The peace lasted only a few days. The following Sunday, Weylin Nott arrived in the hospital wing with the results of two different jinxes, and refused to say who had cast them.

"We have to stop this!" Farah said to Albus, as they met outside the library.

He didn't have to ask what she was talking about.

"I know. But how? We don't even know who it was. It could have been anyone – the Notts aren't that popular any more, even inside Slytherin. A lot of people think they overstepped a line when they attacked Hogwarts students. Even the rest of the League turned against them. Anyone could have targeted him."

Farah frowned. "We could ask Scorpius."

Albus looked quizzically at her. "I seriously don't think it was him." He couldn't think of anyone less likely to jinx a third-year than Scorpius Malfoy, who was a prefect, tended to be quiet, and was, in Al's opinion, quite a decent guy, whatever bad blood had gone down between Malfoy and James.

Farah rolled her eyes. "Of course it wasn't him. I'm not stupid. I mean, we could see what he thinks. What the mood's like in Slytherin, whether any of them know anything, that sort of thing. He'd want to help – he's never been into the house rivalry either." She left unspoken the fact that not all the prefects – of any house – would feel the same. Being a prefect didn't necessarily make someone a neutral party.

Albus considered this. "It's worth asking," he acknowledged. "But go carefully. I mean, remember that Nott's parents tried to frame Malfoy's mother for that Imperius Curse last year. He's not into house rivalry, but he does have plenty of reasons not to like the Notts."

"Well, I'll be tactful," she agreed. "But I still think he'll be up for helping. He's not the kind of person to hate people because of their relatives. If he was, he'd have plenty of reasons to hate you as well, and you've always seemed to get on okay."

Albus laughed. "True. Though I'm not sure Jamie's stupid pranks are quite on the same level as trying to get his mum sent to prison."

Thinking of James and Malfoy in the same sentence had reminded him of that stupid letter, though, and he sighed.

Farah tilted an eyebrow at him. "What's the matter?"

Albus looked at her, and for a moment hesitated on the point of telling her. He counted Farah as a good friend; they had been friends ever since they'd been made prefects in their fifth year, and he'd been very pleased when he'd heard who had been made Head Girl. They'd never really had the sort of friendship where they confided in each other, but he felt fairly sure he could trust her. But no. It wasn't his secret, was it? Anyway, it wasn't anything he needed help with; it was just irritating.

"Nothing," he said. "But if you don't mind, I'll let you talk to Malfoy. I'm pretty sure he's been avoiding having to talk to me, so it'd be a bit awkward."

"Why?" She frowned. "I mean, that's fine, but you just agreed that you get on okay with him – why would he be avoiding talking to you? Is it because of your brother? Or – oh! Did your dad have to investigate his mum?"

"Well, I think he did, yeah," Albus said. "Though he didn't tell us anything about it. It might be that, I suppose, but I doubt it." He sighed. "I think it's a lot more to do with Lily."

"Lily?" He watched Farah's face go from puzzlement to sudden realisation. "Oh! Of course – I forgot. All those rumours about them last year. But it was just rumours, wasn't it?" She gave him a stern look. "You didn't go and talk to him about them, did you?"

"Merlin, no!" Al shook his head. "I leave the heavy-handed nineteenth-century guardian act to Jamie. I don't care what Lily does so long as she's okay. Anyway, it was just rumours. Lily said there was nothing going on, and she's shit at lying, so I believe her. But they did pretty much go round the whole school – I'd feel awkward about it if I was Malfoy."

Farah rolled her eyes. "Well, the whole thing sounds ridiculous to me. I haven't noticed Lily being all embarrassed about it."

Albus grinned. "Yeah, well. Lily's not easily embarrassed. It did get to her though. You should have heard her laying into James when he tried to get involved."

"I can't imagine Lily laying into anyone." Farah laughed. "But from the sound of it, he deserved it."

"He usually does," Albus agreed.

"Well, I'd have thought you and Lily would be taking deep breaths of relief now he's not here any more," Farah said. "He can't interfere in anything now."

"This is James we're talking about," said Al with a sigh. "Of course he can."

Lucy cornered Padraig Finnegan before dinner, and demanded to know whether he – or anyone else they were friends with – had had anything to do with the jinxing of Weylin Nott.

"No!" Padraig scowled at her. "Just because we got in a fight once doesn't mean it's always us. I don't know who it was."

Lucy looked hard at him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. I was just checking."

"Luce, I don't go round hexing people just for the fun of it. They started it last time. And anyway, Nott didn't even do anything, just stood there and watched. Why would I pick on him?"

"Well, a lot of people don't like him much," Lucy said quietly. "Everyone knows what his parents did."

"Well, I didn't hex him," Padraig said impatiently. "Nor did Artemis. And we're not going to, so stop making a fuss about it."

Lucy said no more, but she was very quiet and thoughtful all the way through dinner, and the following morning appeared at breakfast with a pleased expression that suggested she knew something other people didn't.

"I've just got an idea," was all she would say when her friends asked her.

Her first lesson was Arithmancy, which none of Lucy's close friends took. There were a number of other Hufflepuffs, with whom she was vaguely friendly, but instead of going to sit with them, Lucy made for the back corner of the classroom. She had a plan, and nothing was going to deter her from it.

The back desk was occupied by none other than Weylin Nott, sitting with his friend, Titus Hart. In front of them was an empty desk, and Lucy dropped her bag beside it. Hart looked up and frowned.

"What are you doing, Weasley?" he demanded.

"I'm sitting here," Lucy said cheerfully, and proceeded to do just that, ignoring their puzzled expressions. "The seat's not taken, is it?" Without waiting for a reply, she leaned down and pulled a handful of her drama club flyers out of her bag. "I wanted to give you guys these." She tilted her chair back and slid one across the desk to Hart.

Hart scowled. "What the hell?"

"It's information about the new drama club," Lucy went on, as if she'd been asked a polite question. However, she watched their faces intently. Nott, she noticed, still had the remains of what looked like a strangely lime-green bruise above his left eye.

"Why would we want these?" Hart asked, picking one up and staring at it.

"Because, it's an inter-house drama club," Lucy explained. "It's going to be a pretty big deal. Clearwater's said we can do it, so we're going to put on a big show before Christmas. We'll be inviting parents, and probably the school governors as well," she invented casually. "There's a load of people who've put their names down already, but I thought you guys might be interested, because at the moment Slytherin's the only house not being represented. And I don't know, of course, but I'd have thought there might be quite a lot of house points in it, so I thought it'd be unfair if Slytherin didn't get the chance to join in."

Getting her own way was something that Lucy, the youngest in a very large family, had become something of an expert at. To do so, she had utilised many of the traits that made her a Hufflepuff: unwavering friendliness, stubbornness and determination. She had also, however, had to develop some distinctly un-Hufflepuff skills, and she put as much innocence and honesty as she could into her voice as she told the string of half-truths. The two boys looked at each other, and for a moment, she was hopeful.

Then Hart scoffed. "What a load of bullshit." He screwed the flyer up into a ball and tossed it to the ground. "Who cares? Your friends are over there, Weasley. Go and get them to join your stupid club."

For a moment, Lucy's lips set in a line, then she took a deep breath. "It's not bullshit. We really are starting a club, and we want you to join. If you're not interested, fine. But at least think about it."

Hart opened his mouth to speak, but Nott got there first.

"We're not interested," he said flatly. "Sorry. You should probably go back and sit with the rest of them."

Lucy looked at him for a moment, and nobody spoke. Then she shrugged.

"Suit yourself. If you change your minds, let me know." She turned back to the front of the classroom and began to dig her textbook out of her bag as the professor called for silence.

"What are you doing, Weasley?" Hart hissed again, from behind.

Lucy glanced over her shoulder. "I told you. I'm sitting here."

"So, have you thought about it?"

Weylin Nott looked up from the piece of toast he was spreading jam on, and scowled. All he was trying to do this year was survive. With his parents both in prison, and the entire school knowing about it, he had no expectation of the year being anything other than completely grim, but as long as he kept his head down, he might just be alive at the end of it. The last thing he needed was Lucy bloody Weasley trying to… well, he wasn't even sure what she was trying to do. It didn't matter; he wanted nothing to do with it.

"No." It was Titus who replied, not even looking at Weasley.

"Thought about what?" Oscar Selwyn demanded from the other side of Weylin. "What are you even doing here, Weasley? This is the Slytherin table." Oscar didn't take Arithmancy, and neither of the others had thought to tell him about Lucy Weasley's mad scheme.

Weasley smiled brightly, and Titus groaned.

"Shut up, Oscar. Don't encourage her," he said, but Weasley ignored him.

"This!" she said, producing yet another of her little flyers. "We're starting a drama club. All houses welcome! Weylin and Titus are thinking about joining."

Weylin finished spreading his toast and put his knife down. As far as he was aware, he and Lucy Weasley had never been on first-name terms.

"No, we aren't," he said tightly, before Titus could say anything even ruder. People were already staring at them and he needed her to go away. Ideally before his older brother spotted him chatting to a Weasley over breakfast.

"We still need lots more people," Weasley chattered on, as if he hadn't spoken. "We're going to be deciding on a play at the next meeting, so if you've got any ideas, you could bring them along. We'd like to start with something ambitious, to show Clearwater what we can do. Maybe some Shakespeare."

"Some what?" Oscar looked blankly at her.

Weylin wasn't much better informed himself, though he didn't intend to admit it. He'd heard the name, but had no idea what – or who – it was. However, before Weasley could answer, another voice broke in from behind her.

"You've never heard of Shakespeare, Selwyn?" it said scornfully.

Weasley spun round, and beamed at the dark-curled girl behind her. Weylin's scowl deepened, and he attended once more to his toast. Eris Montague, sister of Zeno Montague, who was someone Weylin tried to avoid these days. Once, Zeno, who was a fourth-year, had been his friend, or at least had seemed to be. He had let Weylin tag along with their little gang, both at school and at the Pureblood gatherings in the holidays, and Weylin had been too scared of becoming an outcast to object to the things they did, even when they got quite nasty. Mr and Mrs Montague had been in the League with Weylin's parents. And yet, Weylin's parents were now in Azkaban, while the Montagues had got away with everything. And Zeno no longer wanted anything to do with Weylin, except to throw taunts. Eris was a year below him, and therefore completely unimportant, but everyone knew that the Montagues were all the same.

"Oh, you know Shakespeare? That's great! You could come along and help us choose one!" Weasley exclaimed, seeming delighted.

"Of course I know Shakespeare." Eris scowled. "Come where and choose what?"

"The drama club." Weasley snatched the flyer she had given Oscar, and gave it instead to Eris. "We're looking for members."

"Drama club?" Eris stared at the piece of parchment in her hand, and Weylin, hearing a strange note in her voice, couldn't help looking at her face. She seemed to have some sort of internal struggle going on. "What d'you mean, members? What would we do?"

Eris, in imitation of her older brother and sister, usually spoke with a sneer in her voice, and it was still there, but it was definitely weaker than normal. However, at least Weasley seemed to have lost interest in Weylin, Titus and Oscar, which was one good thing. Weylin took a bite of his toast, but couldn't help keeping an ear on the conversation going on beside him. Oscar was openly listening.

"Anything you want," Weasley replied. "We really need more actors, but you could help out lots of other ways."

"So, there are still, you know… good parts free?" Eris asked slowly, and the sneer had almost entirely gone.

"All of them," said Weasley promptly. "We haven't even decided on a play, let alone started casting. So if you're interested, you could be just about anything. You can even help us pick a play with parts you like!"

Weylin saw Eris swallow. Despite himself, he was intrigued. This was not Montague-like behaviour.

"Right," she said at last. "Well, maybe. You know. If I've got nothing better to do." That sounded more like her, but her tone didn't sound at all convincing.

"Great!" Weasley beamed, then glanced over her shoulder to where Oscar was gaping at her, and Titus was pointedly ignoring everything around him. Weylin hastily pretended to be ignoring it too.

"Bring this lot too, if you can," Weasley said, and then scurried off.

"What were you doing?" Tilly hissed in Lucy's ear, as Lucy seated herself at her own table. Max was there, and Tilly had come over to join them.

"Recruiting," Lucy answered calmly.

"Them?"

"Why not? Look, don't you start. We need some Slytherins, or Clearwater won't let us keep going. And why not them? I thought Nott might quite like the idea of making some new friends, after what happened. I was trying to be friendly, that's all. Though he didn't seem that interested." She was cast down for a moment, then brightened again. "That other girl did though. What's-her-name."

"Eris Montague," Max put in, his voice carefully neutral. "The kid who was mean to Issie Malfoy all last year."

"Oh." Lucy looked disconcerted. "I forgot that was her. Well." Her chin tilted upwards. "They'll just have to get over it, won't they?"