Once again, this chapter features some small bits in a language other than English, and because I've used google translate, I apologise if it's your language and I've butchered it. I really am in awe of all the readers of this story whose first language isn't English, you guys are incredible :)

Thursday 19 October, 1995:

"Valeriya came to see me last week."

Lena looked at Sârbu with an expression of mild interest, concealing the discomfort she felt at hearing her aunt's name. "Oh? In a professional capacity?"

They were in Sârbu's workshop, sitting on stools either side of his work-table. Although the various items on which he was working were different, the layout of the room hadn't changed at all since Lena had first been there nearly thirteen years ago to get her wand. They each had a mug in their hands, Sârbu's full of coffee and Lena's tea.

"Of course," replied Sârbu, smiling wryly. "It is, after all, a rare honour to receive a visit from Valeriya Dolohov that is merely personal." He took a sip of his coffee, then added, "She didn't ask if I'd seen you lately. In case you were wondering."

"Were you expecting her to?" said Lena evenly, taking a sip as well.

Sârbu gazed at her intently. "She's not part of this little network you've organised, is she?" he said softly.

"No, she's not."

Cocking his head, Sârbu asked, "Why? I'm aware that her brother is an incarcerated Death Eater, but I thought you were her only family member for whom she really has any affection."

Lena took a long drink. She hadn't seen Valeriya since she had told her aunt about joining the Order of the Phoenix three months ago, and the truth was she missed the older woman. They had exchanged a couple of letters since then, but they'd really only been brief notes to check-in with each other, and their tones had been somewhat strained. Neither were trying to convince the other of anything, but Valeriya had clearly not come around to the idea of Lena directly opposing Voldemort, while Lena was still frustrated that Valeriya was refusing to take a stand.

In all honesty, it hurt a little. Valeriya was the closest thing Lena had to a mother, and although she knew it came from a place of concern, it was still upsetting to not have Valeriya's support.

"I suppose she considers it a complicated situation," was her careful response to Sârbu's inquiry.

He appeared to sense that this was not a topic which Lena wished to discuss further, and so he changed the subject, asking casually, "So, still with the werewolf?"

Lena narrowed her eyes slightly. "Remus," she said pointedly, "and I are very happy together, yes."

Raising his eyebrows, Sârbu said, "It's a long-term thing, then? Marriage and children in the future?"

There was a familiar pang in her stomach at the mention of children, but instead of correcting him, Lena bristled at the scepticism in his voice. "Is it so difficult to see me going down that path?" she asked.

"Yes," said Sârbu bluntly, shrugging. "I've known you since you were seven, Lena. And in all that time, you've never given the slightest indication that's the sort of life you want for yourself. Honestly, I'm surprised you've managed to maintain a relationship as long as you have."

Lena didn't take any offence to his words. After all, he was only saying things she had believed herself before she had fallen for Remus.

"I never thought I would be capable of falling in love," she said simply. "I was wrong."

Sârbu looked torn between making a snide comment or saying something genuinely sweet. But before he could get around to doing either, they were disrupted by the sound of shouting coming from his basement.

"Your Silencing Charm has worn off," said Lena mildly, taking one final gulp of her tea to drain the mug.

Sârbu glanced over his shoulder at the open door behind him. Through it were the steps that led down to the basement. "I guess that means it's time to resume our interrogation. What stage should the Tardopago be at now?" He named the poison that Lena had injected into their prisoner half-an-hour ago.

As she stood, Lena picked up the small vial that contained the antidote. "He should be starting to feel an incessant throbbing in his fingers," she answered. "Hopefully, it's making him reconsider his decision to be so unhelpful."

She and Sârbu went down the staircase to where a Romanian wizard named Vasile Dobrescu was tied to a chair and desperately shouting in his native tongue. Lena's Romanian was extremely limited, but she was getting the sense he was extremely displeased with the situation in which he found himself.

His yelling ceased as Lena slowly held up the vial, his beady eyes fixing upon it.

"All you have to do to get it," she told him, "is tell us the names of the others who attended Thorfinn Rowle's meeting in the Căldură de Fier last Saturday night."

In the early hours of Sunday morning, she had received word from Sârbu that Rowle had held a meeting in the backroom of the shady Bucharest Wizarding establishment for anyone interested in helping Voldemort's cause abroad. She had left England immediately to discover the identities of as many attendees as she could. After speaking to an employee of the Căldură de Fier, they had determined that Dobrescu had gone to the meeting. They had eventually tracked him down a couple of hours ago and brought him back to Sârbu's shop to find out what they could from him. He'd been unwilling to assist them in their inquiry, so Lena had provided him with some motivation by giving him a dose of Tardopago, a slow-spreading poison that took three hours to kill its victim.

Dobrescu shook his head fearfully. "They kill me when they find out I tell you!" he cried.

"And you die if you don't tell us," Sârbu reminded him. "Bănuiesc că depinde dacă preferați să muriți azi sau să aveți o șansă și să încercați să supraviețuiți în următoarele săptămâni."

Considering Sârbu's words for a few moments, Dobrescu hesitantly said, "Mă veți proteja de ei dacă vă spun?"

"I assume he's asking for protection in exchange for giving us names," said Lena, affecting a bored tone as she inspected her nails.

"Protection, yes," said Dobrescu quickly. "I need, uh, promise of safety, if I do what you ask."

"I can arrange for a one-way trip to India or a neighbouring country," offered Lena. "Somewhere that would put you far out of the Death Eaters' reach."

Dobrescu's face fell. "You make me leave my home? My family?" he whined.

Lena came closer to him and bent down until her eyes were level with his. "I would happily take you to the nearest Dragon Reserve and feed you to them," she said coldly, "because you are a disgusting human being, and the world would be a better place with less people like you in it. So when I give you the opportunity to flee with your life intact, I suggest you take it as an act of extraordinary kindness."

His English might not have been perfect, but Lena could tell from the way Dobrescu gulped that her meaning had very much been received.

"Now," she continued, straightening and taking a step back, "are you going to give me a name?"

Dobrescu licked his lips nervously, then smiled weakly. "Kind lady," he said, "I give you twelve."

Saturday 28 October, 1995:

Harry and Ron were the last to leave the change rooms after their Quidditch practice. They were walking back to the castle in an uncomfortable silence, until Harry broke it by saying bracingly, "Well, it could have been worse."

Ron gave him an uncharacteristically withering look. "I saved two out of eighty-four. And I knocked Alicia off her broom."

"Fred managed to catch her."

"That's not really the point." Ron sighed. "I should just quit."

"No," said Harry adamantly. "You are good, Ron. Look, everyone has unfairly high expectations of you because Oliver was basically playing at a professional standard by the time he graduated. But you can't let that bother you. Booing and criticism are just part of the territory of competitive sport. I know you can play well because I've seen you do it, so don't let your doubts ruin it for you."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk, coach."

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, it's nearly lunchtime, and I'm starving."

They were approaching the castle's entrance when Harry noticed four girls who had been sitting there, upon seeing him, stand up and start making their way over to him. As they drew closer, he vaguely recognised them: they were the four girls who used to follow Lena around when she was in Seventh Year. He didn't know their names, but he knew they must have been in Third Year now.

Beside him, Ron muttered, "Do you know them?"

"Not exactly," replied Harry, but before he could add anything else, the girls had reached them, stopping him and Ron in their path.

"Hello," said the blonde girl confidently. "My name is Tiffany." She jerked a thumb at the darker-skinned girl on her right. "This is Eve, and this–" she gestured to the two brunettes on her other side, "is Erin and Bec."

"Erm, right," said Harry awkwardly. "Nice to meet you."

"We've never spoken before," continued Tiffany, "but I know you're friends with Lena."

"And?" interjected Ron brusquely, crossing him arms.

The girls seemed unbothered by his hostile attitude.

"And we would like to be in your secret Defence Against the Dark Arts class," announced the one called Bec.

Harry stared at her in surprise, while Ron immediately shushed her, looking around furtively.

"How do you guys know about it?" asked Harry slowly.

"We," said Bec, indicating to herself and Erin, "heard Michael Corner saying something to Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein in the common room about practising hexes at the next meeting."

"I knew he was a twat," muttered Ron, sounding vindicated.

"And we've seen them and other kids from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor coming up to speak with you around the castle, and it looked very suspicious," added Erin.

"From that, we deduced that you must be leading some kind of secret group where students learn the things we'd be learning in Defence class if Umbridge was actually here to teach us, and not just spy for the Ministry," finished Eve.

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"So, you think Harry's been telling the truth about You-Know-Who?" asked Ron, uncrossing his arms.

"Yes," replied all the girls together.

Harry, meanwhile, was looking closely at Tiffany and Eve. "Aren't you two in Slytherin?" he said cautiously.

Tiffany put her hands on her hips. "What's that got to do with anything?" she said, sounding irritated.

"Your house sucks," said Ron. Harry smacked his arm. "Ow."

Trying to be more diplomatic than him, Harry explained, "It's just that you two would be the only Slytherins in the group. And I'm just worried about someone else in your house finding out about the DA and running off to tell Umbridge."

"The DA?" repeated Bec.

"That's the name of our group."

"What does it stand for?" said Eve curiously.

Harry hesitated, before answering, "Dumbledore's Army."

Tiffany grinned. "Brilliant. So, are we in?"

Considering her request, Harry studied all of them. He had never once expected that someone from Slytherin would want to join the DA. But these girls had spent their First Year being mentored by Lena. And as far as he was concerned, that was as good of a recommendation anyone could get.

He held a hand out to Tiffany. "Welcome to Dumbledore's Army."

Friday 3 November, 1995:

On the morning of Sirius' 36th birthday, Lena and Remus were woken by a large black dog excitedly jumping on their bed and licking their faces.

"Get off, you mangy mutt," mumbled Lena, pushing Padfoot away, while Remus tried to pull the bedcovers over his head, muttering, "You have got to be kidding me."

A moment later, the dog was replaced by a grinning, dark-haired man. "Up, sleepyheads," said Sirius in a singsong voice. "It's my birthday, and I want pancakes for breakfast." He prodded Remus with a finger. "And you're making them."

Remus peered over the bedcovers at his friend. "You can't just barge in on us at this time of the morning," he said grumpily, glancing at clock on his bedside table. "We could have been occupied."

Sirius smirked. "On the contrary," he said, "I think it would have been an excellent start to my day to come in here and find the two of you going at it like the over-sexed animals you are."

"Pervert," Lena accused him as she sat up. Remus was glad she had worn an oversized T-shirt to bed last night, because on most mornings she wasn't wearing anything when she woke up, and Remus really didn't want to give Sirius a chance to see her naked.

"And not the slightest bit ashamed of it," Sirius replied to Lena with a wink. "Now, get up, both of you." He whacked Remus on the buttocks, inducing a noise of indignation from him. "I'm hungry." He hopped off the bed and left their bedroom whistling.

"He's like a fucking child," muttered Remus.

"Well," said Lena, glancing down at him with a dry smile, "I can't imagine that spending twelve years in Azkaban is particularly good for your development as an adult." She pushed off the bedcovers and was about to get up when she paused and looked back at the immobile Remus. "Come on," she told him, and also smacked his arse, "those pancakes aren't going to make themselves."

Remus grumbled all the way downstairs to the kitchen, but did wish Sirius a genuine 'Happy birthday' when he saw him again, and made sure all the pancakes were of an excellent quality. After they finished breakfast, the three of them – joined by a now-awake Mortimer – went back up to the drawing room to give Sirius his birthday present.

Sirius stared at the large, gift-wrapped box with great interest, and eagerly tore the paper off to see what it was. He wasn't disappointed.

"A record player?" He beamed at Lena and Remus. "Bloody hell, you have no idea how much I've missed having one of these."

Lena rolled her eyes. "Actually, we do, because you moan about it whenever you see my cassette player."

Of the four Marauders, Sirius had been the biggest fan of Muggle music. It was a love first inspired by his time spent at Remus' childhood home, and solidified by his desire to rebel against the Pureblood way of life. And once Lily had started dating James, it had been a shared interest that brought her and Sirius closer. When Remus and Lena had first moved in to Grimmauld Place, Lena's collection of Muggle music had been one of the things Sirius was most excited about.

"Well, it's nice to know you've been listening." Sirius picked up one of the three records they'd given him with the player, and let out an indistinct noise of delight. "Magical Mystery Tour?"

"I remembered it was your favourite Beatles' album," said Remus. He added under his breath, "I suppose there's no accounting for taste."

Sirius ignored the jibe and inspected the second album. "Oh, Fleetwood Mac!" He smiled fondly. "Merlin, Lily loved them. They were her favourite band."

Remus furrowed his brow. "I thought Sam Cooke was her favourite."

"'A Change is Gonna Come' was her favourite song," Sirius corrected him. "But Fleetwood Mac was her favourite group." He held up the Rumours album to show Remus. "She used to play this at least once a week. It drove James nuts, but he never complained." He stared at the album cover reminiscently for a few seconds, then put it down and picked up the last one, which was by Elton John. "Now, I'm familiar with this gentleman, but not the album."

"Remus said you used to have the single version of 'Saturday Night's Alright', but that you wore it out playing it so much," explained Lena. "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road is the album it's from."

"Great," said Sirius enthusiastically.

"And if you behave," added Lena, "I'll get you some more albums for Christmas."

Sirius put a hand over his heart. "I promise to be a good boy." He looked between Remus and Lena. "You two aren't going anywhere today, right?"

"Not unless an Order emergency comes up," replied Remus.

"And I was only going out this afternoon to get groceries for dinner," said Lena. "Speaking of which – what did you want, birthday boy?"

Sirius thought about this for a moment. "Well," he said finally, "I suppose since I've already made Remus cook once today, I'd be happy with take-out." He considered his answer for a couple of more seconds, then said, "Fish and chips, please."

"Done," said Lena, smiling. "Now, what are we doing the rest of this morning?"

Sirius pointed to his three new albums, smiling radiantly. "This."

For the next couple of hours, Sirius, Remus and Lena lay sprawled out across the drawing room floor, munching their way through a couple of packets of crisps that Lena had bought earlier that week and a large plate of biscuits while listening to the music of Muggles. Kreacher had been ordered to stay in the kitchen, so as not to ruin Sirius' mood.

When they reached the titular song of Elton John's album, Sirius commented, "Can't say I've ever seen a yellow brick road before."

"It's a reference," said Remus, licking crumbs from his fingers. "To a Muggle children's book called The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. My mother read it to me when I was a kid. There's a movie too, but I never saw it."

Lena, who was repeatedly throwing a Knut up in the air for Mortimer to catch, added, "I've never read it, but Maggie used to refer it. She would sometimes compare people we knew to characters in it."

Sirius rolled onto his stomach to properly look at Remus, who had slumped himself against the bottom of the armchair. "So, what's the story about?" he asked.

"Well," began Remus, "there's this girl, Dorothy, who lives in Kansas with her aunt and uncle. She has a dog called Toto–"

"Excellent," interjected Sirius, nodding approvingly. "Stories are always better when there's a dog."

Remus rolled his eyes and continued, "Anyway, there's a tornado – or something like that, I can't quite remember what it is – and it picks up the house she lives in, and–"

"What," interrupted Sirius again, "the whole house? How?"

"Because it's a very strong tornado," responded Remus impatiently. "So, it picks up the house, Dorothy and Toto, and the three of them are–"

"What about the uncle and aunt?" questioned Sirius.

"They're not with them," answered Remus, exasperated.

"Why not?"

"I don't fucking know!" said Remus loudly. "Do you want me to tell you the damned story or not?"

Lena had paused her game with Mortimer and was covering her mouth as she sniggered at Remus, who sent a glare at her.

Sirius looked at Remus with mock-affront. "You keep leaving vital information out."

"It's not vital information!" Remus told him, almost shouting. "If it was important, I would tell you!"

"What do you mean, it's not important? If this girl's living with her aunt and uncle, she's probably already an orphan. Isn't the fact that she's not with them during a tornado going to be quite concerning to an already traumatised child?"

Remus threw up his hands. "Fine," he said aggressively, "the aunt and uncle went to the market and didn't get back home in time for the surprise tornado. Happy?"

By this point, Lena's whole body was convulsing with silent laughter.

"I suppose it'll do," said Sirius after a moment's consideration. "Please continue."

After taking a deep breath, Remus went on, "The tornado picks up the house, with Dorothy and Toto in it, and when it's over, deposits her in a magical land called Oz."

Sirius cocked his head. "You mean... Australia?"

"No!" snapped Remus. "Why the fuck would I be talking about Australia?"

"Because I've heard people refer to it as 'Oz'," replied Sirius defensively. "Besides, have you seen their ordinary animals? Most of them are weirder than the magical ones."

Remus buried his face in his hands. He could hear Lena laughing. Evidently, she'd given up trying to contain her mirth.

Merlin, he'd forgotten how annoying Sirius could be. He knew exactly how to drive Remus up the wall.

Taking a few more slow, deep breaths, Remus looked up at Sirius again. The git was wearing a completely innocent expression.

"Oz," said Remus slowly, "is not Australia. It is a magical land that is not of this world. And when Dorothy's house arrives there, it lands on a woman called the Wicked Witch of the East, and kills her."

Sirius frowned. "The Wicked Witch?" he repeated. "Bit offensive."

"She's not wicked because she's a witch," said Remus through gritted teeth. "She's wicked because she's oppressing a race of people called Munchkins. And by accidentally killing her, Dorothy has freed them from her tyranny."

"A rare of case of manslaughter turning out well," commented Sirius.

Remus glared at him. "If you want to hear the rest of the story," he hissed, "stop interrupting and shut up."

His face earnest, Sirius mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key, then gestured for Remus to continue.

"Right," said Remus, mollified slightly, "the Good Witch of the North arrives and gives Dorothy the Witch of the East's magical silver shoes."

"Maggie told me in the movie they're ruby-red slippers," Lena chimed in.

Remus shot her a look that said, 'Don't you start...'

"Sorry," mouthed Lena with a smile that was equally apologetic and amused.

"So," continued Remus, "Dorothy asks the Good Witch how she and Toto are supposed to get back to Kansas, and the Good Witch tells her that she has to follow the yellow brick road to the Emerald City, where she can ask the Wizard of Oz to help her."

Sirius raised a hand.

"No, witches and wizards aren't the same thing in this story."

Sirius lowered his hand.

"Dorothy embarks on her journey to the Emerald City, and on the way meets a Scarecrow in need of a brain, a Tin Woodman who's looking for a heart, and a Cowardly Lion who wants to be courageous. When they reach the Wizard, he says he'll help them if they kill the Wicked Witch of the West. Dorothy does so by throwing water on the Witch, causing her to melt – don't ask me why, it just does. Dorothy and the others go back to the Wizard, but they discover that he's a fraud, an ordinary man from Dorothy's world who arrived there accidentally like her, and has been using technology to convince the people of Oz he has magic. He decides to take Dorothy and Toto back home using the hot air balloon he came in, but the ropes holding it down break while he's the only one in it, and he floats away, leaving Dorothy and Toto behind. Someone suggests to Dorothy that she go see this other witch called Glinda, who tells Dorothy that all she needs to do to go home is click the heels of her silver shoes together three times. She does, and she and Toto arrive back home in Kansas." Remus released a long breath, and said to Sirius, "Now, any questions?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. What does that have to do with the rest of his–" he pointed at the record player, "–song?"

Remus groaned. "Merlin's balls, Sirius, it's a metaphor. The song is about a guy who left behind his home and a normal life in pursuit of something more exciting, more glamorous, more magical, only to find out it wasn't the life he hoped for. The people are cruel, the magic is an illusion, and he feels trapped. He realises his dream is just that – a dream. So, he decides to wake up from it and return home."

"Ah, now that makes more sense," said Sirius wisely. He appeared to mull over the whole idea for a little longer. At last, he asked, "You don't suppose it's possible that a tornado might come along, pick up this fucking house, and drop it on Voldemort, do you?"

"I've got to say," replied Remus drily, "the chances seem low."

Sirius sighed. "Pity. It's probably the only shot I'd get at killing the bastard."

Wednesday 29 November, 1995:

"Confringo!"

Just in the nick of time, Lena put up a Shield Charm to block her would-be attacker's Blasting Curse, the collision between the two making a boom that shook the room. As the man who was currently trying to kill her struggled to maintain his balance, Lena took the opportunity to take down her shield and quickly fire an Incarcerous Spell at him. Thick ropes shot out of her wand and coiled themselves around the man before he had a chance to retaliate. He fell over, bound and gagged.

The man in question was a member of an anti-Muggle fringe group based in Slovenia, and his name was Tadej Hrovat. He was wanted by the International Confederation of Wizards for breaking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy when he and three co-conspirators had staged a terror attack on Muggles in Ljubljana nine months ago. They had been unsuccessful in actually killing anyone, but it had taken a hell of a lot of work to cover up the magical nature of the attack, so naturally Hrovat was pretty high on the Confederation's Wanted list, as he was the only one of the four they hadn't caught yet.

But Lena had been able to do what they could not, thanks to some information that Dobrescu had so kindly passed on to her and Sârbu during their interrogation of him. It had taken six weeks, but she had finally found him in a hideout in the outskirts of the city of Koper.

Well, he hadn't actually been inside the flat when she had arrived, so she'd let herself in, with some assistance from Mortimer. When Hrovat had returned, he hadn't allowed her to even introduce herself before he'd sent a Killing Curse in her direction, which Lena had only just managed to dodge. Apparently, he was a 'kill first, don't bother with questions' kind of guy.

But now, as he squirmed on the floor with a piece of rope gagging his mouth, he seemed quite eager to talk – or rather, hurl muffled verbal abuse in Slovene at Lena.

Lena folded her arms. "Exactly what do you think you have to gain by insulting me?" she asked.

Hrovat paused in his shouting, surprise flickering across his face. He said something that sounded like "English?"

Lena smiled pleasantly. "Correct." She flicked the fingers of her left hand and Hrovat's wand, which he had dropped when the ropes had tied his arms to his sides, flew up to her. She put it in her coat pocket, which was also occupied by Mortimer, who had hidden in there during the brief duel. Now, he was surreptitiously peering over the top.

Meanwhile, Hrovat's expression had become more wary than angry. He tried saying something else, but the gag made it inaudible. Lena relented, and with a wave of her wand, removed the rope from his mouth.

"Niste s konfederacijo," he said slowly.

Lena didn't speak Slovene, but she had a fair idea of what he meant. "No, I'm not with the Confederation," she said. She flicked her wand again, Summoning a wooden chair from the corner of the dingy room. As she sat on it, Hrovat attempted to sit up.

"Lovec na glave?" he asked.

Lena sighed. "Do you speak English?"

In response, Hrovat stared at her blankly. Lena took it to mean 'no'.

"Then why did you go to Thorfinn's Rowle's meeting?" she questioned, furrowing her brow. "Because I know for a fact that he can't speak anything other than English." Which really begs the question as to why Voldemort thought it would be a good idea to send him to speak to a bunch of foreign wizards, Lena added silently.

Hrovat appeared to have only comprehended one word. "Rowle? Veste Rowle?"

Lena ran a hand through her hair. She hadn't prepared for an interrogation where neither party had a clue what the other was trying to say.

"Ah, fuck it," she muttered, standing up. "I'll just hand you over to the Confederation." She pointed her wand at Hrovat, whose eyes widened as he started to protest. "Oh, relax," she told him, "I'm not going to kill you. Stupefy."

The jet of red light hit him square in the face, and his slack body slumped on the ground. But Lena didn't lower her wand. Instead, she continued to stare at the unconscious man.

"I could do it," she murmured. "It would be so easy. One spell to end your life, another to Transfigure your remains so that no one would ever know... and I'd be making the world a better place. A safer, kinder place."

A world free from blood purists and Muggle-haters – surely that was the Order of the Phoenix's endgame? That was why they were fighting.

'So why not try to reach that end sooner? Bigotry is a disease, and the best way to cure it is to eradicate the carriers – people like Hrovat. Remove them as soon as they begin to display the symptoms, so it can't be passed on...'

A squeaking noise pulled Lena from her thoughts. She glanced down at Mortimer, who was crawling up her coat and looking at her with a concerned expression. He halted his ascent when he reached her heart, and poked the spot where the black mark resided, letting out another worried noise.

"I'm fine, Mortimer," said Lena, her tone a little more defensive than she'd intended.

Mortimer shook his head vigorously, and chattered crossly.

Lena opened her mouth to tell him his anxiety was unnecessary, but paused. Mortimer didn't usually react this way when her thoughts turned... well, a little murdery.

"Did... did you sense... something?" she asked him quietly.

He nodded, gazing at her earnestly.

Lena chewed her bottom lip. She hadn't felt anything just before – or heard the pounding of a heartbeat in her head – but clearly something had unsettled Mortimer, and he seemed to think it was because of the Nekrosía. But it had been dormant ever since she'd started taking Moramortis.

'Healer Ghali said it would remain inactive unless I choose to call upon it,' she reminded herself. Was that what had happened? Had the dark thoughts in her mind somehow unknowingly started to convince her body that she needed to use the Nekrosía?

She didn't know for certain. But what she did know was that executing people like Hrovat wasn't going to help keep her sickness under control.

Gently, she picked up Mortimer from where he was clinging to her coat and gave him a small smile. "It's okay," she told him softly. "I'm going to be okay. You know why? Because I've got you to look after me."

Mortimer hugged her thumb in response. When he finally released it, Lena cleared her throat.

"Right, that's enough sentimentality for today. Now, I've got to send a message to the International Confederation of Wizards to tell them I've done their job for them – and probably not for the last time."

Saturday 2 December, 1995:

There were nearly three dozen different species of magical plants in Maggie's little greenhouse, and Remus was finding their combined aromas almost overpowering. Not because the smell was bad – just pungent in a way that was making his brain feel slightly fuzzy.

"That'll be the sneezewort, the trosgynnol poppies, the purple Amanita – well, basically most of the plants with mind-altering properties," Maggie explained to Remus when he asked. "I have a fair few of them here."

Before Maggie had come, the greenhouse had been just a simple, abandoned garden shed about a quarter of a mile away from her cottage. With some magical renovations, she had turned it into a greenhouse that might have only been a third of the size of one of the Hogwarts greenhouses, but had a far wider variety of species – partly courtesy of Lena.

Remus inspected a small pot of purple Amanita to which Maggie had gestured. "And exactly how many of these are you actually legally allowed to have?" he inquired wryly.

"Let's just say I could make a small fortune as an illicit drug-dealer," replied Maggie with a shrug. "Now, you have a list?"

Remus passed her a scrap of parchment on which the Order's required supplies were jotted down, and Maggie got to work retrieving the desired clippings.

Maggie knew that he and Lena were working with Dumbledore to fight against Voldemort, but she hadn't been told about the Order of the Phoenix – although Remus suspected she'd figured out more than she was letting on. She was very perceptive. Hanging around Lena for long periods of time did that to a person.

"So, when is Lena supposed to be back?" asked Maggie as she trimmed something that looked half-cactus, half-fern. Remus had been good at Herbology at school, but there were a lot of foreign species that Maggie owned he didn't recognise. "Not that it isn't nice to see you," she added. "I was just–"

"Expecting it to be her coming today," Remus finished for her. "I know. Well, she didn't give me a specific date in her message last night, but she promised it would be before Thursday."

"Her birthday?"

"And the next full moon."

Maggie nodded, putting some off-cuts in a bag. "Right, I remember. We were making plans to go out and celebrate on Friday night, but we decided to wait until Rolf's back, and all go together."

"When is he coming?"

"He arrives on the 22nd, and heads back on New Year's Day."

Remus smiled. "Merlin, I haven't seen him since I left Hogwarts," he commented, taking a seat on a stool.

"It's weird," admitted Maggie, momentarily pausing her horticultural activities. "I spent nearly every day with him for four years, and now I haven't seen him in nearly eighteen months. We write to each other, of course, but it's not really the same thing." She hesitated, before continuing, "But to be completely honest with you, it doesn't actually bother me that much. I mean, I miss him – he's like my brother. But..." she trailed off, biting her lip.

"But there's so much going on in your life that the gap is mostly filled?" suggested Remus after a moment.

"Yeah," said Maggie, looking relieved. "That's it. Between work, Oliver and whatever crazy shit Lena gets me into, I just don't have time to think about it. Occasionally I wonder what he's getting up to on the other side of the world, and hope he's taking care of himself, but other than that..."

As happy as Remus was for Maggie, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. For twelve years, he'd had little else to do than think about his dead friends and be angry at the one who he'd thought was responsible. He'd had his father for the first few years, but as much as he had loved the man, their relationship had always been slightly strained since the revelation that it was his father's provocation of Fenrir Greyback that had induced the monster to attack him.

"Remus?"

He blinked, his gaze refocusing on Maggie, who was watching him curiously.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You seemed to kind of drift off there for a second."

"Sorry," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Just a bit tired. Had a lot of late nights this week."

Maggie turned back to one of the plants. "Because of your work with Dumbledore," she said quietly.

"Yes."

There was a short silence before Maggie asked, "Remus, just how dangerous is the stuff that you and Lena are doing? I know you can't tell me exactly what it is, but how high are the chances of you guys getting killed?"

"It varies," was Remus' careful response.

Maggie turned around to face him, her eyes narrowed. "Don't do that," she snapped. "Don't act all mysterious and shit, because if you think that fills me with some kind of confidence that you're like a fucking secret agent or whatever, then you're wrong. I'm asking you to tell me how certain I should be that Lena is going to be there with Rolf and me when we go out in a couple of weeks. Ninety-nine percent certain? Eighty-five? Fifty, or less?"

"Lena is more likely to hurt herself experimenting with some ancient artefact than she is doing what she is now," said Remus evenly. "If she's not there celebrating with you and Rolf, it won't be because of the work Dumbledore assigns her."

"And what about you?"

Remus cocked his head. "Me?"

Maggie crossed her arms. "Should I trust that you're not going to die doing this work either?"

Remus sighed. "It's dangerous, yes," he said eventually. "But I think my chances of survival are decent. After all, I did fight in and live through one war already."

She stared at him a moment longer, before making a 'Hmmph' noise and unfolding her arms. "Good," she said, turning back around. "Because I really don't want to deal with a Lena who's lost you."

Remus chuckled, even though his stomach twisted as he thought of Valeriya's warning of what Lena would do if he died. "Yes, it would be very inconsiderate of me to die, wouldn't it?" he said drily.

Maggie looked over her shoulder at him, grinning. "Oh, shut up," she told him. "You know I like you too."

Friday 15 December, 1995:

Watching the members of the DA during their final meeting of the school-term, Harry felt himself positively swelling with pride. Their improvement over the last two months really was astonishing. True, Neville did Stun Padma Patil rather than Dean, at whom he had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual.

He was particularly impressed by the four newest recruits. Apart from Dennis Creevey, the girls were the youngest in the group, but they had no difficulty in keeping up with Harry's classmates. Eve Nyambura was especially talented, holding her own against Hermione. It was clear to see that they had taken to heart whatever lessons Lena had taught them in First Year.

There had been some initial suspicion and discord about two students from Slytherin joining the DA from quite a few members of the group, but Tiffany had swiftly disabused them of the notion that she and Eve were spies by using some colourful language to describe Umbridge and their more unpleasant housemates. Now, all four girls were as much a part of the DA as any of the others.

It was just as well that things were going so well with the Defence classes, as it did something to fill the gap in Harry's life since Umbridge had banned him from Quidditch. He had been surprised to hear that Ginny had taken his place on the team, as he'd never once seen her on a broom during his time at the Burrow.

At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt.

"You're getting really good," he said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff – maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a 'Happy Christmas' as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collected up the cushions with Ron and Hermione and stacked them neatly away. Ron and Hermione left before he did; he hung back a little because Cho was still there and he was hoping to receive a 'Happy Christmas' from the girl he'd had a crush on for a year-and-a-half.

"No, you go on," he heard her say to her friend Marietta and his heart gave a jolt that seemed to take it into the region of his Adam's apple. He pretended to be straightening the cushion pile. He was quite sure they were alone now and waited for her to speak. Instead, he heard a hearty sniff.

He turned and saw Cho standing in the middle of the room, tears pouring down her face.

Initially stunned by this, Harry realised it had to be about Cedric. And although that was really the last thing he wanted to talk about right now, evidently that was what Cho needed. So he picked up two cushions from the pile he'd just stacked and dropped them on the floor.

"You want to talk about it?" he offered to Cho, sitting down on one cushion and gesturing for her to take the other.

Cho, looking slightly surprised, wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Erm, yes, thank you," she said thickly, and joined him on the floor. "I suppose... it's just... learning all this stuff... it just makes me... wonder whether... if he'd known it all... he'd still be alive."

"He did know this stuff," said Harry heavily. "He was really good at it – that's why he made it to the middle of the maze." He sighed. "But Voldemort has killed many, many good wizards."

She hiccoughed at the sound of Voldemort's name, but stared at Harry without flinching. "You survived when you were just a baby," she said quietly.

Harry hesitated, before telling her, "That was because my mother sacrificed herself for me. It left a powerful protective enchantment over me. The Killing Curse didn't work on me not because I was special, but because my mother saved me."

Cho blinked a few times, once again looking shocked. Harry couldn't help think that even with her eyes so red and puffy, she was still very pretty.

"I... I didn't know that was even possible," she said, mopping her eyes again. She gave him a watery smile. "So, there's another thing I've learned from you. You're a really good teacher, you know. I've never been able to Stun anything before."

"Thanks," said Harry awkwardly. He stood up, offering her a hand. "We should probably get going, we don't want to be caught walking around after curfew..."

"Yes," said Cho, and took Harry's hand.

He pulled her up, but instead of leaving, they looked at each other for a long moment. Harry felt a burning desire to run from the room and, at the same time, a complete inability to move his feet.

"Mistletoe," said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling over their heads.

"Yeah," said Harry. His mouth was very dry. "It's probably full of Nargles, though."

"What are Nargles?"

"No idea," said Harry. Cho had let go of his hand, but she had also moved even closer to him. "You'd have to ask Luna..."

Cho made a funny noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. She was so close to Harry that he could have counted the freckles on her nose.

"I really like you, Harry."

His brain felt fuzzy. The only thought he could really process was that he could see every tear clinging to her eyelashes...

And she kissed him.

Harry didn't know what he'd expected – fireworks, the sound of an orchestra playing in his head, some sense of it being completely right. But instead of any of that, Lena's voice filled his head.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love."

Immediately, a feeling of wrongness spread through Harry, and he jerked his head back, breaking the kiss. He quickly stepped back from the confused Cho, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, "I just – I can't – it's not that... I'm, I'm just sorry, I can't, can't do this."

Cho was staring at him, clearly dumbfounded. "But I thought–"

"So did I," said Harry, running a hand through his hair. "But I... I don't feel that way about you, Cho."

A horrible silence filled the room for a couple of seconds. Then it was broken by a fresh wave of sobs from Cho as she ran out.

"Shit," muttered Harry as the door slammed shut behind her. He rubbed his forehead. He really wasn't sure what had happened. Right up until that moment their lips had met, he had fancied Cho. A lot. She was incredibly pretty, and clever and nice. But when they had kissed...

As Lena's voice had echoed around his head, an overwhelming feeling of emptiness had engulfed Harry. All the nervousness and pleasant feelings he usually experienced around Cho vanished, leaving him with the feeling that he'd rather be doing anything but kissing her, and he didn't understand why.

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, trying to remove the remnants of the kiss. Questions were flooding his brain. Was it just Cho, or would he have reacted like that to a kiss from anyone? Didn't normal teenage boys want to kiss, to explore all the physical stuff? What was wrong with him?

As he made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower, no answers formed in Harry's mind, and he was just as perplexed and anxious as he'd been in the Room of Requirement as he mumbled indistinct responses to Ron and Hermione's queries about what had happened between Cho and himself. Brushing his friends off, Harry went up to his dorm, barely acknowledging Neville and Dean's greetings, and flopped onto his bed. He pulled the hangings shut and closed his eyes. For the first time since summer, his head really hurt.

And also for the first time since summer, Harry forgot to put the Occlumency seal over his connection with Voldemort before he fell asleep.

Ooh, canon deviation! Like it? Hate it? Theories? Questions? You know I love to hear them :)