room like a priceless work of art at a museum. Avery would be in the
corner, perhaps, acting as a guard —

His stomach lurched as he entered the room. This was no museum gallery.

The place was massive, larger than a cathedral, perhaps larger than Walpurgis Abbey itself —
it was hard to say for certain how big the room was, as he could not see its walls. Mountains
of objects loomed above him: chairs with missing legs stacked on cabinets and trophy cases,
a bundle of ancient broomsticks leaning against an enormous stuffed troll. Interspersed at
random were tall columns of battered books and wobbling towers of corked bottles. The
sheer quantity of junk was overwhelming.

Severus' heart grew heavy as stone. He had been here before; he'd hidden a mirror inside this
room only a year ago, though it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. It would take ages
to find Avery in this labyrinth of discarded objects — if they were able to find him at all.

Regulus stared at the room, despair evident on his thin face. When he realised Severus was
watching him, he composed himself and gave Severus a small, sharp nod.

Severus nodded back. He didn't need Legilimency to know that he and Regulus were of one
mind. Finding Avery was a hopeless proposition; still, they had to try.

The search took hours. They called Avery's name, Vanished huge swaths of piled-up rubbish,
and even flew about the place on one of the ancient brooms. They scrutinised each discarded
artefact before Vanishing it, searching for any hint that Avery might have touched something
while walking by. After trying every spell they knew to reveal the presence of the living,
Regulus gently suggested they use spells for the dead, too. Even those were unsuccessful; the
room had taken Avery, and it refused to give him back.

Severus didn't want to stop searching. He considered forgoing his N.E.W.T.s entirely — he
could live in this room until he found Avery, he could stay in the castle over the summer if he
needed to. He owed Avery that much. But he was the mentor of the Followers, and if anyone
was going to call off the search, it had to be him.

"That's enough," he said at last.

Regulus had been examining a dented gramophone, but at Severus' words he went still. He
bowed his head.

"Let's go back to the common room," said Severus.

Regulus' voice cracked. "The next pile might —"

"We've done enough."

They were silent as they left the Room of Hidden Things. On the way to the dungeons, every
nook and cranny in the castle seemed stuffed full of loud, boisterous students blowing off
steam after the day's exams. Severus thought the laughter might make his ears bleed. He
didn't understand how such gaiety could coexist alongside Avery's absence. One less student
called Hogwarts home; how could the others not feel the loss?

When they returned to the dungeons, Regulus spoke.

"I'd hoped…" He trailed off, then tried again. "It seemed like the diadem had fixed him. I
thought Edmund might've — might've found a way —"

"The diadem didn't fix him," said Severus. "He wasn't himself."

"He was smarter, though. Cleverer."

"Exactly. Edmund Avery was never smart or clever." They turned down a damp, mossy
corridor. "You never got a chance to know him, not as he originally was. He wasn't the same
after you Obliviated him last year."

"Do you think he's dead?"

Severus lowered his eyes. His tattered shoes slapped against the slimy stone floor. "I think
there's a reason the Dark Lord chose Edmund for this task over either of us. He likely thought
Edmund was the most… disposable."

"Because Edmund's mind was addled."

Severus nodded stiffly.

Regulus' voice was a whisper. "His blood is on our hands, then."

"No," said Severus. "Edmund chose to serve the Dark Lord. He wanted to be a Follower for
years. These consequences would not have surprised him."

Regulus said nothing, clearly unconvinced.

"Besides," said Severus, "you are valuable for your money, and I for my intelligence. Even if
Edmund had been in full possession of his faculties, he still would have been chosen for this
task. You and I are too important." For now, he added silently.

He had expected Regulus to be relieved at this logic, but the blood drained from Regulus'
face.

"What is it?"

"The Black family fortune's gone," said Regulus. "So there was no reason for the Dark Lord
to choose me over Edmund."

"I will remind you that Edmund had suffered serious brain damage, making him less valuable
in the eyes of the Dark Lord."
"Yes, but… going forward. If the Dark Lord needs another… volunteer. There's nothing to
keep him from picking me anymore, he could — I could be next —"

"Oh, stop panicking," said Severus. "Your sense of self-preservation has gotten you this far. I
expect it will carry you through the rest of the war, as well."

When they reached the entrance to the common room, Regulus spoke again. "The Dark Lord
was willing to sacrifice Edmund to hide the diadem. He killed several Death Eaters because
he was furious that the diadem was nearly stolen."

"So?"

"I understand why he thought Edmund was expendable — even though I don't agree. But
some of those Death Eaters were talented. Loyal. Difficult to replace. Why would he value an
object over the lives of his Followers?"

"Who knows why the Dark Lord does anything," said Severus, stepping into the common
room. "We are not privy to his motives, nor his thought process."

"Exactly. Nobody knows anything about him."

Severus sighed. He wished he still had that Time-Turner; he wanted to rewind everything. To
go back before Avery died, before they attacked Sally Dearborn, before Lucius Malfoy had
ever singled him out to be a Follower. Even before he'd been sorted into Slytherin —
Hufflepuff and Gryffindor would never have taken him, but he would have made a decent
Ravenclaw. "If you want to figure out why the Dark Lord sent Edmund to his death over that
diadem, then be my guest. But leave me out of it."

"Aren't you curious? About why —"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Regulus," snapped Severus. "I doubt the Dark Lord will appreciate
you meddling in his business."

Regulus' jaw was set. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"That is an astonishingly stupid position to take. You can't lie to the Dark Lord." Except
Severus had. Somehow.

"I don't care," said Regulus. "I'm going to figure it out. For Edmund."

"And when poking around gets you killed —"

Regulus' grey eyes were as unyielding as quartz. "Then I will have died seeking justice.
That's better than whatever hell awaits you, Sev."
Remus Lupin was thoroughly enjoying his N.E.W.T.s.

The schedule alone was delightful: written exams in the morning, lunch with friends,
afternoon practicals, and free time in the evening. There were no Death Eaters to outwit and
no threat of dying. His only opponent was himself, as the exams tested the knowledge he had
accumulated over the past seven years. N.E.W.T.s were the capstone of his time as a
Hogwarts student — the best years of his life — and he had no trouble rising to the
challenge.

He realised his cheer made him an outlier, so he did his best to hide it. Each morning while
waiting in the Entrance Hall for his name to be called, he forced himself to copy the worried
look of the other seventh years. After each exam, he pretended to be relieved, and
commiserated with Peter about the questions he’d missed. Personally, he wouldn’t have
minded an extra month of exams if it meant more time at Hogwarts, but he didn’t dare tell
Peter that.

The evenings were especially enjoyable. Instead of studying, he and the other Marauders
roamed the grounds of Hogwarts, retracing familiar paths. They wandered the edges of the
Forbidden Forest, had tea in Hagrid’s hut, and dared each other to touch the trunk of the
Whomping Willow. It had been years since they’d explored the grounds so aimlessly. Remus
wondered if the other Marauders, too, could feel their days as Hogwarts students drawing to a
close, like a candle burning down to its wick.

These were the last of the happiest days of his life, and he was determined to soak up every
moment. He wanted memories of Hogwarts to be stamped upon his cerebral cortex: the runny
eggs served during breakfast in the Great Hall, the sound of a hundred quills scratching on
parchment, each vibrant orange sunset over the mountains. Soon it would all be over, but he
would take as much of Hogwarts with him as he could.

Because memories were all he would have after joining the Order. There would be no
returning to the castle as a teacher, since Dumbledore had refused him that opportunity. And
there was nothing else Remus could imagine doing; his lycanthropy would make it
impossible to hold a regular job. There was no point in trying.

So he would join the Order, although he didn’t want to. He would repay Dumbledore for the
kindness of these seven years. And eventually — if he was very, very lucky — the war would
be over, and perhaps he and Sirius could return to Hogwarts once more.

During the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical on Thursday afternoon, Remus caught
his first sight of Professor Prewett since attending the masquerade. The professor stood near
the staff table in the Great Hall, hands in his pockets and violet scarf tossed jauntily over one
shoulder, observing the seventh years as they were called and examined in turn.

Remus finished casting a Hex-Breaking Charm for his examiner, pretending like he hadn’t
noticed Professor Prewett’s presence, but an ember of embarrassment burned deep in his gut.
He’d been naive to believe that Professor Prewett had been someone he could look up to.
He’d seen himself in the Defence professor and had hoped that one day he, too, could be a
queer, part-human professor teaching his favourite subject.
And perhaps he still could, but it would be on Dumbledore’s say-so. After all, Dumbledore
had manoeuvred Professor Prewett into place, knowing Remus would look up to him, all so
Remus would want to join the Order.

He didn’t know how much of Dumbledore’s scheme Professor Prewett had been privy to.
Regardless, he wanted nothing more to do with the Defence professor.

“Oh, splendidly done,” croaked the examiner, an ancient wizard whose wrinkled skin
resembled tree bark. “A wonderful demonstration of the Hex-Breaking Charm. My last task
for you, then…” The examiner leaned forward, a sly look in his misty eyes. “I’ve been told
that some in your year are capable of casting a corporeal Patronus. You don’t happen to be
one of them, do you?”

Remus closed his eyes, remembering how it had felt to escape from Walpurgis Abbey. The
intoxicating, sedating relief that had nearly brought him to his knees in the Shrieking Shack.
How glad he was that his friends were alive and safe at Hogwarts.

“Expecto Patronum!”

The silver dog leapt into being and raced around the hall, trailing pearly mist. It slowed to a
trot as it returned to Remus, tongue lolling happily out of its mouth.

“Good boy.” Remus placed a hand on its muzzle, and the dog dissolved into mist.

The sound of soft applause drew his attention. At the staff table, Professor Prewett was
clapping. He gave Remus an approving nod. Well done, he mouthed.

Remus turned away, feigning indifference, but the praise made him feel taller.

After the Defence practical, the Marauders had the rest of the afternoon off, except for Peter,
whose Divination exam was scheduled for that evening. Remus waited for the others in the
Entrance Hall, ready to roam the grounds, but only Sirius joined him.

“Where’s James?” asked Remus.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “With Lily. Says they’ve got” — he made air quotes with his fingers —
“‘Head business’ to attend to.”

Remus refrained from making the obvious joke. “I bet they have,” he said, struggling to keep
a straight face. “I think Peter went back to the common room, too. He wanted to practise his
crystal ball readings on the first years.”

“Looks like it’s just you and me then,” said Sirius, and he slipped his long-fingered hand into
Remus’. “Shall we be off?”

Remus felt suddenly off-balance, as though he’d had a couple of drinks. Sirius led him
outside, where they were greeted by balmy spring air.

“Where are we going?” asked Remus.

“The Black Lake,” said Sirius, whose other hand was holding a basket of fresh bread that
hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Thought Bathsheba might like a treat.”

When they reached the edge of the lake, Remus sat on the roots of a large beech tree and
watched Sirius toss chunks of bread to the giant squid. It was the first time the two of them
had been alone since the masquerade, yet he found that there was nothing he needed to get
off his chest. Sirius’ plan at Walpurgis Abbey had been a disaster, it was true, but they were
no worse off for it.

Maybe I need to have a little more faith in the boy I love, thought Remus. And in my friends,
too. For now, he was content to admire the long lines of Sirius’ body and the way the setting
sun sparkled across the lake.

When the basket was empty, Sirius joined Remus at the base of the beech tree. “Are you still
angry with me?” he asked, leaning against the wide, smooth trunk.

Remus looked up, startled. “I’m not angry with you. What gives you that idea?”

“You’re being awfully quiet.”

“That’s because I’m at peace. For once in my sorry life.”

Sirius squatted next to Remus and trailed a finger in the dirt, absentmindedly drawing a rune.
“So you’re no longer cross about — about when I went after my family’s gold.”

“I was never cross with you about that.”

The lie was smooth, his delivery perfect, but Sirius barked a laugh. “You could barely look at
me for weeks. You didn’t even want to touch me — and you love touching me.”

Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand, more to shut him up than anything. “Alright,” he admitted. “I
was furious. I thought you were risking our lives.”

“That’s a fair assessment. But it was all a risk, wasn’t it?”

“It was. And we all got out alive — which wouldn’t have happened if we’d gone to the war
room as planned. Not if Lord Voldemort was inside.”

Sirius used Remus’ hand to finish tracing the rune. “So you’re saying I saved our lives.”

“I’m saying things worked out, so it’s water under the bridge. But make no mistake — if any
of us had died, or even been injured, I would be singing a different tune.” He looked at the
symbol they had scratched into the dirt. It looked a bit like a wavy letter ‘E’. “Perthro. The
gambler’s rune.”

“Fits, doesn’t it? It means good fortune.”

“No, it doesn’t. It represents the intersection of free will and fate. Destiny.”

“Same thing,” said Sirius, but Remus knew he was being facetious, so he didn’t argue.
“Speaking of good fortune,” he said after a moment, “what are you going to do with your
family’s gold?”

“Well,” said Sirius, “the Gringotts goblins would know immediately that it’s stolen treasure,
so putting it in the bank is out of the question. I figure I’ll just donate it.”

“To St Mungo’s?”

“Nah. To the Order. Then they’ll have to let me join, won’t they?”

Remus’ heart juddered against his rib cage. “You’re joining the Order?”

“Of course I am. Can’t let you and Lily fight this war alone.”

Remus stood, balling his hands into fists, and strode to the shore of the lake. The murky
water reflected his glare, and he scowled at his reflection.

In truth, he hadn’t given much thought to what Sirius might do after Hogwarts. He’d assumed
that Sirius and James would spend time dicking around London, since neither needed to
work, and had left it at that. If pressed, he might have imagined that Sirius would adopt home
improvement as a hobby, turning Alphard’s flat into the ultimate bachelor pad, or else spend
his days playing Quidditch or perusing the shops in Diagon Alley.

But Sirius wanted to join the Order. He was going to put his life on the line. He could die.

And there was no cause that was worth a world without Sirius Black.

Remus’ fists were clenched so tightly that his nails cut crescent-moon marks into his palms.
He shook out his hands and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. What did it say
about him, that he was so reluctant to fight for the Order, when Sirius would go to war for
him without a second thought?

Strong arms wrapped around his chest. Sirius hugged him from behind, nestling his head on
Remus’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, Moony. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Remus’ voice was hoarse. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

“Who said anything about dying?” Sirius kissed him on the cheek. “If it makes you feel
better, there’s other reasons I’m joining, too. I need to finish the work Uncle Alphard started,
for one.”

“I just can’t — can’t wrap my mind around why you’d willingly sign up. It’s going to be
dangerous, Pads. And you could do anything else. You’ve got enough money, you could fuck
off to France and come back in a decade when all this is over — it’d be safer —”

“Sure, but you know me.” Sirius’ breath was hot in Remus’ ear. “I like a bit of danger. It’s
why I fell in love with a werewolf, after all.”

Remus laughed despite himself. “Yeah, that’s how most people think of me. Dangerous
Remus Lupin.”
He turned his head, and Sirius’ lips met his. His insides flared with heat, though the evening
was cool. He could hardly believe he was allowed to kiss his best friend like this. The feel of
Sirius’ mouth, the way his hands roamed over Remus’ body — it was exhilarating, better
than any Pepper-up Potion. Remus had never felt more alive; every nerve in his body was on
fire, exquisitely sensitive.

“Let’s go to the Shack,” whispered Sirius.

Remus didn’t think he would make it that far. “We can stay here — by the tree is alright,
nobody will see —”

“Remus Lupin?”

They sprang apart.

“I thought that was you,” said Professor Prewett, stepping out from behind the tree. “Good
evening, Black,” he added.

“Er — hello, Professor,” said Remus. His head spun, still catching up to the fact that Sirius
was no longer in his arms. “We were just —”

“Taking a stroll by the lake? A fine time of year to do so,” said Professor Prewett smoothly.
“I was wondering, Lupin, if I could have a word.”

“I’ll come, too,” said Sirius with barely-disguised animosity. He shot Remus a sharp glance;
Remus had told him about Professor Prewett’s role in recruiting him to the Order.

“No, Pads — there’s no need,” said Remus. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what the
Defence professor wanted to talk about, and the conversation wouldn’t be long. “I’ll meet
you back in the common room.”

Sirius hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but at the look on Remus’ face, he relented.
“Alright. I should find James, anyway. The match against Ravenclaw’s this Saturday, he
wanted to fit in a bit of training before curfew…”

As Sirius climbed the slope towards the castle, Professor Prewett began to walk along the
length of the shore. Reluctantly, Remus followed.

“Excellent work on your Patronus, by the way,” said Professor Prewett. “Fully corporeal, and
with little notice. Not many wizards could do better.”

Remus resented the obvious attempt to soften him up. “I had a good teacher,” he said shortly.

“You flatter me, Lupin,” said Professor Prewett with a thin smile. “You did all the hard work.
I simply gave you a nudge in the right direction.”

Remus remained silent as they rounded the eastern shore of the lake. The Defence professor
hadn’t sought him out solely to compliment his Patronus; the less Remus said, the quicker
they’d get to the meat of the conversation.
“I’ve heard from my brother, Gideon,” said Professor Prewett at last. “He says the Order just
got word that Walpurgis Abbey has been destroyed. Collapsed from the inside, it seems.”

Remus hummed, as if this news was only mildly interesting.

“You visited the abbey recently, didn’t you?” said Professor Prewett. “I was wondering if you
knew anything about the abbey’s destruction.”

“Haven’t got a clue, I’m afraid.”

The Defence professor gave him a keen look. “Is that so?”

The night was growing colder, and Remus suddenly resented Professor Prewett for taking
him away from Sirius, who was warm. “Respectfully, Professor, you can stop pretending to
care about me. It’s alright.”

Professor Prewett frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean, Lupin.”

“The headmaster spoke to me. About joining the Order. He said you were keeping him posted
about… about what I’ve been up to.”

The Defence professor let out a long sigh. “I cannot deny it, Lupin. Dumbledore mentioned
you to me over the summer, before the fall term began. He said he would appreciate if I kept
an eye on you.”

“I thought so,” said Remus. “He probably thought it would do me good to see a successful
non-human. He knew I’d want to be like you — that it would make me more likely to join the
Order.”

Professor Prewett adjusted his scarf, looking regretful. “I’m sorry, Lupin, if I have made you
feel manipulated.”

“I don’t feel manipulated,” retorted Remus. “You manipulated me. I thought you took an
interest in me because I was a talented student — that our similarities were incidental. But
you only cared because I’m a werewolf and Dumbledore needs me on his side.”

Professor Prewett shook his head. “I know my words mean little to you right now, but I
promise you, Lupin. Teaching you the Patronus Charm was one of the highlights of the year
for me. I would have been glad to mentor you even if you hadn’t been a werewolf.”

Oh, fuck off, Remus wanted to say. He kept his expression neutral, but Professor Prewett must
have sensed what he was thinking, because his mouth twisted wryly.

“I don’t blame you for being angry with me — I would feel the same, in your shoes. But
there is a reason Dumbledore asked me to look out for you. He needs you more than you
know.”

“He could have just asked me to join the Order,” burst Remus. “He didn’t have to — to pull
all these strings to get me to join. I would have said yes if he’d only asked. I’d rather do
anything else with my life, of course, but I would have said yes.”
Professor Prewett looked thoughtful. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said. “Dumbledore takes
risks, sometimes, when he can afford them. In this instance, I don’t think he could afford for
you to say no.”

“Fantastic,” said Remus sarcastically. “He needed me so much he was willing to burn all my
trust in him — and my trust in you — to get me. Don’t I feel special, now.”

“I agree that you deserve better, Lupin. But some things are bigger than our feelings. Bigger
than life itself, even.”

This little speech was patronising, frustrating, and, unfortunately, completely correct.
Professor Prewett was right, and Remus knew it. Losing to Voldemort was not an option; the
Order needed to win at all costs. If Remus’ hurt feelings brought the Order closer to victory,
then he needed to throw his whinging atop the pyre of war and let it burn.

“Still,” he said, because he was not yet willing to concede defeat. “I would have liked the
opportunity to join of my own free will. I don’t appreciate being coerced into it — or being
told it’s a fee I must pay for attending Hogwarts. Everyone else gets to go for free, you
know.”

Professor Prewett winced. “As head of the Order, Dumbledore has a difficult job. He must
make the calls that others can’t, or won’t. He acts for the greater good — to end the war.
Unfortunately, that means many of us are casualties along the way.”

Remus pondered that as they finished their lap around the lake. Dumbledore had sent
Professor Prewett to Albania, where he had been turned into a vampire. Alphard Black, and
likely many others, had died on his orders. In light of that, what he’d done to Remus —
giving him seven years of happiness at Hogwarts, and asking only for his service in return —
was nothing at all.

When they reached the castle, Professor Prewett returned to his office on the second floor to
finish packing his things. Remus went to the Owlery, where he scrawled a single sentence on
a piece of parchment, then affixed it to the leg of one of the school owls.

Professor Dumbledore,

I am at your service.

-R.J.L.

He returned to his dormitory, exhausted from stewing in his anger and ready for sleep to wash
his emotions away. As he got into bed, his hand brushed something smooth; there was a letter
beneath his pillow, written in elegant, looping handwriting.

Dumbledore hadn’t even waited an hour to send him the details of his first assignment for the
Order.
All thoughts of sleep fled Remus’ mind. He pulled a set of robes over his pyjamas and
headed for the seventh floor, not caring that it was past curfew. He needed somewhere to
scream, and the Room of Requirement was soundproof.

When he reached the corridor, he stared incredulously. Sirius was leaning against the wall,
arms folded and head bowed, as if napping while standing up.

He lifted his head as Remus approached. “Moony. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“How did you know?” said Remus, surprise overtaking his anger for a moment. “The
Marauder’s Map, I suppose?”

“Nah, James has got the Map. I was in bed when Fawkes swooped in and dropped a letter on
your pillow. Knew it wasn’t going to be anything good, so… I came here, in case you wanted
company.”

“You’re right that it wasn’t good,” said Remus bitterly. “He’s sending me to Wales after
Hogwarts, and I literally can’t tell you why. There was a jinx on the parchment that keeps me
from speaking about it.”

“Fucking Dumbledore,” said Sirius. “A jinx on the parchment… fuck him. He doesn’t trust
you at all, does he?”

“Yeah, well. Werewolves can’t be trusted to make their own decisions, apparently.”

“I trust you,” said Sirius. “I’ll always trust you, even if old Albus doesn’t. And it doesn’t
matter that you can’t tell me about your assignment, because I can guess. He probably wants
you to recruit a pack of werewolves to our side. Am I right?”

Remus opened his mouth, but he was incapable of telling Sirius ‘yes’ or ‘no’; his mouth
refused to form the words. “P—perhaps,” he stuttered after a moment, then swore. “Merlin’s
tits. I haven’t been in the Order for an hour, and I already regret —”

Sirius darted forward, putting his hands on either side of Remus’ face and drawing him in for
a kiss. “I love you,” he murmured. “I’ll go to Wales with you. We’ll convert the werewolves
together.”

Remus buried his face in the hollow of Sirius’ collarbone and laughed. “You make us sound
like missionaries. And I doubt Dumbledore will approve of you going to Wales, as well.”

Even Sirius couldn’t deny that. “It’ll kill me to be apart from you.”

“Yeah,” said Remus quietly into Sirius’ neck. “We haven’t been apart for seven years.” A
more disturbing thought struck him, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe: he hadn’t
transformed alone for three years, either. There would be nobody in Wales who would keep
the wolf in check, no safe space where he could shelter until the full moon waned. He would
be at the wolf’s mercy.

“You’ll come back to me, though.” Sirius held Remus tighter. “Won’t you?”
Remus forced himself to relax, and he focused on the sound of Sirius’ heartbeat, unhurried
and steady. Each low, paired beat seemed to speak to him. I’m here. You’re mine. We’ll fight.
We’ll live.

“Yeah,” whispered Remus. “I’ll come back. I swear I will.”

“I know,” said Sirius. “I believe you.”

When they entered the Room of Requirement, Remus expected to find padded walls so he
could scream to his heart’s content, and perhaps an effigy of the headmaster to burn. To his
surprise, the floor was strewn with fat, velvety rose petals and flickering candles, and a four-
poster bed awaited them, covered in downy blankets.

“Huh,” he said, running a hand over the plush bedding. “Not what I expected, to be honest.”

Sirius flung himself onto the bed, grinning. “They say the Room of Requirement knows
exactly what we need, even when we don’t know, ourselves.”

“I love this room,” said Remus, rolling atop the bed. “And you, of course.”

He reached for Sirius’ hand. Their time together was running out; soon they would leave
Hogwarts, no longer students but soldiers in a war. But for now, this was enough.

Sirius squeezed his hand. “Shall we finish what we started by the lake, before Professor
Prewett so rudely interrupted us?”

Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’ mouth. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Lily was having difficulty caring about her performance on her N.E.W.T.s. As much as she
tried to focus on studying, her mind was determined to stay three steps ahead, already
envisioning life after Hogwarts. Life in the Order.

In a way, she felt as though her duties for the Order had already begun with the infiltration of
Walpurgis Abbey. These last weeks at Hogwarts seemed awkwardly sandwiched in, as
though she were merely pretending to be a student while her real life waited beyond the
castle walls.

“One day at a time,” James told her when she expressed these thoughts to him. “The Order
won’t take us if we don’t pass our N.E.W.T.s.”

It was solid advice, even if she lacked his ability to live in the present. So when her mind
wandered to imagined battles against Death Eaters — which happened more and more often,
lately — she did her best to refocus on the textbooks in front of her.
During her Potions practical on Friday, she caught a glimpse of Severus, who was struggling
to heat his Everlasting Elixir evenly. He had a new wand that didn’t seem to be working for
him — the smallest flick of his wrist made his potion boil over, instead of simmering gently.

He added a spoonful of leech juice to the cauldron, presumably to lower the boiling point. He
shook his oversized sleeve back as he dropped a sprig of hemlock into the mixture, and she
caught a flash of the brand on his forearm. The blisters had healed, and the outline of the
Dark Mark was the pale pink of new skin.

She expected outrage to bubble inside her, boiling as furiously as Severus’ potion, but she felt
weary with resignation. It was as if she was looking at someone who had passed away long
ago, leaving only his ghost. This Severus was not the boy she’d once called her best friend.
He’d chosen his path, and she had done the same.

At breakfast on Saturday, a large screech owl landed on the table in front of Lily, carrying an
envelope from the Ministry in its beak. Before she could so much as touch the letter, four
more owls joined the first, gripping a heavy, Quaffle-sized leather sack between them that
jangled as it hit the table.

“What’s this about, Lils?” asked Marlene, swallowing a mouthful of toast. “Something to do
with your fine?”

“Can’t be,” she said. “I paid it off earlier this week.”

James reached for the screech owl. It backed away huffily, but he snatched the letter from its
beak as though plucking a Snitch from the air. “This says it’s from the Improper Use of
Magic Office. You’re certain you paid your fine?”

“Oh, my God,” said Lily. “Those thousand Galleons better not have gotten lost on the way to
London…”

James handed her the envelope, and she slit it open with her wand.

Dear Miss Evans,

I am writing to inform you that the Improper Use of Magic Office received the payment of
your fine at half-past ten on Monday, the first of May. However, the sum received totalled one
thousand Galleons, precisely nine hundred and ninety Galleons more than the amount
originally requested.

Upon review of the office’s records, it appears there was a misprint in the statement sent to
you on the twenty-seventh of July of the previous year. The amount requested by the
Wizengamot was ten Galleons. They believed this sum to be reasonable, considering your
good standing at Hogwarts and your status as a Muggle-born student of limited means.

Unfortunately, two additional zeroes were erroneously added to the statement, bringing the
amount requested to one thousand Galleons, instead of the ten intended. An inquiry into the
matter has been launched, but the source of the error remains unknown.

In the meantime, I am returning the additional nine hundred and ninety Galleons to you, as
the terms of your hearing before the Wizengamot have been fulfilled.

The Ministry of Magic apologises for the error and bids you good day.

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Marlene scanned the letter over Lily’s shoulder. “So the whole thousand-Galleon-fine thing
was a mistake? That’s great!”

“No, it’s not,” said James. He shooed the owls away and placed a hand on Lily’s back. “Are
you alright?”

Lily stood. Her vision blurred with tears, turning the bag of gold on the table into a formless
blob. “I’m fine,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound like hers. She cradled the bulky bag in
both arms and ran out of the Great Hall.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as her feet carried her to the Heads’ dormitory. She
couldn’t believe it. She’d spent a year with the fine hanging over her head like a guillotine,
only to be told that it didn’t matter at all. That the amount had been a mistake.

How was that even possible? How had nobody at the Ministry cared enough to double-check
that the fine they imposed on her was accurate?

It’s because I’m Muggle-born, she thought as she climbed through the portrait hole, wiping
her nose with the back of her hand. It’s because I matter less.

She burst into the Head’s dormitory and was about to toss the leather sack carelessly on the
sofa when she realised she wasn’t alone. Albus Dumbledore stood by the merrily-flickering
hearth, hands clasped behind his back.

“Ah, Miss Evans,” he said, turning towards her. “I was hoping to speak —”

She must have looked absolutely ghastly, because he faltered at the sight of her face. “My
sincerest apologies,” he said. “I have surprised you during a moment of distress. I will take
my leave, and ask only that you visit my office when you are feeling better.”

He swept past her and was nearly out the door before she found her voice. “That’s — that’s
alright, Professor. We can talk now.”
Concerned eyes gazed at her from behind his half-moon spectacles. “Are you certain, Miss
Evans?”

“I am.” She took a shaky breath to steady herself and smiled in what she hoped was a stable,
encouraging way. “Would you like to sit down, sir?”

“If you insist,” said Professor Dumbledore, and he took one of the chairs by the hearth —
not, she noticed, the yellow armchair that James loved, but one of the lesser-used ones.

Lily settled across from him on the sofa, keeping the heavy bag of Galleons in her lap. “To
what do I owe the pleasure, sir?” She tried to sound composed through her congested, leaky
nose.

“I shall be brief,” said Dumbledore, “as I see you have been through an ordeal already, and it
is not yet nine o’clock. Professor McGonagall has told me that you expressed interest in
joining the Order of the Phoenix. I was wondering if that was still the case.”

Of course. “It is, sir. I would be happy to join.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Professor Dumbledore. “Your talent with Healing — indeed, your
sheer magical ability — will be a tremendous asset to us. Would you find an assignment in
London agreeable? That is where the Order is headquartered, and I think you would do best
in the thick of things.”

London. Her heart leapt. London was big enough to hold Muggles and wizards alike — big
enough to have room for her, too. It wasn’t the job at St Mungo’s that she’d dreamed of, but
she’d still be in the city. “I’d love that, Professor. But…” She hesitated. James wanted to join
the Order, too. Would Dumbledore allow them to be stationed together if she requested it?
How much could she ask of the headmaster? “Sir, James — ”

“James Potter and Sirius Black will be in London as well, provided they accept my offer,”
said Dumbledore. He smiled at her obvious relief. “There is one practical matter we must also
discuss. The Order cannot afford to pay its members — all assistance is strictly voluntary.
Most people in the Order have jobs to cover their expenses, so I suggest you seek
employment in Diagon Alley if you find yourself in a similar situation.”

“Thanks,” said Lily as the weight of nine hundred and ninety Galleons pressed into her lap,
“but I think I’ll be good for a while. I can work full-time as an Order member if you want.”

“I appreciate that more than you know, Miss Evans.” Dumbledore rose from the chair. “Now,
I believe I have taken up enough of your time this morning. With your agreement, I shall take
my leave.”

“Wait, Professor,” said Lily, and Dumbledore paused. “Sir, I — I think there are Death Eaters
at Hogwarts. Real Death Eaters, not just students who idolise Lord Voldemort. They’ve even
had the Dark Mark branded on their arms.”

The Headmaster’s genteel expression did not waver. “I am aware, Miss Evans.”
Lily stared at him. “You… already knew?”

Professor Dumbledore nodded gravely. “I am afraid that Death Eaters have attended
Hogwarts for thirty years — since Lord Voldemort himself roamed this castle, though that
was not his name, then.”

Thirty years of Death Eaters. Lily couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “But… why? Why do
you let them stay?”

“It is safer to keep them here than to expel them,” explained Dumbledore. “Inside the castle,
there are measures that keep them in check, and their ambitions remain… Hogwarts-sized, let
us say. Expelling them would be tantamount to giving them free rein to terrorise the country,
indulging their worst impulses. I do so only as a last resort.” As she chewed on this, he
inclined his head towards her. “I look forward to working with you, Miss Evans.”

The door closed gently behind him.

Some time later, when she had fully recovered from the morning’s events and was forcing
herself to look over an appendix of Ancient Runes, James entered the dormitory.

He went straight to her, kneeling on the floor beside the sofa and looking up at her with
worried hazel eyes. “How are you?”

“Alright,” she said. “Better than I was this morning, at least.”

“Good,” said James, and he joined her on the sofa, putting an arm around her. “That letter
came as a nasty shock, didn’t it?”

She nodded, leaning into him. “I still can’t believe they accidentally fined me a thousand
Galleons instead of fucking ten. Their mistake took years off my life, I swear. I think I’ve
even got grey hairs now, look…”

James combed through her hair. “Yeah, I see a few. Good thing Sleekeazy’s got an anti-
ageing line, I’ll have my dad send you samples…”

She snorted, and he squeezed her tightly, kissing her temple. “Dumbledore was here, by the
way,” she said. “He invited me to join the Order. Officially.”

“Me too,” said James, and she stared at him. “He found me and Sirius on the Quidditch pitch.
I know we’ve talked about it for ages, but — it’s strange that it’s really happening, isn’t it?”

“I know,” said Lily softly. She rested her head against his shoulder and stared into the fire,
which burned brightly, though she’d fed it no wood. “Everything is going to change.”

“Not the most important things,” said James. “We have each other, and that’s what matters.
As long as we’re together, everything else will fall into place.”

She’d never felt so safe in his arms. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It will.”
 Across the Black Lake

James' feet slammed into the grassy pitch as Madam Hooch's whistle blew, signalling the end
of the match. Sirius landed beside him, leapt off his broom, and grabbed him in a bear hug,
whooping.

"We did it! We won!"

The crowd roared as the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team landed and threw their arms
around one another. Peregrine Flint hoisted Parvana Patil onto his shoulders, and she shook
the glittering golden ball in her fist at the stands, to thunderous applause.

Marlene McKinnon and Susan Li led the Gryffindors in a victory chant. "We won the Cup!
We won the Cup!"

"This puts us fifty points ahead of Hufflepuff for the House Cup, too," added Sirius to James.
"Just think, both Cups could really be ours… if our luck holds…"

"If we stay out of trouble for the next few days, you mean?" said James.

Sirius grinned wolfishly. "Exactly."

Madam Hooch elbowed through the raucous cluster of Quidditch players and presented
James with a shining silver trophy. "The Quidditch Cup — for the third year running, mind
you. Congratulations, Potter."

James lifted the Cup in the air and waved it at the Gryffindor stands, where Professor
McGonagall was on her feet, applauding and looking fiercely proud. "This is for you,
Professor!"

She raised both hands in triumph, acknowledging his call; when she lowered them, he
thought she might be wiping her eyes.

Back at the Gryffindor common room, it seemed like half the school had piled inside to
celebrate. Sirius was plying students of all ages with obviously homemade drinks, which he
swore were no stronger than Butterbeer; meanwhile, Marlene had enlisted several first years
to help set up a duelling ring in the centre of the room. A Muggle pop song with a pulsing
beat emanated from the record player in the corner, which Remus and Lily were fiddling
with.

Only Peter seemed out of place; he was standing by the hearth, clutching one of Sirius' drinks
and looking around nervously.

"Alright, Pete?" asked James.

Peter gave a little shrug. "Not bad, I guess."

"Where's Mary? Don't you two usually have a little snog after we win the Quidditch Cup?"

Peter gestured miserably towards the portrait hole, where Mary was embracing a skinny
blond boy with such eagerness it was hard to tell whose limbs were whose. "She got a
boyfriend this year, apparently. Reginald Cattermole, in Hufflepuff."

"Ah." James placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Bad luck, Wormtail. Want to try your hand at
duelling? That'll clear your mind…"

"No, thanks." Peter spoke the reply into his mug, as if the bright purple drink might be better
company than James was.

"You're sure you're alright, Pete? You can tell me if something's on your mind."

"No, I — I don't want to be a bother."

That was what Peter usually said right before saying something that was absolutely a bother,
such as obsessing about the Jinx for the millionth time. But James said, "It's no trouble at all.
I promise. What's going on?"

Peter took a sip of his lilac drink, perhaps for courage. "Well, I — er. I've been waiting for
Dumbledore to ask me to join the Order, since he's talked to everyone else about it. But he
hasn't — he hasn't spoken to me. So when I saw him walking back to the castle after the
match today, I pulled him aside and, er. Asked if I could join. But he — he didn't seem too
happy about it, to tell you the truth."

James blinked, not sure which he was more surprised by: that Peter wanted to join the Order,
or that Dumbledore didn't welcome him with open arms. "What do you mean Dumbledore
wasn't happy?"

"Exactly that." Peter flushed. "He tried to talk me out of it. Said I don't need to join just
because everyone else is, and that I should think about what I truly want to do."

"Yeah? And how'd you respond?"

"I got a bit upset, I guess," admitted Peter. "I told him that being in the Order is what I truly
wanna do, and that I wasn't gonna change my mind. So he relented a bit. He said that he
wouldn't refuse my help if it's what I really want — and that we could talk about it more this
summer."

"That's good," said James. "Just… blimey, Pete. I'm a bit surprised, too, to be honest. I didn't
think you had any interest in the Order."

"Well, what else am I going to do?" said Peter. "Everyone else is joining. It would be weird if
I got a desk job at the Ministry while you lot are out risking your lives."

"That wouldn't be weird at all! We want you to be safe, and I know you're not always
comfortable with the kinds of risks we take. You've always wanted to work in the House-Elf
Relocation Office, like your mum does — a job like that would be perfect for you."
Peter shook his head. "Sirius would judge me if I didn't join the Order."

"Sirius judges everybody, you know it isn't personal. Besides, he'd still be your friend. All of
us would be."

Peter's lip quivered. "That's just it. Dumbledore thinks I'm just trying to — to tag along, but is
that really such a bad thing? You and Sirius and Remus are my best friends. If all of you are
joining the Order, then why shouldn't I join, too? It's not like I've got any better ideas about
what to do with my life."

If Dumbledore couldn't change Peter's mind, there was no way James would be able to. Still,
he had to be sure Peter knew what he was getting into. "Working for the Order will be
dangerous. Remember how you worried about what the Jinx meant? About when our bad
fortune would come? That's child's play compared to what we're up against."

"I know," said Peter. He glanced around and lowered his voice, as though confessing to a
heinous crime. "I still think about the Jinx, even though I shouldn't. I don't know if it's come
to pass yet. I hope it did, when Sirius' uncle died, or maybe at the masquerade. But the Jinx
might have been predicting our future in the Order, or maybe something that happens after
the Order. It just — it drives me mad that there's no way to know for certain."

"Exactly," said James. "Nothing is certain in war. Being in the Order is going to change us,
and it might not be for the better. To be honest, Pete — and I'm not trying to scare you, I just
want to be honest — some of us will probably die. Even if we survive, we won't be the same.
Can you live with that?"

Peter chewed on his lip. "I don't know," he said at last. "But I want to try."

"That's good enough for me," said James, clapping Peter on the back. "Good enough for
Dumbledore, too, by the sound of it."

"Yeah," said Peter, and he gave James a small, watery-eyed smile. "I guess you're looking at
the Order's newest member."

"That's the spirit," said James. He whistled over to Sirius. "Oi, Padfoot! Get Peter a drink —
he's joining the Order!"

Hours later, curfew had long since passed, and all but the most daring students from other
Houses had left the party. Scorch marks marred the rug where the duelling ring had been, and
those who were still awake milled about in small groups, or lounged in the squashy armchairs
by the fire.

James was on the sofa, watching the silver Quidditch Cup wink at him from atop the mantel.
His arms were around Lily, who was snuggled against his chest, breathing deeply. He wasn't
sure how long they'd been like this; long enough for him to have several of Sirius' drinks, and
for her to fall asleep.

Lily stirred, as if she could sense he was thinking about her. She looked up at him, eyelashes
fluttering sleepily, and lifted her chin to whisper into his ear.
"Want to get out of here?"

James glanced around the common room. Remus and Sirius were long gone, and Peter was
curled by the fire, soundly asleep. "Sure," he said, standing up. He made for the staircase to
the dormitories, but she tugged on his sleeve.

"Not to the dormitory. Let's go out." Her emerald eyes dared him to say yes.

He raised an eyebrow. "Feeling like a nighttime stroll, are we? It's almost two in the
morning."

"We're Head Boy and Girl," she said with a grin. "The rules don't apply to us."

They crept out of the portrait hole and down the stairs. "Hang on," said James when they
were on the fifth-floor landing. He pulled the Marauder's Map from his back pocket and
examined it briefly. "Good — Filch is in his office, and all the ghosts are doing something
odd in the Divination classroom. But — oh, shit —"

He grabbed Lily by the arm and dragged her into a nearby corridor, but it was too late.
Yellow eyes gleamed in the dark, and Mrs Norris emerged from the shadows with a loud,
indignant yowl.

"Run!" said Lily, and they darted down the corridor, though Mrs Norris' caterwauls pursued
them as they went.

"There's a secret passage behind the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor," puffed James. "If we
can just make it there, it'll take us to the Astronomy tower —"

A scowling figure rounded the corner ahead of them, cutting them off.

Filch, the caretaker, raised the oil lamp he was holding. His scowl deepened as he registered
their faces. "Potter and Evans," he spat. "Out past curfew, are we? How disappointing — the
Heads themselves, flaunting school rules… the immeasurable shame of it all…"

"I'm sorry, sir," said Lily quickly. "We didn't realise what time it was."

That was much better than the lie James had come up with: he had been about to say that
they'd been trapped inside a mirror for the past six weeks and had only just gotten free. "She's
right," he said. "We were just going back to the common room, so if you'll excuse us…"

"Not so fast." Filch narrowed his eyes. "What's that parchment you're holding, Potter?"

"Er." James' voice cracked. "It's homework?"

Filch's careworn face broke into a triumphant, yellow-toothed smile. "There's no homework
during N.E.W.T.s," he croaked. "Hand it over."

James reluctantly held out the Map. "Our mischief's managed, anyway," he said, and the ink
faded from the Map as Filch snatched it away.
Filch spent at least seven minutes examining the blank parchment and pretending to mutter
spells, which was excruciating to watch. "Don't think I'm fooled," he growled eventually,
stuffing it into his cloak. "You and those scoundrels you call friends are always scheming
behind my back. This parchment's likely cursed… hexed at the very least, mark my words…"
He began to shuffle away, Mrs Norris at his heels. "And twenty points from Gryffindor!
Each!" he added over his shoulder.

Once he had gone, Lily turned to James, biting her lip. "I'm sorry about the Map. Maybe you
can get it back when he's not looking…"

"Nah, it's alright," said James. "We've only got a few days left at Hogwarts, anyway — and
it's not like we'll need it in London. At least if Filch has got it, maybe some other students
will steal it from him, and the Marauders' legacy will live on…"

A corner of her lip twitched. "I think you lot will be remembered for more than your pranks
at school, when all is said and done."

"I hope so," said James. "Imagine peaking at Hogwarts. How sad would that be?"

"Tragic," agreed Lily. She glanced down the corridor where Filch had gone. "I can't believe
he only took twenty points each. He must be fond of us."

"That, or he's getting soft."

"Or both," said Lily. "At least we're still in the lead for the House Cup. Only by ten points
now, though…"

"Best we not do anything to endanger our chances, then," said James with a wink.

"Of course not," said Lily, and she strode down the corridor, ducked behind the statue of
Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, and disappeared from view.

James followed her, leaning against the statue. "And just where do you think you're going?"

She was already a dozen steps up the cramped staircase in the hidden passageway. "I'm still
hoping for a bit of privacy with you."

"But the House Cup —"

"What about it?" She waggled her eyebrows at him. "Last one to the Astronomy tower's a
Doxy egg."

"You're on," said James. He took the stairs two at a time, trying to catch up with her, but she
darted ahead. He ran even faster, using the handrail to propel himself forward, but she was
determined not to let him win. When at last they reached the Astronomy tower, they
collapsed on top of one another, breathless from sprinting up hundreds of stairs and giddy
from laughing all the way.
On the last day of term, the seventh years didn't take the carriages to Hogsmeade with the
other students. Instead, Hagrid guided them down a winding rock tunnel until they reached
the underground harbour where the Black Lake lapped at the castle's foundations. Dozens of
small, wooden boats bobbed against the docks.

Lily's soft hands clutched James' arm. "Are those…?"

He nodded, suddenly lost for words. These were the same vessels they had sailed in to reach
the castle when they were eleven years old, before they'd even been Sorted, or knew what it
was to learn magic. A heavy lump rose in his throat, and he didn't trust himself to speak. Lily
seemed to understand what he was feeling, though; she beamed up at him through watery
eyes.

"Four to a boat," called Hagrid, climbing into the only dinghy large enough to hold his
massive frame. "Yeh know the drill!"

"I'll see you later," whispered Lily, squeezing James' arm, and she went to join her friends.

Sirius, Remus and Peter had already gathered beside one of the boats, and they motioned
James over.

"Who goes first?" asked Peter.

"I will," said James, and he stepped into the boat, which wobbled under his weight. Sirius
went next, taking the seat opposite him — "For balance, we're the biggest, though I'm slightly
larger, of course" — then Peter, then Remus next to Sirius.

Once they were all settled, the boat rocked gently, as though it had been pushed. The fleet
began to move all at once, sailing out of the cave.

"Merlin, this is nostalgic," said James.

"Isn't it?" Sirius trailed his fingers in the water. "Last time I was in one of these, I thought I'd
be Sorted into Slytherin."

"Imagine if you really had been," said James. "Snivellus might have been your best friend…"

Sirius pretended to vomit over the side of the boat.

The little fleet picked up speed, and James caught sight of Lily, who was with Marlene, Mary,
and Parvana. He waved as the girls sailed past, and she blew him a kiss.

The boats fanned out as they reached the centre of the lake, slowing momentarily, and a
warm breeze ruffled James' hair. A faint clapping sound rose from the shoreline: the teachers
of Hogwarts ringed the lake, applauding the seventh years.

"Bye, professors," called Sirius, waving to them. "Oh, look, McGonagall and Pomfrey are
standing together… my two favourites, I'm going to miss them…"
"I don't see Professor Prewett," said James, squinting at the teachers. "Did he leave already,
Moony?"

Remus nodded. "Something urgent came up in Transylvania, apparently. But I don't think
we've seen the last of him… he'll be hanging around Order headquarters, at least."

"Speaking of the Order," said Sirius, "wanna be my flatmate, Prongs? We're both stationed in
London, it makes sense…"

James grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

"What about me?" said Peter. "I'll be in London, too."

"Oh," said Sirius. "Er. Sorry, Pete — Uncle Alphard's flat only has two bedrooms. Unless you
don't mind sleeping on the couch, that is."

Peter worried his lip. "Yeah, alright. I can sleep on the couch."

"Not a chance," said James. "You deserve a proper bed, Pete. We'll help you find a place,
how's that? I can spot you some Galleons, too."

"I — that's really — you don't have to…"

"But I want to. It's no trouble at all."

Peter's cheeks were pink with sunshine and discomfort. "Er. If you really don't mind — that
would be great. Money might be tight for a while, my mum doesn't make a lot, and — this
whole Order thing, I'm not sure I should break it to her yet… might be better to ease her into
it —"

"You're rambling," commented Sirius.

Peter's voice grew very small. "Anyway. Thanks, Prongs."

"Wonder what our first assignment for the Order will be," said Sirius as the professors faded
from view. "If it's staking out the Ministry for twelve hours a day like Dorcas does, I'm going
to quit."

James snorted.

At last, their boats bumped against the opposite shore of the lake. They climbed out, and
Hagrid lead them up a muddy path that snaked between a dense forest of trees. The Hogwarts
Express was waiting for them at the tiny Hogsmeade platform, belching thick grey smoke.

It didn't take long for the Marauders to find the Gryffindor girls, who were sitting in a
compartment near the back of the train.

"Alright, Lily?" said James, taking the seat beside her and pulling her into his lap.
"Glad you lads could join us." Marlene closed the compartment door with a flick of her
wand. "You know what time it is."

"The Year in Review!" said Mary. "Our last one ever, boo…"

"That's right, so let's make it count," said Marlene. "The first question, as always — who here
has had an excellent year?"

James thrust his hand in the air without even thinking about it, and the others were right
behind him. Only Peter remained with his hands in his lap; he blinked, startled that everyone
else had put theirs up so quickly, and raised a pudgy hand belatedly.

"All eight of us, really?" said Marlene. "Excellent, that's an Outstanding! And for the first
time since year three, if memory serves. Next up: did we win the Quidditch cup?"

"How could we ever lose?" said James, and the compartment erupted with cheers. Remus
clapped Sirius on the back, and Mary grabbed Parvana's hand by the wrist and held it high, as
though she'd just won a boxing match.

"The Quidditch Cup stays in McGonagall's office where it belongs," said Marlene smugly.
"What's even better is the House Cup…"

"Ours by ten points!" crowed Sirius, and Mary whooped.

"I still can't believe it," said Parvana. "Gryffindor's first win in decades, somehow we pulled
it off…"

Marlene gave the boys a knowing look. "You lot must have really reined it in this year."

"Nah, we didn't," said James. He tugged gently on Lily's hair, and she giggled. "We just got
better at not being caught."

"That I believe," said Marlene. "On to the final category then, and saving the best for last…"

"Romance!" said Mary excitedly. "We did so well this year — we're all coupled up, aren't
we? I've been with Reginald since April, and we've gotten to third base."

"Ooh, are we kissing and telling?" said Sirius. "Well, Remus and I have been together since
March, and we've gone so far past the bases that I had to invent entirely new ones, such as
—"

"This isn't Quidditch, Black," said Marlene. "I don't need a play-by-play."

Remus was massaging his temples as if he had a bad headache. "Thank you, Marlene."

"Alright, alright," said Sirius, and he ruffled Remus' hair. "I was only joking, anyway, Moony.
What we get up to is between us — I'll leave all the juicy bits to the imagination."

"Are Lily and I the longest relationship, then?" said James. "Since we've been dating since
December?"
Everybody stared at him. Lily elbowed him in the ribs, though he couldn't fathom why.

"December?" said Marlene. "You two got together last summer."

"Oh yeah," said James. "I, er, guess we did. Forgot about that." He let out a strangled laugh.

"Dorcas and I have been together longer than you two have, anyway," said Marlene. "We
started seeing each other in June."

"Ah, you win, then," said James.

Parvana piped up. "Technically, I've been seeing Bilius Weasley in Ravenclaw since we won
the Quidditch Cup last year. That was in May, so…"

Marlene gave Parvana a playful shove. "I don't believe it! You've got all of us beat. Good for
you, Parv." She turned to Peter, who was playing with a loose thread on his robes. "What
about you, Peter? Got anything juicy to add?"

Peter looked alarmed at being the sudden focus of attention. "Oh, I — er. Yeah, alright. There
was this girl in, er, Hufflepuff, and we —" At Sirius and James' quizzical looks, he faltered.
"No, I haven't been with anyone. Sorry, Marlene. Not a lucky year for me, I suppose."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, Peter," said Lily kindly. "The Hogwarts dating pool is
pretty skint, anyway."

"Yeah, your luck will turn around soon," said Sirius. "London's full of fit witches. Muggles,
too, if you're into that sort of thing…"

Marlene shot him a sharp look. "Seven out of eight isn't bad, anyway," she said. "Our total for
the year, then… that's one Exceeds Expectations and three Outstandings! We really did go
out with a bang, didn't we?"

Remus nodded, looking pensive. "Now the rest of our life begins."

When the train pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, they tumbled onto the
platform, shouting goodbyes as they split ways. Some of the other seventh year students were
crying — the Hufflepuffs were having a particularly rough go of it — but there was only
exuberance in James' farewells to his friends. After all, there was nothing to be sad about;
they would all reconvene soon to work for the Order, so it wasn't really goodbye.

Sirius pushed Remus against the platform's brick wall for a last, passionate snog, and Peter
and his mum went to do a bit of shopping in Diagon Alley, leaving James and Lily alone with
one another.

As he looked into her brilliant green eyes, he realised there was one person he wasn't ready to
say goodbye to. "Fancy a bite at the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked. "My parents are here, you
could meet them."

Lily shook her head. "I'd love to, but my mum's picking me up. I'm going back to Cokeworth
for a few days to spend some time with her."
"Another time, then," he said. "My parents will be visiting London plenty, now that Sirius
and I live here. Every weekend, probably. You'll have loads of opportunities to meet them."

"I'm looking forward to it." She smiled. "Maybe you can help me move when I get back to
London — Dorcas and Marlene are letting me stay in the spare room in their flat. I was going
to bring some furniture from home."

"I'd love to." He struck a pose, flexing his arms exaggeratedly. "I'm extremely strong, you
know. Don't even need magic to do it."

Lily's smile grew mischievous. "Is that so? Because they live on the twelfth floor, and there
isn't a lift." She checked her watch and deflated a little. "I should go. Mum's probably waiting
in the car."

James suddenly wanted to demand that she stay — just for a minute longer, or maybe an hour
— but he settled for embracing her, resting his chin on the top of her head. "It's going to be
weird, being apart."

"Yeah." She looked up at him, grinning. "I've gotten used to you being underfoot."

"At least it's only for a few days," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"I know. I'm not the one who needs reassurance, here."

"Who says I need reassurance?" he said.

"James. You look like you're about to cry."

"I do not," he said, and he buried his face in her hair so that she couldn't see him. "I've never
cried in my life. Except when I was thirteen and Puddlemere United won the British Cup.
And when you showed me that Muggle movie about the baby deer."

"Of course," she said with a little laugh. "How could I forget?" She stood on her tiptoes and
pressed a kiss to his mouth. "I love you, James. Say hi to your parents for me."

"I love you, too."

She squeezed his hand one last time. Then she was gone, her dark red hair disappearing into
the barrier that separated Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from the Muggle world.

"Oi, Prongs! Are you coming, or what?"

He turned. Sirius had his arms around Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, who looked like they
might burst with pride.

James grinned and grabbed hold of his trunk, hurrying to join them. Soon — perhaps very
soon — he would go toe-to-toe with Death Eaters, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.
But until then, he needed to have lunch with his parents at the Leaky Cauldron, explore
London with Sirius, and hold Lily tight when she returned. Whatever the future held after
that, whatever plans Dumbledore had for him, he would face head-on, with courage and
strength. He was not afraid.

A/N: Fin.

This fic has been my companion for four years, across two continents (in case you couldn't
tell by the British/American English mishmash, haha), and through a global pandemic. It
feels surreal that it's finally over — I wanted to continue for another chapter, or two, or three,
the way James wanted to hold onto Lily forever — but all good things must come to an end,
and it was time.

If you've enjoyed the story, I would love to hear from you :)

Thank you for reading!

(I miiiight write a sequel.)

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