SECOND.

We walk quickly down the ground floor corridor, and I grip Tristan's arm all the way, moving us forward, further. I don't know why, but I know that I have to be far away form the Great Hall. I have to be far away and somewhere safe. It's like premonition, but for something that has already happened; I'm waiting for something that I've missed.

The boys look worried. They ask question after question after question, the first one as soon as we walked through the great double doors, from the Hall; 'Lu, are you OK?', 'What's wrong?', 'Where are we going so fast?', 'you were staring at that Black boy, weren't you?'. I shake my head at them, saying 'not now' when I can catch my breath. I don't think question's need to be asked, because the answers come on their own most, anyway, and they just waste time; time that I need to use to run, to take off.

The corridor stretches like it doesn't want to end, and the sound of my feet beating over stone, my own breath shooting from my lips is loud in my ears. I make my eyes blind and I keep walking, putting metres and metres between us.

"I think- I think I need to go outside," I breath and stop walking. Every word shakes on my white lips. The corridor is narrowing, drawing in, pressing. I want something else now; open space and green and long skies, but I want them to come to me, because I can't turn back to where I've come from, I just can't.

"I think you need to sit down, look – we're here now," Drew says too softly, like someone talking to the mentally unstable. His big, round glasses slip down his nose and I drink up his face; red cheeks, long, hazel eyes and floppy hair, a face I know. I feel his hand on my shoulder, and look away from his face to watch the other push open a door that I didn't even see. I breath out a long breath and step over the thresh-hold with his arm around me.

I think I must have fallen through a worm-hole, and somehow got outside. I look down because I can feel wet grass under my feet, and see green. I don't know where the castle went, and I don't feel grounded so maybe it slipped out from under me, maybe. I move my feet around, testing it, thinking I might just fall through the floor, and frown. It feels like grass should.

"You'll get used to that," Tristan laughs, coming into the garden after us. "Well, you wanted to go outside, right?"

He puts a hand on each shoulder and pushes me onto a big log, to the right of the door. I smile at him and run my hands along the bark and over soft moss. The wood is rotten and black, but it dips in, in just the right place for me to sit down. The moss is soft under my hands, and cool and damp and springy; the smell of the forest is like the smell of home.

This is a good place to be.

I cast my eyes along the four walls, that don't feel like walls. It's not like any of the other classrooms in the castle, but like a wild garden or a piece of the forbidden forest. Long, yellow grass grows up through the earthy floor, between rocks and dust and weeds; jaded light spills in through the spaces in the canopy of leaves that stretch, hanging low over the windows; the door, as it clicks shut behind us, disappears and falls in with the leafy walls, and but for a weak shaft of light that passes under the gap at the bottom, I wouldn't know it was there; trees cast long shadows in the mottled light.

"Right, what's up?" Drew asks softly, and moves to sit with me on the log. I watch Tristan throw himself down on his back onto the grass in front of us, looking up at the ceiling.

"I don't really know."

"Yes, you do," Tristan says sharply, and his eyes flick up to my pale face. "You were just having breakdown there, Lu, almost; something is wrong."

"I was just- upset."

"What, with that Jack Black, that you sit next to?" Drew asks, searching my face.

"Well, no," I sigh, and cast around for something to say to them, a lie to tell. "I – I had a little bit of an argument with Dad about- things and Jack's really good at Transfiguration – he's like, the class pet, so I just felt- I felt caught between him and my dad back then, almost."

"I like you just as you are, don't worry," Tristan smiles, and sits up to pat my knee. I smile back at him, but I feel bad that I'm lying all the time and I pull down my sleeves so that my hands disappear. I can't tell them what really happened, because, the thing is, they wouldn't understand it like I do; no-one would get it, and they'd get him expelled, or just hex him or something. Its not like that, he's not like that.

"I know, thanks, Trist."

Drew looks like he's going to say something else, but the voice we hear speak isn't his, its someone else's, and its very low -

"So, we have a guest?"

I've never seen him before, this close, and I think he's wonderful; the centaur, Professor Firenze, walks out from behind a tree. I flush pink as he looks me up and down. I know a centaur in the forest called Marion, and we talk a lot but he isn't anything like this one. I stare at his pale blue eyes, flat and open like plain-lands, and the silky blond curls, shot through with a grey, and his long, bare chest. I watch his tail flick from side to side, with my eyes down; left, right and a full circle.

His eyes pass over me, and he says something quietly, something that I don't like, and I don't really get, before he turns to Tristan and Drew -

"You should be careful, for Venus – you like your magical creatures so much, that you'll turn yourself feral, young lady."

I sit in an armchair next to the fire, in the evening, and the burning coals warm me up. Amelia is lying on her stomach on the carpet, at my feet, doing some work for arithmancy,

Over the next weeks, Jack doesn't try to talk to me again, or come over, or even look at me. I don't tempt him either. It's a good thing, because I start to feel more- more normal, again. It's like, going outside when you're too hot in the house,and even though it's raining, you don't mind because the water on your skin isn't that bad. I'm just waiting in the rain, until I can take the heat. I think about it all the time, or I know it'll rot me from the inside; what do I want? I don't know if it's just a breath, or to talk with him, or whether I never want to see his face again, but the space lets me think about it like I'm outside of myself looking in. I can see things set out, clear like looking in through a glass house.

I know one thing so far- one thing that he owes to me; an explanation, but I won't have until I'm ready, and I'm not ready for it yet.

In Transfiguration, he keeps his new seat at the back, and I don't send him back any notes. I have a wordless agreement with Dad, that I can leave the room before he calls me back; well I run like hell before he can do anything about it, if that's the same. I go quickly, but Jack is quicker; at the end of every lesson, he's gone before I even turn round. I feel his eyes in me when I'm eating in the Great Hall, but I don't look behind me, not ever.

I don't go anywhere alone.

I don't know if he's giving me space, or if he's just a coward, but I hope for his sake that it's the first one; I want to think that he's good in some way, because it would be hard for me to admit that I was always wrong about him. On bad days, I pretend that he's leaving me alone because he wants me to work it out for myself, like a detective that has to find the movements of a murderer.

The days crawl by, and I wait for something to change, but it doesn't; until three weeks have passed, and then when we meet again, and it's unearthly like the first time.

"-and it's fascinating really, when you think about the way that just that small budding

flower can kill even a giant, if you smell it at the right time of year," Roger says, and I think he's excited about it because his voice goes up an octave. Well, I think, good for Roger, and I nod like I'm listening, but I'm not. The seventh floor corridor is long and dark , like it always is when I have to patrol it with Roger, and the shadows change on us. He pauses, so I take my chances -

"Roger," I say, before he can get another word in.

"Oh, yes?"

"I think if we want to catch anyone out, then we can't talk to each other, or they'll know we're here and make a run for it."

"Ah yes, that's a point if we want to catch the scoundrels," he says, puffing out his chest. I make a gagging sound, trying to stop the laughter getting out, and he looks at me sideways and puts a finger to his lips.

"Oh yeah, sorry," I cough quietly.

He looks like a spy as he moves along the walls, uses his wand so that he can see round the corners, and jumps into antechambers like a hunter. He doesn't need to do that, but it's fun to watch. I walk along slowly, behind him and when he asks what I'm doing, I say with a smile that I've got his back. I laugh into my hand watching his face, and his narrow, serious eyes raking one corridor, then the next.

Walking the castle at night is one of those things that everyone talks about, but no-one really does it and the people that do do it aren't stupid enough to get caught out; patrol is like a walk in the park for prefects, a mission for Roger. The lamps are starting to burn low, so I take out my wand and light it with a single whispered Lumos. I hold it up over my head and the single shaft throws Roger out of shadow as he yells out and leaps back from a shaking tapestry. I run over to him, excited.

"Hush, I've found someone," he whispers, and points his wand. I hear a hiss, and then I fall back laughing when a cat flies at him, all the hairs on it's back standing on end. It turns out to be quite a nasty cat, and Roger kicks at it before it can tear his ankles apart.

That, is the most interesting adventure two prefects will ever have together on an evening patrol.

"Ah, we should have seen it coming, Rog, the code 'angry black cat' situation," I say seriously, and he scowls at me, dusting down his trousers. It's not a time to be making jokes, I see.

We carry on down the corridor in silence, and I'm all right, and then we turn another corner and my breath starts to come in short bursts. It's like, that moment of blind panic when you find out that you've lost something that's important, like your wand, when you need it more than anything; one second you're happy enough, and then you pat your pockets and it's gone and your neck grows hot. It feels just like that, but the thing that's fallen out of my pocket isn't something I think I can find again. I've lost ignorance, the moment my heel ground into the stone and I made an about turn, it dropped right out.

I'm having a sort of de ja vu, but more like, a recurring nightmare, keen recognition.

I hold my breath, and all I can see as we move slowly down the corridor is the next corner growing bigger, closer, like a shadow moving in the sun. I turned around that corner, just a month ago, in the dark, and around that corner is where I caught out Jack. I look down to see goose pimples pop up on my arms, but my neck feels warm; they used to do that when I was little, and Neville told us ghost stories at the Burrow. I breath out slowly, and Roger looks at me.

"Lucy, are you all right?" he asks kindly. I pat his arm and nod, like you might pat an old person's arm. I must look pale for him to stare at me long enough to notice that something is different, when his nose could be under a tapestry or around the corner. He turns away and I sigh at myself. I know that I'm making my own bad dream, throwing things from the past into the shadows between the torches, but I can't help it. I feel like I did then, in the dark, my feet on the stone, come full circle. "Oh, lets go through here, there's a handy antechamber on the right, and good to hide in I expect!"

Roger pulls me by the arm through a door that looks like another stretch of wall, into a thin passageway, just before we get to the corner. I sigh, because I know there won't be anyone here, but it's good to see different stone walls and torches burning high. We walk through the passageway, and as we get to the last corridor before the staircase, I see someone moving. God no, I think as my arms go limp at my sides. My heart stops for a second, and then kicks into gear, pumping hard. He can't see us, because we're in shadow, coming from the side. It's not all like it was a month ago, but this part is the same.

I throw out my arm to stop Roger from going out onto the main corridor, and step back into the darkest shadow. Jack is walking with his head down, one hand on the wall as he moves and fingers raking over the stone; he's wearing a navy dressing-gown and has a glinting silver flask under one arm. I press into the wall to stop myself from leaping out into the corridor. It's one of those moments, where you have to push away gushing instinct and fight yourself. I can't see him after all that's happened, I can't meet him in the corridor again.

I know best what's good for me, don't I?

Jack is passing, and everything is going to be ok, I think. I forget about Roger though, and I start as he clears his throat loudly, before I can say anything to stop him. He moves to step out into the corridor, probably to snap at Jack for being out of bed. I don't think about it, I just grip his arm and pull him back along the passageway- it's all I can think of, not to be seen. Roger digs in his heels.

"What on earth are you doing?" he snaps, trying to pull his arm away.

"Oh, please Roger, quick!" I hiss, swinging on his arm, and inch by inch I move him back, but all he wants to do is go back and catch Jack out. He tries to shake me off, right up to the point where I turn him around the corner and out into another corridor. I pant, and look over my shoulder thinking we've got away, we're almost there; but then, just as the corner eclipses us I turn back to look and I see Jack's silver eyes flick in our direction, glittering and cool in the dark. He disappears.

"What's wrong with you?" Roger shouts out, sending my hand spinning from his arm. I catch my breath as we wait outside an antechamber. I look up into his scowling face and wave a hand at him, not wanting to answer, trying to get the picture of Jack on the corridor out of my mind. "Lucy!" Roger snaps.

"It doesn't matter," I sigh, as he bears down on me.

"But-"

"Rog," I say warningly, "you- shit!"

I cry out and leap back into the wall as the head of my cousin, floating like he doesn't care that his body isn't there, appears under the lamplight. His head laughs down at me, and shakes at Roger, who has put himself in front of me and has his wand out; well, it's like he thinks he's a noble knight. I step out from behind him and I scowl up at Albus, trying to catch my breath; hair shaggier than uncle Harry's and thicker, and the green eyes are shot through with hazel that most people don't see, no round glasses but weird things called contact lenses, filmy little circles, a broader face and freckles across his nose. They all say that he looks just like uncle Harry, and he does look more like him than James and Lily but he's his own person too. He pushes Roger's wand away from his face, and shakes out his hair.

"Ok, settle down, mate," he laughs, and winks at me.

" Al, don't do that," I snap, and put my hand on Roger's shoulder. He looks angry and startled all at once, and white as he stares at Al's head, hanging there. I sigh - "It's all right, Roger, he's just got an invisibility cloak on, the plank."

"Oh right, charming Lu," Al grumbles, and I throw him a look. Roger's breath shoots from his lips and his eyes close in relief, poor sod. He passes a hand over his face and stands up straight to bear down on me again.

"Do you know, I think I've had enough for tonight," he snaps, and turns on his heel. I watch with a sigh, as he stalks away, and only pauses to call over his shoulder - "and I'm only letting the fact that you're out past curfew drop because you're her cousin, mate."

Al lets out a long, low whistle as Roger disappears around the corner, heels clicking on the stone. I stare up at him.

"Well, he's got a bee or two in his bonnet, hasn't he?" Al laughs. "It's not that much past curfew for God's sake, and I'm a bloody seventh year!"

"Oh, come off it, Al! It's not his fault, is it; there isn't anything to see of you except your bloody head, and I know that would make me edgy, and well, Roger likes to- what would you call it?- flaunt his prefect-ness, and I haven't been letting him tonight. He's just pissed, that's all!" I say, and then pause. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Well, I'm looking for you, aren't I?" he smiles, and throws up the invisibility cloak so that it falls on us both. I think it's much nicer, talking to a whole person, but I frown at him.

"What do you want with me?"

"Oh, don't look so nervous!" he laughs. "It's only that, my dad was giving an evening class on Defence Against the Dark Arts, and now he's up in the Gryffindor common room, like he always is if he's here. I came to find you and steal you away for some family time."

We start to walk together, back along the corridor.

"Oh! Ok then," I say brightly. The Gryffindor common room in the evening, with Lily sitting on uncle Harry's knee, in an armchair and Neville in the other, and the rest of us lying on our stomachs on the old rug by the warm fireplace, is a place that I love to be. If you've ever sat in a circle around a camp fire and sang along to old camp songs, then I think it's like that; you can smell burning coals, and there's music in the stories that they tell us, like, a whole rich history.

"Ok, but I'll need to tell Amelia where I'm going, or - can she come too?"

"Oh, Amelia's already there – I went to get you before from the Ravenclaw tower but you weren't there and I invited her along too," he shrugs, and takes my arm. It looks like he's blushing, under the torchlight, but I don't say anything to him. I let him half carry me back along the seventh corridor to the portrait of the fat lady. I like the fat lady; in my first three years, I used to sit cross-legged in front of the portrait and ask her questions about being a Gryffindor, when I got the time.

I smile at her and she says hello dear in the wobbly, warm voice that I always love. Al raises his eyebrows.

"Belladonna," he says, and the fat lady swings back.

Through the square opening, I can see my cousins sitting around the fire. Lily is up on Uncle Harry's knee, long red hair in a plait; I can see Hugo's wavy orange hair and heavy, freckled face from the floor; Rose is sitting back to back with her friend Henry and Louis is lying on his stomach, back of his blonde head to us and talking to Lorcan. Uncle Harry is leaning forward, speaking with Neville.

"-it was the best feeling, wasn't it Nev? When he just fell into the room of requirement, like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, and everything just stopped."

"What are you talking about?" Albus asks, as he pulls off the invisibility cloak, and throws it to Lily.

"Oh, when your uncle Percy came back," uncle Harry smiles. I stop where I am, but Albus walks over to sit by Amelia and Neville, and I barely even bat an eyelid when she smiles at him. I don't think, not once, not absolutely ever, that I've heard a war story about my dad. It's like finding a page you skipped in a book, and now, everything makes a little bit more sense.

"When- when my dad came back?" I ask him, arms folding themselves. I move forward and sit cross-legged in front of uncle Harry.

"Oh yes," says Neville, "he was a bit of a last minute hero, but he was brilliant when he came."

The torches in brackets are burning low, as uncle Harry takes us back along the corridors to the Ravenclaw common-room. I walk with my head down as he talks; if someone walked past us, it would look like he was talking to himself, because he told us to use Al's invisibility cloak -

"I'll bet they think I'm a terrible influence," he says, shaking his head with a small smile. "- encouraging students to sneak around the school in the night."

The corridors are so silent, its like they're not there at all.

"You're quiet, Lu?"

I look up at the thin scar on uncle Harry's forehead, the green eyes behind the round glasses; this is the face of stories, and legends and newspapers, and chocolate frog cards. I think about my dad.

"I never heard anyone tell a story about my dad, like that," I say quietly. "I think it's just, sad that after all these years I didn't know about him, like that."

"Your dad's alright Lucy, and I think after everything, he just didn't want to make a big deal out of it, you know?"

I nod; I think Dad was just different, like me.

"I'll leave you here, then," he whispers, stopping at the end of the corridor, that turns into the Ravenclaw common room. I slide out of the cloak, and uncle Harry squeezes my shoulder, saying - "Look after yourself, Lu."

I'll try, I think as I follow Amelia into the common room, but a shiver goes through me; some people say that someone's walked over your grave when you get a shiver, and I think it's a little bit like that, it's like premonition, like your whole body is waiting for something.

I try to shake off the feeling, but I can't.