And before I quite realized what was going on, I'd been at Hogwarts for a little less than a month, and I couldn't have been happier.

Classes, though they'd been rather dull and uninteresting in the beginning of the year, had gradually stepped up a level or two and were proving to be a nice challenge. Potions, taught by Slughorn, was... interesting. As my nephew had observed in his sixth year, Horace Slughorn was a large man with a weakness for crystallized pineapples and a rather remarkable ability to sniff out students with potential and talent.

Lily Evans was one. I, apparently, was another.

It was to my private amusement that Slughorn had, indeed, kept a watchful eye on my brother during his first year to see if he would prove to be as talented in the art of brewing potions as our mother was. James was unquestionably bright, charismatic and talented, but his disregard for the subject had left the man sorely disappointed, shifting aside Heir Potter and shuffling Lily into his little Slug Club.

During the first weeks at Hogwarts, Slughorn had watched me like a hawk, most likely trying to gauge the level of raw talent I possessed, hoping to snag a member of the renowned Potter line for his collection of remarkable students. By some odd miracle I passed the unofficial test and ever since I'd suffered his overly warm greetings and blatant favoritism. It was a huge relief that my housemates didn't resent me for it, instead amusing themselves by making jabs at being the teacher's pet. Harper in particular seemed to get a kick out of it.

James, and therefore Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew by extension, didn't hold the Potions professor in a favorable light. Perhaps because Lily glowed with pride whenever she was praised, or because he was the Head of the Slytherin House, but either way my brother had been aghast to discover that I had become another one of Slughorn's gems.

A swift stinging hex had resolved any issues for now.

As time flew by, the first year Ravenclaws had shuffled into small groups of especially good friends. That wasn't to say that we weren't all on good terms, because we were, but much like Harry had his Golden Trio and my brother had the Marauders, we formed our own groups with the people we were the most comfortable with. Groups like these were the type to last a lifetime and then some, and I knew this instinctively.

Somehow or another, Ryan Connolly had wormed his way into my heart and seized the role of best friend, and to my mild surprise Harper Crispin and Clay Morton had also joined our cozy little family. In hindsight though, they all made sense - with Harper's wicked sense of humor, Clay's sardonic side comments, and Connolly's laid-back personality, they complimented my aloof persona.

I refused to call Connolly by his first name, and so he returned the favor, calling me by my surname, which often had Harper rolling her eyes at our stubbornness. It had taken a little over a week to get around to calling Clay by his first name, and my friends thankfully didn't make a big deal out of it. We were the type to take things in stride and get on with life, it seemed, and that was perfectly fine by me.

Though my relationship with my friends grew better and better with each passing day, I saw my brother and the rest of the Marauders less. But when I did see them, my trouble radar was going nuts - living with James for so long had installed the wonderful ability to call out on bullshit and sniff out any pranks in the making. To my immense puzzlement though, I was sure they weren't cooking up any dastardly plans for the school anytime soon, but something was definitely up.

For one, the four of them seemed less like a closer than usual group of friends and more like four soul brothers, sharing a bond that far surpassed that of blood. Which was good, excellent even, because they were solidifying their position as the Marauders for good, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. (And maybe some jealousy, but I was trying not to succumb to it. I was the outsider here.)

Remus, who was constantly tired and had premature worry lines on his worn - but handsome - face, didn't look like he was going to keel over and kick the bucket any minute. He seemed, dare I say it, happier, and I had noted the small spring in his steps recently too. All were positive improvements, absolutely, but my Potter curiosity wouldn't let me leave the matter be. I hadn't mentioned it to any of the Marauders though, respecting their secret and sensing that it was a matter I shouldn't interfere with. Aella, though she clearly knew what was going on, had refused to let me in the know and had instead redirected the conversation to the matter of the future. I thought she'd been pleased with my decision to stay out of the boys' business, though I really couldn't be certain.

As for my own secrets concerning the future... well, to be frank, I had nothing but two options, none of which I was looking forward to. The first was to let James and Lily die, which I couldn't even bear to think about without feeling my heart clench uncomfortably. The second was to die in Lily's place, which honestly terrified me. I might have died once before, but by no means did that mean I wanted to do so again. Through my musings I'd deducted that life was an unbelievably precious thing and to willingly throw it away took true courage, the ability to look death in the eye and not flinch, and I wasn't sure if I possessed that courage.

I wasn't a Gryffindor. I was just Carina Potter, Ravenclaw first year.

But it was either my life, an existence that should never have been, or the lives of numerous extraordinary people and my nephew's chance of having a proper childhood. So even though the thought of willingly being murdered had my blood running cold, it was the far likeliest option. Even so, I threw myself into searching for a third path, never without a book or two. My friends had accepted it as a quirk of Rina Potter, the desire to learn absolutely everything there was to learn, and I was thankful for it.

After all, though I might not be a Gryffindor, I was still a Potter, which meant I was not going down without a fight.


"Is today a Thursday?" Harper asked randomly, frowning blearily at the covers.

I stifled a snicker at the sight of her hopelessly wild bed head and responded in the affirmative, sweeping the upper hair of my hair into a pony, the lower part tumbling over my shoulders. By the time I had finished changing into my uniform and was tying the blue and bronze tie around my neck, she'd tumbled off the bed and was staring befuddled at the arching ceiling.

"I told you not to stay up so late," I called over my shoulder, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. "I don't care if the Holyhead Harpies were playing the Montrose Magpies, honestly, it's not even the weekends yet. Don't come crying if McGonagall catches you sleeping in her class today."

She grumbled, but staggered up and stumbled to a shower stall in the bathroom, dropping her clothes outside the stall door. A devout fan of the Harpies, she'd clung to the radio all night and had refused our demands that she get some sleep already. The game had lasted for a good eight hours and she'd ended up going to bed at five in the morning.

Adelheid, who had been flipping through a magazine on her bed, glanced at us. "I get that you love Quidditch, but you really could have waited. We have Hooch today with the Gryffindors, you can show off then."

"Don't even put a bunch of first years trying to fly with ancient school brooms on the same level as the Harpies, you blockhead," was the muffled reply. Del just rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine, occasionally calling Juliette or me over to point out an especially eye-catching outfit or fragrance or whatever. You wouldn't really expect a girl like Adelheid Farber to be interested in such things, but she was, and we weren't allowed to express our surprise over it.

Harper finally stepped out of the shower, a towel holding up her damp hair and she cast a cursory glance over the dorm, stalking to her vanity. "Where'd Imogen go?"

"She's off on a grand mission," Adelheid said blandly.

I rolled my eyes and Juliette threw her friend a scolding look. The two had bonded around the third or fourth day, along with the Muggleborn witch who was currently missing. "Imogen's gone to talk to Professor Slughorn," said Juliette.

"Well... why?"

Harper raised a brow as we collectively smirked (or, in Juliette's case, smiled). "She's off to battle," Adelheid said. "Slughorn gave her an A on her essay on burn salves, and she's furious. You know how hard she worked on that, so naturally she's going to corner that overweight walrus and demand an O, or an E at least."

So Imogen was on the warpath and I made a mental note to warn the boys about this little tidbit. For such a nice girl, she could be downright terrifying when she felt she had been slighted. I was not looking forward to the day some idiot of a boy broke her heart.

We made our way down to the Great Hall and greeted the boys, expertly ignoring Jacob's snoring form slumped precariously over his waffles. It had become part of the norm to see him sleeping when and wherever he could, so by this time we were accustomed to his quirks.

Clay and Harper's fierce debate over last night's Quidditch match had us all relatively entertained when Imogen stormed in, face as dark as death. Emmanuel whimpered as she slammed her bag down next to him, clambering onto the bench and viciously grabbing a piece of toast, buttering it like a maniac.

No one dared to breathe lest we upset her, and it was with baited breath that we watched her down a goblet full of milk. She practically threw it back onto the table and as she ripped off a chunk of toast, she glanced up and shot us a smoldering glare. "What?"

Everyone save Adelheid and Juliette looked away so fast our necks nearly snapped. "Well damn, girl," Del whistled, propping her chin on one hand, "did Sluggy refuse to raise your grade?"

"Yes!" Emmanuel winced at the roar, rubbing discretely at his ear. "That arse told me I should be glad with what I have and basically to just suck it up 'cause that's life! Then you know what he did?"

We shook our heads quickly. When Imogen was in a mood like this, not even Harper or Clay was dumb enough to crack a joke at her expense.

The Muggleborn witch scowled venomously at the Head Table, where a certain overweight Potions professor was determinedly looking everywhere else but the Ravenclaw table. "And as soon as he said that, he saw Eldred Worple and you know what he did? He complimented that git's essay!"

Connolly and I exchanged confused glances, but wisely kept our heads down. Sure enough, after a swig of milk, she was ranting again. "I know for a fact that Worple didn't actually brew his potion, too! How unfair is that? And I can't even tell Slughorn that because then I'll look like a jealous hag. Ugh!"

"I thought Worple was a good writer?" Quinn Ramsey piped up, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He didn't wear them much - his eyesight really wasn't that bad - but when he did, he looked good. I hid a smile at Juliette's slightly wistful gaze.

Imogen spared him a scorching glare. "Your point?"

Being the smart kid he was, Quinn held his hands up in surrender and backed off.

After a tense breakfast where we kept an eye on Imogen until she simmered down, we trudged off to Transfiguration with McGonagall, then to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Vera Castelle. She was a short, wiry woman with coarse-looking blond hair pulled into a careless bun at the nape of her neck and had a pair of green square-framed glasses that lent her a stern appearance. Once she took them off though, well that was a whole different story.

Then it was lunch and afterwards Connolly and I trailed after a bickering Harper and Clay to our unofficial spot under the oak tree in the southern part of the castle grounds. It was a relaxing scene - Harper and Clay arguing animatedly, me settled in with my back against the trunk of the tree, cracking out a book while Connolly was sprawled over the grass, head resting in my lap. The first time he'd done that, I'd smacked him upside the head with the book I'd been holding (Introduction to Elementary Runes), but he persisted and eventually I just gave up and let him have his way. Since then, it'd been part of the norm.

We spent about ten minutes like that when I heard a meow and looked up to see Phaedra swatting a paw playfully across Connolly's face. He started and squinted at me balefully. "Control your cat, Potter, I was taking a nap."

Rolling my eyes, I scooped Phaedra into my arms. "What are you doing out of the dorms, love?"

In response the brown tabby squirmed, leaping out of my embrace and padded back to the castle, leaving me to stare blankly after her.

I think she wants you to follow, Aella said dryly. Huffing at her tone, I nudged Connolly off my lap, gathered up my belongings and walked after my cat, who stopped every now and then to make sure I was following. A few more twists and turns later and I found myself in front of the painting of a fruit bowl.

"Well... what now?"

I just about kicked the bucket when a voice answered. "Now, you tickle the pear."

Sirius Black was standing behind me, hands in his pockets and tie loosened, the front of his robe unbuttoned to reveal the uniform he was wearing. He scowled as I stared at him, thrown off by his sudden appearance, and jerked his head at the painting. "Just tickle the pear already!"

I sent him one skeptical look but complied, jumping as it shivered and morphed into what was clearly a door handle. Black was apparently too impatient to wait any longer and pushed past me, twisted the handle, and opening the portrait-turned-door he stepped into the room beyond.

The Marauders were gathered around a small round table, talking in low undertones, and they looked up as Black joined their midst. I hovered by the door, wondering how they'd even found the kitchen, waiting for someone to speak up.

"Rina," my brother greeted, beckoning me over to the table. I took a seat hesitantly. "Haven't seen you for a while, have I?"

Black snorted derisively from where he was lounging in his chair. "Please, spare the waterworks for later, James. Though I don't know why she's here at all."

"I don't either," I told him. "Anyone mind telling me?"

Remus was avoiding my eyes, as was Peter, so I turned my gaze on James and Black. "Well?"

My brother leaned forward. "We need to tell you something."


A/N: I realize I haven't updated in a long time, so first I apologize for that. Summer's here now, so I should have more time to write, but you never know with life. What a pain.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, follows and favorites, and I hope you enjoy the rest of Mosaic!

Beni