I looked from James, to Sirius, to Remus, to Peter, and then back again to James.

"So," I said slowly, trying not to marvel at the fact that yes my brother could be serious when needed, "you called me down here to tell me that..."

"Remus is a werewolf," James nodded.

For a split second I had the wildest urge to laugh. Because there I was, thinking that someone had died or something from the looks on their faces, and they go and tell me that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Which, me being who I was, I already knew. It was almost anticlimactic.

Then I realized that the boys didn't know that, so I heaved a sigh and stared flatly at them. "That's nice and all, but what do you want me to do about it?"

They had a collective moment of disbelief, gaping at me with wide eyes, before Remus recovered. "But... aren't you bothered by this? At all?" He sounded a bit strangled, the poor boy.

I raised a brow. "Should I be?"

"Yes!" he blurted, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, no, yes - " He looked beyond bewildered at this point. Waiting for the four of them to start thinking normally again was going to take a while, so I called over a house elf and asked her for a cup of tea. "I'm a werewolf!"

"I heard you the first time around, Remus." I thanked the house elf and sipped at the drink. Ah, excellent, green tea. It tasted as if a little honey had been added, which was perfectly alright. Sighing contently, I eased back in my seat. "It certainly explains your constant weariness, Remus. Quite frankly, I'm more concerned about the fact that you've called me down here at all."

Black had also recovered. "Why would you be concerned over that?"

"Because," I said dryly, "it means that you want me to do something for you and I'm not sure if I'll like it. And you being who you are... you can see why I'm a little worried."

My brother blinked and shook his head. "I told you she'd take it well," he told Remus, who still looked like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. I rummaged through my bag and fished out a bar of chocolate, which I pushed into his hands. "Eat."

The chocolate must have done some good, because he could focus now. "Carina," he said carefully, "are you... are you sure? Most people would be afraid of me being..."

"If you're James Potter's little sister, you can't exactly continue being most people." The green tea was really fantastic, but I set it down for the moment and looked him in the eye. "You might be a werewolf, but you're Remus Lupin, the person who keeps these idiots in check and a highly intelligent individual I respect. I know for a fact that you have an addiction to chocolate and that you're kind, even if you need more sleep and food, and that's good enough for me. You take care of my brother and that says it all, really."

James grinned broadly. "I'll overlook the fact that you called me an idiot. You're a great sister, Rina, have I ever told you that?"

"Several times. Might have forgotten some." I looked at Remus. "So I'm guessing you're how the Shrieking Shack got its name?"

"Er... yes, actually."

Peter offered me a timid smile, which I returned before turning to Remus. He met my eye and even though he didn't quite smile, I could tell he was grateful. "Now," I said, "what do you want from me?"

"No."

"C'mon, Rina! Please?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

I wheeled around, glowering at my brother. "Because it's bloody illegal, that's what!" Resuming my pacing, I reflected back on what had just transpired.

Black had been the one to break the news. "We want to become animagi," he'd said, staring disinterestedly at the ceiling. "To help Remus with his transformation, you know. James thinks it'd go a lot quicker if you helped, which I don't agree with."

Ignoring that little jab, I'd nodded. "Alright, I'll talk to McGonagall about it, she'll have a lot more tips on this since she is an animagus. She can help with the registration, too."

"Registration?" James had asked, surprised. "What registration?"

I'd then squashed a sudden pang of uneasiness. "The registration of all animagi? It's illegal not to, the Ministry frowns upon it heavily, since it's extremely dangerous without proper guidance from more experienced animagi. And on top of that, imagine what wizards and witches could do if no one knew of their other forms. It's dangerous, so you have to register."

The silence that had followed was hardly reassuring. "... Please tell me you were going to register."

Pettigrew had spilled the beans. "We just want to help Remus, it's really painful for him, and we'd like to keep it all a secret and so we don't want to register - "

"Peter!"

"Damn it Peter!"

So here we were, me pacing and the boys watching me anxiously. (Not Black. He was studying the wall with a keen interest.) "And do you understand how dangerous it'd be? Three boys, animagi, accompanying a werewolf on a full moon! I know you can't help your lycanthropy Remus, I'm not blaming you - in fact I think it's your friends' fault for roping you into this scheme - but really? What if something happens?"

"Carina!"

James's voice brought me to a screeching halt, and belatedly I realized I'd been nearing hysteria. He sighed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Rina," he said, "I get that you're worried - you're always worried - but this is our decision, and Remus is our friend. You know his scars?"

Of course I did. Everyone did.

"That's what he does to himself," my brother continued softly. I swallowed. It hit me right then, with Remus looking so tired and ragged, scars standing out against the pale skin, just how painful his transformations would be. All alone, in the Shrieking Shack, howling and trapped and having to resort to hurting himself in a desperate attempt to keep at least some sliver of his sanity, to not break out and bite others, damning them to the same misery he suffered...

James had a steely glint in his eyes. "He's my friend, Rina, and I won't let him hurt on his own anymore."

I gazed around the table. Black looked relaxed and bored to hell, but his shoulders were tense and his eyes shared the same firm resolve as my brother. Peter looked a lot less certain but there was no mistaking that desire to help a dear friend. And Remus... he was trying not to, I could tell, but he was hopeful, wishing his friends would somehow find a way to keep him company on those hellish nights...

They didn't really leave me with a choice. Not after that. So I exhaled heavily through my nose and slumped forward, hands wrapped around the small cup of green tea. "Alright."

Black looked over sharply. James stilled. "What?"

"I'll help," I said crossly, gulping down the rest of the tea. "I must be bloody insane to do this, but yes, I'll help you three become animagi. Unregistered animagi. I'll have to do some more research of course, don't know if the library will have anything, maybe I'll order some books from Flourish and Blotts, we can't go about this very obviously though - "

James had swept me up into a monster hug, squeezing the breath out of me. "I knew there was a reason why I liked you! Thank you! I'll pay you back, I swear, I'll do anything - "

"She's turning blue, mate, might want to put her down - "

I sucked in air greedily. "Just don't do that again. And don't die."

The library became my best friend. (Not that it wasn't before, but I digress.) I didn't make my research obvious of course, covering it up nicely with the excuse that I was working on the three-parchment-long essay for Castelle. You'd think that a retired Auror would be less interested in correcting essays than in testing students for their aptitude for survival in a real situation but apparently not.

So after lunch one day, I waved off the others and went to the library, mind working a mile a minute to figure out just how an animagus transformation worked. It was complex, far complex than any other spell I'd seen so far, but the Ravenclaw in me was on to it like a dog with a bone. It was absolutely fascinating to study and despite myself I was hooked.

When I'd gone off on a tangent one day, James had stared at me blankly before grinning and giving me a thumbs-up. "I have no idea what you just said, but I knew you'd come around!"

Well, I supposed there was a reason I was in Ravenclaw.

In the massive library, I'd just settled down at the table in the far corner, near the large windows overlooking the lake, when Evan Rosier made his entrance.

Over the past few weeks, Rosier and I had established a strange semblance of friendship that I was more inclined to call a truce. The second year Slytherin had showed up at several of my favorite places to pass time while expressing mild surprise each time we crossed paths. I had good reason to suspect that these run-ins were planned, though, seeing as most of the time I was alone when they occurred. But I had been uncertain as to where exactly I stood with the boy so I couldn't tell him to shove off, instead politely greeting and engaging him in the occasional conversation.

Which, I suppose, was fortunate, because once I got to know him he really wasn't all too bad. He was arrogant, sly, and held Muggleborns in a contemptuous light, sure, but on the other hand he was also intelligent, perceptive, polite (alright, to a select few) and made for good conversation. All in all, yes, he was a bit of an ass, but he was human. We all had our faults and I had no right to shun him for his.

James hadn't exactly been ecstatic over this development but I had told him quite clearly that if he attempted to sabotage my strange friendship with the Slytherin, he would be spewing slugs every time he opened his mouth. (I'd been inspired by Ron Weasley's unfortunate blunder sometime in the future and had looked up spells resembling it. The search had been beyond rewarding and I was now armed with an arsenal of decidedly disgusting but effective spells to wield at my pleasure.)

Rosier slid into the seat across from mine. "Good afternoon, Miss Potter."

"Heir Rosier," I greeted, and just like that we lapsed into comfortable silence. After an hour or so at furiously researching animagus transformations and similar branches of magic, I'd taken a break for fear of my brain imploding from information overload. Thus, I was leisurely reading a book detailing the benefits of certain plants, and how to recognize flowers that could kill you in roughly three minutes. I wasn't exactly nuts about Herbology - dirt, dirt, the smell... hey, I was allowed to be a girl - but it was went without saying that the pros of learning about these strange flora outweighed the cons.

A polite cough drew me away from the usage of hellebore in the Draught of Peace, and I stared at Rosier for a full minute before starting. "Oh! Pardon me, was there something you needed?"

He stared back and I had to resist the urge to squirm. Unlike many others I've become acquainted with, Rosier was difficult to read at best and downright impossible to crack at worst. This teetered somewhere in between.

Abruptly he glanced to the side, giving me time to regain proper composure, and by the time he looked back, I was practically the epitome of serenity. Something like satisfaction? approval? flashed through those dark eyes and then he shrugged almost lazily. "I was just wondering," he said, "about what had captured your attention so."

My eyes flickered down to the yellowed pages of the tome in front of me and back to him. "Just a deeper look into Herbology, to sate my curiosity," I replied. "The benefits of some of these plants are simply mind-blowing, especially when applied to medicinal uses." Warming to the topic, I flipped back a few pages and pointed out a picture of a rather unassuming plant. "This is dittany, and despite its small size it has the ability to grow fresh skin over a wound and may prevent permanent scarring. Unfortunately, it's fairly rare, but if acquired it would prove most useful."

"You have an interest in the healing arts, then?" Rosier broke in smoothly, barely looking at the page I had opened to.

I hummed vaguely. "It's a bit too early to determine what field to pursue, but it is of my belief that possessing a healthy level of knowledge in all areas will prove useful later on."

Rosier studied me, as he always did, before the corner of his mouth curled up and his countenance relaxed. "In that case..."

We were discussing the possible uses of dittany (and other healing herbs) not mentioned in the book and really getting into it when someone sighed gustily to my left. Looking up, I wished I hadn't, because Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were standing there, the former eyeing my companion with distaste.

"Black?" I blinked. "What are you doing here?"

As far as I knew, he never willingly entered the library, tending to avoid it like the plague. This had suited the both of us just fine, because we detested spending more time together than absolutely necessary. So why was he now encroaching upon my territory?

The Black scion scoffed and turned to face me instead. "James wants you," he said bluntly. "He's demanding you help him with... something."

Peter was hovering behind his friend, occasionally stealing nervous glances at Rosier. The Slytherin second year ignored his presence completely, gazing loftily at my brother's right hand man with almost-palpable disdain.

"Something, huh." I could read between the lines. James had done something utterly stupid and required my help in cleaning up the mess. This wasn't the first time I'd had to rush off to do some serious damage control. For such a loveable boy, he was really high-maintenance.

I shot the Slytherin an apologetic look. "I'm afraid I must take my leave now. It was wonderful talking with you, thank you, and I hope you'll forgive me for my abrupt departure."

He inclined his head. "Always, Miss Potter."

"Very well - good day, Heir Rosier."

Black made an impatient sound and grabbed my bag, hauling it over one shoulder and stalking off to the doors, completely ignoring my hissed protests (hello, library, silence is golden). Peter predictably scuttled close behind him, looking cowed at the looming bookshelves filled to the brim with books. Sighing, I nodded at Rosier and hastily followed the two Marauders out the library.

It turned out that my brother had once again offended Lily Evans and slighted Severus Snape, but this time the Slytherin was in the infirmary recovering from the angry boils on his hands and the redheaded Gryffindor was spitting mad. Frantic, James had hauled me in to sort it out, and it was to my pleasure to say that Lily no longer wished to gut my brother.

I didn't see Rosier for a while, but the next day, when I made it back to the library, Madam Pince handed me a small, unassuming package. When I opened it curiously, a wooden box filled with dittany herbs greeted my eyes, and a card with elegant writing scrawled across its creamy surface:

I look forward to seeing the products of your genius. -E.R.

Oddly touched, I fingered the note before carefully tucking it away.

A/N: Hello my readers, wonderful day we're having. I'd like to apologize for the delay in updates, but apparently summer does NOT guarantee fun and some R&R. Pity, that. I hope you can forgive me, and thank you for everyone who followed, favorited or reviewed the previous chapters.

-Beni