Music of the Night

"He advanced to the council-table:

And, 'Please your honors,' said he, 'I'm able,

By means of a secret charm, to draw

All creatures living beneath the sun,

That creep or swim or fly or run,

After me so as you never saw!

And I chiefly use my charm

On creatures that do people harm,

The mole and toad and newt and viper;

And people call me the Pied Piper.'"

- "The Pied Piper of Hamelin" - Robert Browning

Music of the Night

Chapter 9: By Going Against the Pack

Thick, gray clouds of thundering smoke dominated the sky, swirling and spinning across the vast, bleak, blackness. Pellets of water shot down purposefully like skillfully fired arrows, striking the earth as a boundless target, and the incessant shrieking of wind and storm streaming through wooden branches resounded into the bitter night air. Torrents of freezing rain jets attacked Hogwarts castle, bouncing ferociously off of the turrets and windows, flooding the inside of the great stone edifice with rippling echoes of the sounds of water smacking on glass.

This weather was simply glorious, Lily thought as she curled her legs underneath her. It provided an atmosphere of lazy wonder that was perfectly suited for warm blankets, fireplaces, and a few lengthy, engrossing books. When she had been younger, Lily used to love sitting on the ledge just below the big bay window in her living room and watch the little streams of water make jagged patterns on the glass, only to rush off in a moment of anxious frenzy to fall and join the other droplets that deluged the street. She could sit like that for hours with a book propped up in her lap and a mug of steaming hot chocolate in her hands, just reading and reading, occasionally looking up to stare out of the glass in front of her, dreaming of the places where the rain was formed.

Today had been one of those days. Lily had sat through three torturous N.E.W.T. classes, tormented by her insatiable urge to just skip her lessons and run madly to the Great Hall so she could lie flat on the floor and watch the illusionary rain nearly drown her. It was rare that she had these impulses, and she always found herself wondering and worrying whether they were typical to every other human being, hormone-induced, or some freak Cormagnus characteristic that she hadn't yet known about. And frankly, this uncertainty scared her a bit. So she tried to suppress these whims as best as she could and wait for a more opportune time to gaze idly out of a droplet-streaked window, namely...now.

But even with the weather the way it picturesquely was at the moment, she could not for the life of her sink deep into the cushions of the couch and even deeper in her book, because two people she generally called friends were making enough of a scene to make Lily consider dissolving all association with either one of them.

But only in a pretty, metaphorical kind of way.

Thalia was one of the culprits. Odd, sweet, and loving, Thalia was absolutely adored by Lily. What Lily did not adore, however, was Thalia's uncanny ability to attract the attention of everyone in the room when she wasn't even trying to and to overwhelm entire legions of teenagers when she was. It wasn't that Lily didn't admire Thalia's joyful sense of humor, but she thought that sometimes she was just a tad too loud.

The same went for Sirius Black. Yes, despite herself, Lily found that she had been growing steadily fonder of Sirius. When he didn't ensconce himself in front of a random, stationary object and stew for hours on end, he had a carefree aura of spontaneity surrounding him that was very refreshing. It had always been there, but with Lily's tacit vendetta against the two black-haired Marauders, she simply had refused to notice that either of them had any positive qualities to offer. Now that she wasn't trying so hard to distance herself from them, Lily admitted that they were both extremely likeable. James was charming, thoughtful, and almost righteously adamant regarding his convictions; Sirius was playful, witty, and altogether too suave for his good. And he knew that quite well, thank you very much.

Of course, Sirius Black was also incorrigibly loud, particularly at the moment, when he was playing the role of guinea pig in one of Thalia's Divination assignments. She was experimenting with phrenology, and the sights of her hands crudely pressed into his scalp and his distorted expressions of suppressed pain and laughter were a bit hard to ignore. Especially now that Sirius found himself unable to control his occasional swears and banters with Thalia.

"This is - argh- the stupidest form of Divination ever conceived by man," grunted Sirius irritably, as his head was suddenly jerked to the side. "What idiot 'figured out' that you could tell the future by mutilating my scalp?"

Thalia, wearing a chipper grin, didn't appear to be as disgruntled as her subject. "Well, it was either this or examining the entrails of sacrificial victims, so consider yourself lucky."

Sirius grimaced and Lily and James exchanged amused glances over their textbooks. Neither one of them, it seemed, was concentrating all that intently. "They make quite the duo, don't they?" mused James with a slight smirk.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Please. If they ever got together I would spend the free hours that I don't have groveling to any random deity I could think of to save the world from ultimate destruction."

A brilliant flash of lightning slashed across the sky and then a loud, ferocious rumble sounded in the distance. "Hmm," said James casually. "I think maybe they are causing Doomsday after all."

Lily threw a pillow at his head playfully, knocking his glasses askew. He adjusted them in a showily dignified manner, and chuckled as Sirius resumed his whining.

In a few minutes, after Sirius elicited one last yelp of surprise that made a group of nearby Third Years turn their heads, Thalia proclaimed herself finished. When the others waved her over to where they were sitting, she held up an index finger. "Hang on a minute. I have to calculate this out." She then hunched over her parchment, muttering random phrases that seemed to have no apparent connections to anyone other than herself, and buried herself behind her long sheet of false black hair.

Sirius gave his head a vigorous shake and moved to plop himself next to James. "Hey."

"Hey. It's nice to see you in one piece."

"Thanks. It's good to be in one piece." He gave a little sigh of contentment and leaned back into the couch. "Where's Remus gone to?"

"I think he's in the library with Pete."

Sirius nodded with a bit of disgust. "So studious those two." He gave a sharp glance at Lily. "And don't you dare say what you're thinking, Evans."

Even though he sounded dead serious, Lily could tell by the familiar twinkle in his eye that he was just joking, as usual. "And what might that be, Sirius?" she asked with a saccharine smile.

He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "That I should do well to follow their example and open a book for a change."

Lily smirked and looked back at her text. "You don't need me to tell you that, Sirius dear."

It was rather strange when she thought about it. Her conversations with Sirius followed the same conventions that they had for the past six years, only now they were carried out in a light manner. And the reason for that was James. What Sirius wasn't willing to do for himself or for Thalia, that being to try to give Lily another chance, he was willing to do for his best friend, and his loyalty and good-natured attitude towards most things earned enough of Lily's respect for her to be civil back. Civility had led to acquaintanceship, acquaintanceship had led to mildly entertaining exchanges, and that had led to their renewed banter, and the familiar yet entirely different semblance of friendship.

Sirius ignored her comment and leaned back on the couch. "So what you up to?" he asked James.

James leaned back as well. The two young men slouching next to each other made for a very amusing sight. "I was enjoying your girlish screams a moment ago, but since you've stopped that, I guess I'll have to come up with some other form of entertainment.

Sirius lazily punched his shoulder. "Quit it. I don't see you offering your head."

"That's because he's worried about 'messing up his hair,'" Lily quipped without looking up from her book.

James crossed his arms over his chest in mock indignation. "I'll have you know, Miss Evans, that my hair is a form of art." He jerked an index finger at his head pointedly and quirked the left corner of his mouth upward. "It takes talent, charm, and a flawlessly handsome face to pull this off."

"Yeah," she agreed. "That and an overly swelled head."

James stared back for a moment with his head tilted to the side. He wasn't laughing; he just seemed to be pondering something for a moment before he said quietly, "Well, you didn't offer either."

Lily felt uneasy for a moment at the way he was looking at her. She made a conscious effort not to squirm and let her gaze wander lazily over to Thalia, who was pouring over her parchment, trying to make sense of the knobs and bumps of Sirius's skull.

"Yes, well," she said softly. "With this hair, I doubt Thalia'd even be able to find my scalp, let alone tell me my future." Their gazes locked for a moment, and Sirius looked back and forth between them to attempt to discern what was going on. But not even Lily herself had the faintest idea.

An awkward silence followed, and then Sirius cleared his throat. "So," he said loudly as Lily distractedly picked up her book and flipped through it haphazardly, "how's it coming there, Thalia?"

Thalia looked up with a befuddled frown on her face. "Either my Divination skills need serious tuning, ...or you're going to turn into a red guppy."

Sirius and James glanced briefly at each other, and Lily could see that James, who was nearer to her, was clenching his jaw unnaturally hard to suppress his hysterics. But then Sirius burst out loud in raucous laughter, and James couldn't hold himself in anymore. Lily watched in amusement as the two teenagers took to banging their fists on the table in front of them. Thalia at first seemed unsure whether or not they were laughing at her or at her obviously highly skewed prediction. Then she decided it didn't really matter after all because any way you sliced it, the whole situation was just incredibly funny.

Thalia had a pleasantly high, infectious giggle, and soon the entire Common Room was alight with laughter. Even Lily allowed herself a modest smile; it was refreshing to break the tension and gloom of the headlines with some genuine levity. Two torches over the portrait hole were lithe nymphs dancing and twisting in joyous flame of victory, and for a moment, a transient sensation of peace flitted through her.

It was broken, however, when the portrait hole creaked open and Professor McGonagall stepped through, a grim expression on her face. The laughter fizzled, then died completely. Every pair of eyes was fixated on her, curious, troubled, and severely disconcerted.

The only times Lily had ever seen a professor enter Gryffindor Tower were in the direst of emergencies. On one occasion, in Lily's fourth year, a girl two years older than she had collapsed on the bathroom floor, and every other instance since had been related to a Death Eater attack of some sort. She shuddered as the fire nymphs faded back into the tremulous light of flame that had once seemed so full of life. So quickly could pleasure and mirth be extinguished by one foreboding thought, she thought disconsolately as Professor McGonagall made her way towards her seat.

The professor breathed heavily and then addressed Lily and James in a sharp voice that miserably failed to mask the worry etched into her face. "Miss Evans, Mr. Potter. Please follow me."

Lily felt herself get up mechanically and follow after her professor, James trailing behind them. She was only vaguely aware of the many pairs of eyes following them as they left the Common Room and the Fat Lady's portrait swung shut behind them with a sickening creak. Her legs seemed to move of their own accord, and she felt like an automaton, moving one foot forward, then the other. She wasn't walking at all; it felt as though she was being shuttled from one destination to another without any knowledge of it altogether. Every noise was sharpened, and she felt James moving swiftly beside her. She glanced up at his face. His jaw was clenched unnaturally forcefully; his hands hung stiffly at his sides in tight, rigid fists.

Before she knew it, the three of them were being raised up on the twisting staircase at the entrance to the office. She felt a sense of almost ironic trepidation. She knew that whether or not she stepped inside the dreaded room made no difference whatsoever; whatever had happened had happened, and the deed would still have been done regardless of whether or not she knew about it. Nevertheless, she was filled with anxious foreboding at the thought of learning the news. And hearing Dumbledore's voice pronounce the sentence would make whatever it was finite and unquestionably true.

Dumbledore was waiting for them when they entered the room. The soft light of a candle on his desk gave his face a wizened, luminary glow. It also accentuated the fine wrinkles around his mouth and the oddly sad yet defiant look in his eyes. "Please, come in." He waved his hand at three chairs situated in front of the wide wooden desk.

Lily sat down next to James. Professor McGonagall still looked a bit pale, but not as much as she had when she had first made her appearance in the Common Room. Whatever shock she had had was now dying down, and she was recovering her wits to be able to crisply relay the night's events to the Head Boy and Girl.

"I suppose you have some idea of why you are here," Dumbledore began, "and I will therefore say this as succinctly as possible, only explaining what is absolutely necessary for you to know at the moment." He paused briefly to look at Lily. She felt James give her right hand a light, reassuring squeeze.

"Aurors and Intelligence Officials have been reporting for some time about an army that the Dark Lord has been assembling. Of what nature or breed was undetermined, as he keeps his plans very well insulated. Even among the Death Eaters, few of his master schemes are public knowledge. Tonight, however, an act occurred that has confirmed some of our suspicions."

Lily slowly let loose a breath of air that she had been unconsciously holding in. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched James's face. His lips were drawn into a straight line, and his brows were furrowed over cloudy eyes. He pushed his glasses up his nose and sat straighter.

The portraits hung along the walls were silent as well. The men had removed their hats and looked gravely at Dumbledore. He stroked his beard. "There have been occurrences lately of a strange nature. You won't have read about them in the Prophet because the Ministry likes to make itself appear more on top of things than it actually is." He gave a slight cough and continued. "People mysteriously appear for days at a time, and then return without any explanation of their absences. At first, experts suspected that it was merely a case of minor amnesia induced by faulty potions, but after what happened last night, there is little doubt..."

His voice trailed off for a moment while the thunder crashed outside, clouds rolling and pushing for dominance of the skies, gray clashing with the blackness. Lily closed her eyes for a moment and let the echoes of the rumbles soothe her momentarily. When she opened her eyes, Dumbledore was looking straight at her.

"Beauxbatons was attacked tonight." Lily blinked a few times without drawing in the information completely. "A young girl was kidnapped," he continued, "by the name of Juliette Gerard. However, it is not the girl that seems to have been the target. Her father mysteriously vanished as well, much in the same way as the others had."

"What did they want?" asked James in a rush. He blinked once and then looked down at his hands.

"It's alright, Mr. Potter. Please feel free to ask any questions. You too, Miss Evans," he said with a light blue stare at Lily. " 'What did they want?' I suppose you have guessed by now that the 'they' are undoubtedly Death Eaters working for Lord Voldemort. And the general consensus is that they wanted information from Mr. Gerard. He trains trolls to be bodyguards for French Ministry officials. We, that is, the Aurors and my sources, believe that Miss Gerard was either used as bait to lure her father into a Death Eater trap, or that her father was forced into giving over information lest anything happen to his daughter.

"The trolls were to be used in the Dark Lord's army, a battalion not of armed wizards, but of ferocious, uncontrollable beasts and creatures." He stroked his beard thoughtfully once more. "The Dark Lord is very clever. He knows that men can be bribed or cajoled to follow a certain path, be it for or against his; creatures without the ability to think for themselves simply do as they are told without question. His assembly will be loyal and unfailing." He rubbed his eyes. "It will also be deadly if it is not discovered and destroyed."

"But Professor," James broke in once more. "If you don't mind me asking, why do we only know about this now? What about all of those other people who disappeared?"

Professor McGonagall answered this question. "There was no apparent connection between the disappearances until tonight. The belief is that usually, the Death Eaters would question their man and then perform a mild Memory Charm on him so that he would only seem to have had a memory lapse of a few days. Then business would go on as usual, and no one would be the wiser about what had happened.

"Apparently," she continued in a clipped and apathetic tone, "the Death Eaters made a tremendous blunder tonight by causing a scene. They were not supposed to be seen by as many students as had been present, and when a professor protested, one of the Death Eaters struck. A scrimmage then took place. A few were wounded and one student was killed. Too many had witnessed the occurrence, and especially with the damage that had been done to the castle itself, it was impossible to Modify the memories of the residents of the school."

Lily looked at her hands and fought the churning sensation in her stomach and the tingling feeling around her eyes. Don't cry...Please don't cry...You can't afford to now...Just hold it in...

"Mr. Gerard vanished about an hour later," Professor McGonagall went on. "This episode follows the same conventions that the others did. They are undoubtedly connected." She stopped speaking then, and when Lily glanced over, she could tell by the minor tremors of her professor's lower lip that the latter was trying her hardest to sound as business-like as usual while really damming up the emotions inside. Lily felt a strange, fleeting kinship for a moment, and then James spoke again.

"So what's the plan?" His voice was methodical, logical, and blunt, but his head was tilted to the side in a slightly contemplative position, and his jaw was still clenched.

Professor Dumbledore leaned his elbows on the desk in front of him and drummed his fingers idly together. "Ah, yes. That is where you two" - He looked at Lily and James each in turn - "come in."

"Beauxbatons is in a state of absolute chaos, as is understandable. The castle needs immediate repairs to fix the damage that has been done to the interior, and the administration has also arranged for the Security Charms on the grounds to be updated. Beauxbatons will become Unplottable to avoid another instance such as our present case."

Lily felt her gaze wander absentmindedly as the headmaster spoke. She took in every word, but she felt it too difficult to look into that aged face with out bursting into tears. Her eyes settled on the strange bird in the corner that she had always been rather fond of. The few times she had been in Dumbledore's office had always been enhanced by the scarlet-plumed phoenix. Dumbledore cleared his throat lightly and continued.

"The students of Beauxbatons need to be evacuated immediately now that the school is no longer safe. The headmasters of several schools throughout Europe have been notified of the emergency and have agreed to host some students until the crisis is resolved. The students and faculty members that we will be hosting will be arriving continuously throughout the day. Due to security reasons, a large group of underage wizards should not be traveling together, so they will come in shifts.

"I will be counting on you two to welcome them and to answer any questions."

"And," broke in Professor McGonagall, "you will also be expected to help arrange for the Beauxbatons students' housekeeping. The House Elves have been notified and extra beds will be made available in each house. You will also need to rewrite the schedules for certain events such as Hogsmeade visits, the Halloween Feast, and other similar activities."

She peered at the Head Boy and Girl over her square spectacles. They each nodded in understanding. James began to rise to leave.

"Before you go," interrupted Dumbledore with a palm raised, "I would like you to take a look at my Fawkes." James sat back down and turned his point of focus to the bird in the corner. Lily admired it as well. "Fawkes was reborn yesterday. In a fit of smoke and a burst of flame, he was gone, but moments later he arose from his own ashes." Lily bowed her head; beside her, James raised his even higher.

Dumbledore's pained expression softened momentarily, but then returned, more pathetic and determined than ever. "This is not over. The Dark Lord will continue to assemble his creatures. He will summon the vampires, the giants, even the werewolves." James's face suddenly snapped up, and his eyes were wide with realization. Lily didn't know what to make of it. Dumbledore seemed not to notice. "But we shall prevail. We will defeat this evil. Mark my words."

He paused, and Lily waited with baited breath. "I expect to see you up bright and early tomorrow morning. You two had best be off to get some sleep. Good night, Miss Evans. Mr. Potter." He made a small gesture to the doorway, and Lily felt herself rise from her seat and be ushered down the stairs by James.

As they walked along the shadowy passageways, Lily suddenly became acutely aware of the churning sensation inside of her stomach. Never in her wildest nightmares could she have imagined that Death Eaters would dare attack a wizarding academy with so little compassion. A student had been killed...Others wounded...An army of savage beasts uncontrollable by ordinary wizard...What kind of man would show such heartlessness for human lives? What twisted excuse for a human being would mercilessly devise a plan to virtually obliterate all decency among wizarding kind so that he might come to rule the Magical World?

What human would? Lily asked herself before she sighed and realized that Voldemort had long ago lost every ounce of humanity that he had ever possessed. A light crackling sounded as the hiss of rain splattering against the castle walls filled her ears. She felt a strange tingling in the backs of her eyes, and she felt her fingers begin to twitch uncontrollably, signaling that she needed to release her pent-up feelings as soon as possible.

"James?" When he didn't answer her for some moments, she turned her head and looked at her companion. His brows were furrowed and his eyes focused a few feet ahead of him on the stone ground; it appeared that he did not consciously know where he was going, but he was only moving in the direction of the Common Room because that was where his feet were taking him. He wore the thoughtful expression that signaled that he was having a lengthy inner debate. As far as Lily could tell, he seemed to be in this mindset more within the past few weeks than he had been in all of the seventeen years before that. A shadow briefly flitted across his face.

"James?"

"Hmm?"

"Well...Would you mind just walking me back to my room? I...I don't mean to make you go out of your way, but there's something I need to do there, and I'm a bit scared of the castle right now..."

He answered with a silent nod in the affirmative as he veered slightly to the left, signaling for Lily to follow him along a shorter route to their destination. Lily walked quickly to keep up with him, all the while mustering every ounce of her control to prevent her fingers from shaking too much and to keep her flood of emotion dammed up inside.

It seemed like forever before James stopped in his tracks a few feet from the entrance to Lily's room and cocked his head to the side with the out-of-place expression that she had been told she sometimes wore herself. "It's weird, you know? One day all you care about is pranking Slytherins and the next you have to draw up schedules to accommodate students who were sent to you because they were threatened by Death Eaters."

Lily didn't say anything; it didn't seem to be the appropriate thing to do. James was talking to the air, and it just so happened that the person to hear him was she. And if he wanted to vent, she would stand and just listen.

He brought his hand up to his head agitatedly and began pacing back and forth. "I always wanted the big boys to handle everything. 'Just do what you can do and let people more qualified deal with the important stuff,' I thought. Nothing I could do about anything, stuck in a castle, not even old enough to Apparate. So no use coming out of your bubble of innocence, right? Just say a few comforting words and everything will be better for you, right?"

Lily watched him with concentration as he paced three strides to the left, then turned and walked three to the right. He held his hands behind his back, and his eyes were growing wild.

"You know what, Lily? The bubble popped. Exploded right in front of my eyes without warning, and now I'm tangled up in this mess. And I can't blame Dumbledore for breaking it...I don't think I can even blame myself...It's Him, Lily. That sick, sadistic bastard who think he has a right to destroy everyone's lives just because he can. But let me tell you. I'm not about to just stand here and try to get back into my bubble, because the only way to beat that son-of-a-bitch is to fight fire with fire..."

He backed up against a wall and started trembling. His face was pale, and Lily could see a painful defiance etched in the lines of his face. "James?"

He glanced up and only seemed to just realize that she was standing there. He suddenly looked calmer, and his breathing slowed down. "We will defeat him, Lily. Our bubbles have burst, and we aren't blind anymore. I'm not blind anymore. I'm not going to sit and watch our world sink deeper and deeper when I can be doing something to stop it. And I think I was given this position for a reason..." He absentmindedly reached up to Lily's face and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I will fight, Lily." He gripped her shoulders for emphasis. "I will fight, or I will die trying."

And with those words, Lily suddenly felt a rush, an impulse, a need to embrace this embodiment of bravery and self-awareness. She felt cold and desperate, and she longed with every fiber of her being to grip this boy in front of her. She flung her arms around his shoulders and held him close to her, muzzled in his neck. She clung as though he was her lifeline, her savior, her only means of existence.

Then the feeling was suddenly gone, and she backed away awkwardly. James's head was tilted to the side in confusion, but he didn't ask what had happened. "Er...Good night, Lily. And thanks."

She felt a mild blush rise to her cheeks as she nodded and whispered her password to the statue of Orpheus. As the great stone fixture moved aside, she turned her head back slightly and said, "Good night, James." Then she stepped inside and closed the wall behind her.

She stood in place for a few moments and breathed heavily, leaning on the wall behind her, trying to process what had happened. The feeling she had experienced was so strange, so whimsical, and so unlike anything she had ever expected to encounter. But there was something else also, like a nagging at the back of her mind, trying to remind her of something she had to do. Then she remembered that she had come to her room to pour her soul into her piano. She took a step forward to the mahogany bench that gleamed in the torchlight, but then she paused and raised her palms in front of her face. Her fingers had stopped shaking, and with them had died that need for cathartic relief.

Puzzled and concerned about more things than one, Lily changed into a warm flannel nightgown and sat on her bed, gazing out of her window. The storm had died down, and through the fading rivulets streaming down the pane of glass, she could see the faint, fuzzy glowing of thousands of stars in the sky. She sat there gazing at the mysterious orbs and thought for quite some time, unable to sleep.

* * * * *

The next few days were a complete blur, even for Remus, who didn't have nearly as much to handle as some of the other individuals in the school. When he had awoken the next morning to find every professor wearing black robes and exceptionally grim expressions, it was very clear that something was wrong. Professor Dumbledore had risen from his seat and calmly explained the situation, urging his students to be cautious, but not to worry to excess. Everything was being taken care of.

As a Prefect, Remus was given some extra responsibilities, most of which entailed looking after rowdy First and Second Years whose teachers were too busy perfecting the Security Charms on the castle to attend classes. As such, barely anything in the academics department had been accomplished over the past few days. However, Dumbledore had announced new changes to the curriculum that would ensure that the few days' lack of work would be more than made up for. The most significant was the addition of extra Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons to all students Fifth Year and above. Its purpose was to train students at an early age to prepare for the horrors that would await them in a world outside of Hogwarts' shelter. "It will be to no one's benefit if we live in denial," Dumbledore had said gravely. "The world is changing, and swiftly. You are the future of wizardkind. You must acknowledge what lies hereon in. It is only if we make conscious and determined efforts to do everything in our power to defend ourselves that we may live to secure a safe and happy future for the generations to come."

Remus had noticed that although most looked as though they were in deep concentration, taking in everything the headmaster was saying, there were a few in the corner wearing rather smug expressions, namely, Alex Nott, Timothy Avery, and their clan of snickering minions. Of course, Bellatrix Black, although the leader of the group, was not betraying the slightest bit of emotion on her face. There was something strange and enigmatic about her, Remus thought. He had no doubts about her capability to delve deep into the minds of those she wanted to influence, but exactly how she did it while remaining so unnaturally stoical was a mystery to him.

But the Slytherins were the least of his worries at the moment. His day had been long and hard. He had, on fifteen different occasions, shown twenty different Beauxbatons students, none of whom spoke coherent English, around the castle. There was also babysitting the younger students, and he had also helped James organize inordinate amounts of paperwork, schedules, charts, and maps of the school. They had hunched over one of the tables in the library for three hours as James carefully read through every document that he and Lily had already written up over the past few days. Occasionally he would make a few corrections with his quill and then suck on the end of it thoughtfully with furrowed brows while he tried to come up with any possible way to make any of the stipulations of any of the files either clearer or easier to carry out.

By the time Remus had first arrived at the library to help James, the latter had already been trudging through the daunting stacks of parchment for two hours, and when Remus left, James was still sitting in the same chair he had been in all day, not slowing down or complaining in the slightest. One of the things Remus admired most about him was his steadfast determination. He only wondered where his source of adamancy came from.

Remus had opted to give James a hand against the suggestion of assisting Lily. It was true, Remus greatly admired her and knew that she had only the best intentions in mind, but she was, for lack of a better comparison, far too reminiscent of Professor McGonagall to be an enjoyable companion at the moment. She walked through the hallways with stiff lips and a straight back, clipboard in hand, directing traffic. When she spoke or gave instructions, her voice was clipped and methodical. She was doing a fabulous job, but Remus preferred to be in more student-like company.

So here he was, hours later, collapsed on the couch in the corner of the Common Room. He gave a weary sigh as Sirius and Peter joined him.

"Hey," said Peter as he leaned back onto the couch.

Remus grunted.

"Tough day?"

"You could say that."

Sirius plopped down energetically. "We just finished meeting some Beauxbatons students who'll be staying in Gryffindor," he told him as he grazed the unusually full Common Room with his eyes. "We were just going to see if Hagrid needed a hand with the pumpkins he's growing for Halloween. I take it you're too pooped out to come?"

Remus rubbed his eyes. "Well spotted." He let his hands fall limply into his lap. "Where's James? I left him the library nearly two hours ago and then went to watch a group of Hufflepuffs. He's not back yet?"

"Nah," said Sirius with a shrug. "Actually not a half bad Head Boy, he is."

Peter grinned. "Bet you're not completely thrilled with that, eh Padfoot?"

Sirius scratched his head. "I dunno. I mean, he isn't as gung-ho as he used to be about...I don't know...re-enacting the resurrection of Dracula in the middle of dinner - "

Remus let his eyes close and turned the corners of his lips slightly upwards. "Yeah. Good times, those were."

Sirius picked at the hem of his robes. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "He's doing a good job though...And we need someone like him now, you know?"

Remus widened his eyes for a moment and then relaxed his face into a weary, yet satisfied expression. Whatdya know? My boys are growing up...

Peter opened his mouth to respond but was stopped short by a sudden shout from across the Common Room. The three friends turned their heads to see a cluster of Fifth Years being towered by a dark-haired girl about half their size. "Like hell you were only joking! If you ever come near him again, lord, I swear I will hex you so fast you won't be able to tell the difference between your overly-swelled heads and the feet up your arses!" She angrily grabbed the hand of a younger boy and pulled him behind her as she exited the Common Room in a huff. The Portrait of the Fat Lady thudded with a menacing bang.

There was silence for a few moments as everyone registered what had just happened. Then Sirius stood up. "Well!" he said, breaking the sudden suspension of time with a tone of appraisal as he looked at the Portrait Hole. "That girl has some chutzpah!"

And Remus could tell from Sirius's satisfied stance and the gleam of admiration in his eye that that was a compliment of the highest order.

* * * * *

By the time the weekend rolled around, all of the students that had needed asylum were safe within Hogwarts' walls, and all matters that had previously been up in the air were settled as much as they could possibly be for the time being. Classes were now resuming, and Sirius wouldn't have minded all that much had it not been Saturday.

Such had been the topic of conversation for the last ten minutes on the way to class, as Remus was forced to listen to his friend Padfoot complain about the audacity of the administration to hold Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons over the weekend.

"Down right rude, if you ask me. As if we didn't have better things to do than listen to some new teacher babble on and on."

"What 'things' could you possibly have to do now that you didn't have time to do this week? You've had vacation for five days!"

"Yeah," growled Sirius as he wrinkled his nose in discontentment. "None of which were on weekends. Weekends are supposed to be fun and enjoyable, completely free of any serious work or thoughts to speak of. That is what a weekend is," he insisted emphatically, "and however many other lazy days we have over the course of the week doesn't take away Saturday's revered uniqueness."

Remus scratched the back of his head where the lining of his robes was tugging on his neck. He sighed. "Ah, Padfoot. I see now that you really do need this weekend."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Hm? Why's that?"

"Because you're starting to sound like Prongs."

Sirius snorted, feigning indignation. As Remus glanced sideways at his friend he could see faint hints of amusement and pensiveness.

"Hmm. I guess Prongs doesn't really think about things before he says them, heh? Because that one just came out."

Remus pushed open the door to the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and the pair stepped inside, adjusting to the glare that shone in from the tall prismatic windows at the far end of the opposite wall. "And that," said Remus with a knowledgeable air, "is why Prongs can get away with sounding halfway intelligent while you have light-years to go before you even come close."

"You're being particularly moody today."

Remus shrugged. "That time of the month."

Sirius laughed and plopped down at a desk at the far left side of the room, brushing a fairly long strand of hair out of his eyes. "Bet you're the only guy we know who's ever been able to say that."

Remus slid next to him and watched as a group of Sixth-Year Ravenclaws trooped in. "Well, I'm glad you find it funny."

Sirius shrugged offhandedly. "Hey. We both know that I don't want to be here. So just make the best out of a thoroughly rotten situation, right?" He gave an odd half-grin, and glanced at the door.

It was this levity with which Sirius approached the situation that calmed Remus down. He was always tense for the few days leading up to the full moon as his body adjusted to the transformation he would shortly undergo and his mind whirred and buzzed with worry and self-doubt. But then to see Sirius back in his element, nearly the way he was before the whole drama with his family, soothed Remus with the sudden hope that maybe things would turn out decently for a change.

Because there was no denying that things hadn't been completely chaotic lately, even by Hogwarts standards. Most people told him not to dwell on everything so much. "Just deal with the moment," Peter had told him more than once. "There are people a good deal more qualified to deal with the problems than we are. So let them deal. You can't save the world, Remus."

But what Remus hadn't told anyone was the main cause for his worry. He had been starting to have strange dreams...wild, frantic nightmares that flashed in an instant with a hazy blend of lurid shapes and colors, none of which Remus could identify. He knew he was having bizarre dreams; what he didn't know was how exactly he was so positive that those forms were nightmarish and chilling, almost beckoning him to go...somewhere. And maybe there was some kind of subliminal message or calling behind those images, locked deep inside the most secluded recesses of his brain...Maybe the nightmares would eventually penetrate his conscious mind and unleash the secrets within them to reveal horrors that he could never have imagined...Maybe they would slowly eat away at his conscience, corroding his sense of self, controlling his every thought, every intention, every motive, every action he had never meant to take...

And maybe there was really no significance at all and he was just worrying about problems that didn't exist.

Remus shook his head and looked again at Sirius, someone with undeniably real problems. And he seemed to be holding up okay, right?

Remus rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. It seemed like everyone was putting up a false front lately. He knew he certainly was, and every time he had seen James or Lily that past week they had seemed almost outside of themselves...taking charge when no one else dared, claiming responsibility and burdens for the acts they didn't necessarily need to take on...Or maybe they were the only ones in the whole damned school who were actually grounded. It was so hard to tell...

And speaking of James and Lily, they were nowhere to be seen. Remus nudged Sirius in the side. "Padfoot?"

"Eh?"

"Where is everyone?"

Sirius leaned back, balancing his chair on its two back legs. "Pete's just getting some last minute things together, I think. Mumbled something or other about someone he wanted to see...I don't know. And Prongs is with Lily again, doing something important." He gave a coarse bark. "If he wasn't such an idiot and if she wasn't such a prude, I'd say they're always busy snogging." He snorted.

Remus thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Never underestimate the young and horny."

Sirius raised his eyebrow. "Jeez, you really are out of it today."

"Yeah..."

Remus let the word suspend in the air for a moment before he noticed Peter out of the corner of his eye. Remus waved him over.

Peter looked a bit more awake than usual. His normally pale cheeks were tinged with red, and his step was lighter, not shuffling quite so much. "Hi...Just had to talk to someone about something. Sorry I'm a bit late."

He pulled out the chair directly in front of Remus and sat down on it backwards. "What's up?"

Remus shrugged. "Just waiting for everything to start I guess." He paused, waiting for the comment that Sirius was bound to insert, as he never passed up a cue to speak. It never came.

"Padfoot?"

Sirius's eyes were narrowed in distaste as he stared at the entrance to the classroom. In the doorway stood Bellatrix Black and Severus Snape, conversing in low tones while occasionally glancing in their direction. Snape directly stared at Peter for a moment, so quickly that Remus wasn't even sure that the glance had been real. But Peter certainly seemed to think it was, judging by the flush that passed over his cheeks.

He fidgeted slightly and then coughed and then glanced over Sirius's shoulder. His eyes widened before pointing with a lazy finger. "Say, Padfoot. Isn't that that girl from yesterday? The one who scared the wits out of the Fifth-Years?"

Sirius blinked and then turned around. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Wonder who she is," he thought aloud. "Can't be older than thirteen, no? And she's in this advanced class."

Peter shrugged, trying to make the motion seem casual, but failing to mask the effort. "So go ask her."

Sirius pounded his fist lightly on his desk. "Y'know? I think I will." And he stood up and began moving across the room.

Remus waited for Sirius to be out of earshot before speaking to Peter. "Thanks for that."

Peter nodded.

"And we'll talk about that little episode later," Remus added concernedly. Peter flushed again and looked at his hands. "Er, right. It's nothing really, it's just..."

"You don't need to rationalize to me, Pete. I just need to talk to you. Later." He gave a look that very clearly expressed that he meant what he had said, and then he went after Sirius.

When he reached him, Sirius acknowledged his presence and then cleared his throat. The girl turned her head slowly towards him and viewed him with an empty expression. Remus was immediately startled by her facial features; she had long, strait black hair pulled away from a tanned face, and her pale gray eyes seemed to be out of place in a face so dark. She wasn't necessarily pretty, but she had a certain air about her that would make someone turn to look again.

Sirius seemed unnerved for a moment, but then took hold of himself and grinned broadly as he extended a hand forward. "Hi. I'm Sirius Black."

She let her gaze drop to stare mutely at his outstretched palm and then raised her eyes to his face. "Camilla Clark," she said shortly. She paused for a moment as though she was deliberating what exactly she should do about Sirius's hand in front of her face, and then she shook it briefly.

Remus almost found the entire situation comical. Sirius wasn't used to such blasé receptions, especially from members of the opposite sex. Sirius had always had a certain effect on women, not necessarily in a romantic sort of way, but with an irresistibly humorous charm. Remus recalled that his own mother had been quite taken with Sirius the first time she met him. Called him a "perfectly delightful little boy."

And for this girl to betray absolutely no sign of recognition was unheard of, especially among the younger Hogwarts girls, who usually swooned when they so much as got a glimpse of Sirius's broad grin. This girl -- Camilla, her name was - looked far beyond indifferent. She looked highlybored, as though she had seen everything there was to see several times over.

But Sirius was never one to be deterred by a lousy first try. He ran his hand through his hair as Camilla looke back with that same patient, jaded expression. "You from Beauxbatons?"

"I just came from there, yes."

"Er...You don't sound French."

"I'm not French," she said bluntly. "I was raised in England. What?" Her last word was addressed to the small boy next to her, who had just prodded her in the back with an index finger. She muttered something in a language Remus couldn't understand. The boy nodded shyly and looked at the two older boys with wide, awe-stricken eyes.

"This is my brother, Michael," she said in that same flat tone. "Sirius and...What's your name?"

"Remus," he said warmly. "Remus Lupin." He held out his hand to the boy, who stared at it for a moment as though he couldn't believe it was real. Remus grinned. He remembered back to when he was a First Year and how much taller and wiser all of the older students had seemed. He imagined it was quite overwhelming and exciting for Michael to actually be approached by two Seventh Years.

It was easy to tell that the two new students were related. They both had that sleek black hair, dark skin, and faintly upturned nose. But while Camilla's eyes were that innocuous shade of gray, Michael's were dark, bright, and inquisitive, framed by long, almost feminine lashes. He smiled, revealing a deep dimple in each cheek. His face was perfectly angelic.

"How old are you?" Remus asked him.

"Eleven and a half," the boy replied shyly. "And Camilla's almost fourteen."

Sirius looked puzzled for a moment. "And you're both going to be in this class."

"Yes we're-" started Michael before his sister jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. It was the first sign of emotion that Remus had seen from her. "For now," she said briefly.

Sirius glanced at the door. "It was nice meeting you," he said distractedly. "If you need anything, just ask." Camilla just nodded and looked back blankly; Michael gave a timid little smile.

Remus jogged slightly to catch up to Sirius, who had just reached his seat. "So what do you think?"

"I like her. A bit taciturn, but I like her." He raised his eyes with surprise, grinned, and waved his hand. "Oy! Prongs!"

James and Lily had just rushed into the classroom, both breathing heavily. It looked as though they had just rushed from wherever it was that they were within two minutes; Lily was still holding a daunting stack of parchment, trying to balance it while maneuvering her way down the aisles. James picked up a little over half of the pile so she didn't have to carry quite as much, murmured something to her, and walked across the room to sit next to Peter.

"Hey, Prongs," Sirius started, "You'll never guess-"

"Not right now, Padfoot."

"What?"

"I'd love to talk, but that new teacher is going to walk in in about five seconds, and I'd rather keep all of my limbs nicely in tact."

Sirius looked slightly puzzled, but then the room grew silent as a tall man of about fifty years stormed inside. "Good call," Sirius muttered.

The man was clearly a very powerful wizard. He walked with that confident bearing that only comes with experience and the ability to adeptly wield acquired knowledge. But he also wore a no-nonsense expression that Remus seemed to think wasn't there just as an act.

The professor walked to his desk and plunked down a rather stuffed briefcase. He then strode up and down the length of the blackboard, making each step distinctly echo before placing his other foot forward. He stared around the room through intensely narrowed eyes, resting his gaze on some select few. Remus felt himself shiver a bit.

"My name," said the man in a strong, slightly accented voice, "is Julian Minos. However, none of you will call me that. To you I am 'Professor Minos.' Should I hear any skewed, disrespectful, or otherwise cheeky variation of those two words leaving your lips, I will be forced to stick you out of the window and dangle you by your shnoz."

A few students glanced at each other uneasily, unsure of what to say or how to respond.

Professor Minos resumed staring. "My goodness," he said with a straight face. "You are by far the driest bunch of teenagers I have ever encountered. I made a JOKE!"

No one moved an inch. James coughed, but it sounded a bit like a snicker.

The professor rounded on him. "You! Stand up."

James shot up from his seat as though he were made of elastic.

"What's your name?"

"James Potter, sir."

"Well, Potter, you were laughing. Do you find me funny?"

"Er..."

"Well?"

James shifted his weight nervously, but then threw his shoulders back and answered. "I think you have a very interesting sense of humor, sir."

"Do you now?" Professor Minos began pacing back and forth. "And suppose I told you that I thought I was side-splittingly funny. Would you find that you wouldn't be able to breathe due to fits of uncontrollable laughter if I so much as uttered a sentence?"

"I...I don't think so, sir."

"And why is that?"

"I've never been one to go into hysterics."

"Ah," Minos said softly. "I see." He then turned his focus to Peter. "You. Stand up. What's your name?"

"P-Peter Pettigrew," he sputtered.

"Well, Mr. Pettigrew. What about you? If I told you that I had never articulated a single humorous word in my life, what would you say to that?"

"I guess you'd only be about as funny as you think then, sir."

"And you wouldn't laugh, even if you found me funny?"

"I...I don't think so."

"And why is that?" He narrowed his eyebrows, and his expression held a mixture of curiosity and menace.

"Erm...You're rather frightening when you're not trying to be funny...Sir."

Some of the girls in the back giggled lightly.

"Hey!" barked the professor. "Settle down!" The laughter came to an abrupt halt. He turned to James and Peter. "You may sit down." Peter looked rather relieved.

"For the record," Minos said loudly. "I was trying to crack a joke. "And --" His face broke out into a broad smile that Remus thought looked awfully familiar - "I hardly find that I'm especially frightening. You can all breathe calmly now."

The students exchanged glances.

"Really! Relax! I promise not to bite."

The tension began to subside as the class's timidity turned into mild confusion.

"Now!" Minos exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "How does one go about becoming a villainous psychopath?" No one raised a hand.

"Alright then, let's try something else." He began pacing quickly back and forth. "If you wanted to be a dictator, what would you do? How would you get your potential subjects to follow you? What would you tell them?"

Lily raised her hand.

Minos pointed to her. "What's your name?"

"Lily Evans, Sir."

"Alright, Miss Evans. What do you think?"

Lily took a deep breath and did her best to ignore the growls from the Slytherins at the back. "Well, I've always found a sort of pattern in history. My father talks about it often...He's a history professor." She paused for a moment. "A dictator, a successful dictator, finds a way of catering to the masses. He finds the weaknesses, the loves, or the prejudices of the people and tells them exactly what they want to hear. He introduces ideas to make their dreams become realities, and even if those realities would involve torture, cruelty, or immorality, the people seem to disregard that because they're getting exactly what they want."

She stopped for a breath, looking as though she was unsure of whether or not to continue, but the professor's eyes were narrowed in concentration, and he nodded slightly, urging her to continue. She did, her voices steadily growing stronger.

"Eventually, the people begin to regard the dictator as much more than a head of government. He becomes omniscient and sacrosanct. The people will do whatever he tells them, because their loyalty to him blinds them to the consequences of their actions. They adopt his ideas and never stop to think for themselves whether or not what they are doing is right. And then if someone somewhere does decide to protest he can't for fear of his peers, who might even kill him if he says anything against the leader...And...They're all puppets, ferocious, brainwashed puppets. They...They abandon their ability to make their own choices, because all of their opinions are already spelled out before they get a chance to think."

Minos nodded. "Excellent. And can anyone tell me what happens to these subjects? Yes, Potter?"

James glanced at Lily and then brought his gaze back to the teacher. "They're giving up their choices...in essence...their humanity," he said softly. His face slipped into a glazed-over look of speculation for a moment; then he snapped out of his transient trance and stared resolutely back at the professor.

Remus looked at James thoughtfully as this was going on, trying to discern what was going on inside his friend's head. Granted, James had always been a bit...aberrant as far as teenagers went, but now the things he was saying were remarkably deep, and it sounded as though he hadn't been saying them just then for the first time.

Minos also stared at James for a moment with an odd expression on his face. "Yes...I think we have here some very interesting ideas. Of course, you all may be wondering why the hell we're speculating about the abstract while we're supposed to be learning defensive spells." He walked behind his desk, spun around, and planted his palms firmly on the wood. "Because in the long run, it doesn't matter a rat's arse how many curses you can deflect if you're going to be joining the ones who cast them."

He waved his hand carelessly behind his head, and a piece of chalk rose up from where it had been lying on the desk to scrawl out the names of several intimidating sounding reference books on the board.

"Mr. Potter used a very interesting word - humanity. A very intriguing term, hmm?" He glanced around the room, but no one did anything save stare back in befuddled amazement. Remus chanced a look behind him and saw that Camilla Clark didn't even look remotely interested. In fact, despite the fact that this was one of the most unconventional classes Remus had ever attended, the girl still insisted on looking flat-out bored, as though she had heard and done everything before.

"So how do you fight something with barely an ounce of humanity left to speak of? How do you ensure that you won't chuck away your own ability to think, feel, and act of your own volition?" He leaned forward, eyes gleaming almost manically. "You fight by being yourselves. You fight by going against the pack, by making your own choices and standing by your morals and ideals. If those morals and ideals happen to be to follow the Dark Lord..." He held up his palms. "Then I have no right to tell you otherwise, and you're probably better off returning to Professor Spright's class, because I'm not going to lecture about how to resist an intrinsic part of your character." His eyes fluttered toward the back of the room.

"For the rest of you...How do you discover your true character? How can you pave a pathway to your deepest desires and dreams, your innermost feelings and thoughts?" He stood up. "Well?" No one raised a hand.

Minos resumed pacing again, strolling casually back and forth. His body had the stance of one with explosive energy, but with the ability to carry it off in a lazy, off-hand manner, as though he wasn't straining to compose himself in any way, but just took his strength for granted because he had no reason to think otherwise.

He sunk his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the blackboard. "Can no one think of anything? Any manifestation of the unique, intrinsic qualities in a witch or wizard?"

Sirius raised his hand, much to Remus's surprise. It wasn't that Sirius didn't pay attention, as he was quite brilliant, but he generally saved his comments for the quick spit-back type of questions, leaving the more intellectually draining ones for his classmates to tackle.

Minos pointed to him. "Your name?"

"Sirius Black." Remus nudged him. "Sir."

"Mr. Black?"

"Were you talking about an Animagus? Because it's said that the animal form chooses the witch or wizard...because they have similar characteristics." Sirius raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Remus became impressed despite himself.

"Yes, Mr. Black," Minos responded with that same poised air. "That's actually the exact example I was thinking of. Now naturally, I'm not expecting you to all become Animagi overnight, seeing as the procedure is highly complex, not to mention illegal for witches and wizards of your age, -" Thankfully, Sirius kept his face innocently blank - "but there is, however, a certain incantation that may be learned that will allow the caster to view his or her Animagus form. Your assignment will be as follows." He paused to allow for the immediate scurry to find spare pieces of parchment.

"Do research regarding this spell, known as Apparecium Animus. Each should perform the spell on him or her self, but beware that it will be slightly painful, perhaps more so for some than others. You shall then consider certain traits of your respective Animagus forms, and try to discern elements of your own characters based on your findings. Be realistic, using what you already know about yourselves as a guideline, but be open to the possibilities that you may not know yourselves as thoroughly as you might have previously thought. Any questions?"

A blond-haired Hufflepuff raised his hand. "How painful is 'slightly painful,' Sir?"

Minos answered with a sly look in his eye. "That too is part of your experiment. See how much pain you experience, what type of ache, and attempt to figure out what that tells you about yourselves. I assure you that every part of this assignment serves one purpose and one alone."

He raised his eyebrows. "Good? Good. Class dismissed."

Remus looked at his watch in surprise. There was still an hour remaining left to the allotted time for the class. He shrugged. It was Saturday after all.

He watched as other students began filing out of the room, most looking rather astonished at what they had just experienced. Bellatrix Black, of course, was as stolid as ever, and she gracefully exited the room without so much as a glance in the professor's direction. Remus narrowed his eyes; he caught Peter shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I'll see you two at dinner," he said as stood up. "You coming, Pete?"

Peter avoided looking him in the eye. "Er...yeah. Yeah, I'm coming. Dinner. See you at dinner."

Remus waited until they were far from the classroom, as well as from any prying ears, until he spoke. "So...You going to tell me what that was about back there with Snape and Bellatrix Black?"

Peter stuck his hands in his pocket and walked quickly, making his shuffling even more pronounced than usual. "It's...It's nothing really. I just heard her talking...She speaks really well, you know...So I stopped to listen." He shrugged, trying to be casual but only succeeding in looking nervous. "It wasn't anything important she was talking about, but something about the sound of her voice just....I dunno...pulled me in somehow. You know?"

Remus nodded thoughtfully, eyes still narrowed. "She saw you? You were talking to her before?"

Peter scratched the back of his head. "Well, yeah. A-a little. Didn't really say much, but she gave me this look, and..." He breathed heavily. "I..."

Remus stopped at the end of the hallway and turned sharply to Peter. "Tell me. What is it?"

Peter fidgeted with the hem of his robes. "It's just...Well, you heard Minos. 'They'll draw you in,' he says. 'They'll take over your head.' And when he asked me if I would keep quiet if he wanted me to, I said yes. But I'm not really like that, am I? I wouldn't give up everything I am to serve someone else, would I?" He raised his eyes and locked gazes with Remus. His expression was soulful, imploring, and utterly pathetic.

Remus let his eyes wander to the square window cut deep into the wall of the corridor. He watched an orange leaf tremor on an otherwise naked branch, only to be defeated by a gust of wind as it fell downward, spiraling to the earth. It fell just in front of a small black rat that then shot into the Forest.

He let his hands play along the windowsill. "No," he said slowly. "I guess that once you're aware of what could happen, you're more on your guard. You definitely have personality, Pete. You've just got to hold onto it." He glanced at Peter's worried profile. "As for Minos's class, I wouldn't worry about not answering the right way. Laughing at a professor's jokes is one thing..." He didn't finish his sentence. He felt it was self-explanatory.

Peter jerked his head down once. "Yeah... Right. Thanks, Moony. You coming to dinner?"

"You go on. I'll just be a minute."

As Peter walked off toward the Great Hall, Remus leaned back against the wall, deep in thought. It was just as he had said. Catering to a teacher's whims was much different than following the cruelest and foulest creature that ever lived right?

And he narrowed his eyes wryly as he said to himself that he had no doubts that if the Dark Lord were to tell him to jump he would ask "How high?" The question was...If he would be told to murder innocent Muggles, would he say "How many?"

* * * * *

That evening was brisk and clear, alive with a sky bright with streaks of molten orange and scarlet. The air was refreshingly chilly, and James Potter was reveling in the moment.

There was something uniquely wonderful about being up their on a broom away from the entire world. Soaring amidst the sun's sinking rays held an aura of serenity, excitement, and freedom rolled all into one. It was just being alive. Just being James.

He sighed with contentment as he swiveled around in a great, sweeping spiral, plummeting downward. A slim black-robed figure was ambling down to the Quidditch Pitch; James touched down lightly to see who it was.

It was Lily, walking with her hands stuffed tightly in her pockets and thin shoulders trembling from the cold. "Hey."

"Hey." James leaned his broomstick against his shoulder and brought his free hand up to his hair to try to flatten it out. "What's up?"

Lily shrugged. "I needed to get out for a bit. Fancied a nice look at a sunset." She tilted her head slightly to the side.

James smiled and gestured to the blazing fireball that was the sun. "Yeah, beautiful, isn't it?" He glanced at her. "Care to have some company?"

She grinned. "I suppose it would be rude to say no, hmm?"

James shrugged jokingly. "By whose standards?"

Lily didn't answer, just turned the left corner of her mouth slightly upward and sat down on the cool grass, hugging her knees into her chest. James sat down next to her.

"There's something spectacular about watching a sunset when you're actually underneath it all, isn't there?" she said wistfully.

James nodded and then stretched out the full length of his body on the ground. "Absolutely. Best feeling in the world. Especially when you're in the air with the sun."

Lily shivered slightly, glanced at James lying on the grass as if debating whether or not to join him, and then decided in the affirmative. She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head and leaned back onto the ground. "Not that I'd know. I'm terrified of heights."

"Well, that's no fun."

She gave a small self-deprecatory shrug. "I like keeping my limbs in tact."

James laughed. "I'll get you up there yet, Lily Evans. And I'll have you down in one piece."

She gave a skeptical but amused glance in his direction and then pursed her lips in contemplation for a few moments. She turned her head away from him to face the sky. "I...er...I actually kind of hoped I'd find you out here."

James raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Her eyes didn't leave the skies as she spoke. "I never really got to thank you for all your support, especially this week."

"What do you mean?"

"With everything going on at the castle, abroad, in the Ministry..." She sighed. "It was a little bit hard, you know? Coming out of a world where I was slightly off-center into a new one where everything was strange and new. And people looked at me differently because I was the odd, gangly girl who dropped in on the middle of their parade when she seemed to have no business doing so. And now with all of the murders..." She shifted slightly. "Well, not many would be comfortably taking orders from a Muggle-born, much less work alongside one. But you never seemed to let it bother you, and you manage to make all of the Prefects maintain some sort of degree of respect. So...thank you."

James widened his eyes for a moment and then shrugged, trying to feign an air of nonchalance, but in actuality being quite surprised. Lily had never struck him as the type to be remotely insecure about any aspect of her personality, much less her status as a Muggle-born. And yet, a part of him knew that it was useless being surprised wherever Lily Evans was concerned, because he had come to expect the unconventional and the subtle. The girl had more layers than an onion and more facets than a finely cut gem, sometimes giving her a disposition laden with causticity, other times with unadulterated elegance. This was the first true glimpse of vulnerability. James liked it. It made her more tangible, less idealistic.

"No problem," he said. "I just never thought that it was an issue. I mean, to me you were never really a Muggle-born. You were always 'Lily Evans, insufferable wench.'"

"Aw, thanks, James," she drawled sarcastically. "I am positively overcome with sappy joy. And the feeling is definitely mutual."

He laughed at the way she always made herself sound solemn when she was being anything but. "No, but seriously. I've always found Muggles highly fascinating."

She quirked up an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I dunno. I guess I've always thought that they're just brilliant, able to do all of the things that they do without magic. You know Bill and Charley Weasley?"

"Sorry, no."

"Second and First Years. Respectively. Anyway, Bill told me that his dad is positively obsessed with anything and everything Muggle. He even has a collection of plugs."

Lily snorted, but then stopped herself as though she didn't mean to. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." He scratched his head in amusement. "I could see why though. I've always been fascinated by Muggle science and the way they use logic to formulate theories about the world around them."

"I used to also, but then I came here and..." She laughed wryly. "Let's just say that magic defies about every known law of science there is."

"Still doesn't make it any less interesting than it is."

She wrinkled her nose. "For you, maybe. I've never really been one for the sciences. My father always made me read textbooks about chemistry and physics though." She tilted her head. "He wanted me to go to Oxford. Still wants me to go to Oxford, as a matter of fact. I don't think he quite understands that my occupation will be within the magical community." She paused, letting the reflections of the coppery swirls in the sky dance in her eyes. "I think I have some of the books that my father snuck into my trunk when I wasn't looking. You could borrow them if you'd like."

James widened his eyes with excitement. "Really."

"Of course."

"Thanks!" he said brightly. She nodded modestly in acceptance. It never failed to marvel him how she could carry out entire conversations without even expressing any remote desire to look at him in the face just once.

"So," he started, "what's your family like anyway?"

"Why the sudden interest?"

He shrugged. "I can't remember the last time we had a personal conversation, completely devoid of any mention of Head duties or intense morbidity.

"That's because I don't think we've ever had one."

"Well."

"Well."

He raised his eyebrows with a connotation of challenge; she seemed to find the topic completely normal, so she shrugged and began to speak.

"My mum's probably the most thoughtful person you'd ever meet. She always considers every possibly outcome to every possibly situation to make sure that no one gets hurts in any way. Of course, that means that she's overly cautious as well." She smiled wryly. "My dad jokes that she plans for disasters that don't occur. And even after a disaster has been averted, she plans what she would have done had she not been able to get herself out of it. And my father finds it endearing even though he's the complete opposite. The paradigmal eccentric, he is, full of odd little quirks." She shivered slightly as a breeze rushed past, temporarily tussling her curls.

"You cold, Lily?"

She tried to smile through chattering teeth. "A bit."

"Want my cloak?"

"That's okay. Then you'll get cold."

James held up a palm. "Do not worry about James," he said in a mockingly serious tone before he banged on his chest with a fist. "Me heap big man with heap big meat on bones."

"And heap big ego." She grinned. "Then I'll take that cloak, Sir Boast-a-lot."

He chose to decline retaliation, tossed his cloak in her direction, and leaned back on his palms, enjoying the sensation of having his hair whipped around his face as the sky played a dazzling symphony of lights, sparks, and closure above him. "Your father's eccentricities. Continue."

She pulled the cloak more tightly around her. "Well, just to give you one example...He, er, wears a bathrobe to the dinner table."

"Oh, like a dressing gown?" asked James casually, not finding anything particularly strange about wearing a bathrobe at a meal. He did live with Sirius, after all.

"Not exactly. More like a smoking jacket. He comes home, throws on the bathrobe over the suit and tie he wore that day to work, and sits down to eat." She wrinkled her nose. "It's a disgusting bathrobe that he's had since before I was born. It has meat sauce stains on it from about three years ago." She shrugged. "I think he's trying to live unfulfilled fantasies of grandeur by pretending to be elegant enough to wear a smoking jacket even though he's never smoked a day in his life. My mum just says it's something he did once as a teenager to annoy his mother, and he hasn't grown up since."

She glanced for a moment in his direction. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Satisfied?"

James scratched his head. "Don't you have a sister? Patricia, or something."

"Petunia," Lily said darkly, "and she isn't particularly pleasant company."

James didn't say anything, but figured that if she wanted to continue, she would. Her tongue seemed to be on a rampage that evening; he had never heard her speak so fluidly about her personal life.

She squinted a bit. "Petunia likes everything to be incredibly...normal. She was always the conventional teenager, and she always regarded me as some sort of freak." She shrugged. "I guess in the long run I did turn out to be a bit of a freak, by her standards anyway. I just find it interesting what those standards are."

James furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

Her eyebrows curved in intensity and James watched as her long lashes blinked slowly, casting fleeting shadows beneath her eyes. "It wasn't just about the magic. Of course, it didn't help once it came out that there was a supernatural reason behind all of the things I accidentally did, but it was more an issue of personality clash. She spent the weekends gossiping with her friends; I'd strum my guitar in the backyard or read a book. She'd divulge her every opinion for the whole world to know; I always kept to myself. We're just different people, that's all."

James was silent for a few moments, unsure of whether or not to expand upon the topic further. But curiosity outweighed caution. "Does it...bother you?"

She tilted her head slightly, and James found himself idly staring at the sleek angles of her pensive profile. "No..." she drew out, "not exactly. Maybe it's just the lack of a sisterly relationship. It's like I have a sister, but she's just out of my reach. Half a sister." She pulled her cloak around her more tightly, a black cocoon enveloping a narrow branch of ivory and bronze. "I don't hate her though. No. I definitely don't hate her."

James took a sharp intake of breath. "Do you ever get angry?"

She blinked slowly, and from the expression on her face, it looked as though she had played his question over many times in her mind. "I don't think she's worth the anger."

James didn't answer. He didn't feel that it was necessary. There was something about talking to Lily that didn't require a conversation to be carried out on both ends. It was almost as though the silence that would pass between them filled in the empty breakages in their speech...It felt natural, as though words and thoughts were melded into one.

He felt something strange pass through his midsection, and he attributed it to his lack of cloak. He lifted his face upward and closed his eyes as a breeze tousled his hair and stung his face. It was wonderful.

Lily moved after a few minutes to look at her watch. "Ah...I really should be getting back." She pulled herself up gracefully and looked down at him. "You coming?"

He temporarily lost all ability to formulate coherent thoughts as he watched the sunlight catch her coppery strands, creating a faint, glow about her crown like a halo. She stood with her small, narrow shoulders pulled back in a commanding, yet relaxed manner, as though she was aware of her capabilities and perfectly comfortable in the body that would perform them. Her stance held the poise and power of a duchess with the beauty and fragility of a long-stemmed rose. James felt his breath hitch in his chest.

She cocked her head to the side. "James?"

"I-I'm fine," he said in a voice much higher than he had remembered using in a while. "I'll, er, just be a minute. You go on."

She frowned. "Okay." She turned to go and walked back toward the castle, glancing behind her twice in puzzlement as she did so.

When she was gone, he turned up the sky, making out the faint pinpricks just becoming visible in the indigo sky. They seemed to be laughing at him.

And then it hit him like a ton of lead bricks as he become cognizant of a daunting, unavoidable, unquestionable fact. James Potter fancied Lily Evans. Again.

Damn.