By the next day, I'd completely forgotten about the Near Death Experience/Wronski Feint Impression/Baby Death Eater Impersonation incident, until I'd gone down to breakfast to see Frank Longbottom pushing copies of his school zine, The Hogwarts Post, at unsuspecting students.

His face was beaming when he caught sight of me entering the Great Hall, and practically ran over to me, hoisting a copy of the zine into my hands. "Evans! You've made the front cover!" he declared, his blue eyes shining with pride.

I nearly choked as I looked down at the neatly pressed parchment in my grip and saw that a photograph of me, Lily Evans, flying amateur and total klutz extraordinaire, was there on the front page of the Post, riding a broomstick in the midst of the Quidditch pitch. Photograph-me dropped suddenly and quickly from a great height, my dark red hair and black robes billowing behind me before I angled myself at the very last second, pulling away from certain death.

I had to say even I was impressed. The photograph was taken from such a distance that you couldn't see the expression of sheer terror on my face. If you didn't know that I was actually almost falling to my death, it genuinely appeared as though I was an incredibly gifted flyer.

Next to this very impressive photograph was the headline OPERATION FIRE DRAGON: HOGWARTS CULTIVATES WORLDCLASS FLYING TALENT

"And Professor Kettleburn says this exposé could really seal the deal with Operation Fire Dragon!"

I glanced back up to catch him smiling down at me. I stared at him, his dusty brown hair combed back in a fashionable side-part, the faint dimples in his large cheeks, and the way his prominent sideburns grew into a five o'clock shadow. He was one of the most mature-looking students in the school, and could have easily passed for a Hogwarts graduate by fifth year.

"That's er—great, Frank," I answered weakly.

He placed a grateful hand on my shoulder. "It's all thanks to you, Evans! I couldn't have done it without you!"

"Er, you're welcome?" I said, but he wasn't really listening to me anymore. Someone else had caught his attention and he gave my shoulder another appreciative squeeze, flashed me another smile, and went off, a pile of The Hogwarts Post in hand.

I clenched my fist around my copy and walked stiffly to the Gryffindor table where I could read the article under less pressure.

Easier said than done, unfortunately.

A group of Ravenclaws huddled over a copy of the paper walking past gasped in awe. "That's a wicked Wronski," said a small, mousy-haired boy. "Who knew our Head Girl was so cool?"

My eyes widened, and I felt myself blush considerably.

They thought I was cool? Because of this?

Were they suggesting I hadn't been 'cool' before I'd proven I could master the Wronski Feint Defense?

I was so totally cool without this fake-flying business.

The actual coolest.

I couldn't believe they'd thought I wasn't cool!?

"We all knew she was cool, you utter dunderhead," reproached a familiar voice.

I grinned. It was but my best matey, Jennifer Till, come to rescue my reputation from the murky depths of miserable Head Girl un-coolness.

She slid into the bench beside me and began grumbling rather murderously as she snatched my copy of The Hogwarts Post and unfolded it with a dramatic flick of her wrists before I could thank her for her scolding. Jen cleared her throat and began to read:

"'Operation Fire Dragon, the brainchild of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, begins its third week of trial amongst Seventh Year Students who hope to gain a favorable grade in order to graduate this year. While Seventh Year Hufflepuff student, Magda Freni, considers the graduation contingency unfair and upsetting, she speaks as part of the minority of students that disagree with the Headmaster's physical education requirement,' blah blah blah, something about physical health and magical performance and—wait for it!" Jen ripped open the paper to the middle pages, her pointer finger dragging through the inky paragraphs until she found her target.

She frowned and cleared her throat before continuing. "'Hogwarts may be following in the footsteps of Mahoutokoro, Japan's School of Magic, and setting the stage for an international cultivation of Quidditch talent,' blah blah blah—right, here we are!

"'Though Head Boy James Potter is renown for his leadership and expertise as Gryffindor Quidditch captain, our own Head Girl has benefited from Operation Fire Dragon's rigorous training. In just a few short weeks, Lily Evans has been able to master the Wronski Feint Defensive, a throttling nose-dive used by many Quidditch players to thwart opponent chase. Just yesterday, she was able to succeed where Slytherin student Nott failed'—"

"Oh, Merlin!" I cried. "Please tell me Frank didn't actually write that sentence!"

Jen gave me a sidelong look. "I couldn't make this up if I tried, Evans."

I buried my face in my hands and groaned.

Wait.

Why had she called me "Evans"? Was she throwing a strop at me?

I popped my head up and fixed her with a curious glare. "Are you throwing a strop at me, Till?"

She harrumphed and rolled her eyes at me. "Honestly? Yes, I am."

I sat back in shock and gasped. "But why?"

"Because this year wasn't supposed to be the year we both got prematurely blown up by Bellatrix Black and her cronies!" she hissed, throwing a paranoid look over her shoulder. "By Circe, she's got herself a copy of the Post! I suggest we take our breakfast elsewhere."

After casually craning my neck in a completely not unnatural way in order to peruse the Slytherin table behind me and then meeting the glowering stares of Bellatrix, Nott, Yaxley, and Mulciber (just to name a few), I decided a quieter breakfast was in order, and quickly followed Jen to the kitchens, where a couple of enthusiastic house elves let us eat at the duplicate of the Gryffindor table.

(I decided that if I ever wanted to lightly prank someone during a meal, this would be an excellent place to steal the toast off of their plate.)

Jen went on and on about how I was going to single handedly destroy the peace and focus she needs to earn the ten N.E.W.T.S. required by the Ministry of Magic apprenticeship she'd been working towards her entire life.

Which is not true because she only found out about this apprenticeship over the summer when she decided that being a Medi-Witch had too much one-on-one contact, and switched her career interest to Wizarding law. Just like we all knew she would.

But I digress. I let her rant because it usually made her feel better and then we could get back to griping about actually important things like the fact that we had double potions with the Slytherins and were getting assigned new partners that morning.

"What if I get partnered up with Bellatrix Black?!" I exclaimed, and winced inwardly, hoping that it wouldn't start her back on the topic of me, Lily Evans, being Jennifer Till's Biggest Disaster and Life Ruining Influence.

Instead, Jen blanched. "That would be bad," she ceded. "But not as bad, probably, as getting stuck with Snape."

I hadn't even thought of that!

A heavy feeling weighed on my chest at the thought, and the beginnings of an anxiety attack began to bloom from the pit of my stomach to my throat. "You're right," I said, attempting to even out my suddenly erratic breathing. "That's worse."

Jen, sensing the sudden anxiety she had thoughtlessly brought on, attempted to change the mood. "Ha! I'll hex the grease out of his hair before he ruins my perfect N.E.W.T. score!"

I smiled, grateful to her for trying to cheer me up.

"What d'you think Bellatrix Black looks like without hair?" she asked, pulling at my sleeve.

I blinked. "Bald."

We stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"You're an idiot, Lily Evans," Jen laughed, throwing an arm over my shoulder as we made our way out of the kitchens and down toward the dungeons.

"I could have told you that!" called a sunny Marlene from down the corridor. She ran up to us and dug through her messenger bag, draped coolly over one shoulder, and handed me a scroll. "This is for you, Madame Tutor."

Her smile was irresistible even when she was teasing me. "You're impossible," I replied, taking the essay from her proffered hand. "But thank you. It will save us both a lot of headaches if we stay on schedule."

She threw me a wink and a salute before peeling back down the way she came, no doubt to butter up Slughorn for the Potions partner she actually wanted this quarter. It wasn't news that our Potions Master was easily persuaded to pull some strings for you if you happened to win his favor, but I didn't think it was all that noble to do so unless you were desperate.

Clearly, Marlene felt differently.

And she wasn't the only one.

When we arrived, a crowd of students had gathered around Professor Slughorn's desk at the front of the room. He was grinning, giddy with the attention, undoubtedly savoring every compliment that his growing flock of admirers could think up.

Upon catching my eye, his grin widened and he waved me over. "Miss Evans! Please join us! We are having the most interesting of debates!"

Debate?

"We are discussing the effects of salt-based potions on soil chemistry."

Perhaps I had misjudged my classmates. I made my way over to him. "Oh?"

"Yes, yes, it's very interesting. Mister Potter is convinced that we should limit the amount of salt-based potions we use outdoors, as it has adverse effects on the soil," Slughorn said, giggling.

I glanced over to see that Potter was indeed there, poring over a giant, dusty book that appeared to be as old as Hogwarts itself.

Potter looked up and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Salty soil becomes a hostile environment for most living organisms. Whatever's growing in it dies," he explained.

"Except for some species of murkwood," drawled a low voice. Before I could stop myself, I followed it to the sallow, hook-nosed face of my ex-best friend, Severus Snape.

His black eyes locked with mine for the briefest of seconds, but I blinked down at my hands as that heavy feeling pressed down on my chest, and I had to concentrate very hard on my breaths before it passed.

"In fact, those species of murkwood require the salinity that salt-based potions would provide, and thrive in such instances," Snape continued. His voice dragged monotonously as though bored, but I knew he was just nervous speaking in front of so many people. "If we limit our use of these potions for the sake of most living organisms, we also condemn one of the most useful ingredients to extinction."

"Well said, Severus!" Professor Slughorn cheered, clapping his hands. "Mister Potter?"

Potter drew himself up to his full height and turned to stare Snape down. Snape didn't flinch. "So you would destroy whole environment for the sake of one plant that could easily acquire the salt it needs in its natural environment by the sea?"

Snape didn't answer, merely kept a cool, detached gaze on him.

Encouraged, Potter went on. "To allow the use of salt-based potions in environments other than the seaside does nothing but condone destruction to the soil's ecology and invite non-native magical species to invade!"

Before Slughorn could burst into applause—which he looked very near the brink of doing—Snape curled his lip into a snarl. "And what, Potter, would you propose to use as a substitution for salt, if one had to use such a potion in a place other than the seaside?"

The class had gone eerily quiet as everyone turned to stare at Potter, whose earlier bravado had begun to falter under the pressure to figure out quantum alchemy with little to no knowledge of the subject.

It was meant to be a rhetorical question—a checkmate for Snape—but I had actually read about this in some Potions journals over the summer.

"Eggshell powder," I answered. "Any kind of avian eggshell should do."

Suddenly, everyone's eyes were on me, and I nearly shrank back at the intensity of the attention.

I mean, really. What were they staring at?

Slughorn raised an eyebrow at me and smiled. "Really?" he asked.

I nodded. "I believe so, Professor. If we must use a salt-based potion with a salt substitution, eggshell powder should work, and as an organic waste product, should be of no harm to the soil."

I glanced over at Potter, who appeared as though someone had just hit him over the head with something very heavy, and then to Snape, who hid a faint scowl beneath a façade of indifference.

"Interesting! So very interesting! What do you think, Severus?" asked a jovial Slughorn.

Snape clenched his jaw. "I think, Sir, that our Head Girl has a very colorful imagination."

My jaw dropped. "Well I think, Sir, that my opponent has a difficult time thinking creatively!" I rebutted hotly.

"I don't doubt your understanding of alchemical mechanics, Evans," Snape retorted, "but I do doubt whether you are familiar with a particular wizarding history that confirms your theory would never work in practice."

I nearly combusted right there.

He might as well have called out my Muggle-born heritage—called me that dreaded, hateful word—Mudblood.

"I'll take that bet," said one, James Potter, Instigator of Every Conflict Known to Wizardkind.

"Excellent idea, Mister Potter!" exclaimed Slughorn, who was probably just relieved that someone had stopped his two favorite students from hexing each other in the middle of the dungeon. "I was going to assign an essay on the properties of bowtruckles, but why not do something a bit more exciting? Let's run an experiment!"

At our lack of excitement at the idea, Slughorn decided to up the ante. "Winners are excused from homework this week!"

"Alright!" shouted Sirius Black. He and Pettigrew high-fived.

"Now, since your schoolwork is on the line, you will choose which side you're on: Miss Evans suggests that substituting eggshell powder for salt in a salt-based potion is theoretically possible while Mister Snape maintains it is not." Slughorn beamed and clapped his hands. "So, both will be brewing an identical potion, with one exception: Miss Evans will use eggshell powder, and Mister Snape will use salt. If Miss Evan's potion works, she wins. If it doesn't, Mister Snape wins. Class, choose your victors."

Potter made a beeline towards me. "Blimey, Evans. You'd better be right about this."

The class divided itself almost neatly between houses. Most Slytherins were on Snape's side, and most Gryffindors were on mine.

"Don't muck this up, Lily," Mary said, writing her name down on the piece of parchment Slughorn had given my team in order to record their allegiance.

"She won't," responded Remus, who plucked a quill from behind Black's ear and wrote his name with a flourish below Mary's. "I'd thought of eggshell powder, too, but I don't like talking in front of so many people."

Black snatched his quill from Remus's hand and scribbled his name on the piece of parchment. "They don't deserve to hear you and your batty thoughts, anyway, Moony."

"I just hope I can get some relief on homework," mumbled Pettigrew. "Kettleburn is killing me with all the field reports we have to do each week."

"Ah, no worries, mate," said Potter. "If Evans here loses, I'll let you do my homework, too!"

Pettigrew threw a wry glare at him. "Cheers, Prongs. Knew I could always count on you."

Slughorn assigned us Pepper-Up Potions, to which Potter silently hooted, as apparently his ancestor had something to do with its invention. When I presented to him nothing akin to understanding, he smiled shyly and said, "It's a good sign, Evans. Promise."

With all the opposition I had across the room, blatantly glaring at me and smirking evilly, I could use whatever good signs Potter divined.

We divided the labor among the team as equally as we could. Jen teamed up with a pair of Slytherins that had chosen my side to write the lab report. Mary, Marlene, and Pettigrew were responsible for prepping the ingredients. Remus and I were to calculate the alchemical properties of eggshell powder in combination with the rest of the ingredients in the potion, and make adjustments where necessary. Black was our messenger, running back information between groups, and Potter fell easily into the roles of coach and manager, keeping us on task and on target.

Twenty minutes later, Remus and I had figured out the exact proportions of mandrake root to peppermint leaves. Remus retreated to Black's side, leaving Potter and me to actually brew the potion.

Mary had sifted the eggshell powder to fine granules, which Potter stirred counterclockwise into our base mix. I held my breath, as this was the moment of truth. If our calculations had been correct, the potion would turn from crimson to a bright orange.

Nothing happened.

"Crap," I muttered.

"What's wrong?" asked Potter, peering over at the open textbook and the hasty notes in Remus's scrawl beside it.

"It's still blood red!" I whispered, trying not to alarm the rest of the team.

Potter frowned. "It should be working. I've done everything Remus instructed—by the way, how did you figure that the potion should simmer at the same temperature as the original?"

A jolt of realization went through me as it dawned on me that neither Remus nor I had actually factored in the base temperature for our new calculations.

"Double crap!" I hissed. I seized Remus's notes and skimmed over them, did some quick calculations in my head, and immediately turned up the heat beneath our cauldron.

"Careful now," warned Potter, as he continued to stir the potion counterclockwise. We both peered over the cauldron with bated breath.

We watched as the deep red hue of the potion began to give way to a glowing auburn. I practically tackled Potter in a celebratory side-hug. "Yes!" I cried. "We did it!"

Potter, whose glasses had gone askew when I had attacked him, elegantly fixed them upon his nose and beamed. "You did it."

The way he'd said it carried so much warmth that it filled me up where I hadn't known I was empty. I beamed back up at him, catching his laughing eyes with mine, and feeling compelled to hug him again.

I didn't, though, because Remus came over and said, "Quick! Add the peppermint leaves!"

"AH! The peppermint leaves!"

I'd almost forgotten the most important ingredient of the Pepper-Up Potion!

Because I'd wanted to hug Potter?!

Potter?

The bloke that tried to use a Star Wars pick-up line on me just the night before?

Ha.

Clearly there was more than just eggshell powder in the air.

I shook off the urge to run into the potions cupboard in embarrassment, and braved the ensuing silence as I dropped the peppermint leaves into our outrageously orange potion. At this stage, we had to turn down the heat and leave the potion to simmer for ten minutes, at which time the resulting draught should crackle and pop at the surface. (Note: This is not the same as boiling. It's literally magic.)

After we were satisfied that the lower temperature was right for the proportion of ingredients we were using, Potter and I set a timer for ten minutes and sat back down with our respective groups of friends.

Jen introduced me to the Slytherins with whom she'd been working: Abed Cassimi and Harriet Seabury.

They were both Muggle-borns and outcasts in their own houses. So obviously, they were the best of friends.

"How come I didn't know this before?" I asked.

Abed shrugged, his lanky form all but disappearing beneath his long school robes. "You were Snape's friend," he responded by way of explanation.

Harriet's expression was sheepish. "He wasn't the most civil towards us."

I glanced over at Severus, who was already bottling a vial of Pepper-Up Potion. It was a piercing orange color.

I sighed and slouched into my chair. "I'm really sorry about that. If it helps, he wasn't the most civil towards me, either. In the end."

Abed nodded, but he didn't say anything else.

"So," started Marlene. I could tell immediately by the tone of her voice where this was going. I tried to stop her with a glare, but she went there anyway. "What was it like? Arms around Potter, smiling dreamily into each other's eyes?"

"Oh, go sod yourself," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

She and the rest of the group laughed, Marlene hardest and loudest of all.

"I do hope your potion lives up to the confidence with which you are enjoying yourselves," rang Slughorn's voice through our laughter.

"Of course, Sir," returned Potter. "Although, even if it doesn't, better to enjoy ourselves now that we have the chance, eh?"

Slughorn chuckled. "Quite right, Potter."

Potter lounged easily in his chair, smiling cheerfully without a care in the world. If it was only an essay on bowtruckles that was on the line, I didn't see why any of us would be so worried, so I didn't begrudge anyone of us our ten minutes of reprieve before the Actual Moment of Truth.

Our timer went off exactly when our potion began to crackle and pop with a sparkling ferocity. I held out a vial to Potter as he ladled in a sample of our potion. It was an electric shade of orange. We grinned at each other and held it out to our team. They applauded, Black and Pettigrew hooting and cheering.

However correct it all appeared, we would not know whether or not it was in working order until Slughorn performed various tests on the potion.

"Alright, everyone, settle down," called our professor as he held up two vials of orange liquid. "In my hands I hold two Pepper-Up potions. Anyone care to tell me what will happen to them if I add toadstool?"

Remus whispered something into Potter's ear and Potter's hand shot up.

So did Snape's.

Slughorn called on Snape first. "It will turn a murky blue color," he said.

"And?" When Snape did not immediately respond, he called, "Potter?"

Potter frowned, apparently lost. "Erm—it'll taste very bad, Sir. And not be very useful as a Pepper-Up Potion, I imagine."

"Exactly." Slughorn winked at him.

Potter let out a breath, relieved.

Snape scowled, and Bellatrix glared in my direction.

I felt myself sink lower into my seat in sudden panic. If Snape's team lost, that would just be another reason for all of them to hate me.

And possibly plot my murder.

"Now what would happen if I cast a Scourging Spell on the potion?" he asked.

Oh, Slughorn. Asking basic alchemical theory questions.

Abed raised his hand. "Sir, you would Scourge the Potion of all perceived decay. In this case, all deteriorating organic matter, which would leave you with a base mix of molten crystals."

"And what color would that be, Cassimi?" Slughorn asked.

"Since our base is made of rose quartz, I'd say pink, Sir."

Slughorn smiled. "Correct."

"Now let's see. Of the two methods I have described, which would be best to test the potion?"

The class erupted in a near five-minute debate at this question, until finally, Remus tentatively put his hand into the air.

"Mister Lupin?" said Slughorn calmly and with a smile. "Which of the two is the best test?"

Remus's eyes flit back and forth across the sea of classmates in the room. He finally fixed his gaze on Slughorn's hands. "Neither, sir," he answered.

Slughorn's smile grew wider. "Then how shall we test the potions against each other?"

"Moonwort, Sir."

Moonwort?

Moonwort?

What?!

The whole class fell into a mystified silence as we contemplated exactly what Remus was getting at.

Slughorn was practically hopping with giddiness. "And why moonwort, Mister Lupin?"

"Moonwort has been known to bloom in immediate response to a perfectly brewed Pepper-Up Potion, which produces effects similar to that of a full moon." Remus could hardly bring himself to look away from the potions vials, though I was attempting desperately to make eye contact with him.

His shoulders shifted visibly beneath his thin robes.

"And what happens if an imperfectly brewed Pepper-Up Potion is applied to moonwort, Mister Lupin?"

Finally, he looked up and met Slughorn's steady gaze. "It dies, Sir."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," replied Slughorn, grinning toothily.

"As it so happens, Professor Glade is growing moonwort. Why don't we go out to the greenhouses and ask for a few sprouts?"

I didn't think any of us could take the anticipation any longer.

I just wanted to know if I could plan on taking a nap sometime this week or not. That's it. That's all I cared about anymore.

Well that and not getting murdered.

That was a thing I would definitely like to avoid.

When we'd made it to the greenhouses and Professor Slughorn had talked Professor Glade into giving us two specimens of moonwort, she had wanted to participate, and so she and Slughorn each had a vial of Pepper-Up Potion in hand, ready to pour it on the unsuspecting pots of moonwort.

"Bottoms up!" exclaimed Professor Slughorn, and he and Professor Glade poured bubbling cascades of bright orange liquid onto the dark and thorny brambles of moonwort.

Then, slowly, the plant in Professor Slughorn's pot began to open up one of its blossoms. Its petals were a gorgeous opal color, glistening like nebulas in the sunlight. I imagined it must be more beautiful under the light of the moon.

"Congratulations, Mister Snape," said Slughorn.

I pouted and stared woefully at the remaining, unmoving moonwort.

Oh great. I'd killed it!

Perhaps I deserved whatever murder Bellatrix had planned for me after all.

Slughorn sighed. "It was a very good effort, Miss Evans," he praised.

Which was just a polite way of saying, YOU FAILED!

I couldn't bring myself to look at Snape, but I knew he must look very pleased with himself, proving me wrong in such a public way. I heard Bellatrix cackle maliciously as she mumbled, "Serves her right, the little wretch."

I clenched my fist around my wand in my robe's pocket and squeezed my eyes shut against the pounding anger in my ears. If I concentrated hard enough, I wouldn't cry.

Jen clapped her hand on my shoulder. "Don't listen to her, Lily. She's a bully."

I turned to face her and was about to tell her that it wasn't just about Bellatrix; it was about proving that Muggle-borns could change the face of magic, that Muggle-borns deserved to be here, that I deserved to be here.

But Pettigrew drew me away from my thoughts. "Professor, look!" he exclaimed.

Steam began to rise from the moonwort in Professor Glade's pot. We all gasped collectively and leaned in to watch it magically unfurl its opalescent petals and glitter in the light. Then, quite unexpectedly, another blossom grew on the stalk next to it and bloomed in the same dramatic, sparkling manner. Two other blossoms grew and bloomed in the pot, far surpassing our expectations.

I looked up at Slughorn. He was utterly gobsmacked. "Professor?"

He was gaping as he turned to me. He grabbed my hand in his and said, "You've done it, Miss Evans! Well done!"

I was stunned.

I had done it! I was a superstar!

I was now and forevermore known as Potions Mistress Lily Evans, Environmentalist and Quantum Alchemist.

Slughorn proceeded to individually congratulate everyone on my team. Grinning happily, he assigned the losing team a three-foot essay on the alchemical mechanics of eggshell powder.

I offered the journals I'd read to anyone who was interested, but no one took me up on the offer. No matter. I was quite contented, having proved Snape and his Pureblood-supremacist friends wrong about my merits as a Muggle-born.

Potter high-fived everyone on our team with great fervor, but when he got to me, his hand faltered and he dropped it to his side.

Talk about awkward.

To lighten the mood, I sheepishly said, "We would have totally failed if you hadn't caught our oversight with the base temperature."

He ran a hand through his jet black hair and laughed nervously. "Well, I wouldn't have been able to calculate it as quickly as you did."

"I guess we make a good team."

"Yeah," he agreed. He lifted his hand in the air again, and I high-fived it. He smiled. "We do."

Jen pulled me away and back towards the dungeons with the rest of the class to collect our belongings. "So. That was pretty civil of you."

I stared at her, bewildered. "What was?"

"You, complimenting James." She smirked.

I rolled my eyes. "We have to work together all year," I said. "It only makes sense to keep the peace."

"So it's just convenient to be civil to him?"

"Exactly," I answered. I felt a twinge of guilt as I recalled that moment over the cauldron when our potion had turned that telltale orange. But whatever, she didn't need to know that I wanted to hug Potter.

As we entered the castle doors, someone shoved into me so hard that I was sent sprawling on the flagstone floors. I looked up just in time to see Bellatrix Black grinning maniacally ahead of me. For the second time in two days, she dragged her wand across her throat threateningly. I couldn't miss her meaning.

Marlene helped me back up on my feet. "Rotten luck, mate," she said.

Yeah.

Bellatrix Black was going to kill me.