As she pushed down the hood of her cloak slowly, cool wind tickled her face and the mysterious feeling of that night, in particular, made the hair on the back of her neck rise. The cloudy night blended well with her dark chocolate tresses, but her sickly pale complexion did nothing to camouflage her from belligerent visitors.

Sighing slightly, this mysterious brunette took herself into the pub. She had been here for exactly three minutes now and he was now exactly three minutes late for their monthly meeting. Taking a seat at a barstool quietly, she tried to remain as unobtrusive to the other people in their as possible, hoping to meld into the background of the dingy walls.

"Hello, miss. He told me he'd be a few minutes late this evening, as there was a bit of disturbance before he was allowed to depart." The bartender told her as he walked over, and she immediately understood.

"Yes, thank you Aberforth."

"And, you two will be meeting in our backroom."

"Back there? Yes, yes, thank you." Making her way back to the room, she felt herself being examined by a couple of wizards around the room, all by themselves enjoying a jug of Firewhiskey each.

"Ah, Miss Prewett. How lovely to see you." A man called out to her as she entered; he was older, almost the oldest person she had ever seen, but he, the Professor, still carried the same aura of wit she always known.

"Professor Dumbledore, good evening. How is your pet doxon?" She greeted, then questioned, taking the seat opposite of him at the little, ancient looking table.

"He'll be dead within the reopening of light." And so it was the real Albus Dumbledore and Diaphrephon Prewett.

"Lovely; I collected two . . ."

"Dia, I think we should have a chat before you start into your reports."

"Oh?" Surprise feigned itself into her eyes as Dumbledore opened his mouth.

"Yes but I shall make this simple;" He paused, glancing about the makeshift meeting room, "the Order of the Phoenix would like to see you come back to England. Immediately." There was silence between the two. She guarded her thoughts, and didn't reveal any within her facial features.

"Is there a problem?" She inquired coolly. That twinkle in his eyes that had never won Dia over appraised her, and he nodded as if settling his own suspicions.

"The Potters may be in trouble." He stated simply, glad to finally see some emotion as her hazel orbs became hinted with fear.

"Lily and James? What sort of trouble?" A long silence was suspended in the air as she paused, glancing at her hands nervously, filled with a sudden nervous energy. "I can be back tomorrow, and I guess I could stop by Mafalda Hopkirk's apartment . . . does she still live in London?" She inquired, and he smiled gently.

"No, Miss Hopkirk now helps guard the castle. She lives quite close to here, and I would be happy to show you the way after your . . ."

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"The Order of the Phoenix is under the impression I'm dead."

"That will prove to be difficult; Miss Hopkirk and Mr. Black . . ."

"Sirius and May are still together?"

"Yes; the two seem to be thriving, but if your next question is if they are to be married, I have no idea as I do not have much time for gossip these days. Mrs. Potter will know, though."

"Mrs. Potter . . . . I've never thought of her quite like that. Professor, what's wrong with James and Lily?"

"Lord Voldemort is coming after them, from what my sources tell me."

"Why can't you just pretend, like me, that both died . . .?"

"Because neither wants to run," An uncomfortable silence ensued as Dia shifted in her seat awkwardly because of his charge.

"I was never as brave as any of my friends, Professor. . ."

"I am not punishing you for your cowardice," He spoke coolly, evaluating her once again as she rolled her heavily lined hazel eyes. "I am asking for a favor, should you accept," Dia snorted lightly, as she saw she had little choice in the matter, "to do something for someone who has been there for you always. Two people, actually."

"No one will understand." She stopped, biting her tongue as memories flooded her brain; Lily, May, and Dia giggling during Transfiguration, playing paper Quidditch in the library with former beau Remus Lupin, chasing her cousin, James, with a snowball aimed and ready, and so many others. "I . . . I . . ."

"Maybe this time you will be able to prove yourself as you have always desired."

She thought this over, brushing her thick, tangled brown hair out of her eyes as she studied the grooves in the table. Hesitantly, she nodded, looking up back to those blue eyes, penetrating her thoughts as she agreed. Why had Albus Dumbledore never taken the chance to trust her?

Unfortunately a gloomy voice in the back of her head woke up and slyly responded, "Possibly because to trust you would be foolish."

And a picture of a wrecked Remus Lupin broke into her mind, that look on his face as he observed her casket, empty except for photographs and relics, because she had been standing across from him, still alive, yet hiding.

He was the reason she didn't want to go back, because some things could never be forgiven. And feigning death most definitely is one of them.

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Alors . . .

This is an edit: Dia Prewett's story is still a mystery.

Here's a few facts that might not be coming in future chapters: 1. Dia and James are cousins through their mother's, who are both dead 2. Remus and Dia were living together when she was "killed" 3. This is an AU, because I don't want L&J to die.

R&R. and no, not rest and relaxation.

Happy Christmas, Grace.