"When the Prewetts fell, it was the end of an era. We'd been convinced we were unbeatable, that those who died were somehow not as good enough, not as fast enough. Our little circle, of the young group that joined the Order, we'd seemed invulnerable. We could survive anything, do anything. We had this little protective bubble around us, and even when those outside the bubble, or close to the bubble, were taken, they weren't us. And then suddenly the boys were gone, puncturing the bubble and bringing in all sorts of fear. If Gid and Fab could be taken, why not Sirius, or even James? What about those who weren't as good as them to begin with?" She sighed heavily. "After their deaths, it really became war for us. Not that it wasn't before.. But it just seemed safer when they were around. And after all that, everyone who died, it's happening all over again."

"Uh, quick question," said Fred, looking nervous. "When were we born?"

"What?" Jenny and his brother chorused.

"Well, it's just...Fred and George, Fabian and Gideon, good-looking troublemakers?'

His brother rolled his eyes and socked him. "Weren't you listening to anything she said? They didn't even like pranks! Reincarnation's bollocks, Fred, don't be a git!"

"You would have been born well over a year before they died, anyway," Jenny scoffed, laughing wildly. "You're much more like Sirius and James- Gideon and Fabian found pranks to be beneath them. They preferred more illegal mischief. Ask Mundungus Fletcher- he lost half his business after they were killed."

"And I'm older, besides," George finished, settling it.

"A minute and a half!" Fred protested, forgetting his earlier mention.

Jenny watched them, her amusement fading. These boys were much like the friends of her youth, which is probably why she'd taken to them so quickly. If their fate was to be anything like that of her friends..no, that would not happen. She'd die before she'd let that happen. She only hoped she wouldn't regret helping them bribe their way into the Order.

"Miss?" said an approaching Healer trembling in fear of the object before her. Jenny started. The woman was holding her leather jacket out as if it were a baby basilisk. "Is this yours? It arrived with a motorcycle contraption up front.."

"Yeah, it's mine," Jenny affirmed, waving her hand dismissively.

"It was making noises," the woman said with a shudder. "And it's made of some awful material. I thought it was dragon skin, but it has a different feel about it." Shuddering, she dropped it on Remus' sleeping head. Eyes creaking open, he grabbed it and stuck it under his head as a makeshift pillow, then promptly dropped off again. Jenny smiled slightly. When Remus was sleeping, heaven help any who attempted to wake him. The poor werewolf needed his rest, anyways.

"Noises, huh?" she said, trying not to mock her. "Well, I'll be sure to look into that later. Now, the bike, did it seem to be in good condition? Was it scratched? Was-"

"It looked all right," the Healer said hesitantly, eyes avoiding Jenny's. Noticing this, Jenny started with worry and bolted to the lower floor of St. Mungo's, where she'd sent her beloved bike.

"And that's why mum says not to get too attached to possessions," Fred said pointedly, tossing a Transparency Tablet into his mouth. "Okay, here's hoping I don't go through the floor this time."

"Oy, Fred," said George quietly, as his brother attempted to reach his arm through the bed post. "Her friends, what happened to them. The Marauders, the Prewetts.what if that happens-"

"Won't happen to us," said Fred matter-of-factly, suddenly falling right through the bed and sighing with relief when he didn't slip through the floor.

"Why not?" said George glumly, poking the Disapparating Dart with his wand. It disappeared in a poof of fire, then reappeared a moment later, spent. "What do we have that they don't?"

"They," said Fred passionately, as he stumbled to an erect position, "were not twins."

Jenny scrutinized her bike carefully, wincing at the mirror that had fallen off and the clearly smashed speedometer. She repaired it delicately with a flick off her wand and a gentle, "Reparo!" The motorcycle found itself back in it shined state of perfect condition as she proceeded to clean the mud from the bottom. Paying rent for parking, she walked back in, whistling the theme from Indiana Jones.

By now, it was half past noon, and the sun smiled down on her for the brief second she enjoyed fresh air. The waiting room was bustling, and voices could be heard complaining.

"Look, I can't stop- Ugggg- throwing up! My brother force fed me something!"

"My mother cursed me and now my ears won't stop wiggling!"

"Please, can you help our house-elf? Our toddler didn't mean to, but he seems to have done something to her nose."

The last was interesting enough to cause Jenny to turn and look. A gurgling baby was making little laughing noises as a clearly distraught mother with extremely tired features and disheveled hair balanced him on her hip. He was trying to indicate a pale purple house elf, whose round nose had blown up to over the size of its head. Clearly, she was having trouble standing upright, as her nose kept threatening to send her falling flat on her face. The father had laughter in his eyes and equally mussy hair, as he seemed to survey the seen with amusement. "That's my boy," the young dad said under his breath, but loud enough for his wife to turn with a scolding smile and a passing woman with chestnut locks to overhear. Jenny felt a pang in her heart, and had to pick up the pace.

"No, Mr. Lockhart, you've got to come back," a nurse scolded as a man about Jenny's age surrounded by women walked by. The women seemed practically to be dragging him along, and the man had a oblivious smile on his face.

"But my fan club's here," he protested mildly, turning to one of the women. "What are you fans of mine for again?"

Jenny approached, the name wringing in her ears. The man turned to her with his goofy, beaming smile. "Hello. Are you here for my autograph, too? I keep signed copies with me."

Her frown even unnerved the giggling crowd enveloping him. "Gilderoy Lockhart?"

He looked puzzled, then looked at the nurse. "That's me, isn't it?"

Her hands were pulling the collar of his throat before he could utter another word. "Bastard," she breathed. "Eberlee, five years ago. Where you supposedly bested the vampire legions. Do you have any idea what you did to Mary Heckel? She lost the memory of her brother, the love of her life- how the hell could you make a career of that? And insulting her harelip- that's just cruel!"

"Sorry," he said puzzeldly. "What exactly am I being sorry for, again?"

She stared at him, releasing the neck of his robes. Her eyes jerked to the nurse. "He a patient?" she asked, shocked, as she jerked her thumb towards him.

"Yes, of our permanent ward," said the bewildered nurse, taking the opportunity to yank Gilderoy away from his fan club.

Her head jerked oddly. "Tortured?"

"No, a Memory Charm backfired," the nurse said calmly, as she led the man away from his pleading fans.

"Somebody beat me to it, then," she said under her breath. "Pity. I'd have liked to do it myself."

"Pardon?" the Healer questioned.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing. Ah, I was wondering, are Alice and Frank Longbottom still in that ward?"

The woman sadly smiled. "Yes. Are you a friend of theirs?"

"I was," she said simply, following her up the stairs. Some friend, her conscience said. Haven't been to visit them in fourteen years. She shook her head as if she could send the thought away. She'd done all she could. Nothing left could help them. She'd spent a portion of time investigating all avenues of that.

Jenny's piercing eyes took in the dingy room, noticing the places where someone had clearly attempted to brighten it up with flowers and a picture. But the light itself seemed darker here, and a weighty sadness hung in the air. She even allowed herself to feel sorry for Lockhart, having to live here.

"Right that-" the woman began.

"I know where they are," the witch responded quietly, heading towards a curtained off area. She had, after all, been the one to bring them here, having rushed over to the Longbottoms' house early in the morning hoping to work on the appeal for Sirius' trial Frank had agreed to help her with. Instead, she'd found.. She shuddered, brushing away the memory. They'd been ranting, out of their minds at the time. She's never forget it.

Stepping in, she turned to the sad, diminutive figures, one on the bed looking half dead and the other wandering aimlessly around the area. "Hello, Alice, Frank," she choked out, a sob rising in her chest. Neither turned to look at her or showed any sign of recognition, reminding her of the many things worse than death.

Jenny slowly walked up to the pacing woman, catching her hand gently. Alice, her once blond hair now a halo of pure white, whimpered like a child and looked at the other woman dully, none of the laughing life in her eyes. Her face was drawn and worn, brown eyes faded and blank, and all her pretty plumpness had gone, leaving her a frail skeleton. She reminded Jenny of a undernourished bird, hunching slightly and tilting her head. She chewed a piece of bubble gum at a regular, steady rate, and clutched a pile of wrappers tightly in her hand. A wave of sorrow washed over the other woman. As a girl, Alice had chewed gum often, getting scolded in classes, the only offense she ever committed to earn the only detention she'd ever gotten. She'd quit it as she grew older, deeming it a bad habit and too immature, only rarely enjoying a piece. As always, she'd stuck to her word, and completely outgrown it. That, certainly, was not something she could control anymore. Jenny couldn't help but cry out slightly. Alice could have passed for her mother.

"Oh, Ally," she cried, using Marlene's childhood nickname for Alice Anderson. "It's me, Jenny. Do you remember me?"

The other woman looked at her blankly. Her hand felt childlike and wispy in Jenny's hand.

"We went to school together," Jenny babbled, coming close to tears. "With Marlene, and Callie, and Lily? Remember? And the stupid loveable gits who used to call themselves Marauders? We fought against the Death Eaters together, Alice." She paused, looking into the woman's deadened eyes. Last she'd seen her, she'd been whimpering, and screaming, names Jenny knew and recognized, things that could be deemed semi-rational, although clearly insane. This odd silence unnerved her. Seeing an old friend like this was worse than anything she'd encountered on all her escapades. She couldn't have beared to see Sirius if Azkaban had made him anything like Alice and Frank were, although it sounded as if he'd managed pretty well.

Glancing between Alice and Frank, she wondered if they even recognized each other, if the people they had been were utterly gone or if they were still buried in their somewhere, unable to answer.

Alice pulled away, walking over to a window and absently plucking the petals off a potted flower.

Frank made a slight, almost grunting noise, and Jenny whirled at him. Wrinkles lined his features, and although it was hard to tell with him lying down, his great height looked to have crumpled. His waves of brown hair had become white and slightly thinning, his face terribly long and thin. All his youthful, boyish looks had faded into the features of a much older man. He'd resisted the longest, Frank, hadn't really begun to snap until Lestrange and her cronies began to torture his wife. When she'd found him, he'd been raving, which had terrified her. Frank had been a very private, quiet man, an older boy who had a sweet shyness about him. He'd been the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, nothing incredibly unusual about him but his sweetness and strength of character. He'd been a Gryffindor, through and through, Frank. How couldn't he be, with that old battle ax of a mother?

"Do you remember, Frank?" she asked him quietly. "Anything at all? Gideon Prewett, he was one of your best friends? Robert Johnson? Sturgis Podmore, any of them?"

His dull eyes, once so keen, blinked wearily at her, perplexed. He tilted his head slightly in her direction and wrinkled his brow. Well, at least he seemed less mad than poor Alice. Frank had always been rather silent, contrary to his talkative wife, and it seemed less unnerving somehow.

She gestured towards Alice. "Your wife, Frank, do you recognize her?" Nothing changed in his features, and she took that as a probable no. Sighing, Jenny slipped into a chair by the bed. "You were a hero, Frank, you really were. Neither of you deserved this. You should have been allowed to go out in a blaze like good old Gideon. Not like this.. They caught you sleeping, Frank, do you remember that? They never even gave you a chance. Jeez, you two would've taught Bellatrix something, if you'd gotten to your wands."

"Who are you?" a voice came from behind her, both suspicious and curious. She jumped about three feet out of her chair, toppling it over.

"Bloody hell," she breathed, then grinned. "Scared me. Boy, would my mates love to see that. I'm usually pretty unflappable." The smile faded slightly as she faced the source of the voice, a young boy clutching a vase of flowers. He was slightly pudgy, with a round face, a sharp nose that looked recently healed, and big brown eyes. He had a look of stubborn determination mingled with curiosity on his face. Alice's face.

"You're Neville!" she said, surprised to run into to him and more shocked she was able to recognize him, having only seen him a few times as a child.

His features turned upward slightly, wary yet curious. He seemed about to speak when a woman Jen recognized stormed in, wearing a large vulture hat that had been quite fashionable back in Jenny's mother's day.

Her sharply defined features and silvery hair poked out from under the hat's shadow. Her eyes, the same as Frank's, scanned Jenny's face.

"I know you," Neville's grandmother said cautiously as her gaze trailed Jenny's face, memorizing each line. The younger woman vaguely remembered Alice complaining that her mother-in-law never forgot anything she did wrong, as she had a photographic memory.

"Guineviere Philips?" Jenny offered tentatively. "I-I was a school chum of Alice's." Neville's eyes widened, and he turned to his grandmother for confirmation.

Mrs. Longbottom smiled warmly, breaking her usual frosty demeanor. She stepped forward, extending one gloved hand. "Yes, Guineviere. Juliet Philips' daughter, correct?"

Jenny nodded, shaking the woman's stiff hand.

"You were the one who went after the attackers, weren't you?" the other woman said in sudden memory, glancing at the two pitiful figures behind them.

"Yes, ma'am," Jenny said calmly, ignoring Neville's startled gasp.

"Always with the Evans girl, correct?" the woman said, scrutinizing her. "I believe I'd heard you were dead. It seems the report was greatly exaggerated. What brought you by to visit my son and his wife?"

"I'm here with the Weasleys," she responded, "and I wanted to take the time to stop by and pay my respects to them."

"The Weasleys?" Mrs. Longbottom said, frowning slightly. "Did something happen?"

Jenny's eyebrows shot up. "You haven't heard? They were attacked this morning, along with the Woods."

"Any casualties?" Mrs. Longbottom said, her lips pursing into the concerned look she'd worn constantly during the first war.

"They got Elizabeth Wood, and I heard her husband's been.injured. Two of the Weasley brothers were hurt as well, but they'll be all right," Jenny said tactfully, trying to avoid mention that Elliot Wood had been tortured.

"Which Weasley brothers?" said Neville worridly.

"Fred and Bill, though Bill's much worse off."

"Ron's okay? And Ginny?"

Jenny nodded immediately, surveying the boy. He'd taken far more after Alice than Frank, just in appearances, but his temperament didn't seem like either of them. Alice would be babbling a mile a minute by now, and Frank would have stormed out without asking to find out the condition of his friend.

Mrs. Longbottom paused, glancing between her son and grandson. "I'll have to make a call to Maura Stebbins. How devastating, to lose her second child. Wait here, Neville, I'll be back shortly." She floated out, her dress trailing on the floor as she hustled outward.

Neville sat in a chair, face tired as he set the flowers on a tiny night table designed to hold magazines. "She'll be a while. Gran spends a long time when she makes a fire call."

Jenny sidled in across from him, watching him intently. "A boy I knew had a theory that was a girl thing. Guys seem to make it much more brief."

He watched her with more than mild interest. "You knew my mum? I mean, you don't look-" He flushed red, glancing between his mother and her.

"We were in the same year, and both in Gryffindor," she answered. "We weren't very close, but we got on well enough."

He looked glumly over at his parents. "Gran says my dad was a model son. She's embarrassed I'm not more like him." He scuffed his feet on the floor. "I'm a terrible wizard. Practically a Squib," he said contemptuously, glaring at the vase. It shattered magically, and he jumped.

"Sure," she drawled in response. Perhaps that was once true, but she doubted it was anymore.

"I won't get expelled for that, will I?" Neville said nervously, staring at the broken shards.

"Nah, the Ministry's got bigger fish to fry. Ron and Ginny had to use all kinds of magic to defend themselves last night, and they haven't so much as gotten an owl yet. I'd bet my life Amelia Bones is trying to put the rule on an emergency hiatus. It's what they did during the last crisis," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Bloody stupid rule, if you ask me. If I'd followed it, I'd be dead about ten times over. 'Course, we had a bit of trouble drilling that into Frank's head. 'But it's illegal!' Honestly," she laughed. Neville gaped at her. He'd never heard anyone mention his parents that way.

"Frank was a pretty good guy," she mused, winking. "But by no means perfect. Nobody really is. He was a brilliant Auror, very trustworthy, and er, stout of heart. He could be a bit thick sometimes when it came to breaking the rules- your gran had him wired pretty well for his first few years, according to an old pal of mine. A few Ravenclaws cured him of that pretty quick- and so did your mum. She had him sneaking out to the Forbidden Forest with her by his last year. Not that he could ever resist her! Alice was great, extremely outgoing, always happy." Almost unnoticeably, her eyes trailed the woman across the room, and she realized they were still alive, although she spoke of them in the past tense. Jenny paused. The girl Alice had been was long gone.

"They were smart, though," said Neville, eyes suddenly looking more hopeful.

She chortled. "Which subject?" At his startled expression, she assured him, "Oh, we were all awful at something- my personal peeve was Herbology." She twiddled her thumbs with a mock sigh. "Everything I touched died!"

"I'm good at Herbology," he informed her shyly.

"Alice was decent at it, too," she mused, "though Frank was horrid, worse than me, which is really saying something. And hell, you should have seen him with Potions! He wasn't in my year, of course, but Alice used to tutor him in those two, and he'd help her with History of Magic and DADA. It's how they got to know each other. One time, he managed to blow up a couch in the Gryffindor common room with a sleeping potion! He was horrified, of course- even more humiliated when a quartet of boys in my year borrowed his 'formula' and spent a good month blowing everything up."

"My dad was bad at Potions?"

"Terrible."

"Sounds like me," Neville said wryly, looking rather tickled with pleasure at the fact that he shared a vice with his father. He'd need many more fingers to count all the times he'd been sent to the hospital wing from a potions accident. "He was brave, though?"

"To the point of recklessness."

"I wish I could be that brave," he sighed. "According to Gran, he wasn't scared of anything."

A wicked grin lit up Jenny's face, looking over at Frank. If he'd been able to, she guessed he'd have urged her to tell his son. "Well...there was one thing.."

"James, you are never, ever, ever, picking headquarters again," Alice swore vehemently, glaring at her fellow seventh year.

"Not your place to decide that," he said smugly. "It's great, isn't it Padfoot? ... Padfoot?"

Sirius looked about in distaste. "My mother would like it, Prongs. My mother would like it." As everyone knew, that was the worst insult Sirius could possibly bestow.

"Lily?" he said, offended, turning to his girlfriend for support.

She looked about the dusty mansion, trying to be polite. "It's very…big."

"And pink," Frank added with disgust. "Pink, Potter. What possessed you to pick a house decorated pink?"

"It belonged to some Squib's aunt," James said, indignant. "She had very powerful wards around it and Dumbledore highly recommended it as a possibility."

"She's also been dead fifteen years," Remus stated calmly, glaring at his friend. "I am not staying here for a week, James. I told you that when I offered to let you pick this time after Moody suggested I do it."

Alice smiled at the ceiling, looking less disgusted "Oh, look, there's little cherubs."

The boys all looked up, terror on their faces, expecting some horrid mural. When they realized nothing was there, they shot her dirty looks.

"This place is a filthy wreck, and we're expected to stay here?" Peter said, speaking up and surprising everyone. He was only reiterating what the others had said, but he usually wouldn't defy James. Maybe Wormtail was developing some backbone.

"Are you mad?" Jenny said suddenly. "Are we witches or not? Lil, the color."

Lily, suddenly beaming, performed a complex charm, the color of the walls becoming a tasteful cream. "Too bad it's not so easy to clean it," Lily said, eyeing all the areas they'd have to handle one step at a time. James shrugged. It wasn't like they'd be staying long enough to bother. Easter holidays were hardly more than an extended weekend; they'd have to back in school soon.

"Ladies," said Frank gallantly, "your coats?" Lily handed him her trench coat, and Jenny shrugged out of Sirius' oversized dragon hide jacket he'd lent her on the way over. Alice had opted not to where one, so it was especially nice of the graduate to offer. Selecting a closet door, he stepped inside- only to immediately back out with a startled shout.

James immediately was at his side, wand drawn. "What?" he snapped, his natural command entering his tones unconsciously.

Frank's face was slightly pale. "Enormous rat in there, mate. Filthy thing, three feet large at least."

"Rodents of Unusual Size? Didn't think they exist," Jenny mused.

Her sometime boyfriend nudged her. "ROUSes? They don't."

"But-" Frank stammered, pointing at the closet.

Impatiently, Alice pushed her way through, then opened the door, stepping slightly inside. She instantly backed out. "Boggart," she said automatically, beads of sweat on her pretty face.

"How'd you know?" Peter asked, all of them giving him looks of 'you idiot' at the comment.

"Frank, clearly, isn't dead," Alice retorted, calmed as she rejoined her boyfriend.

"Frank's scared of rats?" James and Sirius chorused, evil grins erupting on their faces as they looked at Wormatil, who didn't catch on.

Frank looked at Alice, oddly. "Wait. Your worst fear is my death? Me? Does that mean you-"

Turning red, Alice bustled off towards the kitchen, and Frank had the distinct feeling that if he were to look at the boggart again, it might be something slightly different.

Sirius sharply inclined his head towards Wormtail, gesturing to the right with a jerking nod. Peter didn't catch on, looking at him blankly. Black made little scampering motions with his hand. Wormtail's eyes widened, and he shook his head fervently. Sirius gestured even more vehemently, and with a resigned groan, the other Marauder slunk behind a curtain.

Remus had opened the closet fully, and a small white orb drifted in front of him. "Ridikulus!" he called, and a small cow floated over the moon, and the craters formed a face which stuck out his tongue. Jenny and Lily laughed while Remus guffawed at his creation, and the boggart faded in a wisp of smoke.

Peter chose that moment to rush out as a rat, scampering about Frank's feet. Longbottom jumped with a loud yelp, then, cursing, drew his wand and began to send hexes flying at the creature. Wormtail dodged nimbly, looking very nervous

Sirius, before Frank could do any more damage, stuck his foot out and pushed the rat gently off to the side, whistling innocently. Frank trembled slightly, with fury. "I know you did that, Black."

"Who, me?" He waited for James' approving smirk, and looked slightly peeved his friend had failed to notice.

"The boggart's already gone, James," Lily snapped.

"But there's others," he pleaded, a curious look in his eye. "C'mon, Lil, what are you most scared of? Could it possibly be.losing me?"

"Shove it," Lily said, indignant. James had only recently become her boyfriend, and he still could irritate her on a moment's whim.

"If it's not me, then why don't we go see what it is?" he said, eyes alight. A house like this had to have more than one boggart wandering around.

Sirius snickered. "Yeah, you should talk, Mister I'm-scared-I'll-miss- the-snitch."

James whirled, eyes firey, nearly knocking his glasses of in his jerking movement. "That was second year! And what about you, huh? Slimy, scaly, cloaked dementors!"

Sirius, taken aback, shuddered. "Hey, dementors are scary. Unlike, say, rats," he laughed at Frank, who looked warily about for the rat. As Peter had just reentered, he was unlikely to find it.

"They're fast, ugly, and they carry diseases," Frank said sniffily. "And if you must know, my cousin thought it would be funny to unleash a whole box of them on me when I was sleeping as a young boy."

"Why didn't we ever think of that?" James wondered, turning around. "Where'd Lily go?"

"Kitchen," said Sirius, jerking his thumb where the redhead had dragged her best friend off to without a word. "C'mon, I'm starved."

"Think we can bribe them into making something for us?" Frank said hopefully, knowing none of the girls would be willing to do so.

Sirius looked pained. "Hell, no. Have you ever tasted Jenny's cooking? I'll be making the food, thank you very much."

"Hey! I heard that!"

Naturally, Jenny could only tell Neville a very condensed version, not wanting to bring the Marauders into it.

"Rats? Really?" He seemed bemused. "They are creepy little things, I guess. They never frightened me, though." The boy seemed proud of that.

"You'd get that from Alice, then," Jenny said with a nod. "She liked all creatures, even the gifts I'd get from Hagrid- and you'd find it easier to like Snape," she chuckled.

"Professor Snape?"

Her hand shot to her mouth. "Oops, shouldn't be disrespecting a teacher in front of a student. Yeah, the bozo was in my year. Slytherin slimeball."

Neville looked surprised, and blushing, lowered his voice. "When I was learning how to fight a boggart, it turned into Snape. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at the time, Professor Lupin, suggested putting him in my grandmother's clothes. I haven't been as scared of him since!"

Jenny laughed, loudly. "That's great! Moony must have found that hilarious. Lupin went to school with me, too- actually, he's here right now, asleep upstairs. I'll tell him you said hi."

"You know everybody, don't you?" Neville said shyly.

"Hardly," she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Only a few people I know are still alive, anyway. Lupin's about the only friend I've got left- except for your parents, of course," she added hastily.

Neville only looked down, demonstrating tactfully that he knew perfectly well his parents were worse than dead. "I'll kill her," he said quietly, almost imperceptibly. "I'll kill her for doing this to them."

"Bellatrix?" Jenny asked, frowning. "You'll have to beat me to her. I should have killed her when I had the chance."

Neville's head shot up, chin determined. "When did you have the chance? Why didn't you kill her?"

A small sigh escaped her lips. "I wish I had. I'm the one who caught her, you see. I went after your parents' attackers, with Alastor Moody's help. Others were looking- but I found them first. Our minds work..similiarly. I knew her at school, and I knew where she'd hide. I defeated her..I had my wand at her throat..and I couldn't kill her. An important difference between us- I couldn't kill in cold blood. So I knocked her out, and turned her in- didn't think she'd ever escape. If I'd been able to..a good friend would still be alive."

"The man who fell through the veil?" Neville wondered.

A pair of footsteps and a loud voice talking to a nurse sounded down the hall.

Jenny nodded, thinking back to what Fred and George had told her hours ago. "Right, you were at the Department of Mysteries. Must be quite the duelist. I bet your grandmother's proud of you."

Neville blushed and scuffed his shoe against the floor. "I've improved a bit, I guess. I'm not that good, though- I lost my wand pretty soon. It was my dad's too, all ruined now. Gran's proud, I guess, but it's hard to tell since she was so upset I broke it. We were on our way to Diagon Alley, actually, to get me another one. It's not safe to go the whole summer without one with V-V-You-Know-Who around."

"Yeah, him," she said unhappily. She stood up from her slouched position in the chair, right as his grandmother turned the cornor. "I better be going, kiddo, people will be wondering where I am." A lack of bounce was visible in her step, and she seemed weighted down and a bit older.

But before she'd taken three steps, Jenny paused, just as Mrs. Longbottom stepped inside the curtained off area. Reaching into a pocket she'd forgotten about, she swiveled and tossed it, right at Neville.

The boy, surprised, managed to get his hand up and caught the slim stick rather accurately, with only a trace of a clumsy fumble.

"Go on," she said, smiling. "Give it a wave."

He flicked it, and a stream of gold emerged from the whitish wood, swirling about him in sparkles. His mouth opened like a fish's, and Mrs. Longbottom looked equally surprised. Neville had never had such good results with his father's trusty wand.

"Keep it," she told him casually. "Gryffin feather and olive branch, nine ¾ inches. Very old wand. I picked it up recently, but don't really have any use for it. If you're going to Diagon Alley anyway, stop in and show it to Ollivander- he'll get a kick out of it." She winked. "Tell him Jenny Philips gave it to you."

"Guineviere, that's far too generous!" Mrs. Longbottom protested, her face twisting between a frown and a smile.

She shrugged. "Not like I have any use for it. Use it well- I've got the feeling it'll suit you." As she jogged lightly away, she seemed to almost float, the bounce returned.

Meanwhile, Fred and George jumped in terror as a strange ringing noise came from somewhere around the room. Healers skittered away nervously, but the two boys looked around for the source.

Bbbbrrrriiiinnnnggg!

It came again, from near Remus' head. The boys approached cautiously, studying the jacket he was resting on. The werewolf slept right through the noise. Fred, with a jerk, tugged it out from Remus' head, as George dropped a water pellet on his head to wake him up. Gallons of water spurted over his head as Lupin jerked awake, soaked and grumpy.

Fred was examining the coat. "Have to get one of these," he commented, feeling a bulge in the jacket pocket. He tugged it out, finding a small, strange silver box shape. He flipped up the lid, and saw a display of numbers and words. He frowned. He'd seen this before. "Hey, George, I think this is a tellytone!"

His brother ogled at him. "Fellytones have cords, though, don't they?" he said wisely, thinking of the strange objects his father had cluttered about their house.

Remus, dripping on the carpet, snatched the device from the twins. "It's a telephone," he said bitterly, glaring at them out of sleep-deprived eyes. He hadn't used one of these in years, certainly not one without a cord. Squinting at it, he pressed the talk button and raised it to his ear.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in England?!" a voice blared, sounding infuriated and heavily Irish.

"Er." said Remus uncomfortably.

The voice paused, discontinued its tirade, and said menacingly, "Who is this?" Before Remus could answer, the voice made another demand in its thick brogue. "Where's Jenny? What did you do to her? Why the hell do you have her cell?"

"Cell?" said poor Remus, utterly bewildered.
An exceptionally large barn owl chose that moment to come flying straight through the grass, shattering the window. It dropped the letter straight onto Fred's head, then gestured its talon indicating it wanted to be paid.

Fred rummaged in his jeans and pulled out a Knut, which he handed the bird triumphantly. Offended, the bird hooted, dropped the Knut, and began to dive bomb the twins. George, hurridly, swooped up Disapparting Darts and began chucking them at the bird. When that falied, he began to pick up a Skiving Snackbox, thought better of it, and used another water pellet. Waterlogged, the bird's efforts to pluck their eyes out diminished.

Abruptly, Jenny sauntered into the room, freezing at the sight. She raised her wand quickly, bringing a net out of nowhere which enveloped the bird completely, bringing it to the floor. Stalking over to Remus, she grinned at him and mouthed something.

"What?" he asked, lowering the phone.

"Who is it?" she asked calmly.

He shrugged. "Some lunatic guy trying to talk to you."

Her grin faltered. "Drew or Fitz?"

He looked at her blankly.

"Stiff American or an Irish chap?" she clarified.

"Definitely Irish," he said. She smiled again, relieved, and took the phone. She didn't even want to know how her friend had gotten this number.

"Fitz?"

The voice on the other line calmed. "' Ello, darlin. Whatcha doin' in England?" She could practically see his waves of medium brown hair, his sharp chin, and slantingly narrowed green eyes, always suspicious of everyone. A slight note of jealousy entered his voice. "Does this have something to do with that ex of yours? Whatsis name."

"Something to do with him," she interrupted, voice pained. "He's dead."

"Ah, Jen, I'm sorry," he said genuinely, feeling awful. "Back for the funeral or something?"

"I wish," she murmured. "Voldemort's back, Fitz."

"WHAT?"

"Yep."

He swore vehemently. "The old bad 'un, eh? Jeez. Jeez! Want me to call in the calvary?" he said, referring to his rough and ready team, which worked in association with Jenny's organization.

"Nah, better to hold out for back up. You're not far if I need you," she said, smiling slightly. Remus recognized the smile, one she reserved for Gideon Prewett and Sirius in the old days.

"Which reminds me- Roger called saying he was sending your stuff." Her cringe was practically audible. "I know, I know, I'll try to intercept it. Bye, then, Jen. Careful, now," he warned her. "Don't want you dead."

"Lovely," she drawled, and he laughed and clicked off.

Remus eyed her, feeling rather protective of Sirius, even though he was gone. He should have realized- it wasn't like they'd been a couple, and it wasn't like Sirius had been dead, rather jailed, thought possibly guilty of a terrible crime. He realized she must have had some relationships, friendships. After all, it had been fourteen years- and Jenny was far more outgoing then he. "Your, ah- boyfriend?"

She wrinkled her nose, surprised at the thought. "Er, sometimes. Rather, he was. We couldn't really manage a relationship, you see. Both too different, and stuff. Plus, Sirius..." She paused, uncomfortable, it unitentionally clear that the specter of their relationship had long hung over head, and probably still did. "Fitz- Doyle Fitzgerald, that is, he's a great guy. We were friends first, and we still are."

"He sounded batters to me," Remus commented, shaking water from his hair.

She laughed at once, and he stared at her, wondering what could possibly be so funny. "It's just-" she hiccuped, her upset combining into hilarity "-he's a vampire, and he abhors that whole turn into bat myth."

"A vampire?"

"C'mon, you're one to talk," she chided. His look was still concerned. Unlike werewolves, vampires were plagued by their inner monster constantly, with a thirst for blood. No more immortal than Remus, vampires had their weaknesses in three things; the sun, which burned them terribly; water, which at cold temperatures felt to them incredibly hot while perfectly bearable when heated; and a reaction to certain types of wood the same way werewolves were averse to silver. Come to think of it, vampires weren't big on silver themselves. These weaknesses had caused ridiculous Muggle legends to spring up about them, believing such nonsense as only stakes could kill them. In return, vampires retained a youthful look, even in old age, an incredible strength akin to Remus' as the wolf, and powerful senses, including smell, which made them wary of odors like garlic. Their pale pallor from lack of sun and thirst for blood caused Muggles to believe they were 'undead', which was utter nonsense. They appeared totally normal, though they could transform at will, teeth lengthening and eyes becoming like those of an animal. A bite from a vampire in that form made more vampires, just as among the werewolf, though in both instances the victim rarely survived to become one. Many, of course, managed to live normal lives, abating their thirst with provided animal blood and snacks like Blood-Flavored Lollipops. The majority, though, like the occasional feral werewolf, went wild, rampaging and murdering. Jenny, clearly, kept dangerous company.

"You'd like Fitz," she said, after an awkward moment. "He deals with it very well, really- maybe even better than you." Under his whithering stare, she furthered her explanation.

"Well, he doesn't do that whole isolation, needless guilt thing you put yourself through ever so often. You put a lot of pressure on yourself. He's a wizard vamp, most common type, and he's organized a whole squad, all trustworthy. Not that I don't realize the danger of that- believe me, there was a whole army in America, adding to its ranks from teenagers. Stupid Muggle kids, romanticizing the whole business," she added, with a shake of her head. "Fitz is a bit wild, though. Ever so often, he comes close to crossing a line. Takes everything as bit of a joke. Crazy guy acts like he's a teenager, and he's two years my senior."

"All your boyfriend's nuts?" Remus wondered, remembering Jenny had always had a penchant for 'bad boys' who weren't as bad as they seemed. She shrugged in response as he continued. "Padfoot wouldn't appreciate my saying that, but he was, after all. Gideon Prewett-"

"Not my boyfriend," she said touchily, an old subject. "We went to a few- places together, that's all. We were just friends."

Maybe, thought Remus, but Gideon was mad about her. Just didn't realize it until she was taken...

"Oh, shut up," she said irritably. "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong."

"Sorry to interrupt this fascinating conversation," said Fred, finally plucking the letter from where it nestled in his hair. George, who'd been trying to give the bird Sickles, relented and choked up a Galleon as payment. The owl, satisfied, shook what it hadn't shredded of the net off and flew out the shattered window. Fred handed the letter to Remus, who wiped his wet hands on the couch before grabbing it.

He ripped it open and studied it, looking worried. "Order business. Meeting at headquarters, two hours." He groaned as the boys picked up the shredded envelope. Along with the names of the adults, the intended recipitent read Messr. and Messr. Weasley in flowing script.

The twins grinned wildly at each other. It seemed they'd be attending their first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

Jenny, on the other hand, looked worried. Apparently, she'd have to face her uncle sooner than she'd thought...