This chapter is mostly filler, but I needed those letters to get sent out.
I'm thinking about writing a Tonks-centric one-shot for this...


Wednesday evening passes the same as Tuesday, with Snape leaving to deal with Neville Longbottom's detention. When he returns, he gives a satisfied though indignant nod at the perfect work station I've created.

"Tomorrow evening's lesson is cancelled. I still expect your notes by noon on Friday. Friday evening will continue on as usual."

I wake up early on Thursday morning and head toward the Owlery, the letter for Tonks clutched tightly in my hand. It took a while to figure out what exactly I should write, in case the letter somehow got into the wrong hands. And of course, I had to be very sneaky with the wording, but I'm sure that if Tonks is smart enough to be an Auror, she'll be smart enough to figure out the subliminal messages in the letter that says:

Dear Tonks,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm doing alright. School has only just begun, but I've got more work than ever. And to top it off, I've got a bit of a seriously personal problem. Usually I would ask Mum or my uncle for advice, but the thought of someone else reading their mail and learning about my deepest, darkest secrets is so embarrassing.

You said that if I ever needed anything, I could come to you. Would you help me? It really is quite embarrassing and I would really like to keep it a secret between us.

Sincerely,
Lizzie.

P.S. What do you know about Professor Moody? Is he really as mad as everyone thinks? He says some of the strangest things.

I watch Cleo fly off with a sigh before heading back to the castle with a nervous thumping in my heart. We've got Defense Against the Dark Arts first hour tomorrow. So far I've managed to avoid Professor Moody, but I really, really need a response from Tonks before I have to walk into his classroom. I want to know if he's an ally, or somebody else to be careful with.

I savor dinner that evening like it's the last meal I'll ever have. By the time I've finished my first plate, Fred and George are already taking their last spoons of pie and standing.

"Loads to do," says George.

"Got to get to work."

"Are you going to tell us what on?" asks Katie.

"Nope."

"Don't even bother asking."

I roll my eyes and finish my dinner quickly, realizing that leaving now would mean Lee and Katie would be left alone. And since the rest of us have been betting on when the two of them will finally admit their feelings for each other, I've decided that leaving the two of them alone is the best way to give them a push in the right direction.

"All finished," I say, grabbing two cookies to take back to the common room with me and rushing off before the other two can say anything.

The common room is just starting to get noisy when I enter. I look toward the corner where Fred and George are sitting, and they hunch closer together, their backs turning away from me. I roll my eyes and laugh. This prank better be brilliant. I walk upstairs to get the book Snape lent me and some ink and parchment. The window by my bed is opened, and in the center of my four-poster is a hastily folded up note that Cleo must have dropped off earlier. I close the window and take the note, scribbled in glittery purple ink.

Dear Lizzie,

Your letter caught me just before I left for work. I'm glad to hear from you. You don't need to worry about your uncle. I'm in charge of watching him. Your mum is being watched by some promotion hunting rookie, though, so she needs to be extra careful. Write me another letter, along with your letter to Mr. Lupin written in invisible ink. I'll give it to him.

You can write to me about anything. Nobody checks my mail.

As for Moody, he's a great man. The main reason people thought he'd gone mad was that he insisted your father was innocent. He still stands by it. He's a good ally if we want to get anywhere. People may think he's off his rocker, but he's still influential where he needs to be. Not to mention, he's the most brilliant Auror anybody alive has ever seen.

I have to go now. Hope to hear from you soon.

With love,
Tonks.

The breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding tumbles out in relief. I can't talk to Mum about everything I'd like, but at least I have a way of properly communicating with Uncle Remus now. Also, I can be a bit more at ease with tomorrow's DADA class.

The morning's DADA lesson leaves a large part of the class shaken up, including myself. I've heard a couple stories about the Order of the Phoenix and the war from Mum and Uncle Remus, but they always left out the kind of thing that would happen to somebody if they got captured by Death Eaters. The afternoon's Herbology lesson proves to be enough of a distraction, and with my last hour of the day as a free hour, I finish my notes and conclusions on the first two chapters of Snape's book and begin reading the next one.

If Snape is surprised to find my work finished and turned in a day before it's meant to be, he doesn't say anything as I place it on the desk in Dungeon Ten that evening. The lesson is cut short due to a staff meeting, but I manage to get the station set up perfectly with only two looks at my drawing.

"You will stay until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays. On Sunday mornings you will come in at ten thirty, go to lunch at the regular time, come back at one and stay until dinner, and have a free evening. You will turn in notes and conclusions on the next three chapters by Tuesday. Dismissed."

There are few people left in the common room when I arrive. Fred and George are once again hunched over in the corner acting suspiciously. I narrow my eyes at them for a moment before a snort by one of the windows catches my attention and I find Harry and Ron bent over star charts and prediction forms.

"Try running into a clan of vampires," I suggest, sitting down in a chair in front of Harry and Summoning my History of Magic essay, "Katie says that's one of Trelawney's favorites."

"Don't mind if I do," says Harry, scribbling my idea into an empty slot.

"Have you gotten anything from him?" I ask, unrolling my parchment and making sure my quill is sharp enough.

"Nothing," says Harry, leaning back into his armchair.

"What did you write to him about, anyway?" I ask.

Ron tenses and goes strangely still, looking between me and Harry. Harry sighs and ruffles his hair in a way that I've seen James do in nearly all his pictures.

"I've been meaning to tell you since the Cup, but I couldn't get a moment alone with you," he says, his eyes flicking toward the corner where Fred and George are rolling up their parchment, "This summer, a few days before the Cup, I had this strange dream. I can't really remember all the details, but Wormtail was in it, and another man, and they were talking to Voldemort."

"Harry!"

Harry ignores Ron's urgent whisper and continues, "When I woke up, my scar was hurting."

"Your scar?" my eyes flick up toward the lightning bolt that is half hidden by his hair, "Has it ever done that before?"

"Back in first year," he nods, "But it only happened when I was close to him, or when his host would look at me."

"Well that's not an option," I answer in a low voice, "Dumbledore isn't exactly known for making the same mistakes twice, and with Mad-Eye Moody around, there's no way. Unless Moody's hiding Voldemort behind his hair."

Ron shivers, but instead of reprimanding me, he opens his mouth to say, "Do you think that's possible?"

"Merlin, no, Ron! I was joking. Few people can get close enough to Moody to shake his hand, let alone possess him," I laugh dryly, "Besides, that kind of Dark Magic requires consent on both parties, and I think we'll all agree that Moody agreeing to help a Dark Wizard is about as likely as Moody agreeing to dance Swan Lake in a tutu."

The others laugh at this, but I lean forward and ask Harry in an even lower voice, "What else do you remember about the dream? Did you see Voldemort?"

"No…sort of. He turned around to face where I was facing, but I don't really remember what I saw, just that it was horrifying to me at the moment."

"But he was physically there?" I ask.

"I guess so," Harry shrugs, looking concerned, "Why?"

I stare at him for a moment, debating whether I should tell him my theory. Will he think I'm being paranoid like Fred and George did? What if I'm wrong?

"Look, Harry," I start slowly, "I'm no expert on Dark Wizards. But I have this theory. Fred and George think I'm crazy, but…"

"Wait," he holds up a hand, "If I've learned one thing, it's that when it comes to Hogwarts, the craziest ideas are usually the ones that end up being right."

I smile and lean forward a bit more to whisper, "Last year, when I thought Dad was a Death Eater, I made Uncle Remus tell me everything he knew about them, including how to identify if somebody really was one. Death Eaters have a special way of communicating. The Dark Mark is tattooed onto their arm."

"They have that thing on their skin?" asks Ron, looking ready to be sick.

I nod with a grimace, "It's how they call each other. One Death Eater touches the Mark, and everybody Apparates to his or her location. Uncle Remus says that the Mark must be cursed in some way. Curses wear off when their creator dies. Voldemort didn't die completely, so I figure the Mark is still faint on the Death Eater's skin. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Pettigrew, and plenty of other rich purebloods that wormed their way out of Azkaban are never seen with their arms uncovered."

"But what does that have to do with my scar hurting?" asks Harry, his voice equally low as mine and his eyes flickering from one side to another.

"Your scar is the mark of a curse that Voldemort gave you, Harry. Just like the Dark Mark he gave to all his followers. While he's weak, your scar remains dormant, just like the Dark Mark tattoos. But if he gets stronger, your scar hurts, and their Dark Marks start to act up. I think that's what happened at the World Cup. They weren't just celebrating the Ireland victory, they were drinking to their leader. They attacked because they were sure of getting away with it."

"You think You-Know-Who is getting stronger?" Ron's voice cracks.

"I think it's possible," I nod, "We've always known this would happen. He managed to latch onto a host three years ago. Maybe he's managed to get a body of his own now, no matter how weak it is. I don't know how much help Wormtail can be, but he must be doing something."

The conversation ends there, with each of us sitting back and trying to do homework while being engrossed in our own thoughts. While Harry's dream and the pain in his scar aren't exactly solid proof to my theory, they do add a bit more credibility to it. I know Uncle Remus will give me the same look that Fred did and pat me on the head if I told him, and Mum would sigh and tell me I'm looking too deep into things, but I know this hunch is too strong to be fake. I wonder what Dad would think? He might believe me. He's always sounded like the type of man who has plenty of faith in another's intuition.

Hermione shows up a few minutes later with a box full of badges. Ron looks at her like she's the most ridiculous thing on the planet, while Harry looks like he's stuck between laughter and exasperation. I'll be the last person to tell Hermione she can't do something, so I give her a few sickles and take the badge, planning to toss it into my trunk where a House-Elf won't see it and get offended.

"Hedwig!" Harry shoots out of his chair and runs to the window so fast that I have to pull my feet back onto the chair before getting up myself.

"Is that an answer?"

"Yes!" says Harry, "About time."

Harry scrambles over to sit down and read, while I run behind him to read over his shoulder, sighing in relief. It's a short letter, clearly written in a great hurry.

Harry —

I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore – they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.

I'll be in touch soon. Give Lizzie a big hug for me. And tell her that there is nothing that either you or her can do to stop me from travelling north. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius

"Is he INSANE?!" I yell loud enough for the two seventh years that were making out in the corner to start and let go of each other.

"Shh!" Hermione waves her hands at me and ushers me into a chair.

Harry smacks himself in the forehead, "I shouldn't have told him! I made him think he's got to come back."

"He's an idiot," I shake my head, rubbing at my temples, "He's going to get himself killed."

After a few more curses on mine and Harry's part, we both head up to the dormitories.

"I'll write to him in the morning and tell him not to come," says Harry before we part at the staircases.

"You read what he wrote. It's not going to stop him," I shrug.

"It's worth a try," he answers, squeezing my shoulder, "Goodnight, Lizzie."

I sigh and give his arm a light squeeze, "Goodnight, Harry."

"Try to get some sleep," he says as I start up my staircase.

"Not making any promises."


I'm so busy the next couple of weeks that it's hard to focus much on my Dad's letter. Instead of waiting for him to answer Harry, I sent Cleo off with my own note the day after we received his:

Dear Dad –

I don't care what you say, you must not come back! I know you mean well, and I think your suspicions about these signs are the same as mine, but let Dumbledore figure this one out. If something does happen regarding Voldemort, you're no use to us in Azkaban without a soul. Please, please just let Dumbledore take care of this.

There are a couple of people willing to believe you're innocent, but not enough to keep you out of trouble if somebody sees you. Please stay where you are. And whatever you do, don't go visiting Mum or Uncle Remus.

I love you. Please be careful.

Lizzie

Neither of our letters has been answered, and I take that to be a sign that my dad is not going to do as we say. Even so, there's little time for me to worry between all the homework that has been loaded on us, the strain of Moody's classes, and having to learn the properties of almost every potion ingredient known to man.

When the third week of October comes, I'm left wondering where September went. The loads of homework are temporarily forgotten when the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are announced. Even Fred and George seem to crawl out of their corner to chat excitedly with the rest of us.

On the morning of October thirtieth, the whole castle is positively sparkling. The portraits have all been cleaned, the suits of armor shined, and even the walls seem to have been thoroughly scrubbed down. The Great Hall is decorated with banners of the four houses, and the tables seem to have received a proper scrubbing. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are sat next to the twins, and based on the looks on the boys' faces, Hermione seems to be pestering them all about something.

"Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!" Hermione waves her hands about as I sit down.

Harry starts to scarf down his eggs, Ron rolls his eyes at the ceiling, Fred becomes very interested in his bacon, but George leans forward.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No, of course not. I hardly think students are supposed to."

"Well, the three of us have," says George, pointing to me and Fred, "Loads of times to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best jobs in the world."

I'm impressed by George's statement. He's the first person to have pointed this out to Hermione, but she doesn't seem to care. She's about to retort when the whoosh of a hundred owls sounds above us. I immediately look up, trying to find Cleo or Hedwig.

"Look," Hermione tugs on my sleeve and points at the ceiling, where Harry's snowy owl is gliding toward us.

"What's it say?" I ask in a hushed voice as Harry opens the letter. Fred and George start talking about the Tournament among themselves, probably thinking that I'll tell them what's going on later.

Nice try, you two.

I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig or Cleo. Keep switching owls, and send letters one at a time. Don't worry about me, just look out for yourselves and stick together. Lizzie, don't let Harry out of your sight. Harry, don't forget what I said about your scar and stick close to Lizzie. She's been raised by Remus and my wife, so she's smart, and she knows how to defend herself just as well as you do. Stick together. Take care of each other.

Sirius

Nobody pays much attention in their classes throughout the day, but my distraction has less to do with the Tournament and more to do with Dad's letter. He made it this far, but I still can't help but worry. Although it is a bit reassuring that I won't have to wait weeks for his replies.

I spend my free hour at the end of the day writing three letters. The first is addressed to Mum:

Dear Mum,

Sorry I took so long since my last letter. With our OWLs coming up, the teachers are adding to the workload considerably. Not to mention all the extra Potions lessons I've been taking, and helping Madame Pomphrey whenever I can, which is almost never these days.

The delegations from the other schools are arriving later this evening. Professor Flitwick looks like he's on the verge of a nervous breakdown. You should see how spotless this place looks. I think Snape even de-greased his hair.

I got a letter today from my friend Marina. You remember her, don't you? She says she's continuing her travels, and is currently in the country. I doubt I'll see her while she's here, but maybe we can meet up in Hogsmeade or something. It would be nice to see her after so much time away. She thinks the whole ordeal about the Triwizard Tournament is incredible.

Anyway, I still have another letter to write and then I should get ready for the foreign arrivals.

Love you,

Lizzie.

I stare at the letter for a while, making sure that it doesn't give away anything that it shouldn't. After the third read, I'm satisfied with the words and move on to another piece of parchment and begin a letter to Moony.

Dear Uncle Remus,

I'm sending you this letter with Tonks so that there's no possibility of it being intercepted. I hope everything is going well with your new job, and that your transformations are not causing you too much trouble.

Snape said you and Mum would find out through Dumbledore, but I want to give you the news myself, even if you already know: Professor Snape has named me his apprentice. I still don't trust him, and having to spend my evenings in a dungeon with him definitely makes me uneasy, but I've always had an affinity for Potions, and who wouldn't want to hire a Healer that's also a Potions Mistress? Imagine everything I could do! I could cure all sorts of things with the right knowledge! The training is a lot of work, and so is being a fifth year what with OWLs and all, but I'm pulling through.

With that done, I should probably get to the real reason I'm writing this letter. On the day of the World Cup, Harry told me that he'd written to Dad, but he didn't say what he'd written about. A few weeks ago we were sat in the common room, and he caught me up on what's been going on.

A few nights before the Cup, Harry had a dream involving Wormtail, a strange man, and Voldemort. When he woke up, his scar was hurting. That's only happened when Voldemort was nearby, as some sort of warning. Dad replied that he's been hearing a lot of rumors, and that Dumbledore must have brought Moody out of retirement because he's reading the signs. I think I know what he means by signs. A Ministry witch disappearing, the Death Eaters suddenly gaining confidence at the Cup, Dumbledore getting Snape to train another Potions expert; think about it. Three years ago, Voldemort got somebody to help him regain enough power to steal the Stone. What if after what happened last term, Pettigrew went groveling back? If Harry's scar can warn him when Voldemort is around, do you think it can also warn him when Voldemort is gaining power?

I haven't expressed all my theories and questions to anyone. I started talking about it to Fred, but he thought I was paranoid. I hope you don't think so. Dad doesn't seem to think so, because the pain in Harry's scar was enough to make him come back to the country. He says he's well hidden, and as long as he sticks to being a dog I guess he'll be alright. I told him not to contact you or Mum. I'm worried about him, but he seems to think he's made the right choice in coming back.

I'll keep you up to date on anything new. Send your answers back with Tonks.

With love,
Lizzie

I pull out my wand and mutter a long spell under my breath. It's a spell that Uncle Remus told me about many years ago during one of his bedtime stories, and I've been secretly working on it for the past few months. Slowly, the ink on the parchment disappears, leaving behind a completely blank page. I scrawl a list of book titles and authors, some real and some made up, with the name Rose Barton (my grandmother's maiden name) and a fake address written at the bottom.

Finally, I pull out the third piece of parchment. I don't understand how, but of all the letters, this is the hardest to write.

Dear Tonks,

There's something that's been bothering me for a while, and I need some advice. I don't want to tell Katie or Angelina anything yet, and telling Mum is out of the question. I've never had an older sister or anything like that, so I guess maybe what I need is somebody older to hear me out, but who still remembers what it's like to be my age. I guess all I really have to ask is this: Have you ever had feelings for somebody you weren't supposed to? Like, say, a friend? How do you know when that you're falling for someone like that?

This has been scratching at the back of my head for a while, and I guess I just need to get it off my chest. Thanks for taking the time to read a teenager's rant.

Lizzie.

P.S. I'm sending a list of books with my letter. Could you give it to the cashier at the muggle bookstore we talked about?

With all three letters ready to be sent out, I pull on my cloak and rush downstairs, running to reach the Owlery and get back in time for the other schools' arrival. Cleo is sent off with the letter to Mum, and I send one of the school owls with the letter and "reading list" for Tonks.

I can see the entire school already forming into groups out on the grounds when I step out of the Owlery, so I run almost the whole way down. By the time I step into place between Katie and Romilda Vane, clutching a stitch at my side and pushing the curls that came loose from my ponytail out of my face, most of the students and staff are already in place.

"Miss Black!" McGonagall snaps before stepping into her place. "Fix your hair and try to stand up straight!"

"Up to no good in the owlery?" a voice whispers in my ear.

"Just treason and consorting with Death Eaters," I whisper back, returning Fred's sly smile before a couple of first years start to yell and point toward the sky...