The Lost Generation (1975-1982)

The Lost Generation

(1975-1982)

Chapter Seven

Knowledge

Sunday, 18 June, 1977

Bill Weasley paced the hard, unforgiving flagstone floor in the anteroom just off the Great Hall, sweating in his best robes, his stomach in knots. I’m going to be expelled, I’m going to be expelled....

“Bill!” He whirled upon hearing his name uttered by that familiar voice; it was his mother, running toward him and throwing her arms around him. He buried his face in her neck, bending over to do so, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to gush forth from his eyes. He tried to master himself and straighten up, but it wasn’t easy.

“I’m--I’m sorry, Mum, Dad,” he said thickly. His father was holding baby Percy, his forehead lined with concern. “I’m a disgrace to the family. Getting expelled....”

“Expelled!” his mother cried. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“We’ve just been to see the headmaster and he said you’re a hero!” his father exclaimed.

Bill stopped and squinted at his father as though he perhaps hadn’t heard the headmaster correctly. Surely he’d said “a heel” or something else bad, not “a hero.” Which, in Bill’s experience, usually meant something good.

“You must have heard him wrong, Dad--”

“Oh, no, I didn’t. I heard him perfectly clearly,” his father said cheerfully. “A hero. He said you threw yourself on your friend Alex when the explosion occurred, and helped him out of Honeyduke’s. Alex told him everything.” Bill swallowed as his father looked proudly at him.

“Mind you, you shouldn’t have been down in the village to begin with,” his mother added, a stern edge to her voice momentarily, “but you’re not expelled. You aren’t the one who blew up the sweet shop.” Now she looked grim. “Of course, you’ll have to wait until you’re a fourth year to go to the village now, which seems perfectly appropriate. If there even are Hogsmeade weekends at that point. Not,” she went on, raising one eyebrow, “that your father or I would have signed the form for you to go during your third year. Not after this. If the headmaster hadn’t ruled that you had to wait, we would have. But that is to be your only punishment.”

“I mean, Bill, why should you and your friends be expelled for venturing into the village without permission just because you had the bad luck to walk into a Death Eater attack?” his father said reasonably.

“If anything, the dear old man seems to blame himself,” his mother said, sounding particularly motherly at that point. “Keeps saying he should have known You-Know-Who would get wind of the Hogsmeade weekend and try to make trouble....”

Bill couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t expelled. He’d been so worried....

His father bounced the baby in his arms some more. Percy was a pale, skinny child, almost a year old, his bright red hair curling over his head, his bright blue eyes snapping. Bill smiled feebly at the baby, who was laughing and clapping his hands.

“I think Perce is trying to cheer up his big brother,” his father grinned, bouncing the baby some more. Bill looked at the small boy. Some example I’m setting for my brothers and sisters, he thought. I’m the oldest. I’m supposed to be responsible.

“Where are the others?” he asked, his throat tight as he let Percy grab his finger and hold it tightly, still gurgling and laughing.

“Charlie’s old enough to stay home with the girls for a little while,” his father said lightly. “And your Aunt Meg is supposed to be looking in on them by Floo.” Bill noticed that his mother was giving a very half-hearted smile; he could tell it made her nervous to be away from them. Charlie would be starting at Hogwarts in September, but Annie was not quite seven and Peggy was months away from turning five. Bill remembered plenty of times when he was only eleven and took care of Charlie, Annie and Peggy on his own--but his mother had only been an Apparition flight or a Floo trip away, not at Hogwarts, where they couldn’t Apparate or use Floo. They would have to return to Hogsmeade before they could Floo home, as they couldn’t Apparate with Percy.

They tried to talk for a little longer, while taking a walk on the grounds. They went down the long allee of oak trees that led to the greenhouses and then walked half-way around the lake and back. The talking usually petered out into extended silences. Before leaving, his mother hugged him again and looked in his face.

“Now, Bill. I know how you are. You seem to enjoy carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Try to think good thoughts. You’re safe and sound and not expelled.”

“And soon you’ll be home with your family for the summer, where we can keep an eye on you,” his father winked. Bill tried to smile, but he wasn’t feeling very cheerful. Orville died because of me. I saw the sixth-years using the secret passage....

At the same time--he had never been so homesick. And seeing the faces of his mates that morning, as they all awoke in the tower room which now had only four beds, had been one of the most excruciating moments of his life. He just knew they were all blaming him. If he hadn’t seen what he’d seen and told them about it, Orville would still be alive. He wished now that he had grassed on the sixth-years, and that he’d told someone in authority about the tunnel, so it could be sealed and never used by anyone again.

He hadn’t done that, though. No one had asked, either. It had been assumed that the second years had simply hidden themselves in the throng of students that had been part of the mass exodus from the castle the previous morning; no one asked about a secret passage, and, to his knowledge, none of the other second years had told any adult about such a passage.

After his parents had gone, Bill returned to the shores of the lake, skipping stones across the surface of the water and trying to focus firmly on that, so that he wouldn’t start crying again.

“Oi, Bill!”

He turned abruptly, poised to throw the stone in his hand. He saw Jack Richards walking down the lawn toward him and lowered his arm. He and Orville and Jack had been best mates at the Hogsmeade village school, but he and Orville had grown apart from Jack since Jack had become a Hufflepuff on the first day of their first term.

“Hello,” Bill said quietly to the other boy. Jack’s grey eyes looked red around the edges and it didn’t appear that he’d combed his light-brown hair recently. He picked up a flat stone on the shore of the lake and threw it, counting under his breath as it scudded across the water.

“’Choo doing?” Jack asked, bending to look for another stone while Bill threw the one he was holding.

“Nothing,” Bill said aimlessly, looking for another stone as Jack stood and threw the one he’d found.

“--four, five, six, seven,” Jack chanted softly, watching his stone. “Not bad. Seven.” Jack turned to him, and Bill also noticed that his nose was red.

“Can’t believe he’s gone,” Jack said suddenly, plunging his hands into his pockets. “I mean--d’you remember how we said before we came to Hogwarts that we’d still be friends, no matter what house we were sorted into? That was obviously a joke,” he said, an edge to his voice as he bent over to look for another stone.

Bill grimaced guiltily. “Sorry, Jack. But don’t blame Orville. I didn’t make an effort to--”

“Oh, I’m not blaming Orville. I’m blaming myself. I could have done something. I’m a bloody Hufflepuff. Supposed to be so damn loyal.” Jack threw another stone across the lake. “But--I could see that Orville wanted to be Alex Wood’s friend now. He’d moved on. You seemed to, too. And it’s not like I don’t have new friends. Who was I to judge the pair of you? That’s how it generally happens here. You get sorted and you’re part of a new family. Your house family.” He sighed. Bill nodded and they both bent down to pick up new stones. Suddenly, Bill looked up at his childhood friend and locked eyes with him.

“Jack.”

“What?”

“We’re--we’re only in second year. We can fix this now. There’s no reason we have to ignore each other for another five years. We never should have let houses make such a difference. From now on, it’s the way it used to be. If you like, I can ask my mum if you can visit for a while this summer. I mean, I’ll have to spend a lot of time taking care of my little sisters, and sometimes my baby brother, too. But--if you’d like--”

Jack was grinning ear to ear. “I love it at your house! It was always great whenever my mum and dad said we--I mean I--could go home with you on the bus and stay the weekend! You’re right--we should do that again! And maybe you’ll let me--”

“--de-gnome the garden?” Bill asked, smiling slyly. “It always needs it, so of course.”

Jack’s grin grew wider. They sat on the shores of the lake for the rest of the afternoon, discussing plans for the summer and occasionally dredging up a funny memory of Orville; it was comforting to be able to laugh and think about him at the same time. They were only thirteen; they weren’t certain how to go about mourning someone who was their age. And it was still hard to believe he was gone; when Jack was talking about things they used to do and said “we,” Bill knew that he meant all three of them, Bill and Jack and Orville, when they used to both stay at his house. It would be a little strange for it just to be Jack coming to visit, but Bill thought it would be better than nothing.

“It’ll be just like old times,” Bill lied, knowing that it could never be like that again, without Orville joining them. They could, however, acknowledge his absence by remembering him. We’ll never forget you, mate, he thought at Orville, wherever he was.

The boys threw stones in the lake and talked, making plans and remembering their friend....

* * * * *

Saturday, 5 August, 1977

“For he’s a jolly good feh-eh-low! And so say all of us!”

Sirius, Peter and Remus were all grinning and patting James on the back. He sat at the head of the long kitchen table at Ascog Castle, where Sirius’ family had lived since reclaiming their clan’s castle ruins. After it was rebuilt, they had charmed it, like Hogwarts, to appear to be ruins still, so that Muggles were oblivious to the fact that a family of eight were living in a rebuilt tower house at the edge of Loch Ascog. James looked round at the Black family, who had taken him in without question after his parents had been killed. Sirius’ mother was still quite youthful looking, not a bit of grey amidst the shining black hair swept up into a bun at the back of her head, her eyes twinkling at James. Sirius’ father was much older than his mother, but even he didn’t appear to be very old for sixty; James could imagine Sirius much older, with some wrinkles and white hair, when he saw Mr. Black.

Sirius’ oldest sister, Cassiopeia, was regal and forbidding, and her husband was standoffish, but James had found that the other sister, Ursula, was as sprightly and friendly as Cass was stiff and curt, and he got on well with her husband Alan, too.

“Thanks,” James said, his throat feeling tight suddenly as he regarded the people gathered round the long refectory table. “Thanks awfully. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble...”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, James. It’s not every day you turn seventeen!” Callisto Black beamed at him. James grinned back at Sirius’ mother.

“This cake looks fantastic...”

“Ursula made it. Your favorite: chocolate with raspberry fill between the layers and chocolate frosting on the outside.”

James’ mouth was watering just from the description. “Well, what are we waiting for?” Sirius demanded, laughing. “Get this man a knife so he can cut his cake!”

They cut it up and passed it round, and then there were presents. Sirius handed him a package which turned out to be an assortment of his favorite sweets; Sirius always got him the same thing, purchased from the sweetshop in Diagon Alley this time, instead of from Honeyduke’s. However, James hadn’t eaten any sweets since the day of the Honeyduke’s attack and he looked down at the selection of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbies, Sugar Quills and other sweets he normally enjoyed a great deal, trying to think about something other than spewing. He swallowed and thought yet again of Bonnie, and of his tremendous guilt, and wondered whether he’d ever eat another sweet.

James raised his eyes to Sirius’, who didn’t seem to realize anything was wrong. Stupid wonderful git. He means well, but...

“Thanks, mate. Everybody, have some,” he said, starting to pass it around the table, hoping that if the others ate enough, perhaps Sirius wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t partaking.

He would never forget the leaving feast from his sixth year, the tribute that Dumbledore had had the students pay to the victims of the Honeyduke’s attack. Every student and teacher in the school had stood and raised their goblets to Bonita Manetti, Orville Simpson and a fourth year Ravenclaw girl named Philippa Tanner. Two adults had also died in the attack.

As the names rumbled through the hall, James had had to put his goblet down and place his hands on the table for support, unable to keep the dizziness from overwhelming him. On either side of him, Lily and Sirius had put their arms around him, and he’d felt the sympathy emanating from them, the support. He looked up to find the eyes of Severus Snape boring into his from across the hall; Snape being very tall meant it was easy enough to see his hostile expression. James swallowed, wondering what there really was between Snape and Lily (he assumed Lily was the reason for the glare). He surreptitiously glanced around Sirius at Remus, who nodded and smiled sympathetically, obviously bearing him no ill will for Lily comforting him, in stark contrast to Snape. He sighed and looked down at Lily, who smiled feebly and put her head on his shoulder, her arm laced through his. He tried not to think about how right it felt to stand with her, arm in arm, just as he tried frequently not to think about how wonderful it had felt to curl up with her on the night of the attack, holding her as they both drifted off to sleep, hearing her regular, steady breathing in the night when he awoke repeatedly with horrid dreams. He felt acutely what an awful person he was; they were standing to give tribute to Bonnie, among others, and here he was wishing Lily was his girlfriend....

He shook himself, looking round at the people in the kitchen, trying not to be disappointed that Lily hadn’t been able to come to his party. It would have meant her leaving her mother in the midst of more radiation treatments. James had tried to convince her before he’d learned about that; he’d written to her and proposed that she just go from her London home to the Leaky Cauldron and take the Floo network to Ascog Castle. (She couldn’t have taken the Knight Bus because the castle was on the Isle of Bute and the Knight Bus couldn’t cross water.) He had started off congratulating her for being named Head Girl and segued into his invitation to the party. (He had been named Head Boy, for no reason that he could discern except perhaps pity from the other prefects, because his girlfriend had just died.) When she’d written back to explain about her mother, it had been very tempting to write to her again and beg her to reconsider, but he realized that that would have sounded rather odd and desperate, so he didn’t do it. (He had the letter all written, but he crumpled it up and threw it into the fire.)

“This came by owl post from your Great-Aunt Othalie,” Ursula said now, handing him a package still in its brown paper wrapping, with string going all around to secure it. James used the cake knife to cut the string, getting icing on the brown paper. When he’d peeled the paper back, he found a medium-size wooden box with a tooled leather top bearing a coat of arms (a rampant lion, bearing a crown, flanked by a unicorn and a stag). He knew what the Gaelic legend around the image meant.

“My race is royal,” James said softly, tracing the ancient words.

“Here now, don’t be getting a swelled head or anything. It’s not like you’re the only member of Clan MacGregor in the world or anything,” Sirius said, laughing. James smiled up at him; Sirius was standing before his own clan’s coat of arms, with its silver lion on blue.

“I wonder what Aunt Othalie was doing with this,” he said musingly. “She’s a Potter. Well, by marriage, anyway. It’s my mum who was Clan MacGregor. And,” he added, smirking at Sirius now, “need I remind you that her surname was King before she married my dad?”

Sirius threw his head back and laughed while James slowly opened the box. The first thing he found was a letter from his great aunt.

My Dear James,

I hope you have a happy seventeenth birthday. I have been keeping some items safe which I recovered from your parents’ cottage in Godric’s Hollow after their deaths, and now that you are of age I believe you should have them. I enjoyed having you and your friend come visit me during the Christmas holiday. I am a very old woman; calling me your great-great-aunt is more accurate than great aunt, but you can’t be sitting about all day spouting ruddy titles, can you? It was refreshing to have young people about again.

James smiled. He loved his Aunt Othalie. She was ancient (around a hundred-and-forty, he reckoned) but still very spirited. She had led quite a life. She had regaled him and Sirius with late-night stories of how, when she was a Muggle-born witch fresh out of Hogwarts, she had disguised herself as a man and joined the Royal Navy. Then she’d gone to America, helping to smuggle slaves to freedom on the Underground Railroad, all the while using magic to thwart their pursuers. She claimed that she was the one who had caused the cigars wrapped round with Confederate battle plans to fall into Union hands, turning the tide of the war. She also claimed that she was actually Annie Oakley, the sharp-shooter, that Wild Bill Hickock was a wizard who regularly used magic in his Wild West Show, and that she’d been in San Francisco for the 1906 earthquake, which supposedly convinced her to leave North America. She said she went to Hong Kong from there (running an opium den for wizards) before going down to Australia to be an actress with a wizarding theatre troupe in Sydney. (An affair with the married Australian Minister of Magic caused a dreadful scandal.)

James didn’t know whether to believe any of her tall tales (he’d actually caught her in more than one fib, which she’d blamed on a faulty memory), but the stories were all very exciting. If even a fraction of it were true, she’d been in more wars and had more careers and paramours than anyone he’d ever known, finally settling down with his grandfather’s uncle, Jeremy Potter, after the Great War. They’d never had children and he’d never known his great-uncle. (Or great-great-uncle, as he was his great-grandfather’s brother.) Jeremy Potter had died in a pub duel in the early thirties. His killer was still in Azkaban, which Aunt Othalie said was one of the few places in the world where she hadn’t been, and didn’t care to, thank you very much.

I thought you should also have the old family Bible. Recorded in it are all of the births and deaths and marriages in the family going back for hundreds of years. Your parents’ wedding bands are in the small velvet pouch, as well as the engagement ring your father gave your mother, and his father before that, and so on. I never wore it, since Jeremy’s brother had given it to your great-grandmother, but then you know I’m not one for baubles.

I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but I’m an old woman and I’ve tried to give away as much as possible over the years to avoid my possessions being a burden on me. That’s why I gave you my Invisibility Cloak years ago. I did tell you it was a gift from my Jeremy, didn’t I? Fortunately, I haven’t had need of it in years, and haven’t missed it. (The next time you visit, I shall have to tell you of my years spent spying on Rommel, when it was very useful.) I hope you are enjoying it.

Happy birthday, and write to your old auntie soon.

Love,

Othalie

James reached into the box, and withdrew a book that looked far too big to fit into the box without its being magically enlarged. He ran his fingers over the hand-tooled leather of the cover, which, oddly enough, bore a pickaxe on the front, as well as the Masonic symbol. He wanted to look at this in private, later, so he replaced the book in the box and closed the lid again.

“Just some old family things she wanted me to have,” he said feebly. No one questioned him about it. After the party was over and he had said goodbye to Remus and Peter, who returned to their homes using the sitting room fireplace, James took his presents up to the room he and Sirius shared and put the box away carefully in his wardrobe. He went to the large window seat which overlooked the small castle courtyard and gazed up into the heavens, missing Lily so much his chest ached. She had sent a card and a book for a gift, and returned his congratulations for being Head Boy, but that was all. He wasn’t sure what he had expected; she surely thought of him still as a brother. If she thought he would make a physical advance, he was certain she wouldn’t have let him sleep in her bed the night Bonnie died. She obviously thought of their sharing the bed as perfectly innocent, and if she’d had a real brother she probably would have done the same thing. It wasn’t as though she was ignorant of what went on between men and women, he thought, remembering her breaking her leg. She wasn’t a child. She just doesn’t think of me that way....

He remembered Snape glaring at him during the leaving feast. He’d seen her send tender looks in the direction of the tall Slytherin many times; it was obvious that she cared about him. On the other hand, her sympathetic looks toward Remus had waned, replaced by angry, puzzled frowns. Did she know what he was? James wondered. The thought of her being with Snape made him physically ill. He didn’t know whether things had advanced that far, but it was possible.

He turned away from the window, trying to evict that image from his mind. He was seventeen today. He was of-age. Suddenly, he felt an incredible need to get out of the constricting walls of Ascog Castle. He needed to run with four hooves through the night, his best friend by his side....

“Sirius,” James said suddenly, turning to find his best friend wearing his pajamas and climbing into his four-poster. “Don’t let’s go to bed yet. Let’s go out. I feel like running beneath the moon. Look at her up there,” he said, turning to the window again, pointing out the waning moon. “Bright as day. It’s too hot to stay here, on the top floor of the castle. We can sleep tomorrow, in the afternoon, when it’s sweltering. Tonight let’s go out.”

Sirius considered this. “All right. But not just running around wild. I’d like to go into Rothesay.” Rothesay was the largest town on the Isle of Bute, with a busy port.

“Oh, come on. What will people think if they see a stag wandering around the town?”

“Or walking along the quay!” Sirius laughed. “You git; when we’re in town, change back and pretend you’re walking your dog.”

James grimaced; he almost used the “it’s my birthday” card, but resisted the temptation. He didn’t want to rub it in that Sirius wasn’t going to be turning seventeen until late September; James would have almost a whole month of being of-age during the summer holiday, while Sirius would still be punished if he were caught doing magic outside of school. (It was illegal, of course, for them both to be unregistered Animagi.)

Sirius dressed again and they crept down the spiral stairs, which led to the dungeons of the tower house. They froze on the landing outside Sirius’ parents’ bedroom when his father let out a particularly loud snort in his sleep, making James wish he had brought the Invisibility Cloak. Finally, they were in the dungeons, walking through the torch-lit passages leading to the small cottage which functioned as the entrance to the Black home. While the castle appeared to be ruins when Muggles looked at it, the cottage did not, although it was overgrown with vines and some of the windows were smashed in. It looked like a peasant abode that had been abandoned years earlier, but as a precaution, it carried anti-Muggle charms, like the castle, and these charms caused any Muggles who came too near to suddenly remember urgent appointments and go running off. Fortunately, very few Muggles were interested in the ruins of Ascog Castle, even clan Lamont enthusiasts, who were usually more fascinated by Towart Castle and Ascog House, a large manor on the east coast of the island. Sometimes Muggles came to the loch to do some fly-fishing (Sirius and James enjoyed doing this with his dad and Ursula’s husband) but otherwise it was a very quiet place to live.

James and Sirius ascended the rickety stairs that led from the cottage’s cellar to the ground floor, and once they were outside they brushed themselves off, as they were covered with old spider webs and other dirt. Most of the time, they all left the castle to go into the wizarding world by Floo (or Apparition, for the older members of the household) and so the dungeon corridors weren’t in regular use and had filled with large cobwebs. James and Sirius were usually the only ones who needed to use the cottage to leave the castle.

When James looked up he saw that Sirius had changed into his Animagus form. He smiled, knowing how much his friend loved being an Animagus. There was something indescribable about it. Actually becoming another creature was the most amazing thing James had ever experienced. He felt so alive when he was in his animal form.

He closed his eyes, concentrating, feeling the change move through him, feeling the wrench in his bones as they changed shape. No matter how much he thought he was prepared for the pain, it always seemed to startle him and take his breath away. Once it was accomplished, he could relax until such time as he changed back again (except that he was actually incredibly alert every second that he was a stag), but there was always that moment of indrawn breath, when the most unimaginable pain pierced him and reminded him that no magical advantage was without its price.

And then there was the beauty of the night seen through a stag’s eyes. He looked up, feeling the pull of the moon and hearing the wild animal cries coming from the brush around the castle and loch. He walked to the shore of Loch Ascog and did something he would normally not have done in his human form, bending down to drink the cold water, feeling the life there, the movements of the fish living in the loch, the rustling of the grasses near the shore, where small wild rodents were hoping to avoid the claws of the birds of prey who swept down in the moonlight. The night was atwitter with tens of thousands of creatures following their instincts, going through the dance of the life cycle, and James felt an awareness of this in every hair of his hide.

The large black dog trotted beside him; Sirius also drank from the loch, lapping noisily, before diving into the water and paddling out toward the center, then turning round and returning to the shore. When he was on dry land again, he shook vigorously, making drops of water fly in all directions, including onto James’ flanks. The water felt like needles striking his hide, and James poked Sirius with his antlers, in retaliation. Sirius barked cheerfully, and James could swear he was smiling mischievously, before running at a gallop toward the road to Rothesay.

They made their way toward the port town through cottage gardens and at the edges of roads. Once, when they were crossing what passed for a motorway on the island, a car began bearing down on them and James turned, fascinated, staring into the bright lights, before he felt Sirius nip him on the leg and push him to the edge of the road, the car swishing past them incredibly quickly, making Sirius’ tail appear to be moving as fast as the car, caught in its wake. James nudged Sirius’ ear with his nose, grateful for the save. He had to be careful of that tendency; it was unnerving when his animal instincts threatened to overwhelm his human common sense.

As they made their way to the port, James occasionally stopped to nibble on choice shrubs and the low-hanging branches of certain trees. He could not begin to imagine eating leaves normally (he wasn’t even very fond of salads) but when he was a stag, these leaves tasted incredibly sweet and delicious to him, and he found himself hankering for them almost from the moment of the change. Sirius, on the other hand, made a pest of himself as far as other dogs were concerned. Whenever they came to a garden with a kennel in it, he had to check to see whether the resident dog or dogs had eaten everything in their food dishes. James was tempted to go to a Muggle shop and buy tins of dog food for Sirius for his birthday. Sometimes Sirius actually opined about his favorite dog foods, and on occasional nocturnal excursions such as this, he would turn up his nose at dishes containing food scraps from the owners’ dinner tables; those people obviously didn’t care enough about their pets to give them proper nutrition. When Sirius ranted about this James tuned it out.

He had long ago concluded that one of the nicest parts of being out with his mates in animal form was the silent companionship; there was no pressure to talk, to discuss things, dissect issues, beat topics to death. James loved his friends, but when he wanted someone to talk to, he went to Lily, not to Remus, James or Peter.

Lily. How could he continue to go to her now that he was developing feelings for her? What if she caught on, and felt awkward, and stopped--stopped being there for him? He thought of the tension hovering between her and Remus. They used to be good friends, but James didn’t know what they were now that they had been lovers, and he wasn’t even clear that they were ex-lovers. There was still something there between them, he could tell, but he didn’t have a name for it, especially as Snape also seemed to be in the picture now as well.

As much as he had bared his soul to Lily many times and she had cried on him about her mother, and confessed her crush on Sirius, she had never discussed her physical relationship with Remus, even though she knew he knew about it, since he had helped take her to the hospital wing with her broken leg. And she had certainly not discussed Severus Snape with him. He wondered whether he should encourage her to do so; perhaps if she agreed, hearing about her relationships with other boys would wake him up and make it possible for him to regard her as a sister again. Giving her objective, dispassionate advice about her love life might be the very thing to remind him that she was a friend, not a girlfriend, and someone he didn’t want to lose. If they dated and it didn’t work out, he hated the idea of never being able to talk to her again as he was used to. He knew he would feel incredibly bereft if that happened.

At length, they reached the town proper, and James ducked into the shadows of a large house to change into his human form again, walking with Sirius along the mostly unlit streets, the darkness punctuated occasionally by lights from windows or briefly-opened doors, or shop windows displaying their goods to no one in particular. When they reached the quay, the bright moonlight bathing the open space there was almost blinding in contrast to the dark alleys where its light could not reach. There were a few couples walking hand in hand along the quay, the yachts bobbing gently in the water, which reflected the moon like a mirror. Suddenly, a familiar figure caught James’ eye, and he paused, then hid himself behind a tall wooden post wrapped round with a large quantity of heavy rope. Sirius didn’t notice and was still trotting along happily, enjoying his outing. James tried to beckon to him.

“Sirius!” he hissed ineffectually. “Padfoot! Come back here!”

Then Sirius noticed the figure James had seen, and he stopped, stiffening, a low growl making his entire body shiver. James peered cautiously around the post, trying not to reveal himself.

Severus Snape was striding purposefully around the deck of the nearest yacht; James saw that it bore the name Patricia. He wore loose white sailor’s trousers, the cuffs turned up a few times, revealing his pale, bony ankles above his deck shoes, and a plain white shirt with long sleeves that had been turned up so that the pale skin of his surprisingly muscled forearms was visible in the moonlight. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and he smiled at the older man who was tossing him some rope, which Snape wound several times around a large cleat on the mast in a complicated pattern that James assumed must be a specific sailing knot of some kind. It seemed almost to be a kind of ritual to Snape, winding the rope just so.

He was a Snape whom James Potter had never seen, laughing and cheerful, lifting his face to the sky as if basking in the moonlight. James saw now that the older man was very handsome; his eyes crinkled up at the young man as he watched him secure the rope.

“What are ye so cheerful aboot tonight?” the older man said in a lilting Scotch burr. “Was that a laitter from yer lass ye had this afternoon?”

James thought it might be possible Snape was actually blushing, although it was hard to tell in the light from the moon. “It was from Lily,” he acknowledged, needlessly continuing to pay attention to the rope. He looked less cheerful.

“Wail? Ain’t she yer lass? Och--sorry. Gairlfraind.”

James saw Snape stiffen, and then Sirius let out a growl and a bark, and the tall Slytherin swung his head around and glared at the dog on the quay. The older man turned and looked at the dog also before looking back at Snape.

“What is it, Severus? Afraid o’ dogs noo, are we?”

Severus Snape shook himself and looked startled. “Er, no Uncle Duncan. I’m not afraid of dogs. But that dog--” he paused, his voice dripping with suspicion. “I know I’ve seen that dog before--”

“Wail, it cood be a Grim,” his uncle said with a lopsided smile. “Cood be fortellin’ yer airly demise.” There was a hint of barely-suppressed laughter in his voice.

Snape threw a small rag to him, making him react abruptly to catch it. “Don’t be stupid. Mother always said Divination was ridiculous, especially omens.” His voice was dripping with disdain, as though he was incapable of discerning that his uncle was just trying to get him wound up. That was the Snape James was used to; he was surprised he would speak to his uncle this way, but the older man still seemed highly amused. He tossed the rag into a pail near the edge of the foredeck.

“C’mon, lad. I hear a pint callin’ me. Ef ye behave, there just might be one callin’ yer name as wail,” he grinned, loping down the gangplank onto the quay, his nephew following, swinging his arms, attempting to look carefree. James’ heart was in his throat. Please behave, Sirius, please behave, he pleaded silently, hoping his friend wouldn’t go after Snape and his uncle.

But Sirius stayed in place, fur bristling, the growl a constant low buzzing now. Snape turned and looked at the dog over his shoulder for a moment, and James ducked behind the other side of the rope-wrapped post so he wouldn’t be seen. When the uncle and nephew had disappeared inside a pub that was in view of the quay (“The Tipsy Bo’sun”) James emerged from his hiding place and said tersely to Sirius, “Come on, you. Nice work, being seen by Snape, of all people. Has he also seen you at school? Is that why he thinks you look familiar? That's brilliant. He knows you live on the island, too. I know you can’t answer right now; I prefer it that way, frankly. Damn stupid of you is all I can say. Now let’s go home before you do something else to get us both into trouble.”

However, at the first opportunity, when they were in deep shadows in an alleyway branching off from the quay, Sirius changed into his human form and grabbed James’ arm. “Didn’t you hear Snape’s uncle?” he hissed at his friend, his breath a blast of hot air in James’ face. “His uncle called Lily his girlfriend. That slimy Slytherin! Are we just going to let this happen?”

James shook his arm free and walked away from Sirius, speaking with his back turned so his friend couldn’t see his face. “What do you mean let this happen? It’s none of our business, is it? It’s between her and Snape,” he said, his stomach in knots as he thought of Snape touching her, kissing her....He felt like bending over and spewing onto the pavement....

“What do you mean, what do I mean? What about our friend? What about Remus? Don’t tell me you’re ignorant of all that.”

James stopped in surprise; had Remus told Sirius about him and Lily, or had Sirius figured it out? He faced Sirius, but he was unable to see his friend’s face in the dimness. “No,” he said softly. “I’m not ignorant. But it still doesn’t mean it’s any of our business. Whatever is--or was--between Lily and Remus is their affair, not ours.” He winced then, wishing he hadn’t used the word “affair.”

“Not if Snape is stealing her away from him!” Sirius insisted after James turned and walked on. James didn’t stop.

“Don’t be a prat,” he threw over his shoulder. “You’re just jealous because she got over the crush she had on you and didn’t like the way you made a pass at her. You’re not upset on Remus’ behalf. This is about you. I still see you looking at her. You’re as bad as Peter sometimes....”

He had heard Sirius’ footsteps following him as they turned onto a wider street, but now he heard them come to a halt. “All right, all right, Potter. That’s where I draw the line. Comparing me to Pettigrew.”

James turned and glared at him; he could see Sirius’ face now in the moonlight. “Cut that out, Sirius. His name is Peter. Although perhaps you’re not just like Peter. After all, I think she’d sooner kiss him than you, the way you botched it the last time....”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he started running flat out, knowing that as soon as he said this Sirius would be after him. They both ran for some distance in their human forms, but when James veered off and jumped over a hedge into a large garden around a grey stone house, he changed in mid-leap into his stag form, building up speed as he did so, eventually hearing the panting of the dog far behind him.

They ran like that all the way back to the castle, and the moment he saw the loch again, James couldn’t resist taking a good long drink, standing at the water’s edge, while his heart pounded rapidly in his chest and the sweat ran down his hide. It was so exhilarating to run as a stag! Sirius hadn’t caught him up yet, but he headed toward the cottage anyway, changing back so he could open the door. In truth, he hadn’t previously said anything to Sirius about his clear crush on Lily because he felt it wasn’t quite fair to tease someone about something from which he also suffered: unrequited love for Lily Evans.

When Sirius hove into sight, he headed straight for James, who laughed and closed the door in the dog’s face, knowing that Sirius would have to become human again to turn the knob. When he did, James was already heading down the steps into the passage leading back to the castle dungeons. He was at least a full flight of stairs ahead of Sirius all the way back up to their room, and had changed into his pajamas and climbed into his bed by the time Sirius had reached the top floor. Sirius glared at him when he entered the room, and undressed in brooding silence before climbing into his own bed and extinguishing the lights.

After they had lain in their beds quietly for some minutes, Sirius said, “I asked the Rothesay harbormaster about her once. The Patricia, I mean. He said, ‘It’s a yare ship out of Dunoon, captain by the name of MacDermid. They usually tie-up in Rothesay after dark, but they do the odd yacht race.’ At night, Prongs. Why would they need to sail at night, usually? Why?”

James groaned into the darkness. “Are you still on about that? Yes, it’s very likely that Snape, a seventeen-year-old vampire, is participating in yacht races with his uncle on the Firth of Clyde,” he said sarcastically, hoping Sirius would hear how absurd this sounded.

“I don’t care what you think; there’s something very off about him, even beyond his being a Slytherin. He definitely shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Lily.”

“Don’t you think that’s up to Lily to decide?” He secretly agreed with his best friend (not about the vampire silliness), but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, somehow.

Sirius was silent for a minute, fuming into the darkness. James didn’t say anything else, hoping he would be able to fall asleep soon, but unable to forget lying in Lily’s bed, his body curled around hers....

At length, when he finally was starting to drift off, he wasn’t sure he caught the words Sirius was mumbling into the darkness:

“I’m going to get Snape away from Lily if it kills me. Or him.”

* * * * *

Monday, 28 August, 1977

“Bill!”

He felt small hands pulling at him. He rolled over, pushing them away.

“Go ‘way. Sleep...”

“Bill!” His eyes flew open and he blinked a few times. an orange blur was standing by his bedside. He had to blink a few more times before it ceased to be a blur. It was Peggy. Her eyes were wild and she looked like she’d been crying. He sat up in bed, looking over at Charlie, still snoring and oblivious, and Jack, who was sleeping in a camp bed between the two larger beds. Jack had been with them for a few days and would be leaving for Hogwarts with them. Early morning light was filtering into the room, a color both grey and peach.

Bill rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Wha’s wrong, Peg...?”

Her lip trembled. “It’s Daddy.”

Bill felt wide awake now. He grasped his four-year-old sister’s shoulders and held her still. “What? What’s happened to Dad?” He had no doubt that whatever Peggy had to tell him, it would be important. He had learned to trust her, even as he had grown increasingly wary of her premonitions. He had also cautioned her against telling just anyone that she had premonitions, since there were people who didn’t like people like her, people who had the Sight. He was quite certain by now that she was a Seer, and he was afraid for her. However, he had made certain that she knew she could always come to him and tell him anything. Unfortunately, she always seemed to have things to tell him when he was still in bed, asleep, and it was barely sunrise.

He moved over and patted the mattress next to him and she scrambled into the bed, her small thin body feeling oddly cold next to his; he felt almost no body heat emanating from her through his pajamas. He held her in his arms, trying to warm her.

“Tell me about it, Peg,” he whispered to her. She looked up at him with large eyes.

“Daddy’s killed a man.”

Bill looked at her, frozen, unable to say anything. She peered up at him. “Did you hear me, Bill?”

He shook himself. “Ye-yeah. I heard you. You’re sure? It’s already happened?” She nodded. “Did you know about it--before?” She started crying, nodded.

“I hoped I was wrong,” she sobbed. “And now--now Daddy is in trouble--:”

Bill’s heart was in his throat. “He is?” But that was stupid; of course his father would be in trouble.

He’d killed a man.

Bill knew that his father had gone out on night-raid duty. Informants had given his department information about homes in which there was contraband, and Bill’s father’s duty was to get warrants and then go on surprise raids, which were the most successful, historically, although also dangerous. His father had gotten into numerous duels and had sustained some bad wounds; he had had more hexes and curses hurled at him than he could count. Bill remembered visiting his father at work and wished that that was all his father ever had to do, boring paperwork. That visit had not shown his children the full extent of the dangers his job held, especially now that so many people were falling in line behind Voldemort.

Bill thought his name, but he’d never dared say it; he always said what everyone else said: You-Know-Who. Bill hated knowing his dad was going on raids overnight; he always feared the worst, that they would hear, in the morning, that his father’s considerable skills as a duelist had failed him, and he’d been killed by a dark wizard.

Little did Bill realize then that there was something else to be feared. His father hadn’t been killed. It was he who had done the killing, and now he was in trouble. Bill swallowed. What if his father went to prison? What would they all do then?

He looked down at Peggy, who was crying quietly, her head on his chest. He tightened his hold on her and rocked her gently.

“Ssh, Peggy, ssh. It will be all right....”

But he didn’t know that. He could only hope.

* * * * *

Lily sighed and closed her trunk, having now packed away all of the school supplies that she would need for the coming year. She had met Cecilia Ratkowski in Diagon Alley on Saturday and bought what she needed, enjoying spending time with her friend without having to compete for her attention with the Hufflepuff girls.

Lily had driven across London in Petunia’s car, at their parents behest, and after reaching the Leaky Cauldron, where she was meeting Cecilia, Petunia climbed into the driver’s seat to go back down to Surrey, where she lived with her new husband, the son of the director of the Grunnings drill factory. Her sister had been very snappish about doing this; she seemed to think that, having gotten married in early June, she would no longer be requested to do things like help Lily practice driving, so she could test for her license before returning to school. (She still only had her provo.) Petunia was also whinging the entire time about being late for work at the factory; Lily wasn’t sure why she needed to worry about tardiness, though, as she was now working for her father-in-law, and her husband would be taking over for his father as soon as the old man retired, in a year or two. Lily thought the only person more vile than old Mr. Dursley was his son, Vernon, and now he was her brother-in-law.

Lily hadn’t known about the wedding. She’d found out after returning home that Petunia had claimed that she’d sent a letter off to Lily about it, asking whether she minded it being in June, since Lily would still be at school. She’d lied to their parents and claimed that Lily had written back to say that it was fine with her. Lily had had to hide hide her shock when she learned of the wedding or risk Petunia’s wrath. (She had also to put up with her father berating her, asking her why she hadn’t wanted to come to the wedding she’d known nothing about.)

Lily wasn't terrifically surprised; she had felt her sister’s resentment keenly ever since Professor McGonagall had shown up at the Leicestershire house to tell her she was a witch, but she never imagined that Petunia would do such a despicable thing as purposefully exclude her own sister from her wedding. Truthfully, Lily wasn’t upset about not getting to see Petunia marry Vernon Dursley, whom she avoided whenever she could. It was the principle of the thing. She was Petunia’s sister. She should have been there. When she confronted Petunia about this in the lounge at St. Michael’s, while they were waiting for their mother to emerge from her chemotherapy (their father was talking to the doctor in his office) Petunia’s face had turned red.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t want you at my wedding? I’ll tell you! I didn’t want you to turn it into a circus! I didn’t want my flowers changing into slugs; I didn’t want the punch to leap out of the bowl; I didn’t want the cake to get up and start dancing....I just wanted a nice, normal wedding with other nice normal people. And for that, you just don’t qualify!”

Lily scowled. “Are we going to talk about that again?”

“No, we are not, because you evidently don’t care enough about our mother to--”

“I can’t, Petunia! I’m not allowed!”

“You said you’re allowed to do--that--outside of school now that you’re over seventeen!” her sister hissed, her face very close to Lily’s. “You could save her life, but you won’t!”

“You don’t understand. There are other laws besides restrictions on doing--things--while underage.”

Lily agonized over her mother. She wished she could do something to save her, but she didn’t have training with medical magic, and even if she did, she would be breaking the law to perform medical magic on a Muggle. However, breaking the law didn’t concern her as much as the possibility of hurting her mother. She knew that if you didn’t know what you were doing, you could kill someone from botching up something like trying to remove cancerous cells from a person. What if I removed her liver, instead? Lily thought. Petunia had tried telling her that if she couldn’t do it herself, she should find someone else who could, but then that would entail talking someone else into breaking the law.

So, the rift between her and Petunia having grown wider than ever, Lily found herself taking a vicious delight in performing magic when Petunia was around, now that it was legal for her to do so. (And she wasn’t technically breaking the law, as Petunia wasn’t your average Muggle, but the sister of a witch.) She’d had such a stitch in her side from laughing after her sister had been about to drink some tea at their house one evening (Petunia had stopped by after visiting their mother in hospital, and their father hadn’t come home from St. Michael’s yet). The cup had turned into a small hamster in her hand. Her sister had thrown the animal violently across the table, screeching deafeningly, and if looks could kill, Lily would have been struck down dead a score of times.

“Careful!” she’d said to her hysterical older sister. “You’ll hurt it! I’m sorry,” she said, her laughter barely contained. “The other teacups were all dirty, so I did a Transfiguration spell to make another one. I suppose I was still tired and it was a rather sloppy spell; it shouldn’t have worn off already....”

Petunia was looking daggers at her. “Even if it hadn’t worn off, how can you let me drink my tea out of--out of a filthy rat?”

“It’s not a rat, it’s--”

“A mouse, then!” she screeched. “I was going to drink my tea from a mouse!”

“It’s a hamster, actually,” Lily told her, about to lose her composure completely. She picked up the small frightened creature, feeling its tiny heart beating rapidly against her fingers. Her sister’s bottle-blonde hair was a wild halo around her head, and her blouse was spattered with spilled tea, but holding the hamster, Lily found that she was far more sorry that she’d subjected the poor hamster to her sister than the other way round.

When Petunia marched indignantly from the house, Lily pressed her lips together, shaking with mirth, and didn’t let herself laugh out loud until she heard Petunia’s car door close with an angry slam! When she finally let herself laugh freely, she had tears running down her face. It took some time for her to calm down, and she went to sit in the kitchen, on the couch by the fire, stroking the soft fur of the tiny hamster, wishing there was someone else to laugh with her about her little prank. The lads would appreciate this, no doubt, she thought. She wished she could have gone to James’ birthday party in Scotland, but her mother had been going through a particularly frightful time and she didn’t dare ask for permission to go to a party instead of sitting with the rest of the family in the hospital lounge, waiting for her mother to emerge from therapy, shaking and pale and skeletal, with no eyebrows to give her face expression. Oddly, that was one of the things that had struck Lily the most: it was very hard to read her mother’s expressions without the eyebrows. She’d never really considered before how much of people’s emotions are communicated by those two little stretches of hair growing on the brow.

After closing her trunk, Lily looked around her room and went to her desk, under the window which looked out on the long, narrow city garden, so different from the sprawling wilderness of the garden in Leicestershire they’d left behind when they’d moved to the city. This garden was very prim and formal, with its brick walks and raised flower beds, its evenly-spaced benches and little gurgling fountain spewing water from a pouting dolphin’s mouth. She thought about the way it had looked the night before, in the moonlight, when she’d sat at her desk in the dark, staring out over the garden, and the answer to the Remus conundrum had lit up her brain like a wildfire.

The moon. Every time the lads were out with Remus, she had come to realize, it had been during the full moon. And every time she had been with Remus, it had been right before the full moon. She hadn’t wanted it to be true, she had denied it and told herself it was ridiculous. And yet....

She recalled many things about Remus that seemed to point to the truth: the hair growth, for a start. How many teenage boys were that hairy? And he was pale, so pale....

She’d turned on the desk lamp and taken out her Defense Against the Dark Arts book, turning to the last chapter, on werewolves. But the longer she read, the more optimistic she became. Of course! How could she have been so stupid! The headmaster would never have let a werewolf into the school! She felt ashamed of having been so silly to even briefly think this could be the answer.

She resisted the temptation now to pull the book out of the trunk again and look at the last chapter. The author of the text acknowledged that, over the centuries, many people had been erroneously labeled as werewolves because they suffered from porphyria. It also discussed people who had been erroneously labeled as vampires because of a different version of the disease. Lily couldn’t quite believe it, but it seemed that both boys she’d fallen for had the same disease! That explained Remus’ trips to the hospital wing at odd times, and his moodiness at others. She laughed at herself again for having thought even for a moment that Remus might be a werewolf, but then she remembered that she had also briefly thought Severus might really be a vampire, after he’d kissed her under the oaks.

She decided that when the new term started, she would tell Remus that she knew about the porphyria. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so distant with her any more after that. Perhaps they could repair their relationship (perhaps they could have a real relationship). She thought of Severus, and having to let him down easily. Sometimes she became fluttery, thinking of being with him, but when she was being completely honest with herself, she knew that her feelings for Remus were stronger and that she should end the relationship with Severus. She wished she hadn’t written to him implying otherwise, earlier in the summer, as that would be rather hard to undo now.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and concentrated, thinking, Wingardium leviosa. She knew that when she opened her eyes, many of the small objects in the room would be floating in the air. She enjoyed doing this charm as a magical exercise, without her wand, moving the small figurines and desk supplies and her clock about the room in a gentle dance. However, a moment after she performed the charm, she heard a scream come from the doorway. She whirled, finding her brother-in-law standing there, his mouth open in a horrified circle as he stared at the floating fireplace poker before him. Lily screamed as well, and lost her concentration. All of the floating objects crashed to the floor. Vernon Dursley looked at her with wide eyes before turning and bolting.

Lily ran down the stairs after him. He was out of the house by the time she had reached the foot of the stairs. She remembered then that Petunia and Vernon were picking her up to take her to see their mother; their father had stayed the night with her. Vernon had evidently let himself into the house with Petunia’s key and, when he hadn’t found Lily downstairs, he’d gone up to her room to look for her. Lily closed the front door hurriedly and dashed to the car where Vernon sat, gibbering, while Petunia glared at her sister. Lily reached her hand out and opened the car door, sliding into the back seat, crossing her arms and feeling disagreeable.

Petunia turned to her husband, stroking his shaking shoulders. “What is it, sweetums? What did my nasty sister do?”

Her portly husband looked up at her; Lily thought it possible that he hadn’t blinked since he’d left the doorway of her room. “She--she--if I told you, you’d think I was mad!”

Lily sighed impatiently. “Don’t tell me you haven’t told him, Petunia. After all, he’s part of the family now. He should know.” She turned to the shaking, shivering mess of a man before her. “It’s very simple. I’m a witch. That’s why Petunia didn’t want me at the wedding. I can do magic. So, now you know.”

Petunia pointed at the car door. “Out!” she screeched. “Get out!” Lily looked at her in disbelief, then drew her lips into a line.

“Fine!” she spat in return. “I’ll take the tube. I’ll see you there!”

She opened the car door again and stood on the pavement; she had no sooner slammed the door than Vernon had floored the accelerator and sped off. Lily felt hot tears prickling behind her eyelids. What did I ever do to get a sister like Petunia? she wondered. Sniffling for a moment, she checked her purse to see whether she had the fare for the tube, then closed it and began walking dejectedly toward the nearest station, glad that she would be returning to school in a few days.

* * * * *

The Weasley children and their guest, Jack Richards, were uncharacteristically quiet as they sat round the large kitchen table having their tea. They were all very tense; when Charlie and Jack had awoken that morning, they’d found Peggy curled up with Bill, both of them sleeping peacefully, and when the two of them had been shaken awake, Bill explained what had happened. It turned out that Annie already knew, when they tried to tell her. (Peggy had told her first, and told her to go to Bill.)

All day, the children had moped around the house, waiting for Arthur Weasley to come home.

At breakfast, Bill had asked his mother when their father was returning, and she had been very flustered, responding nervously, “He--your father owled me. He’s been detained. I mean--he still has to stay at the office for a bit longer. Because of last night’s raids. Don’t you worry about your dad.”

But while she said this she looked very worried herself. Bill had gone into the living room to report to the others. Annie sat in a chair near the fire, looking very disgruntled. “We’ll have to emigrate,” she said at last.

“What?” Charlie said scornfully. “Are you daft? Why would we have to emigrate?”

“Because our father is a murderer, stupid, that’s why. How is Mum going to support us all once Dad’s in prison? No one will give her a job, the wife of a murderer. We’ll have to go to Canada or Australia or something.”

No one had anything to say to that. They tried to imagine living somewhere else, and specifically, living without their father, and couldn’t.

Oblivious to his siblings’ worries, Percy toddled over to Peggy, who was sitting cross-legged on the hearth-rug, and deposited himself comfortably in her lap, as though she was an armchair. He looked up at her and smiled, and she brightened and smiled back, hugging him to her. Then suddenly, Bill saw her jaw go slack and her eyes became vacant and opaque. He felt an irrational apprehension grip him.

“Peggy! Peggy!” he cried. After a few moments, she finally came round, looking up in surprise.

“What?”

“You--you were--” Bill couldn’t finish. She smiled at him.

“Oh, Bill! It’s all right. It will be all right. Daddy will be home later,” she said calmly, rocking back and forth, humming to Percy.

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

She looked him in the eye and simply and calmly said, “Yes.”

But Bill was not feeling very optimistic when they had finished their tea and were helping to clear the table, and Dad still was not home. They were all just about to leave the kitchen when a sudden pop! was heard near the cooker, and Bill turned to see his father, tired and unshaven, his shabby old work robes looking shabbier than ever. He was taking off his glasses so he could rub his eyes.

“Dad!” Bill cried with relief, diving across the room. Charlie followed, then Peggy. He enveloped them in a warm embrace, while Jack stood to one side, smiling shyly.

“Good to see you, Mr. Weasley.” Arthur Weasley nodded at the boy.

“It’s good to be back, Jack.” He laughed then, because he’d rhymed, and picked Peggy up, her thin legs and arms wrapped around him. He held out his hand to Annie. “Where’s my other girl? Where’s my Annie-girl?” he grinned at her.

Annie looked back at him truculently and his face fell. He swallowed. The cheerful atmosphere suddenly evaporated.

“Er, well. I need to speak to Mum now, everybody. You lot go into the other room, all right? This may take a while.”

Bill herded the others into the living room, closing the kitchen door behind him. But once he was in the living room, all he could do was pace nervously. Jack tried to calm him down.

“Sit, Bill. I’m sure it’s--”

“No. No,” he repeated, wringing his hands. “I--I can’t not know....”

Jack raised his eyebrows at him. Charlie stood and approached them. His brother motioned toward the door.

“Go on, then. Tell us what they say.”

Bill looked at the two of them, then at the girls, playing with Percy on the rug. He nodded grimly.

“All right. But if I get caught, this was my idea and you tried to stop me.”

Charlie pushed him toward the door. “Oh, stop being noble for once and just get out there and eavesdrop on our parents.” He was grinning at Bill, who grinned back at him. When he was standing in the corridor between the two rooms, he moved tentatively toward the kitchen door, trying not to make a sound, and put his ear to the wood, holding his breath.

“Oh, Arthur!” he heard his mother say. “They didn’t!”

“It’s all right, love, it’s all right. It’s--it’s not too bad being around dementors for a short time. I’m fine now...” His father’s voice was shaking.

“Nonsense! I’m making you some hot chocolate...”

A few moments later, Bill heard his father slurping something. “Mm, that’s just right, Molly. Thanks. Alastor fetched me some chocolate at the Ministry, but I suppose I could do with more...”

“Just tell me what happened, Arthur. Your owl was so cryptic.”

Bill heard his father sigh noisily. “We received a tip that this large manor house had contraband stashed in the library. So we went--Perkins and Alastor and I--and I showed them the warrant and they were just as shocked as you please. ‘Contraband? Here? Surely not!’ You know the sort. Innocent as lambs, right up until the point when I find the illegal material...

“So there I am, searching the library, taking all of these ruddy dusty books off the shelves and flipping through them, to look for book boxes, and Perkins is going through the desk and Alastor is guarding the doorway into the entrance hall. The owner comes to the door and asks whether he can get us anything to drink. Well, you know Alastor; won’t drink anything that doesn’t come from his hip flask. I was parched and had dust in my throat, but I felt it wiser to turn him down. It may not have been a trick, but if it was, who knows what he might really have been giving us to drink?

“At any rate, Perkins didn’t find anything in the desk and I wasn’t finding anything either, and we were starting to wonder whether we were being led on a merry chase. The owner’s son came to the door and suggested that someone who didn’t like his dad was trying to make him look bad--and then I found something. I tried flipping through a book and found that I couldn’t. It was a box. I broke the locking charm on it and the son started for me, but Alastor held him in check.

“But then I found the mother-lode. A bookcase that wasn’t a bookcase at all--it was a door. I was trying to break the charm keeping it closed when the son yelled for his father, who came in blasting away at me. I dodged his first attempt, but his second caught me on the leg...”

“Oh, Arthur! Are you--”

“Molly, calm down. Minor burns. I’ve been treated. The thing is--he--he stunned Alastor and then--then he--”

Bill thought his father just might be breaking down and crying. He heard his mother crooning to him, and finally, tears in his voice, his father began speaking again.

“It’s as bad as they say it is, Molly. Like knives piercing every inch of your body at the same time that you’re being burned alive....”

Bill’s knees felt weak. He’d read descriptions of what the Cruciatus Curse felt like, but to imagine his father suffering that was just horrible.

“When he took the curse off me, the first thing I did was to revive Alastor, who went after the son and bound him up good while I disarmed the father. However--there was a problem--”

“What, Arthur?”

His father sighed. “Well, he was trying to curse me again.”

His mother gasped in horror. “Not the Cruciatus again?”

“No. This time--” He paused, and Bill waited, his heart in his throat. “This time he wasn’t just trying to hurt me. He was aiming to kill.”

“Arthur!”

His father sounded like he was crying again. “I had to do it quickly. I would have been dead if I’d waited any longer....His wand came flying toward me, and I caught it. He went flying backwards. The trouble was, he had this collection of armor in the entrance hall. Flew right into it, and this pike came down on him, right through his--right through his neck.” Bill covered his mouth in horror. “Other things, too. He was a mess. Bit of a chain reaction, all of those weapons on display, and him barreling right into them....”

He cleared his throat and Bill heard him slurping his hot chocolate. “Well, Alastor and Perkins testified to its being self-defense, of course, but the son was insisting I’d killed his dad in cold blood....”

“How--how old was the lad?”

Bill’s father laughed. “Not exactly a lad. Well, not old either. But out of school. Early twenties. He’s threatening all kinds of bad publicity now. Fudge was trying to pacify him. I don’t know why he was bothering; we probably should lock up the son for attempting to alert his father that we were going to get into that hidden chamber. Trouble is, I don’t know when we’ll next be able to get in there and look around, and by then, the son will probably have it cleaned out. I’ve been going through interrogation all day, Molly. I’m so tired I could sleep for a week....”

“Well, I’ll tell the children not to disturb you so you can get up bright and early tomorrow morning and go in to--”

“No. I’m, er, suspended for a fortnight.”

“What?” Bill’s mother was indignant.

“Routine. Until the inquiry is over. Crouch is convinced I’ll be fine, no charges.” He sighed yet again. “I can tell, you, though, Molly, I was very worried for a while there. Kept picturing you having the baby all by yourself--”

“Don’t you fret about that. I’m only a month or so along. Well, six weeks. I’m just glad you’re not--you’re not--”

Then Bill heard something that sounded distinctly like kissing. “I’m fine, Molly. Now that I’m here with you, I’m fine. Young Lucius Malfoy won’t trouble us.”

Bill heard the chairs scrape on the floor and he quickly crept back to the living room, closing the door quietly. He put his finger before his lips to tell Jack and his siblings to be quiet, and a moment later, his father had come into the room, beaming at them all, but still with a shadow behind his blue eyes.

“So, how was your day?” he asked them, as though they hadn’t spent the entire day worried that he was going to prison for murder. Annie stood and stalked to the door. She glared at her father before leaving. Bill wondered whether she still thought they’d have to emigrate. Or whether she considered their father to be a murderer.

As far as he was concerned, he had the best dad in the world. He looked at him with shining eyes.

“Better, now that you’re home,” he told his father, who pulled Bill to him in a tight hug, tears flowing down his face. Bill held onto his father, heedless of what Jack and Charlie might think, and was very glad he wasn’t going to have to be the man of the family at the age of thirteen.

* * * * *

Monday, 18 September, 1977

“Where are we going, Severus?”

Her boyfriend, in response, pulled her to him and lowered his mouth to hers. She slid her arms up around his neck, feeling her pulse quicken as she responded to the kiss. When he pulled back from her, he said, “It’s a surprise.”

He took her hand, smiling, and Lily thought he’d never looked happier or handsomer as she tripped after him. I made the right decision, she told herself again. Being with Severus feels right.

She hadn’t been able to wait to talk to Remus at the beginning of the term and she’d gone to see him in the compartment on the Hogwarts Express that he was sharing with Sirius and Peter. He’d looked nervous about it, but he’d gone with her to the compartment she’d been sharing with James; she had asked him whether he could give them some privacy, and James had agreed, although his facial expression was rather odd and didn’t seem to match his words.

Once she’d been alone with Remus in the compartment, she’d spilled out her heart to him.

“Remus,” she’d begun, sitting next to him, putting her hand on his, where it rested on his knee. “I--I know. About you. I know what your--your illness is.” He opened his eyes wide, and she tried to reassure him. “Sssh! It’s all right. I’m fine with it. Why shouldn’t I be? Severus has the same problem.” Now Remus looked as pale as parchment. “But he told me about it himself. Why couldn’t you have told me? Why didn’t you think I’d understand? Is it because it’s hereditary, because your children may have it too? I don’t care about that--”

Now Remus was frowning. “Erm, Lily, I don’t think you--you do quite understand--”

She smiled and put her hands on his shoulders. “I know you don’t think I do, but that’s obviously why you didn’t tell me you have porphyria!”

Silence. Everlasting silence.

“What?” Remus finally sputtered. “I--what?”

“And I don’t care, Remus! I don’t! For a minute I thought--no, I can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m daft if I do...”

She saw him swallow nervously. “W-what? What did you think?”

She laughed and stroked the side of his face. “I actually considered that you might be a werewolf. So stupid! But then I read about people who had porphyria being mistaken for werewolves, and I already knew something about it because of Severus, and it all started to make sense...”

And then he gasped as she climbed onto his lap and slid her arms around his neck. “But I want you to know that even though you didn’t tell me, I forgive you. I’ve wanted to tell you this for so long....I was never with you as a friend, Remus,” she whispered, her mouth millimeters away from his. “I love you--I have done, for the better part of two years. I love you and nothing you can tell me about yourself can change my mind about that, because I know your secret now, so there’s nothing you can use as an excuse for our not being together....”

She spoke quickly, afraid she would lose her nerve, and then she was kissing him and he was making that animal noise in the back of his throat that she loved, and his arms tightened around her and she felt a surge of happiness swell up in her heart so that she thought it would burst. He was kissing her back; he felt the same! She slid the fingers of her right hand into the hair at the back of his head, loving the silkiness of it, loving the taste and feel of him. But then suddenly, his muscles stiffened and he pulled back from her, standing abruptly, making her fall to the floor.

“No--no, Lily. I’m sorry--I can’t do this. I can’t pretend that--that I feel the same. I would be taking advantage of you. To let you believe--I couldn’t do that. When we agreed it was--that we were just friends, it was one thing. But--but I can’t--”

She looked up from the floor, feeling her heart shattering. Then she remembered something. “Wait! You’re lying! You--you told me you loved me! That was you, wasn’t it? In the infirmary! I thought it was a dream at first, but I don’t think so now....You thought I was asleep and you apologized for hurting me, and told me you loved me....”

Remus looked very open and vulnerable, but then he shook his head adamantly. “No, Lily, you’re wrong. That was a dream. I--I only think of you as a friend, Lily. A friend who was--who was very accommodating. But if you--if you think you have feelings for me--I don’t see how we can--I mean, I would just be leading you on--”

He bolted for the door, and she screamed at him, “Liar!” The tears were streaming down her face. His words had been so hurtful, but the entire time, the look of love on his face had been unmistakable. How could he stand there, looking like that, and lying to her about this? And if he loved her, why wouldn’t he want her to feel the same way?

When he slid open the compartment door, he came face to face with Severus Snape; James was standing next to him, trying to pull him away from the door. Remus stopped abruptly, then pushed past the tall Slytherin. Lily scrambled to her feet, wiping her tears from her face hastily, as Severus and James were giving her odd looks.

“Oh, er, Severus. What are you doing here?”

“Well--you said you needed to talk to me about something when we reached Hogwarts. But I couldn’t wait.” He looked pointedly at James’ hand on his upper arm and James removed it, looking reluctant.

Lily saw James swallow before he said, “I think I’ll go sit with my mates. So they know being Head Boy hasn’t changed me.” Lily noticed that he was behaving as strangely as Remus, though; his words also didn’t match his facial expression. He looked like the last thing in the world he wanted to do was leave her alone with Severus Snape. In spite of this, he set off in the same direction as Remus. Lily looked nervously at Severus.

“Won’t--won’t you come in?” she said, her voice shaking. He stepped into the compartment and gave her the same look Remus had given her, the look of love, but somehow Lily didn’t think he was going to run away from her if she said she felt the same way. She watched him, thinking, How could I have been so thick? How could I have thought Remus would want to be with me? But it was precisely because she knew that look; the real mystery was why he wouldn’t admit it, why he was running from her now.

They sat together and Severus took her hands in his, which were wind-roughened from sailing, although there was no hint of a tan.

“What did you want to tell me, Lily?”

She looked into his dark eyes and ached. He cared so for her. She should return that. She should stop being a dolt and see what was right in front of her.

“There’s something I haven’t said to you, and I’ve waited so long. I--I just hope you’ll forgive me for not doing it sooner....” She swallowed again before saying, in a rush, “I love you, Severus.” It was just the opposite of what she’d really been planning to tell him, but it was still true. She did love him--just not as much as Remus. She’d been very nervous about breaking it off with Severus, as she didn’t want to hurt him. This was far better, she thought. Remus did me a favor....

He smiled then, the deep dimples in his cheeks looking deeper than she’d ever seen them, and she was glad she’d said it, glad she’d made him so happy. As he lowered his mouth to hers, she pushed away the memory of Remus, wondering again what she could have been thinking, trying to forget it had ever happened, that she’d ever been with anyone else....

The day before, on Sunday, Lily had seen that Remus was in misery, the kind of misery she had previously “helped” him with. She made a point of going up to the Owlery and using Calliope to send a note to Severus, asking him to meet her in the Potions dungeon. There they talked and kissed (no one ever went there on Sundays) and made plans to sneak out of their dorms to meet the next evening. Lily knew that if Remus and the others followed their usual pattern, the night after Remus’ “problems,” they would all be out of Gryffindor Tower, and she could meet with Severus without risking running into any of them. Remus may not really be a werewolf, she thought, but he certainly has an unhealthy attraction to the full moon. Maybe it makes him feel better....

She had tried to talk to James about it, tried to tell him she knew that Remus had porphyria. His jaw dropped. “No, he doesn’t,” he said, frowning, then walking away from her, not saying anything else. She didn’t know what to think. Was he covering up for Remus still, not realizing Lily knew?

She had watched them leave, after dinner; first the others slipped away when they thought no one was watching, then Madam Pomfrey came to get Remus. Why would Madam Pomfrey come to get him if he didn't have porphyria? she thought. She went upstairs to her dorm to take a nap, so she would be wide awake later. When her roommates came to bed, their noise awoke her, but she feigned sleep, waiting for them to settle down before creeping from her bed, fully clothed, and descending the stairs to the common room.

She was going to give herself to Severus completely. She shivered at the thought; it was something she’d been putting off, as she had still been fixated on Remus, but now she felt that she was able to move on and have the kind of relationship with Severus that he’d clearly wanted to have for some time. (He’d never pressured her, but she had been able to tell how frustrated he’d been.)

At twelve-thirty exactly, she opened the portrait and crept from Gryffindor Tower, finding Severus waiting for her in the corridor, where she’d told him to be. He looked surprised to see the portrait swing out from the stone wall, and then the smoldering look he gave her took her breath away. To be so loved and wanted was almost frightening. He was so intense sometimes. She reached out her hand and he enveloped it in his, never taking his eyes from hers.

“Where are we going, Severus?”

After he kissed her, he said, “It’s a surprise.”

They sped along the corridors, hand in hand, going down to the dungeons and then to a very familiar area, to a particular room, making Lily’s brow break out in nervous perspiration, hoping she was wrong about where they were going....

But it was far different than it had been when she’d been here with Remus. Severus had done it over completely, including repairing the door and putting a good locking spell on it. The formerly dusty, cobwebby trysting room was devoid of everything except a beautiful wrought-iron bed with a combination of red and green draperies. And candles....There must have been a hundred candles around the room of different sizes and shapes, adding a golden sheen to everything..

And then Severus added the finishing touch, and he pulled a book of music out from underneath the bed; the title proclaimed that it was a series of string quartets, and Lily frowned, hoping he wasn’t going to conjure musicians, as she didn’t fancy anyone--even conjured people--being present at a time like this. However, he tapped the book with his wand and said, “Harmonia mundi,” and suddenly, from the pages of the book, the music emerged as though a string quartet really were present, playing soft, romantic melodies, the harmonies intertwining and supporting each other. The book lay on the floor now, open, and as the music progressed, the pages turned of their own accord, slowly flipping as though being moved by an unseen hand.

Lily laughed, watching and listening. “You’ve thought of everything, Severus,” she said, delighted. He stood and looked at her, suddenly very serious, and when she saw that, she stopped laughing.

“I love you, Lily,” he said, his eyes burning into hers. She felt like she had stopped breathing for a moment.

“I love you, Severus,” she whispered. And if she didn’t feel it quite as strongly as him, did it really matter? She did feel it, she did want to be with him, especially at this moment. She felt overwhelmed with the need to touch him, and walked toward him tentatively, hoping he wouldn’t ask her whether she’d ever been with someone else, because she didn’t want to lie to him, but she didn’t want him to know the truth, either. If he just doesn’t ask....

But soon, there was no conversation at all, just the sound of the music and their breathing and occasional gasps and other vocal, but not verbal, reactions. He was holding her and kissing her ravenously, and she was shuddering against him, feeling his desire for her, glad that it was nothing like being with Remus, with his odd snuffling at her neck and hands, the eerie red glow in his eyes....

Severus unbuttoned her robes and slid them from her shoulders and she did the same for him. He started fumbling with her clothes then, but she stopped him. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of it.” She removed her blouse and skirt, her tights and shoes, and stood facing him in nothing but her underwear. She felt slightly ridiculous, as she was so tall and thin, not curvaceous, like other girls. She was suddenly very glad that she and Remus had usually met in darkness, and wished she dared extinguish every candle in the room; they no longer seemed romantic, but as though they were highlighting every physical flaw she possessed.

He had removed everything but his drawers, moving very quickly, and she gasped at the sight of him. “Severus,” she whispered in awe. She truly hadn’t expected him to be so beautiful; his skin was like alabaster, his calves and thighs strong and muscular, his chest and arms...He was like a sculpture by Michelangelo, he was perfection.

Now she felt more self-conscious than ever, more inadequate than ever. What does he see in me? she wondered, putting her hand over her stomach, glancing down at her chest. I don’t even fill my bra cups. I look like an idiot...

Severus took her in his arms, brushing her hair from her face, and she looked up at him, startled to see the incredible desire there. When his mouth came down on hers, it was with a new kind of hunger, and this was more familiar now; Remus had kissed her like this. No, no, don’t think about Remus! His mouth traveled down her throat, then further, and she felt his hands behind her, unclasping her bra, gently sliding it down her arms.

When he took her left breast in his mouth, she thought she would melt from the warmth spreading out from her loins, then through her limbs. He knelt before her and she bent over him, his hands on her bottom, gently taking the elastic of her knickers and drawing them down over her hips, her thighs. Then he switched to the other breast, and caressed her, moving his hands here, there, everywhere, constantly surprising her, as though he wanted to touch her everywhere at once and couldn’t decide on just one spot.

She gasped and straightened up, moving toward the bed. He watched her, his eyes dilated, and when he stood and finally removed his drawers, Lily felt so warm she was afraid she’d backed into a candle and set herself on fire. He joined her on the bed, and it was so wonderful to feel his skin on hers, to be able to touch him everywhere, to have the time to explore and experiment....

After a time, he was lying down and she was sitting astride him, and the look in his eyes spoke of such love that Lily couldn’t bear it any more. She had to tell him, at least a little. She couldn’t pretend she’d never made love before. He’d know.

“Severus,” she whispered. He put his hand on her cheek and smiled at her.

“Yes, love?” Her heart skipped a beat; he’d never called her that before. She tried not to feel foolish for liking it a great deal.

“I feel I should tell you--I’m not a virgin. I--I made a mistake. He was a mistake. He--he said he never loved me. I don’t want to say who it was,” she added quickly, when he looked like he was going to ask. “I just wanted to be honest with you. I didn’t want--I don’t want you to think I’ve never--I mean--”

“Sssh,” he said softly, his hand cupping her cheek lovingly. “I don’t care. If anything--well, if you have more experience than I do, that’s not such a bad thing, is it? You can tell me, er, what you like--”

She bent down and kissed him softly on the lips, then moved her mouth down his throat and onto his chest, gently licking each of his nipples in turn. “Everything you’ve done so far,” she whispered to his shining skin. He moaned under her and then reached down to grasp her hips.

“Could we--do you want to--?” he gasped.

“Are you ready?” she asked him, raising her head. He nodded vigorously.

“God, yes! I’ve been ready!”

She laughed and kissed him again, then shifted her hips and moved down carefully, so that she was engulfing him. He squeezed his eyes shut, and his hands on her hips were almost painful.

“Oh, Lily....”

As she moved above him and he met her movements with upward thrusts of his hips, she guided his hands to her body, showing him where to touch her, and he obliged, soon making her cry out as the sensations rolled through her, so that when she closed her eyes, she saw stars and felt tingling in every nerve ending she had, it seemed. When he could tell she was sated, he held her to him tightly and gently rolled her over, continuing to move above her while they kissed, and soon after that she felt him shuddering too, as she held him to her with her legs, so tightly it felt like she’d made him a part of her, and she gave a small gasp as another, smaller tremor moved through her and left as quickly as it had come.

She smiled up at him, loving the amazed expression on his face, incredibly glad that she had decided to be with him, and also glad that he hadn’t been upset that she wasn’t a virgin. Who else would take that news as well as he had? she thought. Granted, he was about to stop being a virgin himself, and being upset with her would probably have meant prolonging his sexual inexperience....

She felt him remove himself from her, and he lay down beside her, grasping her around the waist. She began to feel self-conscious about her body again. Severus, however, didn’t seem to care; he was gazing at her as though nothing else in the world existed, and she gazed back at him, trying to comprehend how she could be so lucky.

They burrowed under the covers, still unclothed, and Lily wanted to sleep like that always, skin to skin with Severus’ arms locked around her possessively. When she awoke hours later, she found him watching her intently, as though he’d been awake for some time, and she felt a hunger such as she had never known overtake her, as she reached for him and made him gasp, and it started all over again....

* * * * *

Tuesday, 19 September, 1977

James crept through the corridors carefully, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. He was moving ahead of Remus and Peter and Sirius, a one-man advance guard, making sure their way was clear. When he’d seen Filch several times (how did the man get into the places he did so quickly? James had wondered more than once) he’d retreated and gone back to the others, changing their route. Remus was exhausted, being supported by Sirius while Peter trailed behind, and James wasn’t so certain they shouldn’t be taking him to Madam Pomfrey. He’d insisted, however, that he wanted to go up to his own bed.

He finally reached the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room without running into Filch again, and when he did, he froze, not expecting the sight before him....

The Fat Lady was slumbering in her portrait, snoring softly. Lily and Snape were standing before her, their arms around each other, kissing deeply. James felt an anger boil through him such as he had never felt before. You get your hands off her! he raged inside, feeling like sobbing and hexing Snape all at once. He tried not to see how intent Lily was on kissing him back; the idea of her being with him made him feel so odd and hollow inside. She doesn’t love you, he reminded himself for the millionth time. You’re like a brother to her. When they broke the kiss, she put her head on Snape’s chest, practically humming with contentment, and James both wanted to avert his eyes and gaze at her forever.

After they had been standing there like that for a minute, she raised her head and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“I--oh, Severus, last night was just...” She stopped, clearly at a loss for words, and James thought his head would explode. Noooo! he screamed inside. They didn’t! They couldn’t! She--him--

He stood watching them, unseen, his throat tight, trying not to think of them being together. I’m as bad as Sirius or Peter, he thought. Yearning after her, wanting her, when she doesn’t want me.

But trying to talk sense into himself was doing no good. He couldn’t take it any more. He whipped off the Invisibility Cloak and stood with his wand pointed at Snape, his face contorted in fury, his mind clouded by hate and rage.

“Get your hands off her.” He clenched his jaw shut again after he spoke, breathing through his nose. Lily’s eyes widened when she saw him.

“James! Stop that! Put your wand away!” she scolded him.

Lily removed her wand from her robes and pointed it at James, her arm shaking. How dare he? she thought. Just because I treat him like a brother doesn’t mean he really is my brother....

They heard footsteps then, and all three of them turned to see Sirius, Remus and Peter coming round the corner. Remus was clearly utterly exhausted, limping slightly, leaning on Sirius. Pettigrew brought up the rear, looking nervous.

“What’s going on?” Lily wanted to know. “Where have the four of you been all night?” Will I ever get a straight answer about this? she wondered.

James was incredulous. “What? You’re asking us that? When it’s obvious that you two...”

“But you do this all the time! And you never--you never talk to me about it--” her face started to crumple, and she swallowed, struggling now to stay in control. “I thought we were friends,” she said softly, directing this at James in particular. He squirmed, looked at his three other friends, then back at her.

“I can’t tell you Lily. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to know...”

Sirius looked defiant. “Anyway, shouldn’t he go climb back into his coffin?” he sneered at Snape. “The sun’s up.”

Snape moved forward and grabbed Sirius, shoved him up against the stone wall, his face a mere inch away from the other black-haired boy. “I’m tired of you, Black,” he hissed softly. “Watch your back.” Then he shook himself and stepped back from Sirius, still angry. He walked to Lily, put his arms around her and kissed her soundly, then glared at the others and strode away.

Lily watched him go, then turned away from the boys and ran after him. “Severus!” she called down the corridor, heedless of being discovered. “Severus!” She turned a corner and practically plowed into him. She grasped his arms to support herself, looking up at him intently.

“Help me,” she said softly.

“Anything,” he said to her, meaning it.

She panted, trying to catch her breath still. Then she finally lifted her eyes to his again.

“Help me find out their secret. Help me find out what they do and where they go on the nights of the full moon. Tonight. Promise me!”

He looked down at her, wondering why it mattered to her so much. He thought of the look on James Potter’s face when he’d taken off the Invisibility Cloak. What was she to Potter? He knew that Pettigrew had a crush on Lily and that Sirius Black had made a pass at her, and he was unsure about what Remus Lupin was to her, but he was fairly certain Lupin also cared a great deal about Lily. Could she be oblivious to all that? he wondered. Did she have no idea how she affected all of them?

“I promise, Lily,” he said quietly, kissing her on the brow. She watched him turn and stride away, her heart pounding in her chest. Soon I’ll know, she thought, trying to be comforted by the idea.

I’ll know.

* * * * *

The wan early light cast a misty glow over the objects in the third-year dorm. Bill Weasley rolled over in bed restlessly; he never slept well when the moon was full. The night seemed to be so full of howls....

There seemed to be a great scuffling in the stairwell leading up to the boys' dorms. Bill went to the door of the third-years' dorm and opened it a crack; he saw some black-robed figures on the landing, but could make out no faces in the small opening he had created. He didn't dare open it farther. Then, just as he was closing it, he heard a voice whisper the name, "Sirius." He might have imagined it; it was such a sibillant word, anyone whispering could be mistaken for saying it. At least, Bill might think that a plausible explanation if he didn't then hear Sirius Black's voice say, "Are you all right, Remus?"

Then he heard some more scuffling on the stone flags, and then the sound of the older boys continuing to climb the stairs. Bill opened the door cautiously when he was sure they were gone. He swallowed; Remus' friends had gone out with him under the full moon again. It felt strange being the only other person who knew about it. He hadn't told Charlie, either, although he had warned him that under no circumstances was he to leave Gryffindor Tower when the moon was full.

Bill heard a familiar noise just as he was about to go back into his dorm; the creak of the portrait hole opening. He crept down the stairs carefully, wondering who else had been out during the night. When he reached the bottom, he found Lily Evans crossing the common room to go to the stairs to the girls' dorms. He was so still as he stood in the doorway to the boys' stairs that she didn't take any notice of him.

Bill shrugged and went back up the stairs. He reckoned it made sense for Lily to know about Remus Lupin. He wondered briefly why she had come in by herself, instead of with the others, but as he climbed under the covers, this thought left his mind and he closed his eyes again, trying to get a few hours more sleep before breakfast. Now that the moon had set, he felt he could really sleep.

Sometimes he really wished he didn't know that Remus Lupin was a werewolf....

* * * * *