A/N: A huge apology for the delay in writing this chapter: my only excuse is that I've had three exams to practice/study for in one week! The thanks are at the end, as before, but a quick thanks to all the reviewers and readers. This chapter is a marathon, in an attempt to make up for the delay. It jumps around a lot(just to let you know)! Hopefully, you'll like it - enjoy!


'Thursday November 2nd 1996

The Daily Times

Countrywide Disappearances:

Who's to Blame?

By Olivia Ridge

Throughout the country, panic has been spreading, as various different citizens, with no apparent connection are 'disappearing' into thin air – only for their graves, apparently from years ago, to be later found. The latest victim of this mysterious syndrome is one Mary Horridge-'

"Even the muggles are noticing, sir," Oscar Quibb, junior secretary to the newest Minister of Magic – Rufus Scrimgeour, stood trembling. "And the Prophet's just sent a letter," he handed this to the Minister with a sense of foreboding, the typical flamboyant purple ink of 'The Prophet' scrawled all over the letter. "They say-"

"I know what they're saying Quibb." Scrimgeour replied coolly. "Strangely enough, I'm capable of reading. How much do they want?"

The young wizard swallowed, feeling as though his head lay on an imaginary chopping block. "1000 Galleons."

Scrimgeour massaged his brow. "Get onto it, Quibb, immediately. If there's a hint of these goings on, I'll know who's to blame. There's enough hysteria already - we don't need anymore."

"There's also that report from the Department of Mysteries, sir." Quibb withdraw a more sombre looking document from his briefcase, his palms sweating, almost leaving grease marks behind on the parchment.

For the first time since Quibb had entered the room, Scrimgeour glanced upwards, locking gazes with Quibb, his eyes calculating. "Oh really?" He snatched the paper from Quibb, who jumped back in shock. Scrimgeour scanned the opening page briefly, before he seemed to remember Quibb's presence; immediately snapping the dossier shut, and fixing his gaze once more upon his junior secretary, before frowning at his incompetence.

"Well? Is there anything else?"

Quibb shook his head rapidly, his jowls quivering both through fear and the speed of his shakes. "I'll need Fudge, Quibb."

"Fudge, sir?" Quibb asked, without thinking. "Whatever for?"

Scrimgeour fixed Quibb with a withering glare. "To do his job." He replied waspishly, as Quibb sensing that heads would roll soon – specifically, his – backed out of the room, with a polite mumble of, 'Yes sir, of course.'


November 2nd 1976

"Potter, Lupin." McGonagall stood primly at the entrance way to Dungeon five, her arms folded and lips pursed – her mood was evidently particularly sour. "Clean yourselves up," she sniffed, "and come straight to my office afterwards."

James straightened abruptly, stretching backwards as McGonagall left. "Wonder what this meeting's for?" he asked aloud, throwing his scourer with a Chaser's perfect aim into a nearby cauldron.

"I have a pretty good idea," Remus murmured, withdrawing his wand gratefully to clean both himself and the cauldrons – who'd known that the third years could botch a potion so thoroughly?

"What is it Moony?" James asked after a momentary pause, picking at a piece of green slime with one finger. Remus' head shot up, and belatedly, James remembered why it probably wasn't such a good idea to call Remus by his nickname. "Sorry - Remus. So what is it then?"


Peter knelt on the floor, rubbing the nearest trophy with a dirty cloth, absentmindedly polishing the words 'Service to the School' repeatedly. Sirius stood at the other end, and Peter could almost sense him moving restlessly, even with his back turned to him. He felt a strange kind of triumph, of sorts, although he was as much an outcast as the others – but better an outcast than a traitor, like Sirius.

"Wormy, do you have the time?" The tense silence that had hung across the entire proceedings thus far was broken, as Sirius spun round.

Peter glanced at his watch, giving it a quick shake. "It's half-past eight, I think, Sirius. Why?"

Sirius winced slightly, almost imperceptibly, throwing down his cloth. "Shit." He muttered. "We're late."

"Late for what?" Peter asked, scrambling to his feet, the blackened cloth lying limply in his hand. "Late for what Sirius?" he repeated, trailing after Sirius across the room.

"A meeting with McGonagall." Sirius replied without turning round, striding slightly faster, weaving in and out through the trophy room, and slamming the visor down of a suit of armour that attempted to trip him up.

"Oh," Peter glanced at his watch again, giving it a hopeful rattle – it still read eight thirty; no such luck. "That meeting." You never knew - one day Sirius might be back in favour – it paid to keep in with the influential, even the fallen influential, Peter thought – it might benefit you in unexpected ways. The door slammed, marking Sirius' exit, and Peter broke into a lumbering jog, opening the door with a call of "Wait for me!"


Hermione and Lily were forced to quick march Dorcas down the stairs in order for them to get to the meeting on time – both Hermione and Lily were surprised that they had been invited, but had soon deduced that Dumbledore would prefer them to receive the details first hand, as opposed to a garbled report from Dorcas - needless to say, Dorcas' objections to going to this meeting were both loud and prolonged.

Thank Merlin they only had to three floors to travel, Hermione thought, as Lily led them through a shortcut. She'd had enough of hexes, jinxes, dark mutters and glares thrown her way to last her a lifetime, but at least this time – as opposed to her first year – there were more them involved, and therefore the curses were spread more thinly – and it wasn't as if Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were upset – on the contrary, they were over the moon.

Tripping over a loose stone, she barely regained her balance in time, clutching at the statue of Deliah the Diabolical, who screeched profusely, and tried to punch Hermione in the nose.

"Why do we have a statue venerating a traitor in the school?" she muttered through gritted teeth, rubbing her nose and hurrying after Lily and Dorcas, the latter of whom was struggling to suppress her giggles.

"I don't know!" Lily snapped, "But I do know we're going to be late!"

Hermione glanced at Lily, startled by her display of temper, before shrugging it off – the strain of recent events was affecting them all. Dorcas looked taken aback, her giggles ending abruptly – her only reaction to pull a face at Hermione before they both hurried after Lily who had stormed ahead.

"You're late girls." McGonagall said haughtily. "I would dock points but in the circumstances…" Her voice died away, as she refrained from pointing out what every member of the room knew – was there any point in docking further points from Gryffindor when they were so far in the red anyway?

"We're sorry," Lily babbled, flushing, whilst hastening to find a seat – she hated, Hermione had learnt, more than anything, to let people down; the two were very similar in that aspect. Dorcas sat mutinously, resolutely saying nothing.

"Sorry Professor," Hermione was about to launch into an explanation of precisely why they were late, when Dorcas sent her a disparaging glare – she wanted to redeem herself, was that so wrong? "We had some difficulties on the way down here." she finished lamely, thumping down onto a seat, disheartened already.

"Very well." McGonagall sniffed. "If we aren't going to waste any more time, I'll begin. The Headmaster," She punctuated the word with an irritated emphasis, whilst simultaneously flicking her wand towards the door, the lock clicking and casting various protections on the room, all whilst talking. "Has decided how we may embark, after that fiasco. For some reason, he has decided, that it is perfectly possible, for both of you," she gestured towards Dorcas and Remus, "to transform together on the full moon."

James sat up bolt upright, a mixture of outrage and shock mingling on his features. "But Meadowes isn't – she can't be- Sirius mentioned the possibility but – no –" he flinched, as the realisation dawned on him fully, the blood draining from his face in horror. "Bloody hell." He finished, utterly horrified.

Remus hadn't told him? Hermione was surprised and yet, unsurprised – it was entirely unfair of Remus to keep them in the dark about something like this, but she understood his reasons for doing so – even if she didn't agree with them. Her features betrayed her sympathy, but fortunately, none were looking in her direction – no one here appreciated the emotion.

McGonagall bit her lip almost imperceptibly, wrestling with the impulse to say something. When it seemed she'd mastered it, she spoke. "Potter-" her tone was comforting and she hesitated on the verge of continuing in that manner, but something in her eyes changed. "Would we be discussing the arrangements as such, if it were otherwise?" she remarked icily.

"No." James muttered rebelliously.

"So," Hermione rushed into the gap, after the silence became prolonged. "How does Dumbledore plan to do this?"

"Potter, Black and Pettigrew, along with myself, shall transform." McGonagall replied, her voice softening slightly. "He believes that Remus' presence will make it easier for Dorcas."

"Animagi." Dorcas mouthed, making it plain to any who had misunderstood, precisely what McGonagall had been talking about.

Hermione raised an eyebrow – having devoured reams of books on the subject in her third year, she had already spotted a potential flaw in this plan, one she was shocked Dumbledore hadn't addressed. "But Professor," she interjected. "How can you possibly guarantee that Remus won't attack her or at least chase her away? He won't be in his right mind – it's a complete gamble!" she grimaced apologetically at Remus, her previous anger with him abated – Remus blinked - stunned - at her for a second, before turning away stiffly.

"That," McGonagall looked on at Hermione, half-impressed, half-aggravated. "Is where Black comes in."

"How?" Hermione asked, glancing over to the corner where Sirius skulked. "I mean it's not as if-" her voice tailed off, as she realised precisely where this was heading. "Is he – is Black the pack leader?" she asked, focussing her gaze on her Professor, whose reactions, in this turmoil at least, were the easiest to anticipate.

"Well done Miss Granger." McGonagall said, flicking an almost imperceptible glance towards Sirius, who was trying, and failing to avoid everyone's gaze.

"But-" Lily spluttered, echoing Hermione's thoughts. "- How is that possible?"

"You'll have to ask Black that yourself." McGonagall said primly, casting another contemptuous look towards Sirius, who muttered something unintelligible under his breath, before taking a deep breath.

Sirius paused, about to tell McGonagall that she could bloody well tell them herself, when his head twinged painfully. He quickly told himself it was nothing, but the pressure increased, weighing down on him, and his chest throbbed, straining to continue its work, pumping the blood around his body, keeping him alive; he almost thought his ribs would crack under the pressure – the Unbreakable Vow was certainly having an effect. Sirius took a deep breath, acknowledging it – he would help her, wouldn't he? The pressure lessened somewhat, enough for him to talk, and Sirius took advantage of the lack of pain, rushing the words out.

"It was that night," he began grudgingly. "And I had to run away after I'd distracted Re - Lupin,"

It was difficult to explain for him to explain – things were different from an animal perspective, strange to put into words, but he managed as best he could (it wasn't as though he had a choice in the matter). "After you deprive a werewolf of it's prey, they aren't exactly happy, so I ran into the woods – and led Re – him round, and when I saw an opportunity, I ran for it, back towards the Shack, and when Peter let me in, I sprinted for the Shack, but when I reached it – he was a the foot of the stairs, and I – my human self didn't know what to do, so I just followed my instincts."

There was a long silence after he'd finished, tense and distracted, with both James and McGonagall frowning thoughtfully. "So that was why you – he" James rephrased his sentence, and a look of hurt flashed across Sirius' face, but was well hidden within the next moment. "Couldn't transform back."

"He couldn't transform back?" McGonagall's head snapped up immediately. "What do you mean Potter?"

James faltered, but Sirius tore in the gap angrily. "Could you at least not talk about me right in front of me?"

"Black!" McGonagall snapped crossly.

"Well considering everything you've done-" Lily began furiously, jumping to her feet.

"Is this really any of your business?" Sirius retorted.

"It's definitely my business – it's my friend who was turned into a werewolf!"

"And what gives you the right to interfere?"

"Just like you did!" Hermione couldn't keep silent any longer. "It's not like Remus asked you to become animagi!"

James stood furiously. "Just because you wouldn't do the same-"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Hermione rounded on James.

"You know exactly what that means! Just because you and Evans couldn't break a single rule to help anyone-"

"Shut up!" Hermione's blood pounded in her head, and she advanced on James furiously. "You don't have a clue what you're talking about – just shut up!"

"Considering we're deceiving the Ministry by just being here, I'd say your point's null and void Potter." Lily interrupted superiorly.

"Enough!" Remus broke into the argument, with a livid expression. "D'you really think that arguing is going to help anything?"

"I don't give a damn about who's to blame anymore," a quiet voice, quite unexpected, added. "As far as I'm concerned, we're all to blame."

Every person swivelled to face Dorcas, who sat in the corner – not angry, not uttering profanities or death threats, not even waving her wand around – it was most unlike her. "What?" James was stunned, as was every one else.

"Look – d'you think this happened because of one thing? Yes – Black told Snape how to get down there, but Snape didn't have to go down there, did he? He chose to! Hermione shouldn't have run outside. I shouldn't have followed her." She gestured to each person in turn. "We shouldn't have followed Snape-" she noted the impatience in their faces, as she hurried on. "What I'm getting at is that it's not just one person's fault. Yeah, I'd like to curse Black to hell and back, but then I'd have to reserve some curses for the rest of you, and myself, and frankly, I can't be bothered. Now," Dorcas finished, with an air of the teacher calming their unruly students. "Could we please, get on with this meeting?"

A ghost of a smile flitted across Sirius' face, which Dorcas caught. "That doesn't stop me saying fuck you Black."

No one spoke after Dorcas' tirade – they were all absorbed in their own thoughts and realisations. McGonagall was the first to recover, clearing her throat and drawing the attention back to herself – Hermione thought of Umbridge with a smile. "That was most unexpected Dorcas," she began, "But not entirely inaccurate," and Hermione, looking on at McGonagall, saw something like pride in her eyes. "Now, the charms on the Shack are currently-"


November 5th 1976

"Bloody hell!" Dorcas swore, rubbing a shoulder, which throbbed, the skin underneath her shirt an angry red – she'd walked too close to the Whomping Willow, and had subsequently been walloped by a branch. "You do that every month?" she asked Lupin, who walked ahead of her, stiff and obviously torn between anger and hurt.

"Pretty much," Remus replied, without turning round, his voice bitter, leading the way down the corridor, with the others following – McGonagall had insisted that Remus showed her the Shack as 'to see what he thought of it' and most probably to get both Remus and Dorcas talking to one another; and Remus had somewhat reluctantly complied.

Dorcas shuddered, eyeing the walls of the tunnel apprehensively, her eyes running over every crack and crevice in the wall. Clutching her arms tightly enough to bruise, she forced herself to speak, to distract herself from the underground, "What's – what's it like?" she asked nervously.

"What's what like?" Remus asked distractedly, his voice tight and his hand running along the edge of the tunnel, sending small cascades of dirt streaming down the sides of the tunnel.

"What's it like?" Dorcas repeated, placing the emphasis on it, her face draining to a wan colour as she watched the small dirt piles accumulate as Remus ran his hand along the wall.

"It? Oh." Remus seemed at last to understand what Dorcas was hinting at. "It's – I'll talk you through it when the time comes." He was trying his best to be comforting, Dorcas could tell, but there was a dark undercurrent in his voice that threatened to overwhelm it.

"That's really not helpful." She returned shakily; and for the first time, Remus glanced back, shaking himself as he noticed Dorcas' discomfort.

"Sorry, I'm just a little-"

"Tense?" she supplied, regaining some of her old bravado.

"Distracted was the word I was looking for." Remus smiled half-heartedly. "It's just with Sirius and everything…it's a little, awkward."

"Mhmm." Dorcas replied tightly, biting down on her lip to avoid snapping at him – why couldn't he just talk?

"It'll happen slowly," He began; painfully slow to say each word, chewing each phrase, mulling it over before saying it. Dorcas got the impression he was mentally remembering each transformation – at least, he winced whilst saying it. But it was better to know beforehand. "Your senses will adjust, your hearing, smell – everything. Sight's the last thing to go. And then," He grimaced involuntarily. "You'll – it's – it's not pleasant, suffice to say, but it's over quickly." He hurried on, as if realising that this wouldn't comfort Dorcas in the slightest. "You won't feel it or remember it when you're a wolf – and when there's no blood lust, it can sometimes be okay."

Dorcas raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Well," Remus amended quickly, "It's not so bad. Have you told your parents yet?" he asked. Dorcas flinched, flushing red. "I'll take that as a no." Remus muttered, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, which Dorcas shrugged off, irritated, and unwilling to receive the sympathy – or as she perceived it; pity.

"Why the hell would my parents want anything to do with me?" Dorcas muttered, slowly flushing an angry red – how dare he be so presumptuous, how could he ask her that of all things, at a time like this? "Who in their right bloody mind would want a werewolf for a daughter?" her voice was slowly rising, a heady mixture of anger, fear and hurt, a bubbling combination of everything she'd felt but was unable to voice. "It's not exactly a bonus in life! It's ruined everything I've ever wanted! It's not fucking fair!" she pounded the floor hard with one foot, scuffing her foot against the ground furiously, taking her anger out of the dirt – she needed to take her anger out on something!

Remus stared at her, taken aback by the ferocity of her anger, but he knew her well enough now, to press his advantage – regardless of the consequences, if he wanted anything out of her. "It's got to be more than that." He remarked quietly, shifting so he could meet Dorcas' eyes. "It can't just be that you're afraid of telling them. That's not you – you're a Gryffindor to the bone, beanpole." He used her detested nickname in the way a friend would, with no malicious intent. "What is it that's stopping you telling them?" he asked.

"Don't you think that I've had enough of bloody probing questions?" Dorcas retorted, ducking her head to avoid Lupin's gaze – he made her feel inexplicably guilty. "What?" she snapped, glaring at him, suddenly, attacking wildly in her own defence like a wild animal.

Remus regarded her with a strange expression, torn between sobriety and amusement. "You don't have to-"

"You're not going to leave it alone are you?" Dorcas sighed, watching him – he remained silent under her scrutiny, and her anger, as hard as she tried to cling to it, melted away. "You're like a dog with a bloody bone." She muttered, scuffing her shoe against the dirt again. "Fine. Alright. I just-" expressing her feelings articulately was more difficult than she had imagined. "I don't think they'll understand." She began at length. "And that's not just it. I don't know, I get the feeling, I just know, that if I told my parents, their reaction wouldn't be what I'd want it to be." She glanced sideways at Lupin, who walked next to her, his face carefully schooled to be expressionless – he knew her entirely too well – if she perceived an emotion she didn't like in his face (to be truthful, any at all) she would change the subject. "My Mum'd explode – she'd want revenge on everyone involved, especially you and Dumbledore. She wouldn't want to keep it quiet."

"And you do?" Remus asked, with a note of surprise. Dorcas looked at him confusedly.

"Of course I do you moron. Do you really think I wasn't this thing splashed all over the bloody Prophet?" Dorcas gave him a look, which clearly stated the degree of his idiocy.

"Carry on," Remus urged her, and Dorcas reluctantly continued – she was more than willing to drop the subject – she disliked the confessional air the conversation had gathered.

"My Dad's the total opposite – he wouldn't want to turn it into a big affair, but, he's quite…" Dorcas searched for the right word, not wanting to put her father in a poor light. "Conventional - he wouldn't dream of deceiving the authorities. He'd tell them in a heart beat." She knew that her efforts were failing to put her father in a better light were failing miserably, but she was quickly losing the inclination to do so. "I don't even understand why he'd want to! I'm his only daughter for Merlin's sake! Surely that counts for something!"

Remus remained silent, depriving Dorcas of an object to vent her ire on. "Fuck it. Fuck it all." She strode ahead of Remus purposefully, determinedly ignoring him – he'd succeeded in bringing out all the fears she'd successfully avoided in the past few weeks, and thanks to him she was buried in emotional turmoil. She didn't want to deceive her parents – what kind of person did? – but over her dead body would the Ministry find out about this. She wanted to lead a normal life – explore the world, take a job wherever she wanted, without having to fight every step of the way – was that so wrong? Not that she wouldn't fight if necessary – she wasn't a shirker, and she wouldn't abandon anyone – ever. Why couldn't everyone else be the same?

She heard pounding footsteps, and someone clutched at her arm. "You think you're the only one who's ever worried about what people think? Do you think that you're the only one who's ever been afraid?"

Dorcas shook him, off, spinning, angry words rising to the forefront of her mind, already forming a retort, when she saw him. Remus' face was bloodless, but his previous lethargy had vanished and it stopped her in her tracks, whilst Remus continued his rant. "I've been patient Dorcas – more than most people, and in case you've noticed nobody is trying to hinder you! We want to help you, but you won't let us!"

"I-" Dorcas tried to interrupt, but fell silent at Remus' glance. "I don't know what you want me to say!" she raised her hands in apology. "D'you want me to compose an essay outlining everything with a long grovelly apology at the end – what do you want me to do?"

"Just," Remus hesitated momentarily, but rushed into the gap before Dorcas could. "Just, stop being so angry at everyone. I mean, Merlin knows you have the right – but do you need to exercise it constantly?"

Dorcas was taken aback momentarily, before she thought of a reply. "What about you?" she asked craftily. "What about you and Sirius?"

Remus hesitated for a second before asking darkly, "What about him?"

Dorcas looked at Remus, frowning contemplatively. Before now, before this had happened, perhaps even at the beginning of all of this, she would have condemned Black in a heartbeat. It was entirely his fault this had happened, she would have said, cursing him to the worst of fates, and she would have wished to stand over his bloodied corpse – that was what her anger was like, but now on reflection…her anger was tempered, restrained to a lakeful of blood instead of perhaps an ocean – but could Remus feel the same?

Black had betrayed his trust – Remus' greatest curse and secret, and Black had betrayed that, with terrible consequences and in his place, Dorcas would have vowed never to forgive him, ever – but Remus greatest curse had shaped him, made him who he was, and that person was not her – she wasn't a Lily or a Hermione, desperate to intervene, to smooth away all the worries of the world in one fell swoop.

"He betrayed you," Dorcas replied, after a brief pause. "And if I was standing in your shoes, I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive him."

"You're probably the first person to have said that." Remus smiled crookedly.

"I'm just saying, don't let James or any of the others push you into forgiving him – even unconsciously – it's not fair." Dorcas said, crossing her arms, mentally adding not to mention you'll resent them for it for the rest of your life and it'll mean stuff all.

Remus squeezed her shoulder. "Thanks."


November7th 1976

The one ray of light, as far as Dorcas was concerned, and a heavy thundercloud on the horizon for her friends, was the upcoming Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match, and it seemed to be the only thing that had kept the members of Gryffindor house from ripping them limb from limb – the prospect of winning the Quidditch Cup. It was just as well the team had practiced like demons before that night – as they had taken to referring it – or the team would have been in seriously deep trouble, as Lily mentioned at the breakfast table that morning, whilst casting an eagle eye on Dorcas, whose plate Hermione was slipping sausages on to whilst her back was turned.

"Are you still planning to go through with this?" Lily leant forward on her elbows, gazing at Dorcas, who was nervously picking at her plate, but looked up at Lily, shocked, before her eyes narrowed.

"I am," she replied around a mouthful of beans, which she swallowed, draining a mug of pumpkin juice. "Don't bother to try and dissuade me – besides then we'd have to substitute Falkenham in."

"What's wrong with Falkenham?" Lily asked confusedly, thinking of the slender fifth year boy, whose physique was possibly better suited to Seeker than Keeper. "He can't be that bad!"

"He's atrocious," Alice joined the conversation, with a wince. "Falkenham couldn't stop a quaffle if it was charmed to fly at him for all eternity. Besides," she continued, "Dorcas will be fine – we'll only end up jinxing her ourselves with all this worrying!"

"Alice!" Hermione was shocked at Alice's idiocy. "She's still recovering from – well, I agree with Madam Pomfrey, it's ridiculous for her to be playing today!"

"I feel fine!" Dorcas glared at Lily and Hermione, "And I'd thank both of you to stop fussing over my health like old mother hens! Anyway, the biggest problem today'll be the rain."

"Rain?" Hermione and Lily exchanged puzzled glances – the ceiling above reflected a light blue autumn sky, with a few clouds gathering at the edges. "What rain?"

"Oh," Alice rolled her eyes expressively, pouring the milk onto her cereal absent-mindedly. "Captain Potter had a half an hour talk explaining precisely why this match couldn't last more than five hours – seems there's a remote chance of a slight spot of rain."

"A little bit of an over exaggeration Alice," Dorcas said with a wry, if tight, smile, prodding a piece of bacon tentatively with her knife.

"Us reserves don't have to pay attention," Alice grinned half-heartedly.

"You'd better eat something," Hermione said, attempting to keep the nagging tone out of her voice and failing miserably. "You're going to need it."

"I'm not hungry." Dorcas pushed her plate away, looking green around the gills and with a glance down the table towards James, she stood. "I'm going to go down now, ok? I'll see you down there."

Lily looked to protest, but Alice laid a hand on her arm. "Good luck Dorcas – you'll be great," Alice said, with a cheering grin.

"Good luck beanpole," Lily wished, giving Dorcas a half-hearted grin, as did Hermione, "Good luck Dorcas!" she called towards her retreating back, as the post owls swooped in. Hermione searched the hordes for Enid's owl – Seanán - not particularly hopefully, but she scanned the hall hopefully, ignoring the owl, which plunged into the cereal bowl on her right, spilling milk all over the tables.

As it was, Seanán didn't arrive until a few moments before they set off before the match – and she barely restrained herself from tearing it open – the odds that someone else might read it strengthened her self-resolve, and she thrust it in her pocket for later, as they hurried down to the stadium.

The morning, whilst cloud-free, was still bitterly cold, despite the sun shining down brightly and Hermione couldn't help but remember the other times she had spent at the Quidditch pitch – gnawing her nails nervously as she watched Harry and Ron fly, praying that nothing would go wrong and covering her face every time someone hit a Bludger at them – she'd avoided the Quidditch pitch thus far for that very reason.

Jostled along by the crowds, Hermione struggled to keep up with Lily and Alice, ducking and sliding past people, the odd Gryffindor she jostled glaring at her with venom, except the first years, who jumped out of her way, as if the house's anger was contagious – Hermione thought that the only possible benefit of the match would be that a victory would prevent the house from being so angry.

It seemed that Lily and Alice had saved a seat for her, and she squeezed along the row to get through to them gratefully, as the pitch filled with tumultuous applause, the players striding onto the pitch, red and gold meeting blue and bronze.


Dorcas couldn't suppress a grin as she strode out onto the pitch, her previous nerves abated, although the odd stray butterfly might have quivered once or twice in her stomach. Her opposite – the Ravenclaw keeper – was a beefy, heavy set sixth year called Phillip Carlyle, who had once hit the Quaffle so far out from the goal that it had soared all the way across the pitch, and scored a goal to boot – fortunately, Dorcas wasn't quite as bad a keeper that she would let in a goal like that.

"Potter, Archer, shake hands," the new coach – Madam Hooch – said briskly, and the two captains shook hands quickly.

"Mount your brooms-" Dorcas swung a leg over her broom, "On my whistle-" she bent her legs, ready to push off as hard as possible on the whistle – if the Ravenclaw chasers got the Quaffle before she got there, well, the consequences wouldn't be pretty – but she was a pro at this now, no need to worry. "Three-two-one-"

Dorcas uncoiled rapidly, pushing off the ground as hard as she could, desperate to gain elevation – these first few seconds of the game were always so tense, and in a few seconds, the balls would be released…

"And they've released the balls!" The commentator announced - a fifth year Hufflepuff. "Of course, the favourites for this match by far are the Ravenclaw team-"

This last remark solicited a large amount of boo's and hisses from the Gryffindor end of the stands, and Dorcas grinned – in Quidditch, Gryffindor was united – "Shit!" a dark blur sped past her, grazing her skin and making her wobble on her broom – bloody Bludgers! She had to keep her head in the game!

"Ok Professor," the girl sounded completely unabashed. "Ravenclaw Chaser – Orion Astin – has the quaffle and is streaking up the pitch, the Gryffindors are just allowing him to slip through! Approaching goal-"

Come on Dorcas, you can do this – Orion was making for the far left goal, and Dorcas was half-tempted to cover that instead but no – no, he was a typical Ravenclaw, and that meant double, even triple bluffing. Right or left – right or left? She had a split second to choose, was Astin feinting or not? As his arm curved back she struck out for the far goal, her arms outstretched – this had better be the right choice – it could set the entire tone of the match – please, Merlin, let me have chosen the right side!

"And by some misfortune Orion fails to score – obviously Gryffindor's daddy longlegs of a Keeper Dorcas Meadowes, has proved that having long legs really does help in this game!"

Cow – her grating voice set Dorcas teeth on edge, as she hurled the ball out to Potter, who caught it neatly, rolling to avoid a Bludger – the Ravenclaw Beaters had good aim – "HEY FABIAN!" she yelled. "TRY STEALING THE BLUDGER OFF THOSE BLOODY BEATERS!"


James gripped his broom tightly with his knees, in a roll, desperate to avoid both dropping the Quaffle and falling off his broom in mid-air – it was a difficult move, but he'd mastered it – he shot forwards unexpectedly, the Chaser about to tackle him falling behind and James couldn't help but grin as Dorcas screamed "TRY STEALING THE BLUDGER OFF THOSE BLOODY BEATERS!" - but a glance back told him that the Ravenclaws were regrouping – a shot of pain jolted his arm as a Bludger clipped his elbow, and he almost dropped the Quaffle – he chucked the ball to Kirsty Vance, who sped off at a terrific pace –

"Gryffindor in possession - Vance has the ball – a new find of James Potter's, let's hope she lives up to expectations – Vance passes to Morrison, who fumbles, almost drops it, Ravenclaw's gaining on them, c'mon Ravenclaw put in a tackle! – He flips it, but Potter catches it, speeds ahead, he's heading for the goal - lets see if Carlyle's up to fighting form-"

Could he do this? – He had to – the team – Gryffindor, depended on it, Come on Potter that voice whispered in his head, Come on Potter you can do it! The world was narrowing down, focussing on that one point and yet broadening, he was aware of all his surroundings – where the hell did that Bludger come from? – Carlyle loomed ahead, big, bulky, practically blocking all three goals at once - he'd have to get past that?

"ARE YOU BEATERS OR NOT?" He roared at Gideon Prewitt. "DO ME A FAVOUR AND HIT THE THINGS!"

He was fast approaching the goal, with Vance on his left for support, but he had to do this, he had to redeem himself-

"And the Gryffindor Beaters finally manage to get a hit in! Keeper Carlyle looks like he's having difficulties – Gryffindor shoot – Carlyle blocks…Gryffindor score! So Gryffindor are now ten points to zero, but Ravenclaw can still pull back-"

But there was tumultuous applause from the Gryffindor end of the stadium, easily drowning out the commentary – James took off again as Carlyle hurled the Quaffle back out – this was not going to be an easy game…


Hermione could barely force herself to watch, as Alice danced around screaming with joy as Gryffindor scored, "We scored, we scored!" Alice cheered, capering madly but Hermione could only cringe.

"Ravenclaw's beater – Poole – puts in a beautiful hit, and Chaser Potter drops the ball – Ravenclaw take possession, and they're streaking down the pitch – they're really on form today – Astin to Johnson, who just takes off with the ball and she's really making tracks down the pitch, Johnson reverse passes to Astin, who flips it – what's he doing? – Caught by Handle, who ducks a bludger –"

"Urgh," Hermione shuddered as the Bludger connected with the Ravenclaw Chaser – Isabel Johnson. "I hate this!" she muttered.

"Johnson has the Quaffle again – she's really going for it – and she shoots, Keeper dives – she scores! Ravenclaw and Gryffindor now draw – ten points each and everything's in it for this game!"


The game progressed quickly, Gryffindor were up by twenty points over Ravenclaw's sixty, if they could just maintain this lead – what the hell was Erin playing at? Couldn't she catch the bloody snitch already? Dorcas cursed as the Ravenclaw trio shot up the pitch towards her, approaching quickly, passing the ball quickly in a favourite move of theirs, and it looked as though Handle would be the one to shoot, off the right hand goal, but she reverse passed it to Astin – Dorcas groaned through gritted teeth – which way would he choose? – He shifted sideways, seemingly aiming for the right hand hoop – the Gryffindors were screaming at her to cover the hoop, but she saw his body twist at the last minute – another bluff! – She threw herself in front of the middle goal, as the Quaffle left his hands – had her intuition paid off?

Thank Merlin! The Quaffle soared neatly into her hands, and she caught it with a triumphant grin – the Gryffindors below her cheering, forgetting their animosity in the intensity of the match. A hurl of the ball to Vance and the Quaffle began its flight to the other end of the pitch – the Ravenclaw Chasers in pursuit – What the hell?


A gasp emitted from the Gryffindor stands, as a Bludger smacked straight into Dorcas' chest. Dorcas was flung backwards, but managed – by some miracle – to stay on her broom, but her face had turned a sickly shade of white. "FOUL!" Alice shrieked, along with the rest of the Gryffindors.

"FOUL!" Hermione joined in, looking furiously for the Ravenclaw Beaters – how dare they injure her further?

"And the Gryffindors are desperately calling the foul – Meadowes doesn't look too good. And yes, there's the whistle, the penalty's gone to Gryffindor – Morrison takes it and puts it in neatly – Gryffindor are leading, ninety – sixty."


"How are you Meadowes?" James swooped across to her, ignoring a Bludger that shot past his ear. "Can you play on?"

Dorcas' chest throbbed – she felt as though a tank had run over her, followed swiftly by several herds of elephants. "I'll be fine," she croaked, rubbing her chest one-handed, swaying slightly. A grinding sound – nails on a chalkboard – rasped out. "I just feel like an elephant decided my chest'd make a brilliant new couch – I'm fine."

Potter gave her a sceptical look – exasperated. "I think I should call for a time-out," he muttered, "You can barely stay on your broom – how the hell are you meant to stop goals?"

"I'm fine!" Dorcas insisted, clutching at the broom ineffectively – trying to suck in a deep breath, but catching short as her chest was constricted tightly. "Fuck," she whispered, her voice gradually rising to an embarrassing squeak. "Fuckety, fuck, fuck fuck – ow!"

Potter looked concerned. "HOOCH?" he yelled, flying towards Dorcas, steadying her on the broom. "MADAM HOOCH?" he shouted, more respectfully as the referee flew over. "Can we call a time-out?" he asked, gesturing to Dorcas, who felt her chest muscles fluttering, and her breathing getting shorter. "My Keeper's injured."

Madam Hooch gave Dorcas a once over, who sat bolt upright on her broom. "I'm fine," she gritted out. "Honestly." Potter flashed her an irritated glance.

"Don't listen to her, she doesn't know what she's talking about," Potter said tightly, preventing a swaying, sweating Dorcas from falling off her broom – Dorcas wanted to punch the idiot, but couldn't as her attention was fixed on staying on her broom, and not fainting.

"I'm-" Dorcas broke off, her constricted chest preventing her saying anything more – grinding with her every movement, it felt unbearable, the pain burning white hot.

"A time out then, Potter," Hooch nodded, before blowing her whistle loudly three times.

"Gryffindor have appealed for a time out," the announcer informed those unaware of the meaning of those three blasts. "Perhaps Gryffindor's Keeper is in a little more trouble than previously thought – and maybe not as brave!"

"I thought Hufflepuffs' were supposed to sweet and nice," Dorcas grumbled incoherently. "That one's a right little cow."

"Tell me about it." Potter grinned, as Kirsty shot over from the other end of the pitch, Morrison following more slowly. Dorcas kept a wary eye on the Prewitt brothers. "Where's Erin?"

"Already there." Kirsty pointed towards the stands, her movements short and staccato as she helped steady Dorcas. "What happened? I heard the commentator, but she's about as useful as rabid hippogriff."

"Bludger." Dorcas forced out, a heavy sheen of sweat coating her face – and she could feel a headache gnawing at the back of her head, throbbing painfully.

"Oh." Kirsty pulled a face. "Ow. C'mere you bloody stupid bugger." She looped her arm round Dorcas' shoulders, steadying her as they landed – Dorcas didn't miss the look of relief on Potter's face. "Why in hell did you let it hit you?" she asked cheerfully.

"I didn't let it hit me." Dorcas said through gritted teeth. "I just didn't see it coming."

"Well that was stupid." Kirsty grinned – her sympathy, as a member of the team, who took knocks herself, was limited.

"Thanks." Dorcas replied tightly, one hand wrapped around her broom handle, the other on Kirsty's shoulder, as they reached the pitch floor. Dorcas unwrapped her hands from the broom, but as she tried to lift her leg over, she fell.

"Fuck!" Dorcas shrieked, as Kirsty caught her, hauling to her feet, with Morrison on her other side – who quailed as Madam Pomfrey dashed over, whilst Kirsty merely rolled her eyes.

"Sweet Circe," Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath, conjuring a stretcher. "I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, letting you play at a time like this! I'll be giving him a piece of my mind when I see him," she continued, pulling out an orange concoction. "This'll get rid of the pain," she informed them, fixing Dorcas with a stern glare – Dorcas immediately swallowed it down with difficulty, spluttering and choking.

"Don't be such a baby," Kirsty told her, sitting on the grass beside the stretcher, their broomsticks wrapped under her arm to prevent their escape. "It can't taste that bad."

"Take it yourself." Dorcas muttered, flinging out a hand in a futile effort to hit Kirsty, who simply laughed, moving out of range.

"I think I'll pass," Kirsty smirked, clambering to her feet, as Madam Pomfrey moved further towards the pitch edge.

"How is she?" Potter asked, striding back over towards them.

"She," Dorcas replied testily, as Madam Pomfrey volleyed healing spells at her. "Is fine, thank you very much and would appreciate your addressing her."

Kirsty snickered at James' consternation – he was never particularly good with sick women, but he had certainly improved – in the end he just laughed. "I take it you're feeling better then?" he asked with a grin. "Ready to play?"

"You couldn't stop me if you tried Potter!" Dorcas grinned at him, attempting to stand up, as Madam Pomfrey pulled her back down abruptly.

"You are not playing again, Dorcas Meadowes – don't think you are for a second." Madam Pomfrey looked livid. "You've been entrusted to my care, and by Merlin, I am going to look after you! I should never have agreed to let you play in the first place!"

"I am playing." Dorcas announced archly, trying to stand again, as Morrison elbowed Kirsty, who had let out a yelp of a laugh. James fled, presumably to talk tactics with Gideon and Fabian Prewitt – or possibly to yell at them for not stealing the Bludger off the Ravenclaws – Dorcas hoped it was the latter – it would give her a laugh, and if they'd had the Bludger none of this would have happened! "Madam Pomfrey," Dorcas tried another tactic. "I'm perfectly fine now and I feel just fine – if I promise to be careful-"

"You are not going anywhere Miss Meadowes!" Madam Pomfrey snapped – evidently Dorcas' tactic had fallen flat on its face. "Yes I am!" Dorcas retorted, as Morrison slapped his hand over Kirsty's mouth in an effort to suppress her ever present giggles.

"Nine minutes." Erin announced, sidling over to them.

"Where've you been?" Kirsty asked her indignantly.

Erin flushed and whispered something in Kirsty's ear. "What?" Kirsty asked, a grin slowly spreading over her face.

"What?" Morrison asked, desperately curious.

"Oh nothing!" Kirsty announced loudly, causing Erin to blush more deeply, and stand on Kirsty's toe – hard, judging by Kirsty's yelp. "Git!" she squawked.

"I am going to play." Dorcas stood firm – well, on the subject at hand, as opposed to literally standing firm – as it was she was a little woozy.

"You are not." Madam Pomfrey had progressed to angry beyond belief.

"Hasn't Dumbledore or McGonagall got the final decision though?" Morrison pointed out, from a safe distance. Dorcas smirked triumphantly.

"Couldn't we ask them then?" She asked, trying and failing to conceal her victorious smirk.

"Fine." Madam Pomfrey frowned reluctantly. "I'll just get her." She stalked away, back stiff. Dorcas breathed a sigh of relief, plopping to the ground with a sigh.

"Not so good then?" Kirsty grinned, before resuming her squabble with Morrison. Erin sat down next to her composedly.

"If she tells him I'll kill her." She announced calmly.

"Tells him what?" Dorcas asked, rolling onto her side.

"Oh – I split my trousers." Erin flushed again.

"Ah." Dorcas said tactfully, as they lapsed into silence. "How come you haven't caught the Snitch yet?" she teased, watching James rip into the Prewitt brothers.

"I think Archer's eaten it," Erin sighed gloomily. "It's not anywhere."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Dorcas grinned, "D'you reckon we'd have to keep playing until it passes through his system?"

"Aw gross!" Erin shoved her, but because she was so slight, the effect was minimal.

"I know." Dorcas sat up as Pomfrey returned a deep scowl on her face. "I think I'll be playing," she added happily.

"Just as well," Erin murmured, "'Cause we have about a minute until the time out's over."


"Is she ok?" Hermione strained to see over the crowd, desperately worried – despite the fact that her team didn't seem worried in the slightest.

"I think so," Alice replied, "At least, she's been arguing with Madam Pomfrey – if she's well enough to argue, she's well enough to fly."

Hermione bit her lip, sitting down again as the referee blew the whistle, and the teams scrambled to their feet. "I hope so." She murmured.

"Same here." Lily said, staring at Dorcas intently.

"Bugger!" Dorcas swore, as the Quaffle slipped past her fingers, and into the goal behind. "Bugger!" she swooped down to catch it, cursing heavily – she'd been cocksure, damn it!

"What's the score?" she called to Kirsty as she chucked the ball to her.

"One hundred and twenty to one hundred and ten!" The announcer saved Kirsty from answering her question.

"Score some bloody goals." She whispered, rubbing her chest - it was slightly sore, not that she'd ever let anyone know. What was Erin doing?

Erin scowled at Archer, her opposite number – evidently his tactic was to stalk her until she stole a Beater's bat and pummelled him with it – he was pushing his luck, the lazy sod, and driving her insane in the bargain, either blocking her every move or marking her so closely she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Still, she thought with a grin, maybe she could use this to her advantage – if he really wanted to follow her…she yanked her broom up, forcing herself to rise naturally, slowly, gaining height steadily – at about ninety feet, she paused, levelling out, forcing herself to pretend to sweep the pitch for the snitch, but it was nowhere to be seen – she was sure Archer had swallowed the damn thing!

He was following her, she was sure of it. Erin suppressed a nervous smirk – if she could pull this off she'd be thrilled and Archer would have grass up his nose. Not to mention alive. She gave herself no time to let her nerves overwhelm herself, instead plunging into a steep dive – with Archer following.

"It seems the Gryffindor Seeker has seen something!" she could hear the vague gasp of the crowd, but all her surroundings had blurred into a messy torrent of images – she focussed on her downward acceleration, gripping her broom tightly, as the wind whipped at her, tossing her hair around crazily.

She wanted to look back desperately, see if Archer was still following her, but at this speed she'd be torn off her broom. The ground was approaching quickly, but she pushed the broom still faster – thirty feet – twenty feet – fifteen – ten -

She yanked out of the dive at the very last second, pulling her broom upwards – Archer was not so lucky. He pulled out of the dive before he crashed, but went careening off his broom, and slid across the stadium grass, coming to rest half a centimetre away from the barriers. A job well done – Erin allowed a triumphant grin to spread across her face, as the Gryffindors cheered her.

"Holy-" The snitch was hovering just four feet above Archer's head, who blinked woozily. Erin swore, flying towards him manically – Archer's eyes bugged. Closing her eyes, Erin stretched her hand out, grabbing the snitch as she flew over Archer's head, before crashing into the stands on the curve next to him.

"WE WON!" she screamed triumphantly.


November 8th

Gryffindor had won the match, two hundred and seventy, to Ravenclaw's one hundred and ten – at least Gryffindor was happy again – they were now in the lead for the Quidditch Cup. Sirius scowled, kicking a step – his treatment in the house had improved, but his friends…James would speak to him, but neither mentioned what happened through an unspoken agreement. Peter was his usual quivering self, but Remus; Remus avoided him whenever possible, and barely refused to acknowledge him.

"Shit." Sirius kicked the wall again.

"Black." A curt voice said.

"Snape." He replied, trying to keep his voice civil, and barely managing – he already longed to curse him – how in hell could he keep up this polite veneer? "How are you?" he managed, suppressing a shudder – why the hell had he agreed to that Unbreakable vow? He was a moronic idiot.

"Cut the crap Black – neither of us want to be here, really do we? Now," he proceeded with as much distaste as he could throw into that one word. "Here's the list – tell Dumbledore I've done my work."

"Sniv-" Sirius swallowed, glancing down the list that was revealed when he tapped it. "Snape. You can – you have to keep working." He suppressed the urge to punch the superior little sod.

"Says who?" sneered Snape. "I see no-one here to enforce it."

"Dumbledore," Sirius hurried out, through gritted teeth, feeling the familiar pain in his chest. "Will enforce it."

There was an electric silence. "I suppose." Snape looked at Sirius disdainfully, with an angry undertone. "I know who I'm doing this for – and it's not for that old man. I'll keep doing this Black, if only for them."

Snape was careful, Sirius could see that – but why Dumbledore would want to consort with that piece of filth, he didn't know.

"Alright," he replied levelly, his fists clenched – luckily thinking that he wanted to curse the living daylights out of Snape didn't seem to count. "Until next time Snape."

His method of communication with Pen hadn't taken long for him to figure out – the two-way mirrors. With a security spell, and several nasty little jinxes for the unwary, Sirius had sent it to Pen via an owl – her reply merely being a cursory note, telling him she'd set her password. Well, more than cursory – merely one word – and he was sure Pen and Dumbledore were conspiring to embarass him throughly, but Pen assured him that the odds of someone guessing it were slim to none - and that he shouldn't be saying the password in someone else's hearing anyway.

He took the mirror out resignedly.


Dear Hermione,

This letter has passed through several hands to reach you unread by Ministry officials. A friend organised the chain, but I've still got to be cautious in case.

Sorry I wasn't able to let you know a lot in the last letter - I passed on the note at the time, but you wanted a quick response. However, the person you wrote to has now received your letter – I can't tell you how successful it's been yet, but I'll let you know if news comes. At any rate, he made interested noises as he read it.

I got rid of the pests – didn't take me too long – but it's got a little worse – still, I'm holding on. Hopefully everything's going well for you at Hogwarts – the thing in question is for the friend I met over the summer right? That's nice of you. I suppose, now, you may as well do as you please. Just be cautious – and enjoy yourself. Don't worry about me. I'm doing well.

Love

Enid

PS. Are you staying at Hogwarts for Christmas or coming here?

PPS. Do the usual thing with this letter.

Enid blew at the ink on her letter, satisfied with its contents – hopefully, the Ministry, if they intercepted it, wouldn't understand it at all. She slipped it inside an envelope, sealing it afterwards – she'd hand it onto Marlene later.

It had taken her under twenty-four hours for her to disable the probe – its preliminary defences were it's only defences, and once cracked, she had dismantled the probe within minutes – perhaps she should've been a curse breaker. Enid smiled, at that thought, but tensed, remembering what had happened next – the Ministry had sicced a tail on her, joy of all joys. It was irritance, nothing more, as the man was the greatest incompetent she'd ever seen.

She'd delivered Hermione's letter to Belby personally – he was in her Department anyway. He'd seemed receptive to its contents – it hadn't made much sense to Enid, but then again, Potions weren't her speciality. She was glad Hermione was happy; she just hoped that whatever changed in the future would be good. It hadn't taken her long to figure out Remus Lupin was a werewolf – she'd seen the symptoms often enough, and heard about them to, listening to various figures in the Ministry and reading books on the subject – it had terrified her at first – repulsed her even - but as she got used to it – she'd realized he was a nice boy – he'd saved Hermione's life – what right had she got to judge him on that one account?

Paying no attention to what she was doing, Enid almost swore as she realized she had spilt her coffee over, and it was rapidly staining her later a dark shade of brown, the ink running. "Crap!" she dabbed at it crossly, before siphoning it off – there were some advantages to being a witch, it seemed.


November 16th : Full Moon

Hermione hugged Dorcas tightly after Lily, wishing she could go with her – help her, but she couldn't. She could only stand here and watch as Dorcas slipped underground, following McGonagall, who, whilst uncharacteristically comforting, was no match for the comfort she felt she and Lily could offer her. Alice wasn't supposed to know, but the girls had decided that they would have to tell McGonagall that Alice knew - Dorcas needed them all tonight – and had informed her – and so Alice had come, hugging Dorcas so tightly, they thought they'd have to prise her off Dorcas with a crowbar.

She glanced to the west, where the sun hovered just above the horizon – soon she knew, it would set, and Dorcas would begin that awful transformation. She wished it had never happened - Merlin how must Dorcas be feeling?

Lily pulled her away gently, tugging on her arm, leading her away – they couldn't linger – and as they began to walk away, the spell on the tree began to fade, as it writhed and flailed in fury at their escape. Hermione knew they couldn't stay – couldn't attract attention to the tree, but still – she craved to turn back and hold Dorcas, comfort her, tell her she'd be fine – and she had to go through that tunnel beforehand, when she was claustrophobic. Hermione swallowed heavily, resenting the fact that there was nothing she could do. If only she could stop the sun from setting, or lop off part of the moon and prevent it ever being full – to spare them from it – but those were silly thoughts, totally useless. Tonight, Hermione knew, she wouldn't sleep. She couldn't, knowing what Dorcas was going through. Neither would the others, she knew. No, tonight, would be another night of manic searching through books for that answer that eluded her – the one to save Dorcas and Remus.

In the west, the sun lowered another inch.


A/N: A seriously busy chapter (enjoy trying to guess Sirius' password!), hopefully everything came across well! I especially hope you enjoyed the Quidditch match (and concrit for that'll be really appreciated, as I've never written a Quidditch match before - or even a quiddtich practice!)

Anyway, thanks for reading the last chapter, and adding this fic to your alerts! And of course, a huge thank you to the reviewers:

Monnbeam, Alysandra Martin, pstibbons, Yochanan Suishoukin, LotL101, WuHaoNi, suisei no mitsukai, googlibear and Novocain!

Just to answer the questions (and comments) that cropped up in the reviews:

Yochanan Suishoukin: It is possible, and probably will happen (you really gave me food for thought there!), but not until things are in such manic chaos that it may not have as huge an impact as it might have (that's not to say that there won't be a big impact!) Thanks for asking (and giving me food for thought!)

LotL101: Wow, lots of questions! Ok, Sirius was expelled, because although Dumbledore said he might not expel someone, he left himself that little loophole. I imagine that McGonagall would have wanted him expelled, after what happened. Sirius is the alpha, because he refused to give ground at the Shack stairs (although there wasn't much choice for him at the time - it was either fight Remus, and probably get bitten, or try what he did.) Finally, I will come back to the Alice, matter - but probably not until things die down - at the moment, I feel, Hermione and everyone else are so caught up in the werewolf matter, that until things settle down, it won't come to head - but it will do eventually, I promise (and thanks for rembering it!)

suisei no mitsukai: Just to say thanks for your review! As always, you've raised several issues for me (the ramifications of the vow, and the Marauders reactions - which again inspired a huge chunk of this chapter!) So thank you!

P.S. Enid's owl is a 'little owl' and Seanán means 'little wise person', which I thought was perfect for Enid's owl!