I am so so sorry for that last cliffhanger! I don't usually like to have such harsh cliffhangers but that just worked. So I'm very sorry to make you suffer! Here's the next chapter - and the resolution - for you all. I love you!

Eli awoke with a headache throbbing behind her temples, a ringing in her ears slowly fading away. It took her a few minutes to feel actually capable of opening her eyes, but when she did, daylight blinded her and she had to close them again until her head stopped pounding so hard.

Finally, though, she was able to open her eyes and sit up. She was lying in an unfamiliar bed, still dressed in her cut up shirt and trousers from the day before, though her shoes had been removed, at least. From what she knew, the morning after a transformation was supposed to feel…awful, as though your whole body had been ripped apart and pieced back together. Yet she just didn't feel that way. Her shoulder ached, and her head was rather bad, but on the whole it just…wasn't how it ought to feel.

Had she not turned?

Weary and a bit dizzy, Eli got out of the bed and shuffled into the hallway, searching mostly for her Healer's kit—she had a potion for headaches in there. Since the cottage was so small it was easy to find her way to the drawing room, where she'd left it, though passing the protected room made a shudder pass through her. She shook the feeling off and stepped into the drawing room to find her father asleep on the couch, eyes underscored by bruises and skin a bit too pallid, but he was breathing. For the moment that was enough.

Eli grabbed her bag and took it into the kitchen, where she perched on the edge of the counter and sorted through it, removing everything she'd need. Brightening Elixir for both of them, plus potions for headaches, body pains, maybe exhaustion… Usually she sent everything over for him the morning after the full moon, but this time she was here. It made the whole thing easier, really.

A groan from the sofa announced Remus was waking up, so Eli slid off the countertop and crossed the room, a train of potions following her as she continued searching through her bag. While her dad slowly worked himself into a sitting position, she sat in the armchair beside the sofa and laid out her small army of potions, measuring the last couple and dividing them up between the two of them, watching sharp-eyed to ensure she didn't dole out the wrong potion.

"You're awake," Remus murmured, giving her a soft smile. "How are you feeling?"

Eli shrugged faintly. "I'm all right… I don't feel as though a train ran me over, so I…" She swallowed hard, her throat dry and scratchy. "Did I…transform?"

He reached over and squeezed her knee tightly. "No, love. You were feverish through the night, but that was only a side-effect of the wound. He…he must have just scratched you, rather than bitten you."

She drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin atop them. It was strange, to come out the other end this way—after the panic, the fear, that awful certainty that had gripped her when she passed out that she was transforming… Eli didn't quite know how to feel. Relieved, naturally, but she also was struck by her heightened understanding of what lycanthropes went through. Greyback… He was some kind of mad to revel in the transformation, in letting the wolf out, so to speak. If it hurt that badly to simply go through a full moon injured by a werewolf's claw, then a full transformation must be agony, pure and simple. While she understood a stigma against a creature like Greyback, someone who delighted in harming others, in turning whoever he could get his jaws into—but those who suffered lycanthropy like her father, like countless others who were forced onto the Werewolf Register and only wanted to live normal lives… They didn't deserve it. Lycanthropy was a curse. Manageable, predictable, but a curse all the same, and if a person could be declared of sound mind…

Ideas spun through her head like bursts of starlight. Not solid yet, just glimmers of inspiration, but if she took the time to sort through it later…

"Are you…all right?" Remus asked her quietly.

Eli nodded. "I'm okay, really, dad. Are you? I can't…" She checked the automatic reply. "I suppose I can sort of imagine it now… Honestly, I don't think I'd be the slightest bit pulled together after that, Wolfsbane or not."

A reluctant smile curled his lips up. "I've had time to adjust to it, years of transformations… They're so much worse without the potion, after experiencing those, this is quite a relief, honestly."

She had never been so grateful for her ability with potions.

Once they'd both taken their set of healing potions, Eli got to her feet and began to pace, while Remus merely rested and watched her. "I want to do something about this," she announced, stalking towards the kitchen and back. "It's completely unfair, not to mention inhumane, to keep that register intact as it is currently. It's a legal, Ministry-approved method of promoting bias and ruining perfectly good wizards' lives."

He frowned at her, shaking his head. "Eli…plenty of us have tried, but it's no use, I'm afraid. Newt Scamander himself proposed the register, originally as a method to help werewolves navigate their conditions, but since then it's been twisted and warped into something else entirely. But with his name on it… No one will turn against it."

But that only served to fuel her fire. "So Mr. Scamander only wanted to help—if that's the case even today, he must be horrified by what it was turned into."

"I would assume so, but how would that help anything, Eli?" Remus crossed his arms and gave her a level stare. "I understand what you're trying to do, and it's a noble cause, but… With the state of our world nowadays, there isn't any chance of altering it."

Eli narrowed her eyes at him. "That's just—so defeatist. I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to concede that easily. After all…" She tugged at the ragged hole in her shirt. "I have a unique viewpoint on the matter, something I've never heard of before. Being attacked but not turned, only suffering due to the full moon coinciding with the attack… The chances of that situation having occurred before are very slim. Right?"

"I—well yes, but even so-"

"And," she continued fiercely, barreling right on, "I happen to know Mr. Scamander's grandson, Rolf. I was at school with him. If I could speak with Mr. Scamander, explain the situation more, then perhaps a new sort of legislation could be worked out…" Eli had a flash of the future, of an ideal future in which Wolfsbane could be made available to lycanthropes on the register, and safe rooms to transform in, just like her father's. It was a distant, challenging goal…and yet she had scarcely wanted anything more.

Remus's gaze turned softer as he regarded her, his countenance seeming to brighten before her eyes. "You are so very passionate, Eli," he murmured. "Just like your mother. I admit…I haven't much faith in seeing changes come about, not on this scale, but…" He grinned faintly. "If anyone could, I suppose it would be you. After all, the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered in my lifetime. The wizarding world is still adjusting."

That moment, just that little drop of faith in her, made Eli feel as though she could take on the entire Ministry. But first… "Right now I ought to let the others know what's going on," she admitted, dragging a hand through her tangled blonde curls. "I can't believe Death Eaters showed up at the Burrow… Mrs. Weasley will be so devastated about the house…"

"I think she'll be happier knowing you're all right," he pointed out. "Why don't you go on back? I've still got some recuperating to do so I'll stop by later, but you ought to join the others."

Eli twisted her mouth up in distaste. "You won't come later," she sighed, shaking her head.

Remorse crept onto his face, and he nodded wearily. "I'm sorry. You're right, I doubt I really would."

She sighed and sank onto the couch beside him, leaning against his shoulder and closing her eyes for a moment. From this point on, it would be a more shared pain, something she could understand better than any of the others—and because of that, she couldn't quite regret it, couldn't hate the situation she'd just gone through. No, she hated it for him, hated that her father had to go through something infinitely worse than what she'd suffered every goddamned month. And he had to live his life with the knowledge that his suffering, his pain, the curse he'd never asked for, would keep him from jobs, from housing, from being a part of wizarding society in general.

It was so unfair it made her eyes sting and her chest hurt.

When she got a spare moment, she'd write to Rolf Scamander and see if she couldn't gauge his thoughts on the matter. Hopefully he'd grown up in his grandfather's stride—she certainly thought he'd been rather involved with Care of Magical Creatures—but they hadn't been in the same year, so it was difficult to say. If that path didn't work, she'd simply write to Mr. Newton Scamander himself and ask for him to meet with her.

But first, she needed to reassure the others that she was all right, that Greyback hadn't bitten her. One thing at a time.

"I suppose I'll try and find the others," Eli sighed, lifting her head. "You'll write me if you need anything, won't you? And I'll be sure to send your potion in time for the next full moon." Perhaps with better news than an old, unaltered potion. But she didn't voice that thought.

Remus smiled and kissed the top of her head, perhaps more fatherly than ever before now that they'd suffered together. "I will, I swear."

She sighed and regarded him one more time, glad to see the potions had done their work—but she didn't blame him for staying. It was just…difficult to leave him this way. "Take care of yourself, all right? There's no reason to be off suffering alone, dad." Eli rose and collected her potions and vials with a flick of her wand, then tucked the Healer's bag back into her coat pocket and donned the garment, not minding the hole and blood still on the shoulder. It served as a good reminder for what she needed to do. Once she was set, though, she leaned down and kissed his cheek, smiling widely as she stepped away to Disapparate. "Love you, dad," she told him genuinely—the first time she'd ever really voiced that, beyond niceties at the end of letters.

His eyes were bright as he smiled up at her. "I love you too, Eli."

She turned on the spot, reappearing moments later outside the Burrow with a crack that echoed across the fields. Immediately, George stuck his head outside the door, his face lighting up when he spotted her. He dropped the stack of burned wood he'd been holding and raced over, grabbing her tightly in his arms and spinning her around a few times. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently once he'd set her down again, scrutinizing her like he could see if she'd turned or not just by looking.

"I'm fine, George," Eli reassured him with a smile and a shake of her head. "I didn't turn last night, just had a few side-effects from the scratch—and that's all it was, a scratch, not a bite. So I'm in the clear. Dad didn't figure I'd even have any leftover symptoms once this heals up."

He nodded and hugged her tightly, resting his chin atop her head. "Y'know," George murmured, leaning back to look her in the eye. "I wouldn't have loved you any less if you had turned. You know that, right, love?"

Eli felt her cheeks burning. Sometimes she felt like a giddy, stupid teenager around him. "I know," she whispered, licking her lips. "And that means the world to me."

A shout came from inside the house. "Oi! Eli's back!"

"Eli's here?!"

A chorus of questions sprang up as Fred ran outside, followed by Simon—when had he even gotten there?— , with Ron, Harry, and Ginny at their heels. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came out next with Tonks, and Eli found herself in a whirlwind of hugs and questions and concerns, all of which she tried to field as quickly and succinctly explain everything.

When the Weasleys—plus Simon and Harry—had managed to settle down, and Mrs. Weasley had practically crushed Eli in hugs, Tonks stepped to her side and asked quietly, "How's Remus doing? He must have been so worried for you…"

"He's just fine," Eli told her, smiling. "Although… I'm sure he wouldn't mind the company. I can tell you where his cottage is now… Perhaps a surprise visit, you know…"

Tonks's eyes lit up. And moments later, after Eli's explanation, she Disapparated with her hair turning a fiery red and her cheeks flaming to match. Eli was glad, though. She hadn't liked the idea of Remus handling the emotional fallout from the night before alone.

"So you got Greyback good, right?" Simon asked her, a sort of wicked gleam in his eyes.

Eli smirked right back. "Sent him flying, on fire. He ran like a bloody coward."

"He is a bloody coward," Fred chimed in. "Bet he won't muck with you again anytime soon, though. Not after that."

She didn't really think that would be the case—and George's sideways look at her suggested he felt the same—but Eli was too relieved to be around her friends again to bother arguing the point. Instead, she just asked about the repair efforts, tried to find a place to help, and let the boys catch her up on the overall situation. For now, she'd keep everything inside, until she had a moment to actually use her ideas, her information.

And once she had that chance…she wasn't going to let it go.

—

Eli threw herself into her experiments, once she returned to Hogwarts. Harry seemed to have some kind of a lead on Malfoy, so she urged him to follow it—carefully—while she tested and retested and rewrote all kinds of different formulas to change the Wolfsbane Potion. The difficulty lied in testing it, because if she had something that actually did seem viable… She'd have to ask Remus to take it, and risk having a full transformation. It about killed her to think of that possibility, but without a Ministry-sanctioned testing group she would have to make do.

January came and went, and February followed suit. She went out for lunch with the boys on Valentine's Day, a sort of double-date between her and George, and Simon and Fred. It was lighthearted and fun, and an excellent break from the hard work she'd been doing, but she was glad to return to her experiments all the same.

At the end of February, though, Eli hit a wall and decided she needed a sounding board. So, the evening of March first, she went down to Slughorn's office unannounced and knocked smartly on the door.

He opened it and peered outside, looking baffled and maybe a bit delighted to see her. "Ah! Miss Lupin, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Slughorn asked amiably, as he let her in.

Eli gave him a winning smile. "I was looking for some advice, actually… You see, I've been attempting to make some, well…improvements to the Wolfsbane Potion. It's a very personal project of mine."

"Now that's a difficult one," he mused, crossing the room to sit in a big armchair. "Tricky potion in the first place, and usually any alteration in the ingredients renders it useless."

"That's been my problem," Eli admitted, taking a seat opposite him. At least he was interested—that was the hardest part, getting him to actually discuss with her. Though he was at least passionate about his subject… She couldn't have imagined going to Snape with this. He'd never want to go that far to help Remus. "Every time I change anything, it alters the potency, and I can't risk that, not unless it improves the potency, but that's in an ideal world…"

Slughorn drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, clicking his tongue faintly in thought. "Have you tried different treatments on the moonstone? Imbuing it with aconite, for example?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Eli sighed. "It turned the aconite too toxic for consumption."

"Mmh." Slughorn furrowed his brow. "Yes, it's quite difficult… Plenty of excellent Potions Masters have tried, and failed in the past… And for good reason, the fact that the ingredients play well together at all is remarkable, hence why the amounts are so precise."

"I once treated moonstone with aconite as a sort of charm," she told him thoughtfully. "My father said it helped with the symptoms, and he carries it all the time now. But it's just a piece of moonstone, so the toxicity doesn't matter. I didn't want to risk treating silver, that could actually become toxic for a lycanthrope to have on their person around the full moon."

Slughorn's eyebrows shot up. "But perhaps if you adjusted the silver, and added something to inhibit the toxicity a bit, to aid the body in handling the increased amount or potency…"

Excitement roiled in Eli's chest at the thought. "That's an idea… Something like hellebore or perhaps even as simple as vinegar. Or…" She blinked in surprise. "Cacao."

"Pardon me?"

Eli nodded quickly, practically ready to leap to her feet at the moment of clarity. "It's a touch of muggle medical knowledge, you see… It contains caffeine, which can help open the blood vessels and allow substances to be absorbed quicker. If the body processed the silver—and even aconite—quicker, then it might bypass some of the toxicity from greater amounts." She felt like she could see stars in her vision. It was so simple, unorthodox yet inspired… And most importantly it was inexpensive. It would hardly affect the cost, and if it made the potion more effective in general, it might even serve to cut costs by lowering the amounts of aconite, silver, and moonstone needed.

"I would suggest you try that, Miss Lupin," Slughorn encouraged with a smile. "It's a rather ingenious thought, quite unorthodox but then, our art is constantly evolving, isn't it? And a more efficacious Wolfsbane Potion would be incredibly useful…"

Someone knocked on the door rather insistently, and Slughorn looked up with a frown. "Now who could that be?"

While he trundled over to the door to see who was there, Eli drew out her notepad and frantically scribbled the ideas down with a stick of graphite, her heart pounding. Cacao. Something to alleviate the toxicity of the silver. Perhaps also treating the silver with aconite? If she could bring the efficacy up enough to balance the costs, make it worthwhile…

Eli only looked up when she realized Harry was walking in past a reluctant Slughorn, carting Ron behind him—who looked rather dazed, if she had to say it. "Everything all right, Harry?" she asked curiously.

He winced and shrugged in reply. "Sort of. Ron ate some, er, spiked cauldron cakes."

"Yes, Wenby here needs a good strong antidote for a love potion," Slughorn explained as he bustled across the room and began preparing his potions equipment. "You know, I'd have thought you could whip up an antidote for this in no time, Harry—considering your aptitude for potions."

Eli's hackles raised. Considering his what? From what she knew, he was middling at best, certainly not someone who ought to be brewing an antidote for a love potion strong enough to make someone go that doe-eyed and dazed. "Would you like me to, Professor?" she asked, rising to her feet. "Since I haven't been indulging tonight." Slughorn had already been at a bottle of wine before she came down—and she'd hate for him to inadvertently harm Ron. "Besides, I am Madame Pomfrey's assistant. It's sort of my job."

In fact, why hadn't Harry simply brought Ron to her, or gone looking for her first? Even if he didn't want Madame Pomfrey knowing, he ought to have reached out to her… Something was very strange here.

Slughorn beamed at her. "Oh, that sounds excellent. Yes, carry on, Miss Lupin." He stepped away from his kit and Eli took his place, taking over the recipe where he'd left off with a practiced ease. "Did you know that Miss Lupin creates her own potions?" he asked, as though she were one of his own prodigy students.

Harry bobbed his head a bit tensely. "Er—yeah, I did. She's great at it."

She gritted her teeth at his tone, now certain something odd was going on. Gryffindors always made horrible liars. But she kept at her task, breezing her way through the relatively simple potion and bringing it over to Ron, who stared up at her in confusion. She caught Harry apologizing for some sort of misunderstanding earlier, but he didn't provide any details, so that was useless. He was sneaking around her too now, which she didn't appreciate—but this wasn't the time to discuss it, no matter how badly she might want to.

"Here, Ron," Eli murmured kindly, handing him a small vial of the potion.

Ron eyed the reddish liquid uncertainly. "What's this?"

She kept a beatific smile in place as she lied smoothly, "Just something to help with the nerves, that's all. You'll feel much better."

That was enough. He downed the dose in one big gulp, before passing the vial back and smiling rather blankly across the room, eyes half-lidded and dopey—until the potion took effect and Ron sat up, looking around in bewilderment, visibly shaking himself. "Wh—what happened to me?"

"Love potion," Harry supplied helpfully.

Slughorn nodded. "And a bloody strong one at that."

Ron furrowed his brow, still seeming a bit off. But that was to be expected, until the love potion fully left his system. "I feel…bad."

"Here." Eli reached into her Healer's bag and poured him a small dose of Brightening Elixir, which he took without question this time. "You'll feel better soon, it takes maybe half an hour for the love potion to work its way out—the best thing I can recommend right now is sleep, honestly. It'll feel more like a strange dream by morning."

"Thanks, Eli." He offered a weak but genuine smile.

Across the room, Slughorn was rummaging around in his cabinet. "Mh, I think this'll do us all good…" He produced a large bottle, wrapped as though it was meant to be a gift, and hurriedly ripped through the paper. "Now this is a rather dazzling oak-matured mead. It will quite warm your spirits, m'boy."

Eli waved a hand. "None for me. I should be going, Madame Pomfrey wanted me on duty overnight. I'll let you know the results of my experiments, Professor."

Slughorn waved quite jovially at her as he began pouring the mead. "Excellent. Have a good night, Miss Lupin!"

With her goodbyes said, Eli set off down the hall, still bristling a bit. Harry was no potions prodigy. She absolutely knew that, knew it from Snape, from the boy himself… So that left the question of why Slughorn thought he was. Could the old man simply have lost his touch, and Harry was mediocre in class but famous enough to get by? Or…was something else going on?

Eli had nearly exited the dungeons entirely when she heard loud screaming coming from Slughorn's office. Cursing, she turned and sprinted back, bursting into the office just in time to see Harry forcing a bezoar down Ron's throat, while the redhead lay immobile on the rug, going blue in the face.

She took in the details in mere moments. Blue lips from lack of oxygen. Heaving chest suggesting lungs still functioning, something else was affecting them. Pale grey skin color. Foaming at the corner of his mouth. It was practically textbook-perfect poison. "Move," Eli ordered Harry sharply, already dragging ingredients from her Healer's belt as she knelt beside Ron. "The bezoar was a good thought, but he might not be out of the woods yet." She liked to talk as she worked—it helped keep her focused.

Eli quickly mixed together two drops of one potion and a solid teaspoon of another, which she tipped down Ron's throat before yanking her wand and flicking it over him, trying to find the source. A purple flicker at the tip of her wand confirmed poison, but there were a hundred different ruddy poisons.

"What did he eat?" she asked, whipping her head around to look at Slughorn. But the professor had gone mute and immobile.

Harry pointed at a short glass, laying on its side by the sofa. "He only drank some of the mead, that's all. Professor Slughorn and I didn't have any yet. Before that it was the cauldron cakes, but that was a while ago…"

"This seems fast-acting," Eli confirmed. She grabbed another vial—this one filled with a smoky green liquid—and poured a half teaspoon into Ron's mouth next. He was breathing easier by that point, some of the usual color returning to his lips and cheeks, but Eli still sensed he was tenuous, too unstable to move or even Apparate. So what could it be? If the bezoar worked, that narrowed it down a touch, but the majority of the most common poisons could be handled with a bezoar. Sighing, Eli selected a generic antidote and gave Ron an additional tablespoon of that, for good measure. Only then did his breathing totally settle and his lips lose that unnatural blue tint.

She looked up at Slughorn, anger touching her chest as she saw he still had yet to react. "Professor!" she snapped, narrowing her eyes. "Send for Madame Pomfrey now!"

Slughorn hesitantly sat the bottle of mead down and nodded, his gaze distance. "Y-yes… Right away…"

Eli scowled at his back something fierce as he headed off to do just that. But rather than focusing on her fury, she turned back to Ron, wanting to make sure he was stable before she turned her attention elsewhere. That was the right thing to do, no matter how upset she was. "Danger is just following you, Harry," she murmured. "You need to be careful."

He twisted his mouth up, but nodded all the same.

With Madame Pomfrey's assistance—and consent—Eli helped her get Ron back to the hospital wing, though mostly her task seemed to be insisting that Slughorn do something, bloody anything, since he'd shut down almost entirely. Finally Eli tired of his dismal stuttering and sent him to fetch Dumbledore and McGonagall, who needed to be filled in. It was a touch…presumptuous of her to order a professor to do anything, but yet she did it anyway, refusing to let him just shuffle around helplessly. If Harry hadn't been there…if he hadn't suddenly gained such a greater understanding of potions… Slughorn wouldn't have acted to save Ron's life, and she had no doubts he wouldn't be alive now.

As Eli listed the potions she'd already given Ron, and Madame Pomfrey nodded thoughtfully, Harry stood to the side of the bed uncertainly, glancing between his friend and Eli. So he was worried. Good, he ought to be. Once Ron was settled and everything was taken care of, she had every intention of interrogating him about his sudden potion-making prowess.

Eli busied herself replenishing some of her potions while Dumbledore and McGonagall spoke with Harry and Slughorn, though she made sure to listen. Ginny and Hermione had been alerted as well, it seemed, and both took up seats beside Ron's bed, Ginny giving Eli a baffled and worried look.

"That was very quick thinking on your part, Harry," Dumbledore observed, picking up the abandoned bottle of mead. "Using a bezoar. A rather inspired moment. You must be very proud of your student, Horace."

Slughorn's head lifted slowly. "Hm? Ah, yes… Very proud," he agreed softly.

She tensed up just faintly, a bit frustrated at being left out of the equation. The bezoar hadn't entirely saved his life—merely bought him the time he needed.

"And lucky Miss Lupin was so close by, as well," Dumbledore added then, giving her a nod.

Eli bobbed her head. Lucky indeed.

McGonagall huffed and furrowed her brow. "Heroic and lucky, yes—but the question remains, why were their actions necessary?"

"Why indeed." The Headmaster examined the bottle of mead curiously, turning it over in his hands and tugging at the bit of wrapping paper still clinging to the glass. "This appears…to be a gift, Horace. I don't suppose you happen to recall who gave you this bottle, do you?" He sniffed at the mouth, and Eli winced, sharing a look with Madame Pomfrey. One oughtn't to sniff a poison, wafting it towards the face was the only safe option… "This seems…rather a lovely gift. It possesses remarkably subtle hints of licorice and cherry, when not polluted with poison."

Eli turned around fully, curious to hear the answer, not just because she wanted to relay the information back to the Order.

Slughorn swallowed and gave the bottle a rather fearful look. "Actually, I…I had intended to give it as a gift myself."

"To whom, I might ask?" Dumbledore inquired curiously.

"To you, Headmaster."

Eli felt nausea swelling deep in her abdomen, her throat burning. That was the second time. First the cursed necklace, then the poisoned mead… Was this truly an attempt on Dumbledore's life? If so it was a halfhearted one, a coward's methodology. Curses and poison, all at a distance, all carefully crafted to allow the culprit to be far away from the murder itself.

The door to the hospital wing burst open, and a girl burst in with tears streaming down her face, shrieking something unintelligible. Eli watched with a raised eyebrow as she raced to Ron's bedside, bursting through the professors to stand beside him.

Yet when she spotted Hermione, who was now holding Ron's hand lightly, the girl's eyes narrowed into something nasty and fierce. "What's she doing here?!" she demanded.

Hermione stared at her in shock—and something…more, if Eli weren't mistaken. "I might ask you the same thing!" she shot back, incensed.

The girl sniffed and tossed one curly braid over her shoulder. "I happen to be his girlfriend."

"And I happen to be his—friend," Hermione told her sharply, despite the hesitation halfway through the middle.

Eli stepped forward as Madame Pomfrey made an unhappy face. "Keep your voices down, please," she asked, more than a bit coldly. "If either of you care about him, you'll mind that he went through quite a shock and needs rest."

With that she turned on her heel and went back to replenishing her stock, ignoring the problems behind her. She was just grateful she'd never been such a simpering little girl as that one was—George mightn't have ever looked her way if she acted so ridiculously. However…she wasn't willing to leave just yet. First she needed to corner Harry, find out how in Merlin's name he'd become some ruddy potions prodigy in just a few months.

Her opportunity came after Ron's supposed girlfriend raced out in tears, and Dumbledore ushered the other professors out with him, Slughorn still in shock. Eli wrapped her Healer's bag around her waist and approached him, arms crossed over her chest. "Harry, a word, please?" she asked, with a jerk of her head towards the doors.

Reluctantly he followed her out, still trailing when she rounded on him and demanded, "So, since when are you some potions genius, hm? We both know you've never been one before."

Harry visibly bristled. "It's just—making sense to me this year, that's all."

"Bollocks." Eli snorted and shook her head. "You're lying to a Slytherin, it's not going to work. A Slytherin and someone with a genuine aptitude for potion-making, no less. Now, a bezoar is a great thought, and you absolutely saved Ron's life—so I'm not going to have a go at you." She sighed and looked away, trying to remind herself of the missed connection in their lives, the fact that they should've grown up as family, would have, in another world. "Just…be careful, please? Potion-making is as much a science as an art, and if you aren't careful… Something awful will happen. And if you need help with potions, you can always ask, you know."

He looked a bit confused by her change in attitude, but nodded anyway, giving just a faint smile. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Eli. For—for everything."

"It's no problem." She reached out, refusing to let herself hesitate, and pulled him into a quick hug. We should've been family. We still can be, though. "Just remember, I'm in your corner on all this. You just have to ask."

—

The next full moon, Eli drafted her letter to Rolf Scamander, using graphite for simplicity's sake, and after several rounds of edits she was forced to set it aside or else go mad with trying to perfect it. She had intended to wait a bit longer, but that whole night, the entire duration of moonrise, her scarring claw-mark on her shoulder burned and ached, driving her to get a head start on her plans. The pain would be her secret—Remus didn't need to carry that burden, and she still believed once her injury healed completely it would cease.

She finally sorted out her letter just before the end of April, and sent it off with an owl borrowed from the school. It took nearly two weeks for Rolf to write back. In a stroke of luck, he remembered her and though he was a Hufflepuff, he had no poor memories of her. Eli was grateful she'd crossed house lines and not kept to Slytherin's usual stereotypes.

'I've written my grandfather to see if he's willing to meet you. Usually he's unwilling to meet fans, sign autographs, that sort of rubbish, but this is quite a different situation. Providing you don't come in gushing over his achievements in magizoology, you ought to be just fine.'

The whole thing was promising thus far, but Eli still needed to make some progress on the Wolfsbane Potion. It would really strengthen her case if she could put forth a revised version of the recipe, something more effective—perhaps enough to make the general wizarding public feel better about werewolves in general. Half the battle would be the public opinion on lycanthropy, for so many wizards still thought of them as monsters and the like, so she was prepared for quite a fight just to get the register taken down, or even altered.

While yet another trial batch of Wolfsbane bubbled away beside her, Eli set about writing a list of changes, ideas for the Werewolf Register. It ranged from payment plans for Wolfsbane to register unavailable to employers and assistance programs for new lycanthropes, just a dumping ground for anything she came up with, really.

All of this, every bit of planning she could do, would strengthen her case—whether she'd be putting it in front of Mr. Scamander or the Ministry itself. She'd always identified with the cunning and sharp aspects of her house…but this was perhaps one of the first times she'd actually felt the ambition, the fierce drive Slytherins were supposed to have as well. But it was there, like a bolt of lightning ready to burst from her chest, this fierce desire to actually be at the head of these changes, to enact them in the world herself.

Eli jumped as an owl rapped on her window with its beak, startling her from her work. She crossed the bedroom hurriedly and opened the window, allowing the owl to flutter inside and alight on the back of her chair, a wax-sealed letter clutched firmly in its beak. It was much too early for Rolf to have written her back, surely, so what could it be? Frowning, Eli took the letter and pulled an owl treat out from her desk, which she gave to the owl before quickly breaking the seal and unfolding the letter.

Miss Lupin,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. My grandson informed me of your desire to discuss the Werewolf Register with me—and your intention to make alterations, as well. I find I am quite intrigued by the suggestion. For a long time I have been disappointed in the results of what I intended to be a useful, supportive piece of legislature, but have seen no clear avenues in which to correct it. Perhaps a young, bright mind could divine a way.

I understand your father is a lycanthrope himself, so undoubtedly this is a rather personal subject for you as well. I want to assure you that I had no ill intentions towards the lycanthropic community when I suggested the register, and I am deeply sorry for what has come of it. No doubt your father has suffered prejudices, and perhaps you as well, from my misstep.

Rolf has explained you are currently employed at Hogwarts, and therefore I assume you'll be quite tied up for the next couple months, until the end of the school year. Usually my wife and I travel during the summer, but if you have the time, I'd be happy to meet you perhaps the first week of July? We can discuss any possibilities then. I will write you at the end of June to ensure you know our location, and we can select a meeting spot at that time.

Additionally, if I somehow fail to contact you by July, please feel free to write me yourself. I would so desperately like to remedy the deplorable situation this has become.

Regards,

Newt Scamander, Order of Merlin, Second Class

Eli pressed her hand over her mouth to quell an excited shriek. He was willing to meet with her! Rolf had come through! She'd have to write and thank him—and write Mr. Scamander as well. Now the only difficulty would lie in keeping her secret until she had something concrete…

The cauldron containing her latest experiment suddenly released a burst of purple smoke that smelt rather strongly of sulfur, and Eli winced, evanescing it immediately. And she needed to make some ruddy headway on this touchy potion, too. If even the great Newton Scamander hadn't seen any feasible way to fix the register, she really would need a lot of fire behind her to get anything done.