"Aldridge, Rebecca."

Lena watched with interest as the first student to be sorted walked to the front of the Great Hall, where the Sorting Hat sat on a stool. It was one of the girls Lena had met on the Hogwarts Express, the brunette. It occurred to Lena that when she had gone back to check on them just before they had arrived at the station, she had forgotten to find out the names of Erin's three friends. Nor had she given them hers.

Professor Flitwick – as Professor McGonagall was absent from the Hall for some reason – placed the Hat on Rebecca Aldridge's head, the brim falling over her eyes. The Hall waited for the Hat's declaration with bated breath.

"RAVENCLAW!" roared the Hat. The table directly next to the Slytherins erupted into cheers and applause. For some strange reason, the houses always took great pride in being the first one called at a Sorting.

"She's one of the ones I was telling you about," Lena murmured to Maggie, who was sitting to her right. "Not the one who was hyperventilating, but one of her friends."

"Uh-huh," replied Maggie distractedly. "Bloody hell, the new Defence teacher's looking a bit rough." She squinted at the staff table. "Are those scars on his face? Because if so, that's not an entirely promising sign..."

Lena made a noncommittal noise. Internally, she was restraining herself from pointing out that the scars were an obvious indicator of his lycanthropy. Back when she'd first seen him on the train, it hadn't really occurred to her that the other students – having not spent the last seven summers in Knockturn Alley, the one place in Britain where one could be fairly certain of finding at least one werewolf at any time – wouldn't recognise what Professor Lupin was. It was only when she'd gone back to Maggie and Rolf, and told them she had encountered the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, that she'd realised it probably wasn't a good idea to mention his... monthly situation. The chances were if he was teaching, his condition wasn't public knowledge.

Not that she didn't trust Maggie and Rolf to keep a secret. No, it was more that it was... well, just bad manners.

"Fitzroy, Tiffany."

Her attention was brought back to the Sorting as the blonde First Year, the one who'd originally asked her for help, confidently went up to the Hat. A few seconds after it was placed on her head, it cried, "SLYTHERIN!"

As Lena clapped for the new addition to her house, the girl, Tiffany, caught her eye. Then, before Lena quite realised what was happening, Tiffany was making a beeline for her and, reaching the table, plonked herself down directly opposite Lena.

"Hello again," said the small girl cheerfully.

This never-before-seen move drew the attention of the majority of Slytherin house, as well as a few nearby Ravenclaws. Maggie was staring at the girl, bewildered by the eleven-year-old's audacity.

The whole ridiculousness of the situation was threatening to make Lena laugh, but she suppressed the urge. Instead, she simply gave Tiffany a benign smile, and said, "Welcome to Slytherin. I don't think I introduced myself before – I'm Lena."

The fact that so many of the Slytherins were apparently flabbergasted by the sight of Lena Lestrange being nice to a child meant that there was a slight delay in the applause for Astoria Greengrass' Sorting into Slytherin. But when the young Greengrass chose not to sit in close proximity to Lena, it appeared that some sense of normalcy had returned for the Slytherins, and they started paying attention to the Sorting again. However, Lena could see that over at the Hufflepuff table, Rolf was still smirking at her. Lena didn't need to be a Legilimens to know what he was thinking: One day as Head Girl, and you're already adopting little kids.

In response, she gave him her best vampiric smile, making Rolf wipe the smirk off his face because nor did he need to be a Legilimens to read it: Piss off, or I won't help you with homework for a month.

"Hughes, Erin."

With mild interest, Lena watched as the Muggle-born girl joined her friend in Ravenclaw. They were both seated not far away from Tiffany, and the girls were all exchanging grins and thumbs-up gestures.

Their fourth friend, 'Nyambura, Eve', was also sorted into Slytherin.

"Hi," she said, a little more shy than Tiffany had been, as she sat next to her friend.

"Hey," replied Lena.

"Her name's Lena," Tiffany told Eve. "And this is–" She looked at Maggie.

"Maggie," she said, her expression utterly bemused.

"Hello," Eve greeted her, before looking back at Lena. "Erin wanted me to tell you that she's feeling much better now, and thank you again for helping her."

"Good to hear."

As the rest of the Sorting continued, Lena made a note of each of the First Years joining Slytherin. There were thirteen of them, mostly from well-known Wizarding families. They either sat together, or with their older siblings and cousins who were also in Slytherin – the sole exceptions being Tiffany and Eve. From what Lena could gather, they were both the first members of their families to be sorted into the snake-pit.

After the last First Year was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor Flitwick picked up the Hat and the stool and carried them out through the teachers' entrance. At the same time, the main doors opened, and McGonagall, followed by Harry and Hermione, entered. Lena guessed that the Transfiguration teacher had found out about Harry fainting on the train, and had wanted to check he was all right. Why she'd needed to see Hermione, however, was beyond Lena. Before she could give any more thought to it, the Headmaster stood up to speak.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."

He cleared his throat and continued. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl–" he made eye contact with Lena for a split second, "–to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors."

"No pressure," muttered Maggie out of the corner of her mouth. "Any kid gets their soul sucked out, and it's on you."

Lena rolled her eyes. "Brilliant," she sarcastically mouthed to Maggie, as Dumbledore looked very seriously around the Hall.

"On a happier note," the Headmaster continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Remus attempted a smile when Dumbledore introduced him to the students, hoping it concealed how uncomfortable he felt. He was feeling particularly self-conscious, now he was sat with the rest of the staff. None of their robes were threadbare or patched.

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause for him, although there was a slightly louder section at the Gryffindor table – Harry and his friends who'd shared his compartment.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued, as the lukewarm applause died away, "well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that this place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his game-keeping duties."

Remus clapped loudly, delighted for his former fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix. The applause coming from the Gryffindor table was particularly thunderous. He looked over at the huge man, sitting near the other end of the table from him. His face had gone ruby red and he was staring down at his hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard. As the applause finally died down, Remus could see Hagrid wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

Throughout the Great Hall, the golden plates and goblets suddenly filled with food and drink. For a few seconds, Remus could only stare at the dishes and dishes of bread rolls, pies, roast vegetables, cuts of meat and much, much more. He'd forgotten the excessive amount the Hogwarts' house-elves prepared for every meal.

Back when he was a student, he would have filled his plate layers high, and finished it with room to spare in his stomach. But the years since then of having to carefully ration his food meant that now all he took was a bread roll, a thin slice of roast beef, and a small helping of peas and carrots. 'That's enough for tonight,' he told himself. 'Any more, and you'll make yourself sick.'

"I think Poppy's going to be singing your praises for the next few days, Remus."

Startled, Remus looked up from his plate. It was Professor McGonagall – Minerva, he had to remind himself to call her – who had spoken. She was sitting two seats over on his right, Professor Sprout – Pomona – in between them.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry?"

"Potter said you gave him and the other students in their compartment chocolate," explained Minerva. "Poppy was very pleased to know that we have a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher that actually knows how to treat students who have run-ins with Dark creatures."

Pomona, who was tucking into a large piece of steak-and-kidney pie, snorted. "It's nice to know that we have a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who's actually had a run-in with a Dark creature himself, considering the last one wrote about a dozen books about other people's encounters, and passed them off as his own."

Remus frowned. "Yes, I don't imagine that the students, after a year with Lockhart as their teacher, are at the stage they're supposed to be." That reminded him of something. "Actually, Pro– Minerva," he corrected himself, "I was wondering – where are all the students' academic records kept?"

Two hours later found Remus sitting in his new office, all his luggage yet to be unpacked. Instead, twenty-three boxes of files were sitting on the floor, and one on his desk, its contents emptied out. They were the Defence Against the Dark Arts files for each student, containing a record of every mark they'd received on a piece of assessment, and at least one example of their work from every year – some essays, some exam papers. And for the new Defence teacher, it was terrifying to behold.

'Merlin's beard,' thought Remus despairingly, 'they know nothing. They've been taught nothing.'

He was currently looking through the Third Year Hufflepuffs' records. So far, the only assessment examples he could find from the previous year were quizzes that were entirely based upon Lockhart's books. There had been no end-of-year exams, so there weren't even final grades.

Putting the last file back in the box, Remus leant back in his chair and sighed. He'd been hoping to draw upon his own experience as a Hogwarts student to complete his lesson plans, but these students were so far behind. He would have to find a way to condense a lot of topics so the students would actually be able to sit valid exams nine months from now.

He glanced over the rest of the Third Years' records – dwelling a little longer over Harry's – then moved on to the Fourth Years, but they were much the same story. As were the Fifth Years, and the Sixth Years...

It wasn't until he got to the final box, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin Seventh Years, that anything stood out. The Ravenclaw students, as per usual, appeared to be at a higher standard than their Gryffindor and Hufflepuff counterparts, even if it wasn't where they would have been during Remus' time at Hogwarts. But the Slytherins... well, their files were a fascinating read.

There were nine of them. And up until the end of their Fifth Year, there was nothing particularly remarkable about eight of them, except for one that began to dramatically improve in her Fifth Year. Throughout Sixth Year, however...

Lockhart had given them very broad topics for their essays, and his marking of them only further proved how truly clueless he was in the subject. But reading the essays himself, Remus was genuinely stunned. It wasn't that they were all spectacularly good, but compared to their work from the previous years, the increase in quality was staggering.

For instance, a boy named Marcus Flint had gone from just barely passing his OWL to being on the verge of an E student at NEWT standard. And the only thing holding him back was poor spelling and grammar – certainly not the actual content of his essay.

As far as Remus could recall, barely any students ever managed to maintain their OWL mark as their average grade in their first year of NEWT study. And he was struggling to think of anyone who had ever improved. But now, he had been provided with eight examples of it, and all from the same house. All Remus could think was how?

His immediate thought, of course, was cheating; getting someone else to do their work for them. But each essay had its own unique voice. And although they hadn't sat any final exams, there were several quizzes Lockhart had set them, and the marks corresponded quite accurately to their assignment work.

Remus shook his head. Slytherins might have had a reputation for being sneaky, but a cheating scheme that good was surely even beyond them. So that left...

He turned his gaze to the ninth file. The name on the front read Lena Lestrange.

Remus would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't been taken aback when she'd introduced herself to him on the Hogwarts Express. Not just at hearing the name 'Lestrange', but that she was Head Girl as well. And then her interaction with Harry, that suggested they were... friends.

He frowned. Neville Longbottom certainly didn't share the camaraderie. Remus hadn't put two-and-two together until the train had arrived at the station, and Harry's friend – Hermione, he thought her name was – had said his name when speaking to him. It was only in the carriage on the way to Hogwarts that Remus remembered Frank and Alice's son's name was Neville.

By the look Harry had given Neville, Remus could tell that he was unaware of Lena and Neville's parents' intertwining fates. He winced: that must have been a horrible moment for Neville, when he'd found out the daughter of his parents' torturers was at his school. He wondered if the boy had even been aware she existed before he came to Hogwarts.

Remus himself had been aware of her existence; he just hadn't considered that she would be at Hogwarts. Just the idea of a child of convicted Death Eaters being a student here hadn't crossed his mind.

It was strange, though, now he thought about it. It had in fact been on the Hogwarts Express that he'd first come to know about Bellatrix Lestrange's child. Eighteen years ago, to the very day...

Monday 1 September, 1975:

Remus hesitated before sliding open the compartment door, mentally preparing himself for the ribbing from his friends.

They didn't disappoint.

"Uh-oh, boys," said Sirius in a mock-serious voice. He was lying on his back across one set of seats. "Better make sure we behave ourselves, a Prefect has joined us."

Opposite Sirius, Peter snickered. Next to him, James smirked, and added, "Yeah, wouldn't want him to put us in detention, would we?"

"Piss off," replied Remus calmly, walking over to Sirius and whacking him on the shins. The shaggy-haired boy swung his legs off the seats and sat up.

James made a tutting noise. "Now, that's not very Prefectorial language."

Sirius chuckled. "Yeah," he said to Remus as the werewolf took his seat next to him, "careful, or you'll have to put yourself in detention."

Remus shrugged. "Considering we've got OWLs at the end of the year, I might take that option every now and then if it means I'll have some time to study without you lot bothering me."

"If by 'bothering' you mean 'encouraging you to actually have fun once in a while', that just shows all the more why you need us around," said Sirius, grinning roguishly.

"How was your meeting with the geek squad, anyway?" asked James, his expression disdainful.

"It was fine," said Remus flatly. Then a thought occurred to him, and he gave friend James a malicious smile. "I had an excellent chat with Lily."

James straightened up like a metal rod had been shoved down the back of his shirt. "Evans is a Prefect?" he said, his voice almost half an octave higher than before.

Peter snorted. "Of course she would be. She's smart, she's responsible, she hardly ever gets into trouble, she's pretty, she's–"

"I don't think physical attractiveness is actually a trait the teachers consider when selecting Prefects, Peter," interrupted Remus, trying not to laugh at the slight glare James was giving Peter for making even the smallest implication that someone other than James might fancy Lily Evans.

"Of course it's not," added Sirius, "otherwise I'd be the Prefect, not Remus."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Humility, on the other hand..." he muttered.

"So what did you talk to Evans about?" demanded James, his eyes narrowed at Remus.

Remus folded his arms. "None of your business."

"What?" said – or rather, screeched – James. "You can't–"

"Relax, mate," cut in Sirius. "It's not like he asked her out." He glanced at Remus out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "Although that would be hilarious if you did..."

"I didn't, but thanks for giving me the idea."

"No problem, mate, that's what a good wingman like me is for."

James sunk back in seat with a scowl. "I hate you both."

Peter cleared his throat. "Well, if we've finished discussing Remus' dating life–" James made an indistinct grunting noise, "– then maybe Sirius can get back to telling us his news."

Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius, whose face lost its joviality. "You have news?"

"He was about to tell us before you came back in," explained Peter.

Taking in his friend's less-than-happy expression, Remus had a hunch of what topic the news pertained to. "I'm guessing it's family stuff?"

Across from them, James dropped his sourness and adopted a more concerned look, watching his best friend intently.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, family stuff." He said the word 'family' as if it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "There was a whole gathering for Regulus' birthday. Everyone was there." He grimaced. "Even dear cousin Bella and her delightful husband."

Remus had never met or even seen Bellatrix Lestrange, but from the little that Sirius had told his friends, combined with the public perception of the Black and Lestrange families, he got the impression that she was... well, awful. Truly awful.

"Anyway," continued Sirius, "while everyone was sitting down for dinner, the conversation turned, like it usually does, to You-Know-Who. And Bellatrix – well, just short of coming right out and saying 'I'm a Death Eater'–"

"But she's definitely one of them," James cut in, nodding. "And her husband, what's-his-name–"

"Rodolphus," said Sirius. "And his brother too."

"Isn't just admitting that you're one enough grounds to be arrested now?" asked Peter.

"Yeah, but it's not like anyone else in my family's going to turn them in," Sirius pointed out. "Instead, we congratulate them." The anger in his voice was palpable.

"Well, it's pretty likely the Ministry already suspects them," reasoned Remus. "It's not like they've ever hidden their anti-Muggle sentiments."

"Right," agreed James. "And from everything you've told us, she's arrogant and fanatical enough that she'll probably slip up soon, and then bam," he pounded a fist against his hand, "it'll be off to Azkaban."

But Sirius shook his head. "She's evil, but she's not stupid. Unless the Ministry falls, she's not going to announce her allegiance to the world." He sighed in frustration, then slumped back. "That's not all, though." He made a face. "She's pregnant."

James let out a whistle. "A baby Bellatrix? Merlin."

"Poor kid," murmured Remus.

Peter gave Remus a confused look."Why? I mean, if it's their baby, it's going to be just like them."

"Like I am?" asked Sirius quietly.

Remus gave Sirius a sidelong glance. He'd suspected that was what was bothering his friend so much about the news.

Peter, meanwhile, was looking abashed. "That not what I–"

Sirius waved his hand impatiently. "I know, mate. And you're probably right – chances are that their kid's going to grow up to be as awful as them." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But–"

"But if you can be that different from your parents, then that shows there's a possibility their baby could be too," finished James. "Even if it's a tiny possibility."

Sirius nodded, his face still uncharacteristically grave. "And growing up with my parents has been..." He hesitated. "Well, it's been bad enough. But Bellatrix is worse."

Remus screwed his eyes shut, and rubbed his temples angrily. It wasn't a good idea to dwell on such memories. Trying to reconcile the Sirius Black he remembered with the traitor and mass murderer he had proved to be was a painful and pointless exercise.

'Going to be a little difficult to avoid this year, isn't it?' he pointed out to himself. 'Now that you're back at Hogwarts, he's escaped from Azkaban, and James and Lily's son is one of your students.' The file open on his desk drew his gaze once again. 'And now her as well...'

He was fairly certain he'd come up against Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange during the War, but they'd been wearing their Death Eater masks. It wasn't until he had seen their photos in the Daily Prophet following their arrest that he had first ever properly seen Bellatrix's face. And now having met her seventeen-year-old daughter, a certain resemblance was undeniable. One could practically see the blood of the Black family running through her veins: the black hair, the prominent cheekbones, that certain air of confidence they all exuded.

And she was brilliant. That much was evident from her schoolwork. Her classmates were good, but she was on another level. Her essays were at least at a professionally academic standard, and as far as he could see, there was only one occasion on which she hadn't received one hundred percent (or more) on an exam (she'd gotten one question wrong on a Second Year test). He had always considered Sirius, James and Lily to be three of the most naturally gifted wizards and witches he'd ever known, but none of them could have discussed the relationship between jinxes and their corresponding counter-jinxes as eloquently as Lena Lestrange had as a – he checked the date on the paper he was reading – First Year. It was clear from all her other work her knowledge of magical theory extended far past anything that was taught at Hogwarts. And according to the notes from her previous teachers on the practical sections of her exams, every spell she'd been asked to perform had been "executed to perfection".

In any case, her exceptional ability did present one possible solution for her housemates' dramatic improvement in the subject – she had started helping them the previous school year.

'But why only last year?' thought Remus. 'What changed?'

Lockhart. Remus scratched his chin thoughtfully. Was it possible that last year's Sixth Year Slytherins had become so fed up with their teacher's ineptness that they had turned to their smartest classmate for help?

It seemed so unlikely, a move so uncharacteristic for Slytherin students – banding together to help each other out.

'Or maybe I'm just prejudiced,' Remus admitted to himself. 'Still too much of a Gryffindor.'

He checked his teaching timetable – Minerva had handed them out to all the teachers during their brief staff meeting following the feast. He scanned it for his first lesson with the Seventh Year Ravenclaw/Slytherin class. Thursday, 2pm - 3pm. His third class of tomorrow, straight after lunch.

He glanced at the clock on his office wall – four-minutes-past midnight. He checked the timetable again. His first class wasn't until ten o'clock, so combined with the fact that he'd had a good amount of sleep on the train today, he didn't mind working for another couple of hours.

After reading all the Seventh Years' academic records, it was clear that he needed to start by giving them a test, to gage where exactly they all were at the moment. So now he just needed to compile one.

Closing Lena Lestrange's file and putting it back in the box, Remus wondered if she was as good at all her other subjects, or if Defence Against the Dark Arts was a speciality. It was definitely something worth raising with the other teachers, particularly if it wasn't just his subject that had seen an improvement in her classmates.

He put the box on the floor, then stretched out his arms until he heard a cracking noise from both. He had his work cut out for him tonight. As he started searching for parchment, he felt the nervous anticipation of properly meeting his students the next day. And one student in particular.

As it so happened, that particular student was still awake. She was standing in her dormitory bathroom, having just got out of the shower. But instead of putting her pyjamas on, she was standing, naked and still dripping wet, in front of the mirror, staring at her chest.

More specifically, she was staring at the black mark over her heart, the mark left by her connection to Hecate's Orb.

Because there was absolutely no doubt about it.

The mark had grown.