Friday 11 March, 1994:

The sun was yet to rise, so the waiting room in the Blood Maladies section of the International Health Organisation Headquarters in Stockholm was empty, with the exception of Lena and Dumbledore, and the young wizard at the reception desk. There was something almost eerie about the room, with its spotless white walls, floor and ceiling – not to mention the constant ticking of the clock on the wall, and the endless tapping of the receptionist on his typewriter.

Lena was grateful that Dumbledore was not in a chatty mood this morning. He was sitting next to Lena, his gnarled hands neatly folded in his lap and his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought – leaving Lena alone to dwell upon her unexpected good fortune.

When she had used her magic two weeks ago, it had never occurred to Lena that the IHO would find a way to help her in time. She had thought it would take years for them to find any sort of treatment or cure – if ever at all. She had been so firmly convinced that she would die. She had been so sure that she'd nearly kissed Remus the previous evening, believing that it might be her last chance to kiss anybody – and in particular, him.

"Lena Lestrange?"

A witch had appeared in the waiting room's entrance, looking inquiringly at Lena. She had dark hair and eyes, and appeared to be in her early forties. She was wearing the white robe that signified she was one of the healers who worked for the IHO.

Lena quickly stood up, and then immediately fell back into her seat as her knees buckled. She hadn't been out of her bed much over the past week, and the journey to Sweden had taken a lot out of her, even if it had been by Thestral.

The witch hurriedly came over to her. "Please, there's no need to get up just yet."

Dumbledore, however, stood and extended a hand. "Healer Ghali," he addressed the witch, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Healer Ghali took the hand and firmly shook it. "Likewise, Professor Dumbledore." She turned back to Lena. "And I'm delighted to meet you at last too, Miss Lestrange. My name is Kamilah Ghali, and I've been in charge of the group tasked with finding a cure for you these last six months."

Lena gave her a small smile. "I'm very grateful for everything you've been doing."

"Well, it's certainly been one of, if not the most interesting project I've ever undertaken," admitted Healer Ghali. "In fact, this sort of work is the reason I became a healer." She grimaced. "Sorry, that was tactless – I didn't mean to make it sound like I'm happy about your affliction."

Lena made a dismissive gesture. "It's fine," she assured her, "I get it."

Healer Ghali eyed Lena oddly. "Yes," she muttered, "I'm sure you do." Before Lena could ask what she meant, the Healer had proffered her arm to her. "Well, we might head to my lab now so I can take you through what the treatment entails."

Gripping Healer Ghali's forearm, Lena hoisted herself up. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Shall I come with you," asked Dumbledore, "or would you rather I stayed here?"

"Thank you for the offer, sir," said Lena politely, "but I think I'll be fine."

Dumbledore nodded and sat down. "I'll be waiting here."

Using Healer Ghali for support, Lena hobbled out of the waiting room, and down the corridor that led to the lab.

"What did you mean before?" Lena asked her. "When you said, 'I'm sure you do'?"

Healer Ghali gave her a sidelong glance. "Professor Dumbledore may have left out some details of how you came into contact with Hecate's Orb," she said after a pause, "but he told us enough for it to be clear you've been very interested in the nature of magic since a young age. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"So it makes sense," Healer Ghali went on, "that you would understand my excitement to study your illness, despite the serious risk it poses to you."

Lena quirked an eyebrow. "How could I blame you for being interested in something rare and dangerous?"

"Exactly."

The corner of Lena's lips turned up. She suspected that Healer Ghali and herself could become quite good friends, if given the opportunity.

Finally, they arrived at the lab. Lena looked around the room, fascinated. Unlike the waiting room, the floor was dark blue, sparsely adorned with scratch marks, burns and stains. The walls and ceiling were a paler blue, which Lena found much less unsettling than the excessively sanitary white of the waiting room. There was a large table in the centre of the lab, covered in vials, miniature cauldrons, charts and other curious objects that even Lena couldn't identify. There was also a desk in the corner, and several normal-sized cauldrons sitting upon unlit fires.

Healer Ghali helped Lena over to a stool that was next to the table, and then took a seat herself.

"Right," she began, "the first thing I need to say, and make as clear as possible, is that what my team and I have come up with is not a cure. It will not remove the poison in your blood from your body. What we believe we do have, however, is a treatment – one that should not only eliminate the fatality of your illness, but also allow you to use your magic as freely as you once did."

Lena's heart began to race. The message they had sent Dumbledore yesterday had not clarified whether the treatment would allow her to use magic again, an uncertainty that had been weighing heavily on Lena's mind the last twelve hours.

Carefully pulling over one of the miniature cauldrons so it was between them, Healer Ghali continued, "This is the treatment: a potion we have created called Moramortis. It needs to be taken daily."

Leaning over the cauldron, Lena saw the potion was a bright red substance, slightly paler than the colour of blood. It was also thin as water.

"So I drink this every morning?" inquired Lena.

Healer Ghali shook her head. "No, the Moramortis needs to be directly injected into your bloodstream." She picked up a small, cylindrical object. "This is called a syringe, and it's what you'll use to give yourself the correct dosage every day."

Lena looked at the syringe curiously. "How does it work?"

Healer Ghali pushed one end of it, and a needle shot out the other, making Lena flinch.

"You push the needle directly into a vein," explained Healer Ghali, "and that'll inject the Moramortis into the bloodstream."

"I've never seen one before," said Lena. "Is it a Wizarding invention?"

"No," answered Healer Ghali, "it's of Muggle origins, and is quite commonly used in their medical practices. We've adopted the method before, but only in rare instances. Now, I'll give you the injection today, but you'll need to learn how to do it yourself."

Lena nodded, her mind whirling as she stared at the Moramortis. Her salvation.

"Is something the matter?" asked Healer Ghali concernedly.

"No," said Lena hastily, then bit her lip. "It's just... well, I honestly didn't expect your team to ever come up with anything."

"Really?" said Healer Ghali, seeming surprised. "The IHO only employs the greatest healers in the Wizarding World."

"I know," said Lena, feeling embarrassed. "I'm just not accustomed to the idea of other people solving your problems for you. I was always raised to believe that if you got yourself into a mess, you had to get yourself out of it."

"That sounds like a rather solitary and difficult way to live," remarked Healer Ghali.

Lena snorted. "Yeah, you could say that." She cleared her throat. "So, how exactly does this Moramortis work? How does it counter the Orb's magic?"

"Nekrosía."

"Pardon?" said Lena, confused.

"Nekrosía," repeated Healer Ghali. "That's the technical name for the magic Hecate's Orb contains, and which is in your body."

"I didn't realise there was a name for it."

"That's not surprising," replied Healer Ghali. "It's such a rare form of magic now that most people never come across the term. In fact, the majority of people are completely unaware of the existence of Nekrosía. It's really only familiar to the foremost experts in the history of the Dark Arts, and those in the Healing profession like myself who specialise in ailments caused by rare Dark magic."

Lena took a moment to process this. "So Nekrosía," she said slowly, "is a form of magic which is created by taking souls, and converting them into raw energy?"

Healer Ghali nodded. "That's perhaps the simplest explanation for how it works. There are several legends of wizards and witches in ancient times using Nekrosía to attain great power, but it's practically unheard of today – as I'm sure you now understand very well," she added pointedly.

Lena looked down at her vein-covered hands. She wondered just how many wizards and witches had lost their lives before the danger of messing with Nekrosía had finally sunk in.

"Okay," said Lena. "How does the Moramortis stop the Nekrosía from killing me?"

"It neutralises it," answered Healer Ghali. "While the Nekrosía will remain in your blood, your own magic will once again have dominance, and the Nekrosía will be inactive, no longer poisoning your body. As long as you don't deliberately call upon it, the Nekrosía can't hurt you."

"And the veins–"

"Should rescind. Ideally, it will once again just be the mark on your chest."

It all seemed too good to be true. A daily injection, and everything would be back to normal.

"Are there any side-effects?" asked Lena, reluctant to believe her good fortune.

"Just the one," said Healer Ghali, her expression becoming very serious.

Lena's throat constricted. Of course there was a 'but' to all of this. What new problem was about to cause havoc in her life?

"There are certain ingredients in the Moramortis," continued Healer Ghali, "that will cause infertility."

There was a brief, odd sort of twinge in Lena's stomach. "Oh."

"We're happy to continue researching for a way to negate that, but–"

"It's fine," said Lena quickly. "It's not really a huge price to pay to live." She hesitated. "Erm, will I still get my period?"

Healer Ghali shook her head. "I don't think so."

Lena gave her a cheery smile. "Well, there's an upside if I ever heard one. All right, how do we do these injections?"

Despite seeming slightly surprised by Lena's quick brush-off of her inevitable inability to have children, Healer Ghali immediately adopted her business-like tone again. "Right, roll up your left sleeve."

She proceeded to demonstrate to Lena the way to inject herself with the Moramortis. Lena winced as the needle pierced through her skin, but kept her eyes on the syringe as Healer Ghali pushed the potion into her blood.

After she'd pulled the needle out, Healer Ghali said, "Now, Lena, I'm going to need you stay here for the next week, just so I can keep you under observation, and ensure the Moramortis is working as it's supposed to. And over the week, I'll show you how to make it, as you'll need to brew a new lot every twelve weeks. How does that sound?"

Lena could have been imagining it, but it felt like the Moramortis was already beginning to do its job. "That sounds great," she replied. And she meant it.

Tuesday 15 March, 1994:

"Remember, one thousand words on what you believe is the most effective Defensive spell against an Explosive Curse, due by the beginning of our lesson on Friday morning," Remus called out, as the Seventh Year Ravenclaw and Slytherin class started to pack up.

Terence Higgs raised a hand. "Does the ten percent rule apply to this, sir?"

"Five percent," said Remus. "So no less than 950 words, no more than 1050. Most of you need to work on either being more concise, or fleshing out your arguments, so consider this a good opportunity to practise that. Good afternoon, everyone."

As the rest of the class began to file out, Remus' eyes were drawn to Maggie Skelton, who was taking a little longer to pack up. It was her first day back in class, and although she had mostly healed from the Blood Boiling Curse, all her movements were clearly slower than usual. Gemma Farley stood by Skelton's desk, waiting for her.

Remus walked up to them. "Maggie, do you mind staying behind for a couple of minutes?" he asked her.

"Sure," she said, looking a little surprised.

"I'll wait for you outside," Farley told her. Skelton nodded, and Farley left, leaving Remus alone with the still-recovering girl.

He took a seat on the desk to the side of the one at which Skelton had been sitting. "I just wanted to check how your day's been going," he said.

Skelton leant against her desk. "Well, it's certainly taking a lot longer to get to all my classes than usual," she said wryly.

"And what about schoolwork?" inquired Remus. "I know missing two weeks in Seventh Year probably feels more like missing two months."

Skelton half-smiled. "Yeah, that's a pretty accurate description. Well, Gemma and Fakhir have offered to help me catch up on work for this class, and I've got a friend who'll help me with my other four subjects."

"Rolf Scamander?"

Skelton raised her eyebrows. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

Remus shrugged slightly. "I just know he's had a pretty rough couple of weeks, with both you and Lena–" He stopped abruptly, as Skelton quickly looked away – but not fast enough for the flicker of pain that crossed her face to escape his notice.

During Remus' lesson with the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Seventh Years the day after Lena had left Hogwarts, he had noticed how out of it Rolf was, and so had asked him to stay behind. When it had just been the two of them in the classroom, Rolf had completely broken down. Remus had done his best to comfort him, but at the time he himself had been so miserable that he didn't think he'd really done much to help Rolf. Remus wouldn't be surprised if some of his students had noticed his own distracted and depressed state over the past couple of weeks. The staff certainly had, although he wasn't sure how many of them had realised why. He suspected Minerva did, even if she didn't say so.

But all that had changed last Friday evening, when Dumbledore returned from Sweden and told him the good news: Lena was going to be all right. She was going to live, and she would be back at Hogwarts soon, most likely by the end of the week. Remus had managed to maintain some facade of composure while Dumbledore had been in his office, but the moment the headmaster left, had wept with joy.

Cautiously, Remus asked, "Has Rolf spoken to you at all, regarding Lena?"

Skelton nodded, still staring at the wall. "He told me everything when I got back yesterday afternoon," she said distantly.

"Including the news that she's going to be okay now?"

Finally, Skelton turned her eyes back to Remus. "He said you told him on Saturday morning."

"I did."

Skelton rubbed her eyes. As she moved her hand away from them, Remus could see there was a slight moistness in their corners.

"She was going to die," said Skelton, her voice cracking, "thinking I hated her."

Remus didn't know how to respond. As close as he was to Lena, there was so much more history between her and Skelton.

"Tiffany and Eve told me that Lena almost killed Selwyn and the others," continued Skelton quietly. "She sent everyone else to their dormitories, but they could hear the screams when–" She broke off, looking at Remus guiltily.

"It's fine, Maggie," he reassured her. "I'm aware that your attackers didn't confess without some... motivation from Lena."

Skelton nodded slowly. "She always protected me, Professor. Right from First Year. I... I used to have nightmares," she explained hesitantly. "When I first came here. Pretty much every night. About... stuff that happened. To me. In some of the foster homes I stayed in." She shuddered. "Anyway, I would cry in my sleep, whimper, call out, stuff like that. And back then, Lena and I shared our dorm with Bletchley and Warrington. And when Lena wasn't around, they would tease me about it – well, Warrington would, and Bletchley would just laugh at what she said. Called me a cry-baby, would ask stuff like if I was abandoned at birth by my mum, that sort of thing. And they told the other girls that I cried every night, and made up stuff, like that I wet the bed." She folded her arms tightly, hugging herself. "Not coming from a Wizarding family, I was already an outsider in Slytherin. But back then, they weren't just looking down on me because of my blood status."

Remus was appalled. Bullying was no rarity at Hogwarts, even in Gryffindor. But it was still awful to hear of such a vulnerable child being so cruelly tormented.

"Anyway," Skelton went on, "Lena caught on to what was happening after a month or so. One night, when I was in our bathroom and she didn't think I could hear, she told Warrington and Bletchley to knock it off, or else. Neither of them said they would, and the next morning, Lena said to me she felt our dormitory was too crowded, and she was going to make the other girls leave. I just told her I was cool with that. During the day, she caught a spider. Then in the evening, when we were all back in the dorm, she Engorged the spider until it was the size of a dog, and made it chase Warrington and Bletchley around the room. She told them that if they didn't move to a different dorm, the next evening it would be a snake, and she'd make it strangle them to death." She smiled. "They were gone by the next morning, and soon after that, no one else bothered me about being Muggle-born, or having nightmares. But I remember wondering back then if she'd meant it – if she would kill them if they didn't do what she said." She unfolded her arms and picked up her bag. "I guess I know now."

Remus stared at her. Ever since Lena had told him about trying to Master Hecate's Orb, he had tried to imagine the eleven-year-old child who would want to do such a dangerous thing. Skelton's story had just helped illustrate that picture.

"Yes," he said, after a pause, "I suppose we do."

Friday 18 March, 1994:

"Thanks, Umbrius," murmured Lena, stroking the Thestral's nose. She looked around the Hogwarts grounds contentedly, while the evening wind made her black overcoat billow around her.

"Welcome back," said Hagrid gruffly.

"Thank you," said Lena, giving him a bright smile, which seemed to disconcert him a little. She guessed he wasn't used to seeing her look so happy.

"Righ'," mumbled Hagrid. "I'll take Umbrius back ter the Forest, then, and yeh head in," he jerked his head towards the castle, "and get some dinner."

Lena thanked the gamekeeper once more, then made her way to the castle. Tizzy had already brought her trunk back and deposited it in her dormitory, so Lena was free to go straight to the kitchens to eat. If she hurried, she could probably catch the end of dinner in the Great Hall, but Lena was hoping to avoid a grand entrance if possible.

The Moramortis worked. The black veins had rescinded until all that remained was the galleon-sized mark over her heart, and the surrounding inch-long veins. She wasn't coughing up black liquid, she wasn't in any pain, and most important of all – she could use magic. As much as she wanted. Even her wand had recognised the change, no longer resisting her the way it had at the beginning of the year. So that morning, Healer Ghali had said she was free to leave the IHO Headquarters, and that providing nothing went wrong before then, she would see Lena again in one year's time for a check-up.

Yesterday, Lena had seen Valeriya for the first time since the last summer. Once she'd been fairly certain her death was no longer imminent, she had written to her great aunt to finally tell her what had been happening to her the past six months. She had been surprised by Valeriya's lack of 'I told you so'. Instead, Valeriya was more angry that Lena had kept her illness a secret from her for so long. On the whole, she had been more concerned than judgemental.

Lena's walk to the castle was illuminated by the bright full moon. That was the only thing dampening her mood – she couldn't visit Remus until tomorrow afternoon, when he'd had some time to recover from his transformation.

Reaching the entrance, she pushed the doors open and walked inside, struggling to contain a delighted grin. She had honestly thought she would never see the place again.

As it was dinner time, she had almost made it to the kitchens without running into anyone else, when she heard a voice coming from around the corner of the corridor she was walking down.

"Yeah, I reckon Flitwick will want us to revise the– Lena!" said Gemma, halting in her tracks as she came around the corner, followed by the two people she was talking to: Kahn, and Maggie. They all stared at her.

"Hi Gemma," said Lena nervously. "Kahn," she added, nodding at him. Then her eyes turned to Maggie, whose expression was unreadable. Lena searched for something to say, but nothing felt right. It didn't help that Gemma and Kahn were looking between her and Maggie with great interest.

At last, Maggie took a step towards her. "You're a moron," she said flatly.

"I know," responded Lena immediately.

For five seconds, there was another silence. Then at exactly the same time, the two girls walked up to each other and hugged.

"I'm glad you're not dead," said Maggie after they'd let each other go.

Lena smiled. "Yeah, I'm pretty pleased about it too."

"No, Tizzy, I've really had enough."

The house-elf's blue eyes gazed up at Lena beseechingly. "But Miss Lena has had so little to eat these last few weeks–"

"Exactly," said Lena. "And if I suddenly start eating twice as much as I have been, I'll make myself sick. So I promise you, Tizzy, that I have had enough to eat tonight."

"I, on the other hand," said Rolf, raising a hand, "would be quite happy to have another éclair, if they're on offer."

"So," said Maggie, as Tizzy hurried off to get Rolf his extra éclair, "what happens if you miss an injection one day?"

After Lena and Maggie's reconciliation, they had quickly gone to the Slytherin Dungeon to move Lena's stuff back into Maggie's dormitory. Then they had found Rolf. Mortimer had been in his pocket at the time, and upon seeing Lena, let out an excited squeak and flung himself off Rolf and onto Lena. Then they had all gone to the kitchens, where Lena had been warmly greeted by all the house-elves. While Lena was eating her dinner – a determined Mortimer clinging to her shoulder the entire time, unwilling to be detached from Lena for even the smallest second – she had explained everything to Maggie and Rolf, from her taking Hecate's Orb up to everything Healer Ghali had told her over the last week.

"Basically, I have a thirty-hour window between each injection," said Lena. "If I go without one for thirty hours, I'll get sick, and my organs will start shutting down. After sixty hours, Healer Ghali suspects I'll slip into a comatose state, and by one hundred, I'd probably be dead. And if I ever take more than the recommended dosage, it's likely I'll go into cardiac arrest."

"Wow," said Maggie quietly. "That's... intense."

"Thanks, Tizzy," said Rolf, as the house-elf presented him with his éclair, before looking back at Lena. "I just can't believe you have to stick a needle into your arm every day."

Lena shrugged. "Well, I've been doing it for a week now, and I'm already getting used to it. In any case, it's better than the alternative."

Rolf, who had been about to take a bite out of his éclair, immediately looked abashed. "Sorry," he muttered, putting the éclair back down. "I didn't mean to sound–"

"It's fine," Lena told him. "There's no need to walk on eggshells –nearly dying has changed my outlook on life, and definitely for the better." She smiled at her friends. "That's why I'm telling you guys everything now. Shutting myself off from you doesn't help anyone."

"Of course it would take you a near-death experience to realise that," said Rolf under his breath.

Lena arched an eyebrow. "What would you expect from someone who was literally taught the opposite her entire childhood? Mind you," she added, "turns out Valeriya's a big hypocrite. She got mad at me for not telling her I was sick, and when I asked why she was so angry, she told me she could have been trying to find a way to help me for the last six months. Can you believe it – the same woman who constantly told me to never expect or rely upon anyone for help."

Rolf snorted. "I guess it took your near-death experience for her to have the same epiphany," he remarked.

Maggie, meanwhile, was frowning. "What about your grandmother?"

Lena looked at her, confused. "What about her?"

"Did you write to her at all?" asked Maggie. "I mean, she lives on the continent right? It wouldn't have been difficult for her to visit you in Stockholm."

"I told you just before, after I attacked her with the Orb, she didn't want anything to do with me," said Lena flatly.

"You're her granddaughter," said Rolf. "Surely if she knew you'd almost died, she'd want to see you."

"You don't understand," said Lena quietly, staring down at her hands as they fidgeted on the table. "We didn't have that kind of relationship in the first place. We didn't... we didn't love each other."

"Oh," said Maggie. "That's why you always act so weird when you mention her."

Lena looked up at Maggie, her brow furrowed. "Weird?" As far as she could recall, she'd never behaved oddly on the rare occasions she had mentioned her grandmother to Maggie. "In what way?"

Maggie bit her lip. "It's just... well, maybe it won't sound that weird when I say it, but..." She hesitated.

"But what?"

"You used the same words," rushed Maggie. "The exact same phrase, twice. Once back in First Year, when you told me you'd been living abroad until that last summer. And the other time was during dinner on Christmas Eve, at Rolf's grandparents' house when we were in Fifth Year. The same words: 'When I moved back to England, my great aunt took custody of me. My grandmother remained abroad'."

"How'd you remember after four years the exact words Lena used?" asked Rolf.

"Because the way you said them was weird," Maggie explained to Lena. "You're usually so focused – even if it's not on what you're saying, there's something else you're concentrating on. I don't think I've ever seen your mind go blank. But back in First Year, when you said that to me, your eyes sort of glazed over, like you weren't thinking about anything, just saying the words. The exact same thing happened that Christmas Eve. You said the same thing, verbatim, and when you said it, it was like they weren't your words – it was as though you were reciting something from a script. Like it had been rehearsed."

Suddenly, a searing pain shot through Lena's head, making her gasp and clutch her forehead.

Aunt Valeriya was kneeling over Irina, who was lying still. "Irina?" she whispered her sister's name. Then she looked up, staring at Lena, wide-eyed and horrified.

Lena's eyes flew open, her heart pounding. What had she just seen? That memory had not been in her head before. The last thing she had always been able to remember about the day she had attacked Irina had been Valeriya running into the room, shouting at her.

"Lena?"

She looked across the table, where Rolf and Maggie sat, looking at her anxiously. The nearby house-elves were also watching her with concerned expressions.

"What's wrong?" asked Rolf, standing up. "Is it the Moratisius? Is it not working?"

"Moramortis," Lena automatically corrected him. "And no, it's fine. That was," she swallowed, "something else."

"Like what?" pressed Maggie.

Lena ran a hand through her hair, her head spinning. Was it possible...

"I think," she said at last, "that Valeriya tampered with my memories."

Lena stared at the front door of Valeriya's flat. Her aunt was supposed to be home. She had said as much when Lena had seen her yesterday. But for a glimmer of a second, Lena, afraid of what answers she might find, hoped that Valeriya had been unexpectedly called away.

The desire to know the truth, however, quickly overcame her fear of what it might be, and so Lena knocked on the door. A moment later, it was opened.

"Lena?" said Valeriya, shocked. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," said Lena, and pushed past her into the flat.

As soon as Lena had realised there was something wrong with her memory, she had left the kitchens – leaving behind a very reluctant Mortimer with Maggie and Rolf –and headed straight to the third-floor, which contained the statue that hid a secret passage into the Honeydukes' cellar. After she'd gone through the passage, she'd snuck out of the sweet shop and Apparated to Knockturn Alley. There was no way Lena could have delayed this visit until the next day, let alone until the end of the school year. Valeriya was hiding something from her – she had been for almost seven years. And Lena had to know what.

As soon as Valeriya shut the door, Lena spoke. "What happened on the eighteenth of June, 1987?" she demanded.

Valeriya stared at her. "You know what happened," she said slowly.

"That's the thing," replied Lena, balling her fists up. "I thought I knew what happened. I thought I remembered everything that happened up until I passed out very clearly. But it's just come to my attention that I don't. "

"Sometimes after a traumatic event, the mind–"

"I don't get traumatised," hissed Lena. "I have gone through so much shit, and done so many awful things, and I remember all of it. That's what happens when you train as an Occlumens from the age of four. You can compartmentalise things in your mind, push memories so far back so you don't constantly think about them. But you don't forget – not unless somebody tampers with your mind!"

Valeriya's face remained smooth, but for just a second, Lena saw panic flicker in her eyes.

"Don't get hysterical, Lena," said Valeriya evenly. "Now, you've been very ill–"

"This isn't about my illness," said Lena angrily. "This is about you removing memories from my brain seven years ago, and putting words in to say when I'm asked about Irina!" She took a deep breath. "So I'm going to ask you again: what happened on the eighteenth of June, 1987?"

Valeriya shook her head. "There's nothing else to know."

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" yelled Lena. "I KNOW THERE'S MORE, SO TELL ME!"

"Stop it," snapped Valeriya. "You're acting like a child!"

"You know," said Lena after a short pause, "that's exactly what Irina told me that day. She told me to stop acting like a little child."

Valeriya froze, caught off guard.

"What happened to Irina?" asked Lena quietly.

There was a pause, before Valeriya said, "I understand your curiosity, but I promise you, Lena, these aren't memories you want back."

"They're my memories!"

"And nothing good will come of them," cried Valeriya. Her calm demeanour had evaporated, aggravation taking its place. "Lena, I took those memories for a reason – I was trying to protect you!"

"Lying isn't protection," snarled Lena.

"It is when the truth is worse!"

The two women stared at each other, their chests heaving. Lena knew her aunt well enough to know that Valeriya truly believed what she was saying. But that just wasn't enough. Not for Lena.

"I'm sorry," said Lena, pulling out her wand, "but I have to know."

"No, Lena, don't–"

"Legilimens!"

Valeriya's hand had dived into her sleeve for her wand, but she wasn't quick enough. Lena's spell hit her squarely in the head. Valeriya's mental defences held for roughly two seconds, and then Lena forced her way through, and into her aunt's mind.

Valeriya burst into the living room to see Lena, who was holding Hecate's Orb in her hands, standing over Irina. Some sort of black matter was enveloping Irina.

"LENA, NO!" screamed Valeriya, but her great niece paid no attention, her eyes fixed on her convulsing grandmother.

Desperately, Valeriya tried to grab the Orb out of Lena's hands, but some kind of invisible barrier threw her back, and she slammed into the wall. Pulling her wand out of her sleeve, she pointed it at Lena, and shouted, "Stupefy!". But the spell simply ricocheted off the barrier, and narrowly missed hitting Valeriya in the head. Stumbling over to her sister, Valeriya reached a hand out to Irina, hoping to Apparate her to a different part of the house, but some of the black matter wrapped itself around her hand, making Valeriya cry out in pain. It felt like her hand was on fire.

She turned back to Lena, whose expression had not changed once. "Lena, you have to stop it," she begged her. "Please, stop! You're killing her!"

Finally, Lena's eyes finally shifted their gaze from Irina to Valeriya. But all she said was, "I know. I want to."

Then Irina's body gave one last spasm, before going completely still. The black matter that had been swirling around Irina flew back into the Orb, as did the small bit that had attached itself to Valeriya's hand, and at last, Valeriya could see and touch her sister. Kneeling, she leant over her. Irina's eyes were still open, but the whites and the irises were gone – everything was black. So was the inside of her mouth, which was still parted in a silent scream, and the veins that covered her body. Valeriya placed a hand over her sister's chest. There was no movement.

"Irina?" whispered Valeriya. But to hope for a response was pointless. Irina Lestrange was very clearly dead.

Valeriya looked up at Lena, horrified. Her niece was staring dispassionately at her dead grandmother, the Orb still in her hands.

Something wet began to slide down Valeriya's cheek. Her hand slid up her cheek, tracing the moisture's source up to her eyes. She was crying. It had been so long since she had last wept that she hadn't recognised the sensation. But now tears were falling, and Valeriya honestly didn't know whether they were for the dead sister whom she'd never loved as much as a sibling was supposed to, or for her great-niece, and the irreparable damage that had been done to her today.

And then Lena's gaze turned once again to Valeriya. She cocked her head slightly, as if confused by her aunt's tearstained face. Then she blinked several times, and looked down at the Orb in her hands, before looking up again, her eyes flicking between her grandmother's body and Valeriya.

"Lena?" said Valeriya hesitantly.

Slowly, Lena's expression morphed from confusion into horror. "Grandma?" she whispered. She looked at Valeriya, her breathing becoming shallow. "I... I killed her?"

She took a step back, letting go of the Orb. It hit the ground with a thud and began to roll towards Valeriya. But the moment it was out of Lena's hands, her body began to shudder. Her eyes rolled up and she collapsed. Valeriya quickly crawled over to her. She had already lost her sister today. She wasn't going to lose another member of her family to the Orb.

Lena opened her eyes and stumbled back, breathing heavily. Her grandmother had been dead for almost seven years. And Lena was the one who had murdered her. She looked over at Valeriya, who was staring at her with tear-filled eyes.

"How could you?" croaked Lena, doubled over with her hands on her knees. She felt like she might vomit. "How could you hide that from me?"

"I told you," whispered Valeriya. "I was trying to protect you."

"From what?" demanded Lena. "I murdered my own grandmother, Valeriya. From what did I deserve protection?"

"No," said Valeriya, vigorously shaking her head as she took a step closer to Lena. "You did not murder Irina, Lena. It was an accident."

"I made a choice!" cried Lena, her voice thick with emotion. "I took the Orb, and I knew how dangerous it was. I wasn't persuaded or influenced or manipulating into taking it – I made the decision myself. It's my fault that I killed her."

"No, no," argued Valeriya, coming up to Lena. She tried to take Lena's hands, but her niece resisted the attempt. "I should never have brought that thing home, I knew what you were like, and it was irresponsible of me–"

"Stop it!" Lena shouted at her. "First you made me think it never happened, and now you're trying to take the blame, and you can't, you can't take that from me too–"

"You were eleven!"

"STOP!" shrieked Lena as her knees gave way, and she sunk to the floor. "Stop acting like I was – I was – was some sort of victim of the Orb! I knew what I was doing! The whole time! Even when I–" Lena clawed at her chest as her throat constricted. "–I killed her!" she choked out.

Valeriya knelt down in front of her, grabbing her shoulders. "Please, Lena, calm down–"

"Calm – down?" replied Lena, between gasps for air. "I – just – found – out – I – fucking – murdered – my own – grandmother!" She gave Valeriya a shove, and her aunt toppled over backward, her rear hitting the floor with a thump. "What sort – of rational response – is being calm?"

"You've been sick," said Valeriya, sounding frustrated as she struggled back up onto her knees. "I don't want–"

"I know I've been sick," Lena spat at her. "I know that much better than you."

Valeriya's expression twisted into anger. "Because you kept it a secret from me for six months!"

"SIX MONTHS?" bellowed Lena. "OH, POOR YOU! IMAGINE WHAT SEVEN YEARS FEELS LIKE!"

"I WAS TRYING TO PRO–"

"IF YOU SAY 'PROTECT' ONE MORE TIME, I WILL BREAK YOUR BLOODY FACE!"

Valeriya narrowed her eyes. "Do not threaten me!" she hissed.

"Or what?" snapped Lena.

They glared at each other, Lena's breaths still laboured. After a long silence, Valeriya's face softened.

"I'm sorry for lying to you," she told Lena quietly, sitting down cross-legged. "I knew, deep down, that one day you would find out the truth, but I wanted to delay that day for as long as possible. I saw how horrified you were when you realised what you'd done, and I didn't want you to have to bear that guilt."

Lena buried her face in her hands. "Why?" she mumbled, before looking up again, her eyes full of pain. "Why couldn't you just be honest with me? You never sugar-coated anything else."

"Because I cared," said Valeriya softly. She sighed. "Lena, I never wanted to be a mother. I never had any interest in children. And then when you were six years old, you came into my life, and you were extraordinary. Your intelligence, your focus, your talent, your desire to learn everything – I never imagined it was possible for there to be a child like you. At first, I was intrigued by you. I thought you could be an apprentice, of sorts. But the more time I spent with you, the more I began to care about you; until one day, I realised you meant far more to me than an apprentice." She smiled sadly. "You became the daughter I never asked for, Lena. The unexpected pride, and love, of my life. And when you were so broken by what you did to Irina, the only thing I wanted to do was make you stop hurting. And the only way I could do that was make you forget."

Lena stared at her great aunt, stunned. She knew Valeriya had grown to care about her, but to that extent? Remus' words from the day before she'd left Hogwarts echoed around her head.

'Because that's what you do, isn't it? You keep a wall up between yourself and everyone else, and then the moment you open up to one of us, you suck us in.'

She'd been unable to think of any worthy response to that back then, and Valeriya's declaration was no different. So instead, Lena asked, "When did you alter my memories?"

"Right after the attack," said Valeriya. "I knew it was the only time your mind would be vulnerable enough for me to enter it. I couldn't remove the entire attack from your memory; that would damage your mind. So I edited it, cutting it off at a point where you had attacked Irina, but she was still alive. Then I put in a couple of sentences–"

"When I moved back to England, my great aunt took custody of me. My grandmother remained abroad," recited Lena.

Valeriya nodded. "A message ingrained into your brain, so that when I gave you an explanation of what happened, you wouldn't question it. You would accept that I was your sole guardian, and that Irina was at the family home in Switzerland, still alive. It was what you would instinctively say to anyone if they asked about your grandmother."

"What happened to Irina's body?"

"I didn't cover up her death, if that's what you're implying," said Valeriya, frowning. "She's buried in the Dolohov family cemetery, and her death's been officially recorded. That's how Dumbledore found out."

Lena went very still. "Dumbledore knows Irina is dead?"

Valeriya looked at her oddly. "Yes," she replied. "He wrote to me last summer, saying he spoke to you about the Orb, and noticed the Ministry records, contrary to what you had told him, listed Irina's death as the eighteenth of June, 1987. I explained to him that I had altered your memory to a degree." She tilted her head to the side. "Are you saying it wasn't Dumbledore who hinted to you that something was missing from your memory of the day?"

"No," said Lena flatly. "No, it wasn't." For a moment, she considered going straight back to Hogwarts and marching into Dumbledore's office, and screaming at him. Instead, she sighed and rubbed her face tiredly. "This is just too much," she muttered.

Valeriya moved to sit next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe you should stay here tonight," she suggested. "I don't think Apparating in your state is a good idea."

"And what state would that be?" asked Lena bitterly.

"I don't know," said Valeriya. "Shocked? Appalled? Sickened?"

"No, Valeriya, I'm tired," Lena told her. "I'm just so tired of myself. My life is just a series of wrong decisions, and people getting hurt because of them." Her voice trembled. "Just once, just once, I want to do something right."

Thank you for reading! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts - not just because they're interesting, but because it really helps me when I'm writing to know what people like/dislike, want more focus on, don't understand fully, etc.

Also, a question: as it hasn't yet been revealed what form Lena's corporeal Patronus takes, does anyone think they might have figured out what it will be? Do let me know :)