Lily knew exactly what the Marauders were planning, of course.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she'd been in her bedroom when Sirius had shouted her name, which had piqued her interest. Then the boys had discussed in astonishing detail their plans to not only infiltrate Lord Voldemort's headquarters, but steal a priceless artefact from under his nose, as well.

The entire thing was insane, but if anyone could pull off a heist, it would be them. James and Sirius were the most talented wizards she'd ever met, and Remus was no slouch, either. Though she tended to think of Peter as slow — most people did, she suspected — he was honestly more skilled than the average Hogwarts student. James and Sirius were simply so brilliant that they made him, and occasionally Remus, look mediocre by comparison.

But as clever as the four boys were, none of them had the same grasp on Potions that she did. They needed her, even if James was determined to keep her out of it. Sirius, at least, seemed to recognize this; during Herbology the following week, he approached under the guise of borrowing her gardening shears.

"Actually," he said once she'd handed over the shears, "I was wondering about something. Has James mentioned anything to you about…?" He trailed off, giving her a meaningful look.

"About what?" asked Lily innocently.

Sirius glanced at the other end of the greenhouse, where James was hacking away at a tendril of Devil's Snare that had wound around his arm. "He didn't tell you? About the plan?"

"James hasn't told me anything," said Lily truthfully. She'd been surprised, at first, that he hadn't confided in her, but she figured that was his way of making sure she was safe. It was sweet of him, even if his concern was totally misplaced. She could take care of herself.

"I see." Sirius fidgeted with the gardening shears. "I thought he would've mentioned… erm."

Lily was enjoying watching Sirius squirm. "So what is this plan?"

"Erm. About that. Hypothetically speaking, say we wanted to steal something from the Death Eaters — the real Death Eaters, not my brother and his stupid friends. What would you think?"

"Hypothetically," she said, "I think you'd be mad to try something like that without my help."

"Right," said Sirius. "I knew you wouldn't want to, which is why this is all hypoth— wait." He stared at her. "Did you say you wanted to help?"

"You were right the other day, you know. None of you are good enough at Potions to make a Polyjuice that lasts more than an hour. Let alone the Draught of Living Death and Felix Felicis."

Sirius' tone was disbelieving. "You spied on us!"

"You shouted my name in the Heads' dormitory while I happened to be in my room. That isn't spying."

"Should've used Muffliato," muttered Sirius, but he didn't look too put out. "So you know what we're trying to do? And you approve?"

"'Approve' is a stretch," said Lily. "But I am glad to see you lot finally take an interest in the war. It's… heartening."

"Well, better late than never, right?" said Sirius, which was the most self-deprecating thing Lily had ever heard from him. "We really could use your help, Wondergirl. Just name your price."

Lily almost laughed out loud. As if the Marauders could offer her anything she'd be interested in. She didn't care for Quidditch paraphernalia or gag gifts from Zonko's, so there was absolutely nothing Sirius could give her that would —

Unless. A mad idea occurred to her. It was so ridiculous; Sirius would never agree. And even if he did, there was no way he could actually make good on the only payment she wanted. But perhaps he could give her a partial sum if he couldn't afford the full amount, which was —

"A thousand Galleons."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She braced herself, preparing for Sirius to laugh unkindly at her, but —

"It's a deal," said Sirius at once. He held out a hand for her to shake.

Lily stared at him. "It… is?"

"Sure. You know I come from money. We need you, and if a thousand Galleons is what it takes to get you on board, then…" Sirius shrugged.

That didn't make any sense. The Blacks might be rich, but wasn't Sirius estranged from them? Did he really have a thousand Galleons lying around to give her?

But this was the best opportunity she would get to pay her fine. She shook his hand before he could change his mind. "You'd better have the Galleons," she warned.

"Wondergirl." Sirius sounded wounded. "Would I make a promise I couldn't keep?"

For the rest of the day, Lily allowed herself to feel hopeful. He must have enough money, she decided. The Blacks were part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, after all — those old wizarding families must be even better off than she'd thought. And with a thousand Galleons…

She could pay her fine to the Ministry. She could keep her wand. She'd be allowed to stay in wizarding Britain after Hogwarts; perhaps she and James could even…

Her thoughts brought her to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. James. She'd have to break it to him that she was getting involved in their little scheme. Would he be upset? He'd been so adamant that she shouldn't be dragged into it, but she'd practically flung herself in headfirst.

For a thousand Galleons, though… how could she have resisted?

"'Tempora mutantur,'" she told the Fat Lady, then climbed through the portrait hole.

Inside the Heads' dormitory, James was asleep in the yellow armchair that he loved; his head was on his chest, and his glasses were askew.

Lily smiled fondly. His slack jaw and crooked glasses made him look years younger, like he was still the eleven-year-old boy she'd met on the train. Quietly, she leaned forward and brushed a lock of curly hair out of his eyes.

He stirred. "Alright, Lily?" he asked, blinking owlishly up at her.

"Never better," she said. "Is there room for two in that chair?"

"Be my guest," said James, and he pulled her onto his lap.

She looped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair. "You've got great hair. Has anyone ever told you?"

"Don't take the mickey. I know it's always a disaster."

"Well, yes," she admitted, "but I like it like that."

"Good," he said, "because you'd be out of luck otherwise. Even Sleekeazy's can't control it."

Lily ran a hand along the back of his head, enjoying the softness of his curls beneath her fingers. James closed his eyes at her touch. "Didn't your dad invent Skeekeazy's?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't work on Potter hair," said James. "Probably for the best, honestly. If I had straight hair, I'd look like a brown version of Snivellus."

Lily laughed. "You would not!"

"I would."

He had a point, but she wasn't about to admit it. "Well, I think you're very handsome. Even when your glasses are crooked."

He hastily adjusted his frames. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm."

He peered intently at her, which made her nervous; she looked away, laughing a little. "Have I got snot hanging out my nose or something?"

"Nah, girls don't make snot," said James. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"You are astonishingly pretty, this close up."

Lily felt suddenly shy. "Stop it. You'll make me blush."

"You're even prettier when you blush."

She touched her nose to his and breathed in; he smelled like roasted chestnuts and soft leather. "James." She'd meant to scold him, but her voice came out breathy. "You can't say things like that and not follow through. It's a tease."

James' eyes wandered over her face; he seemed to be having trouble following her line of thought. "Follow through?"

"Kiss me, you idiot," she whispered.

That got the point across. James cupped her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

It was still new, the feeling of his mouth on hers, and she relished every sensation. It was hard to believe there had ever been a time when she didn't want him; she traced the angle of his jaw without shame. He tasted like oranges.

James placed one hand on the small of her back and the other on her thigh, pulling her closer to him. Their chests were pressed together, but she wanted him closer still. She needed him closer.

He must have felt the same way, because he kissed her hungrily. The cold lenses of his glasses pressed into her cheek, and he paused just long enough to take them off, dropping them carelessly into the cushions of the armchair.

Warmth grew in the pit of her stomach, demanding more, urging her on. She didn't want to stop, but there was a nagging voice in the back of her skull, reminding her that there was still something they needed to talk about, something she couldn't keep from him —

Reluctantly, she pulled back and looked at James. Without his glasses, one of his eyelids drooped slightly; it was so lovable she wanted to kiss him all over again. His hair was an absolute fright, though she suspected hers was no better.

"Is something wrong?" asked James. "Did I do something? Do you want to stop?"

"No, this is —" Fantastic, though Lily couldn't say that out loud. Better to not sound like she was gagging for it, even though she was. "I just remembered something."

"Not a scheduling conflict, I hope. I was thoroughly enjoying our snog — it'd be a shame to stop now."

"No, nothing like that."

"Good." He pressed a hand against her lower back, keeping her close to him. "You were saying?"

It was now or never. "I just thought you should know… I talked to Sirius. I know that you lot are going after the diadem, and I want to help."

The hand on her spine tensed. "Sirius told you, did he?" said James in a tone she couldn't read.

"Not exactly. I overheard your conversation," she admitted. "It was really sweet of you to — to try and protect me, but I have to help, James. It's people like me that the Death Eaters are after. I have to fight against them however I can."

Lily braced for an outburst, but none came. "Alright." James removed his hand from her back and groped about the armchair for his glasses.

She blinked. "Alright?"

"Yeah." He pulled his glasses from a crevice in the cushions and put them on. Behind the thick lenses, his hazel eyes focused on her, and he smiled. "I know better than to get in your way when you make up your mind about something. Besides, you're brilliant — none of us are half as good at Potions as you are. We could use your help."

"I want to go to the abbey, too," said Lily, and James' smile faltered. "Not the night of the banquet — that's Remus and Peter's thing — but whenever we go back to steal the diadem. You lot will need somebody to put you back together if things go wrong, and I'm the closest to a Healer you've got." Unwittingly, her eyes flicked to his neck, where a thin, raised scar disappeared into the collar of his robes.

"Yeah," said James, but he looked troubled. "You're right, of course. And it's your choice to make. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't get hurt," she said, though of course she couldn't guarantee that. "I promise."

That seemed to buoy James' spirits; he trailed his fingers through her hair and tucked a loose strand behind her ear. "You're right. If anything, I'll probably need you to save my sorry arse again."

"Probably." Lily leaned forward, breathing in the chestnut-and-leather scent of his skin. "Now, where were we?"

Severus was loath to admit it, but he missed the old Regulus.

Not that he found Regulus' twitchiness endearing — quite the opposite, in fact — but he'd take a Regulus who was scared of his own shadow over an Imperiused Regulus any day. Ever since he was placed under the curse, Regulus spent every bit of his free time searching out Remus Lupin. Nothing could shake him.

As a result, Severus spent every bit of his free time getting in Regulus' way. He'd tried reasoning with Regulus, which had been an utter failure, and distractions hadn't worked, either. So he had taken to trailing Regulus through the castle and Stunning him whenever he looked like he was about to make a detour.

It wasn't a particularly elegant solution, but it was working well enough. Nearly a month had passed since Regulus had followed Remus to the Whomping Willow, and though there had been several close calls, Regulus was no closer to figuring out Remus' secret.

To Severus' relief, February's full moon came and went without incident. Severus still couldn't believe he was protecting a werewolf, of all creatures, but he was glad Regulus hadn't managed to put two and two together. Perhaps there was hope after all that he could develop an antidote before Regulus got them both expelled from Hogwarts.

The day after the full moon was Slytherin's Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Severus was normally indifferent about Quidditch, but this time was different. Regulus would be occupied as Seeker, relieving Severus of his baby-sitting duties for at least two hours. He was quite looking forward to both the solitude and the chance to work uninterrupted on his antidotes.

After escorting Regulus to the pitch, Severus pretended not to see Avery, who had saved him a seat in the stands. He returned to Dungeon Thirteen, where he spent a pleasant half-hour fiddling with the temperature of his antidotes before the cauldron of Polyjuice Potion caught his eye. It was nearly empty.

That meant another trip to Slughorn's storeroom to steal Boomslang skin and powdered Bicorn horn. Ten minutes later, Severus' pockets were a little heavier, and Professor Slughorn's storeroom was a little emptier. The supply of Boomslang skin had been surprisingly low; Severus had taken less than he would have liked, not wanting to draw attention to the dwindling stores. He would have to supplement the Polyjuice Potion with other ingredients. Asphodel, perhaps, though he'd need to do some research to be certain.

On his way to the library, a flash of green caught his eye. Someone in emerald Quidditch robes was striding down the corridor that led to the hospital wing. Lanky and pale, with not a single dark hair out of place —

Impossible, thought Severus. Regulus was playing Quidditch, not sneaking around the castle. Unless…

The realization hit with more force than a Stunning Spell. Unless this Regulus was an impostor. Severus wasn't the only student capable of brewing Polyjuice, and Slughorn's stores had been running low.

The impostor was turning the infirmary door handle when Severus caught up to him. He flicked his wand, and the impostor slammed into the wall.

"Who are you?" hissed Severus. He pressed his wand into the impostor's throat.

Regulus' wide, fearful eyes stared back at him. "Sev, it's me —"

"Don't waste my time with lies. I ask you once more: who are you, and why have you disguised yourself as Regulus Black?"

"I told you, this isn't a disguise —"

Severus' wand twitched, and the impostor flew face-first into the window on the other side of the corridor, cheek pressed against the glass.

Severus joined him at the window. "Look at the Quidditch pitch and tell me what you see."

"Er… there's a match going on. I see people on brooms —"

"Don't be coy," snapped Severus. "There are two Seekers flying above the pitch. One of them is unmistakably Regulus Black. Who, then, are you?"

"I'm Regulus, and if you'd let me explain —"

With another jerk of Severus' wand, the impostor spun to face him. "Explain away," he said, boring deep into Regulus' familiar grey eyes. Whoever this was, they surely hadn't been trained in the art of Occlumency —

But there were no easily-read thoughts for Severus to peruse. Peering into the impostor's mind felt like being deep underwater; he was surrounded by murky emotions and crushing pressure. The sensation was familiar, but before Severus could dive deeper into the clouded sea of thoughts, a new memory rose to the surface like a bubble of air.

A thin, dishevelled girl was climbing out of a painting… she stumbled, and three others reached out to catch her, two boys and a girl with dark red hair… wandlight shone at the end of a dungeon corridor, and Severus saw himself standing alongside Mulciber and the other Followers…

The dungeon exploded into battle.

Severus had seen enough; he broke eye contact with the person standing before him.

"Regulus," he said flatly.

Regulus lifted his pointed chin. "I told you it was me. You could have listened instead of pushing into my mind —"

"Legilimency is quicker."

"Only because I showed you my memory of the night Sally was found. Do you believe I'm me, now?"

Severus was only eighty per cent certain that it was truly Regulus he was speaking to. "This is impossible," he said, turning to face the window. "You're in two places at once. I can see you playing Quidditch right now — I escorted you to the pitch myself, you couldn't have left. So how are you here?"

Regulus grimaced. "Mind letting me go? It's easier if I show you…"

Reluctantly, Severus lifted the jinx that held Regulus in place. Regulus reached into the top of his robes and withdraw a small, golden pendant hanging on a chain around his neck.

Severus stared at the pendant; it was shaped like an hourglass and filled with sparkling grains of sand. "A necklace? I fail to see…"

"This is a Time-Turner," said Regulus.

"Make one more joke and I'll strangle you with that pretty little chain you're wearing."

"I'm not joking. It's what Uncle Alphard left me in his will."

Severus' stomach roiled with nausea. "He left you a Time-Turner? You said all you got was trinkets!"

"Well, that was basically true." Regulus tucked the hourglass back into his robes, looking uncomfortable. "I was surprised, too. Uncle Alphard did work for the Ministry — that's probably how he got his hands on one. I guess he thought I might need it."

Severus could not have cared less about Regulus' dead uncle's reasoning. "Did he leave you any other dangerous artefacts I should be aware of? You're not keeping an Erumpent horn under your bed, are you?"

Regulus smiled thinly. "Just the Time-Turner, I'm afraid. And it's not that dangerous. I've used it a few times and nothing bad has happened."

That was not reassuring. "What in Salazar's name could be so vital that you'd risk destroying yourself in a time paradox to…" The answer came to Severus before he'd finished asking the question. "No. Not Remus Lupin."

"Yes, Sev." Regulus pushed past him. "I have to figure out what's going on with him."

Severus was going to murder whoever had Imperiused Regulus. "One more step towards the hospital wing and I'll stun you."

Regulus didn't turn. "Lupin is inside," he whispered, gazing longingly at the infirmary door.

"What makes you so certain?"

"He wasn't at the Quidditch match. And I saw him with Li — with the Evans girl last month. She's an apprentice here, you know. So he must be here, too."

Considering it was the day after the full moon, Remus Lupin was likely convalescing in the hospital wing. But Regulus couldn't learn that; he'd take the information straight to whoever had Imperiused him. And if it got out that Remus was a werewolf, Severus himself would be blamed for spilling Remus' secret. He was the one who had figured it out first, after all.

Regulus took another slow step towards the hospital wing. Severus raised his wand.

"Out of curiosity, Regulus. Where and when did you use the Time-Turner?"

"After the match, of course," said Regulus indifferently. "I went behind the changing room and —"

"Thank you," said Severus. "Stupefy!"

Regulus dropped like a rock.

He's far stupider under the Imperius Curse, thought Severus. That was a flaw in the curse — it made its victims too fixated on their given task, all else forgotten. Perhaps he could improve upon —

On second thought, inventing a more effective version of an Unforgivable Curse would definitely land him in Azkaban. Pity.

Severus Disillusioned Regulus' unconscious body and levitated him onto the grounds of Hogwarts. The Quidditch match was over, and avoiding the hundreds of students who were headed back to the castle was no mean feat. When he reached the Quidditch pitch, he thought he saw a flash of movement behind one of the changing rooms; on closer inspection, nobody was there.

He propped Regulus against the back wall of the changing room and lifted the spells he had cast. "Rennervate."

Regulus stirred. "Severus? What happened?"

"I Stunned you. Again." Severus crouched beside him. "You were mistaken about Remus Lupin, by the way. He did attend the Quidditch match. I saw him while bringing you back here."

Regulus bought the lie without questioning it. "I see. Maybe next time, Sev you could help me… you could make him talk, and we could figure out…"

"Absolutely not." Severus rose and reluctantly extended a hand to Regulus, helping him up. "Besides, there won't be a next time."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I am stating a fact. This has to end."

And Severus would be the one to end it. If he didn't invent an antidote to the Imperius Curse by the next full moon, he would go to Dumbledore and tell the meddling old headmaster everything. Better for Regulus to be expelled than to be killed fiddling with time magic.

"Come," said Severus, and he took off, striding towards the castle.

"Where are we going?"

Severus thought of his antidotes, simmering away in Dungeon Thirteen. One of them would be ready to test that very evening. "To the dungeons, of course. We've got work to do."

Lily measured out a spoonful of powdered Bicorn horn and added it to the cauldron in front of her. She was on the seventh floor, in a room she hadn't known existed until that morning, when Remus had shown it to her. The Room of Requirement, he'd called it, and it really did have everything. There was a potions bench, bookcases teeming with useful information, and a large duelling ring in the centre for practising spells.

Lily placed the tip of her wand into the fire beneath the cauldron, increasing the heat, then moved on to the next potion. Nine cauldrons in total simmered on the bench: golden Felix Felicis bubbled merrily alongside watery Veritaserum, while the Drought of Living Death's surface was as stagnant as swamp water. She checked her notes — brewing nine potions simultaneously was a lot, even for her — and added a single Jobberknoll feather to the Veritaserum.

The door opened, and Remus and Peter walked in. The two of them spent nearly as much time in the Room of Requirement as she did, preparing for their excursion to Walpurgis Abbey. Remus went directly to the corner of the room that resembled a small library, while Peter pushed a stuffed dummy into the duelling ring.

"How're the potions coming, Lily?" asked Remus, pulling a book off the shelf.

"A few are nearly ready," she said. "I'll finish the last steps on the Blood-Replenishing Potion this evening, and the Polyjuice only needs another ten days."

Peter stopped hexing the dummy long enough to chew worriedly on a nail. "Did Slughorn ever notice that some of his ingredients were missing?"

"I don't think so," said Lily. "He must not check his storeroom very often."

Peter relaxed; he'd stolen the ingredients for her and had been fretting about getting caught ever since. "Good. You'll let me know if he says anything to you — if he even hints at it?"

Lily's smile grew strained. They'd had this conversation a hundred times. "I promise. But I really don't think you have anything to worry about, Peter. I don't think he suspects us at all."

"Better for us," said Sirius, slamming the door behind him as he entered the room. "Put that dummy away, Pete! I'll practise with you."

Peter blanched. "But I'm working on the Skin-Shredding Curse! You'll get hurt —"

"Only if you hit me." Sirius disappeared on the spot as Peter sent a jet of twisting black smoke towards him. He reappeared beside Lily.

"You are so careless," she said. "What if Apparition didn't work in this room? You would have been torn apart!"

"It's called the Room of Requirement for a reason, Wondergirl," said Sirius. "If I need to Apparate away from Peter's feeble spellcasting, the room makes it happen."

"Feeble?!" Peter sent another jet of black smoke barrelling towards Sirius, and Lily deflected it with a Shield Charm.

"Not around the potions!" she said sternly. "Unless you want to go to Walpurgis Abbey without any Fearlessness Draught…"

"By the way, Wondergirl," said Sirius, digging in his pockets. "This came for you at dinner."

He handed her a creamy, textured envelope with a postage stamp on the front, marking it as a Muggle letter. Inside was a sturdy rectangle of paper with floral accents swirling around the border.

Petunia Evans

and

Vernon Dursley

invite you to share in the joy

of the beginning of their new life together

when they exchange marriage vows

on Sunday, April 30th

nineteen hundred and seventy-eight

at four o'clock

at Christ Church, Cokeworth

Sheffield, South Yorkshire

Reception immediately following ceremony

A hand landed on Lily's shoulder, and she jumped. Sirius was looking at her with concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh — fine," she said. "My sister's marrying one of the worst men alive, that's all. She just sent me a wedding invitation."

Sirius squeezed her shoulder, relieved. "You looked like someone had died. But a wedding — that's great! I bet Muggle weddings are a riot."

"This one won't be." Lily made a face. "My sister has horrible taste. In everything." She checked her watch; it was nearly seven o'clock. She needed to hurry, or she'd be late for her shift in the hospital wing. "Would you mind adding three drops of honeywater to the Unctuous Unction at half-past seven?" she asked Sirius. "I've got my apprenticeship now…"

"Consider it done," he said.

Lily figured there was a thirty per cent chance he would forget, but that didn't bother her in the least. If it did slip his mind, she'd just make him brew the potion from scratch.

She was descending the staircase to the second floor when she stopped short, her grip tightening on the bannister. Regulus Black and Edmund Avery were standing at the bottom of the stairs. They looked like they were plotting something: their heads were tilted together, and Regulus was whispering into Avery's ear.

Lily steeled herself. Over the past year, she'd done an excellent job of pretending Regulus Black didn't exist, and this time would be no different.

The Slytherin prefects grew quiet as she passed them. She felt their eyes bore into her, but she ignored them completely.

At least until Avery said, "Hi, Evans."

She whipped around so quickly she nearly lost her footing on the stairs. "Don't you two have anything better to do than loiter around the castle?"

"We're not loitering," said Avery, who didn't seem to realize she hated him with every fibre of her being. "We're on patrol."

"Then start moving," she spat, and she raced down the stairs before either could respond.

God. What was wrong with Avery? She'd heard from Madam Pomfrey that he'd sustained some brain damage during the previous school year, but his friendliness was creepier than outright disdain. At least Regulus had the decency to ignore her as thoroughly as she had ignored him.

She gave herself a shake as she entered the hospital wing, trying to leave any lingering revulsion at the door. Being distracted while Healing could lead to disaster. Luckily, there were only a few students inside the infirmary, and none were acutely ill. Madam Pomfrey was beginning to let her manage the low-acuity cases by herself, so after a brief check-in with the matron, Lily got to work.

If she was being honest, lately she preferred working alone, anyway. She loved Madam Pomfrey, but the Mediwitch kept alluding to post-Hogwarts training opportunities that Lily was certain she'd never take. Even if Sirius came through with the thousand-Galleon payment he'd promised, there was still the ugly matter of the war. Perhaps she could work part-time at St. Mungo's, but she certainly wouldn't do more than a few shifts a week. She wouldn't be content to be holed up in the hospital while the Order fought for Muggle-borns like her. She needed to do her part.

At the end of her shift, she was stripping linens off the cots when the doors of the hospital wing flew open. Two students in Slytherin Quidditch robes stumbled in, supporting the weight of a third player between them. The student's face was so bloodied he was unrecognizable; his head lolled as the other two dragged him forward.

"Help!" called one of the Slytherins. "There's been an accident, he's injured…"

So much for her shift being over. Lily dropped the linens on the floor and waved her wand. The unconscious Quidditch player rose into the air, drifting into the nearest cot.

"What happened?" she asked.

The other Slytherins exchanged glances. "Not sure," said the one who had spoken before. "We think he was hit by a Bludger, but we didn't see it happen. He fell quite a ways, though."

So they had dragged a student with a potential spinal injury all the way from the Quidditch pitch to the hospital wing. How daft can they be?

"Thank you," she said curtly. She drew the curtains around the cot, shielding the other Slytherins from view. They must have taken the hint, because a moment later, the doors creaked shut behind them.

Lily bent to get a closer look at the unconscious Quidditch player. His face and hair were covered in blood. His nose or cheeks could be broken — or an orbital bone, God forbid — but there was no way to tell with all the mess.

"Episkey," she said. "Evanesco —"

The blood vanished, revealing the boy's pale, slack face. Lily jumped back instinctively.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she said, steadying herself. "What happened to being on patrol duty tonight?"

But Regulus Black didn't respond.

A/N: Dun dun dun! The plot thickens...

The alternate title of this chapter was "Trouble Brewing" - I can't resist a good pun, hehe. Thanks as always for reading!