Friday 5 November, 1993:

It was the small conveniences that magic afforded one that Lena was desperately missing. Small conveniences such as being able to Summon a book off a shelf that was too high to reach manually.

Lena appraised the stack of shelves in front of her. They looked sturdy enough to hold her weight for a few seconds so she could grab An Advanced Guide to the Demotic Script off the top shelf. She scanned the surrounding area of the library. Satisfied there was no one in close proximity who could observe her efforts, she quickly climbed onto the second bottom shelf, snatched her desired tome from its place, and jumped back off just before the stack of shelves started to topple over.

Steadying the bookshelf, Lena furtively looked around again, and sighed in relief. Her athletics had gone unnoticed. Which was good, because Lena couldn't think of a reasonable excuse to explain why she couldn't have just used magic to get the book – other than the truth, of course. But telling the truth was out of the question.

As she exited the aisle, Lena flicked through the book, pleased. It looked like it contained everything she needed to finish her Ancient Runes essay due next Monday. Entering the section of the library where the tables were situated, Lena saw that she need not have been so concerned about anyone seeing her climb the bookshelf; apart from Madam Pince, who was sitting at her desk, there was only one other occupant of the library. Lena checked her watch. That explained the emptiness – dinner had just started. She looked back at the table where the only other person was sitting.

It was Hermione Granger. Totally engrossed in her reading, she hadn't yet noticed Lena's presence. Mildly curious, Lena changed her direction slightly so she would pass closer to Hermione's table, in order to see what was holding the young Gryffindor's attention so completely.

When Lena saw the title of the book, she came to an abrupt halt.

It was called Werewolves: The Monsters that Walk Amongst Us.

Lena stared at Hermione, who was still unaware she was being watched.

'Maybe she was just struck by a sudden desire to learn more about werewolves,' thought Lena, but lacking conviction. Harry had told her that his Muggle-born friend was doing five electives, and Lena doubted that sort of workload allowed much time for reading for pleasure. But Harry had also told her that his Defence Against the Dark Arts class were supposed to be studying Hinkypunks after they finished their unit on Grindylows. So what reason would Hermione have for researching lycanthropy, other than being suspicious of a certain teacher who happened to be a werewolf?

Resolved to find out what Hermione actually knew, Lena walked over to her table and dropped her Ancient Runes book on it with a thud. Hermione started at the sound, and upon seeing Lena standing opposite her, the girl's brown eyes widened even further.

"Hello," said Lena, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

"Erm," said Hermione hesitantly, "hello."

Lena pointed at the book in Hermione's hands. "You know that's a load of bullshit, right?"

Hermione glanced down at the book, then back at Lena, confused. "Sorry?"

"Werewolves: The Monsters that Walk Amongst Us," said Lena, as scornfully as she could. She'd looked through the book about five years previously. "The author's massively prejudiced because his older sister was killed by one. He's more concerned about demonising anyone who suffers from lycanthropy than actually learning about the condition."

Hermione frowned. "But it was among Professor Snape's recommended reading for our essay."

"Snape?" Now it was Lena's turn to be confused. "What on earth are you doing in Potions that requires knowledge of werewolves?"

"It's not for Potions," explained Hermione. "Professor Snape took our Defence Against the Dark Arts class today, and he set us an essay on recognising and killing werewolves."

Lena's eyes narrowed. "Did he now?" she said, and pursed her lips. It was a full moon tonight, so that explained why Lupin might not have been well enough to teach his classes. But she seriously doubted that Snape had been teaching the class whatever work Lupin had intended for them to do.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. We were supposed to be starting Hinkypunks today, but–"

"But Snape had his own lesson plan," Lena finished, disturbed. It was no secret amongst the school that Snape intensely disliked Lupin, but what Hermione was telling her implied that this was more than just professional jealousy. An essay on how to recognise werewolves – it sounded like Snape was hoping that someone might put two and two together, and make Professor Wolfie McWolf-Face. So Snape didn't just dislike Lupin: he hated him.

'We should make a club,' thought Lena wryly. 'Him, Harry and me – we could have badges and everything.'

Well, she would definitely tell Lupin about Snape going rogue with his Third Year classes when she saw him on Sunday afternoon for her first resumed Patronus lesson. She wondered how he would take it. Would he be furious with Snape? He certainly had a right to be.

Lena looked at Hermione closely. Had she figured it out yet? Her eyes flicked down to the various sheets of parchment spread in front of Hermione, trying to catch any writing that indicated she had. Instead, her attention was caught by something else: a timetable.

She may have been reading upside down, but on one day, it very clearly said:

9:00am, Divination.

9:00am, Muggle Studies.

9:00am, Arithmancy.

And so on. In fact, it was a similar story for every day.

For a moment, Lena stared at Hermione, absolutely perplexed.

Then it hit her.

"Bloody hell," breathed Lena, amazed. "Did they give you a Time-Turner?"

Hermione's jaw dropped, and she clutched at her neck. "W-what?" she stammered. "N-no, I don't know what–"

Lena waved her hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, you're not allowed to tell anyone, I get it. Let's just pretend we're talking hypothetically, then."

Hermione bit her lip, and looked around the library cautiously. Confirming that it was still just them – and Madam Pince, who was quite a distance away – she gave Lena a small nod, and said, "All right, yes. How did you know?"

Lena gestured to Hermione's timetable. "It's the only logical explanation as to how you could be attending all your classes. And the teachers like and trust you enough to believe you'd behave responsibly with a Time-Turner – just using it for your studies, I mean."

Absentmindedly pulling at the chain around her neck – on which she wore the Time-Turner, Lena supposed – Hermione stared at Lena, seemingly trying to decide upon something. At last, she hesitantly asked, "Have you... have you ever used one?"

"I wish," said Lena enviously. "I mean, I did try to nick one from this Croatian witch when I was nine, but my aunt caught me before I could get it out of her house."

Hermione's expression was torn between disapproving and fascinated. "Why did you want a Time-Turner when you were nine?"

Lena quirked an eyebrow. "Who doesn't want literally more time?"

'Especially when you've only got a limited amount of it left,' she added silently. Subconsciously, she touched her chest.

Not that a Time-Turner would actually give her more time to live. Every hour obtained from a Time-Turner was an hour from one's own life.

"But," she continued aloud, "in all honestly, it's probably a good thing I didn't get to keep it back then." She smiled drily. "Unlike you, I certainly would have behaved very irresponsibly with it." She glanced at her watch and stood up. "Anyway, dinner must be well under way. Shall we head to the Hall?"

Hermione shifted in her seat awkwardly. "Oh, erm–"

It dawned on Lena. "You're in there now, aren't you?"

"I was, yes," said Hermione. "I mean, I am."

Lena smiled. "I, however, am confined by the regular laws of time." She picked up her book from the table. "So I'll be heading off." About to turn around, she paused, remembering what was happening the next day. "Wish Harry the best of luck from me for the game tomorrow, won't you?"

Hermione nodded, returning the smile. "I will." Just as Lena started to walk off, she spoke again. "Er, Lena?"

"Yes?"

Hermione held up Werewolves: The Monsters that Walk Amongst Us. "Is it really all rubbish?" she inquired.

Lena ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "Look," she told Hermione truthfully, "it'll help you write an essay about recognising and killing werewolves. But if you want to understand werewolves, you should look elsewhere."

"Like where?"

It was a struggle for Lena to keep a straight face. 'Well, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office would be a good place to start.'

Saturday 6 November, 1993:

The Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch game had been going for over three hours, and there still didn't appear to be an end in sight. Not that there was much in sight anyway, what with the huge storm that had struck Hogwarts.

Lena was sitting in the top left corner of the Slytherin stands, which were only about twenty-five percent full today due to the weather, and also the fact that their team wasn't playing. She was soaked to the bone, but was doing her best to look as though she didn't mind so as not to raise any questions of why she wasn't using a water-repelling charm.

She squinted at the Hufflepuff end of the pitch. It was hard to make out, but she thought it looked like Gryffindor was about to score again. She was proved correct as seconds later Lee Jordan, barely audible over the heavy rain and thunder, announced, "And Spinnet gets her sixth for the match! Gryffindor leads Hufflepuff one-hundred-and-thirty to thirty!"

Lena scanned the grey sky for Harry. This was by far the longest match he'd ever played; he was usually quite quick to catch the snitch. She pushed off the wet hair that had escaped her plait and was sticking to her face, as her eyes focused on a broom that was just hovering above the rest of the game. Was that Harry? Why wasn't he moving–

Gasps from some nearby Slytherin spectators drew Lena's attention from the sky. They were pointing at something on the ground. Lena followed their gaze, then froze.

Dementors, dozens of them, were encircling the pitch.

'I have to get out of here,' thought Lena desperately, clutching her heart. She stood up so quickly it made her dizzy, and she almost fell back into her seat. Hurriedly, she made her way to the stairs, and had to tightly grip the rails as she descended.

'Please don't do anything,' she silently begged the magic inside of her. 'Just let me feel the same fear and hopelessness everyone else does. Don't fight back, please don't fight back.'

A sudden pain shot through her, and Lena cried out, almost missing the next step. She stopped, shutting her eyes and clinging to the rails.

Lena hadn't noticed the Orb's magic working on the Hogwarts Express. But now that she was trying to fight back against it, she could. And it hurt.

Opening her eyes, she staggered the rest of the way down the stairs. By the time she reached the ground, she was barely managing to keep herself upright. Her head ached, her stomach felt queasy, and the pain in her chest was steadily increasing.

'I need to stop it,' Lena told herself frantically. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Dementors. At least a hundred of them. 'I have to stop them,' she decided.

Lena didn't notice how uneven her steps were as she set off in the direction of the castle, or how her whole body swayed as she walked. Her mind was fixed on a single thought.

'I need to learn the Patronus Charm.'

She didn't even notice that the rain was no longer pelting her as she walked through the Entrance Hall.

'I need to learn the Patronus Charm.'

And she didn't remember, as she stumbled though the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, that it had been a full moon the previous night, and that Professor Lupin was still recovering from his transformation.

'I need to learn the Patronus Charm.'

She climbed the small staircase to Lupin's office, and grabbed the door handle, attempting to turn it. But it wouldn't budge. The door was locked.

Lena fumbled for her wand. But as she pulled it out, one other thought took shape in her mind.

'You can't use any other magic.'

Nodding to herself, she stuffed the wand back in her pocket. That was right, she couldn't use any other magic, only the Patronus Charm.

'That's why I have to learn it.'

So she began to knock on the door. Knocking that soon turned into banging.

"Professor Lupin?" Lena called out, leaning on the door as her fist slammed it again and again. "Professor? Professor!"

"Professor! I need to talk to you! Professor Lupin?"

Remus' eyes fluttered open. Someone was calling out for him. Starting to push himself up, he winced. His entire body was still sore from the transformation.

"Professor!"

Somebody was pounding on the door – not his bedroom door, but the one to his office. Although his body protested, Remus sat up. He moved to the edge of his bed, grabbing his wristwatch off the bedside table. It was just after two o'clock in the afternoon.

"Sir, I need you now!"

Remus blinked, finally recognising the voice. It was Lena's.

Pushing himself off the bed, Remus stumbled to the door. About to open it, it occurred to him that he should probably put some clothes on before talking to Lena.

"Just a minute!" he called out, scrambling for his pyjama pants and a white t-shirt. Pulling them on, he grabbed his wand, flung open the bedroom door and staggered across his office. Unlocking the door, he yanked it open, only to be almost knocked over as a body crashed into him. Just managing to maintain his footing, he took a step back while retaining a firm hold on the body's shoulders.

"Lena, what's–"

"I need to learn the Patronus Charm. Now."

Remus stared at Lena in shock, properly registering her appearance. She was so thoroughly bedraggled she looked as though she'd just climbed out of the Great Lake. But what he found more concerning was the manic expression on her face.

"Merlin, Lena," he said worriedly, "what's happened?"

"Nothing's happened," she replied oddly, taking a step back so she was out of his reach. "I just need a Patronus lesson right now."

Remus frowned. "But we're having one tomorrow afternoon–" he started to say, before being cut off by Lena.

"But I need one now." Her voice was trembling – as was, now Remus noticed, her hands.

"Lena, I think you should sit down," he told her, his hand reaching out for her shoulder.

But Lena took another step back, shaking her head wildly. "No, no. There's no time, I need a lesson now."

Remus eyed her anxiously. Lena usually looked quite sickly, but this was something far more than that. She seemed... delirious.

"I don't think you're in any state to attempt casting a Patronus," he said firmly. "Now, why don't we sit down," he indicated to his desk, "and you can tell me what's going on."

"No!" said Lena violently. "I have to learn the Patronus, I have to, or I'll... I'll..." She began to sway on her feet.

Remus quickly stepped forward, reaching out to her. "Lena, stop, you're not well."

But Lena shuffled back out of his grasp once again. "I know," she cried angrily, "and that's why I need to learn it!"

A frustrated noise escaped Remus. "You're not making any sense!"

"I just need you to teach me," pleaded Lena, still swaying. "Please, sir, you have to teach me." She attempted to take a step towards him, but started to keel over.

Remus' hands shot out to steady her, grabbing Lena around the waist. However, his left hand went lower than he'd intended, accidently pushing her jumper and shirt up and exposing the bare skin of her right hip. And upon seeing the skin, Remus' eyes widened.

Black veins were running up from her hipbone, disappearing under her jumper.

"Shit," he murmured, momentarily forgetting his position. "Lena, what the hell happened?"

Lena was clinging to his shoulders, looking up at him through fluttering eyelids. "Please," she whispered. "Please, I have to learn."

But Remus shook his head. "No, you have to go to the hospital wing."

Lena tried to push herself away from him, but began to fall backwards. Remus slipped his arms around her middle in an effort to keep her upright. Her body was starting to go limp.

He had to take her to the hospital wing. But how? She was almost unconscious, and he was still too weak from his transformation to carry her there. Maybe he could Conjure a stretcher...

Remus slowly lowered Lena to the ground. She was trying to say something, but her words were slurred and unintelligible.

Had she been poisoned? Cursed? Going by those black veins, Dark magic had to be involved. There was no time to dwell on the matter, he had to get her to Madam Pomfrey as quickly as possible. Lying Lena on the floor, he turned around to go back into his bedroom and grab his wand.

He was distracted, however, by the sound of the classroom door slamming open. Sticking his head out of the office, he was stunned to see Dumbledore striding towards him. Stunned, but relieved.

"Headmaster," Remus called out to him, "thank Merlin you're here. It's Lena, I think she's been–"

"She's in your office?" Dumbledore's response was surprisingly curt.

Remus nodded. "Yes." He glanced over at the girl. She was still semi-conscious, and attempting to push herself off the floor and stand up. "But something's happened to her, Albus."

Dumbledore ascent of the stairs was swift, and he didn't seem at all surprised by Lena's condition as he entered Remus' office. He knelt beside the girl, and murmured something to her that Remus didn't catch.

"I was just about to take her to the hospital wing before you arrived," explained Remus, gazing at Lena anxiously.

"There's no need."

Remus looked at Dumbledore, confused. "But Headmaster, she–"

"I will handle the situation from here," said Dumbledore firmly. He held his forearm out to Lena, who had just managed to kneel. She grasped the proffered arm, and Dumbledore pulled her to her feet. But she was still unsteady, and her eyes were unfocused.

Clearly, she was seriously ill.

"I really think Madam Pomfrey should examine–" he started to tell Dumbledore, but was promptly cut off.

"I said I will take care of this, Remus." There was a stern authority in Dumbledore's voice and expression that Remus had not seen since the War.

Dumbledore placed one of Lena's arms around his shoulders, and took a firm hold of her waist. They started to make their way out of the office.

"Please, Albus," said Remus desperately, "what's wrong with her?"

At the top of the stairs, Dumbledore paused and looked back at Remus. "I am sure Lena appreciates your concern, Remus. But right now, you are unwell yourself. I suggest you go back to bed," he looked pointedly at Remus' pyjamas, "and get some more rest, so you feel up to taking classes on Monday." He turned his attention back to Lena, who was blankly staring at the ground. "Can you manage these steps?" he murmured to her. Lena slowly nodded, and she and the headmaster began to descend the staircase.

Clenching his fists, Remus watched the pair exit the classroom, feeling deeply uneasy. Dumbledore had evidently been expecting to find Lena ill. What did he know that Remus didn't?

For half-an-hour, Remus lay on his bed, half-heartedly attempting to go back to sleep. He was exhausted, but every time he shut his eyes, all he could see was the delirious Lena. It was those black veins in particular that were troubling him. He'd never seen anything like them before.

'I have to know,' he thought, sitting up. 'I have to find out what's wrong.' Obviously, Dumbledore had no intention of telling him anything, so he'd have to figure it out himself. And that meant researching.

Ten minutes later, he was dressed and on his way to the library. Hopefully, some books would be there that could help him.

Entering the library, it occurred to Remus that he wasn't exactly sure of what section to browse. Something on Dark curses? Poisons? Magical maladies?

"Are you in need of assistance?"

Remus jumped a little. He hadn't noticed that Madam Pince was sitting at her desk, a little to his left.

"Er, thank you, yes," he said, moving closer to her. "You see, I'm looking for–" he paused, wondering how to explain it. He felt a little nervous under Madam Pince's suspicious gaze, remembering far too many occasions as a student where James or Sirius had done something stupid and got them all banned from the library for a week. He was quite sure she remembered all those times just as clearly.

Eventually, Remus came up with a believable and innocent enough story. "There was something I came across in a book I was reading," he lied. "It mentioned a case of illness that had afflicted a witch, and one of the symptoms were these black veins appearing on her torso. But it didn't go into much detail, so I was hoping..." he trailed off. When he had said 'black veins', Madam Pince had blanched. "Is something wrong?" he asked tentatively.

Madam Pince looked incredibly tense. "Did only the veins turn black," she asked tightly, "or were other body parts affected?"

Remus furrowed his brow. "Such as?"

"The inside of the mouth and the whites of the eyes."

"No," said Remus, "just the veins around," he gestured to his stomach and hips, "here. Why do you ask?"

Madam Pince stared at him for a few seconds, before glancing around cautiously. Apparently satisfied there were no students within hearing range, she leaned closer to Remus, who subconsciously copied her movement.

"Professor Lupin," she said quietly, "have any of the staff mentioned a girl named Lenora Travers to you?"

When Lena woke up in Dumbledore's office, she was lying on a sofa she didn't recall occupying it before. She looked around the office, confused and struggling to remember how she'd gotten there. The last thing she clearly recalled was sitting in the stands watching the Quidditch game.

'Then there were Dementors,' she remembered. Yes, at least a hundred Dementors had shown up and she'd left the pitch as quickly as she could. She had vague memories of returning to the castle and going to...

Lena cringed as flashes of her conversation – if one could call it that – with Lupin emerged in her mind. How the hell was she supposed to explain what happened the next time she saw him?

Then Dumbledore had thankfully shown up and whisked her away. It must have been at some point while they were heading to his office that Lena had finally slipped into a totally unconscious state.

Wondering how long she'd been out, Lena checked her watch. It was a quarter-to-midnight, so it had been over ten hours since she'd been at the Quidditch pitch. Ten hours since...

In a sudden movement, Lena pulled her jumper and shirt up, and looked at her stomach and hips. For the first since she'd woken up, she felt sick again.

The black veins, which only this morning had reached to just above her navel, now spread down to her hipbone. Urgently, she pulled down the collar of her jumper. It was difficult to see without a mirror, but it looked like the veins now also reached up to her collarbone. A violent shudder ran through Lena's whole body as she understood the implications of this.

"Lena."

Dumbledore had entered through a door at the back of his office, which Lena suspected led to his private rooms. He looked simultaneously relieved and concerned upon seeing her awake.

"It's grown," said Lena hollowly.

Dumbledore took a seat on the sofa next to the hunched over Lena. "I know," he said quietly. "I apologise for the intrusion, but I checked after bringing you up here."

Lena buried her face in her hands. "How long?"

Her voice was muffled, but Dumbledore understood. "We would need another blood test to confirm it," he said, "but I suspect you lost an entire year, maybe two, today. "

Lena looked back up at the headmaster, dejected. "I tried to stop it, I really did," she told him.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, and I expect that is, in part, what made you so ill."

"What was the other part?"

"That your body used magic after going without it for so long," explained Dumbledore. "It has been, what, six weeks?"

"Seven," replied Lena immediately. "Seven weeks and one day." She subconsciously traced her collarbone with a finger. "Is it also because the poison is now spreading far enough through my body that it's starting have a more physical and... volatile... effect?"

"I suppose that is quite likely too," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. He peered through his spectacles at her, as though he was inspecting her. "How are you feeling now?"

Lena shrugged. "Physically? Well, I'm not delirious anymore, and I'm not feeling any actual pain throughout my body, so I guess I'm fine."

Dumbledore didn't bother to clarify how she was emotionally. After all, he didn't need to be explicitly told that losing another year of her life was making her feel like shit. As one of the smartest wizards in the world, he could probably figure that out himself.

Lena felt extremely anxious as she made her way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom the next afternoon. She had been nervous about resuming Patronus lessons in any case, but after her encounter with the Defence professor the previous day, that had been heightened to an alarming degree.

She was hoping to brush off the incident, but deep down she knew that hope was in vain. One thing she had learnt about Lupin was that he could be incredibly persistent about finding out the truth. Also, he seemed to be a quite naturally curious person.

Which were both qualities that Lena would usually admire. But it was a little difficult to appreciate them when they were being directed towards her.

'On the other hand,' thought Lena, 'he is pretty understanding. So it's possible that if I just tell him it's a very personal matter, he might respect that and back off.'

Yes, that was her best bet, she decided. Besides, when she told him what Snape had been teaching his Third Year classes on Friday, that might completely draw his attention away from her health.

Reaching the classroom, she took a deep breath, preparing herself before pushing open the door. But when she entered, she was surprised to see that Lupin wasn't waiting for her. She checked her watch; she was right on time.

'We haven't met at this time before,' reasoned Lena. 'Maybe he forgot the specific time.'

Deciding to check if he was in his office, she quickly crossed the classroom, climbed up to the door, and knocked lightly on it. There was no response.

"Professor Lupin?" she called out, but was met by only silence.

She tried the door handle, and was surprised to find it was unlocked. Tentatively, she opened the door.

She was greeted by the sight of Lupin slumped over his desk, sleeping. Books and sheets of parchment were strewn around him.

Lena frowned. From what she'd seen of his office before, Lupin wasn't the neatest of people, but this seemed unusually messy, even for him. It looked like he had fallen asleep in the midst of some fairly intense researching.

Her curiosity aroused, Lena came a little further into his office, but Lupin still didn't stir. Approaching his desk as quietly as she could, Lena noted, surprised, that the books surrounding Lupin were all about the Dark Arts – which shouldn't have been shocking, considering what he taught, but these particular books were covering the Darkest of subjects. There was certainly nothing or at least very little in them concerning the Hogwarts curriculum.

Reaching his desk, Lena noticed that Lupin's head was resting on an open book, completely covering one page. But the opposite page was clearly visible.

Lena froze. There was one illustration on the visible page. A black sphere.

It was entitled 'Hecate's Orb'.

As Remus' eyes fluttered open, he became aware that his cheek was pressed against something that was decidedly not a pillow. It was much harder. He also became aware that he was not lying down, but rather sitting and bent over something.

He blinked a few times, trying to gage his surroundings.

'My office,' he thought. 'I must have fallen asleep at my desk.'

As he slowly began to sit up, his back, protesting at the undesirable position it had been forced into as he slept, made a loud crack. Remus winced.

"You know, if we keep going at this rate, there aren't going to be any secrets left between us."

The voice of someone else in his office made Remus sit up a lot faster.

It was Lena. She was standing in the corner of the office, watching the Grindylow in its tank.

Remus stared at her, his brain trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. Finally, the memories of the previous day clicked into place. He looked down at his desk. His head had been resting on an open book. It was the one, Remus remembered, that had what he thought might be the answer.

Then he finally registered what Lena had said. He swallowed. "Do you mean... do you mean that this is... right?"

At last, Lena turned away from the tank and looked at him. Her lips were drawn into a tight line, and despite the levity of her tone just moments ago, Remus knew that if he didn't approach this subject carefully, he was in trouble.

"Yes," said Lena quietly, "the root of my... illness... is Hecate's Orb."

Remus stood up and slowly approached her. He stopped a few feet away from Lena and crossed him arms. "And Lenora Travers?" he inquired. "That was the Orb too?"

Lena smiled mirthlessly. "Ah, so that's what put you on the right track." She tilted her head slightly, looking at him appraisingly. "I'm impressed. Even Dumbledore didn't figure it out himself."

Remus frowned. "So how did he find out?"

"Because I told him."

"Why?"

Lena started to twirl a lock of hair around her index finger. "Let's just say there was an exchange of information."

Remus continued to stare at Lena, unsure of how to proceed.

Madam Pince's story of Lenora Travers had come as quite a shock to Remus – especially the fact that many people, including staff members, suspected that Lena was the culprit. But the part that was of particular interest to him were the black veins found on Travers. Apparently, the official story was that Travers had accidently poisoned herself after trying to create her own version of Liquid Luck – but Remus was certain that wasn't what Lena had done, and surely both afflictions had to be related.

Remus hadn't known of any curse or poison that caused such a condition. But Lena, he had come to realise, was exceptionally knowledgeable of the Dark Arts –more so than the majority of the staff. So the most likely scenario, Remus had thought, was that Lena had attacked with Travers with some kind of Dark magic, perhaps originating from a Dark object. However, it must have partially backfired on her, and now the same thing that had happened to Travers was happening to Lena – but at a much slower rate.

Bearing that all in mind, Remus had thanked Madam Pince for telling him the story and had gone straight to the Restricted Section, looking for books on only the most powerful, Darkest magic. He had found half-a-dozen or so that looked like they could potentially be of use, and brought them back to his office. Then he had started reading them all, cover to cover. Although he had still been exhausted from his transformation, he had read all through the night and into the early hours of the morning. He had been barely able to keep his eyes open by the time he was on the last book.

And there it had been. Two pages on the ancient Greek sorceress Hecate. Remus, as a keen student of Defence Against the Dark Arts, had come across her before in his readings, but as far as he knew, there wasn't that much concrete information available on her. He had heard of the Orb before, on a list of the most powerful legendary magical artefacts –he hadn't known, however, that it was definitely a real thing.

The book said that Hecate had used the Orb, among other purposes, to kill her enemies. And her victims' bodies were found covered in black veins.

It was almost unbelievable that Lena could have got her hands on an artefact of such immense power.

Almost.

Remus finally settled on a question to ask her. "Was it an accident?"

Lena shrugged, continuing to play with her hair. "Attacking Travers? Well, I suppose you could say I wasn't entirely in my right mind."

"So you didn't mean to do it?"

"That's not what I said."

Remus rubbed his temples tiredly. This was all quite overwhelming. He could feel that Lena was watching him closely, trying to gage what he was thinking.

He sighed, and asked, "Can you fix her?"

"No."

"Because you don't know how?"

"Because I don't have the means to."

Remus' forehead creased in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Lena finally let go of her hair, and folded her arms. "In order to undo it, I would need the Orb. But it's no longer in my possession. I didn't even have it when I attacked Travers."

This only further perplexed Remus. "But then how–"

"Why don't I just tell you the whole story?" interrupted Lena. "From beginning to end. It's the only way to properly understand." She walked over to the chair in front of his desk.

Remus cocked his head. "Why?"

Lena arched an eyebrow. "Why what?" she asked, sitting down.

"Why tell me anything?" said Remus, spreading his hands. "Why even confirm my theory? You said you told Dumbledore as an 'exchange of information'. But what do you want from me?"

For a few moments, Lena simply stared at him. Once again, she began twisting her hair around a finger. Remus got the sense she did it whenever giving something careful consideration. Then she bit her lip and, at last, spoke.

"I'm telling you," she said quietly, "because you cared enough to look for answers."

Neither said anything for about ten seconds. Then Remus reclaimed his seat behind the desk.

"All right," he said, "so how exactly does this story begin?"

Lena found it surprisingly easy to tell her story to Lupin. He was a good listener; attentive, but not intrusive. Obvious reactions were minimal, but when Lena finally explained that she was incurably ill, and had fewer than ten years to live, horror was evident in his eyes.

"So what happened yesterday – that's going to become a more frequent occurrence?" he asked.

"Possibly," replied Lena. "Well, certainly if I get close to that many Dementors again." She looked at Lupin earnestly. "Do you now understand why it's so important for me to learn the Patronus Charm?"

Lupin nodded slowly. "It will stop the Orb's magic from taking it upon itself to protect you, which is necessary because–"

"–Because what the Orb's magic thinks is protecting me is actually killing me," finished Lena. "And also," she added as an afterthought, "it's the only spell I'm actually allowed to cast, and it really sucks that it's the one I can't do."

"Now I understand why the difficulty you were having with it upset you so much," commented Lupin.

Lena fidgeted uncomfortably. "Erm, actually, you were more right that night, when you thought it was because I'd just never not being able to do a spell before." She shrugged, blushing slightly. "It was a new experience for me and, well... I didn't like it."

Lupin's face twitched, and he covered his mouth. "I see," he said, his voice a little muffled.

Lena narrowed her eyes at him. It looked awfully like he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

"Are you laughing at me?" she asked suspiciously.

Lupin started to shake his head, but an amused noise escaped him. Giving up, he took his hand off his mouth. He was grinning. "Sorry," he apologised, without sounding like he really meant it. "But if that's really what sets you off, more than anything else..." He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. "Well, it's actually quite endearing."

Mortified, Lena stared down at her lap. He thought her throwing a tantrum about her incompetence was endearing?

But when she looked back up at Lupin, the smile had slipped off his face, replaced by a far graver expression.

"You say the healers at the IHO are searching for a way to cure you," he said softly, "but the way you're acting suggests you don't think they'll find one."

"What," asked Lena sceptically, "you think I should live in hope?"

Lupin leaned forward. "You don't?"

"I think that would be unwise."

"But the wizards and witches at the IHO are some of the finest minds–"

"I know," interrupted Lena. She sighed and drew her feet up to the edge of the seat and hugged her knees. "But believing that they could miraculously find a way to fix me in the next eight, nine years..." She shrugged helplessly. "That requires a hell of a lot of faith."

"So what, you don't allow yourself even a glimmer of hope?" asked Lupin. He sounded almost frustrated with her."Look, Lena, I never dreamed as a child that someday, someone would invent a way to prevent me from turning into a complete monster every full moon. But now I can take Wolfsbane, and when I transform, I don't have the slightest urge to attack anyone. It might not be a complete cure for lycanthropy, but it's certainly progress."

"But that's completely different," argued Lena. "Lycanthropy is an extremely well-documented condition because so many people have been affected over so many years. What's happening to me is totally uncharted."

"Then you're convinced you're going to die?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Lena, standing up. "Yes, I'm dying!"

"You told me that Dumbledore said reclaiming the Orb could save your life," Lupin pointed out.

"That's not happening," said Lena firmly.

Lupin looked incredulous. "You'd rather die than have the Orb again?"

"Of course I wouldn't," snapped Lena. "Do you have any idea of what I could accomplish if I had the Orb again? Hell, I'd want it back even if I wasn't dying, and I know that when I can count the days I have left on one hand, I will be begging for it. But I also know that if I ever get my hands on it again, then I will lose every ounce of humanity that I have struggled so hard to gain these last six years!" Her hands, which had been gesticulating wildly, were starting to shake. "You think you're a monster during the full moon? Believe me, that's nothing compared to what I'd become!"

Lupin began to rise from his chair. "Lena–"

"Would I rather die? No! I am terrified of dying!" She clenched her fists to stop them trembling, and took a deep breath. "But with at least some distance between now and when I die – however short that may be – I am far more afraid of who I'd be with the Orb." She closed her eyes, willing her whole body to stop shaking.

To her surprise, she felt a hand being lightly placed on her shoulder. She opened her eyes. Lupin was standing right in front of her, looking down at her concernedly. But he didn't say anything; he seemed to be waiting for Lena to calm herself down.

After about ten seconds, Lena felt sufficiently composed. "Thank you," she muttered.

Lupin inclined his head, removing his hand. Then he asked, "Apart from myself, Dumbledore and the IHO healers, who else knows of your... affliction?"

"No one."

That surprised Lupin. "Not even your aunt? You haven't told her?"

Lena snorted. "Why, so she can say, 'I told you to leave it alone'? No thanks."

Lupin looked like he wanted to respond that, but instead pursed his lips. After a pause, he asked, "And none of your friends either?"

'What friends?' Lena almost replied aloud, but stopped herself just in time, and shook her head instead.

"And none of the teachers have realised you haven't used magic in nearly two months?" inquired Lupin, sounding slightly incredulous.

"Incredible, isn't it," replied Lena drily. "Seven weeks in a magic school, and nobody's noticed that I'm pretty much a Squib now." She looked pointedly at Lupin. "Not even you."

"In my defence, most of the time I've spent with you, you've been working on the one spell you actually can do."

"You mean allowed to do," corrected Lena. "Not can. Which reminds me – you're supposed to be giving me a Patronus lesson now."

Lupin blinked, and Lena could tell that he had completely forgotten why she'd actually visited him today.

"Of course," he said. "Well, shall we?"

They went into the classroom, and sat on two of the student desks in the front row.

Lupin gazed at Lena thoughtfully. "I have an idea," he said.

"I'm all ears."

"What if," he began, "instead of thinking in terms of happy or not, we think about your memories as positive or negative. For instance, let's say anything to do with the Orb is a negative, because it brought out a... less than good version of yourself. Can you think of a moment where the opposite happened, where you had to be the best version?"

Lena considered this. "Just a moment?"

"It only has to be a few seconds, not a whole event."

The best version of herself. Lena bit her lip as a memory flashed in her mind.

Riddle stared at her, clearly perturbed. "You're not who I thought you were." He sounded disappointed and disgusted.

Lena smiled at Riddle. "No. I'm better."

Then with every ounce of strength she could muster, she threw the rock at the Basilisk's head.

"Yeah," Lena told Lupin. "I might have something."

Lupin gave her a small smile, and gestured for her to stand up. "Well, you know the words."

Standing up, Lena pulled her wand out of her pocket. She looked down at it, tracing her finger along the length. 'I know you're struggling to see it,' she told it silently, 'but amidst all that Dark magic, I am still there.'

Then she firmly pointed it in front of her. Closing her eyes, she imagined she was right back in that moment in the Chamber of Secrets, making her decision.

She opened her eyes. "Expecto Patronum!" she cried.

A small silvery light streamed out of her wand and hung in the air for a few seconds before evaporating. Wide-eyed, Lena turned back to look at the Defence teacher. He was smiling.

"Well, would you look at that," remarked Lupin softly. "You're making progress."